Oneshot - Blog Posts

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞. — monkey d. luffy x afab!reader. (+18)

warnings: slightly jealous luffy, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (cunnulingus), some slaps, drunk sex, breeding kink.

summary: luffy isn't jealous — except when it comes to you. after dancing with someone else, he decides to remind you exactly who you belong to.

a/n: this is my first work here, i hope you like it and sorry for any mistake. if i forgot something in the "warnings" that you think is necessary, please let me know.

luffy wasn't the possessive type — in fact, he was the opposite in almost every way — except when it came to you.

it was a two-way street, so to speak: he loved telling everyone you were part of his crew, proudly showing you off as his loyal companion and girlfriend. that was all well and good — until someone acted in a way he found even remotely suspicious.

a long look from some guy while you walked down the street? a whistle? a casual touch from some poor soul at a bar who thought he had a shot? that was more than enough for him.

on some occasions, just luffy's piercing gaze was enough to put them in their place — but many times, not even that worked — he’d gladly jump into a fight the kind your crew would have to break up.

sometimes you loved the thrill of the danger; other times, not so much. it all depended on how sore you’d wake up the next morning.

on this day, the crew was celebrating happily on your ship after a victory. it was a beautiful afternoon, with the sun painting streaks across the sky in shades of pink and orange. the drinks were sweet, and the food was plentiful. everyone was dancing, all smiles and joy — or at least, that’s what was expected.

you were drunk, but not overly so — just enough to enjoy yourself — and dancing with sanji. despite his usual behavior with other women, he was always respectful towards you. his hands stayed in safe zones, and he twirled you just enough to keep up with the rhythm of the dance. you were having a great time, despite feeling certain eagle eyes boring into you from across the boat and over the firepit.

when the music ended, you sat down next to nami, who gave you a cheeky, drunken smile.

"you’re impossible, aren’t you?" she said to you.

"what did i do this time?" you said, though it came out more like a sigh.

"ask your boyfriend, who looks like he’s about to go for sanji’s throat any second. and look, you know i'm not one to defend him."

you let out a weak laugh in response. you knew luffy trusted both you and sanji. your jealousy had a habit of showing itself whenever men of questionable character came around. so then, what was this flicker of jealousy?

for a moment, you hoped it was just the drink making you see and hear things — his look, your friend’s comment, all of it.

as night fell, so did your companions. despite your exhaustion, you didn’t feel like sleeping just yet. you wandered across the deck, searching for your boyfriend, but he was nowhere in sight. was he in the cabin? you made your way toward it — only to feel a pair of hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back firmly and pressing you against the door.

"looking for me, pretty thing?" there was a new heaviness in luffy’s voice, deeper and rougher, as a grin spread across his face. his breath was warm on your neck, and you could almost hear the unspoken promise hanging in the air.

"yeah," you blushed slightly.

really? It must be the alcohol, you thought. years of being together, and a simple question could still throw you off balance.

he was under your skin — like fire, like gravity. just a look and your whole nervous system short-circuited.

"hrmm," he murmured, his hands leaving the doorframe where they'd been, trailing down to the hem of your skirt. they slid slowly down your thigh, the slightest touch enough to make you nervous and intoxicated. his mouth grazed your neck, slow and maddening, and you instinctively arched back — just enough to tempt him further. it was slow, sweet, until he turned you around, giving your ass a soft, unexpected slap.

"luffy?!" you murmured, a little stunned, suddenly realizing where you were — in the hallway, with the very real possibility of someone walking by and hearing everything.

"what's the problem? do you want me to stop? you can tell me to," he growled. fuck, it drove you wild when he said it like that.

"it’s not that," you said. "it’s just that we’re in the hallway." your hand moved to the doorknob, turning it slowly. not daring to look back, you stepped forward, feeling him follow. suddenly, the door slammed shut, and the click of the lock rang out through the room.

you felt his hand on your waist again, pulling you close and turning you around. your arms brushed against luffy’s chest, and you felt one of his hands slowly glide down your body, coming to rest at the side of your neck.

in the blink of an eye, your mouths met. he kissed you fiercely, pulling away just enough for you to catch your breath. his hand rested on your strong waist, holding you in place if you tried to move.

all you could do in response was kiss him back, moaning softly against his mouth. every time you opened up, it was a chance for him to slip his tongue in, claiming you thoroughly.

you knew part of it was his jealousy — but you also knew luffy wasn’t the calm-in-bed type. when it came to you, he was... visceral. it made you nervous, but also hungry for more.

he stopped kissing you and, with the hand that had been on your neck, caressed your face. "you’re absurdly beautiful. it’s a shame you like to test my patience."

your eyes opened, locking with his. “i have no idea what you’re talking about, lu,” you said — god knows how much effort it took to string that simple sentence together.

"you don't know, huh? i'll show you then." he grabbed one of your thighs, lifting you up. in response, you lifted both your legs and intertwined them around luffy's hips. your intimacy rubbed against his hardness, and fuck, you felt a heat fill you just as you wanted him to do.

in the blink of an eye, you were on the bed, your blouse now a crumpled heap after luffy had ripped it open, buttons flying. his touch was rough, sending shockwaves straight to your core. you could come just from the way he was looking at you.

your blouse slipped off your shoulders, leaving your bra exposed. he pulled it down next, baring your breasts. with greedy hands, luffy grabbed them — they were completely vulnerable to his touch.

you looked at luffy and saw just how hungry he was. insatiable.

he grabbed one of your breasts while his mouth found the other. his tongue danced over the sensitive skin, teasing gently before nibbling and leaving hickeys you knew your companions would comment on later.

he then got off of you, looked at the mess you were in, and smiled ardently at the work he had done so far. at this point, even the slightest brush of his skin against yours made you moan — part pleasure, part embarrassment. but he didn’t mind; he loved seeing you this desperate for him.

his fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. fuck, you were so wet your panties clung to you — warm, soaked, and shamelessly needy.

"lu, stop teasing me," you huffed, and your gaze locked with his. luffy’s eyes were dark — very dark and filled with sin. oh god. he was going to ruin you.

"tease you how? you mean like dancing with sanji all night — that kind of teasing?" he said, his voice thick with lust and desire.

he then pulled your panties aside, making you gasp at the touch. his fingers slid through your folds — slicker than he expected — before finding your clit, already aching from the sudden stimulation and the filthy kisses he'd given you.

"so ready for me. would he make you feel like this? would he make you this wet?" he growled.

you moved your hips, desperate for more friction, already starting to feel sore from the quick, shallow contact. you wanted him to fuck you now. but from the edge in his voice and the anger simmering just beneath the surface, you knew it wouldn’t be that simple. maybe if you pushed the right buttons, he’d give in... but it was a risk. and you were a mess, needing him to fuck you hard.

he suddenly pulled his fingers away from you, and before you could even protest, a soft slap echoed through the room. luffy had slapped your pussy — gentle, but enough to make your back arch and a moan escape your lips.

"i asked you a question. why aren’t you answering me?" he said.

"no, he can't. no one can," you said — and apparently, that pleased him, because this time he moved closer, slipping a finger inside you. the sudden intrusion was lewd, and it pulled a moan from you, his name falling from your lips.

"please, luffy... hah, please..."

"please, what? use your words, kitten. i know you can," he said, his fingers moving faster against your core.

"please, i just want to come," you breathed. the alcohol and desire had thrown all your pride out the window.

he shifted his body beneath yours, making you acutely aware of how big he was. you watched his muscles tense and jump as he fingered you — the effort minimal for him.

that man — despite all his jokes and idiotic behavior — had an unreal ability to make you wet like venice in no time.

then he kissed you — slow, needy, nibbling at your mouth. he only stopped to strip off the rest of your clothes, ripping away your skirt and lingerie until you were completely bare. with his body hovering over yours, luffy traced a path of kisses down your chest, across your breasts, and straight to your pussy — dripping wet, and all because and for him.

he didn’t waste a second — pulled you to the edge of the bed and smiled as he sank into you. his tongue slid along the wet trail he’d left between your legs, making your back arch as his name spilled from your lips. your fingers tangled in his black hair, you held on while he gripped your hips and fucked you with his mouth, relentless.

his tongue danced through every fold until it finally found your clit. you gasped, your body tightening as he claimed that sweet spot. and then, just as you were about to explode, he slid two fingers inside, fucking you into your first orgasm.

it didn’t take long. the wine had already gone to your head back when you were still on the deck with your friends but the pleasure luffy gave you? it was stronger than any drug or drink — a hit straight to your nervous system.

you started grinding against his face, surprised that even though he was pissed, he was giving you so much freedom to just feel. no teasing. no games. just pleasure.

your orgasm hit you hard, making you tremble. your legs jerked in brief spasms as luffy removed his fingers, licking every inch of you, making you even more sensitive. "fuck, you're so delicious."

as your breath steadied, you looked up — and there he was, undressing before you. each muscle, each scar, every inch of him was a masterpiece of desire. in that moment, he was yours entirely, a vision of raw, unfiltered perfection.

luffy moved on top of you, cradling your face as he kissed you eagerly, letting you taste a hint of you. nestled between your legs, the slick head of his arousal brushed against your still-sensitive core, amplifying the aftershocks of your recent climax

he rubbed his cock against your cunt a few times, making you moan. you moved your hips in search of more friction, but luffy held you back.

"for someone who just came, you're eager, don't you think? we've barely started," he said.

"luffy, please... just fuck me" you begged.

he entered you without warning, eliciting a thirsty moan from both of you. you were so wet and needy that it wasn’t a painful intrusion, but rather a pleasurable one. even so, he waited for you to adjust to his long, thick member before finally starting to move.

"you feel so good," you heard him say, his voice dropping an octave as he slid inside you.

he finally started pounding into you, his hips slamming against yours. the feeling of him filling you sent a jolt straight to your core, making you writhe in pure pleasure. he fucked you hard, one hand gripping your thigh while the other pressed into your hip.

your hands moved to luffy's back, smoothing over the tangle of muscles. you felt yourself clench around him as he removed your hands and pinned them above your head.

"humm, pretty... don't squeeze me like that, you're gonna make me cum," he said.

"come right on me," you moaned. you knew you had won, that you'd taken away his anger and jealousy, but luffy hated giving up. he pulled out of you, and before you could complain, he flipped you over, leaving you on all fours. luffy entered you again, giving your ass a slap that left you dizzy with pleasure.

in this position, one of luffy's hands moved to your hip, his fingers reaching your pussy. he touched you, massaging your clitoris again, sending a rush of electricity to your brain that made your arms give out, causing your face to fall onto the bed.

you heard his low laughter behind you — smug, knowing. forget it, he’d won this one, and he damn well knew it.

the touch on your sensitive core combined with the strong, rhythmic thrusts made you cum for the second time. luffy knew that in this position his cock reached your deepest, most sensitive spot — that in this position, you felt him even bigger and it was easier for you to come. he knew you so well, he could make you fall apart with just a few well-placed moves.

he pulled out of you, leaving you completely empty. you could hear the rustling of the sheets and the creak of the bed as luffy settled on his side. his cock glistened with your creamy arousal, still hard. his eyes hungry as they locked onto you.

you adjusted yourself, sitting up, your brain still processing the orgasm you'd just had. the inside of your thighs trembled, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you slowly returned to the real world.

he looked at you, taking in the mess you were, leaving you intoxicated. luffy then moved his hand to his cock, giving it a few strokes, his head tilting back. he had a lot of self-control when it came to cumming, especially if he wanted to fuck you senseless.

he was nothing short of a fucking sex god, sent to drive you crazy.

"sit on me," you heard him say. without hesitation, you crawled on all fours toward him, sliding one hand over his shoulder and bringing your thighs to rest on either side of him.

you slid down and started moving. luffy then placed his hands on your waist, but made no attempt to move you. he let you ride him, desperate for your orgasm, while he smiled in satisfaction at the sight of your breasts swaying above him. you knew how much he loved watching you grind on his cock, and you spared no effort in making him cum.

after a few moments, you could tell how close he was when his moans grew hard and his cock started to throb. "i'm so fucking close... i want to cum inside you, fill you up completely. tomorrow, everyone will know you're mine," he finally murmured.

You could only smile at the statement, which was also a request. of course, he wouldn’t do it if you didn’t allow it, but as your pussy clenched around him after his words, he knew he could.

"yes, please," you gasped, grinding your hips. the feeling of your hips and clit rubbing against his pelvis sent shivers down your spine.

finally, you felt him grip your waist, spilling himself into you. his cock throbbed, filling you completely. luffy moaned fervently beneath you, his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in ecstatic frenzy. he was beautiful — completely beautiful.

you kept rocking your hips even after he came, chasing your final orgasm of the night.

luffy caught his breath and started moving his hips against yours, making you feel every inch of him still deep inside you. the sensation of him, still so big and hard inside you, sent another wave of pleasure through your body. that, combined with the friction on your sensitive clit, made you come hard — this time squirting around his cock.

you heard his sweet, satisfied laugh as one of your hands reached back for support. you collapsed onto his chest, moaning softly and seeing stars.

"are you okay, my love?" he finally said. you raised your eyes and saw luffy's, now without any more lust, just the kindness he always carried.

"yeah, i'm fine." you said, finally pulling away from him.

luffy watched as you lay down beside him, turning onto your side.

he grabbed a towel and gently cleaned you up, tossing it somewhere across the room without a care.

you smiled as he lay down with you, his fingers gliding over your skin with slow devotion. his eyes grew a little distant, so you gently pulled his hand to your chest and he looked at you.

"something wrong?" you said, breaking the silence.

"i'm afraid of losing you," he replied, his voice now softer.

"to who? our cook? i think he loves you more than i do," you joked, but he still seemed distant.

"lu," you said, your voice now more serious. "you’ll never lose me to anyone, ever. your friends might love me, sure, but not like that. and honestly, no man in this world could ever make me feel the way you do. not in a million years."

the sudden declaration made him smile.

he pulled you close, and you snuggled into his chest. both of you were sleepy, warm in each other's arms. you could’ve easily fallen asleep like that — but you were sweaty and in need of a shower.

"come on, let's take a shower," you said softly, watching as his smile melted into another pout.

"ugh, nooooo!" he whined, his voice muffled against your skin.

"if you don't go, i won't come near you again until you take a shower," you said

he immediately pulled away from your arms and marched toward the bathroom.

you smiled and followed him. in the end, this was just right.

©️ GRUDGENS 2025 — all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

i feel like my writing has been on a steady decline lately, so pls enjoy this offering from a writing class that i took last spring (when i felt my writing was getting a lot better). it was one of the first, serious original writing pieces i worked on and i definitely leaned on bakugou katsuki's personality to help inform how i wrote Tony lol, but i was pleasantly surprised with the outcome!

i'd love to hear your thoughts (and if anyone's interested in beta-ing my i7 work, pls message me!)

it never got a title but i suppose ill call it...

In Ten Year's Time (1,737 words, original one-shot)

The bus was late.

Tony slumped further in his seat, trying to tune out the chattering next to him while the hard metal rungs of the bench dug further into his back. Tony didn't care if Maria's youngest child had finally started kindergarten or if the acne-ridden line cook sitting in between them was saving up to go to flight school. He did care that their conversation was making the words of his essay prompt swim on the page, 'night shift' and 'empty nest' burrowing an unwanted space between 'where do you see yourself in ten years?'.

Hopefully by then he'd be done waiting at this stupid bus stop.

Maria cackled loudly at something Acne Face had said and Tony took a deep breath through his nose, bouncing his left leg and focusing more intently on the notebook balanced on his right.

In ten years I will be, he wrote, pencil jerking when one of them- Maria, probably- began playing a video clip that started out like an air raid siren. Old people never knew how to fucking lower their volume in public. Tony didn't bother erasing the jagged line that streaked across his page or the one knitting his eyebrows together.

...in anger management, he finished wryly. Or jail.

Maria's shiny clump of necklaces caught the light as she leaned forward and Tony made the mistake of glancing up to investigate, caught in the headlights of her searching gaze while the large man in between them tried to respectfully shrink into nothingness.

"I'm sorry honey," she said apologetically, the remnant of a laugh still caught in her throat. "Are we being too loud?"

Tony grit his teeth against his instinctual, biting response. As much as she was getting on his nerves now, Maria was unbearably nice to him and always dropped off an apple pie during the holidays.

"A bit," he forced out, along with his best half-smile.

Her pleasant expression- endlessly patient while he searched his vocabulary for words that wouldn't sting- turned apologetic and Tony's stomach soured. "It's- it's whatever," he amended, turning away. "I was gonna wrap it up anyways. Bus should be here soon."

"Still," she said softly, followed by an awkward apology from the line cook that might have been the result of an expectant look from Maria. Tony couldn't be sure, eyes locked on an uninteresting pebble.

He rolled it around beneath the sole of his show for the five seconds it took for him to become bored, then kicked it and watched the rock skate clumsily over the curb and into the empty space beyond. Where the bus should be.

"Tory's not picking you up, today?" Maria continued pleasantly.

Tony shook his head, biting down a mean grin while imagining the way his mother's face would scrunch up at the nickname. "Nah."

"Well," Maria replied, the sigh and shifting fabric letting him know that she'd given up on eye contact, "might still be faster if she gets you from here."

"What?" Tony asked, turning his head only to be met with a pale, tattooed bicep. With a barely audible huff, he leaned forward to see around the line cook. "But the bus is supposed to come at four," he insisted.

The line cook chuckled and Tony scowled at him, unencumbered by apple-pie shaped shackles.

The man reigned himself in with an awkward cough. "I don't know where you heard that," he said, "but this bus never shows up earlier than five."

Tony stared at him, then Maria, then the line cook again. The man offered him a shrug.

"Five," Tony repeated blandly.

"Five," they agreed.

Tony clenched his fists, silently burying himself in his backpack to escape their sympathetic grimaces but he could still feel their eyes on the back of his neck like a rash. He rifled carelessly through notebooks and folders and textbooks, crumpling half of them in his wake before coming back up with a fresh sheet of paper and the stub of a pencil.

The stubs were harder to snap.

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek and tuned out the tentative chatter starting up again on his right.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

Tony scribbled his name on the top of the page, first and last. Then the date. Then the name of his homeroom teacher just for the hell of it, trying to at least look like he was busy and not avoiding the rest of the page.

"College applications, huh?" the line cook commented.

Tony's nostrils flared. Apparently he didn't look busy enough.

"Oh, Angelica had such an awful time with hers," Maria lamented. Tony had already chosen his prompt but he leaned further over his paper to write down the other two. "Something about who you'd want to have dinner with? Honestly, how a college can pick you based on your dinner guests makes no sense to me," she complained, huffing, "and if Mother Teresa isn't good enough for them then they're not good enough for my daughter."

The line cook whistled appreciatively, a bit of mirth slipping out in the shade of his voice. "You tell 'em."

Tony slowly uncurled from his hunched over position, not quite turning his head to face them.

"Angelica got rejected?"

"Mm," Maria agreed solemnly. "Three times." Then she shrugged, the bitterness alighting from her shoulders like birds on a wire. "But she'd happy where she is."

Tony tapped his pencil stub against his knee, retreating from the conversation once more.

Angelica was two years older than him and he only ever really saw her at church or the odd Christmas party but he knew for a fact she had ranked first in her year. Hell, he'd overheard her reciting her valedictorian speech instead of prayer during communion too many times to count.

Tony pulled out his phone, tapping until he found the right screen.

He held his breath.

S. Antonio, 42

And kept holding it, idly wishing that he could just pass out and not have to deal with college applications anymore. He imagined a puppet doctor in a crisp white lab coat saying, Sorry ma'am, turns out your kid's terminally ill and needs to be exempt from college applications. Bed rest only.

His little wooden limbs would jangle as he shrugged.

Then he imagined his puppet mother pointing in the doctor's face, demanding that they heal him because Tony wasn't allowed to die before becoming a doctor himself and the puppet doctor would droop like his strings had been cut and do as he was told because Tony's mother controlled the universe.

"Uh...hey, kid? Everything alright over there?"

Tony's head snapped up to the line cook, blinking away his daydream and the black spots while he heaved in a lungful of air as subtly as possible. "I'm fine," he spat on the exhale.

Tony's pencil stub lay on the ground between his feet, having slipped from his shaky hands. The sheet of paper, still mostly blank, lay plastered to his thigh.

"Essay that hard?" the line cook asked lightly, lips quirked up in a careful smile.

Tony sneered in the face of it, bristling. "No," he snapped. Heart pounding and lungs still trembling, Tony sat up straighter and gave the man a onceover. "I know damn well where I don't want to be in ten years."

The man's eyes widened but a chuckle was quick to follow. "On your way home to the love of your life after a good day at work?"

Tony's mouth fell open, letting loose a weak, "I-"

"Antonio!" his mother called, her sleek gray car pulling into the space in front of the bench. Right where the bus should be. "Get in, what're you waiting around for?"

Tony scrambled to shove his things back into his bag, staunchly avoiding eye contact and standing before he was finished, nearly tripping for his efforts. The back of his neck burned.

"Nice to see you, Tory," Maria called.

Victoria's mouth pursed, then smoothed out into what she probably thought was polite neutrality, fingers tapping the steering wheel at regular intervals. "You too," she said, voice so falsely sweet it could rot your teeth. Tony wondered if they could tell. "How's Angelica doing? I heard she moved back home?"

Tony paused, hand on the open frame of the passenger side door. His mother's interest might not have been genuine but Tony knew as soon as he was inside the car she'd be off without waiting for the answer. He stepped away to load his bag in the backseat, instead.

"She's happy," Maria replied, the serene smile audible in her voice. "Rediscovering her passions." Tony's mother offered a noncommittal hum, sharp eyes darting to her son's hesitating form. "And your children?" Maria inquired.

"Oh, they're wonderful," Tony's mother replied. "Brock's nearly finished with law school now. Columbia. And of course, Antonio here's getting ready to apply to all the best schools in the country." She smiled, polished teeth flashing. "A little doctor in the making."

Tony kept his eyes low as he slipped into the passenger seat and his mother hardly waited for the door to shut behind him before pulling away. For a few, long moments neither of them said anything, letting the quiet hum of the engine permeate the empty space the way other families listened to the radio. Tony's leg bounced silently.

"Maria's nice," he finally said, the statement hanging in the air like a reprimand.

His mother's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Mhmm."

Tony rolled the words around behind his teeth, weighing the risks, before adding a careful, "So's her wife."

"Did I say anything unsavory?" his mother snapped. Tony shook his head, shifting in his seat to stare determinedly out the window, cursing his inability to disappear or turn back time or sew his mouth shut.

"Well?" she pressed.

Tony wished he hadn't said anything at all. "No."

"That's what I thought," she said shortly. Then she sighed. "I don't know why you always have to paint me as the villain, Antonio."

"Sorry," Tony muttered quietly.

In his head, he wrote, In ten years, I do not want to be like my mother.

In his head, he wrote, Maybe I'll sit on a bus bench with a friend after a good day of work and won't daydream about dying.

Maybe I won't even mind if the bus is late.

Fool Me Once, 793 words, Riku x Iori, i7 shenanigans

“I swear to god,” Iori groaned, rubbing his temples as Riku followed him into the dorm’s common space, “every time you describe your brother as kind, an angel loses its wings.”

“What?” Riku exclaimed, his kicked-puppy expression glued to Iori and not the five other i7 members shooting him varying looks of concern and dismay. “But Tenn-nii is kind!”

A sudden, metallic crash drew their attention to the kitchen, where Nagi-san was flailing dramatically to the floor.

“My wings!” he cried, clutching his chest as he fell. “Riku, how could you do this to me?”

Iori and Sogo-san sighed in unison.

“Nagi-kun, we need that pan for dinner,” Sogo-san gently chastised.

Still lying on the ground with his eyes closed, Nagi-san picked up the pan and offered it in Sogo-san’s general direction.

Seriously, Iori thought to himself, how is this guy my senior?

“I-it’s not that bad! Really!” Riku defended. “He’s nice!”

Yotsuba-san groaned and fell to the floor.

Riku flushed a deep red.

“In his own way he is!”

“Oh no,” Yamato-san replied in monotone, slowly lowering himself to a horizontal position on the couch while he continued to flip through his magazine. “My wings.”

“Guys,” Riku complained.

“As a big brother myself,” Mitsuki began, ignoring Iori’s eyeroll, “I’m seriously concerned about your standard of niceness.”

“Didn’t you try to sell me, once?” Iori interjected bluntly.

Mitsuki waved away the protest. “I was like, three then. But now when my dear baby brother is upset, I- a superior big brother- make him pancakes in the shape of cute bunnies.”

“How come you only make the rest of us regular pancakes?” Yotsuba-san complained from his wingless position on the carpet.

“Now what does "Tenn-nii" do?” Mitsuki continued pointedly, heedless of the interruption.

“I know this one,” Sogo-san announced proudly before clearing his throat and drawing his features into something poorly resembling Kujo-san’s cold stare. “Nanase, who?”

“But-“

“And what does dear Iori-kun say?” Mitsuki prompted next, grinning widely.

“What?” Iori replied, narrowing his eyes in the face of so many sudden, teasing grins in the room. This felt like a trap. “We’re talking about-“

“Nanase-san,” Yamato-san said in a poor affectation of Iori’s voice, “I’ll make you a superstar!”

Mitsuki pretended to swoon into Yamato’s arms, effectively crushing the man and his magazine into the couch.

Iori frowned, ears burning. “That was-“

“Nanase-san, let me control you,” Nagi said next, reaching his hand out in front of himself like he was on the cover of a shoujo manga.

“You heard that?” Iori exclaimed.

Yotsuba-san laughed. “You said what, Iorin?”

Sogo-san began fanning his face. "Oh my."

“Nanase-san,” Mitsuki picked up next, rising off of Yamato-san to mimic Nagi-san's overtly romantic gesture. “You’re so cute. Ahem, I mean. You’re so stupid.”

Yotsuba-san gasped and pointed. “Iorin’s a tsundere!”

“I am not!” Iori howled. “And I don’t have to stand here and take this. Nanase-san-"

Riku turned toward Iori with wide eyes, his face only a few shades lighter than his hair, and Iori suddenly had no idea why his instinct had been to turn to him in the first place.

“Cat got your tongue?” Yamato-san teased.

“I’m leaving!” Iori declared, retrieving his keys from the shared bowl near the front door. The rainbow keychain he’d given Riku stared back at him mockingly.

“We’re making bunny pancakes for dinner!” Mitsuki reminded him.

“I’ll be back!” Iori huffed angrily, slamming the door behind himself.

Within the dorm, Riku stood frozen.

Tamaki wandered over to lightly fan his burning face.

“S-so…”

“Yay!” Nagi cheered, popping up from the kitchen floor. “Moment of realization!”

“So Iori-kun’s…a better brother to me?” Riku asked haltingly.

Nagi wailed and collapsed back onto the ground, various noises of exasperation and disappointment from the other members following suit.

Riku had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at them. Discreetly, he pulled out his phone.

Iori <3: are they done yet?

Riku: pretty sure, yeah

Riku: “brother” heh

Iori <3: gross. pls don’t make that a thing

Riku: it got them off the trail at least

Riku: tho idk why ur so set on telling ur parents first, obvi they can all tell already

Riku: and Mitsuki's literally ur brother

Iori <3: it’s called respect

Iori <3: and my brother deserves none. he finds out last. or perhaps never.

Riku: whatever u say, bunny <3

Iori <3: agahsjskdk

Iori <3: make sure they don’t eat all the cute pancakes before I get back

Iori <3: honey

Iori <3: ew wait no I don’t like it.

Iori <3: give me a do-over.

Riku: call me riku tomorrow and I’ll call it even, bunny

Riku: especially after u ABANDONED ur dear and loving boyfriend to the WOLVES

Iori <3: …fine. deal

Iori <3: riku

Idolish7 fanfic- Ringing Hearts <3

-Nagi x Mitsuki, introspective Mitsuki, fluff, slight angst-

Mitsuki lay on his side in bed, idly swiping through his phone. The only light left on in the room was the small square being projected onto his weary face. Mitsuki should be sleeping at this hour but he couldn’t bring himself to settle, allowing the soft music pouring from the speaker to create a more melancholic atmosphere than the day deserved.

Mitsuki was glad to be getting so much MC work lately. Really, he was.  

It was just difficult to set aside the fact that their fans thought he talked too much, knowing that Mitsuki had only made it onto i7 as part of a package deal. 

But Mitsuki knew better to dwell on that, so he swiped.   

Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.

-David Foster Wallace   

Mitsuki lingered on this slide long enough for the music in the background to loop, then he laughed quietly.  

How odd was it to go seeking a distraction and stumble across a mirror, instead?

Mitsuki held the moderation Yamato had given him close to his heart, but this- this desperation to keep a white-knuckled grip on the things he held dear- was something written into the very marrow of Mitsuki’s bones. 

It was what kept him signing up for auditions- always reaching, even if it meant his hand might be slapped mercilessly away, again and again. It’s what kept him up at night when he ached from the brutal sting of rejection. It’s what had spurred Iori to glue them together in the first place, if only to spare Mitsuki the pain. 

Gratitude and insecurity were glued in equal measure to that memory, but now that they were here Mitsuki knew he would never let go of i7 without engraving his desperate desire for their success beneath his fingernails, first. 

The thought of ever being dragged away from the group was an uneasy one, though, so Mitsuki swiped again.  

Achilles did not slur my name, as people often did, running it together as if in a hurry to be rid of it. Instead, he rang each syllable:

Pa-tro-clus.

-Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

Again, Mitsuki paused. An image of Nagi’s shining face poked its way into his thoughts, unbidden, whining for Mitsuki to watch Magical Cocona with him. 

Mit-su-ki, Nagi always said. Drawing the syllables out so the shape of Mitsuki’s name lingered on his lips. 

Thoughtful, Mitsuki raised a finger to his own lips and pressed down. 

Mitsuki was used to people wanting to be rid of him. Used to people batting away his outstretched hand in search of something more. Something better. 

No one had ever lingered on Mitsuki, before. 

The thought brought warmth to Mitsuki’s face and he slammed his phone down on the bed, throwing his room into a sudden, searing darkness.

Mitsuki’s heart pounded against his chest- a wild, fluttering thing- and he felt stripped bare, his racing thoughts thrown into sharp relief without the soft haze of the phone screen to blur them.

It was so warm, all of a sudden.  

Had someone messed with the thermostat? 

Surely that’s all it was, and not…

Mitsuki carefully grasped his phone, tilting the screen back towards himself. 

he rang each syllable, it said. Pa-tro-clus. 

A nervous smile tugged at Mitsuki’s burning cheeks, a gentle weightlessness skittering through his stomach. 

Mit-su-ki, Nagi always said. 

Mit-su-ki. 

Surely Nagi knew the emphasis didn’t belong in the middle of his name, and yet…

And yet, he rang each syllable. 

Mitsuki pressed his face into his pillow, carefully cradling the belltower resonance that had been struck each time his name was spoken with such care, building and building and building until the brass echo brought blood rushing to the surface of Mitsuki’s smile.

Mit-su-ki, Nagi always said- sparkling and golden and princelike. 

“Nagi Rokuya,” Mitsuki whispered into his pillow. “Na-gi.”

The music on Mitsuki’s phone looped gently again. 

Mitsuki carefully rang each syllable.

“Ro-ku-ya.”

Delighted laughter bubbled past his lips, swallowed by the walls keeping watch over Mitsuki's feelings. 

Maybe…maybe that’s what Iori had meant the other day. When Mitsuki was sitting on the couch with Nagi, watching the man far more than the anime, and he’d placed a hand on Mitsuki’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper, It’s okay, onii-san. 

Maybe it would be, Mitsuki thought. 

Maybe Nagi Rokuya was another one of those things Mitsuki wouldn’t let go of without a fight.

Lost for words | bi_focal

Tags: Bakugou & Izuku, post-war, introspection, friendship/love, fluff (could be read as gen or slash)

Summary: Where Bakugou feels guilty about their childhood, Izuku doesn't know what to say, and they find that they don't need many words to communicate, after all.

Izuku lets his gaze drop to Kacchan’s fists, instead, and finds them clenched so tight he’s surely leaving half-moon impressions on his palms. There’s no smoke leaking out between his bone-white knuckles but, then again, Kacchan has always had impeccable control of his quirk. And they had always communicated better with their hands, hadn’t they?

1,690 words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56130106

(i'm pretty proud of this one, guys)

recommendation if you ship Bassrock

this one shot is from @bluestblazesao3, give him lots of love because his drabbles are pure gold!!!!

Quick BassRock Drabble

(Something quick I want to write because the BassRock tag here on Tumblr is too quiet. It’s SFW I swear y’all)

Based off the prompt: “How would you rate your pain?”

(This content is SFW, but please note that Bass still swears a lot here!)

~~~

Seguir leyendo

Was goodness abandoning your friends as they struggled to breathe in hospital beds while you stood beside your enemies? While your thumb caresses the back of her soft hands to comfort her, for her tears are the one thing you cannot endure?

Or

Himiko Toga lives, and Uraraka struggles with the concept of heroism.

DUTY CALLS

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

a/n: i wrote this super quickly bc honestly i’ll never get enough of this idea however many times it’s done😭

-> drabble <-

"God, you feel so fucking good." Aaron groaned, his voice both hoarse and breathy as he thrust his hips in quick succession against your own, trailing the pad of his thumb over your pebbled nipple, the warmth of his body looming over yours as he toyed with the stiff peak.

“Aaron..” His name fell from your lips amidst a soft moan, feeling heat burn through your skin with each stroke of his hips against you.

"I know." He breathed, "Taking my cock so well, honey."

He thrust his hips quicker, splaying his large hands across your chest, squeezing possessively at your breasts as he ran his opposing hand from its grip of your hips to your bare ass.

"That's my good girl." He practically grunted, warm skin smacking together. Purposeful in his teasing, Aaron rolled the hardened peak of your nipple between his fingers, pulling a shaky moan from your mouth.

"Fuck, yes.." You whined back arching in a plea for more - his touch somehow both firm and tender against the sensitivity.

"Such pretty tits, darling." He praised, hungry gaze running deep as it wandered back between your thighs. His cock twitched between the pulses of your walls as he absorbed the sight of him disappearing inside your cunt, your arousal soaking his shaft.

As your teeth punctured into your lower lip, a blaring ringtone escaped Aaron’s phone as it lay atop the beside table.

"Shit." He hissed, eyes flitting to the number that presented itself on his screen.

"Aaron.." You begged, "Please don't- fuck- don't stop.."

Your words sent heat pumping through him as he kept up the pace of him without fail, teeth gritting in response to your plea, his jaw tight with conflict. After the passing of a few short moments, he seized the phone in his hand, shooting you a stern look as he swiped his thumb over the screen.

“Hotchner.” He spoke, clearing his throat as he brought his rhythm to be much slower, assuring the sound of your skin colliding wasn’t audible over the line.

Your eyes widened in an instant, the thrill of it only heightening your arousal. You breathed softly, trying your absolute best to remain quiet as you heard a male voice mumbling on the other end of the exchange.

With his remaining hand, Aaron slid the pad of his thumb upward from your breasts, sliding it messily over your lips as he silently mouthed, ‘Open.’

Suppressing your desperation to make a noise, you parted your lips and allowed him to slide the pad of his thumb against your tongue.

"Have you sent the files over?" He inquired, keeping his voice impressively steady as he moved slowly against you.

Satisfied whimpers fought to escape your throat as you pushed them down, feeling Aaron’s thumb pressing against your tongue. Without the need to be told, you wrapped your lips around the thick digit, muffling yourself around his thumb as you watched him clutch the device against his ear.

His eyelids shut for a brief moment before he forced them open again, clearly struggling to hold back as he felt you squeezing him. The sight of you certainly didn’t help either, cunt full of his tauntingly slow thrusts as you sucked sweetly at his thumb, only nearing his release, “Alright. Be there soon.”

The very moment the phone beeped and the call cut, Aaron let out a frustrated groan. He wasted no time in picking up the pace of his hips once more, dragging his now damp thumb down your chin, “You did so good for me, honey. Now show me how loud you can be.”

I MISS MY MANNNN

But fr I love when it's a pregnancy trope of sorts

Come to bed, Jagi.

~{A oneshot where you are In-Ho’s wife, you didn’t end up passing away, but the baby did. You had a liver transplant. But In-Ho was already in the games to pay off the medical bills. He was offered the position of Frontman. You both take to the island 1 month a year. Reader is pregnant again, and In-Ho is horrified to let you roam the complex. You are 6 months along.}~

♪♪ ~{Jupiter ~ Flower Face}~ ♪♪

~{No mention of Y/N}~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Go back to your quarters. Frontman’s orders.” The head security officer growled. Blocking you from exiting the main control room. The square on his face seemingly taunting you as you pouted. The bed you and your husband shared had been cold and empty for days. You were sick of it. The screen in the suite had only shown the games, nothing else, only short glimpses of your In-ho.

“I don’t care. I want to see my husband.” You speak, anger present in your tone as you weave around him to the screens. You knew something was happening, you could hear faint gunshots from your shared suite. You caressed your stomach, feeling light kicking from the little girl. Your frustration must have made her upset too, judging by her constant kicking. Peering through the several different cameras upon the monitor, you spot him, and the baby’s kicking subsides.

Lost in the purple maze outside the very room you stood, you saw your sweet husband, with two others. He signaled them forward and looked towards the camera. A blank, but authoritative expression gracing his face. Butterflies arising in your chest at his smooth features blessing your eyes once more. He moved forward before you heard a few deafening gunshots nearby. Flipping through the cameras, he had just dropped his radio; but you could hear him over the other guards walkie’s.

“Wrap things up.” His voice husky from barking orders for this ‘rebellion’. You sighed in relief, hearing footsteps towards the control room door. Two guards held his frontman suit, prepared for his entry, but you stood only for him. And after a few seconds of rocking yourself in the cold room, holding your stomach for comfort, you heard the hissing of door opening. Meeting his eyes, he looked shocked and concerned.

“What are you doing down here? You should be up in bed, Jagi.” He questioned worriedly, slipping his leather gloves on, holding your face.

“I missed you… So did she…” You whine, holding your stomach more exaggeratedly. A little kick was felt, as In-ho sighed, placing his hand upon your exposed stomach.

“Please, Jagi- Go back to our room. I’ll be back in 20. I promise.” Slipping into his pants and shoes, not bothering to take off his track outfit, just throwing the rest over. The head of security handed him his mask, as he slipped on his jacket. You whine, sweat beading down your face and neck from frustration and anxiety. The liquid seeping into the pink button up sitting over your swollen belly. “For me-“ He pecked your cheek before donning his mask.

“Be careful please.” You said to him, as he turned away. Nodding, In-ho signaled the head to take you, and you groaned to yourself. You knew damn well it wouldn’t be 20 minutes. He would come back and sit in front of the wall of screens, making sure everything was in place while you lie in the cold bed once more. As the guard escorted you back to the room, you heard one final gunshot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been 2 hours. You knew he was watching those damned screens. Tempted, you pull yourself up from the black, leather loveseat in front of the TV with a huff to go get your husband. Slipping on a pair of outdoor slippers, and grabbing his jacket. You step into the elevator at the back of the black hallway and descend.

When the elevator doors slid open, In-ho was just where you thought he was, watching the screen intently. The man he had told you he was monitoring was there. Gi-hun, you remembered. He was sobbing and rocking himself in his bed, his friends who were left surrounding and comforting him. With a sigh, you walk to your husband.

“Come back, dear. It’s been longer than you said.” You mumbled, putting your hand on his shoulder and laying your head upon it. The rough fabric grounding you. He paid no mind, only wrapping his arm around your waist as he continued to observe. “He’s not going anywhere, everyone’s on high alert, yeah?”

In-ho let out an anxious sigh, turning his head slightly to look at you. “Yes… I’m afraid he will try again, though.”

“He has to grieve. He won’t try again tonight. Please, let’s just go. I miss you.” Pleading with him, your hormones high thanks to the baby. Tears prick at your eyes from the emotions. You tug slightly at his jacket as his resolve crumbles. Grumbling, he pulls out his talkie.

“Keep watch all night. I’ve got business.” He turns it off, turning with you in tow to the elevator. “Let’s go, dear.” Arriving back at the suite, you were all over him. Kissing his face, hugging him and whispering sweet words to him while dragging him to the bathroom. Starting the tap, you helped undress your husband.

Each scar was traced softly by fingers. Bullet wounds, knife marks, and more. He unbuttoned the pink pajama shirt you wore, admiring your bloated pregnant belly, caressing it. He kissed your forehead before you both sank into the warm water. “I missed you too, Jagi.” In-ho spoke softly behind you, kissing the back of your head. You lay back, kissing his cheek as he grabs a soap bottle and a cloth.

“You’ve been busy- no, hun.” You order, taking the items from him, pouring and lathering soap onto the cloth. Cleaning him, he doesn’t take the smitten look off his face, eyes locked onto your focused being. You carefully cleaned him, cautious around his sensitive scars. When you finished, you started washing his hair. You were putting spikes into it, making yourself giggle, and making him look at you with a happy, but annoyed face.

He took his turn next, calloused hands roaming softly as he cleaned. He lathered you head gently, and let your conditioner sit. Turning around, you cuddled into him, the smell of cinnamon and roses filling the foggy room. Short little lines were babbled between the two of you as he rinsed the conditioner from your hair, and stood from the bath with a groan. You sat there as the water drained, watching your husband wrap himself in a towel. Eventually he stands you up, and wraps you in a towel.

The two of you finish your nightly routines, relishing these beginning moments of being with each other once more. You dress in airy clothes and stare at yourself, your sweet In-ho behind you, making your shared bed. You look at yourself tired eyes, swollen ankles and large stomach. Little did you know, In-ho was looking at you with the most love ridden eyes. Admiring every curve and bend, especially with your pregnancy. He found you exceptionally attractive.

“Come to bed, Jagi.” He asks, making your ears perk at his voice. His pupils basically being hearts, with them floating above his head too. You oblige, lying next to him, and he brought you both under. Immediately he was hugging you so close, you thought you would merge into him, to become one. “I missed you so much. I didn’t want to leave you here alone.” He admitted, holding you close, stroking your hair and stomach. “I was so worried someone would get you during that rebellion.” He whispered, seemingly to himself. Burrowing into his chest, you whine that it’s okay.

“I’m safe, I’m here. You’re here too. I think it’s time to sleep though.” You say, slightly muffled. He chuckles. “It will keep you distracted.” You say, slightly drifting out. “Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight, Jagi.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL 😭😭

second chance | hwang in-ho x fem! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then your breath hitched.

It was him—.

In-ho.

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

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

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

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

And then, he voted. O.

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

But none of that mattered to you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was his purpose. His only focus.

Or so he thought.

Everything changed the moment he saw you.

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

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

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

You shouldn’t be here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t part of the plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until he heard your voice.

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

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

In-ho couldn’t help but stare.

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

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

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

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

You never change.

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

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

It was one of the things that terrified him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze, listening.

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Victory at all costs!”

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

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

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

“Player 007.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annoyed by the uncomfortable pause, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “Gi-hun, that’s a bit much. We all know there’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just stay focused. We need to eat, get ourselves together, and prepare for the next round.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And as it turned out, he was right.

2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there he was—In-ho.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you couldn’t let that happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, the announcement broke the silence.

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

Player 047 turned to the group, his voice firm. “Listen, no one can change their mind, okay? We’ll win tomorrow. Stay strong, and we’ll make it through.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll take their guns.”

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

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

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

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

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

Player 120 spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling. “Do we even stand a chance?”

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

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

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

Lights out in ten.

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

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

One.

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

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

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

Then the chaos began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was In-ho.

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

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

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

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

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

But you knew better. It was far from over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The gunfire stopped.

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

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

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

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

“It’s safe to come out now.”

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

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

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

In-ho.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it broke you, how painfully right you were.

I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCHHH 😫😫

I wanted to request a Frontman smut where he gets really jealous and possessive. You can write the storyline however you want. Thank you and much love from Germany 🖤

i'm so sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it! i really enjoyed writing this one!!

You're Mine

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: you're mine by phantogram

warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY

You sat in the large leather chair, listening to quiet jazz music as you finished up your work for the day on your tablet. The final round was to begin tomorrow, and the remaining three players had just finished their celebratory dinner. As the day was turning to evening, In-ho was still out dealing with the intruder. You wanted to go with him and help, but had too many things to deal with, mainly keeping the VIPs from figuring out what was going on. 

Your relationship with In-ho was a strange one. You’d worked together now for about a year, and in many ways you felt like you knew him as a close friend and a stranger at the same time. You knew many things about him yet still longed to know more, and sometimes he felt so far away you’d questioned everything you’d known about him before. He was an enigmatic figure to you. 

At times, you felt your heart leap at the thought of him, or the sight of him, and wondered if he felt the same for you. You wanted to think he did when his eyes lingered on you a second too long, or when he stood a little too close to you, but nothing ever happened beyond little things like that, and it confused you. And because of his temperament, you never wanted to make the first move.

As you sat there wondering how he was doing with the intruder, you were pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of the elevator opening. You turned around in the chair to see In-ho walking down the hallway, hand over his shoulder and mask still on. He walked straight to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. You could tell, even under the mask, he was upset.

You decided to stay put, not wanting to interfere with whatever he was dealing with. After a while, you heard shuffling and a soft clang on metal on metal, followed by a groan. He was clearly in a lot of pain. What the hell was going on?

Before you could decide whether or not to offer help, you heard a loud thud and the clanging of metal falling to the ground. You quickly stood up and rushed to the door, hesitating in confusion before knocking. 

“In-ho? Are you okay?”

Complete silence followed.

You knocked again with no response. After a few moments, you slowly opened the door to find In-ho lying on the ground unconscious, blood pouring out of a wound on his shoulder. He’d removed his mask and coat to reveal a black tank top.

“In-ho?!” you cried, stunned. He was unresponsive.

You kneeled next to him, shaking his uninjured shoulder to get him to wake up, but nothing worked. The bleeding continued and by the pale color in his face, you knew it was dire. Looking around, you noticed a bullet in a metal dish and first aid supplies on the counter.

You quickly grabbed everything you could and began to treat his wound. He definitely needed stitches. Fortunately you’d been trained for moments like this, though it wasn’t the ideal option. After stitching the wound and applying bandages, you lifted him up as best as you could at the shoulders to lean him on the wall. He still hadn’t awoken, but thankfully the color was returning to his face.

You wet a small towel and began to gently wipe around his face and neck. You were beyond concerned, hoping he would wake up soon. If he didn’t, you’d probably have to bring this up with the others, and if the VIPs found out there was an intruder… it might be worse than getting shot.

You sighed as these thoughts swirled in your mind, and began to clean the blood around his arm and shoulder. You were worried about the VIPs, of course, but most of all you just hoped he would be okay. What would you do if he wasn’t around anymore? Selfishly, you almost regretted never being forward with your feelings for him. What if it was too late?

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you tried to keep it in, taking a deep breath to try to calm yourself. As you looked around, unsure of what to do next, you heard In-ho groan. Pain was etched on his face, but you were just happy he was conscious and alive.

“In-ho? In-ho, it’s me.” You gently touched his hand to let him know of your presence.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at you. He took a deep breath, grimacing, before looking around. 

“In-ho, what happened?”

He looked at you and leaned his head back on the wall, closing his eyes. You could tell he was trying to push through the pain, so you stood up to grab some pain medication and filled a glass of water at the sink.

You kneeled down again. “Here, take this.” You put the pill in his mouth and held the glass to his lips, encouraging him to drink. He looked at you confused for a moment before sipping the water, and took the glass with his good arm.

You sat there as he drank and set the water down. In-ho looked down at his wound, noticing it was bandaged. He sighed and reached forward, touching his hand on yours.

“Thank you.”

You nodded and squeezed his hand. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on you. Your mind was already shaken from fear of In-ho not making it, but now you were even more overwhelmed.

“Was it the intruder?” you asked, softly.

“Yes.”

“Where is he now?”

“Gone.”

You nodded. At least that was taken care of. You sighed, feeling exhausted to your core. It was late and both of you needed to rest. You stood up and reached your hand out to him.

“You should get some rest.”

He sighed and held your hand, slowly standing up with your help. Instantly, he groaned from dizziness, and leaned on your shoulders for support. You slowly walked him to his room towards his bed, helping him sit down. He sat up on his headboard and pillow, his head drifting to the side from his delirious state.

You noticed he started bleeding again and quickly grabbed more bandages and towels. As you fixed him up again, he groaned from the pain but still seemed out of it. It killed you inside to cause him pain but you knew it was necessary. After finishing up, you wiped the sweat from his face again, sitting next to him on the bed.

In-ho looked at you through half-lidded eyes, his breath calming.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered, slightly smiling.

You softly chuckled, not used to hearing such words from him. You continued to gently wipe his face, and he put his hand over yours. You stared at him silently as his hand grasped yours tightly. It was at this moment you noticed your faces were incredibly close, and you felt your cheeks flush red. 

You stared at each other for several moments, and you felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him. But what if he didn’t feel the same for you? What if you were just caught up in the moment? You felt selfish for wanting him after something so terrible just happened.

Your fears were quickly quelled when he leaned forward ever so slightly. “Come here.”

That was all you needed to hear. You gently leaned forward and pressed your lips on his, his lips eagerly responding to yours. For as tough of an image as he had, his lips were so satisfyingly soft. You pulled away and looked at each other for a brief moment, almost silently asking for permission to continue, before he leaned forward to kiss you again. You dropped the damp towel and held his face with both hands as he reached forward to touch your face. Though his other arm had limited movement from his injured shoulder, he reached forward and rested that hand on your thigh.

Your kisses were quickly becoming more intense and heated, and In-ho reached his hand from your face to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss. As your tongues began melting with each other, he lightly pulled on your hair and you moaned softly. He groaned in response, pulling your hair harder. You were getting lost in the moment and leaned forward, starting to move to sit on his lap as his hands went to your sides. Immediately, In-ho groaned and pulled away.

He grasped his shoulder out of pain, grimacing. You sat back down next to him, ashamed for going too far while he was in this condition. Now wasn’t the time no matter how much you both wanted it. You both needed to rest, and In-ho was clearly too delirious and in pain for you to go further. You sighed and gave him a pitying look, and he reached his hand to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed.

“Don’t be,” you said as you slightly smiled. “Get some rest. Do you need anything?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes closed. You could tell he was already drifting into unconsciousness. You stood up and pulled his blanket over him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. Before you turned around to leave, you heard him mumble.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You looked at him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in your mind. You were worried for him, having been injured so severely and being in such pain, but you were also happy you finally had some sort of confession of your feelings. Knowing he felt the same towards you made you feel elated inside. You were happily anticipating what was to come, once this round of games were over and In-ho was recovered.

“Goodnight, In-ho.”

~~~

The next day you and In-ho stayed with the VIPs during the final round. Before going to meet them, you briefly saw each other unmasked in passing, but his face was stoic. He didn’t even acknowledge you. You knew he was going through a lot, so you tried to push away your disappointment. Though your mind was overwhelmed, you had to stay focused in front of the VIPs. 

The day went by without any problems, and by the end of the day you were riding in the limo with In-ho and the final winner. You briefly had your masks off, before the sleeping gas was released, but In-ho barely looked at or acknowledged you. Even after dropping the winner off, he kept his mask on while you took yours off.

You sat awkwardly as the limo drove to your apartment. You glanced at him a couple of times, but he stayed facing forward, completely silent. He was known for his temperament, you knew that, but what had him so upset right now that he couldn’t even acknowledge you?

Did he regret it?

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, glancing at him. “Are you okay?”

He stayed silent for a while, before sighing and turning away. “I’m fine.”

It was the first time he spoke to you all day, and he sounded irritated. What was so wrong with you asking him if he was okay? You started becoming irritated yourself, scoffing and turning away. It was clear he thought everything that happened the night before was a mistake, and now you were just upset with yourself for having a moment of weakness.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw In-ho glance at you briefly, but that just made you even more annoyed. Luckily the limo was pulling up to your apartment, and you promptly got out without acknowledging In-ho, quickly walking to the building.

Once you made it inside your apartment, you threw your belongings on the ground and sat on your couch, stewing in your thoughts. There had been so much tension between you two, it only felt natural to act on your feelings that night. He even initiated it. So what was the problem today? Why would he regret it?

You groaned out of frustration and tried to distract yourself. There was no use dwelling on it. If he didn’t want anything to do with you, there was nothing you could do about it. 

Or was there?

The next day you had plans to go to dinner with In-ho, Il-nam, and the salesman, to celebrate the end of the games. You didn’t know much about the salesman. He intentionally stayed elusive to almost everyone, not revealing his name on purpose. With his role, it was probably best to stay as anonymous as possible.

You hadn’t interacted with him much before, but maybe if In-ho saw the two of you together…

~~~

The next evening, you were waiting outside of your apartment building for the limo to pick you up. You’d gone all out, putting on a revealing but still dinner-appropriate outfit and a comfortable layer of makeup, hair done perfectly. It was certainly unlike anything you’d worn during work, which hopefully would do the trick. You figured if In-ho really wanted to forget what happened that night, you’d make it hard for him to do so. And if he didn’t care, then what was the harm in having a little fun trying to make him jealous?

The limo arrived and the door opened from the inside to reveal the salesman with his alluring smile, beckoning you to join him. 

“Y/n, good to see you again.” You could see him looking you up and down in slight surprise as you walked towards him. This would be too easy.

You entered the limo and sat next to the salesman towards the middle. Though the seat extended the length of the limo, the two of you sat close to each other. He poured the two of you a glass of champagne as the limo began driving towards In-ho’s apartment.

“To another successful year.” He flashed his smile again and touched his glass to yours.

The two of you made small talk on the way to pick up In-ho. It was clear he was attracted to you, leaning in when you spoke, looking at you like you were a work of art, and you played into every bit of it. If you didn’t have such strong feelings for In-ho, you thought you’d consider pursuing things further with him.

The limo quickly arrived in front of In-ho, who let himself in, sitting on the back seat. For a moment, you were speechless, noticing his sleek attire. He was dressed in all black, everything fitting absolutely perfectly. You instantly smelled his cologne and your heart leaped. Seeing him outside of the standard Front Man uniform, looking that exquisite, took your breath away.

You took a deep breath, pulling yourself together. You had an objective here, and you couldn’t forget how coldly he treated you just the day before. You sat up straight and sipped your champagne, nodding as the salesman greeted him. In-ho looked at you, and unbeknownst to you had a similar reaction as you did seeing him. He was taken aback by your attire and how good you looked. You felt his eyes linger on you and hoped he was already regretting his behavior.

As the limo drove to the restaurant, you set down your glass and turned a bit towards the salesman, facing away from In-ho. “It’s weird to see you without the briefcase,” you chuckled.

He smiled. “It’s weird to see you without the mask… and everything else,” he replied, looking at your dress. You laughed in response, reaching forward to playfully push his arm.

In-ho scoffed softly to himself, something the salesman didn’t pick up on but you did. You turned around slightly, making eye contact. He stared intensely at you, you could see the irritation all over his face. You wanted to smirk but tried your best to keep it in. 

You reached for your champagne glass and gave him the most innocent looking face. “Do you want some champagne?” you asked before sipping from your glass, never breaking eye contact.

He stared at you intensely for a few moments before looking away, scoffing again. “No.”

You slowly turned back towards the salesman, who raised his eyebrows, sensing the bad attitude from In-ho. You chuckled to yourself and gave him a sweet smile, keeping up the facade. You continued to make flirty small talk as the three of you made your way to the restaurant.

Upon arriving, the three of you met with Il-nam and were seated. You sat across from In-ho, getting a dangerously good view of him. He glanced at you briefly, taking your breath away, and again you had to compose yourself before you ruined your plan.

The dinner went by pleasantly overall, and you could tell you were getting under In-ho’s skin. Anytime you laughed or gave the salesman a flirty look, you’d glance at In-ho, who was always boring his eyes into you. He knew what game you were playing, but he was surprised nonetheless. You’d even caught him rolling his eyes a couple times.

Once the dinner was over, Il-nam politely said goodbye while the three of you waited for the limo to pick you up again. As you stood there, you shivered a bit in the cold air. The salesman noticed and shrugged off his coat.

“Here, you’re shivering.” He gently laid the coat across your shoulders.

You gave him a sweet smile, but felt a little awkward. You weren’t really planning on going further with this act, yet In-ho still hadn’t done anything about it. Maybe it wasn’t worth it…

You were pulled out of your thoughts by In-ho stepping closer to you, leaning to whisper in your ear. “Are you trying to upset me?”

His words sent shivers down your spine. You turned to him slightly. “Is it working?” you said innocently, knowing it was bothering him.

He scoffed and looked away, seemingly pondering your words. The salesman gave you a weird look, bringing back the awkward feeling from before. Almost as if In-ho could sense this, he snatched the coat from your shoulders and handed it to the salesman.

“They’re taking too long. I’ll take her home.”

The salesman slowly took the coat, dismayed, and looked at you for confirmation. You looked at In-ho for a second, shocked, but quickly turned to the salesman and nodded. In-ho grabbed your wrist and you began walking away with him. The salesman, however, wouldn’t let you get away that easily.

“Hey!” He quickly walked towards you and grabbed your shoulder, gently turning you around. “I can take you home.”

You gave him a polite smile and shook your head. “That’s alright.” You turned around and wrapped your arm around In-ho’s arm, continuing to walk.

He scoffed, giving you a confused look. “So… that’s it?”

You stopped, and In-ho looked at you annoyed. You turned around again, looking down, just a little ashamed at your behavior, but you smirked nonetheless. “That’s it.” You gave him one last look and turned around again.

As you walked away, you heard the salesman scoff, “Fucking slut.”

This time In-ho was the one to stop and turn around. “Excuse me?”

The salesman laughed. “You’ve seen the way she’s been acting tonight.”

In-ho smirked. “Yes. I have.” He stepped in front of you. “Who do you think she was doing that for? You?”

The salesman scowled, looking away, silent.

In-ho scoffed. “Don’t be so foolish.”

He turned around and you finally walked away together without any interruptions. You made your way to the train and got on, sitting next to each other. Luckily it was empty as it was late at night.

After several moments of silence, you sighed. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

You looked at him, noticing a hardened, stoic expression on his face. “So now you want to talk to me?”

He looked away. “I could say the same.”

“I didn’t ignore you.”

“Oh, I’m very much aware.” He glanced at you briefly.

“I had to get your attention somehow.”

He scoffed and turned towards you, eyeing you before responding. “You’ve had my attention.”

You blushed at his words, but composed yourself. “Don’t act like you didn’t ignore me yesterday.”

In-ho sighed, crossing his arms. “You couldn’t give me just one day to get my thoughts together?”

“You couldn’t just acknowledge me?”

“So because I didn’t acknowledge you, you had to act like a whore in front of that man?”

You looked at him, stunned. “If I’m not yours, then what does it matter to you?”

He stared at you for a few moments, seemingly holding back a smile. “Is that it? Do you want to be mine?”

Inside you were going crazy, but you tried your best to keep your cool, rolling your eyes. “Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“Watch it,” he said, with a serious tone now.

You glared at him. “With the way you’re acting, I should’ve stayed with him.”

He frowned, leaning in and speaking low. “With the way you’re acting, I should just claim you as mine, right here, hmm? Is that what you want?”

Your face flushed red instantly, and you gave him an innocent look, leaning in. “Does that mean you’ll give me what I want?”

You could tell you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leaning in to kiss your neck and whisper in your ear. “Only if you’re good.”

You pouted. “Haven’t I been good?”

He chuckled. “Far from it.”

You smirked and turned away from him. “You seem to be enjoying it well enough.”

“You think I enjoyed watching you throw yourself at him?”

“And now I’m going home with you. Isn’t that a good thing?”

He paused for a moment. “I would’ve taken you home regardless.”

You turned to him, his features soft now, his lips almost pouting. You realized he might be genuinely hurt at your actions, though he’d never admit it. For a moment, you felt bad for him. You rested your hand on his cheek and gave him a soft kiss.

You looked at him dejectedly. “What was I supposed to think after you treated me like that?”

He leaned into your hand, sighing, but stayed silent.

You sighed, removing your hand and looking down. “I thought you regretted it.”

In-ho brought his hand to your face, just as you had just done, and kissed you, rougher this time. He pulled back and looked at you with fierce sincerity.

“Never. I would never regret that.”

As you stared at him, your heart was filled with unexplainable emotions, but you felt content at his admission. Before you could get further caught up in the moment, the train arrived at your stop.

In-ho sighed and stood up, reaching his hand towards you. “Let’s go.”

~~~

You entered In-ho’s apartment with him, a decent one bedroom space, but not quite indicative of the money he actually owned. You took a look around for a moment before In-ho turned you around to face him, immediately kissing you. You welcomed the sudden closeness again and wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as you continued.

In-ho ran his hands along your back and sides, pulling you close to him. His hands gave you goosebumps all over your skin, your senses begging for more of him. You pulled on the collar of his coat, softly whining.

He pulled away, bringing his hand to your face. “What is it?” he said as he ran his thumb along your pouting lips.

You whined and pulled at his coat again while taking his thumb into your mouth, sucking lightly. His eyes darkened and he grabbed your face with both hands, removing his thumb and kissing you roughly, his tongue immediately dominating your own. You moaned softly and ran your hands along his chest desperately.

In-ho pulled away, slightly grinning. “You’re so needy.” He shrugged off his coat, letting it fall to the ground. You leaned in for another kiss as he picked you up, your legs wrapping around him. 

As he carried you to his bedroom, you kissed down to his neck, breathlessly whispering, “I need you.”

He laid you on your back on his bed, hovering over you and eyeing you skeptically. “Really? To me it looks like you’d let just any handsome man touch you like this.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, pulling him in for a kiss. “No. Only you.”

He slightly chuckled, gently caressing your face and holding your jaw. “You know I would have lost it if he touched you.”

“Really? To me it looks like you would’ve let him do whatever he wanted to me.”

He eyed you darkly and held your jaw tighter, huffing. “I don’t care what you think… No one else touches you like this.” He leaned forward to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over. You practically melted under his touch, grasping desperately at his shoulders while softly moaning, too overwhelmed to say anything.

He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. “Fuck… come here.” He pulled your dress up off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear. His eyes lingered on your form before he continued ravaging your neck. His hands roamed your sides, down to your ass and thighs, as you leaned forward on his shoulders. Your moans filled his ears as you slowly lost control of yourself, your hips starting to grind on his growing bulge beneath you. Your movements just encouraged him further and he started biting your neck.

“In-ho, you’re going to leave marks,” you said breathlessly as you pulled away.

“Good. Everyone should know you’re mine.” He leaned forward to your neck again and thrusted forward, pressing his erection against you. You moaned and let him take over, ignoring the fact that you were probably going to wake up with bruises all over your neck. In fact, the thought of it sent shivers throughout your core.

You continued grinding on him and In-ho brought both of his hands to your ass, pressing you even harder on him, guiding the movement of your hips. At this point, you were completely lost in your movements, feeling like you could orgasm just from this. Your pussy was soaked, and you could feel the wetness seeping onto his pants. 

“Fuck, In-ho, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he huffed into your neck. “I feel you making a mess on me, darling.”

You moaned and In-ho pushed you backwards, inspecting your underwear and his pants. “Fuck… look at you.” He ran his hands along your thighs and over your underwear, gently caressing your swollen pussy, your wetness sticky on his fingers.

You cried out, inadvertently grinding on his fingers as he touched you. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure, you just wanted to be fucked. In-ho was captivated by your disheveled state and flushed cheeks. He held himself up on one arm, and with the other pushed your underwear to the side, revealing your soaked pussy. 

“So fucking wet… all for me,” he mumbled as he spread his fingers, covering them in your wetness. He began to insert two fingers at your entrance, intently watching your face as he pushed them all the way in.

You cried out in pleasure and relief at finally having him inside you, at least part of him. His fingers felt divine inside of your cunt, adding a whole new layer of pleasure. He began to pump his fingers in and out, the sensation causing you to almost collapse. You held yourself with your arms behind you, holding on to In-ho’s legs. 

He began to fuck you furiously with his fingers, the feeling of his hand slapping against your clit almost sending you to orgasm right then. In-ho leaned forward and pulled you in close with his other arm as his fingers thrust up into you, kissing you roughly. He pulled your bra up and over your raised arms, not bothering to undo it. His mouth immediately went to one of your breasts, kissing and sucking with as much fervor as his fingers were fucking you. You held on tightly to his shoulders for support, your legs practically giving out beneath you as you moaned uncontrollably.

You pulled him from your breasts and kissed him roughly. “Please,” you panted, “I need you. Right now.”

You frantically began unbuttoning his shirt as he leaned backwards, undoing his pants and shoving them down with his underwear, his cock springing out beneath you. He shrugged his shirt off and guided his cock to your entrance, spreading the tip around your soaked slit. In another world he knew he would probably have taken more time with you, would have maybe been a little more romantic about it all, instead of frantically fucking you like this now. But this is exactly what you both wanted and needed at that moment. After him pining for you for all this time, after you desperately trying to get his attention, you both are finally getting what you wanted.

“Come here,” he said as he pulled you close to him, kissing you roughly as he slowly thrust up into you. Your legs shuddered at the feeling of his cock inside of you, stretching your walls as you adjusted to him. In-ho groaned loudly at the feeling of your cunt around him, your warmth sending goosebumps all over his body. You held on to his shoulders as he started to fuck into you quickly, moaning into his neck.

Immediately you felt your orgasm approaching, as if there was pressure building inside of you just dying to be released. Every stroke of his cock inside of you sent your mind into a frenzy. You felt your mind almost go blank as he fucked you furiously.

“In-ho… fuck, your cock feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he huffed, “you like getting fucked like this?”

“Yes, fuck yes, this is exactly what I wanted,” you cried.

“You wanted to be fucked, huh? By who?” He thrust even harder into you, your moans encouraging him further.

“Only by you. Only you.”

“Yes… you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck I’m all yours,” you cried as you couldn’t think of anything else to say, your orgasm almost approaching.

In-ho roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “No one else can fuck you like this. No one else gets you like I do.” 

You slowly nodded, moaning, your face twisted in pleasure. “No one else.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, his hands roughly holding onto your hips. “You’re gonna make me cum looking like that, darling.”

You mewled at his words. “I think I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

In-ho started thrusting faster up into you. “Cum on my cock, darling.”

You came immediately at his words, your pussy clenching on his cock intensely, every stroke sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. You moaned loudly, unable to control anything anymore. You shook above him as your orgasm rocked your body, satisfaction overwhelming you. As you came down from your high, In-ho continued to thrust into you. You could tell he was close. You kissed him roughly.

“Cum in me.”

He groaned and grabbed your face roughly before pushing you on your back. He pushed your legs apart from the knees and quickly began thrusting into you again, his pace brutal. Though you’d just orgasmed, seeing In-ho like this sparked something more inside of you.

“I’m gonna cum so fucking much in you. So fucking much into your perfect little pussy.” He looked at you and held your face roughly. “Who’s pussy is this?”

You whined beneath him. “Yours, it’s all yours.”

He closed his eyes in pleasure, mouth open, his hips beginning to stutter in their thrusts. He grabbed one of your hands and brought it to your pussy. “Touch yourself,” he huffed.

You began to circle your clit with your fingers, immediately feeling a new wave of pleasure come over you. You moaned loudly and felt your pussy clench on him, causing him to moan with you. He leaned forward and wrapped one of his hands around your throat.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock again. You’re gonna watch me cum inside you and then you’re gonna cum again.”

You mewled at his words, your body writhing under him. He moved his hand from your throat to the back of your head, pushing it down and forcing you to watch his cock thrust into you. The sight of it almost made you cum right then.

In-ho groaned loudly, thrusts stuttering again into slower, harder ones. “Fuck, look at what you do to me, I’m fucking cumming.” His moans filled your ears as you watched him thrust into you, filling your cunt with his hot cum, his cock throbbing inside of your sensitive cunt. You continued rubbing your clit and saw his cum spill out of you as he continued thrusting, coating your pussy and his cock, sending you over the edge immediately. You cried out beneath him and came as he was still coming down from his high, your pussy clenching on him and prolonging his own orgasm. He held you close as you shuddered beneath him, pleasure overwhelming your body yet again. 

As you both calmed down, In-ho laid on his side next to you and pulled you close to him, kissing your forehead. You nestled your head next to his neck, absolutely spent. He wrapped his arms around you, gently rubbing your back.

You noticed the small bandage on his gunshot wound, something you’d completely forgotten about in the heat of the moment. “Is it okay?” you asked as you inspected it.

In-ho smiled softly. “Of course. You did a good job.”

You smiled back and laid your head down again. In-ho ran his hand gently along your neck, inspecting the bruises. Your skin felt raw under his touch, and you noticed his pleased expression. 

“Is it bad?”

He chuckled. “Of course not. You’re covered in my marks… that’s a good thing.” He leaned down to kiss you softly.

You smiled, taking in all of his features up close, and shivered. “I’m cold,” you whispered as you cuddled closer to his warmth.

Instead of pulling the blankets over you, In-ho stood up and scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. “Let’s get cleaned up and then go to sleep.”

You pouted, resting your head on his shoulder. “But I’m tired.”

“Shh, just wait.” He set you on the counter and went to turn the shower on. You turned around and inspected yourself in the mirror, shocked at your disheveled and bruised state. The bruises spread from your neck down to your chest, evidence of In-ho’s desire for you peppered across your skin.

In-ho saw you watching yourself in the mirror and stood next to you. You turned to him, wrapping your arms around him. “Now when he sees me, he’ll know I’m yours.”

In-ho rolled his eyes. “You won’t see him.”

You looked at him with a fake innocent expression. “Why not?”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

You pouted, looking away, silent.

“If you’re trying to upset me again, it won’t work.”

You smirked. “Well it worked last time, and look what that got me.”

In-ho scoffed and slightly smiled. “You don’t have to wonder now. You’re mine,” he said before kissing you softly and whispering, “So if I see you act like that again, it won’t be so easy to get what you want next time.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

He laughed and led you to the shower, both of you helping each other. In-ho was incredibly attentive to you, making your heart flutter. When you were finished and dried off, you crawled back in bed together, exhaustion overtaking you.

You cuddled next to In-ho under the warm covers. “Why didn’t we do this a long time ago?”

He caressed your face, sighing, clearly exhausted as well. “I don’t know. I was too cowardly to do something about it. I’m stupid.”

You laughed, playfully shoving him. “I knew you liked me.”

He smiled and kissed you. “That’s an understatement.”

You sighed contentedly, thinking about all the time you’ve spent together. You’d always felt alone, even working alongside In-ho, but now you had a companion. Someone to lean on and someone to support. The more you thought about it, the more you wondered about the intruder.

“In-ho… you know you can tell me anything. I’m here for you.” You gently touched his shoulder wound, indicating what you were talking about.

His face slightly dropped and he sighed. “I know.” He kissed you. “Thank you.”

You smiled and roughly pulled him close to you. “You're mine too, you know.”

In-ho smiled and rested his head above yours, holding you tight. Despite everything that had happened to him in the past couple days, he felt genuinely happy, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“I know. I always have been.”

The Cannibal Prince

Pairing: Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Includes: nipple play, kissing, non-consensual vampire turning (Including a kiss), biting, side character death

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: You marry Prince Aemond, and he reveals another Targaryen wedding tradition that many aren't privy to.

It was fortunately windy at Dragonstone — a delightful contrast to that of King’s Landing.

You wore one of your Dornish gowns, showing off quite a bit of your skin. You hadn’t really gotten into the fashion at King’s Landing. It was so terribly hot there and your gowns from back home gave you a delightful reprieve.

You stood outside. You had first come out to watch the waves lick at the big rocks, but your thoughts soon drifted off to Aemond Targaryen — Your betrothed.

You had brief interactions with the man. Once, when you first arrived at King’s Landing. You had eaten dinner with Prince Aemond, along with the rest of his family. It had been a tense first meeting for you. Queen Alicent was the one carrying the conversation, with Otto asking questions about Dorne here and there.

Though you were not Dornish royalty like the Martell’s, your house is a great one.

You had noticed Queen Alicent lowering her gaze to your dress a few times over dinner before looking back at you with a fake smile. You think she didn’t like your dress.

Aegon, though, scared you. He would not take his eyes off of you during the feast and would speak of how you were too pretty for his cripple brother. You noticed that Prince Aemond had tensed at that, his fingers tightening around his cutlery. You hadn’t spoken out in defense of Aemond — just gave Aegon a faux smile, hoping he didn’t notice how uncomfortable you were. You think he did.

You had heard rumors about the Targaryens. Of how their serving girls were disappearing at an alarming rate, about Prince Aegon’s sexual debauchery, that your betrothed was not missing an eye at all, and that when he had his eye cut out, it had come back! That you did not believe, it simply wasn’t possible.

You shivered from the cold Dragonstone air, and like he knew you were thinking of him, a voice spoke out from behind you. “Cold, My Lady?”

You turned around, your golden dress moving with you. There stood Aemond Targaryen, a few feet away from you. His hands were clasped behind his back and his long white hair looked slightly unkempt because of the winds.

You bowed, before looking back up at him. “Nothing I can’t handle, My Prince.”

You were proven wrong as the wind beat at you, forcing you to squint.

Aemond wrinkled his nose, like he had smelt something he didn’t like before getting his expression under control and clenching his jaw.

“It is getting quite late, betrothed. Would you allow me the honor of walking you back to your chambers?” Aemond asked.

Your eyes widen slightly at the request, but you nod anyway. “Of course, My Prince.”

You both walked back into the Castle, a quiet overtaking you both. You had hoped Aemond would have offered you his arm, but he hadn’t, and this was the longest time you two had spent together, so you contented yourself with that.

Your eyes gazed at all the dragon furniture and you were reminded of Princess Rhaenyra.

You had been surprised when you found out that you’d be marrying Aemond here, as you had heard that Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone because she couldn’t stand the Hightowers and their children anymore. Perhaps she had a change of mind.

You and Aemond reached your chamber door. There were dragons carved into the wood, their long, lithe bodies stretched out on it.

You opened the door and stepped in, turning to look at Aemond. “Would you like to come in, My Prince?” It was a courtesy, of course. If you and your betrothed were both caught alone together, it would be quite the scandal.

Aemond looked at you, scrutinizing your body as his eyes traveled down the length of your body. He stared at the exposed area of your neck before forcing himself to look back at you, his jaw ticking.

“Perhaps after our marriage ceremony.” With that, Aemond gave a curt bow, mumbling “My Lady,” before turning around and leaving — presumably to his own chambers.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and shut the door. You hadn’t expected Aemond to say such a thing — maybe his brother, but not him!

Your handmaidens helped you get dressed for bed and you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your stomach.

As you lay in bed, listening to the sound of the sea — you had insisted to keep the shutters of the window nearest your bed open and one of your handmaidens reluctantly did so, lecturing you about how it would be a terrible thing if you got sick the night before your wedding — your thoughts drifted back to Aemond. You wish he had come into your chambers.

The next morning, you had awoken to terrible news. One of your handmaidens — Aimya — was dead. Her corpse was found in one of the halls. Your handmaidens said that Otto Hightower claimed that given the girl’s pale skin, she must have picked up a sickness. They weren’t allowed to see the body and had no confirmation that this was true.

You had hoped the marriage ceremony would be canceled because of this, but of course, nobody cared for the death of a random dornish girl. Nobody except for you and the other handmaidens.

Over the years, you had all become very close to each other, and her death was like a ship wrecking when it was close to land. The night before your wedding! If you didn’t know any better, you would have taken her death as a warning.

Your handmaiden — Brise, a woman a few years older than you with a sharp face — leads you to your vanity and has you strip out of your nightgown. Your other handmaiden — Miana, a young girl with rosy cheeks — untangling your hair with a shaky hand as you sat atop your vanity stool, naked and shivering.

Brise shut the window before grabbing your wedding robes. After Miana was done, you stood up, facing the older woman. She held the traditional Targaryen wedding robes.

How disappointing. You had always thought your wedding would be an extravagant thing, but it seems not.

“Aimya seemed fine. I-I didn’t think…” Miana broke out into a sob.

Brise shook her head as she helped you into your clothing. “I don’t trust these Targaryens,” she said the name with such disdain that you couldn’t help but look at her surprised.

“That is my betrothed’s family you are speaking about,” you say as Brise finishes tying the front of the robe.

Miana grabbed the headpiece, but was shaking so much that Brise grabbed it out of the young girl's hands and placed it atop your head instead.

“My apologies, My Lady.” But you knew Brise, and you knew she wasn’t sorry at all. You decide not to dwell on it and begin your trip out of the castle.

You stand face to face with Aemond, your expression one of pain as he cuts into your palm. You bite into your covered bottom lip to silence any sound of pain that would try to leave you.

Aemond’s own hand is bloody, as you had cut into it first and you can feel it on your palm as you press it against his. The blood doesn’t do much to hide the lack of warmth in his body, but you brush it off to it just being a reaction to the cold of the Island that is Dragonstone.

An older man wraps a cloth around your hands and you watch as your blood — now mixed with Aemond’s — drips into the cup. You hear the man say some words in Valyrian, but you don’t understand any of it.

Soon, you are drinking out of the chalice. You take a small sip, the heavy taste of copper now on your tongue. You hand it over to Aemond, and he holds your gaze as he drinks the rest of your shared blood.

Then, you both kiss. It’s a quick thing, and you are aware of the eyes of Aemond’s family watching you.

Hours later, you are in Aemond’s chambers. You suppose you’ll be returning to King's Landing very soon.

You sit on the edge of his bed, anxiously fiddling with your fingers as Aemond walks over to you.

Gently, he takes off your headpiece and places it on the side table. Using one cold finger, Aemond places it under your chin, forcing you to look into his purple eye.

You’re captivated. You are sure you will never in your lifetime see anyone that looks like Aemond. Sure, they others have purple eyes, and white hair. But Aemond is unique, with his sharp features, and one eye.

“There is no need to be nervous,” Aemond reassured you. His fingers trail down your neck, to your pulse, gently pressing them there. “Wife.”

You watch as Aemond takes in a sharp breath at the feeling of you, and he quickly pulls his hand away.

Your husband sits down on the bed next to you.

“We need not do this tonight if you don’t wish for it,” he says, surprising you.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you speak, “No.. I want to, Husband.”

Aemond lets out a harsh breath out of his nose and nods. “Very well.”

Gently, Aemond reached out, cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. He presses his lips to yours, and for some reason he still tastes of copper.

His hands find their way to the ties of your robe and undo them. He pulls away from your lips and pushes down your clothing, leaving it on the floor.

Aemond looks down at you, and you feel your nipples harden very quickly.

Gently, Aemond pushes you down on the bed, so that you are laying with your back flat against it, your head resting on one of the soft pillows.

He rests one of his hands on your hips, and the other — the scarred one — trails down to your breasts. Aemond presses his palm atop the left side of your chest, almost like he’s trying to feel your heartbeat. When he’s satisfied, Aemond brings his fingers to your nipples. He tugs on your nub and you let out a soft gasp.

His attention is instantly brought back to your mouth and he presses his lips to yours. It’s very different from your first kiss when you were getting married. This one is rough, like he’s trying to consume you.

His fingers dig into your breast — so much so that it’s starting to hurt. You let out a small mewl, and Aemond instantly lets go of your lips and breast.

Slowly, Aemond kisses down your chest, and stomach, until he is at your hips.

Aemond undos the ties of his own robes, and drops the garment onto the floor.

He spreads your legs and presses a small kiss to your inner thigh, “So pretty.”

You let out a small, pleased, sigh. “Husband..”

Aemond brings his lips back to your thighs, and brushes his lips against them. Using his cold hands, Aemond holds onto your hips, pressing them down to the mattress. You shiver at his touch, and when he licks at your thigh, you feel small tingles spread through your body.

Your eyes flutter shut, and that’s when you feel it. Something sharp presses into you and your eyes shoot open. You wriggle in Aemond’s grip, but feel his pale hands pin you down. All you can see is the white of his head as you look down at him.

You let out a small cry, confused. “A-Aemond.. What are you…!”

Aemond’s lips finally release the hold they had on your thigh, and when he looks up at you, your eyes land on his bloody mouth.

Before you can even do anything, Aemond lets go of your hips and instead crawls over you, his lithe frame atop of you. Using one hand, Aemond grabs ahold of your wrists and pins them over your head. His other hand grabs your jaw and pushes it to the side, revealing your neck.

Aemond presses his nose to your neck, taking in your scent. His eyes flutter shut and you hiss in pain as he bites into your flesh.

Your legs kick at Aemond, but it doesn’t deter him.

Soon enough, you run out of energy and cease your struggling. You quiver under Aemond, and tears run down your cheeks.

Just when you’re on the brink of death, Aemond pulls away, pressing a wet kiss to the area he just bit.

Aemond lets go of your wrists, but still holds onto your jaw, though his grip has loosened.

Your eyes flutter open, your vision blurry.

Aemond bites into his own wrist, sucking up a considerable amount of blood, before pulling away.

Aemond presses his lips to yours, and forces you to drink in the mix of your’s and Aemond’s blood. Some blood escapes you and Aemond’s mouth and trickles down your cheeks.

Aemond pulls away after what feels like an eternity. You take in big gulps of air, your lungs burning.

A warmth runs through your body before being replaced with a coldness. It feels like you're freezing. Aemond kisses at your tears before pressing his lips to your bloody cheeks. He coos against them, feeling their warmth turn cool, “I know this is now what you were expecting, wife, but that was not the end. Perhaps…” he trails off.  Aemond pulls away, letting go of your wrists. His eye looks down at your naked body, and despite it all, you feel a heat spreading through you. “After our marriage ceremony.”

a/n: Wrote this in celebration for season 2 of hotd, though this was written a few days before it came out! divider creds: @saradika

Key:

F/F=Favorite Food

"Is that a dead body?" Kirishima asked firefly as he recalled you promising not to bring your deceased 'clients' back to the house

"maybeeee?" You said innocently as if you hadn't been dragging the corpse of a 140 pounds man through your shared house

"that is a dead body, I can see it right in front of me"

"uhhhh, I'll have it clean before dinner" you swore hoping your partner would let it slide

Relief flooded your system as he sighed again and waved you off, disappointment flashing across his face as he continued on his day

"Dinner should be done in 20"

"yes sir" you playfully saluted the pro hero before continuing to drag the corpse into the basement

-15 Minutes Later

"Kiri! I got everything cleaned up!" You called as you trenched up the stairs, no signs of your previous activities present.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Your favorite redhead shouted

"Everything's cleaned up" you said as you perched on the counter next to him as he cooked F/F

"That's good" he smiled softly, not exactly meeting your eyes, a pang of guilt hit, your gaze gluing itself to the floor.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled still not looking up, knowing you had broken your promise.

"For what?" He asked coming to stand between your legs. "For bringing another body home" you clarified as he gripped your face softly in his hands.

"It's alright, I'm not mad, as long as it's all cleaned up" he forgave as he kissed your forehead softly.

Once again, despite the decapitated head in your basement, everything was at piece again.

Been thinking about Yandere Keigo...

TW: Kidnapping, murder, noncon, isolation, stalking, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome

Reader has gender neutral pronouns with afab body

Keigo Takami isn't the worst yandere, lucky you. When you pique his interest, he'll try to be nice about it. He'll approach you and make a bit of small talk, before asking you out.

Say yes? Pefect! He'll give you the time of your life!

Say no? Oh... That's fine! But please be wary, Keigo isn't giving up so easily.

If you refuse, well, coincidentally your boyfriend, if you have one, has been murdered the next day! Oh my god! No boyfriend? It's your best friend. And guess who's at your door? Keigo! Here to comfort you over the loss.

How did he know? He hacked into your social media Well he looked at the victim's phone to get some ID, and his lockscreen was a picture of you and him.

Wait, how do you know where I live? He followed you home the day you rejected him He was on patrol and saw you through the window.

He'll be there for you, comforting you, rubbing your back gently as you cry into his chest and soak the fabric. All while you don't see the grin on his face.

Odds are you'll probably develop a close friendship. Visits from Keigo happen often, and he'll try to win over your affection with gifts. He stalks you to find out what things you like He's just so considerate!

Soon he'll ask you out again, "We've gotten to know each other a lot better, now, so I hope you wouldn't mind dinner at my place?" Please accept the offer. Keigo doesn't want to be yandere, he really doesn't! He just wants a nice, normal relationship.

But if all else fails, yes, he will kidnap you.

Like I said before, he definitely isn't the worst yandere to be stuck with. No chains, no restraints. He'll let you wander around his penthouse to your heart's content! Yes, you heard me right. He keeps you in his penthouse. Pretty risky. But not to worry, he'll just threaten you with his quirk. One feather on your neck, while he stares down at you with sharp, narrowed eyes, telling you that you better keep quiet. And ta-da, guess who listens? Wouldn't want to worry the rest of the apartment complex, now, would we?

In terms of punishments, he doesn't really do those. He has no need for them. His door has six locks, which he explained in great detail that it was to keep the paparazzi out. And don't even try to escape through the window, unless you feel like falling 40 feet to your death. If you manage to really piss him off though, he'll lock you up in his master bedroom with no entertainment. No books, no TV, nothing. He'll give you food and water, but not much. Oh and please don't eat it all, he's not letting you out for bathroom breaks, either.

Keigo will keep you isolated until he's convinced you've learned your lesson (it's fine he can sleep on the couch). Minimum time to be locked up is two days, maximum is a week. It may sound like a short time, but really, all you can do is just lay around and think about your actions, so it'll feel like a lifetime.

He's sweet. He likes spoiling you. Giving you expensive gifts, he even trusts you to use your phone as long as he gets to look through it at the end of the day.

He's kinky, too. He loves oral more than he actually likes fucking you. You're so fucking hot when you're on your knees, sucking him off, milking his cock for his cum. And don't get me started on the way you squirm and moan as he sucks on your clit, two fingers inside you.

BDSM, CNC, roleplay, everything is on the table for him. Expect him to switch in up in the bedroom every now and then. Oh, you might like to know that he's a switch. Prefers being dominant but he'd be down to let you peg him.

But the real problem comes when spring arrives. When Keigo starts rutting. He would never force himself on you, until he's in heat. If you have an animal based quirk? Good! You two can be in heat together! Any other quirk, or quirkless? Eh... Just play along and be a good little birdie. Because mark my words, hide all you want, Keigo will find you. Don't even scream either, he'll keep his sharpest feathers right next to your jugular, a looming threat as he rapes your pussy, breeding you nice and full.

When you develop Stockholm syndrome, he'll start letting you have more freedom. Quick walks around the city, late night flights over the beach, he may even let you visit his agency.

But your relationship will never be made public. He will say he has a partner, but will never reveal your identity, same goes for your children when you have them. He doesn't want you to be targeted by villains, or even worse, the press finds out about the kidnapping.

Over all, Keigo Takami is a semi-normal yandere. He'll be good to you, if you're good to him in return.

Author's Note: I'd choose Shigaraki in a heartbeat but I've been having a Keigo brain rot and I can't get him out of my head. Doesn't help that I purchased volume 27, either. I'd gladly trade places with Twice, goddamn.

Jackson's Diary: Oneshot: Inspired by chapter 131-132: Jackson centric: Angst: Hurt no comfort: No beta we die like exer: Jaxer(?): Could be read as platonic

And My Blood Will Freeze For You

Jackson has always been used to the cold, ever since his mother died alongside the emptiness he always felt winter had made a home in his heart.

Today was different, today the usually quiet winter raged a storm. He can feel the frost spreading from his ribcage and through the rest of his body ever so patient yet quick, his blood turning into icicles that would cut his skin from the inside to make it's way outside of his body leaving a bloody mess in the painful process.

The rain was pouring outside, the sound of each drop like a song that rhythm with his storm; quiet and almost unheard to the outsiders yet rining in his ears loud enough he can drown in it, and there will be nobody to save him.

Nobody to reach their hand to him, to chase him down a hallway or constantly ask him if he's feeling ok even though he won't talk and he would deserve it

He would deserve drowning for the entire night because he fucked up and hurt Exer

Jackson grinds his teeth and without even knowing it, soft tears start forming in his eyes.

Jackson had spent a long time wishing that he could go back in time to his childhood and do something anything to save his mother, now he wishes more than anything that if only he could go back and change the results of what had happened for Exer.

His mind scrambled at all the things he could've done. If only he never picked up that dairy. If only he never reached out to Exer again. If only he had told the truth. If only he never went to the forest earlier today. If only he ran after David instead,

(If only he never warned David about that rock. A cruel part in him whispers)

Jackson pushes the possibilities away, now only focusing on replaying the events in his head again and again and again and again until the scenes crash together and he can see himself in Exer's place.

He focuses his thoughts on that imagine, his cold blood spilling out. His body laying beneath the rock, his breath shallow as he breathes out cold smoke. Maybe if he tries hard enough he could believe that this is what had happened, that he's the one in the hospital bed and Exer is waiting out with Pamela and David,

Because that's what should have been. That's the reality they should be living in, not the real one he's forced to face right now.

He should've been the one hurt, not Exer. Never Exer

And the worst part is that this won't be the last of it.

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THAT'S ALL FOLKS!

Keep dreaming!

Yooo

Guess who got really into Oneshot

This is only the beginning

Should I do the rest of them

Mirror Hans One-Shot

Cause why not?

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“Doesn't it bother you?” Anna choked? “To live life and not feel anything that’s truly your own?”

The shackled form of Hans regarded her sympathetically, or rather, Anna mentally corrected herself, empathetically.

“Only when I’m with someone like you.”

“Of course, “She responded biting her lip to futility try and hold back the salty water in her eyes, “Because I want you to be bothered.”

Hans closed his eyes to deal with some unseen internal turmoil and nodded. The emotions that played across Hans' face seemed so genuine Anna desperately thought to herself. But in truth they were her feelings, and her desires, and her fears that he was only borrowing.

“I hate this!” Anna sobbed and the details of Hans’ face blurred together. “I wanted you to be the villain, I wanted you to be irredeemable, but everything that happened was my fault.”

Hans reached out to Anna, but the shackles stopped him short, and he could only watch as Anna’s form shuddered from her stuttered breath and tears. “It’s not your fault.” He whispered. Stepping back and lifting his hand up, Hans cupped the air imagining that he was holding Anna's cheek and wiping away her tears.

“It’s no one’s fault.” He said softly and two tears of his own trailed down his face.

Anna choked at his words. Unable to bear his company any longer, Princess Anna sprinted from the cold stone cell.

The solitary prince watched her go and his heart felt ripped and torn.

The feeling, though, soon started to fall away. Starting at the edges, the heartache and sorrow fell into numbness. The unhappy lines on his face smoothed themselves out into a blank canvas and the person that Anna had spoken to was no longer there.

The man….no, the mechanism seated itself. It had nothing more to think or do now that it was alone. 

And the trails that the two tears had left on its face were nearly dry. 

I oddly find this uplifting. Like- You only have one shot at life so go on and live it! Make mistakes, improve from your mistakes, do things you’ve always wanted to.

Gives aggressive positivity vibes as well, if you read it that way, which I adore. Also, this is apparently a screenshot from an indie game. I hope to try it out someday.

Sunset Ocean || Eine Alea Aquarius FF

Der Sonnenuntergang war das erste, die Umrisse des Bootes, der Crusis, waren das zweite und Tess, die an der Reling saß war das letzte. Das war was Kit sah, als sie die kleine Treppe, die unter Deck führte, her hoch lief. Sie lächelte. Ihre Freundin schaute auf das Meer, das vor ihr Lag, ihre Beine baumelten zwischen den Stäben des Gitters der Reling. Kit schaute kurz zu Alea, die gerade das Boot steuerte. Alea winkte ihr zu. Ben und Sammy hatten den Tag über viel erledigen müssen und Alea war sich extra früh schlafen gegangen, um Sammy von der Nachmittagsschicht abzulösen und die Nacht durchzumachen. Ben war damit einverstanden gewesen, weil das Meer am Abend ruhig ausgesehen hatte. Die Wetterausichten schienen das zu bestätigen. Lennox hatte darauf bestanden, auch früher schlafen zu gehen, weil er müde war. Später würde er Alea sicher Gesellschaft leisten.

Leise schlich sich Kit an Tess heran. Das funktionierte nur mäßig gut, die Planken knarzten zu sehr. Tess Kopf schwang herum. Kit lächelte. Tess lächelte zurück. Kit bog sich vor. "Kann ich mich setzten?" Erst jetzt bemerkte sie, dass sich Tess auf ihr Akkordeon stützte. Sie musste vorher geübt haben. Ihre Freundin lachte kurz auf, zog ein Kissen von der Sitzbank und klopfte dann neben sich auf die Planken auf das Kissen. "Klar" Kit setzte sich langsam. Einige Minuten angenehmer Stille folgten in denen sie einfach nebeneinander saßen. Tess brach die Stille leise, "Das Meer ist bei Sonnenuntergängen immer so anders. Es fühlt sich irgendwie wärmer an, obwohl die Nacht eigentlich kalt ist." Kit nickte. "Sonnenuntergänge fühlen sich an wie ein Portal in eine andere Welt. Vom Warmen Tag in die kühle Nacht." Sie legte ihren Kopf aus Tess Schulter. "Fühlt sich aber seltsam gut dafür an, nicht?" Kit fühlte Tess Stimme an ihrem Kopf perfekt im Einklang mit den leisen Wellen, die gegen das Boot klatschten.

"Spielst du ein bisschen?" Kit zeigte auf das Akkordeon, das Tess immer noch auf dem Schoss hatte. Akkordeons waren nicht unbedingt was man unter "konventionell Romantisch", "passt gut zu Meeresrauschen" oder "entspannend" beschreiben würde. Aber Tess schien einen Weg gefunden zu haben, dass es genau das war. Tess nickte. Kit lag zwar noch etwas zu sehr auf ihr, um ihre Arme richtig bewegen zu können, aber Kit merkte das schnell genug, um den Moment nicht zu ruinieren. Und Tess spielte. Und Kit hörte ihr zu. Sie fand sich in Tag, oder ehr Abendträumen, wieder. Als Tess langsame aufhörte, legte Kit ihren Kopf wieder auf Tess Schulter.

"Denkst du wirklich, wir können das Meer retten?" Tess schien es schon eine Weile zu beschäftigen. "Wir müssen es zumindest versuchen. Wenn nicht für das überleben von der Meerwelt und dem Planeten, wenigstens für uns. Wenn der Planet stirbt ist es wenigstens nicht unsere Schuld." Tess lachte auf. "Das ist aber sehr selbstlos", meinte sie sarkastisch. "Aber es stimmt doch. Das meiste ist doch gar nicht unter unserer Kontrolle. Du kannst Protestieren gehen, deine Lebensweise ändern und andere darauf Aufmerksam machen was für Probleme es gibt, aber es liegt am ende doch an einflussreicheren Menschen. Wir sind Jugendliche, Kinder. Wir müssen tun was wir können, aber letzten Endes hängt es doch von Regierungen ab, Erwachsenen. Aber wenn wir etwas tun , aber die die etwas ändern können, nicht, dann können wir am ende sagen, das wir es wenigstens versucht haben." Tess schwieg. Dann nickte sie. "Wir müssen es schaffen, nicht versuchen." Kit nickte.

Sie saßen wieder einige Minuten einfach da. Die leisen Meeresgeräusche machten Kit etwas schläfrig. Tess schien das zu merken und nahm sanft Kits Kopf von ihrer Schulter und legte ihn auf ihre Beine. Tess fing an ihr durch die Haare zu streichen Kit rückte sich in eine gemütliche Position zurecht und sickerte in einen angenehm Traumlosen schlaf, während die letzten Sonnenstrahlen am Horizont verschwanden.

so, i figured, to tide over all my adoring fans [blows dramatic kiss to empty theater with 3-4 stragglers] i'd post one of my lil oneshots to ao3!!!

prototype #1993.37 "more-mini recorder thingy" v.3 exp.trial.1

this babey is a Percy Weasley-centric fic, narrated by our shayla, preteen ron, focusing on the relationship (and backstory) between percy and the twins, with a heavy heavy helping of Sibling Angst™!!

since this went over so well last time, lemme add some of this fic's comedic hits below, no spoiler edition!

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Stars and What They Could Be

(A Genshin Star!Twins Oneshot)

Aether and Lumine were a pair of stars.

Lumine is brightness, illumination. She shines bright enough to fill the void with soothing light. Unrestrained, she burns everything that turns her way.

Aether is the space between the sky and the heavens. He is the gap between atoms, the space where time wavers, the gateway from the mortal to the immortal realm. With nothing to fill him, he is a grey void, empty of any soul and spirit.

Together, they complete each other. Aether gives Lumine a space to shine; Lumine gives Aether life and love. Without the other, they spiral into despair. Aether becomes a drained husk of a person. Lumine burns herself out until there is nothing left.

For as long as they have existed, they were together. They were born in the blurry beginning nothing-everything of the multiverse; they were built into the entropy of life itself.

Aether and Lumine are not the pair of twins that fell onto Teyvat, not entirely. The twins are a part of them, a human form to observe and learn about everything they can. Their bodies, despite being made of starlight and pure intent, and still made to imitate the most common lifeform in any world. Constrained into a biological shell, they cannot contain all of the existing power they hold. Instead, they act as a conduit that can shape and alter the worlds they visit.

The multiverse is vast and ever-changing. At any given time, there could be hundreds, millions, trillions of Lumine and Aether’s, whether they seem like it or not. They are the universe’s way of monitoring the various worlds and keeping the system running. If they find an issue, they interfere. If they find something interesting, they are free to explore as they please. As long as they are doing their job in some capacity, they are completely autonomous.

The form they take and the experiences they have impact them. While all Lumine and Aether units are inherently identical at the time of their creation, nothing remains the same throughout interaction. They create personalities, relationships, preferences, quirks, and so many other little details that make them unique to each other. Some see their counterpart as a sibling, some a friend, some a lover, and some even an enemy. Many even simply treat the other as a coworker, despite their endless amount of time with them.

But this isn’t about them. This is about our Lumine and Aether; a pair of twins who fell onto Teyvat and witnessed the greatest injustice of their time. When they attempted to leave, they were stopped, and now they are playing a complex and ever-changing game of gods and allogenes.

Well, Aether isn’t. Aether is on his cottagecore arc.

The universe is built on entropy, and in the end, that is all they are.

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this oneshot is a sort-of "prequel" to my ongoing fic on ao3 (specifically built off the "aether is on his cottagecore arc) ^-^ if anyone happens to be interested, my username is the same as my tumblr. have a good day!

wondering if I should post my oneshots here. they're already on my ao3 account, which matches my Tumblr, but I don't know if I want that on my main page. contemplation