corpseontheloose

[corpseontheloose]

Of Course It’s You

✦ oneshot

Reader x Nam-gyu & Thanos | 18+ MDNI

cw: graphic violence, suicide, decapitation, blood, gore, psychological torture, emotional manipulation, grief, death of a loved one, trauma, PTSD themes, character mental breakdown, rage, revenge, physical assault, screaming, despair, mourning, emotional devastation, implied past abuse, self-sacrifice, bloodied personal items, intense angst, survivor’s guilt.

⸻

You were crying before he even opened his mouth.

That was the worst part, how you already knew. Knew he was going to lie. Knew he’d charm you, gaslight you, grab your wrists and swear on the moon that he loved you while his phone buzzed behind his back.

It was always like this. The crash after the high. His voice, his hands, his mouth—he made you feel like the world only spun for you… until it didn’t.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Nam-Gyu muttered, dragging his hand through his hair, pacing the shitty apartment you shared like the floor owed him answers. “You don’t even know the full story.”

You scoffed. “You fucked her.” Silence. His jaw tightened. “I didn’t—” he started, but your laugh cut him off sharp.

“You didn’t what? Mean to? It just happened? Come on, Nam-Gyu, be creative at least. Don’t give me the same cheap line she did.”

He turned fast. “You don’t know what it’s like!” he snapped, voice rising. “Out there, trying to keep shit together, trying to survive! I didn’t plan any of this—”

“But you did it anyway.” Your voice was low. Cold. Broken in the way only love can do. “You always do.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Your eyes were puffy, your lip trembling, arms crossed like a shield even though your whole body screamed I still want you. And he fucking hated that. Because even now, when he didn’t deserve it—you still looked at him like he was your home.

“Please,” he said. Just that. One word. Soft. Vulnerable in a way that hit you straight in the ribs.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Please, what?”

His voice cracked. “Don’t leave me.”

You swallowed down a sob. He came closer. Close enough to touch. Close enough to pull you back in, again. Like always.

“Baby,” he whispered. “You’re the only one who ever stayed. Don’t stop now.”

Your fingers twitched. You wanted to touch him. Just once more. But you stepped back. And it shattered him.

“I love you,” he said, like a final offer, a bargain sealed in blood. You nodded. Tears spilled. “I know. But you only love me when it’s convenient.” Then you turned around. You didn’t slam the door. You didn’t scream. You just left.

And Nam-Gyu? He stood there, staring at your ghost in the hallway light. And for the first time in his life he realized maybe he was the one no one could ever truly love.

You didn’t plan to speak to him. Not at first.

The moment you saw him across the dormitory—alive, smirking, leaning against the wall like the months between you never existed—you turned around. You told yourself you were here to survive, not bleed. But Nam-Gyu had never been good at staying away. “Still giving me the cold shoulder?” he murmured behind you, voice smooth and low. “Thought maybe you’d warmed up by now.”

You turned slow, eyes like fire. “Don’t.”

His grin twitched, just slightly. “Don’t what? Say hi to my ex-girlfriend who broke my heart?”

You blinked once. Twice. Then you laughed, breathless and cruel. “I broke your heart?”

He stepped closer. You didn’t move. You wouldn’t give him that. His presence still made your spine hum, still made your chest ache in all the wrong ways.

“You think you get to do this?” you whispered, fury rising like bile. “Pretend you didn’t use me? Manipulate me? Cheat on me? And then make me feel crazy for caring?”

Nam-Gyu’s face darkened. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it?” You snapped. “Because I trusted you. I tried. Again and again. You made promises and broke every single one. And I kept coming back like an idiot because I loved you.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t ask you to—”

“Yes, you did!”

Your voice cracked. Raw and loud enough to turn heads. “Every time you said ‘please,’ every time you whispered in my ear like I was the only one—you asked me to stay. You fed off that loyalty.”

You took a step forward. Now you were the one towering over him. “You used me, Nam-Gyu. And then you blamed me for the damage.”

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. Because you saw it—the guilt. The twist in his throat. The flicker of regret in the way his hands curled like they were fighting ghosts. And maybe… just maybe, that hurt worse than if he’d screamed back. You shook your head, voice trembling now. “You could’ve had everything, y’know? All of me. You already did.”

Silence stretched like wire between you. Then: “You still feel something,” he murmured, stepping closer again. “I can see it in your eyes.”

You met his gaze with steel. “Yeah. I feel sorry for her.”

He flinched. You turned to leave—but paused. Voice low. Barely audible. “And you know what? I would’ve died for you back then. Now?” You swallowed. “Now I hope you live long enough to regret it.”

Later that night, you weren’t planning to go out.

But sitting in that tiny apartment surrounded by old texts and echoes of a voice that used to own your heart made you snap. So you painted your face, zipped the little black dress he once unzipped, and let yourself be loud for the first time in weeks.

You were on your third drink. Fourth, maybe. Didn’t matter. You laughed too hard, danced too close to strangers, let your body sway with the music like you weren’t quietly falling apart.

And then—his voice. Gentle, amused. “You dropped this.”

You turned. He was holding your phone out, grinning, cheeks flushed from the heat of the crowd. Purple curls messy, shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Wide, open smile.

“Oh,” you said, blinking. “Thanks.”

He glanced at the drink in your hand. “You sure that’s not your third?”

You squinted. “What are you, my moral compass?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m Thanos.”

Your lips quirked. “Seriously?”

“Nickname. Stuck since high school. Long story.”

You smiled. You didn’t mean to. Something in his voice was soft and safe. You let him sit with you. Let him talk. He was surprisingly funny. Warm. Not trying to impress you, just genuinely curious. He asked what you liked, where you grew up, what made you laugh and actually listened.

So when he asked, later, if you wanted to walk outside for air, you said yes. But instead of walking you landed at his place.

“Just water,” he offered, handing you the glass once you sat on the edge of his bed. “And maybe a less crowded playlist.”

You looked around, lips twitching. “You live like someone who folds their laundry immediately.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Is that bad?”

“No. Just… unexpected.”

A pause. Your eyes met again. And then you kissed him. You didn’t explain why. Didn’t say his eyes were soft in a way that made your ribs ache. Didn’t tell him you were trying to burn out the ghost of another man with the kindness of a stranger.

Thanos didn’t ask. He just kissed you back like you were fragile and fire at once. His hands were warm, patient, and you realized—halfway through climbing onto his lap—that he didn’t know. Didn’t know who Nam-Gyu was to you. Didn’t know why your mouth trembled when he called you “sweetheart.” Didn’t know that when he pulled you into his arms, he was undoing knots that someone else tied around your throat.

And you didn’t tell him. Not when you whispered his name. Not when you sighed against his neck. Not even when he looked up at you after and said, “You deserve better than whatever’s hurting you.”

You just kissed him again. Desperate. Quiet. He held you all night. And you tried your hardest not to cry. His kisses had a sweetness to them, like he was still surprised you wanted him. You shoved your hands under his shirt, breath hitching when your fingers traced the lines of his stomach. “Take this off,” you muttered, tugging at the hem. “Now.”

He smiled against your mouth. “You always this bossy?”

“Only when I’m this wet.”

His breath hitched. His shirt hit the floor. You gasped when he pushed you back, lips never leaving your neck as he crawled over you. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, voice gone low. “Let me give it to you.” You reached for his belt, dragging him closer. “I want your mouth first.”

He didn’t hesitate. He kissed down your body with reverence—slow at first, like he needed to learn every reaction. He teased the inside of your thighs, hands gentle but firm, until you were squirming beneath him.

And when his tongue finally slid over your soaked heat, you broke. “God—fuck—”

He groaned like it turned him on to hear his name like that. His grip tightened on your hips as he ate you out like a man starved, like he needed to prove something with every stroke of his tongue. You were shaking in minutes. But he didn’t stop, not when your legs clamped around his head, not when you came hard on his tongue with a strangled cry.

“You taste like peace,” he muttered against your skin, breath warm. “Like everything I’ve ever wanted to come home to.”

Then he was above you again, hard and thick, pressing against your entrance with a low groan. You grabbed his jaw and kissed him as he pushed inside, slow but deep.

And when he started moving you nearly sobbed. He fucked you like he felt something. Like this wasn’t just a night, but a need.

“Tell me you’ll come back,” he whispered, hips rolling in a rhythm that made you clench around him.

You whimpered into his shoulder. “You’ll ruin me if I do.” His voice cracked. “I want to.”

The morning after, sunlight was soft against your bare back. You blinked slowly, curled into warm sheets, his chest rising and falling beside you. He was beautiful in sleep. One arm under the pillow, purple hair falling over his forehead, lips parted just slightly.

You didn’t wake him. You got up quietly, pulling on your dress from the night before, finding your heels beside the door. And then, with a smile and a soft exhale, you grabbed the pen from his desk and scrawled your number on a folded napkin.

“Call me when you want to feel something real.”

You left it on his nightstand. Right beside the glass of water he gave you hours earlier.

He texted the next night. “Can I see you again?”

And you did. Once. Then twice. Then every time the ache got too loud. You didn’t talk about feelings. You didn’t talk about exes. Just soft laughter. Hard kisses. Slow touches. He never asked who broke your heart. And you never realized his best friend used to hold the same parts of you.

You came home late three days later after hooking up with him again.

The envelope sat on your table like a dare. Pink. Crisp. Folded so perfectly it pissed you off. You didn’t even remember taking the card from that man’s hand.

You’d just been walking home. Alone. Same walk, same silence, same city that didn’t care if you were alive or dead. You told yourself you’d throw it away. You didn’t.

Instead, you sat there for hours, staring at the numbers printed inside. Rereading the instructions. Fingering the edge of the card like it could cut you open and finally let something out.

No one would miss you. Not your job. Not your landlord. Not Nam-Gyu. You laughed bitterly at that. He’d probably already replaced you. Or convinced himself you never mattered. Maybe he was drinking somewhere, charming the next girl into loving a version of him that didn’t exist.

Maybe he’d already forgotten how many times you let him destroy you and still begged him to stay.

You stood. The clock blinked 1:34 a.m. You packed nothing. Didn’t call anyone. Didn’t even leave a note. You slipped the card into your pocket, grabbed your coat, and walked out the door barefoot.

Not to escape. Not to win. Just to see what would happen if you finally let go.

And when the black van pulled up— You didn’t flinch.

When the gas hissed into your lungs— You didn’t fight.

When the mask came off and the games began— You didn’t care.

Because you had already lost everything that mattered. And the only thing you still knew how to do was survive.

The dormitory was nothing but metal and murmurs. Rows of beds like prison bunks, cold lights humming overhead. You stood in the doorway with your arms crossed, ignoring the stares. Nobody knew you. You liked it that way. At least—until a familiar voice sliced through the noise.

“Well, shit.”

You didn’t move. But you felt him behind you. Felt the tension coil in your spine like instinct. Like muscle memory.

“Of course it’s you,” he said, voice low. Bitter. Almost amused. “They really let just anyone in now, huh?”

You turned slowly. Nam-Gyu leaned against a bunk post with that same crooked grin, the one that used to undo you in seconds. Hands in his pockets. Eyes dark with recognition and something sharper. Your heart cracked once in your chest. Loud and sudden. You said nothing. He tilted his head. “What, no dramatic reunion? No tears?”

“I used them all up,” you muttered. He chuckled under his breath. “Still bratty, I see.” You stared at him—at the face that kissed you sweet and then lied just as easily. And then you walked away. No words. No reaction. That was the worst punishment you could give him.

You didn’t expect to see Thanos next. He found you near the back wall, sitting alone, pretending not to shake. “Hey!”

You looked up. And your breath caught. That smile. That voice. That ridiculous purple hair you buried your face in two nights ago.

“I—I didn’t think you’d actually… be here,” he said, surprised and warm and way too soft for this place. “You okay?”

Your throat tightened. “Yeah. Just… a weird day.” He didn’t question it. Just sat beside you, close but not too close. You could feel the heat of him through the chill. “I was hoping I’d see you again. Not like this, but—still.”

You smiled. Barely. “You’re too sweet for this place.” His eyes met yours, and you swore you saw something flicker. A little worry. A little affection.

But then— “Yo, Thanos!”

The call echoed through the dorm. You both turned. Nam-Gyu. He strolled over casually, grinning at his friend. “Man, you got dragged into this too? Crazy.” Thanos stood, surprised. “You know her?” Nam-Gyu didn’t miss a beat. “Oh yeah,” he said, glancing at you with a smirk. “We’ve… met.”

Your blood ran cold. Thanos looked between you. Confused. Then concerned. You stood before either of them could say another word. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or scream.

Of course they knew each other.

Of course the one man who held you like peace and the one who destroyed you like a storm were friends.

Of course the universe was cruel enough to put all three of you in the same goddamn death game.

It started with a hand on your wrist. Firm. Familiar. You yanked away on instinct. “Don’t touch me.” Nam-Gyu raised both hands, expression exaggerated like he was innocent. Like he didn’t know exactly where your bruises were buried. “Relax,” he muttered, glancing around the dormitory. “I just wanna talk.”

“Funny,” you said flatly. “That’s not usually what you wanted.”

His grin twitched. For a second, it slipped. “I’m not here to fight,” he said. “I just… it’s been months. You never answered my texts. You disappeared.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

He stepped closer, voice quieter. “Look, I fucked up. I know. But maybe… maybe this place’s giving me a second chance. And maybe you showing up here—”

“Don’t you dare spin this like fate,” you snapped. “This isn’t destiny. This is hell. And I ended things because I couldn’t breathe with you anymore.”

Nam-Gyu’s smile vanished. His jaw locked. “You really think I didn’t care about you?”

“You cared when it was easy. When I said yes to everything, when I trusted you blindly.” You shook your head, words sharp and fast now. “You used my loyalty. My love. Every time I gave you another chance, you turned it into a fucking leash.”

His voice dropped dangerously soft. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” you said. “Over and over. Until I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

You felt it before you heard him. “Hey.” You turned. Thanos stood a few feet away. His brows were furrowed, that usually soft face drawn tight. You could tell he heard enough. Not all. But enough.

“Everything okay?” he asked. To you. Only you.

Nam-Gyu laughed, low and bitter. “So this is the guy, huh?”

Thanos looked confused. “What?”

“She’s fast,” Nam-Gyu said. “Didn’t know you had her so soon after I lost her. But I guess we’ve got similar taste.”

You flinched like he slapped you. Thanos stared between you two. “You… dated?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Nam-Gyu smirked, cruel now. “Didn’t she tell you? No? Huh.” Thanos stepped forward, voice calm but cold. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that she moved on without a second thought,” Nam-Gyu said. “That she acts like she’s better now—like she didn’t crawl back to me a dozen times crying.”

“That’s enough,” Thanos snapped, stepping between you.

Nam-Gyu tilted his head. “Touchy.”

Thanos didn’t move. “Walk away.”

The tension snapped like a live wire. Nam-Gyu scoffed. “Whatever. She always picks the soft ones first. Let’s see how long that lasts.” He turned and walked off, leaving silence in his wake.

You couldn’t look at Thanos.

“I didn’t know,” he said finally, voice gentler. “I didn’t know you had… history.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

“I don’t,” he said, too quickly. Then softer, “But I wish you’d told me. I would’ve understood.”

You looked at him then. And your chest ached. Because he meant it. Because he still looked at you like you weren’t damaged. Because maybe… you were starting to care too much.

You couldn’t stay in the dorms after that. Too many eyes. Too much heat. Too many ghosts walking in Nam-Gyu’s skin. So you left. Found a quiet stairwell behind the sleeping quarters. Cold concrete. Flickering light. No one followed.

Except— You felt him before you heard him.

Thanos. He didn’t speak. Didn’t sit. Just leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, eyes gentle. Not watching. Just… there.

You pulled your knees to your chest, forehead against them, and exhaled. You didn’t mean to cry. You didn’t want to.

But the sobs came anyway—shallow, panicked, gasping. Your body shook like it had too much electricity and nowhere to ground it. The tightness in your chest finally cracked, and it all spilled out: the shame, the longing, the heartbreak. The missing.

You didn’t even look up when he crossed the space and knelt beside you. Didn’t flinch when his arms wrapped around you slowly—just enough to let you pull away if you wanted.

You didn’t. You melted into him like you’d been waiting for someone to notice you were crumbling.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He pressed his face into your hair. “Don’t be.”

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

He pulled you tighter. “That’s not your call to make.”

You sobbed harder. “I still love him,” you choked. “I hate it, but I do. And you’re—fuck, you’re so good to me, and I don’t know how to let that in.”

Thanos didn’t flinch. He didn’t scold you. He didn’t ask for anything. He just held you. Kept holding you. “I’m not asking you to love me,” he said softly. “I’m just asking you to let me stay.”

And maybe that was the moment you broke again. But this time, not from pain.

You curled into him like a child, hands fisting the front of his shirt, forehead pressed against his chest. His warmth soaked into your frozen skin. His hand rubbed soft circles into your back, patient and slow.

No words. No expectations.

Just this: Two broken people. One trying to be enough. And when you finally fell asleep in his arms, hiccuping through the last of your sobs— He stayed awake. Holding you like you were the only thing left in the world worth saving.

The dorm was dim. Most were asleep.

You sat curled in your bed, far in the corner, away from the others. A makeshift sanctuary built out of blankets, shadows, and what was left of your will to stay numb.

Thanos had left quietly. He said he’d grab food. Told you to rest. Gave your hand one last squeeze before disappearing through the rows of bunks. You missed his warmth the second he left. But the moment of peace he gave you still lingered on your skin like breath.

Until— “Figured you’d crawl back to someone eventually.”

You froze. Nam-Gyu stood a few feet away, voice lower now. Quiet. Controlled. A storm holding its breath. You didn’t answer. Just pulled your knees closer, fingers digging into the thin blanket wrapped around you. He stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully.

“Out of all people,” he murmured, eyes burning into yours, “him?”

“Go away,” you whispered.

He chuckled. It wasn’t kind. “You know you don’t want that.”

His voice was low now. Almost gentle. But it dripped with heat and hate and something worse: familiarity. “You belong to me.”

Your jaw clenched. “I never belonged to you. That’s the whole fucking point.” He stepped closer. You stood, quickly—heart pounding. Ready to leave. Run. Hide. Anything. But his hand shot out fast and grabbed your wrist.

You gasped, twisting. “Let go—”

But he was already there. His mouth crashed into yours, bruising and raw and violent with need. His other hand grabbed your jaw, holding you in place as he kissed you like he wanted to punish you for leaving.

And the worst part? You let him. Because your body remembered him too well. The heat of him. The taste. The way he took without asking and made you love it. You whimpered against his mouth as he bit your lip, dragging your body against his like he’d been starved for this. Like he was trying to rewrite your loyalty through sheer force.

“Fuck,” he muttered into your skin. “You still feel like mine.”

Your fingers fisted his shirt before you could stop yourself.For one filthy, breathless moment—nothing else existed. Not Thanos. Not the others. Not the shame.

Just him. The boy who broke you. The boy you still loved in all the wrong ways. When the kiss broke, your breath was ragged. His hand still gripped your waist. His forehead pressed to yours.

“You’ll come back,” he whispered. “You always do.”

You didn’t answer. Because you didn’t know if he was wrong. You were still standing when Nam-Gyu left. Still dazed. Still hot in the face, your lips swollen and your wrist sore from where he grabbed you too tight. Your breath came shallow, chest rising and falling like something had just happened.

Because it had. And you let it. You didn’t cry. Not yet. You sat down slowly, pulled the blanket tighter around your legs, stared at the far wall like maybe you could undo it just by wishing hard enough.

You heard Thanos before you saw him, soft footsteps, the familiar clink of a tray in his hands. He appeared in the row again, warm eyes scanning the space until they landed on you.

He smiled, tired but sweet. “I brought you something,” he said quietly, crouching beside your mattress. “It’s not great, but it’s hot.”

You nodded once. Didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks.”

He paused. Studied you. “You okay?”

Your heart stuttered. You nodded again, a little too fast. “Just tired.” He watched you for a beat longer. The tension in your shoulders. The way you wouldn’t look at him. The way your fingers trembled slightly when you reached for the food.

He didn’t press. Didn’t push. Just sat beside your mattress with his back against the wall, knees drawn up. Quietly near. Not touching.

“I can sit here,” he said softly. “If you want.”

You swallowed hard. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

He stayed anyway.

Minutes passed in silence. You picked at the food. He hummed quietly, gaze distant. And then—too soft for anyone else to hear: “Did something happen?”

Your throat closed. You shook your head. “No. Just… being here. Everything. It’s a lot.” He nodded slowly. “Yeah. It is.”

Another pause. And then, voice like a whisper: “You don’t have to carry all of it alone.”

And fuck, that nearly broke you. You didn’t deserve him. You knew that now—knew it with every aching, dirty corner of your heart. But when he leaned his shoulder gently against yours, you leaned back.

Because even liars need warmth sometimes.

It started small.

Thanos noticed the way your eyes shifted when Nam-Gyu entered a room. The way your voice clipped shorter. How you pressed yourself into corners like you were trying to shrink.

You flinched when footsteps came too close. You didn’t let anyone walk behind you anymore. He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched. Quietly concerned. The pieces were starting to fit—but he didn’t want to believe what they formed.

Not from Nam-Gyu. Not from someone he trusted.

But then Nam-Gyu bumped into you during lineup—his hand resting a second too long on your back.

And you flinched like you’d been hit. Thanos saw it. Saw the way you immediately pretended it hadn’t happened. Saw the fake smile you put on. And something in his chest snapped.

That Night you didn’t sleep. The bunk was too hot. Too loud. Too close to memories that pressed against your skin like fingerprints. You were still curled up under your blanket when you felt Thanos’ presence beside you.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured.

You didn’t move.

“I just wanted to check on you.”

You nodded into the blanket. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Silence.

“I saw the way he touched you earlier.”

Your breath caught. “I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Thanos said, voice tight. “But I’ve seen the way you look when he’s around. Like you’re bracing for something. Like you’re waiting for a hit that already landed.”

You stayed frozen. And then, voice trembling: “I let him kiss me.”

The words came out before you could stop them. Thanos was quiet. You forced yourself to keep speaking—shaking now, breathing too fast. “I let him. I don’t know why. He just—he always gets in my head and I’m so fucking stupid, Thanos—”

“Stop,” he said softly.

“I’m not like you,” you whispered. “You’re kind. You’re good. I—I broke something before it even had a chance to start. I ruined it. I let him ruin me.”

You were full-on crying now, curled into yourself. Too hot. Too dizzy. Your skin felt too small.

And then—you felt him. Gently, carefully, Thanos slid into the narrow space beside you and wrapped his arms around you.

Not tightly. Not possessively. Just… there. His fingers stroked your hair. Your back. He didn’t shush you. Didn’t try to fix it. He let you break. Quietly. Fully. And when your shaking finally slowed, he whispered: “I don’t care what you did.”

You blinked up at him, eyes red. “I don’t care how broken you think you are. Or what he did to you. Or what you let happen.”

His hand found yours, warm and grounding. “You still deserve better. And I’m staying until you believe that.”

You cried harder. Because deep down, you wanted to believe it too. After fifteen minutes you excused yourself and went to the bathroom.

The bathroom was cold and echoing, the flickering light above the sinks humming like a warning. You didn’t want to cry again.

You needed air. Just five minutes of quiet. Away from Thanos’ kindness. Away from your own guilt. Away from everything boiling under your skin like rot. You didn’t hear Nam-Gyu at first. But you felt him. The door creaked behind you. Then silence.

You glanced up at the mirror. He stood behind you. Calm. Watching. You turned, slowly. “Don’t,” you warned.

“I just want to talk,” he said, voice low. Too low.

“Then talk from over there.”

But he stepped closer. And closer. Until your back hit the door of the stall and your breath caught. He leaned in, eyes burning. “You’re shaking.”

“Not because of you.”

“Liar.”

You glared. “You really think I’m scared of you?”

“I think you’re scared of how much you still want me.”

Your jaw clenched. “Say that again and I’ll kill you.”

He smirked. So you slapped him. The crack echoed in the tile. His head snapped to the side, jaw tight, breath caught.

Silence. His chest heaved once. Slowly, he turned back to you. And your heart was racing. You stared up at him—eyes wide, still trembling from the impact, lips parted like you were about to say something.

But neither of you spoke. You lunged first. Mouths collided, teeth clashing, hands in hair, on hips, dragging each other closer like the heat might kill you if you stopped.

He shoved you into the stall, kicked it shut, slammed the lock. Your back hit the cold wall. His hands were already under your shirt, your nails digging into his neck, pulling him closer.

You hated him. You wanted him. “Fucking bastard,” you hissed against his mouth. “I missed this,” he growled. “I missed you like this—mad, wet, desperate.”

You kissed him harder. Dirtier. He dropped to his knees. And when his mouth pressed against your cunt through your panties, you almost screamed. “You acting like you didn’t want me?” he muttered against the soaked fabric.

You grabbed his hair, yanking. “Shut up.”

He tore the fabric aside and licked you like a man drowning. Messy, groaning, tongue flicking over your clit until your knees buckled and your moans echoed off the walls.

You came fast. Violent. He stood and kissed you again, your taste on his mouth, unbuckling his pants like he couldn’t wait another second.

You didn’t stop him. You let him push into you deep, fast, brutal. You clung to his shoulders and bit his throat, cried out his name like it still meant something.

He fucked you against the stall door like it was punishment.

And you loved it. Every thrust reminded you what you hated. Every kiss reminded you what you missed. And when you came again, full-body shaking, sobbing into his mouth, you hated yourself most of all.

The bathroom was too quiet now.

The air still reeked of sweat and desperation. Your back still pressed against the cold tile, your thighs sticky, his breath ghosting over your collarbone as his arms caged you in.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. He was still inside you, half-soft now, forehead resting against yours like he was allowed to be there. Like he hadn’t just broken every part of you you’d been trying to fix.

His voice came low, raw, and almost sweet. “You still fit me,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes.

“This—” he breathed, nose brushing your cheek, “this doesn’t happen if it’s over. Not like that. You don’t come for me like that if it’s done.”

You wanted to say it meant nothing. You wanted to scream fuck you. But your mouth stayed shut. “I know you feel it,” he murmured. “You always did. You just get scared when it’s real.”

You scoffed weakly, eyes fluttering open. “Is this the part where you ask me for something again?”

He smiled softly, that same disarming twist of his lips you once thought was love. “Not ask. Just… remind.”

You stared at him, jaw tight.

“You know the next vote’s coming soon,” he said. “People are scared. Panicking. But you—you’re smart. Loyal. We could stick together this time. Watch each other’s backs.”

“I already voted,” you muttered. “I’m staying.”

“Then stay with me.” His voice dropped. “We could survive this. We know each other. We work. You just… forget that sometimes.”

His fingers skimmed your side, your hipbone. Ghost-like.

You shivered.

“You said you’d always come back to me.”

You flinched. “That was before you destroyed me,” you whispered.

He paused. Then leaned in and kissed you. Not like before. Not violent. Not messy. This time, it was soft. Dangerous in a whole new way. Like he was trying to convince you it was still love.

And the worst part? You kissed him back. For a second. Then you broke away, breath catching. “You’re trying to use me.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he said quickly. “I’m trying to remind you who the fuck you are. And who we are.”

You stared at him, chest heaving, wrists trembling. And for a second… You wanted to believe him.

The next morning came too fast.

You barely slept. Your body ached. Your mind ran in circles, torn between regret and denial, and your skin still carried the imprint of him like a bruise you couldn’t scrub out.

They lined you up for the game—rows of red suits, the cold voice echoing rules none of you had the power to change.

You didn’t look at Nam-Gyu. Not even once.

But you felt Thanos near. Too near. “Hey—”

You turned, fast. He flinched at the cold in your eyes.

“Don’t,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “What?”

“Don’t follow me. Not today.”

He paused. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You swallowed the guilt. Hard. “I’m not yours to protect.”

That hurt him. You saw it. But he nodded anyway. Respecting your distance. Even when it killed him to do it.

The game began.

It was chaos. No teams. No strategy. Just panic and knives and desperation. You were supposed to be watching the perimeter.

Nam-Gyu had a plan. Said he’d found a loophole—one that meant less death if you trusted him. But the first scream told you otherwise.

You turned just in time to see it. Nam-Gyu—blade in hand—slashing across a man’s throat with terrifying ease. The guy had no weapon. He didn’t even fight back. And Nam-Gyu laughed. Like it was fun.

Another player ran. Nam-Gyu threw the knife straight through their back. More blood. Another body. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate.

You froze, horror pooling in your stomach like acid. Thanos stepped up beside you just in time to watch the third kill.

His breath hitched. “Is that—?”

“Yes,” you whispered. And then, slower: “Yes. That’s who he is.”

Nam-Gyu turned, blood on his hands. Saw you watching. And he smiled. Like it was all for you. The world cracked around you. Everything he whispered. Every kiss. Every apology. Every time he said you belong to me.

It was a lie. All of it. And now people were dead. Because of him. Because of you. Because you let yourself believe him.

Again.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. But when Thanos whispered, “What did he do to you?”— You finally broke inside. Because you didn’t have an answer that didn’t taste like shame.

You sat alone against the cold dormitory wall after, your body heavy with someone else’s blood. You hadn’t spoken in hours.

Not since the screams stopped. Not since Thanos helped you clean your hands in silence. He didn’t ask what Nam-Gyu meant to you anymore. He didn’t need to. He just stayed close—breathing, real, human. The only softness left in the building.

But now… Nam-Gyu was here again. He walked toward you with that same, deliberate calm. The killer’s walk. Slow. Careful. Like he already knew how the conversation would end. You didn’t look up.

“I told you we could survive this,” he said quietly, crouching beside you.

Like a lover. Like he wasn’t soaked in what he’d done. You kept your eyes on the floor. “You murdered people who begged.”

“I made it through,” he said. “So did you.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

His voice dropped, coaxing. “We did what we had to do. You’re alive because of it.”

Your jaw clenched. He shifted closer. “The vote’s coming. I know it’s scary. But you have to keep going. Vote O.”

You finally looked at him. Eyes hollow. Voice flat. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

His face twitched. “I mean it,” you said. “I’m done. I don’t care what the money means. I don’t care who gets out. I just… I don’t want to watch anyone else die.”

Nam-Gyu’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“This is how we live now,” he said, low. “There’s no ‘done.’ There’s just dead or alive. You want to live?”

You shook your head. “Not like this.”

His hand brushed your arm. You pulled away.

“You don’t get to come here, dripping in blood, and pretend you’re the victim,” you snapped.

“I did it for us.”

“There is no us, Nam-Gyu.”

He leaned in, whisper sharp. “There could be. If you just stop running.” You laughed bitterly, broken. “You can’t keep choosing violence and calling it love.”

He stared at you—hard. And then… softer.

“You voted O before,” he murmured. “You trusted me once.”

You swallowed the ache. “That was before I saw who you really were.”

The room was colder than you remembered. One by one, they called names. One by one, people walked forward, stepped into the glass booth, and placed their hand on the panel.

X to end it.

O to keep going.

Thanos stood across from you, his jaw tense. He hadn’t said it out loud, but you knew he’d vote X. He wanted out. He wanted to believe people still had something left to live for. You told yourself you’d do the same. You rehearsed it in your head like a promise.

X. X. X. X. Then you heard your name. Your legs felt numb. You walked anyway. Nam-Gyu caught your eye. He didn’t move. Just sat with one arm draped lazily over his knee, lips slightly curled like he already knew what you’d choose. His voice echoed in your skull. “You want to live, don’t you?” “Vote O. With me.” “We’ll make it out. We’ll survive.”

You stepped up. Two symbols. Two futures. Your hand hovered over X. You closed your eyes. Bodies hitting the floor. Blood under your fingernails. Thanos’ arms around you. Nam-Gyu’s mouth against your neck.

The moment you watched him laugh while killing someone who begged. Your heart stuttered. You could end this. You could vote X and maybe—maybe—go home with your soul intact. But your finger didn’t move.

And before you could stop yourself— Your hand slid to the right. Pressed O. No expression. No emotion. The light blinked green. You stepped out of the booth and walked back to your bed. You didn’t meet Thanos’ eyes. But you felt his heartbreak crash into the back of your skull like a wave you didn’t bother to outrun.

You didn’t look at anyone after you voted.

Not Thanos. Not the guards. Not the others staring like they’d seen a ghost in your skin. You just walked. Slow. Stiff. Back to your bed. Back to the place where you pretended to be okay every night.

You sat down, hands still in your lap, fingertips tingling like they’d just signed a death warrant.

Because they had. And then—you felt him. You didn’t need to look up to know it was him. Nam-Gyu dropped down beside you, body angled toward yours, voice low and syrup-slick. “You made the right choice.”

You didn’t speak.

“You might hate me,” he murmured, “but you don’t want to leave me.”

Your jaw twitched.

“I watched your hand,” he continued. “I watched it hover. Thought maybe, for once, you’d resist. That you’d actually walk away.”

He leaned in closer. “But you didn’t.”

You turned your head just enough to see him—eyes glassy, expression unreadable.

He smiled. Soft. Satisfied. Deadly.

“You always come back.”

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to scream. But you just sat there, still as stone, breathing through the burn in your throat.

“You can pretend you’re doing this for survival,” he whispered. “But we both know it’s me. It’s always been me.”

His hand brushed your thigh. Casual. Possessive. Infuriatingly intimate.

“You voted for us.”

“No,” you said hoarsely. “I voted because I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore.”

He chuckled. “Same difference.”

And then he leaned forward and kissed the side of your head. Not lust. Not heat. Just a quiet claim. And when he stood and walked away, shoulders relaxed, swagger back— You felt the hole he left behind fill with self-hate.

Next Game, next day.

You weren’t supposed to fall. The beams were slick. Your balance was off. One misstep—and suddenly your fingers were barely holding on, your feet dangling in open air. Below you: nothing. Death.

You screamed. You didn’t even realize you screamed his name. “Nam-Gyu—!” You looked up. He was there. Just a few steps away. He saw you. Your hand stretched toward him—desperate, trembling. He stared. And then— He ran.

No hesitation. No shame. Just turned and ran. Left you hanging. Left you to die. Your grip slipped.

And then— Warm hands. Big ones. Grabbing your arms. Lifting. Steadying.

Thanos. “Got you,” he panted, straining. “I got you—I got you—don’t let go.” You didn’t. Because he didn’t.

Back in the Dormitory. You were shaking. Bleeding at the knuckles. Dirt on your cheek. Eyes dark with the kind of rage that only betrayal breeds. You didn’t speak.

You walked. Straight through the hallway, past the stares, past the whispers. And there he was.

Leaning against your bedframe like a fucking welcome mat. “Damn, babe,” he smirked. “That was close, huh?”

Your walk didn’t break stride. He opened his mouth to say something else—something smug, but your hand moved faster than your words.

Your palm slammed across his face so hard it echoed off the walls. His head snapped to the side. He had to step back.

Everyone froze. You stared at him, eyes blazing, voice ice-cold.

“You let me hang.”

He blinked, jaw twitching. “I panicked.”

“No,” you hissed. “You left. You watched me scream your name and you ran, you little bitch.”

His cheek was red. Eyes wide now. “It wasn’t like that—”

“It was exactly like that.”

He stepped toward you again, slow. Like maybe you’d melt again if he just got close enough.

But you stepped back. “Try it,” you growled. “And I swear I’ll make what happened out there look merciful.”

You didn’t cry. You didn’t look at Thanos—who stood at the end of the row, watching, fists clenched.

You just walked to your bed. And for the first time since the games began— You didn’t feel broken. You felt done.

He found you later. After the crowd had scattered. After the sting of your slap faded from his cheek but not from the air. You were sitting at the edge of your bed, elbows on your knees, staring at the floor like it held the last piece of yourself you hadn’t given away.

He approached like a ghost. “Hey,” he said softly.

You didn’t look up.

“Can I just… talk?” Silence.

“I fucked up,” he said. “Out there. I know that.”

Still nothing.

“I was scared.” Your head lifted slightly. Not enough to meet his eyes. Just enough to speak. “You weren’t scared,” you said. Calm. Flat. Final. “You were selfish.”

He flinched. “You left me to die, Nam-Gyu.”

“I—” “You left,” you repeated, louder. “You looked at me, saw me hanging there, screaming your name, and you ran.”

“I panicked—” “Stop,” you snapped, finally looking at him.

And your expression— It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t sad. It was empty.

And that scared him more than anything.

“I believed you,” you whispered. “Again. I listened. I voted the way you wanted. I let you crawl back into my head, into my body, into everything I was trying to rebuild.”

His breath caught.

“And you still did the only thing you ever really know how to do.”

You stood. “You ran.” Nam-Gyu opened his mouth, stepping forward. “Please, I didn’t mean to—” “Shut up.”

His words died. “You don’t get to come back from that,” you said. “Not this time. Not ever.” He stared at you. Pale. Cracked open.

Like he just realized the grip he had on you wasn’t just slipping—it was gone. You leaned in close. Just enough for him to hear your final words: “I would’ve died for you once. Now I hope you live long enough to hate yourself.”

Then you walked away. No hesitation. No pause. And behind you— For the first time since the Games began— Nam-Gyu didn’t follow.

Thanos sat alone at the far wall, legs crossed, head down like he was deep in thought. He wasn’t talking. Just breathing. Solid. There.

You didn’t think. You just moved. Across the room. Quiet steps. No hesitation. He looked up at the last second—eyes widening just slightly—before you wrapped your arms around him.

Tight. All of you. Head in his neck. Hands clutching his back.

No words. Just the weight of everything you’d been holding finally landing on someone who never made you feel small for it. He froze for a moment. Then his arms wrapped around you like he’d been waiting for this since the second you met.

He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t press. He just held you. Quiet and firm and full of something real. You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to. Later, he walked you to your bed.

Still holding your hand. Still there. The room was quieter now. Most had fallen asleep. Nam-Gyu sat up in his bunk, pretending to read the wall. You didn’t even look at him. You sat on the mattress, legs tucked under the thin blanket, and waited.

Thanos hesitated for a second. “I’ll go if—”

You shook your head. “Stay.” So he did.

He lay beside you, careful not to touch too much. His fingers brushed your wrist once, accidental, shy. But you turned into him slowly. Pressed your body to his chest. Hands curling against his shirt, your breath slowing as his scent calmed you.

And when you slid your fingers over his ribs, just enough to make him gasp— He looked at you. Eyes wide. Flushed. Still unsure.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You nodded. Then he kissed you. Soft, reverent. You melted into it. You didn’t hide it. Didn’t shield it. Because you knew Nam-Gyu was watching.

You let Thanos kiss you like you mattered. Let him hold your jaw with both hands like he was scared you’d disappear. And you kissed him back like you wanted to rewrite every bruise Nam-Gyu ever left behind.

In the shadows, across the room, Nam-Gyu watched. Jaw clenched. Fists curled. Heart breaking so slowly it made no sound at all.

It was quiet in the dormitory. Bodies shifted in sleep. A few soft snores. The hum of cold lights overhead. You lay with your back pressed to Thanos’ chest, his arms around you like a shield against everything.

And for the first time in days— You felt safe. You turned in his hold, facing him in the dark. His breath brushed your cheek. He looked at you with those wide, warm eyes like you were something breakable.

You brushed your thumb along his jaw, voice a whisper.

“Throw the blanket over us.”

His brows furrowed slightly, confused. “Why—?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I want you.”

He stiffened. “Here?” he whispered, shocked. “Now?”

“It’s dark,” you said. Calm. Steady. “People are asleep. Nobody’s around us.”

Your hand slid over his stomach, slow, deliberate. “I want to feel you.”

His breath caught. You didn’t have to ask twice. He moved with care—throwing the blanket up and over you both like a canopy of sin. The space grew warm, humid, yours. You rolled onto your back and let him shift between your legs, both of you still clothed.

But not for long. He tugged your waistband down—just under your ass. And fumbled with his own pants just enough for his cock to slip free, thick and flushed, already hard from how close your breath was.

You both exhaled, shaky and quiet. Then—he pushed in. Slow. Deep. Your bodies curved to fit each other. You moaned into his neck, your legs around his waist. He thrust slowly, careful not to rock the bedframe, one hand over your mouth at first, then both of you stifling sound with desperate kisses.

You whispered his name like prayer. He whispered yours like he couldn’t believe he’d earned it.

“Feels so good,” you breathed into his mouth. “You feel so good.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he choked. “You—you’re perfect.”

Your hand clawed at his shirt. He held your thigh tighter, breath ragged. And then he came, quiet, deep inside you, eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressed to yours like he was praying.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand slipped down between you both, fingers dipping through the mess of you, rubbing your clit in slow, wet circles under the blanket. Your back arched. You bit his shoulder. He kissed you harder.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” he whispered. “Let me feel you.”

You did, silent, trembling, your thighs locking around his hips. He kissed your moans from your mouth. Swallowed every sound. You clung to him like gravity itself had chosen him for you.

Across the room, in the dark, Nam-Gyu sat up in his bunk. He’d heard the breathing. The rhythm. The way your hips rocked beneath the blanket. The way Thanos kissed you after—gentle. Loving. Final.

He stared. Jaw clenched. Fists curled. Chest hollow.

And for the first time in his life— he felt it all crash down.

The Next Morning.

You lined up like before.

Another game. Another set of rules none of you fully understood.

But this time, you didn’t tremble. You didn’t flinch. You stood still. Eyes blank. Expression unreadable.

Until Thanos stepped beside you. Your face softened. Just slightly. Just for him. A tiny smile. Almost invisible. But he saw it. And it was enough.

Nam-Gyu saw it, too. He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t spoken to anyone. And now, watching you lean toward Thanos—watching the ease, the comfort, the way your bodies curved naturally into each other—something in him snapped.

He stormed across the line. Ignored the guards. Walked straight toward you.

“You’re really doing this now?” he hissed, voice low. “After everything?”

You didn’t look at him.

“You think this ends well for either of you? That fucking smiley coward’s gonna get you killed—”

Then he grabbed your arm. That was his mistake. The second his hand touched your skin— You turned. Your face didn’t twist. You didn’t scream.

You just snapped. You grabbed his wrist. Tight. He gasped. Dropped.

A crack—SNAP. Two fingers. Bent the wrong way.

He collapsed to one knee, staring up at you, stunned—like he couldn’t understand how someone he once controlled just broke him without blinking. You stood over him, chest rising and falling, breath calm.

Then you leaned down— And spat next to him. “Fuck you, Nam-Gyu.”

You didn’t wait for a reaction. You walked away. Straight to Thanos. Back to your place. Back to the side you chose. And for the first time since the games began—

Nam-Gyu stayed down. Not because of pain. But because he finally understood: You weren’t his anymore.

And now? You never fucking would be.

The room after the game was silent.

Not quiet. Silent. No breathing. No crying. No scrambling for food. Just 10 people. Still. Shellshocked. Soaked in blood that wasn’t their own. You sat against the wall, knees tucked to your chest, staring at the ground like it might rise up and swallow you whole.

The game had been a nightmare. Not clever. Not strategic.

Just violence. Screams. Chaos. People running in circles, stabbing each other just to stay alive. No rules. No structure.

Just… purge. You made it. But you didn’t feel human anymore.

Across the room, Thanos sat, shoulders shaking, blood smeared across his jaw. Not his. He’d tried to help someone. Tried to save a woman who begged on her knees. She died screaming anyway.

Nam-Gyu sat in the far corner. Alone. Hands wrapped in bandages. Still stunned from the last time you touched him. No one looked at him. No one spoke to him. He was dead in a different way now.

No power. No voice. Just a broken man watching the world burn around him. You stood slowly, legs shaking. And walked to Thanos.

He looked up like he expected you to push him away. Instead, you dropped to your knees and rested your head in his lap.

He exhaled, one trembling breath. And his hand slid into your hair, slow and soft. “This is what’s left of us,” you whispered. “Just pieces.”

He didn’t speak. Just kissed your forehead. And for a few seconds in that blood-stained hell— you let yourself believe there might still be something worth living for.

The voice rang out overhead, flat and merciless.

“Next game will begin shortly. Players will be assigned into pairs. Pairings are non-negotiable.”

A few people groaned. One girl dropped to her knees. No one cheered.

You didn’t move. Didn’t blink. You just felt it. The cold certainty crawl down your spine before the guards even started handing out slips of paper.

And when they reached you and the red circle was drawn beside his name, you didn’t flinch.

Of course. Of fucking course. You didn’t even have to look up to know Thanos was staring. You stood slowly. Met his eyes across the room. And your heart cracked—because his eyes were already glassy.

Already full of everything he didn’t say. He took a step forward, his voice low, shaking. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

You walked to him. Let your hand wrap around his. Let your forehead rest against his, just for a second. His breath caught. “He’s not like the others. He’ll—he’ll twist it. He’ll say anything. You don’t have to listen—”

You leaned back, meeting his gaze. Steady. Unshaken.

“If I have to kill him,” you said softly, “I will.”

Thanos stared at you like he wanted to protest. But your face, it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t bloodthirsty. It was done. And finally, finally… free.

Before the Game

You kissed Thanos that morning like it was the last time you’d ever breathe. Not rushed. Not panicked. Solemn. Final. Real. His hands cradled your face like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Come back to me,” he whispered. You smiled through it, even as your throat closed. “I’ll try.”

But in your bones, you knew. This time, one of you wouldn’t return.

In the Room of the next game, they strapped you both down without a word. Two chairs. One steel table. No buttons this time. Just restraints. A camera.

And behind each of you, embedded deep in opposite walls, a samurai sword. Clean. Sharp. Gleaming under the clinical light.

Under the table- a lever. Between both of you.

Nam-Gyu laughed nervously when he saw them. “This a joke?” he muttered. “They expect us to fight like this?”

You didn’t answer. Your wrists were bound. One ankle tied. Only your upper body could move. But your eyes… they scanned everything.

The table. The walls. The small mechanical box above your head that hummed like a countdown waiting to scream.

The blades weren’t there to be used. They were there to be earned. You understood instantly. You always understood first.

Then a voice: “Players will engage in a verbal confrontation. Your opponent’s mental and emotional stability will determine the outcome. The one who breaks first— loses. The one who remains in control decide how it ends.”

Nam-Gyu stopped laughing. You smiled. You stared across the table at him. Nam-Gyu looked pale. Sweaty. He smiled at first—weak. Nervous. “This is… fucked, right?” he tried.

You said nothing. He shifted in his seat, tugged at the restraints. “Come on, don’t do this. Let’s think.”

Still nothing. Just eye-contact. His voice sharpened. “You’re not a killer. You never were.”

You tilted your head slightly. Calm. Observing. “Are you trying to reason with me,” you said quietly, “or with yourself?”

He flinched. You let the silence stretch. He laughed—broken, desperate. “This isn’t justice. You’re just angry.”

You leaned forward, voice low, even. “No. I was angry. Now I’m at peace.”

He yanked at the straps again, panic setting in. “There’s got to be a way out. We just—just say sorry, right? We both say sorry.”

You smiled. “Do you remember the girl who begged you?” you said. “Before you slit her throat?”

His breath hitched.

“Do you remember the boy with no weapon? You stabbed him in the back.”

“Stop.”

“You laughed.”

“I said stop!”

You leaned closer. “Why? You don’t like the mirror anymore?”

He went quiet. Chest rising faster. Tears starting in the corners of his eyes. You saw it. The crack. The breaking of what little mask he had left.

“I loved you,” he whispered.

“No,” you said. “You used me. You broke me. And now? You’ll die with that look in your eyes.”

He whimpered. “I don’t want to do this,” he said, voice shaking. “Please. Please. Just—don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything.”

Your eyes didn’t soften. “You fucked me up once,” you said.

He started with pleading. “Listen—baby—”

You scoffed. He flinched. “I know I fucked up. I know I did. But you can’t just sit there like this. You can’t act like I meant nothing to you.”

You tilted your head. “You’re panicking already. That’s adorable.”

“You’re not gonna win this by being cold.”

“Cold?” You blinked slowly. “You ran while I begged for my life.”

He opened his mouth.

“You killed innocents because they looked at you wrong. You kissed me the night before slicing a man’s throat. And you lied every time you said you loved me.”

He slammed his hands against the chair arms. “I did love you!”

“Then you’re worse than I thought,” you said softly.

“What the fuck is this?”

You didn’t answer. You talked. He cracked.

You told him every time you stayed up crying, blaming yourself for his sins. Every time you voted O because he kissed you like he meant it. Every time Thanos held you through the aftermath of something he did. You watched his eyes redden.

“You think I don’t regret it?” he shouted. “You think I wanted this?”

“Doesn’t matter what you wanted,” you said. “It matters what you did.”

He turned back to you—eyes pleading. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you whispered. And for the first time, your voice trembled.

Your lip trembled. Because you meant it. “But I’d rather die than let you be the one to kill me.”

The lights dimmed. Nam-Gyu blinked. “Wait—what? No. Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. And then you leaned forward— Stared him dead in the eyes.

“You don’t get to be the one who ends my story. Now live with your regret the rest of your life, Nam-Gyu. This is the last thing you’ll remember, forever.”

You laugh at him and with one swift kick of your foot— you kicked the lever on under the table.

The mechanism triggered in an instant. The sword behind you unsheathed, dropped with mechanical precision, and a sound like steel screaming. A flash of motion from above. The sword behind you whipped forward—controlled, clean, exact.

And before Nam-Gyu could finish the word “no”— You were gone. Your head fell. A clean, horrifying sever. Blood splattered across the floor, the wall, him. Blood painted the table. Your body slumped, twitching once. Your eyes still open. Still locked on him. Nam-Gyu screamed.

He howled. Grabbed at the restraints like he could rewind the moment. Like he could pull you back. But he felt it the moment your soul left the room.

Eyes locked on the blood. On your body. On the severed look of calm still frozen on your face. He sobbed, shaking, voice cracking as he whispered your name over and over.

But the room was silent again. Cold. Final.

He didn’t breathe. He just saw.

And when he finally realized it— that you meant it, that you’d rather die than let him win, that your last choice in this world was to be the blade that ruined him— he screamed. He screamed like it would bring you back. Screamed like he could stuff the blood back into your veins. Screamed until the guards had to drag him out, shaking and feral, sobbing and broken.

They let him scream. They let him break. Because that was the real prize, wasn’t it?

You didn’t just die. You made him live with the guilt. The silence. The image burned into his skull of the one person who ever loved him— choosing death just to ruin him.

They dragged Nam-Gyu back into the hall screaming. Screaming. Not from pain. From you. “NO—NO—SHE’S NOT DEAD—SHE’S NOT—DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME—”

He was drenched in your blood. Face red, eyes wild, mouth foaming grief he never knew he could feel. He tripped over his own feet, crumpled to the floor. The other players stared in frozen silence.

Nobody spoke. And then— Thanos stood. And something broke in the room. He was always soft. Warm. But now there was nothing left in his eyes.

No kindness. No calm. Just the raw, boiling void of grief. His tray hit the floor. His fists were already clenched. He walked across the room.

Not fast. Not frantic. Like judgment itself. Nam-Gyu didn’t see him at first. He was on his knees, whispering your name in pieces.

And then— Thanos grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him. One arm. Straight up. Against the wall. Nam-Gyu choked on his breath, struggling. “W-What—Thanos—”

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME.” Thanos’ voice wasn’t loud. But it shook the walls. Nam-Gyu sputtered, eyes wide.

“She CHOSE it!” he gasped. “I didn’t—I didn’t kill her—”

“YOU BROKE HER!” And then the first punch landed. A sickening crunch. Nam-Gyu’s nose exploded. Blood smeared across the white wall. He didn’t even scream. Didn’t fight back. Thanos hit him again.

And again.

Fists flying like every word he never said to you was coming out in bone-breaking fury.

“You don’t get to scream her name—”

CRACK.

“You don’t get to beg for her back—”

THUD.

“You let her DIE—you watched her break!”

SMASH.

The guards surged forward but the others didn’t move. Even the remaining players—some broken, some dead-eyed—just watched.

Because every one of them knew: This was earned.

Finally, the guards got their hands on Thanos. Pulled him off. His breath heaved. His hands dripped with someone else’s blood.

But his eyes? His eyes stayed locked on Nam-Gyu—slumped against the wall, face shattered, sobbing, broken.

“She was mine,” Thanos whispered. “Not to own. Not to use. To protect. To love. And you took her from me.”

Nam-Gyu sobbed harder. But Thanos didn’t look at him again.

He looked down. At the blood on his knuckles. At the trail you left behind. And for the first time since your death— He finally let himself cry.

It had been over an hour. The others moved around in silence—eating, drinking, whispering in corners. But Thanos hadn’t moved once. He was crouched in your bed. His broad frame curled small, elbows on his knees, head bowed over where you used to sleep.

He hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t blinked in minutes.

Just sat there, fingers wrapped around the edge of your blanket like it was the only thread left tying him to reality.

You’d curled up in this spot so many nights. You’d pulled him in, whispered stupid jokes, traced his jawline with lazy fingers.

It still smelled like you. Still felt like you. He sat there like maybe—if he stayed long enough—he’d hear your laugh again.

And then— Bootsteps.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t care. But they stopped in front of him.

A pause. Then—softly—something landed beside him on the bed.

A necklace. Yours. Your favorite one. The one you wore even under your jumpsuit. The one you once told him you’d never take off, “not even in hell.”

Now it was bloodied. The chain soaked through. The charm dented, a tiny crack running through the metal where it had hit the floor. But it was still yours. Thanos reached for it slowly, like it might vanish.

He picked it up. Turned it in his palm. Stared. And something in him finally broke. Not with a sob. Not with a scream. Just a slow, crumbling exhale. “…She wore it every day,” he whispered.

The guard who stood there didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just bowed his head. Not low. Not formal. Just enough.

Like a man offering respect. Like someone who understood—this wasn’t a punishment anymore.

This was mourning. Thanos nodded once, barely able to say the words.

“Thank you.”

The guard left. And Thanos?

He stayed there. Holding the necklace to his lips. Whispering your name like a prayer he’d say every day for the rest of his life.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

[corpseontheloose]

TWICE THE FALL

nam-gyu x f!reader

Synopsis: The games came to an end when the majority vote went to X after the mingle game. Your time in the game had been a tricky one — teamed with Thanos and his crew. Despite you voting O, you soon came to realise that being home was better than there, with those people - your life on the line. You had no intention of seeing anyone from there again. Not till one night, you go out with your friends clubbing. Familiar faces set off a feeling you didn’t realise you had.

Warnings drug use, threats, mentions of blood & violence, SMUT!!!!!, f1ngering, dry humping, minors do not interact. +18!!!!!!!!

Adjusting to real life was harder than you anticipated. Though you had only spent at least 4 days in the game, you grew accustomed to it quickly. The concept of your life on the line had been normalised - especially in your group. Thanos, Namgyu — the rest, but they were the worst. Not that they ever tried anything harmful — not toward you, but witnessing them doing that to other people with batting an eye? It set you up in a constant paranoia. So after the mingle game, the vote won to leave. It was strange really. An excitement had grew in you at the idea of coming home - till you remembered there wasn’t much to come back to.

You’d been home now for at least a month.

In the quiet.

You were finding it hard to adjust to the idea of not being afraid all the time. Not having to life your life on the edge — not having to flinch like you did whenever Thanos would shout something absurd down your ear. You hadn’t even socialised. Hadn’t hardly left the house unless it was to work. You realised you’d actually felt more when you were in the game.

That was enough for you to try and kick your own ass back to reality.

You called a friend that same day at the consequence of an ear full from her. Invading questions about where you had been, why you hadn’t been in touch. You made up a lame excuse, knowing they wouldn’t believe you even if you tried. You didn’t want to risk loosing your friends on the outside. The risk of looking insane.

You were sure every one else you met in the game had decided to keep it quiet too.

She invited you to the club that night with the rest of the friend group. You took some convincing but in the end you could hardly resist the urge for a drink - to unwind. So you join them.

The club is bouncing. The vibrations of loud electronic and dance music thrumming into your ears like a drill. You didn’t mind it - in fact after a few drinks you found yourself truly relaxing into it. It reminded you of old times, your old self. Your friends stuck in a group — by the bar as they barked everyone’s drink order over the loud music.

“And then I told him to fuck off!” Your friend shouts over the music to you before you both crumble into a synced laugh - gripping each other. She had a lot to catch you up on - life, work, boy drama.

“Fuck!” You shout, wiping a laughed out tear from the corner of your eye. “I missed this, missed you guys.” You say, softly bouncing your body to the beating music. She grips your forearm, squeezing.

“And to think you weren’t gonna come tonight! Tonight’s a big fucking deal!” She replies, and you process her words - your smile still remaining though. Why was tonight such a big deal? You only stare at her expectingly. She stares back until she realises you don’t know what she’s talking about.

Her mount falls open, a shocked laugh barking it’s way out and into your face.

“Shit! Dannie didn’t tell you?”

You just laugh, shaking your head.

She presses her lips together as if she can’t wait any longer to tell you - her eyes lighting up.

“So you don’t know who’s coming here tonight?” She shouts - the suspense of her reply very slowly starting to agitate you. You’re impatient like that. “Everyone knows! Why’d you think it’s so fucking packed in here?” She shouts again, laughing at you now - signalling around the room to the hordes of dancing people. You did think it was busy for a Thursday night. You can’t help the growing twitch in your smile — irritated.

You take ahold of her hand and squeeze it softly, lowering your head a little closer to her so you don’t have to shout over the music.

“Spit it out.” You say, still amused but your annoyance evidential on the last word.

“Thanos!”

You freeze, your grin stuck in position on your face. She takes your unexcited response and thinks you’re unsure as to who that is. How wrong she is.

“The Thanos? The rapper?” She says, her words intending to re jog your memory.

Your heart leaps a little before it comes crashing down into the pit of your stomach. Suddenly feeling small despite the size of the room — like the walls are sinking in and swallowing you whole. Absolute dread. Your friends bats her eyes at you, confused by your silence.

“Y/n. Don’t tell me you don’t know him — he’s a celebrity.” Her tones faded a little, completely dumbfounded.

A hitch in your breath stalls your reply — blinking yourself back into the room, forcing yourself to smile more - not wanting to look weird. To make her question you.

“Oh!” Is all you can manage, your impending apprehension not allowing you to form a normal human response. You hadn’t even heard of Thanos before the games - though you put two and two together when he would burst out into a random rap to woo you. Your impression on him strictly based off what you saw in the games. Nothing good. Yes, he protected you — he stuck by that, but it didn’t matter much. You’d seen everyone else get the brunt of his and Namgyu’s insanity.

Your friend furrows her brows despite her wide smile. She goes to speak before her head flips left, drawn to the sudden crowding and loud excitement by the entrance of the club.

“Oh my god.” She says bluntly, her head turning to you before turning back to the crowd.

“It’s him!” She squeals loudly, catching your wrist in a vice like grip. “Come with me — if you don’t know him then at least you can get a picture of me and him for me!” You’re quick to protest but she’s quicker - yanking you toward the crowd with her.

As you get closer, so does your anxiety. Snapping down onto you with it’s jaws — a churning in your stomach so sickening that you swear you could throw it up. You want to yank your wrist away - run home and forget everything. Forget the games - Thanos. You came out to drink and forget yet here you are, your friend hurdling you both toward the nightmare you wanted to so badly forget.

She forces your bodies through the crowd until you come to an abrupt halt at the inner circle - jolting your body to a stop.

And there he is. Surrounded by a bodyguard or two, his arm lazyily slung around a girl that clings to his waist like an accessory. His expression smug at the people begging for photographs — pleading for his number, his autograph. He always loved the attention you remember. His hairs still the same you note - wearing an oversized purple graphic tee - jeans, some loose chains and that dammed fucking cross.

Still hanging from his neck like a palace jewel.

You almost choke on the breath you try to take. Unable to stabilise your unease which only worsens as you stare at him. You want to leave.

But the insecurity of disappointing your friend & your alarm towards him keeps your feet glued to the spot. Maybe if you stay still enough, he won’t spot you. That is until your friends lunges toward him - her hands clutching onto his arm. Now feeling more sick that you had originally.

You can’t hear what she’s saying to him over the obnoxious volume of music, you’re almost grateful for that. You shift your feet then slightly - regaining movement in them when you see he’s too occupied talking to your friend. You want to take the chance to disappear till you feel a set of eyes burning into you - but it isn’t Thanos’.

Your eyes simply slip to the right of Thanos and next to him stood Namgyu. His eyes pinned to you. You instantly feel like you’ve been caught red handed for a crime you didn’t commit - the intensity of his stare and the surprise of not expecting him causing your mouth to fall agape.

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse. It just did.

Despite Thanos’ obvious insanity - Namgyu was just as cold. The strong and silent type. You feared him more. He’s dressed in all black - long sleeves rolled up to his elbows which reveal his tattoos - a tiny chain looping his neck, a myriad of rings shared between his fingers. His hairs the same too - neatly tucked behind his ears.

It almost scares you how casual they look. Any average person wouldn’t assume their capabilities and you felt alone knowing their true selves. How easy it had been for them to take a life to save their own.

You’re unable to look away - like his eyes had their own gravitational pull. You just return his stare - like you’re pleading with him with your wide eyes to ever forget he saw you. A silent interaction. You should’ve known better than to expect him to actually do you a favour.

His stare stays on you as he leans up into Thanos’ ear, seeing him mutter something. At the same time, your friend shoves her phone into your hands.

“Is it cool if my friends takes a photo of us?” She beams at him, returning back to his side — Thanos’ eyes finally acknowledging you as soon as Namgyu pulls back.

“This your friend?” Thanos shouts over the music to your friend, bending his arm upward to point a lazy finger at you. A soft smirk cranks the corner of his lip upward.

You want the ground to swallow you up.

You want to disappear.

You simply clutch onto her phone tightly like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Your friends expression fades seeing his attention go to you but she’s quick at working to reclaim it - taking his arm in her hold again.

“Yeah — she’s gonna snap a pic for me.” She says, before turning to you and posing. Thanos doesn’t even bother to pose — his sights still boring through your eyes and into your fucking soul. Namgyu’s staring at you with an expecting stare - almost waiting for you to make a move - intrigued to see if you can keep your cool around her.

His eyes almost daring you to kick up a fuss and expose them for what they really are.

You’re absent minded as you point the phone and spam your thumb on the camera button — taking enough photos so that your friend wouldn’t bother you to take a few more. A second later your friends leaping up slightly and clapping before snatching her phone of you and turning to him in thanks.

The music drowns out all sound as you take a step backward. Their sights on you still - almost threateningly. But you had no interest in sticking around. Your backward steps leave room for people to push their way in front of you - and a second later they’re out of your sight.

You rush to the bathroom.

Finding solace in the end stall as you try to steady your now panicked breathing. It’s like every memory of the game came rushing back within a second — completely overwhelming you. Images of blood — bodies, drugs.

“Fuck.” You hiss, noticing the tremble in your hands as you clutch them together. Maybe you hadn’t realised how badly the games had impacted you — but what made you feel sick above all things, the one thing that worried you to your core?

You found a comfort in their presence.

Maybe it’s a trauma thing.

Maybe not. You didn’t know. But one thing you did know is that you had to calm the fuck down. You suck in a harsh, deep breath and steady yourself.

You couldn’t let them ruin the debut of your new life.

Not even a second later, you’re storming through the dancing crowds - not bothering to notice that the crowd around the pair had died down as everyone went back to their dancing. You had no sights on your friends — probably deep into the club, enjoying themselves as they should. You hit the bar hands first, grabbing the counter as you lean to ask for a shot.

The bartender nods once and prepares it.

You don’t even realise how hard you’re gripping the bar side - your knuckles white - determined to get a drink down your neck and join your friends.

The shots placed in front of you and you instinctively stick out your card to pay but the bartender puts his hands up.

“It’s paid for.” Is all he says with a smile before heading down to serve the next person.

You watch him as he walks away, confused. Yet your questioning is instantly put to rest as you catch the colour purple out the corner of your eye. You don’t even bother to look. If you do, it just makes it real. You pick up the shot bravely and chuck it back, feeling the warm bitterness slide down your throat - you hiss softly, placing the glass down.

“Good?” Thanos’ voice cuts through the music. You decide to treat his question like a passing breeze - completely ignoring it - but not before shooting him a hard stare. He looks at you, helplessly amused by your coldness. You turn your head away and don’t even get two steps before you bump into Namgyu’s chest. His hands instantly find your shoulders, caressing them up and down condescendingly.

“Woah, woah. What’s the rush?” Namgyu says, expression blank as he crowds you - giving you nowhere to go but to step backward and sit back into the bar stool next to Thanos with a thump - back pressing into the hard wood of the bar behind you. You peer up at him, brows furrowed in defeat. You don’t keep your eyes on him for long though. Normally he doesn’t do the talking - so you look to your side at Thanos. He’s staring at you with upturned brows in exaggerated disappointment.

You simply glare and wait.

“Now this isn’t any way to treat your friends, is it?” He finally says, pitifully offended.

You decide not to reply to the obscure question. The three of you were hardly friends, then again - in his twisted mind, he probably thought you were. You just want to go. Your patience already warning thin.

You scowl, gathering all your confidence as you look away and go to stand but Namgyu clamps a hand down on your shoulder — his free hand flicking open a switchblade just inches from your face. A little closer and it would’ve trimmed your eyelashes. It’s a silent threat — your eyes landing on it as it’s metal winks sweetly at you in the clubs purple hues.

Your eyes scatter across the club — instantly hoping someone would notice your predicament. People just dance, sloppily fallen into one another — too intoxicated to even bat an eye. A soft huff leaves your nose — defeated before you look back to the knife, then to Namgyu who’s now smiling cockily at you.

“You gonna play nice?” Namgyu remarks, and gives you a moment to contemplate your next move. You could try and leave again - but you’re smarter than that. A knife in your back would be the equivalent of someone being passed out drunk here. He feels you settle back into the bar stool and takes your silence as obedience.

His smile splits wider, a little hum - pleased, erupting from his throat. He gives your cheek a little squeeze which makes you make a displeased noise as you yank your face out his grip. He’s flicking the knife away and pocketing it the next second.

Your eyes shut in brief relief.

“Y/n.”

Thanos’ voice comes again, pleading out your name to grab your proper attention this time. You realise you can’t exactly work your way out of this — so you give in, for now. You turn your head to him, your eyes opening.

“Answer my question, please.” He whines out, his tone hitting your ears in all the wrong ways.

You lock your jaw at him - your facial muscles visibly flexing from the intensity of irritation.

“We’re not friends.” Is all you reply with. You swear you see a glint of disappointment in his eyes.

He sighs softly, expelling it through his nose as he cranes his head over his shoulder and holds up three fingers to the bartender. Your eyes flicker back to Namgyu, his expression still cocky. You swallow hard — unable to resist mentally noting how good he looked. The thought didn’t last long though as you feel Thanos spin the base of your chair around to face the bar - your hands falling flat against the wood to stabilise the spinny chair.

You watch the bartender pour three shots. Colourful ones. Very in character to Thanos. You gulp hard, eyes flickering to Thanos who’s already smiling at you. You feel Namgyu shift to lean against the bar to the right of you - one forearm against the bar, his other hand holding the back of your chair - now sandwiched in between them both.

“Señorita.” Thanos says quirkily, taking a shot and holding it out to you. You consider it a second too long before he’s already shoving it into your hand - some spilling over the tip of the glass and over your fingers from the force of it. You grimace. He takes his own then, Namgyu following suit.

You stare down, trying to piece together exactly what their play is here. You already considered intimidation, but now Thanos is buying you drinks - which you don’t mind all that much. Drink is drink, but still.

Reluctantly, you’re first to shot it. You hear Namgyu and Thanos doing the same then, their glasses hitting the bar a second later.

You side eye Thanos, watching him take a second to recover from the shot as he sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. Were you done? Could you go now?

“Okay.” He breathes out, looking to you and offering you a smile before he stands up out the chair. You can’t even look up at him before he’s clamping his hand around your upper arm - yanking you out the seat.

“We’re gonna find somewhere a little more private.” He says, leaning down to whisper that to you - his grip on you implying a lingering threat.

“Kay?”

You simply glare up at him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Thanos sticks his bottom lip out, “Don’t worry, Namgyu’s coming too.” he says, lifting his chin to point toward Namgyu who’s behind you.

“I got weed too.” You hear Namgyu say behind you, chirping up. You keep your narrowed eyes up at Thanos.

“See? He’s got weed too.” Thanos says characteristically, as though Namgyu having weed would somehow sway you into going. You scoff in his face.

“I said no.”

Thanos doesn’t take his eyes off you as Namgyu shifts behind you. You feel him place his hand on your back which causes you to freeze up.

“Relax,” Namgyu says, drawling out the word slowly, his hand stroking your back up and down as though to reassure you. You shoot your eyes to him - he’s smiling slightly, though you could see the wickedness peeking through his eyes. That was the thing with them two. The pair mask themselves too well - any normal person would assume they were caring, thoughtful even. But you knew every smile they give you, every seemingly innocent touch - like Namgyu’s hand on your back - was laced with threat and intimidation.

“We need to talk, okay?” Namgyu continues, and despite his tone lingering on the edge of mockery, you can believe that he means what he says. He’s much better at conveying things than Thanos who’s completely drugged out of his mind. You look back to Thanos.

He gives you a boyish, hopeful smile.

You sigh, dropping your shoulders. The quicker you agree and have that talk, the quicker it’ll be over and done with.

“Okay.” You agree.

The pair hasn’t split from you the entire way to a quiet room. Thanos’ hand on your wrist pulling you along. Namgyu’s hand flat against the middle of your back, enticing you forward. You had forgotten Namgyu had been a promoter at this club - which meant he knew all the right people, all the right quiet spots. Thanos shoots his head over and beckons Namgyu to go ahead and open the door, which he does - always the obedient type when it came to his good friend.

It wasn’t anything special. Two couches - a bar rack or two, a few beer kegs lying around with a tv up on the wall. Looked like a bougie staff room. Thanos beckons his hand toward one of the couches, so you do just that. You sink into it - surprised by its comfiness despite your inability to relax when you see Namgyu lock the door. They join you not a second after, the pair sitting next to each other on the couch directly opposite you.

It’s quiet between the three of you. Only the vague thrumming of the music outside which is now numbed by the walls of the staff room. Thanos still mindlessly thumps his head to the beat of it though.

“Y/n,” Thanos breaks the silence with your name, leaning forward in his chair - it’s leather creaking loudly under his movement.

“Do you believe in divine intervention?”

Namgyu already rolls his eyes at him, now sinking into the seat and pinching the skin on the bridge of his nose. Looking like he’s heard this a thousand times before — like he’s way too tired to call bullshit. Thanos is the open minded type. Namgyu, not so much.

You’re alike with Namgyu in that way, which is apparent as you snort a laugh at Thanos.

“What — like, a higher power?” You say slowly, amused — your mind wondering ahead as you try to figure out where he’s going with this ridiculous approach. Thanos smiles slowly, nodding his head, “Exactly.”

“I’ve been looking for you. The rest of our group too — wanted to rekindle on the outside, you know? And here you are.” He beckons his hands out toward you, giddy. You simply quirk a brow.

“Divine intervention. Fascinating, right?”

You cut him off with ease, “Drop the act. You just want to intimidate us into not running our mouths.”

His mouth stills, open. Your reply catching Namgyu’s attention as he slowly pulls his fingers from his face, eyes locking onto you. Your eyes dart between them both - you had no time for his lies or manipulation. He’s trying to sweeten you up - thinking you’re stupid enough to believe his crap. You want them to know that you know their game, and that you won’t be playing it.

“Right?” You say, stern.

A scoffed laugh leaves Thanos, impressed to say the least. You understand he’s got a career - a status, a version of himself to uphold. You also understand why he wants to protect that, but by finding you all and bullying you to silence for his benefit? It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. The same with Namgyu too. You’d both seen them murder people, meaning you’re a loose end to them.

A grin raises the left corner of Thanos mouth, squinting one eye as he points a finger at you.

“You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? Here I thought you were just another pushover.” He analyses through restricted laughs. His hands slap down onto his knees suddenly as he stands.

“Well, may as well cut to the chase.” He says, plonking himself down on the sofa next to you. Clearly inconsiderate toward the concept of personal space. You exhale, already tired of this situation. Your eyes settle ahead - onto Namgyu, deciding you could tolerate Thanos as long as you didn’t look at him.

Thanos brings his face close to the side of your head, breath hot against your neck.

“I - we,” He pauses, extending a palm to Namgyu who you’re still staring at, “We need to feel confident in knowing you can keep your mouth shut about our little escapade together a few weeks ago.” He mutters, tone laced with a bit more sincerity now as he refers to the games. In fact, you know he doesn’t care if you talk about the games — you know that’s he’s referring to what you had witnessed.

Both of their actions - their murderous capabilities.

Your mouth twitches, now realising you have something over them. They’re concerned that you could taint their reputations. In fairness, you hadn’t even considered it. But there’s something satisfying about having that leverage on them that just tickles your mind in all the right ways. A one sided smirk paints your face.

“You’re murderers.” You say with a new found confidence and you see Namgyu straighten in his seat - on edge, as though his suspicions on you ratting were coming to a slow reality. Thanos is grabbing your chin in a second, forcing you to look at him — he looks disgusted that you would even say that, comically so considering that he is exactly what you accuse him to be.

“How could you say that, huh? We protected you in there — right, Namgyu?”

“Fucking right.” You hear Namgyu mutter in response, but his voice is coming from behind you now. You hadn’t even seen Namgyu get out of his seat — now feeling the couch beside you sinking as he settles there, pressing his chest into your back. Yet again, sandwiched.

You laugh once through your nose at them, glaring into Thanos’ eyes — his grip on your chin discomforting.

You’re not stupid. You know that in the games it was kill or be killed. That sacrifices had to be made. Most of the time, his and Namgyu’s actions strictly followed that principle. It’s the fact that they enjoyed it. Laughed about it — not even batting an eye when discarding someone else’s life. You had wondered when it would’ve been your turn.

You feel the tips of Namgyu’s fingers skimming your bare shoulder, dancing across the skin there before they’re replaced by his chin - settling his head onto your shoulder with a comfy hum.

“You should be thanking us.” Namgyu says into your ear, the proximity of his voice causing a cold shiver across your body. Thanos nods, the disgusted look on his face still remaining.

“Exactly right — shit, when did you get so ungrateful, y/n?” Thanos asks, pinching your chair harder - your strong facade starting to slightly waver at the rising proximity of them both. The need to escape this situation only grew stronger now — not that you’re afraid, but the tension in the room had grown thicker — a tension you didn’t know existed until Namgyu locked that fucking door.

Shamefully, you were enjoying this.

Being sandwiched by them. The warmth of Namgyu’s body heat pressing into your back — the way Thanos can’t help his eyes darting down to your mouth though he try’s to appear intimidating. It’s daunting and extremely testing. All the while making you feel like you’d lost all your self respect. It’s something you couldn’t let yourself succumb to.

So you pick the easier option.

“I won’t say anything.” You simply say, spitting out your words like you’re shocked that they thought you ever would.

“Fucking right you won’t.” Thanos bites out as he releases your chin backward harshly, your body weight falling back into Namgyu’s chest - you see it as a chance to leave, but Namgyu’s already looping his arm around your torso and softly pulling your back against his chest. Thanos is standing the next minute, pacing the room once or twice in thought — probably wondering whether to take your word, if he could trust you.

The drugs have obviously raised his paranoia.

He shoots a look at you — his brows comically curved downward in distain. You can’t help your smug expression.

He snaps then, again - bending over you and pointing in your face.

“You better not tell those pig cops a fucking thing —”

You don’t let him finish, deciding to finish this quick.

“With what fucking evidence, Thanos?” You slur out, your tone slipping into a mockery as you say his ridiculous name.

Was he that fucking high? Even if you wanted to rat them out, how could you? There wouldn’t be a slither of evidence to prove it. You’d just have to live with the knowledge. Your common sense plunges his live wire brain into silence for a fleeting moment.

You watch the realisation set on this face. It’s slow but incoming. A second later - his anger bleeds away, his frown now bleeding into a wide smile. You just clench your jaw at him - unimpressed. So unbothered that you’d even settled nicely against Namgyu’s chest - his fingers playing with the ends of your hair not even remotely a bother to you.

A soft exhale leaves Thanos’ now wide grin. A realising one. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

You want to tell him it’s because the drugs are frying his brain but you choose to hold your tongue.

He laughs right in your face then — not even realising his own stupidity. Too fucking high to comprehend common sense. He runs his hands through his hair frantically as he steps back, overjoyed. Feeling like he’d won.

“Ohhh, y/n — this calls for celebration.” He says before bending down close to you again, prodding his index finger into your forehead, pushing your head back so it rests back on Namgyu’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna stay right here while I get us some drinks, okay?” He says, condescendingly.

“Namgyu will take good care of you — won’t you boy!” He shouts to him before straightening up and heading out the room - the door briefly letting in the loud music before it slams shut behind him. You shut your eyes for a moment and you breathe a sigh of relief. As though a disaster had been completely diverted — realising his junkie brain could’ve settled on killing you even before thinking about the obvious.

A silence sits in the air.

“You know I told that fucking bastard the same shit you just did.”

Namgyu says from behind you — his tone surprisingly bitter when addressing Thanos. Almost as if a facade had dropped without his presence in the room. You decide not to reply — intrigued, feeling as Namgyu’s fingers continue their pursuit through your hair, fiddling - toying. He’d always been the touchy type.

“Told him that there wouldn’t be any evidence whether you ratted or not.”

You simply stay still against him — the urge to look over your shoulder and read his expression becoming more alluring. You hadn’t been exposed to this dynamic — the insecure side of Namgyu. Fuck, you didn’t even know he had it. Especially against Thanos.

You hear him scoff as a hand slopes down your neck, his index and middle finger catching under your chin and stroking the skin there.

“No, he only seems to listen to pretty girls.“

He pry’s your head back and over your shoulder to face him with his two fingers then, a soft tsk leaving his pouting lip as his eyes set on you.

You stare up at him — completely fixed on his gaze. Fixated on his softened tone whenever Thanos isn’t around, like he lets his soft spot for you seep through his hardened edges. You can practically feel his insecurity vibrating off him like live wire. An underlying anger that would soon enough boil to the surface, eventually thrashing out — it’s obvious he hate’s people walking over him.

Being made to feel idiotic.

You can’t help but pity him a little. Just a little, you promise yourself. Anymore than that and you’d start to worry about your sanity. You stare up at him, too concerned to speak but your lips are already parting before you can tell yourself not to.

“He looks down on you.” Your voice comes out in a shattered whisper, as though you know you’re crossing the line just by commenting on it. It’s not that you intend to steer his mind, but in reality you understood his mindset. His expression runs cold the moment you speak though and the next, he’s lifting you off him and throwing you to the other end of the couch.

The soft leather welcomes you though. You simply look over at him, bracing your hands on the couch to lift yourself up - he’s shoving his hand into his pocket, muttering to himself as he pulls out a small bag of pills.

You watch his fingers fiddle with the small packet, greedily sticking his hands in to seize a little blue pill.

“What’s that?” You ask sheepishly. He doesn’t reply - he just slips back onto the couch, pops one into his mouth - the sound of him crunching down on it was the only reply you got. You just gulp down hard, not wanting to push it but you can’t help but watch him - seeing how quickly the drug took effect by the way his shoulders drop in ease. The way the corner of his mouth slightly twitches upward - pleased.

It’s like watching someone breathe their first breath of air.

You pull your eyes away.

They flash to the door. You should leave.

“It helps.” You hear him say then, his voice a little more relaxed and unguarded from before. Your curiosity is a killer, turning your gaze back toward him. His head slants over to you, limp and he blinks his way into a very small smile. You only wonder what he’s feeling.

“What does it do?” You ask, your voice a little bolder upon seeing him more relaxed.

Namgyu inhales through his nose, his eyes creeping up to the ceiling in brief thought before they drag back onto you.

“Makes you forget. Makes you feel strong, you know?” He says, a proud gleam on his face.

You didn’t know. You couldn’t so easily forget, but god, you wanted to. That’s why you came tonight. To drink all the shit away. The games - the trauma, all that blood. Your throat runs a little dry as you drop your eyes. You’d taken drugs in college, a bit of everything really. You dabbled. But you never got yourself hooked like the way him and Thanos had.

They used it like oxygen, and now you’re eyeing the pill packet that’s slack in his fingers like a quick fix.

You swallow hard.

“Can I try?” You ask, too busy eyeing the packet to see the way a crooked grin slips onto his face. You hear him scoff a laugh which makes you look back up at him though.

“What?” You almost snap, your tone immediately defensive. He blinks at you, his grin still plastered onto his face.

“You couldn’t handle it.” He says, but his tone implies that he’s almost daring you. You blink at him, then back down to the packet. You were somewhat timid in the games — quiet. You had been too afraid to even form a sentence most times. Maybe that’s why he’s surprised that you’re asking this of him. You don’t know, but you don’t ask again.

You look away.

You hear him sigh. Then the creaking of leather.

“C’mere.” He says, so you look at him. He’s still sunk into the couch but he’s moved his arm out as if to invite you in. You simply stare. But he’s impatient.

“Quick before I change my mind.”

You move closer to him as though in autopilot. Without a second thought - as though your sensibility had slipped away upon invite. Shuffling down the couch till you’re shoulder to shoulder with him now. You hear a hum in his throat as you settle next to him, as if your warmth was almost a pleasure.

You watch as he dips his finger into the packet again, prying out another blue one, pinching it between thumb and index. It’s in your palm the next second and you can only stare down at it. You feel his eyes burning into the side of your head.

This tiny little blue pill. You know you shouldn’t. You know it isn’t the answer.

But it’s in your mouth the next second, sitting on your tongue softly inside your mouth. You suck on it a little, it doesn’t taste good. He stares at you intensely, as though boyishly excited.

“Don’t suck it,” Namgyu says, twisting his body toward you as he slings an arm around you, bringing his face in a little closer - just to guide you through it.

“Chew it.” He brings his fingers to his mouth as to action you, fingers covering his grin, nibbling ever so slightly on some skin there. He’s watching you like you’re some sort of fascination, like you’re the only woman in the world. You lock your eyes with his, and then crunch. The sound brings a little smile to his face. You smile back a little.

You don’t know how long it’s been.

Thanos still hasn’t come back. Probably moved on to the next thing to obsess over. Maybe some fans, maybe a girl. You didn’t know - fuck, you didn’t care. In fact, there isn’t much thought in your mind at all.

Your heads resting on Namgyu’s thighs, your eyes upward at the ceiling. He’s sat back, looking up too — his fingers softly running though your hair. There’s a comfortable silence between you both. Not in a million years would you have expected to be laying like this, with him. So peacefully.

“Fuck.” You softly whisper. And that’s all.

“Good shit, huh?” You hear, which causes a lazy smile to sit on your face. It was. A white ceiling hadn’t ever been more hypnotic. You don’t even know how long you’d been laying there, staring upward. The room felt more tighter, more warm. The music blasting outside the door had become nothing less than soft hum falling onto deaf ears.

It’s all hazed. Numbed. Feeling as though you’d been struck by lightning and somehow miraculously survived. Living in an aftershock, your skin prickling with false electricity.

“I feel so — heightened.” You say softly, settling on that word like it was the only way to describe what you’re feeling. Not like you needed to describe it to Namgyu anyway, this was like a walk in the park for him.

You hear him hum in agreement before his fingers leave your hair to ever so discreetly travel the pads of his fingertips down your cheek - testing your words, seeing how you respond to the feeling. Despite the delicacy of his touch, it feels like you’d fell into a bed of roses — a soft tickle, like an electric shock - but a nice one. Feeling it so strongly that your eyes flutter closed and back open on impact, enjoying it.

“Feels good, right?” He says, his half lidded eyes now looking down at you in curiosity. He sees the twitch in your smile — the way your eyes close, the slack in your shoulders as you relax against him. He’d always been attracted to you — and you, him. You’d felt attracted to him even during the games, shamefully so. Though you’re the stubborn type. The type to mistrust your own feelings - the type of person who denies a slice of cake, no matter how much they want it. Like you had done with him.

You told yourself no, over and over. Like he’s forbidden fruit.

But the way his fingers caress your cheek like your made out of china glass? You’re not even second guessing your feelings. You just let yourself enjoy it. Enjoy being close to him. No longer an overthinking nag in you’re head telling you that this is wrong.

You open your eyes and tilt your head to look up at him. His palm flattens against the curve of your face as you do - the cold of his rings kissing your skin.

You both stay like that for awhile, staring at one another - almost as though you’re both acknowledging exactly how the other feels - and finding a satisfaction in it. Both so blissfully unaware. Just being able to shut the fuck up and enjoy the impending quiet.

You eyes go to close again, but his hand pats your cheek softly.

“Keep ‘em open.” He mutters.

So you do. The next second he’s carrying his finger tips across your cheek again - as though he just likes the satisfied look on your face. Like he enjoys knowing you’re feeling good under his touch. He slips his fingers down and across your jaw - achingly slow, causing a bristle of goosebumps to prickle your skin. Your mouth twitches again.

He’s deadpan, only his lips are slightly parted - as though he’s analysing every crevice of your face, every dimple - every soft spot. You eyes dare to flutter closed, but you keep them open for him.

His fingers carry on as they graze over your chin, across — but come back on themselves. He tucks the rest of his fingers away, folding them under your chin - only now, the pad of his thumb as it comes to graze your bottom lip.

Your breath hitches to a halt deep in your chest.

You can’t look away. The intimacy of such a simple graze enough to send your heart fluttering wildly against your ribs.

His next words cut through the thick silence like a knife through butter.

“You ever made out while high before?’ He mutters lowly, his thumb now still on your bottom lip.

Fuck.

You can’t even find your words. Trying to form a sensible reply in your head, now an impossible task. All you can think about is how you now know he wants to kiss you — and that you want him to.

“No.” You manage, your voice slightly strained.

“Feel s’good.” He says, his reply as casual as it would be in any normal conversation.

You don’t even know how to reply. You’re simply shocked by his forwardness, his inability to feel shy or ashamed. A skill you wish you had inherited. But you feel it buried deep then - an urge inside you screaming at you, tugging at your vocal cords.

You didn’t know if it was the drugs.

Or maybe some new found confidence. But your next words fall out your mouth so easily that you even shock yourself.

“Can you show me?” You ask, bluntly.

You watch as his jaw tightens, the muscle underneath twitching his skin. An eagerness melting into his expression as quick as you had asked. It’s something about the way you asked for it. Asked him. Not Thanos, not some prick you could’ve been dancing with tonight. Him. It’s like a validation — like he’d been recognised, like you trusted him enough to do it despite how much of a prick he can be.

Even earlier when he threw you off him as soon as you tried to sympathise with him. You could’ve left — shit, he would’ve let you. But you stayed. You chose that — chose to get high. With him.

There’s something about that.

About you.

It strikes him deep in his chest. You can tell by the look on his face as he nods slowly.

“Yeah. C’mere — sit up for me.” He says, a new found gentleness in his tone — like he’s taking on a mantle of taking care of you. You want him to make you feel good. He takes that seriously.

You sit up slowly, an excitement twisting your stomach as you keep your eyes on his. The feeling that you were gonna burst if you held in your resistance much longer. He pats your thigh so you lift it slightly, giving him room as he scoops his hand under — lifting you onto his lap to straddle him.

“There you go.” He coaxes, shifting in his seat to help you get comfy.

Your dress rides up a little as you settle on him, stopping on your higher thighs, clinging to you perfectly. You see him as he watches that — his half lidded eyes unblinking as he huffs softly out his plump lips. Your breath comes out in ragged waves, incapable of calming the exhilaration now building in your chest. You can practically hear your own heartbeat — and you’re so close to him now that you even worry he can hear it too.

His hands settle on your knees first before they slide up your thighs and stop halfway. He squeezes them ever so slightly - eyes watching your reaction like a hawk as you press your lips tight, eyes closing briefly.

He doesn’t do anything else. He just watches you, scanning you — overly aware of how your senses had just spiked. You simply look back then — waiting in anticipation, but you’re waiting a second too long. You realise he’s waiting for you. You did ask after all.

You gulp down the dryness in your throat, dropping your eyes down as his tongue darts out lap his lips slightly. And before you know it, you’re leaning in.

He does to.

Meeting halfway as your lips press together once - softly.

It’s a short lived kiss as you both pull slightly back — still hovering near though.

The contact of that first one had been enough to send your heart plummeting into your stomach. Sending a jolt straight into your pussy — with one mean throb.

He leans in for another — your lips simply connecting again, before pulling away. And then another, and another. Each one just lingering a little longer that the last. By the next one, it’s more inviting, mouths a little wider as your lips greet with a little more edge - an eagerness. Like all you had needed was a second to adjust to one another. A second the adjust to the growing throb in between your legs.

Your lips smush together as the need grows. Both your breaths growing harsh as they expel through your noses. Your lips smearing against one another’s and you both open your mouths in sync - tongues slipping out to clash softly, wetly. The sensation of it pulling out a slow moan from your throat.

He tightens his grip on your thighs hearing that.

Confirming in his head that you feel good. And that it’s all because of him.

One hand slips up your thigh, before sliding all the way up your back - until he reaches the back of your neck, where he grips - tight.

Another moans slips out of you and straight into his mouth.

His tongue laps against yours, swirling — sucking, both your spits mixing together deliciously. The sound of it alone is vulgar — in all the right ways. You need to breathe but he’s got a vice grip on your neck — keeping you there, kissing him. It only makes you breathe harder through your nose, making you more eager as you really lean into the kiss, titling your head - forcing his head back and into the couch as you do. Inviting yourself further in.

It’s messy.

But fuck. He was right.

The drug you’re both on heightened things. Sensations — the kiss. Your skin red hot — pricking alive with goosebumps that ripple across your body like wild fire. So intense that you’re riving against him - chest to chest, your thighs clamping around his hips. The pair of you like animals — starved ones, who’ve finally got their pound of flesh.

It was supposed to just be a make out sesh.

Something timid and sloppy while you both ride out your high.

But you can feel his hardened cock through his jeans against your clothed pussy. It’s like an instinct as you sit on it, grinding down hard — rocking slowly forward in one mean swipe. He’s tangling his hand in your hair the next second and yanking your head back — the separation of the kiss causing you to take a gasped breath out your mouth.

You pant, your lips red - glossy with his spit. You still your hips from grinding as he stares at you — he looks wrecked. His hair now looking unkept, no longer neatly tucked behind his ears.

“Did I tell you to fucking stop?” He says meanly, between breaths.

You don’t say anything - too breathless to form a defence. You roll your hips down on him again, only once. He sneers.

“Nice ‘n slow, that’s it.” He drawls out, leaning back into the couch to watch you as he lets go of your hair, both his hands settling on your hips. You brace your hands on his shoulders - gripping, using him as leverage as you continue to grind down on him.

An hour ago you were calling him a murderer. Half an hour before that, he had a switchblade in your face.

Now, you’re both high and you’re dry humping him.

You could laugh about it if you weren’t moaning softly, your eyes closing as your head rolls back in bliss. His hands tighten on your hips — now moving them back and forth for you, dragging you up and down his hard on which begged to spring out of his fucking jeans. He’s puffing out breaths, then a hiss — or a groan. His noises only making the mess in your panties all the wetter.

“Look at you,” He pants out, staring at you.

“Asked me so nicely for a kiss and now you’re draggin’ your wet pussy all over me.” His voice is gruff — strained through the amount of pants.

He lets out a deep noise — rolling his head back, his cock now in agony from how fucking hard he is.

“Need to fucking taste that cunt.” He grits out between clenched teeth, hips bucking up into you.

“Namgyu,” You moan out, coming back in close as you press a sloppy, wet kiss to his mouth.

He invites it, his tongue darting out to kitten lick your bottom lip once, twice — before he forces his tongue through the little parting in your mouth. You moan into it, his tongue relentlessly exploring your mouth - swirling, expelling his own spit in. You’re helplessly smitten, feeling every little thing he does to you.

The ache is your pussy only grows and you can barely take it anymore.

You reluctantly break the kiss - your hands coming to twist into his t shirt.

“Please,” You groan out, eyes shutting as you rock against him.

“I need more, Namgyu. Please.”

You beg so pathetically - but he finds it sweet. Hot, obviously but still sweet. In fact you beg so sweetly that it makes him sick how much he wants to make you feel good. He’s always been a selfish lover in his past. Receiving blowjobs, handjobs — a quick fuck in the club bathroom, nothing intimate. It wasn’t his style.

But you.

Fuck. You’re like his own brand of heroin.

“I hear you, baby — I hear you,” he mutters against your lips — reassuring you through his own struggle as you’re still rubbing up onto his cock.

“But you gotta let me taste that pussy first. Then I’ll fuck it, yeah?”

You’re a mess against him — listening to his filthy words, sending your head into a spin so furious that you can’t seem to slow down. You just nod, still clutching onto him but he’s prying your hands off him not a second later.

“On your back f’me.” He mutters, peppering your lips with his mouth - the occasional lap of his tongue on your lip. You oblige, sliding off him and onto the couch - your back against the soft leather, cold — still not cold enough to cool you down. Your thighs are practically shaking — the eagerness to feel some sort of relief, to feel his hands on you. God, it’s unbearable.

He’s over you the next second — prying your knees apart. He sits there for a moment, deadpan but his eyes darken. His gaze boring between your legs — at the visible wetness in your panties. You watch his jaw tighten, the way his hair curtains his eyes, only making them appear more shadowed with intent. He’d ate pussy before. He’s done a lot, really. But it had always lacked a passion — never once had he felt an urge so strongly to please someone else other than himself.

It’s almost frustrating for him.

“Shit.” You hear him mutter, through the little gap in the corner of his clenched mouth, followed by an even lower, “fuckin’ slut.”

You’re a desperate mess, splayed out on the couch - and Namgyu sat there admiring you all the while. You just lay your head back, your eyes up at that white ceiling again. There’s a bliss that rolls over you, like a warm heat - seeping into your skin and cosying you sweetly. Like the sensation when you get into a fresh bed while it rains outside.

“Please.” You whisper softly, moving your eyes to plea with him between your legs. You feel him drag a single finger over the wet cloth of your panties - barely a graze. It’s enough to send your head spinning, gnawing down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan. Both hands disappear under your dress as his fingers hook on the waistband of your underwear - you lift your hips as he pulls them down slowly.

“Tell me want me.” He says, his voice low as he discards your panties to the side - his eyes stay pinned to yours. He’s not demanding you, that’s obvious. You can see the slight glint of pleading in his eyes — as though he needs to hear you say it. Needs to feel wanted.

It’s something you understand deeply.

The need for recognition. To verbalise it, is to make it real. He needs that more than you need him right now.

“I want you.” You whisper in reply. But you feel in your chest it wasn’t sincere enough. Your lips part again, a slight hesitation sitting in your throat. He stares at you, waiting.

“I need you.”

Those words pour out of you so intimately that it could’ve passed as a moan. You see his jaw set to one side, that satisfaction rolling over his face with such crude delicacy. He’s pressing his thumb against your clit a second later, grounding it into a slow circle - firmly. Your lips shudder open, then closed - unable to form a noise from the overwhelming relief. Your brows upturning, unable to hold your head up as you drop it back down onto the arm of the chair.

Namgyu uncontrollably sneers, the sight of you like this sending an adrenaline through his veins. Something he try’s to tame for now though - wanting to take his sweet time with you. His eyes drop down to your pussy. With his thumb still circling your clit, he uses his middle and index to stroke down your folds — slipping through your soak, till they stop at your tight hole.

“Fuckin’ soaked.” He grits, ever so slightly prodding your entrance with his fingers to test.

“N’ tight, shit. This all for me?”

You’re not looking at him - your eyes closed, but you can tell by the tone in his voice that he’s desperately pleased. Flattered maybe. You knew you were wet, but you must be really wet to get that response from him. The edge in his voice makes you clench around nothing.

You nod helplessly, then you feel his thumb press firmer against your clit. Your body jolts from the intensity, your eyes snapping open at him.

“Use your words.”

“Yes — fuck, yes. It’s for you.” You pant out, your voice reduced to a desperate mess.

He’s pushing his fingers in you before you can blink — but it’s not slow like his thumb. It’s one hard shove. Piston like, the tips of his fingers instantly hitting that sweet spot buried all the way inside you. You cry out — your body jolting from the force of it — the pleasure rolling over you like tidal waves, relentless and unforgiving.

He keeps his fingers there. Doesn’t move them, he simply curls them slowly - against your walls, and such a simple movement is having you crumbling below him.

You shudder a sweet moan, grinding your hips down against his fingers as to ask for more. But he pulls his fingers out. His eyes are on yours, and they stay on yours while his tongue comes out the lap over his fingers, tasting you.

You’d never seen anything like it, never experienced something so sexual in your life. You’re not even a virgin — but you may as well be by the way your thighs shake — by the way you grow increasingly hotter, intimidated by how fucking filthy he is. It’s contagious, intoxicating. More effective than the pill you both popped earlier. So proven as you reach up and grab his hand, pulling his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself too.

His mouth falls slack slightly at the sight.

Your tongue swirls around his fingers before you release them timidly, your mouth ever so slightly glossy from your own fucking juices. He’s staring at you like you’d just reached into his chest and pulled out his fucking heart. So intense it could’ve been mistaken for revulsion. But, no. Not him.

“Whore.” Is all he can manage to bite out, still stilled in his spot from you’d just done.

A confidence brims your throat, a slow smile craning up the corner of your lip - nothing holding you back with your quick reply.

“Murderer.”

Namgyu glares at you, a tsk coming out of his lips as they part in defeat. He doesn’t bother to deny it now. You’re both far too gone.

“And you’re still begging for my cock.” He challenges bitterly, moving his hands to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on his.

His belts being thrown to the side in a second, his fingers rabidly undoing his button and zipper as he pulls his cock free. Your eyes rake down his body till you see it, your stomach twisting. He’s big. Too big, you think. He holds his cock at its base, ever so slowly pumping it in his fist. His eyes remain on you, thinking.

You feel your pussy throbbing — clenching helplessly. You need it, you need it fucking now. You look up at his eyes again, expectingly. He’s stern — teeth slightly bared through the parting of his mouth from the pleasure of him fisting his cock softly.

“Murderer, huh?” He pants out.

Your expression wavers, realising he isn’t gonna make this easy for you now. He’d been generous this whole time but the second you run your mouth? He’s gonna make sure you know about it. You don’t speak, a timid look on your face now revealing itself.

“Guess that makes you pretty fucked up for bein’ this fucking wet for me then, yeah?” He grits out, now moving his cock to drag through your folds, slowly, relishing every slather of wetness. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, a moan catching in your throat as your head rolls back in bliss.

“Yeah, there it is. See? You’re just as bad.”

You can’t reply, your head reeling from the aching need to have him inside you. You pant out a breath, forcing your eyes down as you watch him slide his cock through your folds.

“You won’t fit.” You pant out, truly meaning your words.

“I’ll make it fit.”

You go to form a defence but his cocks splitting you in two in the next second. Stretching right through your tightness like an unstoppable force. Your mouth opens, a disgustingly load moan pouring out of you. You’re pussy clenches around his cock — sucking him in, and he’s obliging as he continues to push right up until your little sweet spot.

Namgyu grunts — then breathes out, almost sounding shattered from the tightness of your pussy. Hunching over you, his forearms now coming to settle on the couch at either side of your head - caging you in.

“Perfect fit,” he grunts out, grounding his hips against yours slowly.

“S’like you were fucking made for me.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip, thrashing your head to the side in bliss. As condescending as he’s trying to be, he’s fucking right. Your pussy welcomes him in so perfectly and warm, tightening around his cock and hugging it. But it takes you a second to adjust - despite the overwhelming pleasure, it stings — completely filling you to the point that you’re trying to catch the breath wedged in your throat.

He slowly pulls out his cock, giving you the chance to exhale before he’s pushing it back in. You take it better this time, your pussy now accustomed to the overpowering size. Namgyu’s breath fans your cheek, like he’s trying to contain himself — the feeling of you squeezing down on his cock almost threatening to make him cum already.

You move your hips in a small circular motion, a little noise seeping out of you as you do. He likes hearing you — those little fucking noises you make. He’s clenching his jaw as he moves his hips back before slamming them back in, his cock hitting your sweet spot with ease. You yelp out, your arms coming to loop over his shoulders - fingers gripping into his toned shoulder blades.

Namgyu grunts at that, reeling his head back to look at your face properly.

You open your eyes up at him. Your expression torn between helpless and ragingly eager.

He grins a little, pulls his cock back and grounds back in with all the more force - your body jolting upward from it.

“I like the look in your eyes right now.” He says messily, condescending you. Your face reads needy, like the speed he’s going isn’t enough - that you need more but you don’t want to beg for it again. You glare up at him, but you cannot help the glossing plea in your eyes. He laughs out a little at you, between pants.

“Fuckin’ needy bitch.” He hisses despite his sick smile. His hips are going at a steady pace now, but not quick enough. Not the speed he knows you need.

“Ask me for it.” He pants out, his head so close that his hanging hair cages your own face. You don’t want to give into it — you want to play the game of power, but you know he’s relentless. You know he’ll fuck you slow until you’re a sobbing mess, pleading with him to make you cum. It irritates you — but it turns you on all the more. You use that aggression as you slam up your lips to meet his - crushingly desperate as you both tilt your heads into it.

You moan into it. You hear him moan too. The noise from him only fueling your fire as you bring his bottom lip into your teeth, gnawing hard — drawing a speckle of blood before you pull away, your head hitting the arm of the chair with a thud. You pant up at him, your chin raised as though you’d just made a bold statement.

Namgyu darts his tongue out and tastes the bit of blood on his lip.

“Fuck me. Hard.” You demand, and he’s staring at you like you’re a fucking god. He doesn’t reply, he just grabs your legs and hauls them around his hips as he picks up his speed — the sound of his hips slapping yours becoming louder and louder. Your eyes roll back, your mouth falling open wide from the euphoria.

He sees your open mouth and wastes no time as he spits into it harshly.

You look up at him — shocked, but he’s clamping his hand over your mouth the next second.

His hips pick up a quicker pace, the sound of your pussy squelching around him filling the room.

“Fucking swallow it.” He grunts out, teeth clenched as he drives his cock into you at a relentless speed. He watches your throat bob as you swallow his spit and then yanks his hand away from your mouth, his own mouth replacing it a second later.

You’re soaring. Room filled with sounds of your wetness, creaking leather and mutual moans. Stifled moans as your mouths welcome each others - his fingers reach down between your bodies to pinch at your clit, twisting it. You’d cry out a moan if you weren’t sucking on his fucking tongue.

You feel it then. That build. Your stomach slowly twisting inward - like an elastic, threatening to snap and loosen you up beneath him. He feels it too - the way your pussy hugs his cock all the more desperately. It’s all too much — you’d never fucked like this in your life. Never fucked high. Never fucked someone you’re supposed to hate.

It feels impossible.

Your breath hitches, your head pulling away from his as the moans roll out of you more ragged and uncontrolled.

“What?” He grits out, his tone mockingly pitiful. “You gonna cum on my cock?”

You can’t answer. Your chest rising and falling in aggressive rhythm. It’s too much — you already know you’re gonna cum harder than you ever have before. In fact the anticipation of it causes your hands to grip his hips, pushing — trying to ease his pace so you don’t truly unravel below him.

“No you fuckin’ don’t.” He mutters out meanly as he prys your hands off his hips, using one of his hands to vice clamp your wrists together — now holding them above your head.

You cry out, helpless - especially as he somehow picks up his pace. His hips cramming against yours meanly — without mercy or give. He doesn’t let himself cum. Not yet. Not until he sees you truly unravel.

“Namgyu —” You stutter out as you reach closer, your wrists wiggling in his grip.

“Open your fuckin’ eyes.” He cuts you off and as you peel them open for him,

You cum.

Your orgasm rips through you, starting red hot deep in your pussy. You cry out — loud, now grateful for the volume of the music in the club. The pleasure shoots through your legs — shaking them, and it’s so overwhelming that you can barely breathe. He’s glaring down at you, fascinated with the way your pupils blow wide — eyes glossing with tears that you can’t subside from the overpowering pleasure crippling you. He smiles — twisted, sickeningly pleased.

“Thaaaat’s it.” He groans out, now reaching close just from the sight of you cumming.

You’re barely responsive, your orgasm had ripped through you so hard that you could barely catch enough breath to keep a steady head. Your head spins — vision blurred as you helplessly blink up at him, lips swollen - hair reduced to a mess.

You just about slur out your next words.

“Fill me up — Namgyu, please.”

His breath shudders at your words and as he try’s to form some sort of horny response, he’s already cumming.

His face twists, eyes cramming shut as he leans his forehead against yours. You feel every muscle in his body clench - contort, tighten. He’s groaning out — sweetly, almost timidly. Like he can’t keep up the facade of a man who’s in complete control.

You feel his cum shoot into you, warm and slick. It’s delightful — your eyes closing as a little satisfied moan slips out of you.

You don’t know how long you’re both laying like that until you feel his body relax — his head coming down to lean into the crook of your shoulder, heavy pants ripping through you both. The rooms warm — thick, the sweat clinging to you both now drying.

You don’t feel any guilt.

There’s no dread.

In fact you feel more at peace with your mind now that you had done in a month. Like you’d took all your control back.

You feel him twitch as he lifts his head after awhile. He’s flushed, his hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead.

You look just as equally wrecked as he does.

You both stare at each other. There’s no snide comments, no demeaning. Just your warm breathes meeting in the middle.

The only thought that slips into your head is the only one that concerns you.

How the fuck could you possibly stay away from each other now?

Authors note: gang this took me SO LONG to write wtf ???? but anyways, plz plz plz enjoy !!! had way too much fun writing this <3 stay strong namgyu nation ❤️

[corpseontheloose]

Vulnerable moment but I'm having a full blown crying session because of a video that hit me like a brick (I'll attach it down). It made me realize in how many phases we, us humans, go through. How we say "I love this fandom" but slowly you'll move on even if you don't want to, because that's what we do after a while. I hate that. I hate that it hurts but I also hate how I know it's only natural to get an interest in other things and some are put to the side sometimes. Or barely acknowledged anymore. It hits you like a damn brick and the person that threw it didn't even kiss it before.

(the vid)

[corpseontheloose]

The oldest daughter guilt of not being able to make your parents proud

[corpseontheloose]

The other line ── .✦

Pairing: Nam-gyu x f!reader

Summary: You never text Nam-gyu during his shifts. You learnt that the hard way, whenever he left you on delivered until he got back home

A/N: If I'm obsessed with Hyun-ju, why do I write for Nam-gyu sm? Also the text messages from Nam-gyu and reader are both different styles on purpose. I tried to make it seem realistic bcz let's be honest, Nam-gyu wouldn't use automatic caps or punctuation 💔💔 reader does. Just to make a difference in their writing style

Warnings: drugs, alcohol, kinda toxic relationship but with good ending ( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ ) angst with fluff

It was 03:32 AM written all over your clocks. The digital one from your kitchen, the one from your nightstand, as well as the one from the screen that lights up whenever you check your phone

Empty. Absolutely no texts. No messages.

The coldness lingered on your body as you moved back and forth, from one room to another in your apartment, trying to make every thought you had disappear in thin fog, or anywhere, for that matter. You just wanted them gone

Nam-gyu worked until 6 AM. The schedule was pretty flexible for someone that works and promotes a literal nightclub. And he wasn't complaining about it. If anything, he actually found it more practical and useful.

Sunlight wasn't for alcohol and heavy drugs, no. It didn't howl the energy he wanted while chugging down two cocktails at the same time. Moonlight, on the other hand...

He lived for this vibe. For this sentiment that the club gave him so substantially.

You couldn't do anything but accept. That was his job. Whether you liked it or not.

Your relationship shifted dynamics a while ago. He became extremely distant towards you. He barely touched you anymore. Whenever you two fought, Nam-gyu much more preferred to take his pillow and sleep on the couch than have to share a bed with you.

It wounded you. But you couldn't leave. Something in you was saying, praying even, that things are going to change. That he'll go back to the way he was when you two got together

Each day challenged you more and more to scrub your hope away and take the matter into your own hands, pack your bags with no note, and find a new reason to live for

But you were always pulled back by the picture of the two of you from your lock screen and how you would always see it even if you didn't intend to

Back when you two were a fresh new couple, you'd occasionally text him while he worked, making sure to say your goodnights before drifting to sleep

However, you never received any answers. You were left on delivered most of the time, probably because he was too busy keeping the hype up for the customers, until he got off from work and probably replied with 'Good morning :)' instead

Or whenever he was too tired, he wouldn't reply at all. He'd just crash onto his bed and text you whenever he woke up

That happened a few times before you got the memo and stopped texting him while he was at work. It didn't matter if you felt lonely, if you had a question, or if you simply wanted to say 'I love you'. You'd suck it up and go to bed, waiting for him to text you first in the morning

After you two moved together, you still followed this silent protocol that you forced upon yourself. No texting while at work

It wouldn't have a point. You'd get hit with the 'delivered' text below your message, remaining stuck in that position until he decided to open the messages and reply with a dry response

If texting was a big no-no, calling was off-limits. You never even dared to press the call button next to his name when he was out there, partying his butt off. Maybe because, deep down, you knew the only voice that you were going to hear was the voicemail

He'd very, very rarely slide a quick 'Love you, goodnight' over your cheek after you moved in with him. If you guys didn't fight before that, of course...

That kept you awake at night. How badly he was treating you lately and how cold he turned towards you. He was like the iceberg that hit the Titanic (૮(˶╥︿╥)ა I'm sorry) but with no physical impact. Just emotional distance

So now you were pacing around the apartment, debating whether this was the life you wanted for yourself or if you wanted to do something about it

Thoughts were running wildly into your brain until you sat down on the couch, dragging your knees to your chest and burying your head between them

It was so, so cold without him.

The screen of your phone illuminated again, letting you know that you were two steps away from your next level in your game.

You turned it off silently. You weren't in the mood for games. You weren't even in the mood to be awake, but it seemed that you had no other choice than to oblige your body's restlessness.

You didn't want this to end. You loved Nam-gyu, and inside your chest, you knew, maybe, that he loved you too.

You just couldn't bear this emptiness that he was offering lately.

So, with your hands shaking slightly, as well as your eyes forming small tears that tangled with your lashes, you picked up the phone and opened Messages

Your mind was yelling at you to put your damn phone down and wipe some dust off the shelves instead, but your heart was tugging at you to just text him... text Nam-gyu.

You didn't know what to type; you just wanted this pressure on your chest gone and done with.

So you typed something before deleting the message and retyping something else. It was a word fight you couldn't win; you just stared at your text, wondering if that's good enough or if you should add something that could potentially get his attention

You scoffed to yourself, pressing send and closing your phone before throwing it to the side

You didn't have any expectations to get an answer right away, or even at all. You just wanted to feel the thrill of doing something that you, yourself, were restricted from doing. Pushing your own boundaries and self-respect just for him...

It wasn't a long message. You wrote a 'Hi can we talk?' and waited for the worst

However, to your surprise, a text popped up just a minute later, leaving your mouth agape and your stomach twisting.

You were fast to unlock your phone and read the notification as your lungs forgot to breathe for a moment

The moment felt so weird, like the air stings your nose whenever you want to inhale a deep breath and calm your nervousness

'what's wrong?' he answered.

Your fingers trembled on the keyboard, trying to form coherent words and not make him wait for too long

'I don't know. I feel like there's something I want to say, but I just can't do it" You press send, watching the screen attentively until the three moving dots appear

'you never text me while Im working. somethings up'

He knew it. He didn't know that you mentally forbade yourself from texting him when he's working. However, he knew when you needed to get things off your chest and just couldn't find the right words to do so

Unfortunately, he knew you too well.

'I don't know Nam-gyu,' you continued in another text message. 'I just wanted to talk'

'talk about what??'

'Anything'

Before he could answer your plea, your quick fingers sent another message. One that made him delete whatever he was texting and leave you hanging for a minute.

'I miss you' is all you typed. Now you pressed your forehead against your knees, looking at the screen in embarrassment.

You felt pathetic. You felt small whenever it came to Nam-gyu. It was almost like your entire mood depended on his.

The dots appeared again, until they suddenly disappeared for a moment. Waiting for his response, whatever that was, sent you spiraling. You felt like you wanted to crawl to the other line and strangle him until he finished typing in his message

Until he did.

'i miss you too babe. talk to me'

That was a nickname he hadn't used in a long time. It made your chest flutter slightly, the feeling you got on your first date crashing onto you again tonight after so much time

It softened your core, melting you and every thought of leaving this apartment, sweeping it under the rug like it never even existed in the first place.

You were now rolling onto the couch, finding a comfortable enough position that could keep you awake and conscious

'I miss my Nam-gyu. You grew so distant and so cold that the only way to warm myself up is by sleeping the feeling off. And I can't keep on sleeping forever. I'm so tired of all the fights, baby. I just want us to be okay. I want to hug you tightly and smell your cologne while you carry me to the bedroom so we could talk about your night until we fall asleep against each other...like we used to. And I always restrained myself from texting you at work because you always left me on delivered. I felt pointless'

You weren't sure if the message would burst his anger out or if he was going to look at it and contemplate his actions. You just knew you wanted to let it out

The opened chat window fell silent. That was probably the most vulnerable state you've ever shown him, and you couldn't help but cringe at the feeling. It was almost cliché.

Until the dots popped again. And they've been moving up and down for at least a minute and a half, making your heart beat fast as you waited for his response

You squeezed the phone in your hand as soon as his message was sent.

'shit Y/N. you gotta listen to me ok? Its the drugs. its the alcohol. it always has been. ive been diving so deep in addiction lately that i forgot ive got a lady to love and cherish at home ok? you have to believe me please. please babe. I need you to believe me. i never stopped loving you Y/N i promise. even now with three vodka cranberries in my system im realizing how idiotic Ive been towards you. please believe me Y/N"

The message made you tear up silently as you tried your best to type an answer to his paragraph. Your fingers burned against your phone, maybe because it got hot after being open for so long, or maybe because the message warmed you up so much it was making it hard to breathe.

You continued to chat throughout the night. He told you to talk to him, that he didn't care about his job right now, and that you had his full attention

You talked about every single subject you could possibly find. From drugs and how they affect the body to changing the color of the walls in your guys' room. You were thinking of a more intimate tone, perhaps lavender.

The hours went by, and Nam-gyu finally hit you with 'i will be home soon wait for me ❤️' as you locked your eyes on the clock and saw how fast the time fled

You replied with 'oki 💕' before leaving your phone down and waited for your boyfriend, curled on the couch, half asleep and half in tears

Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into key sounds that smash over the door in a rush, opening it as quickly as possible

Nam-gyu felt desperate to see you, to touch you after the whole conversation. He felt the guilt hitting him right where it hurt the most, and it continued to hurt until his eyes found yours, looking up curiously from the couch

"...Gyu—" you whispered breathlessly as your bare feet touched the cold floor, stepping towards the man. Your man.

His mouth was slightly open, exhaling the air he'd been holding for so long, dizzying him the entire way to the apartment. He simply picked you up and held you tight against his body, cupping the back of your head as you sobbed in his shoulder.

He held you. And for the first time in a while, he could feel alive again. Not because of the drugs, nor the alcohol. But you.

"My sweet baby..." he whispered against your hair, nuzzling and taking in your perfume he so desperately missed

You could hear the breaks in his voice, like he was about to crack open and cry his eyes out.

He didn't sob. But you could see the tears that peeked in the corner of his eyes

"I'm sorry—Fuck! I'm so sorry, Y/N! Really, I am! I despite mys—"

You shushed him. Not because you didn't want the words, because you definitely did want and deserve them, but because all you wanted was to feel him.

"Apologize later," you told him, pressing your forehead to his. "Please, just hold me"

And he did. He held you in every position, anything that could bring you the closest to him, that could bring you back the warmth he took away when he drifted apart from you. He'd hold you so tightly that you could barely breathe. You didn't mind, though. That's exactly what you wanted, anyways.

[corpseontheloose]

Wrong Name

✦ oneshot

Reader x Nam-gyu | 18+ MDNI

cw: enemies-to-fuckers tension, sharp knifeplay, gunplay, bratty reader, bratty Namgyu, threats, wall pinning, mutual hatred/attraction, knife to throat, gun to crotch, explicit smut (aggressive), blood kink (light cut), dangerous power play, hatefucking, choking, semi-public tension, semi-con roleplay

⸻

You and Namgyu are not players.

You’re dressed like one, sure.

Patched up with the same numbered tracksuit, same fake fear, same mandatory trembling before cameras—but you’re not like the rest of them. Neither is he.

Both of you are inside for one reason only: to sniff out traitors for the Front Man. You’re informants. Wolves in polyester.

Too bad you hate his guts.

“Didn’t think Namsu was such a morning person,” you drawl as you walk past him in the corridor, your voice low, mocking, venom-laced and smug.

You don’t even turn around—you don’t have to. You feel him go still behind you, like a dog leashed too tight. Like a match waiting for friction.

He’s been snapping for days now. Ever since the guards planted you as a pair and told you to “cooperate.”

Namgyu doesn’t cooperate. He controls.

You exist to fuck that up.

You find an isolated corner in the back of the facility. Metal beams. Cold tile. No one passing through for hours. And you lean against the wall, waiting for him like it’s your game.

He finds you with fury in his eyes and blood already in his mouth.

“You call me that name one more fucking time,” he warns through clenched teeth, “and I swear to God—”

“What?” you coo. “Namsu? What will you do, stab me?”

He doesn’t give you time to grin.

He lunges.

One second you’re standing—next thing, your spine cracks against the wall, knocked back by the weight of his chest and the press of his forearm pinning you by the throat. His other hand is already up, knife drawn, blade so close you feel the sting of its edge at your skin.

“Say it again,” he growls. “See how much I fucking care about the Front Man watching.”

Blood beads at your neck. You don’t flinch.

Your hand slips into your waistband and pulls.

Small click.

The barrel of your pistol presses up, right under his zipper.

“Think twice, boy,” you purr, chin tilted up, lips brushing his. “Or I shoot your dick off.”

He laughs a low, broken thing, because you both know neither of you are bluffing. The tension between your thighs is unbearable now. This is your game.

“I fucking knew it,” you whisper, cocking your pistol, just enough pressure to feel him twitch under it. “I knew you get off on this.”

He growls, knife digging just a little more into your skin. “You think holding a gun to my cock makes you tough, princess?”

“I think it makes you hard.”

You’re both breathing like animals.

You feel him shift—lower—closer. And then he kisses you.

Not sweet. Not even angry. It’s violent—all teeth, spit, and dominance as his tongue pushes into your mouth, forcing a whimper out of your throat as his thigh wedges between your legs.

The knife drops to the floor.

His hand grabs your jaw. Forces your face up. The other yanks your pants down like he’s not even thinking—just moving on instinct, as if hating you was just foreplay for how badly he wants to fuck you.

“You think I won’t do it right here?” he hisses into your ear. “You think I care if the cameras see?”

“You care if I scream the wrong name while you’re inside me?”

He growls again, slaps your ass, then shoves your panties aside and pushes two fingers in, wet, hot and mean. You gasp, back arching into the wall, gun still tight in your hand against his cock.

He pulls them out and smears the slick on your lips.

“Taste how badly you want it, brat.”

„Delicious.“ you whisper.

He doesn’t fuck you gently.

He takes you with teeth gritted, his hand over your mouth so you don’t blow the whole op with how loud you’re moaning for him—how you bite his shoulder, how you claw at his back, how you still, still, have the gun to his cock as you clench around him.

“Say it,” he pants into your throat. “Say my fucking name.”

“Namsu—” you laugh.

He chokes you. You come. So does he.

Fucking mess of it. Raw. Wild. Too far gone to stop now.

After a long moment of panting silence, still inside you, he chuckles low against your skin.

“You ever call me that again,” he says, “I’ll fuck you with the knife in next time.”

You slide the gun up his torso slowly.

And smirk. “…Can’t wait.”

At night the guards yank you and Namgyu out of the sleeping hall in the middle of the night. No words. Just that silent, gloved grip on your arms, guiding you through dim corridors with rifles slung low and tension thick enough to suffocate on.

You don’t ask where you’re going. You know.

Namgyu’s behind you. You can feel his smug heat against your back.

The office doors open.

The room is sterile. Cold metal. Screens lit with quiet surveillance feeds. The Front Man stands like a monolith in front of one monitor, hands clasped behind his back like a judge before sentencing.

“I want to show you something.”

Your stomach flips. You grin anyway.

He hits play. And there you are. Both of you.

Pinned against a wall. Pistol to crotch. Knife to throat. Grinding. Groaning. Fucking.

In grainy black and white, full view.

Your own moan echoes faintly from the speakers.

Namgyu hums behind you, pleased. The smug little shit is grinning. You cough into your sleeve to hide your laugh.

The Front Man turns. Slowly.

“Spicy,” he says flatly. “Very spicy. Pornhub would pay a decent cut.”

You snort into your jacket sleeve.

He takes a single step closer. “But you’re not here to fuck.”

The laughter dies.

“You’re not here to play games with each other. You’re not here to get your rocks off, or test whose weapon is bigger—”

He flicks a sharp glance at your waistband. “—or harder.”

Namgyu’s grin gets wider.

“You were brought here because you’re two of the best kill-machines we’ve got. Reliable. Disposable. Efficient.”

A pause. “Not fucking pornstars.”

Silence. His voice drops. Disappointment laced with steel.

“Do you know what happens when the wolves start fucking in front of the sheep?”

No one answers.

“They stop being afraid.”

Another pause. You glance at Namgyu. He winks at you.

The Front Man turns back to the screen, presses a button, and the feed cuts to black. He breathes in deep through the mask, and when he speaks again, it’s the final word:

“Hide and seek. Tomorrow. Room 23 to sublevel 3. No witnesses. No mercy. I want blood.”

Your pulse skips.

Namgyu’s already cracking his knuckles. “Can I still fuck her if I win?”

You elbow him, hard. “Can I fuck him if I win?”

The Front Man doesn’t react. He just walks past you, slow and cold and dismissive, like you’re already corpses.

“Dismissed.”

You both leave grinning.

You walk in silence for a while. Without anyone, because you already know the way.

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. The halls echo with your steps, everything too sterile, too controlled—except for the heat still simmering under your skin from being exposed. Watched. Shamed. Ordered to bleed each other out tomorrow like it’s just another training drill.

Namgyu whistles low, casual like the bastard he is, hands in his pockets.

You stop walking. “Namsu.”

He halts like someone just yanked his collar, then turns with the slowest, most exaggerated eye-roll you’ve ever seen.

“Are you actually trying to die tonight?”

You smirk. Step back into the shadow of a doorway—the one marked TOILET in fading red paint. Lean against it like it’s your throne.

“Wait for me.”

He stares for a second too long. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

He smirks back. Doesn’t say yes. Doesn’t say no.

He just leans against the opposite wall like he owns the place, crosses his arms, legs casually propped, and lets his eyes drag up and down your body.

“I’ll wait,” he says finally. “Better hurry, princess. Might get bored and start fingering my knife again.”

You step inside, grinning. You both know this war isn’t over. Tomorrow’s hide and seek might end with a body bag. Might end with another round against a cold wall.

Might end with both. And the worst part? You’d enjoy either.

You rinse your hands slowly, eyes locked on the warped mirror, smirking at your own reflection. Your throat still has a faint mark from the knife. It’s already clotting. Already fading.

Just like your patience.

You step out of the bathroom, quiet, casual—then flick a few cold drops of water right into Namgyu’s face as you pass.

He flinches. Blinks. “Did you just—?”

You’re already walking, chuckling under your breath.

He doesn’t call your name. Doesn’t threaten. Doesn’t warn.

He just moves.

Before you reach the hallway door, his hand grabs your shoulder and slams you into the nearest wall. Your back hits hard, sharp gasp punched from your lungs—his body flush against yours again in seconds.

“You fucking little menace,” he growls against your mouth, breath hot, chest heaving, eyes wild. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

You grin, panting.

“Yeah?”

You tilt your chin up, teeth bared. “Stop then.”

He doesn’t.

His lips crash into yours like he’s punishing you for breathing. Tongue pushing past your teeth, one hand gripping your jaw, the other already sliding under your waistband like he’s claiming territory. You moan into his mouth, open wide and shameless, fingers tangling in his hair.

There’s nothing gentle about it.

He bites your bottom lip. You tug his zipper. It’s a standoff disguised as a kiss, all teeth and tongue and fury you never learned how to aim properly.

You grind your hips up against his thigh.

“You gonna fuck me again before the murder game or after?”

He breaks the kiss just to press his forehead to yours, panting.

“…During.”

Your laugh stutters out of you. He kisses it away. You both know this ends badly. But for now It tastes so good.

The lights dimmed hours ago, but you’re still awake, curled into the farthest corner of Namgyu’s bed where the camera doesn’t quite reach. His arm is slung lazily over your waist, face half-buried in your hair like he’s not the same guy who almost slit your throat two nights ago.

He’s breathing steady. Warm.

You whisper into the dark, smugly: “Night, Namsu.”

His fingers twitch at your wrist.

Tighten.

“Stop that.” It’s not growled. It’s muttered, sleep-heavy, like he can’t be bothered to sound threatening—but you feel it. The warning curled in the softness.

You smile into his chest anyway and fall asleep.

The next morning, the overhead lights explode to life with a mechanical buzz.

Namgyu groans.

And you, wide awake and grinning like the menace you are, kick him.

Right out of the bed.

“Oh my god—fuck you—” he snarls, tangled in his blanket like a strangled cat, one leg still half on the mattress.

You hum, bouncing to your feet and skipping off to the center of the hall where the other players are gathering like groggy cattle. “You’re welcome for the wake-up, Namsu~”

He spits your name like a curse under his breath.

When the color assignments appear on the screen—two teams: red and blue—you’re marked red instantly.

Namgyu? He’s blue.

You smirk, smug as ever. Until he shows up behind you two minutes later, blue tag already swapped for red, standing way too close.

You don’t even turn your head.

“You didn’t need to trade, little bitch,” you mutter, voice low, sweet, venom-laced.

His breath hits your ear. His voice drops.

“I’ll fuck you either way. Blue or red doesn’t matter, baby.”

You don’t answer. You just kick backward. Hard. Right into his shin.

He chokes. “Fuck—!”

You turn, eyes fluttering innocently. “Oops. Reflex.”

He’s clutching his leg, laughing through the pain like he wants to wring your neck and bend you over at the same time.

The guards blow the whistle.

It’s Hide and Seek time.

And you already know—only one of you’s walking away from this game without limp, bruises, or bite marks.

But neither of you plan on backing down.

The game is fucking wild.

Screams echo through the metal halls. The timer’s ticking loud as a heartbeat. Red team hunts blue team. Blue team hunts red.

You and Namgyu split paths early. Neither of you needs backup. You’re not partners—you’re killers on a leash. And today, the leash is off.

You’re fast. Precise. Ruthless.

Bullet to the jaw. Knife to the ribs. Choke. Snap. Wipe your blade. Move on.

One player begs. Another tries to strike a deal. You end both with the same cold indifference.

Namgyu, though?

He’s laughing. Like a man dancing through hell. Blood on his hands, on his face, shirt ripped open. He kills with joy. With flare. With style.

And then you cross paths.

Same hallway. Same target. You’ve just slit someone’s throat when he turns the corner, panting, knife dripping.

He whistles low, eyes dragging over you like you’re not soaked in gore.

“Heeellooo,” he grins in a really high pitched voice. “You look so good when you’re full of other people’s blood.”

You smear red off your cheek with the back of your hand, expression blank—except for the heat in your eyes.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

His cock’s already hard. You can see it through the fabric. Bloodlust and arousal mixed into one sick, hungry thing.

You mutter, low and dark: “You are such a sick bastard. Goddamn.”

He just licks his lips. You ignore him—for now.

You stalk forward into the next room, boots tracking bloody footprints. There’s someone hiding behind a crate.

Not for long. You grab him from behind—twist—crack. Dead before he hits the ground. Namgyu stares, eyes wide, stunned.

“Holy shit. I didn’t know you could do that.”

You stand over the body, slow, calm. Then turn. And back him into the wall.

“You know what else I can do?” you purr, hand already sliding down, fingers curling right around his cock through his pants—hot, hard, twitching against your palm.

You squeeze. “Make your mind explode.”

He lets out this broken, fucked-up chuckle, head tipping back, fully getting off on the violence, on you, on this sick cocktail of death and lust.

Then— The speaker crackles to life above you.

Your name. Sharp. Cold. Familiar.

The Front Man’s voice, again, like a disappointed fucking dad.

“[Y/N].”

You sigh. Roll your eyes.

Turn to the camera slowly, fingers still wrapped around Namgyu’s dick.

Then you smirk, lips parted.

“I can also suck him off, if you’d like that better.”

Silence from the speaker.

Namgyu wheezes out a laugh, forehead hitting your shoulder.

Another body stumbles into the room—bad timing, worse luck.

Namgyu doesn’t even blink. He launches. Stabs once. Twice. Keeps going. Straddling the corpse, soaked in blood, laughing like he’s high on it.

You stare, unimpressed. “Namgyu. You can stop. He’s already dead.”

He looks up, eyes wild and glittering. Then—he freezes. Staring at you. “You… you said it right.”

You blink. He grins.

“…You totally wanna suck me off.”

You kick his leg. “Shut up.”

And he laughs, mouth full of blood, chest heaving.

You don’t know what’s worse—

The fact that he’s insane. Or that you’re into it.

Namgyu’s still straddling the twitching corpse like it’s a goddamn throne, red slicking down his arms, breath coming in short bursts—giddy, insane, hard. He drags his fingers through the blood pooled beneath the man’s chest and wipes it lazily on his pants, like it’s war paint.

You’re standing over him, hand still damp from where you just touched him, chest rising and falling with unspent adrenaline and sickening arousal.

“You said my name,” he mutters again, like it’s the only thing that matters. You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and I regret it now. Go back to Namsu, freak.”

He laughs—a full-body laugh, spine curling like you just flirted with him instead of insulted him.

Then, in one stupid, fluid motion, he stands, towering over you again, chest to chest, body thrumming with blood and something way darker. He leans down, knife still in one hand.

“You know what your voice did to me when you said it?” he murmurs, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Could’ve come right there.”

You scoff, but your body shudders at how close he is.

He’s fucking feral.

“I could gut you right now,” he hums, sliding the flat of the blade across your stomach, not cutting—yet—but enough to make your whole body tighten. “Then fuck your mouth with my dying breath.”

You let out a sharp breath—half a laugh, half a warning. “You are so fucked in the head.”

You grab his jaw. Push his face back with your palm, but your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth, smearing blood into it—and his tongue comes out, licking it off like it’s candy.

You’re soaked. You hate him. You want him. You want to ruin him. You want to slice his throat.

“You’re obsessed with me,” you mutter, stepping back—just to keep from throwing yourself at him. “You’d die if I stopped looking at you.”

“Babe,” he growls, following you like a shadow, “I’d kill everyone else just to keep your eyes on me.”

Then the buzzer blasts through the room—sharp, mechanical.

A voice: “Final five minutes. Clean up. Prepare for next phase.”

Namgyu’s nose brushes yours, breath thick and hot. “You gonna suck me off or make me bleed?” he asks, like either is fine with him.

You smile. “…Why not both?”

You walk out, leaving a trail of blood and tension behind you. He follows. Of course he does. Like a killer dog with a hard-on and your name in his mouth.

You’re halfway out the door when you hear the grunt behind you.

Not Namgyu’s usual cocky breathless laughter. Not a stupid comment. Not a whistle.

A sound you’ve never heard from him before.

Pain. You spin around.

He’s clutching his side, body twisting, eyes wide as blood spills hot between his fingers. A jagged piece of metal’s sticking out from just under his ribs. Some asshole behind him—desperate, stupid, too late—thought he’d earn a second chance.

But Namgyu’s not the one they should’ve feared.

You don’t hesitate. Not even for a second.

You draw your pistol. Silencer. One clean bullet to the skull.

The attacker drops mid-motion. Crumples like garbage.

Namgyu blinks, slumps to the floor with a pained exhale, fingers still pressed to the gash.

“Damn,” you mutter, approaching calmly, gun already holstered. “That’s what I call karma, Namsu.”

He groans through gritted teeth, one eye squeezed shut. “Fuck you.”

You crouch beside him and grab the hem of your shirt.

Without a word, you rip it—dragging it up over your stomach, letting the cold air bite at your skin, then tearing a long strip clean from the fabric.

“Let me see.”

He moves his hand with a wince. The gash is deep. Ugly. Bleeding too fast. You wrap the cloth tight around him, fast and practiced, pressing in.

His eyes flick up to your bare stomach as your hands work. Despite the agony, his mouth tugs into a weak grin.

“You look so hot right now.”

You snort. Shake your head. “Yeah?”

His lids flutter. Pupils start to slide. Too much blood.

You smile sweetly—then SLAP the absolute shit out of him.

His head snaps to the side.

“FUCK—!” he wheezes. “What the—”

“Stay with me,” you bark. “I’m not dragging your sexy, unstable ass to the exit.”

He stares at you, dazed, breathing hard—but awake now.

You loop his arm over your shoulders and haul him up, steadying him even as he groans through clenched teeth.

“Jesus,” he mutters, limping beside you, “you really like hitting me.”

“You really like getting stabbed. So I think we’re even.”

You guide him through the lower exit corridor—underground, where the guards wait to extract injured “players” for treatment. One of the elite perks of being Front Man’s favorite little psychopaths.

You get to the gate. You shove him toward the medics, still holding pressure on the wound. He grabs your wrist before they pull him away. Blood’s on his lips now, but he still grins.

“You’re fucking mine when I get out.”

You lean down, brush your mouth against his ear.

“You’re gonna have to catch me first, baby.”

They pull him in. You turn. Grab your gun. And walk straight back into the halls.

Three red-team members. Two guards. One traitor.

You kill them all. Effortless. Efficient. Smile still on your lips. Because Namgyu bleeding out wasn’t a weakness.

It was a promise. And you always keep yours.

“Player 124 eliminated.”

The mechanical voice rings out through the facility. Unbothered. Cold.

You stare at the empty hallway.

“Great,” you mutter, still catching your breath, blood dripping from your elbow. “Now he’s not even a Player anymore.”

You’re soaked. Filthy. Bits of someone else’s flesh dried under your nails.

But no one stops you as you stagger back into the main dormitory. They all move away, eyes wide, whispers crawling behind your steps.

You don’t speak.

You climb into your bunk—alone now, the one beside it empty—and pass out, still smeared with blood and a smile tugging at your mouth.

Two days later. Morning.

You’re sitting at the table, barely awake, idly spinning your spoon. The air feels heavier today. The tension, strange.

Heavy boots. Guards entering. Four of them. Two flank the wall.

One walks straight toward you.

You don’t look up. You already know who that bastard is.

Something about the walk. The height. The aura of smug instability in every step. That little sway of the hips, like he wants to be touched or punched.

He comes up behind you and shoves you forward, just enough to knock your tray. Your hand catches the edge. You don’t flinch.

You whisper, dry and dangerous:

“I will gut you with this fork.”

A pause. Voice low under the mask.

“Try me then.”

You lunge. Fork raised. Motion fluid. Not even pretending to aim for anything safe.

None of the other guards move. No warnings. No shouts.

Because they know. They know it’s you. They know it’s him.

He grabs your arm mid-air. Twists. Slams your back to the floor in one smooth move, straddling your hips like a handler breaking a wild dog.

The mask leans down. “You come with me.”

You pant beneath him, smile curling slow on your face.

You don’t fight back.

You just breathe out, almost a purr: “…Took you long enough, Namsu.”

His fingers tighten around your wrist.

You’re not afraid. You’re awake. And everyone in that room knows—when he drags you out of there?

It’s not punishment.

It’s foreplay.

He doesn’t take you to a cell. Or a locked room. Or anywhere reasonable.

He drags you through the back corridors like you’re a sack of sin he can’t wait to rip open. You’re still in your uniform—filthy, bloodstained, hair wild from the floor scuffle. He walks like he’s restraining himself by seconds.

You stumble once.

He yanks you back upright, hand gripping your wrist too tight—you feel your pulse slam against bone.

“Getting tired already?” he growls behind the mask.

You smirk, not missing a beat.

“Just hoping you’ll trip and fall face first into my pussy.”

He makes a sound—deep and broken and animal.

The second the last corner turns, he throws you against the wall. Metal slams against your spine, and his body cages you in. The mask stays on, but you feel his mouth against your jaw, panting. Tasting you through it.

“You little fucking menace,” he hisses, pulling the mask up just enough to bare his teeth, lips dragging over your throat.

You reach down and palm his cock through the uniform. Already hard. Already twitching.

“You came to breakfast like this?” you whisper. “What, couldn’t stop thinking about how I looked killing for you?”

He grabs your jaw. Forces your head back. Bites at your throat with his teeth just shy of breaking skin.

“You belong on your knees,” he snarls.

“Then put me there.”

He does. Hard. You drop like he summoned you, knees bruising on the metal floor, hands already clawing at his belt. He pulls the mask off completely now, throws it, like it’s in the way. You look up, eyes wide, lips parted.

“You’re fucking mine,” he growls.

You take him into your mouth without mercy. Sloppy. No teasing. Just need and rage and filthy fucking devotion.

His hand curls in your hair, forces your head down, and you gag beautifully around him—eyes watering, drool dripping, nose brushing his pelvis as he moans like he’s choking on his own ego.

You come up for air, gasping, spit shining your chin.

He pulls you up roughly by your collar.

You’re laughing—unhinged.

He shoves your pants down. Fingers between your legs. Two go in, fast and deep. You cry out, slapping your hand against the wall to brace yourself.

“So wet already.”

“Maybe I get off on violence,” you pant.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them.

“I know you do.”

Then he spins you around—shoves your chest to the wall, one hand on your neck, cock dragging through your folds until you scream through your teeth.

“Beg.”

You spit on the floor. He slams into you.

You shout his name. The right one this time. Over and over. His hand comes up and chokes you while he pounds you into the wall like he’s trying to break something. Your spine arches. Legs shake. Every thrust makes the wall rattle.

You can feel how wrecked you are—how soaked. How loud the sounds are in the empty corridor.

“You gonna cry for me, baby?” he pants. “You gonna scream loud enough for the cameras?”

“I’m gonna fucking bite you,” you gasp.

He laughs like a man who’s already lost his mind.

“Then do it.”

You twist back sink your teeth into his shoulder, dragging a scream from his mouth as he fucks you harder, deeper, like he wants to bury himself in you. He reaches around, rubbing your clit in fast, rough circles.

You break apart on him like an explosion.

He comes after you—spilling deep, moaning your name like a curse.

You both stay like that. Shaking. Shuddering. Smeared in blood and sweat.

His lips brush your ear.

“…You’re not sleeping alone tonight.”

You grin through your panting. “Damn right I’m not.”

The hallway reeks of blood and sweat and sex.

You’re both still half-dressed, panting against each other like you’ve just survived a war—because you have. You are the war.

Namgyu tugs your pants back up with one hand, the other still slick from touching you. His cock’s still out, twitching, and the knife? It never left his waistband. Still snug against his hip like a second cock he could pull at any moment.

“Shower,” he mutters, breath still ragged. “Now.”

“Why?” you tease, voice raspy, smirking. “You trying to get sweet on me?”

He grabs your arm. Pulls you with him. “No,” he says, then adds with a filthy little grin, “Trying to get round two.”

The staff showers are cold steel and concrete. Empty at this hour. You don’t even look around. He shoves you into the tiled wall the second the door closes behind him.

You start to peel off your shirt—what’s left of it—but he beats you to it. Grabs the collar and rips, exposing your chest, your throat, the marks he’s already left like badges.

He kisses down your collarbone. Hard. Sucking bruises like a bastard starved.

“Fucking look at you,” he breathes against your skin. “You’re disgusting. You’re perfect.”

Your nails scrape down his back.

“You still have your fucking knife in your pants.”

He groans, forehead against yours. “Don’t worry. I’m not using it. Unless you want me to.”

You yank his waistband, shove it off.

“Just fuck me again.” He doesn’t need more.

The water starts cold. You both gasp. Then it turns hot—steam rising, sweat and blood and dirt pooling around your feet. He washes you with one hand, touches you with the other.

His fingers trail over your ribs, your hips, your thighs.

“Mine,” he mutters, gripping your ass.

You smirk.

“You always say that after you come.”

He flips you around. Shoves his knee between your legs, spreading them.

“You’re gonna say it too,” he growls, rutting against you, cock hard again—already.

You reach behind, stroke him once, then guide him in. He slides in slow this time, but it’s no less brutal. No less deep.

The knife clinks against the tiles as he thrusts. It stays in the waistband of his pants around his thighs. Right where it belongs. His hands grip your hips like handles, dragging you back onto him as the shower pours down your face, your open mouth, your trembling body.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say who you fucking belong to.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder, lips parted, moaning. “Yours.”

He bites your neck. You scream. He fucks you through it, chasing every sound, every tremble, every slick pulse of your body around his cock. It’s dizzying—hot water, hot breath, too much and not enough.

You both finish again. Messier. Needier.

He doesn’t pull out for a long time. Instead, he wraps both arms around you from behind. Still inside you. Still twitching.

You both just stand there. Breathing. Letting the water rinse the filth off your skin—just not the obsession. Never that.

Finally, you speak. Quiet. Close to his ear.

“…So what do we tell the Front Man?”

Namgyu smirks against your soaked shoulder.

“We tell him I slipped.”

You step out of the showers with your hair dripping, Namgyu beside you, still adjusting the towel around his waist like he owns the entire facility. Water clings to both of you—rivulets running down bruises, half-healed cuts, hickeys bitten into skin like war medals.

You’re sore. Satisfied. Still vibrating with the aftershock of round two.

The hallway’s quiet. Too quiet.

And then— There he is.

At the end of the corridor. No mask.

Front Man. Arms crossed. Jaw clenched.

Expression pure dad who just found the kids humping in the garage with gasoline and fireworks.

You stop. Namgyu stops.

Front Man says nothing for a moment. Just stares. Then lifts both hands in utter disbelief.

“Are you two for real?!”

You and Namgyu look at each other— And burst into laughter.

Loud. Broken. Feral. Soaked in steam and shamelessness.

“Stop laughing!” he snaps, pacing closer now, hand raking down his face like he’s going to lose whatever sanity he has left. “You two are the most psychotic liabilities I’ve ever fucking hired.”

You bite your lip, trying to rein it in. Failing. “Boss, there’s like ten people left. I’ll execute them myself.”

Namgyu, towel slung low on his hips, grins like the devil. “Yeah, and then we’ll celebrate with round three in the control room—”

You elbow him directly in the stab wound. Hard.

“FUCK—” he drops to his knees, clutching his side. “I was joking! Holy—what the hell—!”

You crouch beside him, pat his cheek with mock concern. “Yeah, you can fuck with it but stop running your mouth.”

He groans, forehead to the floor, mumbling something about pain and blowjobs and betrayal.

You stand, stretch, smirk.

The Front Man just stands there, arms out like a man begging for divine mercy.

“What the fuck?” he mutters to the air. “Seriously. What the actual fuck?”

You wink. Namgyu wheezes from the floor.

“I swear to god,” Front Man snaps, pointing at you both, “you’re banned from the fucking hall. You sleep in the morgue now. Or hang upside down like the little bloodsucking freaks you are.”

You lean against the wall, dripping wet and completely unbothered.

“Cool. As long as we get to share the body bag.”

Namgyu coughs out a laugh. “Split zipper.”

Front Man walks away muttering to himself, already regretting everything. You don’t move. Namgyu’s still on the floor, smirking through the pain.

You reach out your hand. “Come on, stabby. Let’s go ruin something else.”

He takes it. Of course he does.

The staffroom is dim, the door locked behind you.

It smells like antiseptic, stale ramen, and old smoke—probably from Namgyu. There’s one bed shoved into the corner. A metal shelf. Spare towels. Two shitty pillows.

You both smell like soap now. Your hair’s still damp.

Namgyu’s shirt is clinging to his chest, his bandages stained faint red at the side. He’s clearly not okay. The stab wound is still fresh, still tight, but of course—he won’t stop touching you.

One hand traces up your thigh. Light. Lazy.

His other arm’s tucked beneath his head, eyes half-lidded, lip split from laughing too hard earlier.

You’re lying next to him under the single blanket. Neither of you has said goodnight.

Because neither of you are asleep.

His fingers dip under the hem of your waistband.

You grab his wrist gently, still smirking.

“You’re bleeding through your bandage again, freak.”

He grins, eyes closed. “Adrenaline makes me want to fuck you through the pain.”

You snort, pressing your forehead to his shoulder.

“I thought you got off on pain, Namsu.”

He huffs a broken laugh through his nose.

“Only when you’re in it.”

You kiss his collarbone just to spite him—soft, gentle, ruinous.

His breathing stutters.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll try to crawl on top of you and die halfway through.”

You laugh again—quieter this time. You let your hand rest low on his stomach, warm and still.

“I could do all the work.”

He turns his face toward you slowly. “You always say that, and then you ruin my life.”

You trace your finger lightly over the gauze at his ribs.

“Maybe I like ruining things.”

“Maybe I like being ruined by you.”

That shuts you up for a second. Then he exhales, long and shallow, head rolling onto the pillow.

“I’m serious,” he mutters. “I’m fucking dying over here. I ache. I’m hard. And all I want to do is make you scream.”

You smile against his chest. “You’re not dying. You’re dramatic.”

“I’m bleeding out and you’re cuddling.”

“I’m multitasking.”

He laughs softly again. You slide your leg over his gently. He groans. “Stop.”

You nuzzle closer. “No.”

He kisses your forehead. His hand stays low on your back.

Neither of you fuck. But it’s worse than that.

Because for the first time?

You fall asleep together.

And that’s somehow more dangerous.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

[corpseontheloose]

HIII! Hello! Welcome to my blog!! I hope you're doing well and I promise I won't bore you too much!!

Just a quick few things about me!

You can call me whatever you want from the names listed down. I'm comfortable with all of them (and I use em for obv reasons, to not reveal my identity)

-Jinx

-Charmmy/Charmmy Kitty

-Wooloo (preferably)

-Sylveon/Sylv

I use she/her and xe/xem, but I'm comfortable with he/him sometimes, too!! I prefer xe/xem however

I'm demisexual, fictoromantic and biromantic

I'm an adult so pls behave as such if you're a minor. Most of my content is SFW, however it can contain mature/serios themes , but they all WILL have warnings beforehand to make sure you understand that it's forbidden to interact with that specific post if you're a minor

I write whenever I want, about who I want and about what I want. Unfortunately I won't open requests because working on other people's ideas will defeat the purpose of my writing. And also I can't deal with overwhelm, so a huge amount of requests would just make me shut down :'(

Masterlist!!

(more coming soon!)

Nam-gyu (Squid Game)

A whisker away

A whisker away II

Reflections

Silly syringes

Balcony

Honey snacks

The other line

Cho Hyun-ju (Squid Game)

Forbidden feelings

Small steps

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

Kisses by the midnight pool

Romeo and Juliet

Hunter Sylvester (metal lords)

Headcanons in my fics

Headcanons cat edition

Headcanons with a fairy kei reader

Adam Stanheight (SAW)

Cookies

I also make themed playlists on YouTube! @(´꒳`)

Blog with my linked playlists

[corpseontheloose]

A whisker away II ── .✦

Pairing: Nam-gyu x f!reader

Summary: you and Nam-gyu are basically the parents of the stray cats <\3

A/N: I love soft Nam-gyu :'((( this is part two of this!!! Also Y/N and Nam-gyu aren't dating, they're just going out and taking things slow, but they do like each other and they know both know that. Like I said, they just want to take things slow :3

Warnings: mentions of drugs, cigarettes

At this point Nam-gyu knew how much the music from the club was distracting half of your class during lessons

You told him, obviously. It was kind of funny to explain how your classmates groan almost all the time because of that

He found it funny, too, of course. But he also wanted to make sure you're able to concentrate during your studies

You assured him that you're doing just fine with your headphones and the notes from the board, so he didn't have to worry too much

Although you were pretty moody whenever you didn't have your headphones on and had to listen to, not only the teacher, but also whatever singer the club brought this time

Whenever the club was increasing the volume of the speakers, Nam-gyu couldn't help but think about you

He made sure the cats were okay during those times when you were still in class, knowing you were almost done with the lessons and coming straight to them. And him.

As soon as you finished, you packed your stuff and made your way out of the building, not before grabbing leftover granola bars from the cafeteria.

He liked those. You knew that; you took notes on that.

And you liked him. So naturally, you always made sure to bring him some. You'd even save yours throughout the evening in case the cafeteria didn't have any left, so you could give him that instead. If they did have leftovers, you'd grab one more just to munch along with Nam-gyu

Most of the time he'd wait outside for you, already on the ground, playing with the cats. Other times he'd kick open the door and close it in a rush before apologizing for being late (he was late for just 2 min max 💔💔)

You'd chuckle and brush the hair away from his face, assuring him that it was okay and that you just got there anyways

Today he was there, though. He sat with the kittens and scolded some of them for playfully fighting against each other until you popped right from the corner

"Heyy! Sorry for running a bit late; traffic was crazy. I almost got run over by a car," you giggled, letting the bag slip from your shoulder.

You picked up the kibble sack from inside it, earning desperate meows from the familiar rustling sound the sack made.

"That's all good; I actually got out of there earlier just to breathe for a bit. Anything to escape from the boss for a little while," he joked, picking up one of the bowls and holding it up so you could pour the kibbles

Nam-gyu helped you out with the other few bowls before you let the furry friends eat in peace

You sat down on the concrete next to him, searching in your bag loudly for the granola bars. The pens would crash against each other, making soft sounds until you pulled out the two snacks, handing one to him

"How was class today?" he asks, tearing the packaging and taking a bite of his bar

"I don't even know what word I'm looking for. It was... apathetic."

He listened to your complaints and frustrations attentively, scoffing at some of the things that didn't sound right to him either

"You can't just announce a project last minute, especially for the final semester. It takes at least three days to write a decent document. Maybe I had plans for the weekend; who knows? Either way, I think that's just stupid."

Nam-gyu nods, agreeing with you. Although he never went to college, the situation seemed frustrating, and he could tell how much it affected you based on how aggressively you munched on the granola bar.

"I don't even—I don't even know what to do. It's extremely frustrating, and I'm already in a time crunch. And I do have plans tomorrow; I can't miss that."

"What plans do you have tomorrow?" he asked curiously, snapping his head at you. You simply sighed, moving your head to the side for a moment.

"I... signed up for volunteering. They already reviewed my form; they want to meet me tomorrow."

Nam-gyu's eyes grew big at the news, his lips curling into a genuine smile.

"That's cool! And also, very... you," he added, nodding while chuckling slightly. "What are you volunteering for exactly?"

You simply nodded towards the cats in front of you before returning your gaze back to him

"feeding the animals around the city. Not just cats, dogs too."

Nam-gyu's heart was basically doing flips in his chest. Why were you so sweet godSHHHHH it was TOO TOOTH-ROTTING FOR HIM

"Figured. I wouldn't imagine you pick anything else," he smiles, shoving the granola bar's packaging in his pocket

Ever since you two started going out, Nam-gyu has restrained himself from smoking weed next to you. Or do drugs, for that matter.

You'd still see him high; he just wouldn't do the whole process with you anywhere near him.

So he only limited himself to cigarettes, knowing you'd also take a drag or two.

It's the least he could do for putting you in such tight spots whenever he came to your apartment after work, high as hell, in the middle of an extra study session. He'd usually fall asleep on the couch, standing on his butt with an arm around your waist as you held your head on his chest and your eyes on your notebooks.

He promised he'd try to get better, but he couldn't do it. Not yet. And you accepted that, somehow

Everyone had their vices.

"If I start volunteering on the weekends, I'm going to need a favor, though," you say, slowly turning your head to him and smirking widely

He looked at you with a grin and a raised eyebrow before rolling his eyes.

"Would you spare two minutes of your life to feed the buddies in here if I'm not able to make it?"

Nam-gyu scoffed in amusement, avoiding your eyes and looking everywhere else but your face

"What am I? Is the cat security not enough? Now I have to become a personal chef for them, too?"

"Oh, come on, Nam-gyu. You can have the kibble sack wherever your bags go during your shift, and if you run out, you can just give me a text, and I'll go buy some more and bring them to you."

You pleaded, fake-pouting while placing your head on his arm, which was hooked around his knees

He didn't answer the first time, making you take his attention with something else

You bit him. Softly. But you still bit him.

"Ouch, you crazy lady!" You chuckled, placing your chin back on his arm, looking up at him

He looked at you so lovingly before rolling his eyes, "Fine! Fine. I'll feed your damn cats. But this doesn't come on my paycheck!"

"No, you're right. It doesn't," you started, looking at the ground. "It comes on every time you disturb my studying hours, though."

"At least now I know how to pay for that instead of just apologizing like a maniac," he mumbled as you kicked him in the arm

It went well for a few days. You started haunting the streets, feeding every creature you found until you needed to head to class and right back home, sleeping your ass off

Whenever you had time, you'd actually text Nam-gyu to come to the front doors of the club just to see him shortly before you go home and sink yourself in your bed

Most of the time he'd be right outside after you texted him; sometimes he'd reply with 'Can't right now. Go rest. The cats are fed ❤️'

It was truly heartwarming, and it made you happy knowing he was putting in the effort to help you.

It also made you happy knowing you were helping hundreds of other hungry bellies and that you were provided with (almost) unlimited kibble from the volunteering program. They even let you get some to supply Nam-gyu whenever he ran out for his cats.

Did I say 'his' cats? Nah, it wasn't a misspelling.

They became clingier over him now that you weren't around as often as before.

At first it was a bit weird for him, but with time, he just softened around them.

He'd proudly call himself 'cat dad' whenever he crashed onto your couch like he always did, telling you about his night at work and how the cats are doing.

You'd laugh at his words, teasing him about his new role. He just looked offended. "I'll have you know cats ADORE me. You're just jealous."

You were making plans together on how to change up their place for a bit, since winter was right around the corner and you didn't want them to get cold.

He'd give you silly ideas most of the time, since the only time you got to be together was when he came to your place, high, and held you against his chest on your couch.

Some of them were useful, though. You made a list and decided on a day to not attend class just to be able to put together a safer space for your and his cats.

He'd also call the same day off just to help you.

AWWWWWWW

[corpseontheloose]

A whisker away ── .✦

Pairing: Nam-gyu x f!reader

Summary: you are actively feeding the stray cattos near the club he works at

A/N: I personally spend some of my savings on feeding the stray cats (occasionally dogs if I see any) and if you have the possibility to do the same, trust me, the pets will be extremely grateful <3 also the title is inspired by the animated movie "a whisker away" on Netflix 😺 part two is here!!!

Warnings: mentions of smoking weed,drugs (such as ecstasy) mentions of death (it doesn't happen tho)

Whoever thought about putting a club a few houses away from a school was an absolute genius (sarcastically)

College students, especially the evening students with evening classes, would spend 3-4 hours listening to booming music and occasionally new singer wannabes during their lessons

Luckily for you, most of the time the teacher was writing on the board, and you just had to rewrite everything on your papers, which was great; it gave you the possibility to have your headphones on and ignore the outside

However, some students were cursed with whatever new song Thanos came up with for tonight.

Once the lessons end, you, as usual, gather your things pretty quickly before putting your headphones away in your bag, making your way out of the building followed by others

You weren't extremely tired, just very bored. Which caused you to be a bit sleepy.

It's a good thing you chose evening lessons. You get to sleep until 6 PM, need to attend 4 hours of classes (if you feel like it), study for a few hours, and BOOM! Free time.

And you had enough time to study at home, too. A quieter place for absorbing the notes into your brain

On your way home, you always end up cornering the street that goes almost to the back of an alley, right behind the club that was bothering your classmates pretty much every night

It was your routine to come here every evening after class. Because beautiful pairs of eyes waited hungrily for you to bring them kibbles and leftovers from your breakfast

There were ten hungry bellies in total, and you always made sure all of them were full before you could leave home peacefully

You were surprised as to why the loud music never scared the cats away, but perhaps they already got used to it at this point

As you pet the fur of your colored furry friends, you hear a click of a door echoing in the alley

The cats couldn't care less about the sounds or the two people that just burst out from inside the club. They were too busy munching on their food

You curiously looked at the scene, trying not to draw too much attention.

Two guys were leaning on the nearest wall, sucking from their joints and talking about Holy Spaghetti knows what.

One had black hair, while the other dude had purple-dyed hair. They both seemed strong enough, but also extremely stoned

You were pretty skeptical about leaving the cats in here with some junkie dudes, but you were also paranoid about your life and how dangerous staying here could be

Until one of them spotted you. The one with black hair, who looked more wasted than the other guy

He just stared at you, long, shamelessly, before returning his gaze back to his friend. "She's feeding the cats again..."

"Who?" the other one asked, peeking over his shoulder

"The girl I told you about. She keeps bringing kibbles for the fur balls"

You couldn't properly hear what they were talking about, but you were grateful for the fact that they left you alone and didn't approach you, high as they were.

"What's wrong with some community help, huh? She's not doing anything wrong, my man"

The black-haired man scoffed, rolling his eyes at his friend as he stole looks from you from time to time.

"It's just... pathetic. You almost feel pitiful when you look at that," he answered his friend's words, taking a drag from the joint and letting the high sink in deeper

"Compassion is a virtue not everyone possesses. It's pretty admirable, my homie. Try to view it differently"

After a while, you decided it was time to head home and prepare some Buldak while binge-watching one of the few shows you truly liked. You missed your couch dearly.

The next evening was the same. Class at 6 PM. At 10 PM you gathered your papers and pens then got right back to haunting the streets of Korea for your fur friends

For a few days everything was normal, calm, like the usual atmosphere. You'd leave the kibbles, pet their scratched faces, then leave to go eat for yourself.

Until this evening

Once again, the doors opened. Not suddenly, not forcefully. Just opened. Then closed

You recognized the man. You saw him a few days ago with his friend,

He looked... bad. Like he hit rock bottom. His face was a mess, probably from all the substances he was consuming

You felt a bit relieved knowing it was him and not someone else. A familiar face was easier to duck than some stranger whose intentions with you were unknown

He sat down on the stairs, letting himself fall over the door and slowly slide down onto it until it felt comfortable enough

You watched. Not because you wanted to say something, but because you had this internal sympathy for him and his actions. You never knew what someone's going through, and you were glad you had that mentality

He didn't observe you at first; you were practically invisible to him. The drugs worked so well he was actually feeling the ecstasy kicking in.

After getting used to the feeling, he started to look around. He then spotted you in the same spot you always crouched at

His instinct was to scoff at you, roll his eyes, and ignore you. However... Maybe it was the Ecstasy, or perhaps what Thanos told him a few days ago, because he didn't find himself taking his eyes off of you like he'd usually do

He just stared.

"Why are you always feeding them?" you hear those words from your right.

You froze, not wanting to engage in any conversations with drug addicts, especially those who are already intoxicated

You didn't answer. You tried to remain calm as he shifted from his seat, walking towards you.

"I'm not here to scold you or anything—I just want to know why you're wasting your time on them"

Your instincts wanted to run. You definitely didn't know him and his intentions, but you've seen the way he wobbled towards you. You chose to stay calm instead.

"They've been here since I started working; no one really gave a damn about them. Then you... started showing up for the past few months."

You nodded slowly, petting their furs.

"I can't stand the sight of hungry animals," you reply softly, looking up at him

He seemed harmless, almost.

"They've been doing better since you started coming here..." he mumbled, crouching down on the pavement next to a wall to lean on

"I'll make sure not to stop, then," you assured, nodding in his direction

He didn't say anything; he just looked at you. His pupils were huge as his hands trembled slightly, but you saw the tiredness. It almost broke you

"Make sure they're all full,please." you kindly asked him, standing up on your feet and grabbing your bag from the ground

"What am I, cat security?" he asked with a scoff

But you simply chuckled, taking a few steps back slowly,"You might just become one"

You didn't see his face for a few days. It wasn't unusual; he barely went out for a breath of air or just to high himself up so you weren't expecting him, or anyone for that matter.

Today, though, the stars aligned. And as you wanted to take the turn to the alley behind the club, the guy met with your figure right at the front doors.

He curiously peeked in your direction before grinning and waving slightly at you.

"Here for the fur balls?"

You nodded, smiling slightly at him, "What else would I be here for?"

"I don't know, maybe you'd like a drink?" he shrugged, trying to give you an idea.

"I don't like drinking without my friends. And plus, it's a school day. I need to get back and study"

"You're in what, college?" He leaned on the metal bars next to him.

You learned his name. His life, in small proportions at least. His habits.

Today wasn't as lonely as the days before; he actually followed up with you in the alley corner and talked to you about different subjects while you were feeding your little friends

He still seemed skeptical about this; he couldn't see the point of feeding something that could easily be killed or taken away by tomorrow morning

But he still watched you. And, God, you were so kind to them

You seemed so sweet towards the cats, he couldn't help but think about how much he wishes someone would be just as sweet towards him

That'd be a joke, to be honest. Who would be sweet and compassionate to a screw-up like him? He barely deserved to occupy space on this planet

Nam-gyu made sure to always meet with you in that spot. He made it seem like an accident, but in reality, he'd check up the time and memorize your schedule just to see your sweet butt taking care of the cats

After a while it became a routine. He always sat with you, drugged or not, and talked about anything and everything while you took care of the small beings

"Wanna try? They don't bite, I promise," you asked while handing him a piece of chicken from your last lunch

For the first time he felt included in something that didn't mean work or drug dealing...

Nam-gyu's heart swelled the day he saw you bringing in a plastic box, rigid enough to hold steady during wind, and big enough for every one of them to curl inside and warm each other

"Autumn's coming. Thought about some shelter for them," you told him while placing soft blankets inside of the box, making it as comfortable as possible

"All of this for... them?" He seemed confused. He couldn't understand how much kindness can be in one person. It was almost sickening (in a good way)

Whenever you weren't around, for example, during 1 AM when the club was at its peak, he made sure to check up on the cats from time to time

Just to be sure no one disturbed or threw rocks at the harmless creatures

That basically became his second job. Cat security

Nam-gyu swears he didn't get attached to them, neither of you nor your companionship. He just felt like that was the right thing to do (he got attached)

And when he told you, casual as hell, you let out sweet "awww"s and "thank you, Nam-gyu, that's very nice of you"s that made him smirk under his nose

Little did you know that he wasn't as casual as you thought; he actually wanted to hear you praise him for the good work. He just didn't want to show it

But, hey! It worked!

Yeah, no, this dude fell in love. Hard.

He just didn't know how to act towards girls that seemed too good for him

He knew he'd fuck up one way or another. Whether it was with his drug addiction or just his way of being. It was always something with him...

But you accepted to go out with him either way!

That was a shock for him

He promised to take it slow with the drugs, even seek help at some point

But Nam-gyu was now protecting the cats whenever he had the chance to

It was like he became their father; that's how much responsibility he put into it.

And maybe it was because he also liked you. Like... REALLY liked you

He became softer with time. That's on you, of course

But whenever he backed into the alley to smoke a joint and escape the crowds for a while, he always sat with the cats and thought about you

Okay, he became attached to them as well

[corpseontheloose]

Nothing hurts more than being a failed actor <\3

[corpseontheloose]

Reflections ── .✦

Pairing: Nam-gyu x f!reader

Summary: Nam-gyu meets a person who reminds him of what he was like before he got better.

Warnings: drug addiction (the reader), minor death situation, post!squid games.

A/N: I'm so tired of stoner Nam-gyuuuu, let's change the plot for a bit ;] also this is inspired by Reflections by The Neighborhood. Also C/A means cat's name!! <3

Nam-gyu had survived the games. How? It's unknown, really. Even he was amazed by how he escaped the hell and returned home with billions in his bank account.

He didn't want to admit, not even to himself, but he was grateful for still being alive after all of that. Maybe it was the drugs that ruled his veins and kicked his survival instincts in order to get out in one piece, but it worked in his favor!!

He did quit his job spontaneously.

But did he stop his addiction after? Hardly.

He was a billionaire, for God's sake; of course he wouldn't stay to the side when alcohol and drugs were involved.

He felt like the drugs were a way to grieve and honor Thanos. A lame excuse to cover the fact that he was an addicted junkie.

Until it almost killed him. Twice, on the same night.

He didn't have any motivation to get better. Parents disowned him, friends are just people he knows from the club mostly (and can't even be named friends), he didn't have a lover, and he didn't even care about himself at this point.

Although... it was a shame to see all the funds go into disposable syringes and colored pills when he could've bought a new house. A huge one. And live the best life without fucking himself up.

It was hard to end an addiction, especially because, even after he quit his club job, he would still spend his nights there as a customer. So he was surrounded with everything that fed into his dependencies and made him break his clean streak he was keeping in his 'I Am Sober' app.

A new week, a new 'restart countdown' button was pressed.

He couldn't put the blame on himself though.. It was the withdrawal that was pushing him from behind.

He genuinely wanted to get better.

So, naturally, after beating himself up over the embarrassment and the self-image of a wimp, he sought professional help.

So he looked for the best rehab. The most expensive. Just because he REALLY wanted to get better. And he didn't want to spend the usual time of 3-6 weeks in there; he wanted to stay as much as it took until he became disgusted at the sight of substances.

And he did.

He stayed there for 6-7 month-is? Just because the withdrawals were bad. Extremely bad. And the urge was huge.

Although he didn't think he was recovered completely, he felt confident enough to step foot outside and promised himself he'd never have to come back between those walls ever again.

One year later, Nam-gyu was a changed man. He lived in a humble apartment with not-cheap-but-not-expensive-furniture and a small hamster.

He was better. A lot better.

So one day, when he was taking his weekly trip to the grocery store to fill up his fridge, he spotted you in the bus station.

You were picking at your hoodie's sleeves, agitated as you waited for the same bus as Nam-gyu.

He didn't know you, but he could recognize the face of an addict whenever he saw one.

The worst part is that you weren't even dirty or didn't even look homeless to put a label on you and a reason for your addiction. You were just lost.

You looked like you just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

And also a bit injured, like you fought someone and they fought back.

The bus stopped in the station, and you sat up quickly, passing Nam-gyu in a rush to find a seat and sink into it.

Your perfume lingered in his nostrils for a second. It was the sweetest perfume he ever smelled.

He never saw you again ever since.

Until one week later, you were practically crouching in the bushes as you waited for the bus again.

Ironically, Nam-gyu was there as well, waiting for the same car.

You didn't recognize him—you were too busy feeding a small kitten that hid in there—However, he recognized you.

You looked high. But you also looked like you've been crying for the past few minutes, too.

He couldn't understand what your deal was and why you turned to the drugs. A beautiful face like yours could easily break from the substances. But his heart stirred in his chest when he saw the kindness you were offering to a small being and even missing the bus because of it, because now Nam-gyu was watching you through the window of the car as thoughts weighed against his mind.

He hasn't seen you again ever since. But there was always cat food between the bushes of the bus station.

And he knew you were the reason the bowls were filled.

He took this mental responsibility to make sure you were still alive, even if you didn't know him personally. You bringing kitty food every day and night to the kitten and its mama was proof enough that you were okay.

And one day, your world shattered on a random morning as you made your way to the kitten's crib.

The mama cat laid there, lifeless, with what looked like stone injuries.

You were high, but you didn't lack sympathy.

At that moment Nam-gyu was passing as well. He took a glimpse at the familiar figure in the bushes just to see you sobbing as you scattered flowers over the cat's body.

That broke his heart.

You tried your best to fight your high because now, as impulsive as it seemed, you hooked up the baby kitten in your arms and ran towards the bus station.

Your face was damp with tears, but the kitten kept meowing and biting at your finger, which made you smile.

Nam-gyu looked at you. He allowed himself to stare at this point.

You found it intimidating. It was maybe the drugs too that made you feel uneasy under his eyes, or the fact that you looked like a crying mess.

He spoke.

"Will you take it home?"

You nodded slowly, cradling the kitten better so he wouldn't take it away from you.

"I saw the cat... Kids these days don't know what politeness is."

You nodded again.

You didn't feel like making conversation, especially because you were on drugs and you'd babble the words awkwardly, so it's better for you to just shut your mouth for now.

He has started seeing you more often lately. Not because you were in the bus station, but because he wanted to have a drink or two every now and then.

And the club he used to work at had just the things.

You looked different throughout the nights. You weren't wearing your usual hoodie and sneakers combo; you dressed up nicely and looked like a totally different person.

He watched you. Not in a creepy way, more of a 'trying to keep you safe' way.

You were drugging yourself with hardcore drugs, something that confused the both of you on how your body resisted that kind of toxicity.

Every night you wore a different outfit. And you looked damn good in it, too.

But the drugs pulled you into alleys, and the alleys were full of people who had business with you... physically.

He knew if he didn't put a stop to that, you'll end up like him a year ago.

He didn't know why he felt obligated to protect you; he just found himself thinking about you during nights in his apartment.

Maybe it was the guilt and pity he felt towards you and towards himself, knowing how bad the substances made him reach his breaking point.

He didn't want that for you. You had a reason to live. You had a cat that you loved dearly.

On top of that, you were kind and selfless. Maybe you couldn't tell, but he could.

So one night he dragged you to the side. You couldn't see his face properly, and instinctively, you try to get away.

You put your palms over your face and mumbled stuff like "I'll bring your pills tomorrow" or "Please don't hurt me."

"What?—Here,okay,listen. I'm not here to hurt you, okay? Do you not remember me?"

You looked at him before shaking your head no, groaning slightly.

He nodded slowly before running a hand through his hair. "Okay, well—that's okay. I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to help."

You were understanding his words; you just didn't process the whole thing.

"Help how? I don't need help."

"You're a mess. You have bruises all over your arms, and your irises are practically nonexistent."

"So? I just want to live a little; I can't stay at home and do boring stuff. There's no one there other than me."

He looked at you before biting his lip for a moment.

"You have a cat."

You looked at him puzzled. How did he know?

"And I'm sure you both love each other very much, so...think about how it'd feel if you didn't come home because you were too beaten up in the back of a club."

"Mmm, well, I don't think C/N would like that..."

You tried to cling to the wall as you closed your eyes and let yourself slide down on it. The world felt like it was sucking you up.

"See? So why don't you go home for now?"

You shook your head again, your cheek softly hitting the wall you were leaning onto.

"I want to feel alive again..."

"And do substances make you feel that?"

You nodded. Well, this was gonna be harder than he thought.

For the past months, Nam-gyu took you under his wing. You became friends, and friends helped each other, right?

But you were extremely stubborn. He didn't realize how hard it was for people to deal with him until he started experiencing it with you.

You started to rely on him. Had a fight? You'd call Nam-gyu. Needed comfort? You'd call Nam-gyu. Withdrawal? You'd call Nam-gyu.

You got high? You'd still call Nam-gyu.

He was always watching you like you were some sort of glass. Like he saw through you.

In reality, he just saw himself.

And he wanted to help that mirror become at least a contrast. Because addiction almost ended his life. Somehow he got lucky with the games, but that luck wasn't promised to everyone.

He helped you. He tried, but you kept breaking the promises and the sober streaks.

Fortunately for you, he didn't give up.

That's how you found yourself in his apartment, patching up your fresh syringe marks.

"Why are you doing this?" You muffled your words with a sleeve against your lips.

He just looked at the patch before sighing softly.

"I'm your friend. That's what friends are for."

You just quietly sobbed, nodding slightly at his words.

Those were the good, quiet nights. The loud ones would be whenever you couldn't handle your high, so you had to fight against Nam-gyu and his yells.

You yelled back, you weren't scared.

"I don't need your help, Nam-gyu! I'm doing very fine!"

He would always protest, telling you how worn out you looked and how your features were being destroyed.

He loved your hair; he couldn't stand the thought of it falling apart because of some substances.

"You're killing yourself!"

"So what if I am, Nam-gyu? Why would you care that much anyways? Mind your own busin—"

But he didn't expect to be so sensitive about this topic.

"Because I see my reflection in your eyes, dumbass!"

You fell silent.

"I—I can see you, but it's like... With you, you're also carrying my old self that I fought so, so hard to change. I can't let you destroy yourself. Not like I did."

From that day you started being more considerate about him. You stopped caring only about your high and replaced it with his worry for you.

Whenever someone offered you pills, you'd see Nam-gyu's face in the back of your mind. That pulled you away.

You spent your days more often at his apartment, and he'd come to yours from time to time, too. You just didn't want to be alone. You couldn't trust yourself with the privilege of being on your own.

He loved C/N.

Withdrawals were messy, but he found a way to calm down your nerves. It took some time to find just the thingies, but they worked, and that's what matters.

[corpseontheloose]

Forbidden Feelings

pairing: Cho Hyun-ju x f!reader

Summary: Hyun-ju's been struggling to accept her sexuality, denying any feelings she had for women in fear of invalidating her trans journey. That doesn't change when she meets Y/N,her old and only friend that accepted her however she was,stirring feelings that she buried deep in the past

story notes: the reader is afab, but you can interpret this however you want :>

A/N: this story was inspired by Good Luck, Babe! By Chappell Roan, therefore it's gonna contain lyrics from the song molded to fit the story dialogues or sentences. Any lyrics from the song will be bold. I hate this, I might rewrite it at some point :3

warnings: internalized homophobia, transphobia, boundary pushing, death

Beneath the softly glowing lanterns of a spring evening in South Korea, Hyun‑Ju stood at the edge of a dark river. The breeze teased loose strands of her dark hair, carrying with it the fragrance of blooming cherry blossoms. She closed her eyes, letting the gentle murmur of flowing water calm a restlessness she had carried deep within her mind.

Hyun‑ju flooded her thoughts with owed money and unpaid debts that were still not crossed off the list. She needed to take a moment and summarize the events one by one tonight as she held in her hand a single yellow, weird-looking card, its contents just simple designs, unfamiliar.

In the distance, the lanterns along the riverbank flickered as people drifted past, enjoying the evening’s calm. Each face seemed both familiar and strange to Hyun‑ju, as though the whole city had shifted while she was looking away. The card pressed cold against her palm, an invitation—or perhaps a death sentence. ────୨ৎ────

A sudden alarm and a million thoughts had risen between large walls; groans and confusion spoke louder than any explanation of what was happening or what was about to happen.

Y/N shivered in bed, wiping off a low-quality blanket from her shoulders as her clothes, with an unusual scent of bleach, itched at her skin. An uncomfortable way of waking up from whatever sleeping trance she was in, with a thousand questions blooming in her beautiful head, making up her own answers that seemed the most logical in that moment.

No, they weren't true, most of her theories at least. Because just as everyone gathered in front of the big gates of the room, any answer she came up with in such a short time was just as quickly shattered into pieces by a few masked people in pink uniforms and shape-looking masks.

She drew herself dangerously close to them, the pink-uniformed people, pushing others out her way, trying to get to the bottom of this and hopefully reach home soon, escaping this abomination.

It wasn't until everything was cleared by the so-called guards with terrifying voices and menacing figures. Every confusion, every question, all the answers people were looking for, placed in a pot, ready to hit them in the face with the ugly truth. Any desire to return home was wrecked at that moment.

"That's basically kidnapping! it's not fair. How are we supposed to believe you're telling the truth?"

A somewhat familiar voice tingled through Y/N's eardrums. Something that dragged her back years ago, on a random Thursday evening in the city's sound waves of everyone passing by, laughs, whispers, talks. Soft car honkings from afar. The smell of wind picked off nostalgic scents of cinnamon and vanilla from a nearby bakery.

She didn't have the heart to turn against her shoulder, find the face whose voice belonged to. A voice that stirred whimsical recollections of something she tried so hard to bury.

"A safety precaution for you and the games, including us in addition."

A series of complaints filled the space one after another, from personal objects being taken away to uniform protests and family sob stories, not one earning sympathy from the pink-uniformed guards. Instead, after the waters came to an end, everyone lined up to sign the agreement—a death certificate— of performing these infamous games.

It felt as if the walls themselves were closing in. And while the pride hung stiff in the air, radiating from every single player whose hands weren't shaking while signing the papers, convinced they'll be the next winner of this race for money, the voice awoken Y/N from her thoughts once again.

"Y/N...?"

No, that wasn't happening. That was not supposed to happen.

"Hyun-ju..."

She dragged the name like balls with heavy chains rattled with it.

"What are you doing here?"

A tall, beautiful woman with medium-length hair was standing in front of Y/N, someone who knows a thing or two about her... Or like two hundred things.

"I..."

There was no point in lying here. Not now.

"... I'm in debt. Just like everyone else around here."

"In debt? Wait—wait, I'm confused. What happened with all the money your family owned? How did you even reach this level?"

Shame overflowed Y/N. She didn't know the answer herself, not to her lie, at least.

"I tried to be independent, for a while, that is. I couldn't claw at my parents' money forever."

Hyun-ju understood, a small part of it, but it was better than nothing. She knew how it felt to be on her own; the only income she depended on was now cut off, as the military wasn't providing for people like her, even after serving more than her life on a plate for her country.

"It's a surprise to see you here, to be honest."

Hyun-ju addmited with hesitation in her voice.

────୨ৎ────

More of a surprise was the end of the first game and the panic it created within the amount of bodies and people that were still alive with a chance of escaping this, what they called, a scam. Hearts were palpitating in the chests of those who had to witness not only a murder scene but also a future reference of what they would look like if they kept on going with what they signed for.

Sweat dripped on their foreheads, adrenaline was rushing in some veins, and others were breaking down in shock. That's how you know it has begun. Not what they were expecting, but exactly what they were promised.

Y/N felt a motion of sickness taking over her, guilt tripping over and over, stumbling upon every moral she held. She didn't do anything to help others, but she could've, just like player 456 did. But no, it melted her down into a pile of jello the moment guns were fired and blood splattered on her clothes.

With pleas and begs towards the guards, she kindly asked to go see the bathroom in order to not throw up on the floor and make a fool out of herself after successfully getting out alive in a life-or-death situation she was submitted to.

Hesitantly, they let her. And now she gripped the sink like there was no guarantee for tomorrow. She desperately tried to wash off the blood that stained her tracksuit in a horrifying manner, clinging onto the material like a reminder that people died around her.

It drove her to insanity, almost. Her sobs and forced sweeps of toilet paper and water were in vain, as the red remained stuck on the fabric. It stank. Like metal, of some sort.

And finally, when Y/N decided that enough was enough, she frustratingly tossed the tissues in the sink with a low groan as her track jacket fell on the ground. She dove into the cold water she held in her palms, washing up her face as if tears didn't brutally drown her already.

Until another click of the door made its presence.

And silence settled in for a moment or two.

"Are you okay?"

It was Hyun-ju, with a puzzled look on her face as her lips parted slightly, seeing Y/N shaken up from the fresh massacre that just happened.

That was the last drop for her.

As Y/N raised her head from the sink, her face wet and cold, watching the woman standing behind her in the mirror, she exploded. Despair snuck up on her and caged her in a loop of sobs and cries that made her slip down onto the floor, holding the sink for support that, in the end, didn't help her.

"Woah! Alright, It's fine, it's cool. I got you. It's okay."

Y/N held onto the sink as if it brought back the lives she was mourning, while Hyun-ju held her, slowly taking her hands off the ceramic being. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to do this, but Hyun-ju felt like a hug was needed with or without any consent given in that moment.

"I lied, Hyun-ju! I was never rich; we never owned big money! Hell, we weren't even middle class to begin with!—"

She admitted through sobs, getting out every lie she exposed to Hyun-ju in the past.

"—We were so poor. So, so poor, debt piled up even when my dad stopped gambling. The company he worked for came for his ass; they fired him!"

Back in the old days of early adulthood, when Y/N and Hyun-ju were attached to the hip, Y/N never, not for once, thought about coming bare naked about the truth of her family and how bad their situation was. So she lied. Not just to Hyun-ju, but to everyone else around her.

She shamelessly called herself rich, trying to make herself feel better around other people who weren't bad themselves with their money situation. Her head made up humiliating scenarios if anyone ever found out about her dad's addiction to gambling machines and spread playing cards on casino tables.

Their friendship didn't end for that reason, not at all. The two girls really just drifted apart after a naive love confession Y/N made towards Hyun-ju in their youth.

Y/N was always supportive of her friends, especially Hyun-ju, who came with hands clean and open about her woman transition. Hyun-ju appreciated that. It was a gift. Something not even her parents could've blessed her with.

But that evening, oh, that evening, when everything went downhill as Y/N owned up to her feelings. Fear was something everyone tried to stay very far away from, but most of the time it's inevitable and hard to miss, hard to dodge.

That's what overwhelmed Hyun-ju. Fear. And that's what held them estranged until today. Now Y/N was scattered on the cement, held by Hyun-ju and a strand of hope that made her believe she could get out of here before experiencing the end of her days.

Hyun-ju shushed her in the softest way possible. Although she was practically born and raised in harsh discipline, guiding her subordinates and teaching them how breaking down like this could get them in serious trouble on the field, something tugged at her heartstrings with people she held dear. She had to remember unwillingly every day that military and ordinary life weren't the same.

As minutes passed on the clock, Y/N's exhaustion grew cold in her bones as well as her sobs died slowly. Half because the cement was abnormally icy and half because this wasn't something she planned ahead of time. To feel Hyun-ju again.

"Think I'm gonna call it off—"

Y/N finally sighs after a full-time crying session in her long-lost former friend's arms.

"—I just need a little air..."

Hyun-ju gradually found the strength to untangle her arms from Y/N's body, as longing for her familiar warmth was picking at her, bullying her into feeling this nostalgic sentiment she didn't even know she had.

"I didn't mean to create a scene with... Someone I used to be very close with in the past"

"Y/N..."

Hyun-ju spoke gently, getting Y/N to exchange life situations that were occurring in the present time as if their lives weren't calculated by the fate of the games and a massive piggy bank, shapeshifting people into stacks of thin papers.

────୨ৎ────

The next day stopped by faster than they could've guessed. Plans were made, alliances were formed, sides were picked, and games continued. Again, and again, and again.

Y/N struggled to keep up with this insane ideology that the mastermind, or whoever made this game, had created. It turned her stomach upside down in ways she couldn't describe, and, on top of that, people voted for this game to continue in its devilish ways of earning money.

She wasn't approached by a lot; counted on one hand, two men asked her if she wanted to join their team. Deep inside, with all the self-awareness she possessed about this being a bad idea, Hyun-ju was one of the people she wanted to hold close during tough times like this.

She even got eyed up by a purple-haired guy who, she presumed, had problems with staying in one place. It seemed like he wasn't that affected by the games or what was happening around him.

She kindly declined his offer as well, not wanting to be stuck with a ball of energy and his group that looked way off.

"Well, the clock is ticking, and you'll be left with no partner! Which is a shame; you're a beautiful catch, Señorita!"

"Guess I'm the fool, then."

She replied somewhat sarcastically, marching off to find Hyun-ju.

"Wouldn't want you all bloody on here. But, your choice. Good luck, babe!" He drifted off to his group of people, leaving Y/N hopeless. And she was wandering, trying to morph herself into something she wasn't, just to be picked in a group as the timer counted down constantly. Until she sees her.

Just as alone as Y/N, Hyun-ju swayed among the groups defeatedly, no one looking at her as more than a piece of junk, a monster, or a freak. At that point she was fully convinced this was the end of her line.

That before spotting Y/N, who looked up at her with the same face she walked with. Eyes spoke louder than words, so it didn't take long for them to find the right words to pair up, not in such a time crunch. It was simple, awkward, but it worked in their favor, and that's what matters.

────୨ৎ────

They made it out alive, but at what cost? At what cost, when innocent people fell apart in sticky puddles of blood, finding their forever slumber just because of a wrong move and a timer on a wall?

At what cost, when the only thing that keeps others going is more people that turn into money? At what cost, when betrayal and death knock at your doors only to shut them down until they strike you through the window?

Y/N was flipping through the two colors, big enough to get tattooed in her brain and cause nightmares. X and O, X and O... Beep and beep. Two sounds ready to haunt the rest of her living life.

God, it was infuriating. It was raw, wild even, how they put themselves out there and how they shoved people down into their tombs just for the sake of a full bank account.

Those thoughts are what Y/N gets at night, swirling and twisting in her uncomfortable mattress that probably held a multitude of other unfairly punished people who found their end in-between those walls. Her thoughts pulled her by the cords, being the only time she's able to just let everything run inside her mind other than worrying about another game.

Her psyche snaps at the vision of Hyun-ju. How much they interacted these past few days and how feelings from lives ago decided to show up once again unexpectedly.

And she blamed herself for that. She blamed herself for loving a woman that loud and clear told her she likes men. Not women, not her... but men.

And it made sense, didn't it? For a woman to feel the need, to want a man near her. Especially Hyun-ju, who's going through a hard time with her transition. Whose family let her down, as well as friends who couldn't accept her. It made sense to desire a warm feeling that you're safe, finally, in someone's arms.

It only made sense for a woman to want a man. And Y/N was the broken one out here, thinking Hyun-ju would look at her the way she's been wishing for. It gravitated her back to their last conversation before parting ways, before the games, before everything...

"You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth. Did—did I catch the hints wrong?"

Hyun-ju's eyes darted over Y/N's lips for a moment, not being able to say or do anything, not being able to protest those words. Not because they were real, but because she didn't know how to approach such a subject.

"This date is super important to me, and I'm already late. I don't wanna call it off, Y/N!"

Hyun-ju fights back as the color red fills her cheeks.

"But you don't wanna call it love either! What's with you and those excessive dates with men, Hyun-ju? The ones you describe as the most awful dates yet, somehow, you're still ending up with one every weekend."

She didn't want to remember anything else from that moment; it was too much vulnerability between them, and both Y/N and Hyun-ju decided, to avoid any more fights and one-sided feelings, they're better off as...not-so-close friends.

Only Y/N knows how much she cried that night. The feeling of a one-sided love, stabbing her in the back after their friendship held onto so much tension between them.

────୨ৎ────

Another damned, cursed morning peeked at the walls, unable to shine any light from the sun in what seemed like a never-ending cycle of plain foods and killing sprees.

Y/N felt better, maybe for a minute or two, as Geum-ja, said Player 149,cheered everyone in her team. She was like a fresh breath of air; even at her old age and tired eyes, you could tell she grew attached to everyone in this small group. She viewed everyone as if they were her children, young and scared, searching for their moms. And Geum-ja knew how to be that mom.

"You never told us how you two met! You must've had a great friendship before all of this"

Y/N and Hyun-ju looked at each other awkwardly before returning their eyes to Geum-ja and the rest of the group, who looked just as curious about their story.

"It's a pretty long story, really..."

Hyun-ju stated, rubbing her hands together softly as she tried her best not to dig up anything from the past.

Anyone could sense the tension between Hyun-ju and Y/N, even them. It was more of an anxious feeling,

chest becoming a restless sea, each wave a spinning thought—a windstorm erupting inside their ribs, pounding like thunder. It ached. Painfully. Like an unfinished story that held onto unwritten parts, left to dangle on a cliff and desperately searching for an ending.

"Yeah. We met during high school before she got enrolled in the military. I was scared, I thought she was going to die!"

Y/N continued as her lips parted in a small grin, followed by the cutest chuckle.

"Every time she came back home, I'd make her promise to live during the next deployment"

The memories stirred inside Hyun-ju like it was yesterday, though it was countless years ago. She remembers how close Y/N was with her family and how excited she always was whenever they asked her to join them to greet and celebrate Hyun-ju's return.

She remembers the night she was discharged from the military's grip. Honorably, but in silence. She returned home with swollen eyes and a fear of seeing her parents. She already knew what happened the last time. How her mother sobbed in her pillow while her father disowned every single molecule of hers like she wasn't his own child.

Her things were scattered at the door harshly. That's when she broke down, crying quietly at the house's doorsteps as if her sobs were stuck in her throat, asphyxiating her chest and shaking her entire body.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

And now she was stuck in a loop of deaths without knowing if she, or anyone in this group, would be next. It terrified her.

But it also made her and Y/N grow close again. Not like before, no, but closer than they were before this abyss. They were awkward, but they still searched for each other during the games or during the nights whenever anything but comfort crept within their minds and twisted so badly it caused too much anxiety to bear.

"What about boyfriends? I'm sure you were talking about handsome men in your youth"

"Mom, you can't ask that!" Yong-sik panicked before earning an uninterested nod from her.

Y/N's cheeks flushed red, as well as Hyun-ju's. The air was now thinner, caught in a breath that simply couldn't get out.

"I never had a relationship before"

Y/N says bluntly, shrugging slowly with a cheeky smile on her lips.

"I always admired one person only, and I think I was doomed to be that way"

She watched Hyun-ju as her breath hitched. It was so heavy to grasp for air as it was too thick to be inhaled in her lungs before Hyun-ju spoke.

"And I never really found the right man... They didn't like the idea of a woman having a bigger bulge than them"

The conversation would've kept going if the voice from the speakers didn't break the walls with its loud announcements for the next game. It made both Hyun-ju and Y/N look at each other, almost longingly, before following up with the program.

────୨ৎ────

After the slaughter that the game caused, everyone returned almost morbidly back in the room. Some people were crawling on their knees, begging the guards to let them out, while others watched the scene with irrational faces. It was like they absolutely forgot why they were here or what happened just a moment ago, their brain blocking the trauma for a minute or two.

It was amazing what shock could do to the human brain.

Y/N sat on her bed, shaking. It wasn't the first time she saw death close to her eyes. At this point, you get used to it, but it still messes with your head until you can't handle it anymore. People were losing their minds here, and only a few seemed somehow alright and stable. Barely. But it was so much better than the chaos from others.

And just like that, Young-mi was gone.

Just like that, the group fell into a grieving silence, almost dead. Their breaths were ragged; it burned to even inhale, and you coughed when you exhaled. You just lost the sweetest soul from your group, and you had to act like it was nothing.

You had to act like this isn't what you signed for in the first place.

Sweat was damp on everyone's foreheads, as well as blood stuck on their shoes, making sticky sounds, following them wherever they walked.

Y/N counted the remaining hours until the next game, and for the next chance someone could get her killed. Or even die by her own hands, for that matter.

They knew voting X wouldn't do anything, but for the peace of their minds, they wanted to at least try, once again, to stop the hellish games that excavated in their skin. They engraved something deeper than anything a tattoo could do, and they were sure as hell it'll be hard to wash it off. If it would ever come out...

Players spent time together. Maybe because they feared what tomorrow was going to be like, or maybe to distract them from the recent events that filled their veins with sadness or anger.

Hyun-ju took a moment before deciding the silence of the group around her was too loud in her head, uncomfortable even. So she decided that being silent on her own, at least for a while, would be better. So she retreated to her bunk bed and laid there for what felt like an eternity.

And Y/N knew that's her way of doing it. It always has been. Hyun-ju didn't grieve loudly; she would close herself off until she felt ready to get out of that trance herself. The military shaped her like that...

So she didn't bother her peace.

────୨ৎ────

Deep in the night, Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her mattress. It was like the springs had nothing better to do than torture her whenever she tried to get her restless but promised sleep.

Her breath is like a soft drum against the hush that surrounds her—each inhale a plea, each exhale a surrender.

No position worked for her, switching to the left, back to the right before finding the left side again. And again. The tracksuit stuck on her body like a hungry leech. The smell of blood was something she got used to after a while, but it still poked at her lungs, reminding her she's still here with everyone else and not at home, wearing her favorite cozy sweatshirt.

The night grows thick. Time becomes elastic—minutes stretch into hours, and she feels the bed creak. Not from any physical weight, but from the weight of unsaid thoughts and growing frustration, picking at her skin, tugging at her scalp, driving her into overwhelming emotions she is unable to escape.

No, she couldn't lose her mind here. That would just prove them right, and she's not that kind of person. She was still sane, she was still here, nowhere near the end of her life yet.

So, hardly, she got up. The sudden motions messing with her head as the image starts spinning for a moment. She needed to get rid of this sickening smell of blood and the salty sweat from her forehead as soon as possible.

The guards weren't exactly the biggest fans of letting people out during lights out, but they grew used to Y/N and her usual bathroom trips throughout the night, as well as the day. While signing up for the games, they were also assured they have equal rights to everything, including the bathroom whenever they asked.

That's how Y/N found herself wiping her body using hand soap and toilet paper, cleaning any stains and any sweat that clung to her flesh. Her hair was a mess. Strands everywhere. She could still smell the hairspray she used a few days ago, before this whole thing started.

It reminded her of life.

Her bra hung loosely on her shoulders, hugging her bare skin slightly. Her tee was thoughtlessly thrown somewhere on the sink, trying to absorb the soap's aroma that was oddly comforting.

Her forehead searched for the mirror in hopes to find something colder than the water that was aggressively hitting the inside of the sink, cooling down her running thoughts and placing a finish line right when she found the sensation.

It wasn't soft nor silent, the groan that escaped her lips. It was exhausting. But she needed to let that out. She needed to gather her scrambled brain together before returning back to bed; otherwise, she'd be stuck in the same position she tried so hard to leave.

The bathroom door opened. Not rushed, just reckless and inconsiderate, making Y/N jump from her trance.

"Shit!" she gasped, placing a hand over her almost bare chest as she turned around to face the accuser.

Hyun-ju's face drops at the sight of Y/N and her wet body. The flesh kind of sparkled in the flickering faint light, making Hyun-ju raise her hand and instinctively wipe her mouth, under her nose, in embarrassment.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

She looked just as hectic as Y/N was when she kicked open the doors and ran right inside.

"Looks like you just love following me in the bathroom all the time. Are you okay? You seem agitated," Y/N asked, turning off the tap water and wiping her hands off. She had a slight amused grin on her face, but she was still worried for her.

Hyun-ju brushed it off, however, shrugging and shaking her head lazily with the same stupid smile on her lips.

"No, I'm okay—I'm okay. Just very frustrated and... angry."

Y/N nodded. She understood perfectly. She was angry, too. Being here caused more bad than whatever good she thought it would be with all the money. But the price they paid was much riskier than a full life of debt they drowned in.

"I get it, really. I feel every drop of my sanity leak every minute I stay here."

Hyun-ju's eyes ran over Y/N's body and how perfect it looked with almost nothing on it. Her bra clinging to her arms, the pants capturing her leg forms so gracefully, her hair slightly wet and forcefully arranged with her fingers dug in the strands, taming them.

She forgot about this, about her. Reminiscences hurt her head, making her surroundings insufferable. She couldn't take her eyes off. Not now. Not after so much time has passed.

"You smell like lavender—" she managed to say before getting cut off.

"Hyun-ju..." Y/N whispered, backing up slightly before mumbling.

"You have that look on your face again..."

"What look?"

"You know what look..."

"I don't think I know"

"... the look that destroyed our friendship, unnie."

Hard. That's how much those words hurt. Hard. Bad. Like the rattling balls with chains hit her right in the stomach, smashing her organs and leaving her to bleed on a cold floor.

That's how bad it hurt.

"Y/N, I..."

She couldn't. Hyun-ju couldn't betray herself like that; she couldn't destroy the only thing that truly proved she's a woman.

"... I don't know what you're talking about."

She knew exactly what Y/N was talking about; she just couldn't admit it. And that just made them jump back to the old days when their relation vanished. So she brushed past her, wanting nothing more than to soak her face in cold water and stop the feelings from crashing into her.

"Of course you don't. When did you?"

Y/N snapped with a frustrated clap of her hands.

"Enough of that."

Hyun-ju warned, swinging the water open and dipping her hands in the streaming flow.

"Come on, Hyun-ju. Make a new excuse, find another stupid reason!"

The taller woman sighed as she grew more and more annoyed at Y/N. She couldn't bear the truth, not even a little bit.

"Y/N."

"No, Hyun-ju! You can kiss a hundred boys in bars! Hell, even shoot another shot just to... try to stop the feeling! You can say it's just the way you are, into men and only men, but—"

"Y/N, I said enough!"

Hyun-ju wasn't the type to raise her tone, almost never. The only time she used to speak loud was back when the sergeant title hung above her head, but other than that, Hyun-ju was too soft-spoken. Lately she would lose her temper more easily than before; for example, when she yelled at Myung-gi. The games probably stressed her just enough to twist her brains like this...

So Y/N closed her mouth shut, gluing her lips together before tears formed in the corner of her eyes. Tears she held for too much. Tears that she wouldn't allow to let out.

She stifled her sobs before lowering her voice, cracking with every word that left her mouth.

"Fine! Keep meeting up with those... horrible guys that treat you like nothing! Even if you call it love!"

She needed a moment to catch her breath, looking desperately defeated at Hyun-ju, who only looked in the reflection of the mirror in front of her.

"Go find your perfect, lovely husband you are so desperately looking for! But when you'll wake up next to him in the middle of the night?"

She caught her breath.

"With your head in your hands? And realize you're nothing more than his fucking wife?"

Y/N rushed to grab and pick up her t-shirt from across the sink, leaving Hyun-ju alone in the bathroom. Not before giving her a last look and a few last words.

"And when you think about me, all of those years ago, you're going to be standing face to face with 'I told you so'..."

Y/N was quick to put back the tee over her head as she walked back in the huge room with everyone else in it. Her heart was pounding harshly against her chest,hurting every inch of her body. She knew tomorrow's game would be filled with awkward glances and mumblings.

What she didn't know though was that Hyun-ju, with a look rather vanquished stuck on her face, was now fighting against hot tears in the corner of her eyes, too.

────୨ৎ────

Hide-and-Seek. Shouldn't be too hard, right? We all played the game when we were little, and we were all pretty good at it, too. It was easy...

Except, in the younger years, there were no knives to stab people in the back or keys to unlock doors with. Ironically, it wouldn't make sense. But it does to them. And they rule the games, after all.

The harsh fluorescent lights flicker overhead. Y/N stands among a group of contestants, all clad in identical green tracksuits, faces tight with anxiety. The only differences were the bloodstains, differing from person to person. A masked guard in pink walks in front of the room, accompanied by a few other pink-uniformed people behind them.

Y/N looks up, her heart hammering. A big gumball machine was revealed, filled with matte plastic balls—half red, half blue. The room is silent, tension spiking in the air.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches in. She pulls out a blue ball.

The blue team. The hiders. The unlucky.

Looking back at Hyun-ju and the rest of her group, she could sense the overflowing panic growing within the assigned roles among them. Luckily, they had a chance for a switch-up, but not everyone got that lucky to erase their roles and reassign with a new color.

Jun-hee was naive for giving up her role.

Ever since last night, Hyun-ju and Y/N barely spoke. Nothing more than a soft good morning or an escape plan. She still looked at the tall woman with indifference. It hurts her, however.

A huge door rumbles open, revealing a twisted, childlike arena—an oversized playground. Giant walls with colorful handprints on them. Tunnels and stairs taking them to the unknown.

Y/N's instincts scream at her to move. She glances at the other Blue Team members—faces blank, eyes already scanning for cover.

Hyun-ju was quick to gather the group and lead them around for safety, moving from room to room, opening and closing doors. Jun-hee was slower; she didn't feel good, but Geum-ja and Y/N made sure to have her back at every sound.

Somewhere behind, a second buzzer sounds. The Seeker phase has begun.

Heavy steps hit the ground.

And the game begins.

Nauseating sounds of metal echoed at every corner. A knife drop, a stabbing, a murder...

The entire space was stuffed with guttural screams and cries, pleas, and last words. The little cracks on the walls were each and there were filling good enough with all the horror shrieks, but that didn't stop Y/N or any other person from her group.

The warehouse air was thick with dust and tension. It smelled like rust and fear. Shadows stretched long between columns and walls. There were sudden loud cries until they clicked off with a finality that made the silence more terrifying than sound.

Hyun-ju hovered behind a crate, her eyes scanning the shadows. Every flicker of movement could mean death, and she was not risking that. Somewhere nearby, the red team was hunting.

Behind her, Jun-hee whimpered again, crouched low with one arm bracing her pregnant belly. Her contractions were coming faster now. Harder. More painful. Y/N held her hand as Geum-ja praised her and assured her that everything was going to be okay.

The tall woman led like she was born for this. Until a voice from behind her broke.

"Hyun-ju..." Jun-hee’s voice broke. "I—I can't..."

"You can," Hyun-ju whispered sharply, not unkindly. Her voice was iron wrapped in silk. "You just have to make it a little further. We're almost there, I promise."

Jun-hee nodded, tears slipping down her face. Next to her, Geum-ja and Y/N kept on praising her good work and how strong she is for carrying such weight around like it was nothing. With an injured leg, too. Deep down Jun-hee felt proud. It felt good knowing she had people that cared for her.

Then a sound—footsteps. Fast. Heavy.

Hyun-ju stood slowly, a switchblade she'd pried off a dead player clenched tight in her fist. Her breathing slowed. Her shoulders dropped. She wasn’t afraid—not anymore. She didn’t have the luxury of fear.

A red team player rounded the corner, a blur of red and black. He spotted them instantly and sprinted forward, blade raised towards them. It was sharp, shiny, smudged with blood, and a life he took with it.

Hyun-ju moved like a current of water—silent, precise. She met him head-on, stepping into his charge rather than retreating. The impact rattled her bones, but she counted on instinct, slammed her elbow into his throat, twisted his wrist, and sent the knife clattering.

Y/N, she watched the image, horrified.

He fought back, punching hard, wild, panicked. She took a hit to the jaw, staggered, then drove her knee into his stomach. He gasped. She didn’t wait—just drove the blade into his side and twisted until the fight went out of him.

He dropped, twitching.

Y/N gulped, adrenaline running in her veins like she was the one who fought the guy.

"Shit..." she cursed under her breath, looking at his lifeless body before helping Jun-hee up.

Hyun-ju, on the other hand, didn't seem that shaken up. She killed before. With her own hands. This was their second red player down, but it still looked like the worst-case scenario in a really badly written book.

A few doors here, some halls in there—it felt like running in circles, trying to survive a massacre with your name on it.

Jun-hee couldn't handle it anymore. The baby was coming, and the game was not going to stop for a delivering baby, so, whether they wanted to or not, they had to halt into one of the rooms there.

Jun-hee knelt on a nest of floors in the dim light, her fingers tangled at the edge of a wall, jaw clenched against the next wave that came, tearing up through her like fire turned inside out. Her back arched. Her breath hissed. Sweat ran in rivers down her spine and forehead.

Beside her, Geum-ja and Y/N stood calm and still, catching each whispered curse and broken sob with the same hands they would soon use to catch the child. Geum-ja's voice was low, steady, and soft. “You’re doing it. You’re not alone.”

Another contraction crashed through her. Jun-hee grunted, bearing down with a sound pulled from the deep of her gut—more beast than woman, more warrior than anything. The pain split her, and yet she bore it, rode it, let it break over her until it passed. Until she was left panting, trembling, still.

Panic mixed with excitement and happiness was giving Y/N and others the hope of living, as they brought another life here on earth. It was like it almost meant something...

Hyun-ju cradled the child in her arms as Jun-hee rested across the floor, and suddenly, life made sense. Maybe not for her, but it made sense why she needed to keep fighting.

She couldn't help but look at the tiny being and see something she wouldn't be able to create with her own body. Ever. That fractured her heart until there was no cure that could help it shape back the way it was.

There is a quiet grief between Hyun-ju and Y/N—who knew how Hyun-ju felt holding the baby in her arms—a grief not always spoken aloud, not always understood by the world around them. The soft yearning to nurture life from within. The ache to feel the flutter of a tiny heartbeat beneath your own ribs. It was a sorrowful dream that will forever feel out of reach for Hyun-ju.

But then reality hit, and they realized they needed to get out of there as soon as possible, take the newborn to safety, and save it from any potential harm. Hyun-ju stood up, ready to go find another way to the exit before someone grabbed her hand.

"I'll go with you."

Hyun-ju was quick to protest against her words. They already fought last night. She was in no mood to hear any more of her complaints. Not after last night. Not now when the situation was as bad as it was already.

"Who's going to look out for them?"

"Geum-ja's knife is enough to keep them safe for a bit until we get back. Hyun-ju, you need someone to have your back!"

Hyun-ju stood still for a long moment, her eyes locked with Y/N’s. The world around them seemed to blur—the noise, the child, the chaos, the uncertainty—all of it faded under the weight of this quiet, necessary pause. She then nodded her head, dragging them both to the next room.

Luckily enough, as Y/N looked closely, she saw the huge 'Exit' sign above a complicated locked door. Hyun-ju's hands ripped the necklaces off her throat, understanding that the keys she held were the only way for this door to open.

"Quick..." Y/N whispered, looking behind her.

"Y/N, I... Listen," Hyun-ju started as she introduced the keys in each one of the keyholes.

"I don't want to talk about last night, Hyun-ju. Just leave it as it is..."

"Please, just..."

Behind them, a man crept silently with his knife in the air, ready to attack. If it wasn't for Y/N pushing him slightly, they would've been dead by now. The man managed to stab Y/N's hands, earning nothing more than an earsplitting scream.

"Shit! Fuck!" she cursed, seeing how the blood dripped from her open palms.

The keys scattered on the floor right after the man hit, but Y/N couldn't quite get them, not even close. Her eyes were heavy and fuzzy from the tears as the bleeding continued.

Hyun-ju, on the other hand, did what she knew best. Fight. Protect herself. But a feeling that she wasn't going to make it persisted over her mind. Like something was telling her she couldn't fight this forever.

"Y/N, listen—"

Another hit.

"I love you, Y/N!"

Another twist.

"I've always loved you! I just couldn't—"

Then a leg stab. Hyun-ju's leg.

Ragged whimpers. Love confessions. Regrets. Everything is floating in the air, except for life. It was like death was pulling at them both.

And Hyun-ju wasn't the type to break easily, but she did anyway. Tears tickled the corner of her eyes softly, trying hard to not let that distract her from the man she was fighting with.

It's not like she could go back now, rewind everything and never spill the secret out loud. It was too late for that.

Moments later, the attacker was down while they were still up, breathing. Well, not really up, but they were still alive. Hyun-ju limped towards Y/N before leaning over a wall as her leg stung in pain.

Hyun-ju exhaled once. Just once.

She wasn't just ugly crying, she was hideously sobbing.

"I couldn't do it, Y/N. I couldn't accept that loving a woman would make me feel less than one!"

Her breath was quick; she inhaled and exhaled rapidly as her hands, shaky as they were, reached for Y/N's to help her up.

"What are you saying there? What?"

"Y/N, I was scared! I was afraid people would see me less than a woman if I dated one!"

"Nothing—nothing would ever make you less than a woman, Hyun-ju! You're already the most beautiful one I know!"

She cried. The stress, the pain, and the confession, all mixed together, brimming Y/N.

"I thought loving a man would make me feel better about myself! That's what the norm is about, no? A happy married couple, a man and a woman! I just wanted to be valid in their eyes!"

The voice was breaking Y/N's heart in two. She didn't know what to say; she couldn't find the right words at all. Everything came too fast, too sudden.

"Who cares what they say, Hyun-ju? It's your life, not theirs! Live it the way you want it to be lived!"

She clung to Hyun-ju's body as her hands bled over the floor and walls, as well as their white shoes. The sound of droplets was faint.

"I've always wanted to live my life with you, Y/N! Fuck, I'd have to stop the world just to stop the feelings I have for you!"

With tears in her eyes and a mumbling voice, Y/N managed to gesture for her to go bring Jun-hee and Geum-ja so they could all finally escape.

"Go, it's going to be okay! I'll open the door, and I'll wait for you right here! We can talk when we get to safety!"

Hyun-ju was skeptical for a moment.

"I promise I'll be okay, unnie!"

Limps. Limping and stumbling over the floor, Hyun-ju was grabbing at the walls, holding herself enough to balance. Y/N tried her best to pick up the keys, but with her mutilated, shaky hands, it became ten times harder.

Everything was going to be alright. They fought the evil. They found the door. Hyun-ju's breathlessly voice from the other room was light, almost like a whisper, until it stopped.

A familiar scream from Geum-ja got Y/N's attention, before turning on her heels and walking in the hall,seeing her worst nightmare come true.

Just as she was about to fight the guy, he was quick to vanish with some other dude, leaving the other two women unharmed. Y/N threw the keys carelessly and rushed to the door before falling down to her knees.

"No! No, no, no, no! Please, please no! Not you! Please!"

Her shaky hands shook her face slightly before gripping at her cheeks as tears swelled in her eyes,ignoring any pain her body was signaling.

"Please, not you! Please, unnie!"

And there she was.

"Unnie!"

Bloodied.

"Unnie, please!"

Killed with two stabs,

"Wake up!"

Lifeless.

"Please!"

The love of her life,

"Unnie!"

Her Hyun-ju.

[corpseontheloose]

Girl if any of you know how to write sexual themes, pls write some dry humping with pre!bottom surgery Hyun-ju x f!reader PLEASEEEEEE FOR MY ASEXUAL ASS GAHAGAHAGAHAGH 🖐️ 🖐️ WITH THIS ROMANTIC ATMOSPHERE IN THEIR APARTMENT, ON THE COUCH YKYK AND THERE'S JUST A WARM FAINT LIGHT COMING FROM THE KITCHEN YKYK. NO SMUT 🙏 🙏 JUST INTENSE DRY HUMPING WITH LOTS OF HICKEYS

And pls tag me or repost this when you write it so I can read it 🙏

[corpseontheloose]

Silly syringes ── .✦

summary: You met Nam-gyu during a bad time of his life, probably the worst he's ever been, but somehow you pulled him away from that grasp. Now everything left from that are memories and scars

A/N: pls don't do drugs kids

Warnings: past drug usage/addiction (on Nam-gyu's side), scars, bad habits, domestic!nam-gyu

Pairing: Nam-gyu x reader

You met Nam-gyu on a random Friday night in the club he worked at. He walked like he owned the place, which half of that statement was true.

You weren't big on clubs. Parties? Kind of. If that meant just you and your usual friend group. But clubs? It was a whole different story.

You couldn't blend in with the others. You were pretty awkward, and, truthfully speaking, you enjoyed sitting at the bar and sipping from your drink much more than breaking your head on the music.

You were on your first drink as you tapped the rhythm of the playing song on the counter using your finger, swinging your head on the beat, and, if you were lucky enough to hear a song you were familiar with, you'd softly mouth the lyrics.

Your friends were out there, somewhere. You just couldn't see them.

"Not a big fan of dancing?" You suddenly hear a voice from the other side of the counter. He wasn't the bartender that served you earlier, but he still looked like he worked here.

He picked up a few shot glasses and started wiping them, making sure they were extra clean.

"Not really, I'm more of a drink enjoyer" you replied, smiling stupidly.

He only smiled back at your words before throwing away the paper towel somewhere under the counter as he leaned across the bar.

"Want another one?"

He nudged with his head at your almost empty glass, the straw resting over absolutely nothing.

You raised an eyebrow, thinking for a minute before nodding your head.

He carefully picked up the glass and washed it quickly before preparing your new drink, stealing glances in your direction, making you smile instinctively.

That's how you met Nam-gyu. The worst part is that he was sober only 10% of the time. So that night at the club? He was high as hell but head over heels for you.

At first he didn't want to tell you. He kept it a secret. He didn't want to risk screwing up something that was building slowly and beautifully just because he was addicted to syringes and substances.

He was ashamed of himself, but he couldn't deny how good they made him feel.

You slowly noticed the patterns, however. Dilated eyes, jaw going places, shaky hands...

It made sense why Nam-gyu avoided you during his work nights and pulled himself forcefully to be sober for at least a few hours the next few days, just to spend time with you without scaring you, or without any judgment from you.

But the drugs... they never leave completely. Even after a few days of staying sober, the body would visibly react due to addiction and withdrawal.

That, and the fact that you took a glimpse of Nam-gyu's arm. Scars were extremely visible, piercing at his veins, and bluish-purple bruises were forming around the swollen injuries.

You gulped, not knowing how to approach this. You didn't even know if you wanted to approach this subject in the first place, but something as serious as this needed to be discussed one way or another.

Until one day.

"Nam-gyu. Why do you have IV scars?"

That question made him freeze in his track as his coffee mug was slowly slipping from his hands.

Of course...

Of course you'd see that. Of course you'd notice the drugs even when he wasn't drugged.

Of course everything screamed 'junkie' over his body even if he didn't touch any substances for that day.

Of course he was too foolish to not cover that before coming over.

He mumbled words in embarrassment, shame taking over him.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry I—I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid and..."

You looked at him with a gap between your lips and a few tears forming in your eyes.

"Shit! I can't even explain it properly because you wouldn't understand. But I like you—I like you so much I didn't want to ruin... this."

He shakes his hand between you and him.

"I was so afraid to tell you because you're so good to me and..."

The conversation was long. Explanations were pitiful.

It made sense.

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him, or even dislike him for that matter. He was suffering, and you've seen right through it, like he wished someone could do for him.

So you stuck around. You tried to help him in your own way. At first he didn't want help. Said he didn't need help. But you knew that was far from true.

He managed to change his habits, slowly, but efficiently. His body was already damaged, scarred, and far beyond a full recovery, but it was never too late to stop using the substances.

He promised he'll change.

For you, he did. For you, he tried.

That's how he became 2 years clean. The smell of weed was now making him gag, and the sight of syringes made him flinch.

Not because he was scared of them, but because he didn't want to accidentally break the promise he made to you.

Syringes were now in his past, and he was proud of that.

He would often gaze at his arms slightly, getting a harsh reminder that he was once just a junkie.

Before he met you.

He was so grateful for your existence and how much you did for him.

He loved you.

You started dating after he felt like he was stable enough to properly offer you days with no withdrawals or nights with cuddles instead of fights or desperate wall grips for another pill.

And you guys live together now!! And he was the cutest, most careful boyfriend.

He still worked at the club, but he knew better than to lace himself with drugs ever again. He wouldn't do that; he had self-control now. He had the love he needed now.

One random night you'd cuddle with him as his arms hovered over your body lazily.

You flicked your eyes open, knowing Nam-gyu was as awake as you.

You traced the tattoos on his arm using your finger, tickling him slightly.

He didn't flinch, however.

You reached his scars, and suddenly you stopped before softly pressing your finger over them.

"They're healed..."

You whispered, trying not to disturb the silence.

Nam-gyu turned to face you before looking at his own arm as you continued to trace the scars.

"Yeah..." he replied.

You smiled softly to yourself as you felt a wave of pride washing over you.

You were so proud of your boyfriend. Only you knew how much soul and struggle you had to put up there so he could stop with his unhealthy coping mechanisms.

He fell silent as his head nuzzled in your hair.

"Thank you..." he whispered.

You were confused for a moment before you felt the arm over you shift, capturing you in a sweet, warm hug.

"You saved me from myself..."

[corpseontheloose]

Small steps

Summary: in which Hyun-ju helps you go through your eating disorder

A/N: This is in no way, shape, or form romanticizing. I've been struggling with an eating disorder for a few years now and lately it's gotten WAY worse. For the reference, my period stopped showing up. And Hyun-ju's been my comfort for quite a while now so this is my way of coping and my way of comforting myself because, to be completely honest, I don't seek help in fear of gaining back the weight I lost. So I just handle it my own way. It's probably deadly, but I can't do anything about it. I'm also struggling with bulimia or bulimic symptoms, but I'd rather not add it to the story. And I'm sorry if you're struggling with this as well. It might be a pretty personal one shot

Warnings: eating disorder, reader being underweight, medical conditions caused by it, body dysmorphia

This wasn't the plan you carefully put together a while ago.

You think you missed a few steps, because your body suddenly aching and shaking wasn't on your to-do list.

Or the way you've gotten so lightheaded you looked for things to lean onto so you wouldn't fall on the floor

You've gradually lost quite a few kilos. Probably more than you planned, but that didn't bother you. Fewer kilos meant a skinnier body, and that was everything you wanted to accomplish.

That was to a point your body weighed less than what's prescribed to weigh.

You were underweight. Very.

Hyun-ju was a supportive partner; she always has been. She was there when you told her you wanted to start a new diet to shape your body, to be thinner.

She assured you that whatever form you'd take, she'll love you either way, but that didn't stop her from supporting you in your choice.

If anything, she'd hate to see how you hate yourself in a body you dislike so, maybe that was a good self-esteem boost for you.

And it was, you looked good after a few months with your self-made diet and the sugar cut-outs.

You counted the calories carefully, and the self-control was high-key winning, so, no, you didn't want fast food or anything too oily.

Until you started cutting out almost everything that was not veggies or fruits.

You were restricting yourself from almost every food in there.

That's when it became a bit suspicious for Hyun-ju.

You were already pretty skinny considering your scale dropped backwards with the numbers.

People started noticing. They complimented you on your efforts and discipline. It wasn't easy to work on your body like you did.

It made you feel proud of yourself. But also obsessed with what you ate to maintain that thin form.

Chia seed water was your go-to choice for breakfast. Lunch was optional, and maybe you'd have dinner if you felt like it.

It felt refreshing. The kicks didn't hurt yet.

But the dysmorphia did.

And suddenly you looked like a whale in the mirror. Suddenly everything seemed bigger. Your torso, your arms, your legs. Even if the scale was indicating the same weight, or even less.

Hyun-ju didn't know how to approach this. You looked happy in your new body, but you also looked like a total corpse skeleton.

"Love, you should eat something before bed. I made double ramen with extra cheese"

You looked at her before asking in a soft tone, "You know how many calories that has, right? I'm not going to fill up like a balloon; I'd rather eat some strawberries."

Hyun-ju just nodded slightly, understanding that you and she have different habits of eating now.

Until she noticed how restrictful you were with almost everything

How your body would shake softly from the lack of food in your system.

Your eyes are now colored with purple shades around them, under your lashes. Very dark circles are making a new home on your face.

You knew it wasn't healthy; you became aware a while ago, but you just couldn't feel skinny yet. The mirror kept showing you images of a past body that no longer existed physically. Just inside your head, altering your reflection.

Hyun-ju wanted to talk to you about this. You were practically decomposing yourself in front of her, and it destroyed her.

She couldn't imagine a life without you; you were her lifeline, and seeing you hurting the way you are, she decided it was no longer up for debate.

"Y/N, you need to start eating more. Look at you, you're basically the easiest target for the wind."

You weren't listening. You knew you should; you knew she was right. You knew how you felt physically ill whenever a random wave of dizziness hit you.

"Please, Y/N, look at you..."

"I look at myself and I'm still not skinny enough!"

It broke her. How you just couldn't see yourself the way she did, how your mind was pulling threads and controlled you so easily that it made you believe you still look like your past self

"You're more than skinny, Y/N, trust me. The scale isn't lying!"

"It's not enough..."

You started throwing up. Your body was fighting back, telling you to stop, but your mind wasn't giving in. You just went to the bathroom, got out liquids, then brushed it off like it was nothing.

You were eating, just not something consistent or something to be considered a rightful meal.

It got to a point you would check the scale like 5 or 6 times per day just to make sure you didn't gain anything. And subconsciously saying "go lower, go lower" to it

Hyun-ju left you alone as it felt pointless to talk to you. Yet, in the back of her mind, she wanted to help you, make you feel better.

So whenever you ran to the bathroom, she was quick to come with you and pat you on the back as you threw the liquids out. She then gently took you to the sink to brush your teeth and stood there until you finished.

She stopped you mid-walk to your room, holding your hand softly.

"Do you want soup? Just a bit. It's basically just water, you know? And spices. And chicken. It doesn't have that many calories"

You looked at her and for the first time you admitted it took a bad turn.

You just hugged her and nodded.

"Yes. Just a bit..."

She smiled in your hair before kissing your forehead quickly.

She prepared the soup for you while watching you, almost lifeless, on one of the chairs in the kitchen.

She came to you and wrapped her hands over your shoulders, burying her head in your neck.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N. Please don't destroy yourself for this. There are other ways of being skinny, healthy for that matter. I can't lose you to this..."

"I'm sorry...I can't stop"

It took you almost a few other months before you were brave enough to ask for help. Real help.

She was so proud of you; she basically helped you throughout everything the doctors prescribed, and whenever you felt like refusing, she was there to comfort you and tell you it's okay.

She praised you a lot, especially when you cried after forcing yourself to eat.

"Small steps, love. It's gonna be okay"

I don't know if you gained back a few pounds considering you already knew about calories and tried to maintain that but still eat healthy. So I'd say probably just a tiny, tiny bit, which sent you in a spiral. It wasn't even a kilo, but it still messed with you.

But Hyun-ju was there for you. And you reminded yourself it was okay; it was for the better.

[corpseontheloose]

Squid Game self made theme playlists

(more coming soon!!)

Nam-gyu:

Thanos:

Coming soon

Dae-ho:

Coming soon

Hyun-ju:

Coming soon

Se-mi:

Coming soon

Min-su:

Coming soon

[corpseontheloose]

Guys guys he looks exactly like Han from Tokyo Drift I'm scared

What if I make a fast and furious AU with him HUH