startaegi

[startaegi]

ONLY FOR THE SUMMER. kim namjoon.

in which two authors meet in search of inspiration, forming a romance that lasts only for the summer.

kim namjoon x fem reader. summer romance, strangers to lovers, forced proximity, happy ending, alternate universe, social media posts. reader is an author in her 20s (no specific age mentioned). warnings for potential smut.

wattpad masterlist letterbox

ACT 1 . when we met. ❪ coming soon ❫ .

ACT 2 . the summer of ���22. ❪ coming soon ❫ .

ACT 3 . after we left. ❪ coming soon ❫ .

[startaegi]

CHAPTER THREE . . . nobody else

in which the lonely hybe barista catches the eye of popular idol jung hoseok, in turn changing her life forever.

previous next masterlist wattpad

the atmosphere in the classroom shifted. you sat back in the uncomfortable lecture hall chair, fingers nervously fiddling with the pencil in your hand. the day started like any other, the first half spent in the studios, and now the second half in the lecture hall. your usually over-enthusiastic teacher had been smiling until now.

professor yoon cleared her throat, and the room fell silent. "i have some very important news to share with you today—" she paused mid-sentence, eyes lingering near the front of the room where a few students stayed glued to their screens. "i would appreciate if everyone could put their phones away and listen."

your ears perked up.

"starting next week, we will begin preparing for your end-of-year project, and if successful, three of you will have the chance to have your art displayed in the yunsul gallery exhibit."

your classmates exchanged shocked glances and hushed whispers. yunsul gallery was a prestigious space in the heart of seoul, housing some of south korea's most famous artworks—paintings, marble statues, sculptures. tickets sold out within minutes, and in the art world, you were considered lucky just to walk through the doors.

"if selected," professor yoon went on, "your work will be part of their spring newcomers collection."

your heart stammered in your chest. this could potentially be the biggest moment of your career, a real chance at being recognised. you felt giddy with excitement, your mind racing with ideas.

and just as quickly as the excitement came, it disappeared.

"guess some of us will have to start taking this class seriously," said iseul with a smirk pointed in your direction. "no more running off halfway through a lesson."

you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment but refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, so you said nothing, instead moving to gather your belongings. it was typical of iseul to ruin any sense of excitement you had been feeling. since the day professor yoon recognized your work in the early months of your first year, iseul made it her mission to undermine you at every opportunity.

you didn't waste any time leaving the building. on any other day, you might've stayed behind, maybe found an empty studio to paint something or other. today, however, you left as soon as you could.

you took your time walking. the distance from your uni to hybe was short, just long enough to give in to your racing thoughts.

yunsul gallery. you, of course, knew about the opportunities they gave to new artists, could never dream of being within reach of one. you should be excited. but the voices in your head nipped away. iseul. your mother. your father. old high school classmates. even your old neighbours. each one had planted a seed of doubt in your mind. each one telling you you’d never make it.

the smell of coffee hit you as you stepped through the double glass doors. your shift started at 1pm, it now being five past, which meant they were likely to be busier than usual—caught in the rush of lunchtime. you quickly wove through the crowds of people, bag clutched to your chest, and soon tied your apron, clocking in for your shift.

"hi," sunjae said from beside the cake stand. "you're late."

"sorry," you apologised, already moving to the sink. "class was held up."

he shrugged with a smile, making his way back to the register.

sunjae was a nice boy, a few years older than you. he basically ran the cafeteria like he owned it, and somehow, no one minded. he was sweet in the sense that he understood you had your troubles, but never asked questions. If you were late, like you usually were, he acted as if your shift was always supposed to start at that hour or minute. you would forever be grateful for the kindness he showed you.

the line of customers didn't seem to end. you moved without thinking—coffee after coffee, cleaning dishes in between, politely smiling as you delivered pastries to tables. you were grateful for the busyness the afternoon brought, your mind clear of all bad thoughts for once.

as you rung up the last customer, eyes still focused on the screen in front of you, a familiar voice spoke, "iced americano, please."

you lifted your head, eyes soon meeting his. you smiled, "anything else?"

hoseok turned to his right, where a boy you didn't recognise stood. you stared at him in disbelief. he was one of the prettiest people you had ever seen. soft face, plump lips, and dyed dirty blonde hair. he was definitely an idol, you thought to yourself.

"oat milk latte and a muffin," the boy smiled.

you didn't have time to continue a conversation, the next customer stepping up to order. minutes later sunjae approached, his voice frantic.

"can you take this to table 10?" he asked, stressfully running a hand through his hair. "sohee was supposed to be back from her break at 2."

you nodded, quickly ringing up the customer and reaching for the tray. table 10 was at the far back of the room, close enough to the giant windows overlooking the cafeteria but far enough from the hustle of the register. you carefully balanced the two coffees and muffin on the tray, moving slowly as you walked toward the table.

hoseok noticed you approach, a smile spreading across his face. he stood up to help with the tray, but you were quick to push him away. reluctantly, he sat back down.

“it's tuesday," hoseok said as if it were obvious, then continued, "uni today?"

"yeah," you nodded, placing their drinks and cake on the table, then tucking the empty tray under your arm. "ran a little late."

the blonde boy raised an eyebrow, suspiciously eyeing you both. "do you know each other?"

before you could speak, hoseok replied, "sort of. we're getting there." he laughed.

you smiled softly, unsure how to reply. "if you need anything else, you know where to find me," you said, glancing back at the register. hoseok smiled in return, nodding while the pretty boy sipped his coffee through a smirk.

you returned to your spot, cheeks warm and heart racing. there was something about hoseok you couldn't shake.

previous next masterlist wattpad

❪ notes ❫ . another bts member introduced 🤭

❪ taglist ❫ . @granataepfelchen @readeryaknow @mizz-kraziii if you wanna be added to the taglist for all future chapters let me know

[startaegi]

haymitch abernathy | no peace

words: 1.7k warnings: 18+, hurt/comfort, public punishment (inspired by gale's whipping in catching fire), mentions of alcohol and drugs, pain, pain, pain, blood, injury, just a lot of whump description: Disobeying the Peacekeepers comes with punishment. Haymitch is the one to protect you, sitting at your bedside and helping you through the agony.

You kneel because it’s all you can do, just as all the residents of the Seam can do is watch it happen. Beside you, the little girl who you’d leapt in front of just a moment ago sniffles and cries for her mother. You think you know her as the daughter of one of the coal miners, but you don’t see either of her parents anywhere now. Likely, they’re at home, waiting for her to bring that stolen wedge of cheese before they starve. Now, it lies on the floor at the Peacekeeper’s feet, dirtied by the sooty ground and laid to waste. 

“She’s just a girl,” you say again — plead. You’re met with a blow across your face, one that knocks you to the ground. Though it steals your breath, you only grunt, determined not to show weakness. It’s what they thrive on, but you are not weak. Not for this. 

The crowd gasps in shock, but nobody steps in. Nobody can, not without twice as terrible a punishment. 

When you rise onto your elbows, the Peacekeeper grabs your chin, teeth bared. “Well, I sure hope she was worth the twelve lashes you’re about to get. Let’s see how heroic you feel with your back in tatters, shall we?” 

He drags you over to the whipping post, your knees scraping against the cobbles, heart pounding in your ears. The girl is crying, but you glimpse a neighbour pulling her away. Good. His focus is on you, and that means she’ll get to go home today — without food, but safe. Perhaps one of the onlookers will take pity, find something to fill her belly. God knows she looks like she needs it, joints jutting out of grimy, freckled skin. You know that hunger; the type that aches in every bone, burns right through your insides. Her tiny frame wouldn’t survive the lashes, but you will, so you let the Peacekeeper rip off your shirt and bare your back to him when he asks, another of them approaching to tie you up with rope that immediately chafes your wrists. 

“Please,” the little girl is shouting, but she’s far away. 

You grit your teeth when you hear the whip crack against the floor. Focus on the rows of feet surrounding you, as though counting the holes in the miners’ boots might be enough of a distraction and you won't feel it. 

Except it isn't and you do. The whip tears over your spine and you can’t keep from letting out a scream this time, entire body shuddering as though it can’t quite settle into this new pain. The Peacekeeper counts with every lash: one, two, three. By the fifth, you can’t hold yourself up, slumped against the pole as hot blood trickles down your skin and gathers at the waistband of your trousers. The shoes blur and tilt with the rest of the world, and you wonder how you’ll work tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day. You hope the girl isn’t looking. You wish nobody was looking. 

Before the seventh, a new voice chimes in, footsteps scuffing against the stone behind you. You don’t need to see him: his voice is enough for you to recognise who is trying to rescue you. 

Haymitch. 

“All right, all right, don’t you think you’ve proved your point?” he’s saying with that usual hint of a slur, because you can’t remember the last time he wasn’t drunk. It’s the only reason you’re friends. He buys your liquor, enough that you started watering it down a while back both because you don’t want to enable his addiction and because it gives him reason to come back more often, even if it’s to yell at you about the quality of your booze. 

“The sentence for attacking a Peacekeeper is twelve lashes. Step aside, or join her,” the Peacekeeper warns. 

Attacking a Peacekeeper. You barely touched him, only pushing him back before he could hit the girl. 

“Leave it, Haymitch,” you manage to force out. You taste blood and realise you’ve bitten through your tongue, but it’s impossible to feel it with your back on fire. “Let the man finish. No Peacekeepers, no peace, right?”

Your sarcasm is rewarded with another whip, right across both shoulder blades. 

Seven.

“Stop it!” Haymitch orders. There’s something rich and husky in his voice. Desperation. There you were thinking he didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. You'd be surprise if you could muster the energy. “You wanna punish someone, punish me. How about we see what happens when one of the Hunger Games victors gets all bloodied up in the street, huh?”

Silence. Likely, the Peacekeeper realising who he is. District 12's only victor. You squeeze your eyes closed, dreading that Haymitch might actually take the lashings for you. The only thing you could bear less than this.

“Victors aren’t exempt from the rules,” the Peacekeeper decides, but his voice is no longer as stiff and certain as before. “And Seam scum like her certainly aren’t.”

“Maybe not, but what would everyone think, seeing Panem’s hero at the hands of a Peacekeeper? You sure that’s an image Snow would want associated with his precious Games?”

A scoff. “I don’t care about Panem’s heroes. You have nothing to do with this, so step aside.”

“She’s my wife!” Haymitch claims, causing another wave of shock to rattle through the crowd. And through you, because like hell you are. But he’s lying to save you, and you don’t know why. “I won’t let you do this to her. So whip me, or let us both go. What’ll it be?”

The moments that follow are excruciating, and you can do nothing but pant as the cool air hits your ruined skin. Finally, a Peacekeeper comes before you to cut through your bindings. You’re about to fall back onto the stone when two arms wrap around you, your soft whimpers landing in their chest. 

“All right, sweetheart. I gotcha now.” He picks you up, then whispers an outpouring of sorries when his arms scrape against your wounds, drawing another agonised keen from you. The sky is cloudy and grey above you, and it’s all you can do to stare at the clouds as he walks with you, each step jolting another rush of pain through your body. 

“Gonna getcha all cleaned up,” Haymitch soothes. And then he’s shouting for someone, for Asterid, and the sky is replaced by the wooden beams of an old house. 

Immediately, orders are shouted: clear the table, get the morphling, lots of gauze. You’re set down on something hard and clutch at Haymitch’s shirt desperately. His face swims over you, blue eyes glassy yet alert. More alert than they’ve ever been before. 

“Can you roll off your back for me, sweetheart? That’s it.” His hands are at your sides, anchoring you as you try to take the weight off your injuries. Everything is slippery with your blood and you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t anything, because it hurts. You must say as much, because his hand smoothes over your hair. “I know. I know. Gonna get you something for it, okay?”

“It’s going to be worse, just for a moment. We need to clean your wounds,” a kind voice, Asterid, warns, and then it is. You imagine fire all around you, and somewhere distant, hear your own screams. Haymitch’s hand stays in yours as he holds your convulsing body down.

“Can’t you get the damn morphling first?” Annoyance bubbles in Haymitch’s tone. 

“I can’t find it!” a younger, more flustered voice says, the sounds of riffling breaking through the cotton wool in your ears. Must be Asterid's daughter, Prim. She's barely younger than the girl outside; she shouldn't have to see the mess the whip has made.

And then you must pass out, because suddenly, you’re rising from fog, body heavy and pain dulled, and Haymitch is in a chair by your side. Your blood is on his shirt, you notice, and his hand is still holding yours on the table, thumb smoothing over your knuckles in a way that is both gentle and rough. 

“Hey. There y’are. Welcome back.” 

Moving makes you hurt again, and he shushes you when you cry out. “Stay put for now, okay? Wounds are still open.”

“Where are we?” Your voice is almost as hoarse and slurred as his. 

“Asterid’s house. She’s getting you all cleaned up.” 

“Did… did they stop? Did the girl get away?” 

He brushes the hair off your forehead. “She did. Made sure she got some food in her belly, too. Jesus, what were you thinking, getting in between a fight with a Peacekeeper like that?”

“Wasn’t a fair fight.” 

“Never damn well is.” 

“She was just a girl, Haymitch.” Anger rises to the surface, breaking through layers and layers of pain and sedation. 

Haymitch sighs. Leans his elbows on the table so his face is inches from yours. You wonder why it brings you comfort to smell his alcohol-laced breath, to feel it across your skin, to have his crooked nose graze yours. So gentle compared to the whip and yet it still leaves you shuddering. 

And yet his words are serrated as ever. “I know. But if you could find some sense of self-preservation, that’d be great.”

You shake your head, lids growing heavy again. You’re still conscious enough to point out, “You didn’t seem to have much of any, either, jumping in front of me like that. Calling me your wife. How long ‘fore they realise that’s a lie?”

His brows knit together, fingers drawing absent circles into your arms. “Shut up and get some sleep.”

Somehow, you find it in you to smirk. “‘Cos I’m right?”

“‘Cos the morphling’ll wear off soon, and it’s gonna hurt like hell.” Then, he softens. "And because you're a little right."

And you dread it, that first part. You can already feel the flames charring the edges of your consciousness, trying to take over again. Chin dipping back onto the table, you squeeze Haymitch’s hand tighter. He’s all you have here. No family to come sit with you, no friends who’ll take care of you the way he has. He's stupid for it, for putting himself in the crossfire, but it means something. Right now, you don’t know what, but you’ll figure it out. Maybe. If he’ll let you. 

“You gonna leave?” You sound so small, and it leaves you regretting asking at all. This isn't you. You get by on banter and jabs, not... this. Not vulnerability. The scars might heal, but you won't be able to take back the things you've given to him today. Shreds of yourself you didn't know existed.

He shakes his hand; strokes your hair again. “Gonna be right here when you wake up, sweetheart. Not going anywhere.” 

With the morphling humming through your veins and his gentle, soothing touch taking your mind away from the pain, you drift back into a restless, uncomfortable in-between. 

One where he is here, and for that alone, the agony is almost worth it.

[startaegi]

CHAPTER TWO . . . nobody else

in which the lonely hybe barista catches the eye of popular idol jung hoseok, in turn changing her life forever.

previous next masterlist wattpad

a few weeks passed since the boy with the smiling eyes noticed you.

it had been a small moment, one that most people would probably find insignificant. just a friendly customer on a particularly hard day. but your quiet life made moments like that stand out.

most of the people you served ordered their drinks. some smiled politely, but for the most part, they rushed through, on phone calls or caught up with staff.

you, of course, didn't mind. you understood they lived busy lives.

but hoseok never avoided your gaze. he always smiled. he always bowed. and he never brushed past you like you were just another barista behind the counter.

the day, again, was like any other. long, tiresome, and cold.

you finished university, rushed through the streets of seoul, and made it just on time for your afternoon shift. the customers were particularly loud, some occasion or event happening somewhere in the building, so you were glad to finally be nearing closing.

your coworkers had already left for home, you had offered to stay behind and finish any work. it was quiet, the peaceful kind after a hectic day, the only sounds coming from the hum of the coffee machines and clinks of dishes as you stacked them away.

you were cleaning behind the counter, boxing leftover cookies, when the cafeteria door suddenly swung open. you looked up, startled. hoseok rushed toward the counter, a little breathless, his cheeks flushed.

he pushed his beanie tighter, trying to catch his breath. "am i too late?" he asked.

you blinked, still holding the empty box.

"depends," you said slowly. "what are you after?"

"i saw some donuts earlier. i’ve been craving them all day," he groaned, eyes dreamy, until he paused, focus shifting to the empty cake display. "please don't tell me they're all gone."

a small smile made its way onto your face before you glanced back at the already boxed goods.

"there's two left."

his face face lit up, a wide smile taking over his cheeks. he quickly pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

"no coffee today?" you questioned, placing the boxes on the counter.

"i came in this morning," he said. “i noticed you weren't here."

you felt your breath catch in your throat. were you silly enough to believe he'd been looking for you? or were you just someone he was used to seeing now?

"tuesdays are for university," you explained, groaning a little at the thought of the morning's lecture.

hoseok laughed. "you don't enjoy it?"

you gave him a small sarcastic smile. "would you enjoy a lecture taught by someone who thinks they know more about art than anyone else?"

eyebrows raised, his posture now more relaxed, he asked, "you're an artist then?"

you nodded. "i suppose. can i say that before i've graduated?"

hoseok smiled, amused, “if you can draw anything better than i can then i believe so"

"what about you then?" you asked curiously.

hoseok shrugged, still smiling, "a stick man at best"

you laughed softly, shaking your head in disbelief. "at least you're honest"

before he could speak again, the door opened with an abrupt bang. another boy, about hoseok's age, you assumed, hurried through the tables.

"hyung!" he called, his footsteps echoing off the walls. "i’ve been looking for you for hours." he panted dramatically. "we need you in the practice room."

you noticed his tattooed hand as he grasped hoseok's shoulder, pulling him away from the counter.

hoseok looked back at you, lips parted like he wanted to say more, but in the end, just smiled apologetically.

“thank you for the donuts," he said, bowing slightly. "see you soon."

you watched as they disappeared out of the room, the door closing shut behind them. you got back to work, the cafeteria now felt too big and empty, the remains of your conversation still hanging in the air.

he must be a dancer you thought to yourself. it made sense thinking about it now, he looked exactly the type who would be. the way he laughed and showed his feelings so openly. you could imagine how much emotion he put into his dancing.

and the other boy who called him hyung, they must be close enough to have that relationship. was he also a dancer on his team? or maybe an idol you’d heard of but never seen?

for once, in all the time you’d been working in hybe, you were curious about the people you served.

previous next masterlist wattpad

❪ notes ❫ . since im keeping these first chapters short i should be able to update every few days, as they go on they’ll get longer!!

❪ taglist ❫ . @granataepfelchen @readeryaknow @mizz-kraziii if you wanna be added to the taglist for all future chapters let me know

[startaegi]

moooreeeee favorite crime chapters PLEASEEEEE

im sorry im struggling so bad with where i want the story to go :( im hoping s3 will give me more inspo

[startaegi]

FALLING FOR YOU, Jang Deok-su.

In which you and Deok-su bond from the beginning and cannot be torn apart. Your connection, rooted in shared struggles and unwavering trust, becomes a lifeline as you find solace in each other. As you try to survive through these treacherous games filled with unpredictable twists and turns, the stakes rise dramatically and ultimately decide the fate for the both of you in the end.

𐙚⋆°🦢.⋆ᥫ᭡ Deok-su x fem!reader. Includes NSFW and mature themes. This isn’t a slow-burn, but it will have a few chapters. This is my first time writing, so it might not be perfect. If you’ve decided to read this, I hope you enjoy.

PROLOGUE: The Beginning of the End.

The moon hovered high above Seoul’s silent streets, casting a soft, silvery glow that rippled across the rain-slick pavement. You stood by the hospital’s cold glass window, your eyes fixated on the distant shimmer of the streetlights that stretched across the concrete, your thoughts lost somewhere far beyond the cityscape.

After lingering for a moment in the quiet stillness, you finally turned away from the view and walked slowly back toward the hospital bed, where your father lay beneath a web of tubes and wires—his fragile frame sunken into the sterile whiteness of the mattress, his breathing shallow but steady, in time with the rhythmic beeping of the machines around him.

Gently, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his hand, your touch feather-light, almost afraid to disturb the calmness of the room. In that moment, you allowed yourself to breathe. For the first time all day, you found the comfort you needed, even as the weight of your reality still pressed down on your shoulders.

Despite the relentless chaos that defined your daily life, long work hours, piling debt, the emotional strain of your crumbling relationship—you never missed a single visit. You never allowed yourself to skip a day. Your father— Your Appa, was your whole world. He had raised you single handedly with nothing but love and determination.

Your mother had been gone for as long as you could remember. Her absence was a wound that had never quite closed, a quiet ache that would flare unexpectedly when times were hard. When exhaustion blurred the edges of everything, you found yourself longing for the comfort you could no longer reach.

You were deeply grateful for every sacrifice your father had made. Now it was your turn—to do whatever it took to make sure he was cared for, kept comfortable, and never left to face this difficult time alone.

"I’m sorry. Visiting hours are now over."

You glanced up from the bedside and caught the warm smile of the nurse standing at the door. You gave her a grateful nod as she quietly stepped back into the hallway. Gathering your things, you readied yourself to leave—but not before you leaned down to press a soft kiss against your father’s forehead, your voice barely a whisper as you murmured your nightly parting promise.

"I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can, Appa…"

As you stepped through the hospital’s sliding doors and into the still night, you found your way to a nearby bench and sank into it—the cool metal biting through the fabric of your coat. For a moment, you simply sat there, your thoughts spiralling as you gathered the strength to face the long walk home and the harsh reality waiting for you there.

Though the walk back to your apartment was meant to be a quiet one—a chance to clear your mind and let the evening air numb the fatigue etched inside—you could focus on nothing but the relentless beat that pulsed in your chest with every step.

Your thoughts were crowded with overdue bills, unanswered calls from creditors, and the gnawing truth that no matter how hard you worked, it still wouldn’t be enough to cover your father’s treatment, or even the basic necessities of your own.

Your boyfriend, once a source of happiness, had long since become a source of your distress. His reckless spending and unbearable attitude toward your responsibilities had driven a wedge between you—one that only widened with each argument. And each night, it would begin all over again, he’d disappear into the city without so much as a word.

When you finally arrived back and opened the door, the familiar click of the lock echoed through the empty apartment, and the silence inside greeted you like a sigh of relief. You were quick to shrug off your coat and sink into the couch with a weary gratitude, relishing the peace, even though you knew it wouldn’t last.

Minutes later, the silence was broken. The door slammed open, and you turned to see your boyfriend stumble inside—his frame slouched, eyes glassy, and the smell of alcohol completely clinging to him.

He dropped his keys onto the floor with a clatter and kicked the door shut behind him. "What, you’re just sitting there? he slurred, voice thick with drink. "Don’t you ever do anything but mope around these days?"

You stared up at him, tired and drained. "I just came back from the hospital."

He rolled his eyes and tossed his jacket over the back of a nearby chair. "Right. of course. The hospital. Same as every night."

"I told you," you said quietly, "Appa’s condition is getting worse. I need to be there. You haven’t been here. You go out every night, and you come back drunk. You haven’t asked me about my father in weeks."

He scoffed and leaned back, his head tipping against the wall. "What do you want me to do?"

"I thought maybe you’d be there for me when I needed you, that you’d help me out a little. But you stopped trying a long time ago," you whispered. "And I’ve been pretending it doesn’t bother me. But it does."

There had been a time—what now felt like a lifetime ago, when you wouldn’t have cared about the long nights out. You’d even join him, laughing throughout the streets, warmed up by the happiness of life. But now, with the stress of everything you were carrying, you really needed him. You needed his support more than ever.

Yet, it was painfully clear that he had given up. The man you once loved had slowly faded. You knew, without a doubt, that this time there was no fixing what you had lost—no salvaging what was already broken. You had to move on, for your own sake.

So you did what you had been putting off for far too long. You turned away from the wreckage and finally left him, choosing to walk away from one of your burdens. There was no going back.

What had once been a happy and stable relationship had crumbled into emptiness, leaving behind shattered dreams and a growing mountain of debt. And now, the silence pressed against you, and you found yourself wondering what came next.

How could you possibly move forward from this?

[startaegi]

CHAPTER ONE . . . nobody else

in which the lonely hybe barista catches the eye of popular idol jung hoseok, in turn changing her life forever.

previous next masterlist wattpad

the sound of your alarm blared loudly in the silent room. as if your body already knew what was coming, you had been awake for minutes before the first ring. you stayed nestled in the comfort of your bed a minute longer, wishing the day away, until another ring cut through the air.

you sat up slowly, limbs heavy and body weighed down with exhaustion. the chilly morning air nipped at your skin, the cold floorboards biting at your feet. your heater had long since broken, another problem to add to your never-ending list. you had no energy to worry about it, nor the money.

you moved in rhythm, the same daily routine: a quick shower, concealer thick enough to hide your dark circles, and a million layers to protect you from the cold. there was no time for breakfast, there likely never was. you’d eat when you had time.

your bag didn't hold many belongings. just your phone, a water bottle, entrance card, and most importantly, your sketchbook. you never left without it. wherever you went, your drawings followed. not because of school, or because it helped fill a space in your bag. but because it was the only thing you truly loved, the only constant in your life.

the bus was crowded, as it usually was on a weekday morning, but thankfully the journey was over before it even began. your walk to hybe was short. you smiled politely at passersby, gloved hands tucked deep into your coat pockets. the days blended together, and in a sense, you liked it that way. there was something about the routine that brought you comfort. no surprises. no one expecting too much from you. no one to eventually become disappointed in you. no one to eventually leave. if nothing changed, you couldn’t be hurt.

the café was warm when you entered. as always, no matter how late or early, it was packed. managers, trainees, stylists, idols. anyone who frequented the building was there.

you passed a younger group of girls, all looking just as tired as you felt. you offered them a polite smile, to which they returned. you could tell they were a girl group, all five of them had the look.

“cute scarf,” one of them called out.

your hands found the knit around your neck, a warm smile on your face.

“thank you,” you replied, bowing slightly before making your way to the staff room.

by the time you peeled off your layers, and tied your apron, the cafeteria had somehow grown busier. a long line of people stood behind the counter as your coworkers busily tended to them. you quickly slipped behind the register, a friendly smile on your face. you began taking orders, hands moving quickly, the smell of coffee strong in the air.

you didn’t recognise faces in the same way your other coworkers did. you would hear the whispers between them as the pretty looking boy left the room or the young, bright eyed girl stepped up to place her order.

you, of course, knew hybe housed some of the biggest names in kpop. you lived in seoul, it would be hard not to know them. however, you didn’t know faces or names.

it wasn’t that you didn’t care or was never interested—you just simply didn’t have time.

you listened to music and left it at that.

“iced americano, please,” a deep voice said amongst the chatter.

you didn’t look up, your body on autopilot as you filled the plastic cup with ice.

“name?” you asked.

there was a brief pause, only a second, before the voice replied, almost unsure, “hoseok.”

you didn’t think much of it, quickly scribbling his name onto the cup before moving to make his drink. it was one of the easiest on the menu. coffee, milk, and ice.

once finished, you slid the cup across the counter, calling out his name.

a tanned hand reached for it, brushing against yours for a brief second. you looked up, eyes meeting his. he wore a mask, but you could see the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile.

a silent nod passed between you before you moved onto the next customer and the stranger glancing back once, exited the room.

the day got away from you, and before you knew it, you were late for your midnight shift. you hurried through the busy streets of seoul, weaving through crowds of drunk people, the smell of alcohol strong in the air. the sound of music trailed behind you, fading as you approached the rundown convenience store.

it was a small building tucked away in the quieter parts of yongsan. you’d come across the ad online, applied, and landed the job within days. you quickly pushed open the door, the familiar ding of a new customer ringing through the store.

"you’re late again," your manager called from behind a stack of boxes.

the hours at the convenience store were quieter, but you preferred it that way, mainly because you could finish homework while getting paid. customers came few and far between. most of your time was spent stocking shelves, cleaning up after rowdy college students, or simply wishing the hours away so you could go home and sleep.

three hours into your shift, the clock had just hit 2:20am, you sat mindlessly doodling in your sketchbook. your eyes threatened to shut, the charcoal pencil hovering over the page every so often. an empty container of ramen sat to your left, yet your stomach still growled. you flipped to the next blank page in hopes of pulling yourself awake.

you pressed the pencil to the paper and, without realising it, began sketching two smiling eyes. it wasn't until you finished that you finally noticed.

you had been drawing his eyes, the stranger from earlier that day who, somehow, had left an impression on you after just one small interaction. it wasn't like anything big had happened; you had simply exchanged a few words, that was all.

you shook your head in surprise, snapping the book shut and sending the thoughts away.

previous next masterlist wattpad

❪ notes ❫ . very boring start but i’m excited for their interaction’s to begin and introduce the rest of the boys :) thank you for reading 🤍

❪ taglist ❫ . @granataepfelchen @readeryaknow @mizz-kraziii if you wanna be added to the taglist for all future chapters let me know!

[startaegi]

PROLOGUE . . . nobody else.

in which the lonely hybe barista catches the eye of popular idol jung hoseok, in turn changing her life forever.

previous next masterlist wattpad

the bus doors creaked open, the morning sun blinding you as you stepped onto the pavement. you pulled your scarf tighter. winter was finally ending, but the early mornings remained chilly. it was barely 6am, and yet the streets were full. it was true that seoul never slept, even in the quiet parts.

a black suv passed quickly, the tinted windows hiding the identity of whoever sat inside. you didn't look up to notice.

inside, hoseok tiredly rested his head against the window, eyes closed. he’d been in the practice room until late, and by the time he arrived home, he'd only slept an hour or so. if his attention had been on the passing streets, he would have noticed the equally tired girl strolling by.

you, too focused on finding your entrance card, missed the bts billboard stationed to your right. the bright colours gleamed in the rising sun, seven smiling faces peering down at you.

it wasn't the first time you’d missed each other by the fraction of a second, and it wouldn't be the last. fate was funny like that.

previous next masterlist wattpad

❪ notes ❫ . im so excited to finally start writing again. this idea has been stuck in my head for soooo long esp with the releases of sweet dreams, mona lisa and killin it girl 🫠

❪ taglist ❫ . if you wanna be added to the taglist for all future chapters let me know!

[startaegi]

NOBODY ELSE. jung hoseok.

in which the lonely hybe barista catches the eye of popular idol jung hoseok, in turn changing her life forever.

jung hoseok x fem!reader. strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, found family. military service doesn’t exist in this world bcos i don’t feel comfortable writing about it. trigger warnings for toxic family, anxiety, depression, bad eating habits (no eating disorders mentioned). reader is an art student in her 20’s (no specific age mentioned) warnings for potential smut, im not sure if im brave enough to write it yet but adding the warning in case.

wattpad masterlist letterbox

PROLOGUE CHAPTER 001 CHAPTER 002 CHAPTER 003 CHAPTER 004 CHAPTER 005 CHAPTER 005 CHAPTER 006 CHAPTER 007 CHAPTER 008 CHAPTER 009 CHAPTER 010

[startaegi]

pretty when u cry ( song mingi )

▍ a completely stupid argument, and now mingi is crying for your attention.

content : 1.1k words, male reader, boyfriend! mingi, desperate! mingi, angst & fluff (?), mingi whine…, really suggestive at the end lol, mingi calls reader 'baby', requested here!

it was supposed to be a nice, chill night.

you and mingi were curled up on the couch, watching some random show, when the dumbest argument of your entire relationship broke out. it started with you casually mentioning how good pineapple tasted on pizza.

mingi had gone rigid.

“you like pineapple on pizza?” he had asked, turning to you so fast it was like you’d just confessed to murder.

“…yeah?”

silence. then, pure disgust settled over his face.

“you’re serious?”

you frowned. “what’s wrong with that?”

“what’s right with that?” mingi countered. “that’s, like, the worst topping ever. it’s soggy. it’s wrong.”

you scoffed. “it’s sweet and salty. it’s delicious.”

“it’s an abomination.”

“mingi, it’s not that serious—”

“it is that serious,” he pointed at you, eyes narrowing. “i don’t know if i can look at you the same way after this.”

and that? that was where he fucked up.

because now, you were annoyed.

he had been dramatic over stupid things before, but this was next-level. you had half a mind to kick him off the couch, but instead, you decided on something worse.

you ignored him. full-on silent treatment.

and mingi was not handling it well.

for the past twenty minutes, he had been trying everything to get your attention.

he had tried whining. he had tried cuddling into your side. he had even pouted — full lips jutted out, eyes wide and pleading — but you refused to acknowledge him.

at first, he had just been playfully frustrated.

but now? now, he was genuinely suffering.

“baby,” he whined, dramatically draping himself across your lap. “please, just look at me.”

you didn’t move.

he groaned, shoving his face into your stomach. “you’re really mad over this?”

more silence.

mingi sighed and pulled back, staring at you. you were still facing the tv, arms crossed, expression blank.

he swallowed. “you’re really not gonna talk to me?”

nothing.

mingi inhaled sharply. “okay.”

then, to your absolute shock, you heard a small, shaky sniffle. your brows twitched. another sniffle.

you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and—

oh.

oh, shit.

his eyes were glossy, his bottom lip trembling. his lashes fluttered rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were already beginning to spill.

he sniffled again, then rubbed at his face with his sleeve.

“i just… i don’t know what i did wrong,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

you blinked. “mingi…”

his head snapped up, eyes wide, hopeful. “you’re talking to me again?”

you frowned. “are you crying?”

he sniffled. “i am not.”

you stared at him.

he sniffled again, rubbing at his eye with his sleeve.

“i just… i hate when you ignore me.”

your chest tightened.

but then, you noticed something else.

his lips were slightly swollen, from either biting them or pressing them together to hold back sobs. his nose was red-tipped, his expression soft, vulnerable, desperate. his wet lashes glistened under the dim lighting of the room, making his eyes look even bigger.

he looked stupidly pretty.

mingi sniffled, staring at you, waiting.

you exhaled, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek with your thumb. he shivered slightly at the touch.

“you really cried over this?” you murmured.

mingi sniffled again, then nuzzled into your palm, blinking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

“i don’t like when you ignore me,” he admitted quietly.

his voice was soft, raspy, broken.

something in you snapped.

before you could think twice, you grabbed his chin and tilted his face up further. his breath caught as you ran your thumb over his lip, feeling the warmth, the slight dampness from his tears.

mingi’s lashes fluttered. “baby…”

your grip tightened.

“you look really pretty when you cry,” you muttered.

mingi froze.

a visible shudder ran through his body. his breath shuddered, eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

then—

“do you like it?” he whispered.

your fingers flexed against his jaw. “like what?”

mingi swallowed thickly. “when i cry.”

your pulse quickened.

he inhaled, shaking slightly as he leaned in. “because i’ll do it more if it means you’ll touch me like this again.”

fuck.

you clenched your jaw, gripping his face tighter, thumb pressing against his lower lip.

“you’re really pushing it,” you muttered.

mingi exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch. his hands found your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make your skin tingle.

“is that a bad thing?” he murmured.

you didn’t answer. instead, you moved.

in one swift motion, you grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him forward, crashing your lips against his.

mingi moaned.

it was soft, breathy, but fuck, it was there.

his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. his lips were warm, needy, moving feverishly against yours as if he was trying to make up for the time you had spent ignoring him.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly — he whimpered. something dark, hungry, settled in your stomach.

you deepened the kiss, pushing him further back against the couch. mingi let out a small gasp as your tongue slid past his lips, his grip on your hips tightening.

“fuck,” he whispered against your mouth. “you—”

you cut him off by biting his bottom lip.

mingi whined.

you smirked. “what was that?”

his breath shuddered. “you’re—”

another kiss. this one harder.

mingi’s head hit the armrest, his body pliant beneath yours. his chest rose and fell rapidly, his fingers trembling against your skin.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face — his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, his half-lidded, desperate eyes.

he looked wrecked.

and you weren’t even close to done.

“you’re not crying anymore,” you teased, voice low.

mingi swallowed, lips parting slightly. “maybe you should keep ignoring me, then.”

you huffed a quiet laugh. “you’re such a fucking brat.”

he smirked. “but you love it, right?”

you pressed your knee between his thighs.

mingi gasped.

his eyes flew open, cheeks burning. “oh, fuck—”

you leaned down, lips brushing against his ear.

“if you keep acting like this,” you murmured, “i might have to make you cry again.”

mingi shuddered.

“fuck,” he whispered, voice breathy. “please.”

his grip on your waist tightened.

and just like that, your forgotten argument about pineapple on pizza?

didn’t seem so important anymore.

[startaegi]

250615 Hobi Weverse Live → “Thank you so much for loving j-hope's HOPE ON THE STAGE. Thank you guys!"

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 007 . . . favourite crime

previous next masterlist playlist

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of your shared bedroom. The window was cracked open ever so slightly, just enough to cause the curtains to sway in the breeze. The early spring heat had been relentless, your entire home burning like a sauna. Despite the high temperatures you both were an entanglement of limbs. The sheets long forgotten along with your clothes, only adorned in underwear as you both fought against the heat.

You felt Namgyu stir beside you, a soft groan escaping him as he stretched his arms above his head. You shut your eyes tighter, knowing it was far too early to be awake without even glancing at the clock. He shortly curled back against you, his fingers lightly grazing your bare arm.

"I know you're awake," He murmured against your shoulder. "We have to study"

You shook your head in response, burying deeper into the pillow as he began pressing soft kisses against your skin. After your long weekend, one which was filled with endless laughter and too many shots of vodka, you'd promised to study the entirety of Monday to make up for it. You were fully regretting that decision now.

"Study tomorrow" You mumbled into the cotton pillowcase then reaching up to pull Namgyu's arm closer, your fingers intertwined with his and the lightest shine of silver caught your eye.

You furrowed your brows but thought nothing of it, the bliss of an extra five minutes in bed was enough distraction. And then it hit you. You weren't wearing jewellery the night before and you definitely did not own rings that glinted so brightly against the sunlight - and especially not on your left ring finger.

You abruptly sat up, reaching your hand out to inspect the diamond against your skin. It was silver; not too big, not too small, just exactly how you always imagined your future engagement ring to be. You turned to face Namgyu in confusion who was now fully awake, a tired smile on his pretty face.

"Are you happy?" he questioned. You looked from the ring to him, racking your brain as to where it had come from. Namgyu's expression shifted, his smile fading. "You don't remember?"

"I-" You began, suddenly lost for words. You shook your head, "I don't think so"

"Drunk me was too impatient," Namgyu muttered. He sat up against the bed frame, running his hands through his growing hair. "You really don't remember?" His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

You were silent, your mind replaying the events from the night before. You had gone to Club Pentagon, a local nightclub popular with your university's college students due to the celebrities that frequented it. It wasn't your usual outing but you both felt you earned it. You had both received good grades on your papers after weeks of studying all while working night shifts. A drink or two was more than well deserved. However, one drink turned into two and soon you were shots deep into the night.

"You proposed" You whispered, mostly to yourself, eyes fixated on your finger. You could faintly recall a seat in the corner of the club, the music drumming through your body along with the alcohol and Namgyu glued to your side. You vision quickly landed on him, eyes wide as you exclaimed louder, "You proposed in a club while I was blackout drunk?"

Namgyu nervously laughed, unsure whether your offended expression was genuine or not. "In my defence I was also blackout drunk"

You glared back playfully. You weren't mad. It was such a Namgyu thing to do.

"Come here" He said, holding a hand out. "Give me your hand" You reached out to him as he gently slipped the ring from your finger.

You faced each other, eyes heavy with sleep but smiles on your faces. "Y/N, will you marry me?" he asked. You laughed but Namgyu didn't miss the faint blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Eventually you nodded, smiling. "For the second time" you laughed. "Yes"

Namgyu placed the ring back onto your finger then gently pulled you close. Your chin rested against his chest, your eyes locked together. He softly brushed the loose hair from your face, hands resting on your cheeks as he reached down to place a kiss against your lips.

previous next masterlist playlist

notes . . . im so so sorry for not updating in so long and i apologise for the short chapter. ive had no motivation to write at all. im working on the next game rn which i have ALOT of ideas for so hopefully it shouldn't take as long as this one. thank you for reading and waiting <3

taglist . . . @chrisstyle @seonghwasslytherin @princessofthepuppets @sollum @okaycharr @hoshisgalaxy @alexatthedisco @swoofllia @chxrrybomb22 @drkitten226 @ryvampr @bbyjjunie @learninglinesintherainn @smally97 @sft-core @enterplanettelex @prettywhenicry4 @zannispppp @juhdoche @nuttybeans @wagawana @xtracy-xd7 @slxtgirl69 @ihrthoney @zella-74 @ancientdarko @loverzxi @boomzen @godly-sinsx @sirenkinnie @skibidirizzzlerrrr @come-as-you-are-111 @mochimitsuri @lavboat01 @preppyfella @diaboliku-loversu @mimipolo @ourseasone @loveeblob @ritapitmargarita @xoxolakeyah @mysatnin @pearforabear @deathbytsubaki @nnamgyu @editedjeans @app17shampoo @scuzmunkie @babyiscrying @shadowquokka @gigisaquarium (let me know if you wanna be added)

[startaegi]

wow i finally managed to write 700 words towards chapter 7 of favourite crime, so sorry for abandoning it for so long i had no motivation to write 🙁 will try post before the weekend is over for anyone still interested !! 🤍

[startaegi]

just read the first chapters of your namgyu fic and i love the childhood sweetheart trope it's a classic and also refreshing in the way you play it!

thank you so so much 🤍 ur message has gave me the motivation i needed to continue writing 😭

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 006 . . . favourite crime

previous next masterlist playlist

You awoke to the sound of classical music. For a second, you couldn't recall where you were; the thin mattress and scratchy blanket did not belong to you. You slowly sat up, wiping the sleep from your eyes. It all returned to you when you gazed upon Namgyu in the next bunk. He was also waking up, stretching the knots from his neck. You were glad to see he also got some sleep.

You moved to the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side. You stretched out your body, groaning at the pain in your back, you slept curled so far into yourself you weren't sure you would be able to undo it.

"Stay with me today," Namgyu said, breaking the silence between you.

You looked up from your feet, eyes catching his. He looked exhausted. "Just because you were here last night doesn't mean we're friends again." Your feet hit the floor before he could reply. "I appreciate you watching over me, but I'm not going to suddenly forget everything that happened, Namgyu."

He flinched at your words, teeth tucked between his lips. He opened them to speak when he was interrupted by his purple-haired companion. "Namsu, this must be your lovely fiancé." He smirked. You stared at him, a bored look on your face. "Hello, Senorita"

You ignored him, turning to face Namgyu, "Pick the triangle."

He looked back in confusion, moving from the bed to follow you as you walked away. "What do you mean?" He shouted after you. "What triangle?"

You heard player 230 speak over him, "Chicks, man, they talk in riddles."

The doors opened with an abrupt bang, guards entering with their heads held high. You approached Daeho and the other men you had met the previous night. An announcement came through the speaker: "Attention, the second game will begin momentarily. Please follow the instructions from our staff."

The players didn't take long to form a line, all heading in the same direction. You followed closely behind Daeho, who'd repeated a mantra to himself to pick the triangle. You hoped on your walk that Namgyu also remembered your words; despite your coldness, you would never wish for him to be dead. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

The double doors opened into a large playroom. The guards welcomed them inside. Everyone mimicked your actions, looking around the room in confusion and wonder. Two large rainbow circles stood out against the sand, strangely resembling a racetrack.

"Welcome to your second game," The woman's voice said through a speaker. "This game will be played in teams." You, although not knowing much about children's games, knew Dalgona was not played in teams. 456 was also being played. "Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes"

456's face was an expression of distraught as the player who looked to be a friend spoke up, "Is Dalgona a team game?"

Player 100, who had been getting on your nerves from the first day, interrupted, "Aren't we playing the Dalgona game?"

"No, it doesn't look like it," player 456 replied, his voice on edge.

"What's the game?" player 100 asked.

"I'm not sure."

"What? You said you'd done this before," The old man spat. His close allies huddled around him in agreement. "That triangle was the easiest. Was that all bullshit?"

"I'm sorry," the previous winner apologised, bowing his head in shame.

"Sorry won't cut it! You talked like you knew everything," Player 100 seethed. "All these people believed your bullshit. What are you going to do? Will you take responsibility?"

Before you could open your mouth to support him, player 001 stepped in front. "That's enough," he ordered.

Player 100 jolted back, clearly intimidated. He stuttered a little, embarrassed at being confronted when the woman's voice called across the yard again. "Please divide into teams now," she said, and a ten-minute timer appeared on the wall above them.

You felt Daeho tug at your sleeve and hook his arm with yours. It was funny how comfortable you had become with him in such a short amount of time. "Let's stick together," he whispered.

You nodded in reply.

"All right, let's be real men and give it a shot," Player 390 said, hands on his hips. You awkwardly stood beside Daeho, unsure if the other men had noticed your quiet presence. "It's a children's game, right? We used to play games all the time."

Daeho gave you a comforting smile before speaking up. "That's right, sirs. We'll join you," he said, motioning towards you beside him. "I feel like I can do anything with you."

Player 390 looked at you wearily. Of course, to a group of men in a competition that could result in death, you, as a woman, was seen as weak. You felt like shrinking in on yourself, uneasy under his stare, but you held your head high.

Player 001 noticed the tension between you both, quickly interjecting, "We have everyone then," He said and then pointed to each player, counting as he went, his finger landing on you last. "Five"

You smiled, bowing. "Thank you, sir."

It was silly to thank him for such a thing, but he was, in a sense, saving your life—that was if they won. He smiled back at you with a nod, and although all seemed well, you could still sense Player 390 still felt uneasy toward you.

They made small talk for the next few minutes, eyeing the bustling crowd as each player went to the next, begging to be accepted. It reminded you of school, being looked down upon as you practically begged the other children to be your friend. These games were just another popularity contest.

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupted. You looked from the other players to a girl, not much younger than you, with 222 embroidered on her chest. "Can I join you?" she questioned.

"Sorry, we already have five people" You were shocked that the person to reply was 390.

"Please help me," The girl pleaded, resting a hand on her stomach. "I'm pregnant."

Your breath caught in your throat. How on earth had she been allowed to participate?

"Oh, your belly.." Daeho murmured, his face also matching yours.

"You can join," You finally said, unhooking your arm from Daeho's. "I'll find another team."

"What-" Daeho stuttered, grabbing onto your wrist. "You can't"

You shook your head, gently removing his hand from your touch. "I might be able to find a team, but she might not be so lucky," You said honestly, then turned to 222. "Sorry"

The girl stood twiddling with the sleeves of her zipper, "You don't have to do that."

"Are you sure?" Player 001 questioned his attention on you.

You nodded, "I'll see you all after the game," you said, hoping your words rang true. Then, you faced Daeho again. "Don't die"

"Wait, but-" Daeho started again but stopped, finally accepting that you wouldn't be changing your mind. "Please stay safe."

You wandered around for the next minute or so, your heart beginning to pound as you realised how difficult it would be. Every group you passed was already huddled together in five or staring you down to the point it wouldn't be worth asking. You, however, remained calm, your panic only simmering on the inside. If they saw a panicked girl, there was no way anyone would accept you.

Namgyu's rushing figure entered your vision, passing through the countless bodies with a shove. He called your name as he approached you. "You don't have a group?"

You were quick to reply, "I do." It was like a part of you didn't want him to see you struggle. Didn't want him to be the reason you were suddenly okay again. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

"Why are you walking around like you're lost then?" He questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm just stretching my legs. Isn't it stuffy in here?" You laughed, fake and a little anxiously. "Well, I should get back on my walk, goodbye."

You didn't turn back to see his reaction, but you imagined he was glued to the spot in confusion. You quickly walked through the groups of people in hopes of losing Namgyu, desperately on the lookout for anyone alone or in smaller huddles. A face came into view, a woman you had briefly passed on a few occasions. She was alone like you.

You approached the woman without hesitation, "Do you want to join me?" You asked abruptly, alarming the stranger.

"Oh," She replied, taken aback, unclasping her hands before answering. "I would like that."

You smiled thankfully, "Can you see anyone else alone?"

"I noticed some players earlier, but they were hesitant."

You didn't let that stop you, "Show me."

The pair that Hyunju, the woman you had first teamed up with, had noticed reluctantly joined your group. You could tell they were silently judging her; the older woman had more than once eyed Hyunju in a not-so-nice manner. You hadn't known her for too long, but you could already sense a kind aura around her. You didn't understand.

All players sat in perfectly neat rows of five inside the rainbowed circles. The woman on the speaker announced that the next game would be a six-legged pentathlon. You felt your hands become sweaty at the words, and your legs jittered as you controlled yourself to sit still. The inside of your lips had become a mess, and the metallic taste of blood coated your tongue. Five mini-games to complete in five minutes. Five games you had no idea how to play.

"What game are you good at?" Hyunju asked through the cloudy haze, then called your name when she earned no reply. 

"None," you panicked. "I don't know any of these games." You didn't have a chance to be insecure about appearing weak. You were genuinely terrified.

Hyunju grasped your hand reassuringly, her features softening. "You're okay," she said. "You played Ddajki before you came here, right?" You nodded. "And you must've won a few rounds, or you wouldn't be here?" Again, you nodded. "Then you can play Ddajki."

"Okay," You replied, clutching Hyunju's hand tighter. "I don't want to be the reason you all die."

Hyunju shook her head, this time taking both of your hands in her own, "We aren't going to die, okay?" She reassured. "We'll get through this."

When the time came for your team to play their turn, you were forever grateful to Hyunju. You felt more confident in your ability to not kill your new teammates despite the fact your shaking limbs said otherwise. You, Hyunju, and your other teammates, who you now knew as Geumja, Yongsik, and Seonnyeo stood at the start line, a look of determination on each of your faces.

"I believe we can do this," Hyunju said positively, but her voice shook as she spoke. "Let's show everyone else here that these games are no big deal."

You all nodded in agreement, hesitantly but ready for whatever may come at you. The speaker's voice blared across the room as the guards attached each of your legs together, "Teams three and four, get ready."

Like a speed race, you linked arms together, one by one, Seonnyeo praying to her gods to protect her. You weren't one to believe, but you found yourself following along to her prayer, begging them to spare you this time, to save Namgyu and your new friends you had found in this messed-up place, to give them one more chance at life.

A gunshot bounced off the walls, signaling the start of the pentathlon. You didn't have time to think before you took off across the track, chanting one-two as you went.

You snatched up the blue and red Ddajki cards, fixed on the coloured squares, attempting to ignore the hundreds of eyes upon you. You threw the blue card to the ground, narrowly missing the red. You groaned in frustration and tried again, missing once more.

"Fail" The woman repeated each time you attempted another go.

"You're okay," Hyunju said from beside you. "Take your time."

You breathed heavily through your nose, struggling to take in a big enough breath. The thought that death may be around the corner sent your heart racing.

"Try it with the other side," Hyunju suggested, fast and panicked but comfortingly. "The other side," she said again as you turned over the blue card.

With one final smack, the red card was finally flipped. You had never felt such relief in your entire years of living. Abrupt cheers echoed around you, your teammates also matching the crowd. You looked at them in shock.

"You did it!" They shouted proudly. "Okay, let's go, next one!"

You all carefully walked, quick enough to get there in a few seconds but slow enough that you wouldn't topple over. This repeated for the next four games. The player playing would take their time but eventually succeeded in moving them to the next. You didn't once dare look at the timer, knowing it would only frighten you more. Hyunju had been the last to play, succeeding in a matter of seconds and sending the entire playground into ecstatic cheers.

You couldn't fully celebrate your win—not when you knew Namgyu was yet to play, his proud yet anxious face staring up at you from the crowd. You had all faith that he would conquer it. He was never a person to give up, and his competitive streak gave you hope he wouldn't let down without a fight. You just hoped his teammates had the same ambition.

previous next masterlist playlist

notes . . . for the sake of the story (which i have big ideas for so hopefully it'll make up for no youngmi) youngmi isn't going to be here 💔 lets pretend shes off enjoying her life debt free and she never had to die!!!

taglist . . . @chrisstyle @seonghwasslytherin @princessofthepuppets @sollum @okaycharr @hoshisgalaxy @alexatthedisco @swoofllia @chxrrybomb22 @drkitten226 @ryvampr @bbyjjunie @learninglinesintherainn @smally97 @sft-core @enterplanettelex @prettywhenicry4 @zannispppp @juhdoche @nuttybeans @wagawana @xtracy-xd7 @slxtgirl69 @ihrthoney @zella-74 @ancientdarko @loverzxi @boomzen @godly-sinsx @sirenkinnie @skibidirizzzlerrrr @come-as-you-are-111 @mochimitsuri @lavboat01 @preppyfella @diaboliku-loversu @mimipolo @ourseasone @loveeblob @ritapitmargarita @xoxolakeyah @mysatnin @pearforabear @deathbytsubaki @nnamgyu @editedjeans (let me know if you wanna be added)

[startaegi]

saw your last post for the ryu suyeol fic and i'm already excited ✨️

i didn’t think anyone would be interested so thank u 🥹 first chapter soon 🤍

[startaegi]

shout out to you for making good nam-gyu fics cause im TIRED of those weird aah smut fics, thanks!!! ‹𝟹‎‧₊˚

we need more non smut namgyu fics !! thank u sm for reading, ur message made my weekend 🤍