#squid game season 2
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gihun-the-troubled-twink · 3 days ago
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Disappointed, but not surprised.
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meadowfics · 3 days ago
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reproduction
kang dae-ho x f!reader
its your ovulation day
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warnings: MDNI!! NSFW!! pure smut. smut with no plot. oral (r receiving). softdom!daeho. filthy, just pure FILTHY words coming out of dae-ho's mouth. he talks you through it. vulgar. unprotected p in v. breeding kink from both parties.
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“dae-ho please.” you plead as dae-ho pulls down your panties. 
the rest of your clothes were already on the hardwood floor.
“please what?” dae-ho’s eyes were darker as smiled down and kissed your inner thighs. you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding up onto his thigh as you felt yourself clench onto nothing..
“please fuck me.” you said and daeho started taking off his clothes.
the marine’s black shirt, then his black joggers, then his black boxers
you were hypnotized by daeho’s biceps, crossing your legs but moving your legs up to where you were displaying the waterfall inbetween your legs. daeho gripped his length as he stared.
“you’re so pretty. that pussy is so pretty.” daeho’s muscular frame leaned over to kiss your temple. he moved back in front of you and uncrossed your legs, seeing the most beautiful sight that he cannot get enough of. 
“who’s pussy?” daeho whispered to you.
you bit your chapped lip as you took your right hand, caressing his facial cheek with your thumb as you spread your legs further from the center. 
“yours, daeho.”
“good girl.”
the ex-marine spread your legs and started to kiss down your moisturized inner thighs, going closer and closer to where you want him to be.
daeho gave a few pecks before diving right in. you released the loudest moan as he kitten-licked your entire vagina before going lower to flick at your soft and swollen clit. your hands grabbed his long black hair as he held one hand on your soft waist and another massaging your inner left thigh.
“yea– fuck! oh myyy god” you called out as daeho’s warm tongue broke through your core, diving right into your walls as he pulled at the top of your privates, exposing your sensitive bud from its hood so he can work his thumb on it .
you know daeho is enjoying this as well due to his moans and sounds that cause vibrations on your vagina. after a couple of seconds, daeho humped himself against the bed.. giving his big cock a bit of friction. he pulled his head back and first saw your swollen bud, he smirked before he blowed onto it causing you to move her entire body to the right.
“no no, don’t move.” daeho held your entire body to stay in place before looking back to see your soaked vagina ready for him.
“please fuck me.” you say again as daeho pushed himself up. your mouth stared watering at the sight of his dick, ready for him to reorganize your insides.  
“how badly do you want me?” daeho places your legs on his shoulders before bending down to kiss you. you look down and moan at your boyfriend moving his tip along your soaked folds, you lightly squealed when it makes contact with your clit.
“i want you so bad, i need your dick!” you moaned against his mouth.  
“that’s good to know, my sweetheart.”
no matter how many times daeho entered you, your walls always need to adjust to his size. 
“you’re doing so good, mama, just breathe.” daeho lets you adjust and held both sides of your head. you take a few breaths as daeho nibbles along your earlobe. 
 “breathe in.” daeho stared into your loving eyes as you took a huge breath in, “breathe out.” 
“this is all mine.” the ex-marine mumbles to himself, admiring his length fully buried inside of your soaked walls. 
“fuck!” you cussed, pushing yourself to move against his length. daeho adjusted his body and started to pull in and out of you slowly, causing the two lovers to moan loudly.
the man wanted to take his time with you, always. the same reason your man always hated quickies, he needs to process all of the sensations he has when his cock is buried deep in your pussy. 
“harder.” you moaned out and daeho, being the good boy he is, listened to your request.
this as the best feeling in the world, to the both of you. 
for daeho, it's seeing the love of his life under him as she looks down at his dick rearranging her insides with her glassy eyes and swollen lips. for you, its seeing daeho’s jaw clench while he admires that features of your face, making sure that he does not let go and cum too early because of how good your vagina feels. 
“gosh you’re fucking soaked.” daeho whimpered while leaning his head down, giving you a prominent hickey below your inner jawline. you felt yourself clutch around his dick due to his whimpering. 
a new discovered kink… you thought. sometimes daeho doesn’t whimper and prefers groaning. 
“its like i am deep inside a pool full of water, gosh i need to cum inside of this pussy.” 
daeho starts babbling.
“daeho..” you moaned, a little too loud. 
“do you want me to cum inside?”  
your man asks for consent. 
“cum inside.” 
you kiss along his jaw as you feel his fat cock twitch deep inside your walls. 
the both of you moaned as your insides pulsed around his dick, “fuck fuck fuck i’m gonna-“ you moaned before you finally released all over daeho. 
“shi-shit I’m almost done, just gotta make sure every last drop gets in there..” daeho fucked into your hold more as he felt himself coming.  
“fuck!” you felt daeho release inside, painting your walls white. 
earlier, you checked your period tracker app and saw that today is your ovulation day. 
yet somehow, you forgot about it. 
so, no wonder why your pregnancy test came back positive eight weeks later. 
masterlist
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nn-senpai · 2 days ago
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AU thing again🫶 (considering lining this)
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wyndy31 · 3 days ago
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AHAHAHAHA JEEZ THANOS N NAM-GYU ARE SO SILLY, I LIKE IT VERY MUCH
YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH
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GENRE: Fluff, crack fic ish?
PAIRING: Choi su-bong/thanos x preg!fem!reader
FEAT: Nam gyu as the supportive bestie (that he never rlly was)
A/N: this fic i based of a request from anon !! Tbh i changed ALOT of the request (haha- sorry 😞) because I felt like it was a little repetitive and idk i just can't write rlly emotional scenes with Thanos for some reason (??) ALSO I feel like there are parts where Thanos seems ooc? Idk.. i wrote this instead of studying in the span of 30 mins
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"Whoo!" You hear Thanos shout on the top of his voice while he high fives nam gyu as they both jump up and down as if they were children in elementary school after winning a play ground game
You manage your groan, suppressing it while you stare at them from afar, of course that crazy fucker managed to pass through the first game.
You hated to admit it, but a part of you was relieved,
You always had a thing for psycho guys, and your ex boyfriend? The one with the brightly dyed hair who was now doing some weird dance seemed to proudly embody every part of that sentiment.
You carefully watch from afar, not wanting to catch his eyes, your hand unknowingly lay over your stomach while you move uncomfortably in the bunk bed
Fuck, your feeling dizzy all over again
You hear a thud against your bed post, you look up slowly, your eyes slightly squinting to see the purple haired boy with a usual frown on his face
"Hey" his eyebrows raise "are you okay"
"I thought I told you to get lost earlier"
Your mood swings weren't really helping either
"Geez woman" thanos tchs but sits beside you in your bed anyways "im just trying to help" grumbling under his breath but the cautious expression in his face saied otherwise
"I came here to brag about how amazing i usually am but seeing you like this is just killing the vibe yknow"
he makes a hand gesture in the air, leaning face closer in an attempt to make you smile which does not go wasted as the smile you tried to supress escaped your face
"Fuck off you loser" your still kneeling, your hands over your knees and your face hiding behind your knees but he hears the smile in your voice anyways.
He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was relieved
He always had a thing for girls with pretty voices and you? The girl right next to him had to have one of the prettiest voices he had ever heard. Ofcourse who would better know than a rapper like himself?
"I thought I told you to stick close to me, instead you leech to that crazy old man" thanos says as he points towards gi hun who sat far away in the opposite side
You immediately slap his hand, causing him to wince while retracing it back, rubbing it softly
"How many times will I tell you! You shouldn't point your hands at strangers especially to people who are older" you scold him rather loudly causing him to wince even more
"Agh" thanos ruffles his neon hair while complaining "why don't you shout louder so that everyone will hear and laugh at me?"
You resist the urge to roll your eyes upon his childish manners, he really didn't change
Thanos suddenly bangs the top of the bunk with a loud sound, taking you by shock
"Oi" his voice loud and almost threatening "nam gyu" calling out the man above the bed
Immediately your taken by shock once more when a man's head pops upside down, with black oily hair falling all over his face from above the bed
"Yes Thanos?" Nam gyu quickly inquired while sparing you a quick glance which didn't go unnoticed by the scowling man next to you
"Did you hear her telling me off?" He points at nam gyu before quickly adding "careful, there's only one correct answer"
Nam gyu pauses and thinks which seems to be the wrong thing to do as it just annoys Thanos
"Whats wrong with you, tell me quickly!"
"N-no! Not at all! Infact nobody heard anything!" Nam gyu quickly says, obviously lying but this seemed to please Thanos who now held a haughty face
Wow, this is was supposedly the father of your unborn child. Shame you and your taste in weird guys
Before Thanos could open his mouth to say something, a group of pink guards enter the room with large containers
Straight away you freeze up, shrinking behind the bed while your heart hammered, fear spread across your face
Noticing your expression on your face, instinctively Thanos covers you with his back, shielding you with his arms which covered your sides while his expression, though you could not see was filled with wariness
The pink guards open the large containers they were carrying as everyone watched quietly, scared as they were unsure of what to expect, you included
The pink guard with the white circle lifts up a piece of bread and milk "lunch time" announcing in the same robotic voice like all the other guards
A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your shoulders relax, unlike you Thanos still shields you, covering your face with his back
You hit him with a thud on the back of his head
"What the hell man" thanos turns around, his eyes glaring at you
"Stop trying to act like a hero you shameless prick" you frown even though his actions did leave you with a warm feeling in your heart
"Your acting so protective after all the stunt you pulled before we broke up" you continue "seeing you act all so protective is just pissing me off even more"
Thanos throws his head back, groaning "give me a break woman. You know I was going through a hard time"
"Bullshit" your fold your arms, as if it was act to protect yourself, and the unborn baby in your stomach.
The poor thing was only 2 months old
The both of you hear nam gyu cough from above the bed, forgetting that he was there in the first place
Again Thanos bangs the top of the bunk, causing you to give him a look
"Stop doing that" you scold him
"doing what?" Thanos raises his eyebrow before banging the top of the bunk again while sticking his tongue at you
Nam gyu pops back down again, upside down, the sight would have been hilarious only if you weren't experiencing the pain in your stomach and the sight of the man sitting beside you
"Go get lunch for me and my girl" thanos tilts his head towards you while avoiding your eyecontact while you tell yourself not to think about the fact that he still referred to you as 'his girl'
"go fast what are you still doing here" thanks reprimanded nam gyu
Nam gyu awkwardly stood unsure of what to say "but it's just one bread and one milk per person"
"Then give her yours" thanos said simply "and go steal someone's lunch for me"
"Then what about for me?" Nam gyu asked dumbfounded which caused Thanos to pause and think for a while
"That's not my fucking problem man- now go" he pushes him away, leaving you with a heavy sigh
"I don't want to eat"
"Don't talk bullshit" thanos eyes you "you think i'm gonna let you starve? I never did, and i wont be starting now"
Again with the whole protective boyfriend act, fuck, why did it make your heart race a little?
"Your still such an asshole, you didnt change a bit" you huffed as you leaned behind, resting your back against the wall
"Well you changed" thanos says which quirks your curiosity
"How so?'
"I don't know" he shrugs "something is different. Something happened, i can't exactly ppint my fi ger at it though"
Your eyes dart away from his while your breathing started to fasten slightly
"Oh yea? How so?" You ask, your voice slightly higher than it was which Thanos picks up immediately
"Ohoho" he grins "did I get it right? Did you get something done?" He glances you up and down which leads you to hitting him
"Ow- i was just joking, you still take everything so seriously" he grumbled holding your hand from hitting him "I wish that part had changed'
Your other hand comes swinging which he again grabs softly
"jokingg" he says in a sing song voice before letting both your arms go leaving you with a scowl and him with a satisfied smirk in his face
"Asshole" you mutter which stretches his smirk even more
"You still like it though"
You almost swear you heard a hint of vulnerability in his tone, prompting you to glance at him quickly just to catch him already looking at you
"So? Aren't you gonna ask me what has changed?" You ask slowly, in your head trying to process whether your doing the right thing or not,
You first found out you were pregnant with your baby right after you and Thanos broke up.
The following days, whenever you went to pay him a visit, he was always missing, causing you to believe maybe it was better for him not to know. And then you suddenly meet him for the first time after your breakup during the squid games
The timing was almost comical
"Why?" Thanos continued still with an amused face "you still seem the same on the inside"
Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, slowly tracing along it from above the green track jacket which everyone wore
"Don't tell me your sick or something" thanos asks with his voice slightly raised as he notices your action "fuck are you?"
His eyes slightly widens as he frowns "hey" he snaps his finger upon your zoning out "are you sick?"
"Hm?" You ask confused
"What the fuck" he swears under his breath with a anxious expression on his face while his hand runs through his finger "is that why your here? To win some money for your treatment?"
"Su Bong its not like that-" All your attempts of correcting him seemed to be futile as he sweared loudly, getting out of the bed
"Shit shit shit!" He grabs his head while he paced around the floor, a sight you had seen a few times over the span of your relationship
"ofcourse that's why your here, you would only be here for a sensible reason"
"Oh, su bong" you attempt to appeal to him, reaching your hand out, pulling his closer towards you while he hands were still over his head, eyes lowered
"Fuck baby I'm so sorry" he breathed out "shit i never should have left, i thought" he paused "I thought I'd win some money and get you back, give you the life you really deserve but"
You watch his dazed expression while he rambled, you bit you underlip, hesitant of whether to tell him the truth still
"Fuck, i didn't even know that, i didn't even know you were sick-"
Before he could continue again you grab his face , forcing him to look at your face
"I'm not sick, that's not why im here"
Thanos breathed heavily, everything felt so real suddenly, he felt his cross necklace strapped around his neck, his fingers itching to pop a pill in his mouth to sooth his nerves
"I'm not sick" you shake your head as you lean your forehead against his "su-bong"
You can still feel his strained breaths and darting eyes
"I'm pregnant"
And it all stopped,
You held your breath, afraid of what would happen if you let go, your could heart your heartbeat from your ears, feel the realisation setting inside thanos,
You were scared. Scared of how he would react
He breaks away first, slowly and gently. Staring at you with no expression in his face,
"And it's yours" you rapidly feel the need to add, taken back by his silence which didn't not suit him "and i know having a kid was never in your plan, and i know things are over between us but-"
Your body is wrapped by his arms and his face nestles in your neck, pulling your deeper in his embrace
"Holy shit" thanos whispers in your ear, you can hear the giddiness radiating off his voice "im a dad"
"Yea you are" you laugh a little as you say "your a dad"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I never got the chance to"
Thanos furrows his eyebrows but doesn't press any more "will you let me be our baby's dad?" He ask
"You know I grew up without a dad, this kid doesn't deserve that" he pokes your stomach with a soft grin which looked slightly odd against his eccentric features "I wanna be in this kids life"
You nodd softly, hearing his words
"And yours too" thanos looks up to you, grinning while he winked at you "senorita"
"You corny bastard" you laugh shaking your head
"You still like it though"
You nodd your head, with tenderness in your eyes and voice
"I do"
₊˚。⋆❆⋆。˚₊ extra scene pack !!
"Thanos!" Nam gyu came running with 3 pieces of sweet bread and 3 packets of milk "I got it! Do you know how much trouble i went to get all these-"
"Give it here " thanos grabbed all the bread and milk away "why did you take so long anyways"
Nam gyu held his hands as he pouted "I mean- i had to fight like 2 guys for bread and milk for us-"
Thanos brushed him off as he opened all the packets of bread and poked in the straw of all the milk packets
"Uhm thanos" nam gyu apprehensively called out "What are you doing?"
Thanos hands you all the bread and urges you to eat while he holds the packets of milk in his hand, ready to feed you
Thanos gestures towards you who was sitting in the bed, now wrapped in not only your jacket but his aswell "can't you see the lady is pregnant"
Nam gyu scratched his head "pregnant? With who?"
Thanos shakes his head, exaggerating his actions "dumb ass, she's pregnant with my baby ofcourse" he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world
"Holy shit!" Nam gyu gaped his hand covering his mouth as he stares at you while you sheepishly smile at him
Thanos let out a small laugh which then slowly grew louder
"What? Why are you surprised? Ofcourse i succeeded in my first try- fuck" he kneels down in pain after being striked by you in the stomach
Nam gyu pulls a face in behalf of Thanos as he pats his back sympathetically while he whispers to you
"Don't worry. I know it probably wasnt his first try or anything- ow" nam gyu kneels on the ground after being hit in the stomach by thanos
₊˚。⋆❆⋆。˚₊
"What... what are you guys doing?" You question as you approach Thanos and nam gyu who were huddled up in a corner, in a long rather quiet conversation which seemed like an unusual activity for both of them to part take in
Both in the 'discussion' and 'quiet' part
Thanos loops his arm around your with a proud smirk on his face while urging nam gyu to announce what they were discussing
Nam gyu nodds eagerly as gets up in his two feet quickly, standing straight and tall with a loud and confident voice "we have decided the perfect name for the baby !!"
You see thanos's broad smile and nam gyu's confident voice, uneasiness settling in your stomach for whatever name they picked out
"These is the name that Thanos and i have personally given a lot of thought for and chosen after much contemplation !!"
Thanos nodded his head with a content expression while he winked at you, assuring that you'll like it
"Ahem" nam gyu clears his throat "before I announce the name that we have chosen, i would like to give recognition to the name we almost chose aswell !!"
Thanos immediately began clapping his hand loudly "waaah, I never knew you could speak so well "
This comment made nam gyu's chest fill swell with pride as he puffs out his chest a little
"I shall now, announce the first runners up, the name that almost was given to the new born baby"
nam gyu pauses which prompts Thanos to make the sound of drum rolls
"Nebula" nam gyu announces as he and thanos clap loudly.
Seeing your still figure both men urge you to claps aswell
"Nebula?" You mutter under your breath "where have i heard that name before?"
"And now, the name that has been selected over numerous selection test and discussion, the name of the baby is" nam gyu points at your stomach
"Gamora"
Thanos whoops loudly, both nam gyu and him clapping their hands in the air while you stand off handedly as it hits you
"Your naming our child after the daughter of the purple alien monster from a superhero movie?!"
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greengoblinswifey · 2 days ago
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imagine having an affair with your stepfather hwang in-ho
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warnings— stepcest, minors DNI.
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Stepdad!In-ho was the last man you expected your mother to bring home, but from the moment you met him, there was something about him that made your pussy throb. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he thought no one was looking, or the way his smooth voice dropped low whenever he spoke to you. It felt wrong, the pull you felt toward him, but you convinced yourself it was nothing. He was just attractive, that was all.
Stepdad!In-ho proposed to your mother suspiciously fast. Barely a few months after meeting, a diamond ring gleamed on her finger, and she was gushing about wedding plans. You tried to ignore the way he met your gaze as she showed off her ring, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Fast, isn’t it?” you had commented. “Why wait?” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his drink. His gaze flickered to your tits briefly before returning to your mother, but you felt it.
Stepdad!In-ho had a presence that filled a room, making it impossible to ignore him. He was always composed, always in control, and somehow, that only made him more frustrating. More intriguing. More attractive. Every brush of his hand on your waist when passing by, every lingering glance, every low chuckle at something you said—it was as if he was playing a game only the two of you knew existed.
Stepdad!In-ho never crossed any lines—yet, but he didn’t have to. The tension was in the silences, in the way he stood a little too close, in the way your breath hitched when he looked at you like he saw something he shouldn’t. You knew it was wrong to think about him like that, but knowing didn’t stop the heat that pooled in your core whenever he was near.
Stepdad!In-ho was good at keeping secrets—you could tell. Maybe that was why you found yourself drawn to him. Because despite everything, you wanted to know what lay beneath the surface. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted you to find out.
Stepdad!In-ho had a habit of appearing at the right place at the right time, always watching. In the hallway late at night when you left your room for water, when you passed him in the living room, when your mother wasn’t paying attention. His gaze never wavered, never faltered. And yet, he never said a word about it. Neither did you.
Stepdad!In-ho wasn’t one for unnecessary conversation, but when he spoke, his voice carried weight. “Be careful,” he once murmured when you nearly bumped into him in the kitchen, steadying you with a firm hand on your waist before stepping back like nothing had happened. The touch was brief, insignificant. But it lingered in your mind longer than it should have.
Stepdad!In-ho made sure your mother never wanted for anything, lavish gifts, weekend trips with her friends, anything to keep her occupied. And that left you alone with him more often than you expected. The air between you was always filled with underlying sexual tension neither of you acknowledged. Until one evening, when your mother was away, and you finally cornered him, not expecting him to retaliate, not expecting the shift in his expression when you tested the boundaries you both had pretended didn’t exist.
Stepdad!In-ho smirked, his usual unreadable expression giving way to something else. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” His voice was deep, amused, but there was something dangerous beneath it. Something that made your pulse race. You didn’t answer. And for the first time, he didn’t hold back.
Stepdad!In-ho didn’t stop you. The moment your lips pressed against his, you thought he would push you away, tell you this was wrong, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands found your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer, his grip firm like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. You could feel how hard his big cock was pressed up against you.
Stepdad!In-ho was always composed, always in control, but not now. His lips moved against yours with purpose, claiming, his hands roaming in a way that made your pussy throb. When he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his voice was lower than usual. “You know there’s no going back now, right?” You swallowed hard, nodding. You didn’t want to go back.
Stepdad!In-ho took every opportunity to fuck you after that. When your mother was home, his touches were fleeting, his fingers grazing yours as he handed you something, standing just a little too close when no one was looking, his lips brushing against your ear when he leaned in to say something low enough that only you could hear. But when she was away? He didn’t hold back.
Stepdad!In-ho was always in control, he never let you doubt where you stood with him. “I own you now,” he whispered against your skin one night, after he had emptied his cum inside you. “You’re mine.” And all you could do was whimper, his words sinking into you.
Stepdad!In-ho had only one rule—“Don’t tell your mother.” But he didn’t have to worry. You would never tell her. Not when you wanted his cock like the air you breathed. Not when it felt so wrong but so right at the same time.
Stepdad!In-ho fucked you on every surface of the house he bought for you and your mother. That included the bed he shared with her. You were his now, after all. By the time he’d be finished with you, you’d be a dumb, babbling mess. Trembling and fucked out. Your pleasure was his responsibility, and he loved to make you feel good as you moaned daddy in his ear. The nickname was innocent at first, even your mother was on board with it, but you and him both knew exactly what you meant by it.
Stepdad!In-ho took you anywhere, anytime. After a while, he stopped caring if your mother was in the house during one of your escapades. He’d simply put his hand over your mouth and tell you to “shut the fuck up and take my cock.” Being the good girl you were, you did exactly as you were told. She didn’t think twice about the amount of time you were spending together. In fact, she encouraged it, wanting her daughter and her new stepfather to get to know each other better.
Stepdad!In-ho’s best decision was marrying your mother. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gotten such a tight, wet pussy to get every night. He wouldn’t have gotten a pretty young thing on his arm. He wouldn’t have had his good girl to do anything he wanted. You were everything he could ever want. His real life fantasy fulfilled.
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mariesdolls · 2 days ago
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Favoritism
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you dreaded the idea of taking your last class for college. it was your final semester before transfering over to the Seoul’s academy and your last required class just had to be an art class.
you appreciate the arts but seriously? you later changed your mind about this class until your professor was painting your insides white.
-
Thanos was mesmerized as he watched your tight little cunt swallow his cock whole. the position where he has you bent over has him hitting your spot each time he pushes forward. with each hard thrust you knew you weren’t going to last long, again.
he holds onto your shoulder as he keeps one of his hands on the top of your ass, letting you rock back and forth in his shallow thrusts. the stretch makes you tremble, slick with want. you find your old nail scratches etched into his desk, now adding new ones in this position he’s placed you in.
“so cute,” he praises, his mouth slightly parted and his eyes half lidded. “how can my cutie have such filthy thoughts about me?”
you don’t know how long you’ll last. with the way he was praising you, calling you his, and him rubbing your clit again to make you reach an earth shattering high. you were so close and he can tell. your walls were so desperate to milk dry. all you can feel is how he stretches you to perfection, your mouth drooling from the absolute pleasure he was giving you.
your orgasm slams into you and your vision whitens, clenching around him as he fucks you through it.
“so good to me,” he pants, “my favorite and best student.” he sighs against your neck, sending goosebumps to your skin. he gently takes ahold of you by the neck, angling you for a tender but for a slightly messy kiss while his hands rub the side of your ass.
he helps you clean the mess between your thighs with his handkerchief as you fix the top of your shirt. he gently helps you slide on your panties, guiding your leg over the entrance, then the other, before placing a tender kiss on the inner part of your thigh.
“try and focus today cutie, don’t wanna go rough on you tonight.” he tilts his head and winks, patting your thigh that you’re good to go before any students see.
-
you were known as the model student in this class. always the first to arrive and always looking the best. many of your peers don’t know how you do it and why but truly your motivation was him.
your art could no where compete with his so you always found yourself reaching his help, hoping for his attention- not that you cared much for the projects. it was him you wanted, his touch, his gaze, the thrill of being near him was almost electrifying.
his presence was impossible to ignore. his hand covers yours as he helps guide your brush. his chest pressed gently against your back and his steady breath on the back of your neck made your heart race.
thankfully the canvas you had was large enough to cover both of you. no one could see the way his lips brushed against your ear as he murmured small praises and the way his fingertips lingered on your skin longer than necessary. they couldn’t see the way his hand slipped off your waist as he left you to do your work.
“class is almost over. make sure to clean up your stations and you’re free to go.” he says in a deeper tone, one that he never used much to you whenever you two were alone.
the hum of class chatter, the shuffle of footsteps as students packed up and cleaned their stations, filled the room. one by one, they all trickled out, only a few remained.
as you gathered your things, your eyes found his across the room. his gaze locked with yours and a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
neither of you looked away. his eyes followed you and you could feel the weight of his stare as you made your way to the door. you let your gaze linger for a moment before you stepped out of the room, knowing he was still watching until your figure completely disappeared from his sight.
-
a trail of your clothes and his litter in his room to his bed.
“fuuuuck, cutie, - hah. fuck you’re so fucking wet for me,” he lets out a groan that comes from deep in his chest. he takes a couple more breaths, clenching his eyes close and finds solitude in the crook of your neck. his palms could basically leave his handprints on your ass where he’s squeezing so tight.
he thrusts into you deeply, matching your rhythm while you clamp down on his cock. your body seizes as your orgasm washes over your body and continues fucking you through it, trying to find his own.
you hear him whine and continue to let him have your way with you while you grab onto him. he can’t control the sounds that come out of him as he lets out such soft and pretty sounds in your ears. you know he’s getting closer and closer until you feel his cum flooding inside of you.
he continues thrusting inside of you, taking advantage of your hot walls squeezing down on him. he catches his breath with his head still down and you can feel his breath on your chest as you stroke the back of his head.
“thanos?” you asked soflty, your hands intertwining with his soft locks. “are you alright?”
he lifts his head away from your neck, his eyes refocusing on you again. a mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, his hands find your back and draw you down with him, the plush of his mattress catching you both. the unexpected movement earns a surprised yelp from you.
“i love you,” he mutters under his breath, unsure if you heard it. both of you were still hazy from what just happened a couple seconds ago.
your fingers trail absentmindedly over the locket around his neck, fiddling with the cool metal. his hands cover yours, gently guiding it away from the chain and refocusing your attention back to him.
“i love you too,” you murmur.
118 notes · View notes
cupidsonly · 2 days ago
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i’ve been laughing at jung bae’s face for 2 minutes straight 😭
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Family photo material.
1K notes · View notes
thesquidgame · 20 hours ago
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Promises
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Kang Dae-ho x reader
Summary: You and Dae-ho's relationship, from the beginning, to one night in a subway station.
Warning: female reader who can get pregnant, abusive parents, existential crisis, misogyny and toxic masculinity (not from Dae-ho), PTSD, shootings, injury, infertility, a lot of medical talk, surgery, male infertility, guilt and hopelessness, medical emergency with a pregnant woman, premature baby, lmk if I missed anything
The character's references to their infertility is their emotions and feelings towards the situation as a trauma response. A person struggling with infertility is not broken or a failure in any way whatsoever.
15k
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It was the middle of the night, when you met Dae-ho. You were working at your job in a convenience store, and were staring at your phone. You had been scrolling for what felt like hours when you heard someone approach the cash register. You put your phone down, preparing for a quick transaction. Only to be surprised that  when you looked up, you saw the most attractive man you had ever seen in your entire life. 
He was wearing a full military uniform, and his hat was off revealing a shaved head.
“Um, hi.” You said, immediately internally face-palming because of your stupid first line.
“Hi!” The man said, “just this please!” He was smiling, even though it was after midnight on a Monday.
You panned down to see a candy bar and a sugary drink guaranteed to rot anyone’s teeth. Shockingly, you had only ever sold it to children before. 
“Um, yeah of course.” Jeez, was um the only word in your vocabulary?
You quickly scanned the items, and the smiling military man grabbed them both, “thanks, see you later!”
Puzzled, you stared at him as he walked away, confused as to what had just happened with that smiling sculpted-by-the-gods man.
The man came in every night after that, always around midnight, and always with a smile on his face. After the first day, you noticed that he would go outside, eat whatever he had bought in front of the door, and then leave. You understood, sometimes after your shift ended you would stand in front of the convenience store for a while, just sighing. It was nice to have a moment of peace somewhere besides work or home.
After a week you got the courage to go outside and talk to him, “hi, excuse me, you’re welcome to come inside.” He turned, looking at you as he sipped his drink through a straw, “I just mean… I have another chair, you could. Um.” You paused, mortified. “I’m sorry, ignore me.” You hesitated for another second before saying, “Sir?” You were unsure of the title you should greet him with
He laughed, in a way that clearly felt like he was not admonishing you. “Sorry, that would be great.” He reached out his hand towards you, “and the only people who call me sir are the new recruits, you can call me Dae-ho.” You shook his hand.
Dae-ho came and sat on a chair that was halfway behind the cashier, and halfway in the open. “I’m sorry to be so awkward, I just don’t talk to too many people on the night shift. It’s the middle of winter so I thought you would be more comfortable inside.” He looked at you, entirely seriously, “I don’t think you’re awkward at all.”
You smiled, looking away from him. If he looked in your eyes he would definitely see how flustered you were. “Thank you.”
You were terrible at flirting. Terrible, awful. Every attempt you had made with previous guys and crashed and burned. The only people you actually dated were alpha male types who took control of every situation. They said the first line, your conversations followed their lead, and when you approached a topic they didn’t understand, or didn’t want to talk about, that would no longer be the topic you were talking about. 
Dae-ho wasn’t like that. At all.
Whenever you approached a new topic he would prop his elbow up on the table and rest his head on his hand, staring at you intently. No matter how long it would take you to get the idea across, or how long you rambled on about one topic, he would listen. He would never interrupt, only ask questions when you were done.
On one especially cold night, the power went out. The streets had become icy, and Dae-ho refused to let you make your way home in the dark by yourself. And you refused to let him walk you home, only to turn around right after and walk by himself in the dangerous conditions to the subway station.
So, you both were sitting in the back room of the tiny little convenience store, as far from the front as possible to stay warm until the power came back on. Your phone said it would be in an hour at most, and you crossed your fingers that it would because it was getting colder by the minute.
There was something about a small room, with no windows, that made deep conversations so much easier. Dae-ho was sitting cross-legged in front of you, talking about his mother and sisters, and how close he was with all of them even into adulthood. It made perfect sense, every time you learned something about him it clicked perfectly into place like a puzzle piece.
“All of my sisters have kids already. My oldest sister has three already.” He said, eating a bag of chips that you snagged from inventory.
“Three, well that’s not so bad. One of my friends in high school had eight siblings.” You laughed, and Dae-ho grimaced.
“Nine kids, and I thought five was way too many.” He said, chuckling.
“By the way Dae-ho, I just realized I never asked how old you are.” You felt embarrassed. That was one of the first questions you were supposed to ask, but somehow you had skipped that step. Dae-ho had insisted you talk informally even though he was in the military, and you begrudgingly did so. It would be amusing if he was younger than you after all.
Dae-ho took a swig of his drink, “I’m 24.” You gasped, “really? I’m 25, that makes me your elder.” You laughed, and Dae-ho blushed.
“Yeah, I guess that does.” He said, smiling as he ate another chip.
“So how old’s your sister? How crazy three kids really is depends on your age.” You laughed.
“She’s 28.” Dae-ho said, looking down.
“Wait, that means that all of you are less than a year apart! Your poor mother.” You laughed, only stopping when you noticed Dae-ho frowning. “Oh, I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to-” “No, no it’s fine.” He said, “my dad really wanted a boy. So my mom, just- just couldn’t stop until I was born.” He looked pained, and your heart broke for both him and his mother.
“Dae-ho, I’m sorry, that must’ve been really difficult for your mother.” You reached out for his hand. It twitched, but he kept it still. Everything in Dae-ho’s nature told him to pull away, but all he wanted was to be comforted by you as tears threatened to spill out of his eyes.
He sniffled, “yeah, it really was. She had health issues for years after I was born.” You squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry, we barely know each other, I shouldn’t be crying about all my problems to you.”
“Dae-ho, it’s alright. I’m not going to judge you. If it would make you feel better, I could talk about my problems too.” You said, trying to comfort him. “You- you really don’t have to do that.” He said, wiping his eyes with the back of his jacket. He had offered to let you wear it too, over your already thick winter coat, but you refused to take away his only source of warmth.
There was a pause between the two of you, where you decided if you wanted to share or not. Dae-ho didn’t want to force you to talk, so he opened his mouth, ready to fill the silence. 
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m a failure.” You whispered. “I moved to Seoul with stars in my eyes or whatever they say, and so far all I’ve accomplished is a shitty dead end job. There aren’t any entry level positions for my degree open anywhere, and I just feel like my life is a boring, endless cycle.” Tears dropped from your eyes onto your jeans, “I’m really scared. What if it stays this way forever. Just being the under-achiever and the pushover who isn’t capable of making anything happen. Not interesting enough to have anyone listen to what I say.” Dae-ho squeezed your hand, interrupting you for the first time, “hey, I’m here. I’m listening. I think you’re interesting enough.” You looked up at him, and he smiled. “Who you are is enough, and you aren’t an under-achiever, or a pushover. You’re not failing, the world’s just waiting for the right time to let you live your destiny.” You smiled back at him and laughed. “Hey Dae-ho?” “Yeah?” “Can I ask you something crazy?” He smiled, and in that moment you could’ve sworn he would’ve said yes to anything. “Sure.” “Can I kiss you?” 
He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t like all the kisses you’d seen in movies. Your tongues didn’t ‘battle for dominance,’ and you didn’t feel the burn of lust in your stomach. It felt- sweet. It felt safe. His lips were soft, and his hand was gently holding your cheek.
After a minute, he leaned back, and he blushed, “that was nice.”
You giggled as he wiped a tear off your cheek with his thumb, “yes, that was.” Right after your kiss the power came back on, “I guess it’s time to go home.”
Dae-ho picked up his trash and stood up, groaning loudly as he stretched. “Yeah, I guess it is.” You grabbed all of your things as slowly as you could, not wanting to leave Dae-ho’s side. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” Dae-ho said as you stood outside the store, locking it with your key. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” Dae-ho turned around, looking like a sad puppy. You watched him slowly walk a couple of feet. He undoubtedly had no idea what he was doing, but he still looked miserably pitiful. 
“Dae-ho?”
“Yes?” He turned around in a heartbeat, his big eyes pleading to you.
You sighed, “do you want to come and stay in my apartment? Since it’s so cold and you would have to wait for the subway?” 
“Yes!” Dae-ho’s whole face lit up, and he jogged towards you with a huge smile on his face. You giggled, he was such a goofball. 
You walked to your apartment slowly, due to the frigid cold. You almost slipped on ice several times. While Dae-ho was wearing heavy duty-combat boots that could grip the snow much better than your sneakers did, you still felt reassured in your decision to not let him walk home by himself. He caught you several times, and only almost slipped once, when he let out a very dramatic “ahhh,” when his left foot slipped for a half a second.
Giggling further, you felt bad when he looked at you with those big puppy eyes, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little bit funny.” You giggled.
He glanced away, his cheeks growing redder, “okay, it’s a little bit funny.” Your apartment was a lot warmer than outside. The hallways and stairwells weren’t heated, but at least there wasn’t the constant threat of ice and the temperature wasn’t in single digits.
You weren’t sure what to expect when you got inside your apartment. Dae-ho was a gentleman, but you weren’t sure how he would interpreta girl inviting him into her apartment in the middle of the night.
The second you unlocked your door, you both took off your shoes. “Ugh, that smells awful.” 
Dae-ho looked offended as he sat off the floor unlacing his other shoe. “It does not! So rude.” He apprehensively reached over to grab his boot, only to recoil in shock when he sniffed it, “Oh god. That is… That is just awful.”
You laughed heartily, your anxiety at least partially having gone away after you witnessed Dae-ho’s adorable reaction to his own shoes. He laughed too. 
Your apartment was tiny. A studio room with the bedroom and living room areas divided only by a curtain. The kitchen only consisted of a single stove top and a mini-fridge. Yet, Dae-ho didn’t look uncomfortable whatsoever. In fact, he made himself at home. Right after he took off his shoes he walked over to your couch and sat down. “This is a really comfortable couch!”
For some reason, that made your giggles turn into something a bit more serious. “Thank you.” It was a really nice couch, and your favorite thing in your apartment. When a neighbor from the first floor moved out, she asked if anyone wanted a couch that “wouldn’t fit with the aesthetic of her new house,” and you gladly took her up on her offer. You had tugged it up the stairs and into your apartment. It had taken hours, and nearly a couple of broken bones. But it was a very nice couch. It was softer than any couch you had ever sat on, and when you looked it up you saw that it cost 1500 dollars. A number you found completely shocking to spend on a couch. “It is a really nice couch.”
Dae-ho didn’t seem to notice you getting emotional, “woah, and it reclines too. This is so fancy. I feel like a king!” He pushed the buttons over and over again, reclining and un-reclining several times. 
He was entirely oblivious to your emotions, and you were glad. No one had ever commented on your fancy sofa. Not the few guys you had dated, not your friends, no one. But here he was, an incredibly attractive man, sitting on the couch that only he had noticed, giggling about a recline feature. His smile was infectious, and you didn’t want to bring him down. In fact, his smile made you start smiling too.
“Can I get you anything?” You said, bending over to look in your tiny fridge to see what you could grab for him. The fridge came with the apartment, and you didn’t see a reason to get a larger one. Especially since you lived so close to a store that sold almost everything you. Plus, you had an employee discount.
You turned around to see Dae-ho staring at you, and he blushed when you made eye-contact. “Just water is fine.” He muttered. You were confused for a second, just a moment ago he was acting like he lived here and now he was being shy?
Oh. Oh. You had bent over and he was staring at your ass, giving him quite a fine view. “Do you like the view?” You said teasingly.
“What? What view? Um yes.” He said flustered. You looked back at him, stifling a laugh, “I mean. No, no of course not. I- I would never.”
“Oh, so you don’t like the view of the skyline.” You gestured towards the window that was slightly visible past the half-drawn curtain separating the room into two.
“Oh! I love that view. Yes, of course.” He sat in silence for a moment, before finally understanding, “you’re messing with me, aren’t you.”
You giggled, walking over to him and handing him a glass of water. “Bingo.” As you sat down next to him on the couch the room grew quiet. You moved closer to one another unconsciously, and Dae-ho stopped when he was a few inches away from your face. You could feel his breath on your lips “(Y/n), can I kiss you. Again.”
You nodded, and he closed the distance between you. This kiss was just as good as the first, and entirely different. It was passionate, and his tongue explored your mouth. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to survive. You had never been that good at kissing, never finding it natural or comfortable. But with him, kissing was like breathing.
You and Dae-ho made out on the couch like teenagers for at least an hour. You stopped to make jokes, and talk about various things. But even after all that, you were still nervous. Although you really liked Dae-ho, you didn’t want to sleep with him right now. You weren’t even dating, and that was a boundary you didn’t feel like crossing until far deeper in the relationship.
You trusted Dae-ho, and knew that if you said no he wouldn’t push it, but you didn’t want to make things awkward. What if he left? What if he wasn’t interested any more? A lot of guys you had dated had been turned off by you not wanting to sleep with them. You couldn’t explain why you wanted to wait until you had been together longer. You weren’t opposed to sex before marriage, and you didn’t have any special desire to be a virginal bride. But that trust took a long time to build, and you hadn’t been in a relationship with someone you liked enough to date for longer than a few months. That was why it just hadn’t happened yet. A guy who got pissed you wouldn’t sleep with them was not someone you wanted to have sex with, and certainly not someone you wanted to marry, or really date for any longer than 30 seconds after they said that.
While you were taking a water break from cuddling on the couch, Dae-ho finally asked the dreaded question. “Do you want to sleep with me?” He sounded a little bit nervous and bashful, but knowing him he meant it. Dae-ho had a dislike for lying, something he had told you that stemmed from the trauma of not realizing that Santa Claus wasn’t real well into his teens.
Your whole body froze up. Another thousand questions ran through your head. What if he gets embarrassed and leaves? Or what if you were a complete idiot and he was like all those other guys. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to. It’s just I’ve been waiting until I’m in a long term relationship and I know we’re going to-” Dae-ho interrupts you, “Okay.”
Wait, what. “Okay?” 
He shrugged, taking a sip of water, “Okay. I don’t mind. I think we have a very important conversation about our favorite types of soup to get back to anyways.” You were flabbergasted. For some reason you hadn’t thought that anyone actually wouldn’t care. But here he was, not trying to push you any further. Not only was he not pushing about sex, but he wasn’t pressuring you into talking about your reasoning.
“Ye- yes. Yes we do.” 
You stayed up until the sun had almost risen, talking about if stew was only stew if it had meat in it, if Santa’s Sleigh could really fly, and other random things from your lives. 
Dae-ho finally started falling asleep, even though he was doing his best to hide it. After his eyes closed for far longer than the length of a blink, you giggled and put a stop to it. “Dae-ho, I’m really tired. Is it alright if we go to bed.”
Dae-ho’s eyes lit up. He clearly didn’t want to admit that he needed to sleep, so you gladly took that burden off his shoulders. “Yeah, sure, if you’re tired.” He kissed you gently on the forehead, and leaned back on the recliner, “goodnight (y/n).”
“Goodnight Dae-ho.”
In 30 seconds he was asleep.
You were wrong. It didn’t take a long time to build a deep level of trust with someone. Dae-ho said I love you on your third date, and you did on your fifth. You were living together in four months, and he proposed in six. You decided to wait until you got married to sleep with him. You wanted to feel completely and utterly whole on your wedding day, and having two moments that you considered important life events in one of the most important days of your life felt so perfect.
Dae-ho had slept with a couple of girls before, but he didn’t mind waiting at all. In fact, when you told him the reason you wanted to wait, he smiled a big smile and kissed you, “that is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said!”
Meeting his parents shortly after your engagement was the most difficult part of your relationship so far. His father was a quiet man. He sat cross legged on the low table you were sitting at, silently staring at you and Dae-ho while his mother brought out countless dishes one by one. You had met all of his sisters very early on in your relationship, so this was a dinner with just the four of you.
“So, I see you and Dae-ho are going to get married.” It was a statement of fact. You were quickly learning that Dae-ho’s father took everything seriously. 
“Yes sir.” Dae-ho addressed his father. You knew they had a very strained relationship. Dae-ho always felt overwhelmed by his father’s militaristic personality and masculine persona, but never confronted him about it to try and avoid dragging his mother into whatever argument would ensue.
However, you weren’t expecting him to call his father sir. The same title he called all his superiors in the army.
“You will have the wedding in the church down the street.” Again, no question. Dae-ho fidgeted on the floor, a tell-tale sign he was uncomfortable. You squeezed his hand.
“We were actually looking at a few venues. There was one in a botanical garden that Dae-ho was especially…” Your sentence trailed off. Both men stared at you intensely. Dae-ho’s father like he was offended you were speaking, and Dae-ho with an increasingly uncomfortable look.
It was his turn to squeeze your hand. “The church is really nice. We can get married there.” He said quietly. He didn’t want to get married in the church. He wanted to get married in the botanical garden. But you could tell this was not an issue he wanted to approach with his father, so you let it be.
You plastered on a fake smile, “church it is!”
His mother came into the living room, with a smile the exact same as Dae-ho’s on her face. “Alright, the food is ready!”
His father immediately started grabbing food, not hesitating for a moment. “This is too salty.” He said the moment he took a bite.
Her face fell, “oh, I’m sorry.”
You reached for the same dish he had rejected, and put some on your plate before taking a large bite. “Mm, this is delicious Mrs. Kang.”
Her face lit up, “thank you so much!” Dae-ho’s father scowled at her, and her smile depleted. “I appreciate you being kind about it.” 
Their family dynamics were playing out in front of your eyes. Dae-ho’s father was the boss. And everyone else had to obey him. The rest of the dinner played out in similar fashion, whenever anyone expressed an opinion differing from the family’s patriarch’s, it would get very quiet. Then, finally, he would start the conversation up again. You were the one who spoke ‘out of line’ the most. Dae-ho and his mother were far more practiced at deferring to him. After a delicious dinner, Dae-ho’s father stood up, “I think the men should go talk, the women can stay here and clean up.” Your stomach turned. You were liking this man less and less each time he opened his mouth.
Dae-ho was quiet, and followed his dad out of the room, into what you assumed was his dad’s ‘man cave.’
The second they left, his mother’s personality did a complete 180. A smile you hadn’t seen since she first entered the room spread across her face, and she asked a flurry of questions. “How old are you? Where are you from? How did you and my Dae-ho meet?” You quickly saw that Dae-ho took after his mother. Not only were they a splitting image of each other due to their enthusiastic smiles, but their bubbly personalities matched. You answered every question that she asked enthusiastically, and asked many of your own in return. As the conversation went on you finished packing away all the food and washing the dishes, and moved to sit at the table with a hot cup of tea that she had made from herbs in the garden.
She got quiet, and looked at you, “You know, my Dae-ho, he’s not like a lot of boys. He’s a marine, of course and he’s very strong, but…” She paused, taking a sip of her tea, “he’s soft. Not- not in a bad way, at least I don’t think so. But, he needs to be taken care of.’
“Not in the way I take care of my husband, with the chores and children,” she laughed, but it lacked enthusiasm , “But, more, in the way a man takes care of a woman.”
You knew exactly what she meant. You didn’t agree with the phrasing. It was clearly the mentality of the older generation, one that her father and husband likely drilled into her, but you understood. Dae-ho needed someone to treat him gently, the way he treated you. The way couples were supposed to treat each other. 
She was saying that he was not like her husband, and that your relationship should not be like hers.
You reached for her hand and squeezed it, “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of eachother.”
She smiled, and then the men came back in. Dae-ho’s father was acting like his usual self, and Dae-ho looked even more uncomfortable than he did before, if that was possible.
His father slapped him on the back, and said “we’ll do this again.”
You turned back to his mother, and you saw that a little bit of her spark had left when her husband came back into the room. You left quickly, without lingering in the apartment, and walked into the warm air of the summer night.
Dae-ho was quiet as you walked to your car. Once he stepped into the driver's seat (something you didn’t expect as you usually drove), he slumped over. 
“Dae-ho, what’s wrong? Did your father say something to you?” You rubbed your hand over his back and felt his shoulders shake.
He sat up, and you could see tears running down his face, “I’m not going to be like him. I swear to you. You and our children will never have the same life as me and my mother.”
His face was red, and he was wetting his t-shirt with tears that had already dripped off his face, “Dae-ho, what happened?” 
You reached towards his face and ran your thumb on his cheek, doing your best to wipe away his tears. He reached his hand up and gently held your wrist, not moving your hand away from his face.
“He- he told me I needed to learn how to be the man in the relationship. That I was weak, and that I- I-” You wiped away another tear, “I needed to put you in your place.”
Your heart broke. You had ideas of what had happened in Dae-ho’s childhood. Scars that you knew didn’t come from the Marines. Times when he took a long time in the shower, where you could hear cries just barely over the sound of the water. 
He reached up and gently held onto your face, staring in your eyes as he cried “I swear to you, I will always keep you safe. We are going to be happy, and I will never let anyone hurt you or the family we’re going to have. I promise”
You nodded, and stroked his cheek again, “I know Dae-ho, you are nothing like him.”
He leaned in and kissed you, lightly, as tears streamed out of his eyes.
You got married in the church, on a cold day almost exactly a year from when you got trapped in the store in a snowstorm. Your wedding was huge, and while it wasn’t exactly what you had wanted, it was still a wonderful day. Although more than half the guests were his father’s friends and colleagues, more than enough of your friends came to celebrate the both of you.
During your engagement you had planned more than just a wedding, you planned out the next 10 or so years. You had been an obsessive planner since you were younger. It relieved your anxiety to have a path to walk on. If you saved for the next year and a half you could afford a small house on the outskirts of Seoul, it was in a military housing neighborhood for Veterans and active duty service members who had served 10 or more years. Dae-ho entered the military when he was 18, so he only had three years left until his second five-year contract expired, when he would be discharged.
After you moved into your house you would start trying to have a baby. You spent long nights talking to each other about your future. When you first seriously talked about kids Dae-ho’s whole face lit up.
“You really want to have kids. Little babies that are half you and half me.” You were laying on your back on the bed, with your head slightly propped up by a pillow, and Dae-ho was laying on his stomach, resting his head on your chest between your boobs.
“Yes Dae-ho, I thought we had already talked about this!” You giggled, twirling a short piece of hair around your finger. He grew his hair out a little bit, it was still short, but it wasn’t buzzed anymore. “Of course I want to have kids with you.”
“I just thought- I kind of thought that you weren’t sure, and were just agreeing to make me happy.” He said quietly into your chest.
“Dae-ho, that’s crazy. You know I wouldn’t lie to you, especially about something as important as that.” 
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I think I just pushed the anxiety of the thought that you were lying deep down so I didn’t have to deal with it. I was just scared. Because of…” He took a deep breath against your t-shirt, breathing in your smell to comfort himself, “after you met my dad I was scared you wouldn’t want to have kids with me. I know- I know you said I was nothing like him, but I was still nervous.”
You ran your fingers through his hair and gently tilted his head back to make eye contact, “Dae-ho, I need you to listen to me. I want to have a family with you, because I love you. When I look at you I don’t see your father’s son, I see you. I see Kang Dae-ho, the man I love, the man I choose to be with because I know how kind and gentle and loving he is.”
Dae-ho smiled, and a tear tracked down his cheek. You whispered, “so, of course I want to have a bunch of mini-yous running around.”
You hadn’t decided how many kids you wanted, knowing that no matter what you decided on now would likely change once you had a couple of little ones running around. You decided to have at least two, a boy and a girl. Even though you knew the genders weren’t something you could control at all.
Your wedding day was fantastic. Although his father only smiled when there was a camera in his face, and two of Dae-ho’s sisters’ kids threw up, it was wonderful.
And your wedding night was exactly what you had been dreaming about too. Dae-ho was kind, and soft, and gentle. You had still been scared, so much pressure was put on the moment to be perfect. And, it  was as close to perfect as it could be. It was romantic, and you felt closer to another human being than you had ever before. 
There were several bouts of laughter whenever Dae-ho would make a joke to relieve the tension. Dae-ho started crying at one point, and it made you cry too. There was so much love in this moment that it overflowed and formed tears from the both of you.
You had almost saved up enough money to buy a house when Dae-ho got a call. It had taken you longer than you had expected to save up money. You were desperately looking for a job in your field, and while you were looking you got fired from the convenience store. Your boss’ son had gotten to the age where he started working, and they needed to save money. Although you weren’t happy about it, there was nothing you could do.
After spending a month applying to any and every position you could find, nothing worked out. So, you had to go back to working at another small corner store, unfortunately, this time with less pay. It had been two years since your wedding, when Dae-ho came home excited. He was going on a trip to the countryside with his company, helping train new conscripts.
He left the next week, kissing your forehead before rushing out the door. You giggled, he acted like he was going on vacation, instead of going to a work event.
The first half of the week was normal. Dae-ho called every evening, and he dropped his voice several octaves each time. You could tell that members of his squad were always around him whenever talked louder and acted more macho on the phone.
It was late on Thursday night when you heard someone knocking at your door. You were confused as to what it could be, maybe one of your neighbors needed help with something? 
You looked through the peephole, surprised to see a man standing in a formal military uniform in the hallway. You opened it quickly, not bothering to fix your disheveled appearance.
“Are you Mrs. Kang?”
You rubbed your eyes with your hand, confused. “Yes. What is it?” “I’m here to inform you there’s been an incident involving your husband. We’ll need you to come with us.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, “what incident? What happened?” Dae-ho was at a training camp. He was supposed to be safe. What was happening.
“There was a shooting incident at the base, he is injured, but in stable condition. We will take you to the hospital as soon as possible. It’s best for him to have a family member with him at this time.”
“Okay, let me go change really quick.” You paused, looking up at the soldier, “Do you want to come in?” He shook his head, “No thank you ma’am.” You were still in shock. You weren’t fully conscious of what your body was doing as you changed and grabbed the necessities, a toothbrush, change of clothes, and all of you and Dae-ho’s medical information.
The car ride to the airport felt fuzzy, the soldier sitting next to you not saying anything as another man drove. The airplane was more surreal. You didn’t fly very often, travelling outside of Korea was a luxury you couldn’t afford. And whenever you travelled within Korea the train’s cheaper price point far outweighed the longer time it took to travel.
It started to sink in that something very bad had happened to your husband, and the thought itself felt like your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip.
The world still felt blurry until you finally arrived at the hospital. There was a vivid sunrise in the sky over the hospital, and you could hear birds singing.
The haze only completely stopped when you were guided to his hall, and a doctor approached you. “Hello, are you Mr. Kang Dae-ho’s wife.”
“Yes, yes I am.” You snapped into focus, a complete 180 from the past couple of hours. “Your husband is alright. There was a shooting on the base and in the chaos your husband was pushed down the stairs and fell onto a table.”
You let out a sigh of relief. In the back of your mind there had been a fear that your husband was critically injured, even though the soldier had informed you that he was stable. “He received injuries to his leg, back, and groin area. We don’t perceive any long term damage, however we will be monitoring him for the next couple of days.” “Can I see my husband?” The doctor had said all you needed him to say. Whatever else happened, the only person you wanted to hear it from was Dae-ho. You needed to be there by his side, to take care of him the way you had promised his mother you would.
“Yes, of course.”
The doctor led you down the hall, and opened Dae-ho’s door. He was awake and staring out the window from his hospital bed.
“Dae-ho!” You rushed towards him.
The look on his face confused you. He almost looked guilty. “What’s wrong?”
He chuckled, the laugh sounding forced, “I fell down the stairs, I’m gonna look a little weird for a while.” He smiled at you, but you didn’t believe it’s genuinity for a second. 
You backed away from him to close the door, and then walked back to sit at his bedside. “Dae-ho, please don’t lie to me. Tell me what happened.” He looked away, and sniffled, wiping his hand under his nose to brush over it, “it’s nothing, really.”
You grabbed the other hand and squeezed it, “okay. Then tell me what it is about this ‘nothing’ that’s making you upset. I promise, no matter what it is, I’ll be here for you.”
He got quiet, and whispered, “I couldn’t help.” He sniffled again. “I woke up to the sound of gunshots, and I was running towards them. For once in my life I wasn’t being a coward. But when I reached the stairs to help, someone brushed my arm, and I fell. The person ran past me and out the door, away from the gunshots. I- I couldn’t do anything.”
You squeezed his hand again, “it was dark, and all I could hear was the sounds of bullets. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything. I thought they would come and shoot me. The one time I try to do something right, the one time I try to be a real man, I fail. I failed those people, and all I could think was that I was going to die. I wanted to run, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t move. My legs would probably work, but I was just too scared. I’m a coward”
He was crying, tears ran down his face, “Dae-ho, that wasn’t your fault. You were scared, you did what anyone else in your situation would do, no matter who they are.” You reached forward, and wiped some of the tears off his cheek.
“In the dark, I feel- I feel the same way I did. When they closed the curtains earlier today to let me sleep I was terrified. I heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and I wanted to run. And then the shame for wanting to run came. But I was scared. I couldn’t make myself sleep. I was so scared (y/n), I’m so sorry, I was scared, I was sca-”
You interrupted him, “Dae-ho, please don’t do this to yourself.”
He sighed, “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
You leaned in, and laid on his chest the way he usually lays on you, “Dae-ho, please don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll tell you what, I’ll lay right here, and I’ll wake you up if I need any help. I promise you, nothing bad will happen while you sleep. ”
He nodded, even though you could still hear sniffling. It took him longer than usual to get to sleep. Usually within a minute it was lights out, but you could still hear the sound of quiet sobs for at least half an hour after you rested on his chest. You didn’t say anything, you knew that all he needed right now was presence, and to rest.
The next year was difficult. You decided to place your plans on hold to help Dae-ho heal. Nights were especially hard, you would wrap yourselves around one another for comfort. Dae-ho got quieter, and it was hard for him to be out in public. Everything was too loud. 
You realized very quickly that the two things he found most difficult were the dark, and loud noises. After his company briefly tried to put him back into the position he had before, they discovered that he was incapable of doing it. The first time there was a shooting drill Dae-ho panicked and ran away. They found him in a closet crying. He had come home guilty, and you held him as he cried because of the fear and shame that you couldn’t take away no matter how hard you tried
His superiors switched him to a desk job. Although Dae-ho felt ashamed, you had to admit that it suited him better. 
You moved into your new house after Dae-ho was officially discharged. He got a job at a small office run by another Marine veteran, and his hiring bonus was just enough for the down payment.
Although a lot of things had gone wrong in the last year, you settled into a life of normalcy. You got a job working for a fruit vendor at a local market, and were able to walk to and from work every day. The pay was just as terrible as before, but the hours allowed both you and Dae-ho to be home by 5 every day.
“Honey, I’m home!” Dae-ho said in English. ever since you had watched several 90s sitcoms, Dae-ho became obsessed with the cheesy line and said it every time he came home from work.
“I’m in the kitchen!” You called out, stirring a pot of soup you had made.
“Wow, it smells fantastic.” He said, walking up to you and kissing your cheek as he looked down at the pot. “You really didn’t have to do this, I know you must be exhausted.”
“I know, I just thought we should have an extra nice meal tonight.” Dae-ho raised an eyebrow, “why tonight specifically?”
You looked down at your feet, nervous, “well, I was thinking…” You looked back up at him, “I think it’s time to start trying for a baby.”
There was silence in the room for a moment. You knew Dae-ho wanted kids, but growing anxiety brewed in your stomach that maybe he wasn’t ready, or maybe the incident had changed his mind.
All that doubt was squashed when Dae-ho’s face erupted into the largest smile you had ever seen. He picked you up in both of his arms and started shouting “Yes, yes, yes! I’ve been waiting for this!”
He peppered kisses all over your face, and laughed heartily, “what do you mean you’ve been waiting for me?” You giggled, realizing that there wasn’t a hesitant bone in his body.
“Well, I mean that it’s your body. I didn’t want to pressure you. I figured that you would ask when you were ready.” The sentiment warmed your heart, and even though you didn’t think it was possible, made you even more sure you wanted this man to be the father of your child.
You kissed his forehead, “that might have been the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.” Dae-ho kissed you on the lips, and started walking towards the bedroom with you still in his arms. “Dae-ho! My soup.”
He pouted, but put you down. “After dinner.” You said, giggling.
“After a delicious dinner, I’ll have an even tastier treat.” You laughed, hitting him on the arm.
“Dae-ho, your mind is so dirty!” He laughed in response.
Your dinner was as delicious as you knew it would be, and your night was even better.
Planning was your strong suit. You had researched everything that would increase your chances at having a baby. You knew what you could, and couldn’t afford. Your budget fit raising kids, but there was no way you could afford IVF or any expensive medication anytime soon. You got a bunch of vitamins for the both of you, strictly tracked your ovulation cycle, and made a list of things you and Dae-ho couldn’t do to increase your chances of conceiving. No drinking, no eating certain foods, and an hour of exercise every day. You begrudged the lists. You only did all the things to increase your chances, but Dae-ho did everything enthusiastically. He was excited to take all the vitamins and eat all the special foods, and go on the nightly runs you had decided to do together after dinner. To him, it was another part of the exciting process of having a baby. To you, it was the torture you had to endure to get the greatest reward.
A lot of couples got pregnant quickly after trying. The year anniversary of the day you started trying, you started to get nervous. A year was abnormal
“Dae-ho, do you think something is wrong?” You asked him as you laid in bed one night.
“No, these things happen. It just takes longer for some people than others.” He kissed your shoulder as you spooned, and quickly went back to sleep. You stayed up longer, fearful about the possibility that something could be wrong.
A year and a half is when Dae-ho started to get anxious too. He did his best to hide it from you, but there were moments where you could feel his worry lingering in the air. Dae-ho’s sleep had gotten better. He would have nightmares, but he never had any trouble falling asleep. That changed when he started to worry about why you weren’t pregnant yet. He would hold you tight to his chest in the middle of the night, and you could hear his steady breathing for a much longer time than usual while you tried to fall asleep.
After two years, you made an appointment with a fertility doctor. It was expensive, so you wanted to postpone spending a lot of money on doctors as long as possible, but it became unavoidable. Whenever you had dinner with Dae-ho’s family you would both stare sadly at all of the nieces and nephews running around. 
Both of his parents would poke and prod and ask you when you were having kids. His mother in a kind, empathetic way, asking you dozens of probing details in her excitement of being a grandma again. As soon as you started trying for a baby, Dae-ho called her. He was giddy and excited on the phone, and they were both deeply enthusiastic. 
His father was different, and he got worse the longer it had been since you had started trying. He blamed Dae-ho for the fact that you didn’t have kids yet. He would always demand to know if you were pregnant yet. And Dae-ho would be forced to say that no, you weren’t. He would then call Dae-ho weak and tell him that he needed to “do better,” even though you being pregnant or not wasn’t something either of you had any control over once you had started doing everything you needed to to increase your chances..
But the biggest reason for you going to the fertility doctor, was that you both just really wanted to have kids. You would rub your belly absentmindedly during the day, and Dae-ho would quickly glance away each time you caught him looking. Your house was the same as it always had been, but with each negative pregnancy test it felt emptier. Quiet with the lack of pitter-patters from children’s little feet on the wooden floors.
You made an appointment early in the morning on Monday, before either of your shifts started. Dae-ho rested his hand on your thigh as you sat in the waiting room, his knee bouncing up and down at a rapid pace. “Dae-ho, it’s going to be okay.” You said, trying to convince yourself as well.
He smiled back at you, but you could see that you both had the same anxiety, “I know.”
They called your name, and you went into a middle-aged doctor’s office. “Hello, my name is Dr. Kim. Can I get a complete history from both of you.”
She had your medical files in front of her, and asked a dozen other questions to fill in any gaps. How often you had sex, what vitamins you were taking, what your diet was. 
“Well, you’re doing what you're supposed to, the next step is to do some tests to see if there are any medical reasons you haven’t successfully conceived yet.” She confirmed what you already knew, you were doing everything right. In the back of your mind you had hoped that you had missed something. You were taking the wrong vitamins, or eating the wrong foods. “And how long have you said you’ve been trying to get pregnant?” “Two years.” You said quietly.
She continued to tap on her keyboard, “it is possible that you’ve just been unlucky, and that there is nothing unusual medically. However, two years of trying without conceiving is abnormal, so these tests will be necessary to give us a comprehensive view of any factors contributing to your unsuccessful attempts at conception.’
“Mr. Kang, we will need you to give a sperm sample. A sperm sample is the only test needed to rule out male infertility. Mrs. Kang, there are several tests we need to do to see if there is anything on your part preventing you from getting pregnant. Today we will get a blood sample, and schedule other tests today for later if neither of your results have any abnormalities.”
You nodded. The entire situation was deeply uncomfortable. You didn’t want this to be part of your journey to parenthood, you wanted to be like everyone else. Romantic, and in a warmly lit bedroom instead of in a white doctor’s office. 
“What do I need to do for a sperm sample?” 
The doctor looked slightly confused, “well, we have a special room with some… material… to help you ejaculate into a cup. Then we send the sample to our lab to run tests, like sperm count and sperm quality.”
Dae-ho tilted his head like a confused puppy, “what do you mean by material?”
She looked incredibly uncomfortable, but you could tell that Dae-ho was truly confused and not trying to put the doctor in an awkward position. You grasped his arm, “she means porn, Honey.”
Dae-ho’s jaw dropped and he shook his head “Oh no, I don’t need any porn, I have my wife.”
The doctor quickly interjected, “sir, your wife cannot come with you.”
Dae-ho blushed, “oh yeah, of course sorry.”
The whole situation was almost amusing. The doctor’s panicked face and Dae-ho’s embarrassed expression. But you didn’t have the energy to find it funny, you were too scared. 
Dae-ho left for his tests, but stopped to kiss you before he left. “Goodluck, I love you.” You smiled, “You’ve got this Dae-ho, I love you too.”
The week after your doctor’s appointment was normal . You went to work, came home, then ate dinner together and fell asleep in bed next to one another. But there was anxiety under the surface. There were more silent pauses where both of you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to say anything, and you both stayed awake long after you turned off the lights in bed. Dae-ho slept with his hand on your stomach, and his hand was clammy with the same fear you were feeling.
You got a call on Friday afternoon, “Mr. and Mrs. Kang, could we schedule a meeting next week to go over your test results?” “Yes, the doctor said we should schedule some more tests, can I do that now?”
There was a pause on the other line, “Dr. Kim doesn’t think that is necessary at this time.”
Your heart dropped. They had found something wrong. You knew it. That was the only reason they didn’t need to test anything else. They had already found the problem.
Dae-ho came home half an hour later, and you were laying in bed on your side with the curtains drawn, crying. “Honey, I’m home!”
You couldn’t call out to him. You knew the statistics, it was almost always the woman’s. You were too ashamed to face him, knowing that you were the reason you and Dae-ho couldn’t have the one thing you wanted more than anything else in the world- a family.
 “(Y/n)! Where are you?”
Dae-ho rushed through your small house, desperately looking for you everywhere. You heard the footsteps stop when he reached the bedroom. He was standing in the doorway when he saw your figure laying in bed. “(Y/n), what’s wrong.” He quietly approached you, walking around the bed to kneel down in front of you, reaching up to gently wipe your tears away. 
“I- I got a call from the doctor. They got the results back and wanted to set up an appointment.” His face looked concerned, but he stayed quiet as he waited for you to continue, “I think- I think somethings wrong with me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I failed you.”
The tears started to come stronger. You felt like you couldn’t do anything right. You couldn’t get a job, couldn’t fix your husband’s trauma, and now you couldn’t do the thing you were made for as a woman.
“(Y/n), look at me,” he stroked your hair out of your eyes, “this is not your fault. We don’t know yet, and even if there is something about your body that makes it hard to have a baby, it isn’t your fault. It’s not something you have any control over. It’ll be okay, I promise. I love you.”
He kissed you gently on your forehead. You could tell that he was also hurt by the reality that there was likely something stopping you from being able to get pregnant, but instead he focused on you. It was so sweet, and so very Dae-ho.
He made you dinner, and you ate in bed before going to sleep with your arms wrapped around one another.
Your appointment was at the same time as the one last week. You were glad they could fit you in so early, as the anticipation was killing you. You nervously entered into Dr. Kim’s office, where she was sitting with papers in front of her that you could only assume were test results. 
There was no beating around the bush. Once you sat down, Dr. Kim began to talk. “I’m glad that you were available so soon. I have looked over both of your results.”
You and Dae-ho squeezed each other's hands, hoping and praying for good news.
“Mrs. Kang, I have looked over your results and I’ve found nothing abnormal with your bloodwork.” You let out a sigh of relief.
She turned to look at Dae-ho, “I looked over your past medical history, Mr. Kang, and I noticed that 3 years ago you sustained an injury to your groin while you were in the military.” You Dae-ho’s hand gripped yours tighter, and your breath sped up. “Your sperm count was very low, and I believe that your past injury may have caused or contributed to that.”
You listened intently to the doctor, but Dae-ho was completely unaware of anything else she was saying. He was solely focusing on how it was his fault, and that he was the reason your dreams couldn’t come true.
“Of course we’ll need to do some testing, but this is the most likely conclusion considering that you have had a normal sex life and no other symptoms. I’ll write a referral to the urologist, and I suggest you go in for a consultation.” She wrote on a slip of a paper, and handed you a physical copy of the referral.
“Thank you, Dr. Kim.” You didn’t know what else to say. Dae-ho wasn’t responding, he was staring off into the distance, and you had to lead him out of the room.
Before you exited the room, Dr. Kim spoke up, “Mr and Mrs Kang?”
Dae-ho stayed facing forward, but you turned to face the doctor, “I truly am sorry, and I wish you the best.”
You nodded, and left, leading Dae-ho out beside you. Dae-ho didn’t respond during the ride home. You didn’t talk to him. Nothing you could say would make him feel better, you just needed to get home and then maybe you would be able to comfort each other.
Dae-ho walked to the bathroom as soon as you got home. You didn’t stop him, and sat down on the couch staring into space.
You heard crashing from the bathroom, and ran in to see Dae-ho throwing the vitamin bottles on the ground. “It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit!” 
The next bottle he threw down was glass, and it shattered into a million little pieces on the ground, “Dae-ho, stop!” You grabbed his arm to stop him from throwing another bottle. That seemed to snap him out of his daze. 
He started crying, and you pulled his head down to nuzzle into your chest. You wrapped your arms around him, and started stroking his back. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.” You quietly shushed him, and ran your fingers through his hair. “Shh, Shh, it’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” he sobbed, “I was the one who couldn’t do anything, I’m a fucking marine and I got pushed down the stairs and laid there like a coward. I’m the one whose fault it is that we can't have a baby.”
“Dae-ho, we don’t know anything for sure. We’ll go to the urologist and see if they can help us.” You gently pulled his head back to look into his eyes, the same way he did when you thought it was your body causing your infertility, “but even if we can’t have kids, I want you to know that this isn’t on you. Everything you said to me, about how it isn’t my fault and how no matter what it’ll be okay, is true.”
The sad look in his eyes showed that he didn’t believe you. You sighed, “let’s get out of here, you should go lay in bed and I’ll make us something to eat. Be careful when you step, I’ll clean up the glass in a second.” Dae-ho pulled away, “no, I failed as a father, I will not fail as a husband. I’ll take care of it.” You grabbed his shoulders when he tried to move away, “listen to me. The only difference between us is the name “husband” versus the name “wife.” Our job is to take care of each other. When I need you, you take care of me. And now, it’s my turn to return the favor.”
He nodded apprehensively. You could tell that he had some hold-ups, but he didn’t argue with you. You both knew this about your marriage, but everything his father had told him was hard to deprogram.
You made a stew, and cleaned up the glass while it was simmering. Before you entered your bedroom, you heard Dae-ho talking. You stopped outside the door.
“I promise you, it will all be okay. Your daddy is going to make sure you will get to see this whole beautiful world.” Concerned, you opened the door. Dae-ho was sitting in the bed holding a onesie that his mother had given him after you told her you had started trying.
“Hey.” You said, walking towards him and handing him the bowl.
“Hey.”
He ate a spoonful of the soup and then took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry that I messed up our plans.”
“Dae-ho-” You interrupted, but he held up his hand to signify that he wanted to finish his thought.
“I know you don’t blame me. But I can’t help the way I feel. I know- I know everything you’re going to say and everything you’re thinking, and I’m sorry but I- I just can’t believe you right now. I’ll only be able to when we have everything figured out. I’m sorry, that's just- that’s just what I need.”
Your heart broke, but you knew his words to be true. There was nothing you could say to change how he felt. “Okay. But if you know what I’m thinking, then you know that I mean it when I tell you that everything is going to be alright. I promise you I would never lie to you Dae-ho.”
He smiled at you, with tears still glimmering in his eyes, “okay, I believe you.”
Dae-ho scheduled an appointment in the afternoon later in the week. It was in the middle of the work day, but it was either that or waiting over a month. “I’ll take off work to go with you.”
“(Y/n), it’s fine. I promise.” 
You objected again, talking with your mouthful as you ate a bite of oatmeal, “Dae-ho really, it’s okay.”
He paused, and looked at you, “to be honest, I want to do this by myself. I just- I don’t think I can take it if there’s something seriously wrong and you’re there. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I got bad news and had to look at you, I think it would kill me.”
You were silent, “okay, but if you need me, please, please just call.”
He reached over and squeezed your hand, “of course. You trust me, right?”
You squeezed his hand back, completely sure of what you were about to say, “always.”
Dae-ho didn’t call you during the day, but you called him several times. You were beginning to get worried, and told your boss that you had to leave early. She understood, and the second she said you could go, you ran towards your house.
You weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe an empty house, maybe an emptied liquor cabinet if there was bad news. What you weren’t expecting was for Dae-ho to be sitting cross legged on the ground in front of your table, with papers completely covering the wood.
“Dae-ho what’s going on? I was terrified!” You plunked your bag down on the ground.
He looked up at you, surprised to see you, “(Y/n), what’re you doing home?” “I’m only home an hour early. Did you not see my calls? I’ve been trying to reach you all day!” You said, exasperated but relieved to see he was okay.
He reached down to look at his phone, and then looked back up at you guiltily. He said quietly, “oh, sorry. I’ve been so focused I didn’t realize.”
You sat down next to him, looking over the papers to try and make sense of what they were.
Before you could understand, he grabbed your shoulders to turn you to face him. “I did all the tests, and- and it’s a lot of news.” You were concerned, he didn’t usually react like when he found out important things. And he certainly didn’t react like after your last visit to the fertility doctor. “They can fix it. We can have a baby!” 
Your eyes lit up, and without realizing it happy tears began to leak out of your eyes. Before you could fully celebrate you had to stop yourself. “But then, what is this?”
“It’s expensive, it’s really expensive. But I- I did all the math and I think- I think we can do it.”
There were so many emotions swirling around in your head. Fear of the cost, fear of the future, but Dae-ho brought you back down to earth. “I know, I know. But (Y/n), it’ll be okay.” 
You believed him, you would always believe him.
He smiled a big smile you hadn’t seen in a long smile, and he quickly pulled you into a hug. He pressed kisses all over your head, and finally, finally you allowed yourself to feel completely hopeful again.
You did another set of tests to make sure that you didn’t have any conditions yourself that would affect your fertility. Sure enough, all of your results came back squeaky clean.
Dae-ho’s treatment was going to cost a lot. The initial appointments you two had scheduled had cost over a thousand dollars.
Dae-ho’s surgery was over 10 thousand dollars. Your mortgage was high, and since it was still the early years of owning your house you wanted to pay as much as possible before interest tripled the original cost of your house. The conclusion that you reached was that you could afford the surgery in two years. 
It was a bittersweet feeling, on one hand you were heartbroken that you had to wait longer, but a finish line made the pain easier. Finally, there was certainty. You circled the day when you would schedule the surgery for, and every morning you would look at the calendar to remind yourself what you were working so hard for.
Your house didn’t feel so empty anymore. The silence was still hard to deal with sometimes, but you and Dae-ho busied yourselves with buying baby clothes, and picking out things for the nursery. Both of you were happier, even though you could tell that Dae-ho still had a lingering guilt because of his condition.
In the week before the surgery you felt yourself buzzing with excitement. It felt like you were walking on air. Dae-ho was so enthusiastic that every day when he came home he would run to you, swoop you up in his arms and laugh as he kissed your face. It became the highlight of your day.
Most of the time people were nervous on the morning of a surgery. But not you and Dae-ho. The drive to the clinic was filled with laughter and loud music. Everything was finally going according to plan.
Right before Dae-ho went into surgery pulled you into a hug and whispered into your ear, “this is it, the rest of our life starts now.” 
You squeezed him in the hug and smiled, and he waved goodbye as he walked into the room where he would get prepped for surgery. The longer he was in the operating room, the more nervous you got. You knew that the surgery would probably take an hour or an hour and a half, but as the time approached and passed that mark your anxiety grew. Finally, after two hours, the doctor came back.
You stood up excitedly, ready to hear the good news.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Kang, the damage was more extensive than we initially thought. We weren’t able to perform the surgery.” Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t handle this. You had kept it in for so long, had done everything right, had waited patiently only to have it end with even more bad news. 
You couldn’t stop yourself. You ran over to the trash can and threw up your breakfast, overwhelmed with the grief of your hopes and dreams yet again being crushed.
Sitting in the waiting room, you felt broken. Your cheeks were wet and all you could do was stare straight ahead as you waited for them to bring Dae-ho out of surgery. It was an outpatient surgery, which meant that he would go home after. You were glad at first, because it would save money, but now you were dreading having to go back to the empty house together. You didn’t want him to see your pain and think for even a second that you blamed him.
Dae-ho was wheeled out, and you felt another piece of your heart break off when you saw the look on his face. “Dae-ho.”
He looked up at you with his big puppy-dog eyes, “Let’s go home. Can we please just go home.”
You were growing accustomed to heartbroken silent drives. Dae-ho made to leave the car when you got home, but you locked the door. You couldn’t deal with either of you having a breakdown once you were inside your house.
“Can we talk, please?” You begged.
“I’m sorry. I just- I had so much hope that this nightmare would be over, but it just keeps going.”
You looked over at him. “It’s not over. We’re not done. Please don’t give up. Please. It’ll be okay, I promise.” You pleaded.
Dae-ho finally looked back over to you, “okay. Okay.” He took a deep shaky breath, “we’ll keep trying. The Kangs aren’t quitters.” He said with a light chuckle, bringing a smile to your face.
The next week you went back to your doctor. “Unfortunately it looks like our only alternative is to do sperm removal followed by IVF.” He paused, looking at a list of personal information, “your financial situation would make this procedure very difficult, I hate to say this, but have you considered adoption?” Your heartbeat spiked, “yes, my husband is a Marine Corps veteran diagnosed with PTSD, we aren’t considered candidates.” You had been through all of this years ago. Early on you had looked into adoption. Before you had even tried to get pregnant naturally. Both you and Dae-ho wanted to help a child without a home and add them to your little family of Kangs. You were shocked to find out that because of Dae-ho’s PTSD you couldn’t adopt. He had nightmares and was afraid of loud noises and the dark, but there was nothing about his PTSD that would make him a bad father. But, for some reason a little note on his discharge papers crossed out one of your options.
“Okay, well the procedure will be expensive, but IVF for healthy women under the age of 35 has an over 50% success rate.”
Once you got home Dae-ho pulled you into a hug the second you crossed the threshold. “We’ll make this happen, I promise you.”
You burrowed your head into his chest and mumbled, “I know, I know. I believe you.”
And so the cycle started again. It was another two years before you saved up enough money.
You both had surgery on the same day, and watched with delight as the doctor showed you the embryos after they had medically joined your egg and Dae-ho’s sperm. Tears streamed down your face as you saw what would become your baby on the screen. You never knew you could feel so attached to a couple of small dots, but here you were. The doctor gave you a print out, something they didn’t usually do but Dae-ho begged for, and went home. Your appointment was scheduled for the next week, it was the happiest week you had in years. You and Dae-ho went on long walks every night, you got dinner with his sisters and your friends. It was fantastic, and the night before the implantation you stayed up late and talked about baby names for hours.
Everything finally went to plan. The implantation went smoothly, and three weeks later when you and Dae-ho were sitting in the bathroom together, there were so many emotions buzzing in the air it felt electric.
“I’m going to turn it over.”
“Okay.” Dae-ho was pressing his hands together and praying, something he almost never did.
You screamed, “oh my God!” 
Dae-ho jumped up and grabbed the stick out of your hand. A pink plus sign. 
Dae-ho shouted out in joy and wrapped his arms around you and started jumping up and down. Dae-ho then paused and sunk down to his knees, pressing his head against your belly.
You stilled as he pulled your shirt up and put his forehead against your stomach. You could feel wet tears on your belly. “Hello baby.” He whispered, “this is your daddy, me and your mommy love you so much and we are going to take such good care of you, I promise.”
Your heart felt full. Finally, you and your husband had a family. You were a mother, and Dae-ho was a father. The next six months were the happiest of your life. Dae-ho completely assimilated into his role as a father. He painted your baby’s room a pale yellow, and him and his mother picked out more baby clothes than your child could possibly wear.
He had a copy of every ultrasound photo in his wallet, in chronological order. There were so many of them that the wallet started to bulge with all the extra paper.
You were just as ecstatic as him. When you and Dae-ho were cuddling, he would reach around from his spot as the big spoon to rest his hand on your belly. You would draw circles next to it, and whisper to your baby, “it’s your mom. You know, before you and your dad were in my life I felt lost. And now, I’m happy about every step I’ve taken. It led me right here. Thank you little baby, mom loves you.” It was too early in your pregnancy for the baby to hear you, so you giggled to yourself before drifting off to sleep.
The only time you had ever seen Dae-ho’s father proud was when Dae-ho excitedly shouted, “we’re pregnant!” Three minutes after entering their house, unable to hold in his excitement for a moment longer. 
Although you did hear his dad mutter “took you long enough” under his breath, his mother’s unapologetic excitement made up for it. Before you knew it you had five knitted baby hats and five knitted baby socks in the top drawer of your dresser.
Dae-ho would excitedly shout “we’re pregnant!” Whenever anyone would so much as glance at your baby bump. Most of the time it annoyed you to no end when fathers would say, “we’re pregnant,” while their wives were the only ones actually doing any work. But in Dae-ho’s case you think he earned it. He did all of the chores, prepared dinner for the next day the night before, and treated you like a queen. Besides, he looked so cute every time he said it.
Your pregnancy was easier than you could have ever imagined, even in your wildest dreams. You had no morning sickness, very little fatigue, and your baby hit all of their milestones early. You decided not to figure out if it was a boy or girl until they were born, and so your baby was affectionately nicknamed “little Dae” during your pregnancy.
Truly, you had never been happier.
Dae-ho came home with take-out at the usual time. You liked to eat healthy, but it was Friday night and you agreed to have a little treat at the start of every weekend.
“Honey, I’m home!” Dae-ho called out. No response.
“(Y/n), where are you?” You had to be at home, either you or your boss would have called him if you had to stay late.
He walked through the house, finally stopping in front of the bathroom door. Dae-ho shakily opened it, and upon seeing the scene inside, immediately rushed to you.
You were laying on the floor of the bathroom, unconscious and surrounded by blood. He rushed into action, he had run scenarios of every possible nightmare scenario that could happen the second you got pregnant but it didn’t even come close to preparing him for this.
He picked you up and ran to the car. Dae-ho didn’t remember the drive to the hospital. Every other second he would glance at you lying unconscious in the passenger seat as he sped through the streets of Seoul.
The hospital parking lot was full so Dae-ho parked illegally. He picked you up in both arms and rushed you into the ER, not bothering to turn off the ignition.
The staff jumped up the second they saw you, and quickly tore you out of his hands. A doctor quickly noticed your baby bump and asked you if you had any previous pregnancy complications. He shook his head, and before he could react they were rushing you away from him. He tried to race after you, but two orderlies held him back. Once he couldn’t see you anymore, he collapsed to his feet sobbing.
Dae-ho was hyper aware of everything going on around him. Every beep, every footstep, everything. A doctor came out and questioned him on your medical history. He had it memorized.
It felt like forever before the doctor came out. 
“Mr. Kang?”
Dae-ho immediately stood up and nodded, “your wife experienced something called placental abruption. It’s when the placenta detaches from the uterus. Due to the severity, we performed an emergency C-section.”
“Emergency C-section?” Dae-ho blurted out, “no, it’s too early.”
The doctor sighed, “Yes, 25 weeks is very early, however it was our best option.”
“How are they?” The doctor was talking too slowly, Dae-ho needed answers now.
“Your wife’s placental abruption was very severe, and there were significant complications. She’s very weak, and will have to stay in the ICU. She will need further surgery to try and fix the damage, but due to the amount of blood loss we couldn’t continue the surgery longer.” Dae-ho felt like there was a weight crushing his chest. He couldn’t breathe, “and- and the baby.” He was scared to ask. He didn’t know if he could live if his child died, and he knew he couldn’t if you left him.
“He’s in the NICU, I’m going to be honest with you, premies this size struggle, but we will do everything we can and if he begins to improve, his outlook is very good.” 
His son. His son. He had a little baby somewhere in the hospital, all alone and by himself, without his mother to take care of him. Completely new to the world. “Can I- can I-” The words didn’t come out, but the doctor seemed to understand.
“Yes, of course. Due to disease risk you can’t visit for long and will have to wear sterile clothing, but you can visit briefly.” 
Dae-ho didn’t have to decide which of you to see first. He had to see his son. He knew you, and he knew that you loved your baby more than anything. You wouldn’t want him to be alone right now. A nurse put a set of scrubs on Dae-ho, and then he was ready to enter the room. He had a face mask, a cap, and gloves on, and there were booties on his feet.
As soon as the automatic door slid open, time stopped. There were several babies in the room, but Dae-ho’s eyes quickly found the one that said “Baby Kang.” His feet moved without realizing it, and before he knew it was standing in front of the incubator.
His son was so small. He was tiny. There were wires everywhere and his skin was bright red. But even then Dae-ho could still see his tiny chest rise and fall slowly. Dae-ho started crying and it was one of the only times in his life where he felt no shame for breaking down. The tiny infant in front of him was perfect.
“Sir, you can reach your hand in to gently touch his arm.”
Shaking, Dae-ho reached his hand into the incubator. A wave of emotions passed over him when the baby grabbed onto his finger. The tiny baby held on for dear life.
Dae-ho waited as long as he could, standing, staring at his baby boy until the nurse told him he needed to leave before the risk of viral infection became too high.
The nurse led him to your room. You were laying in a hospital bed with a million tubes attached to your body. You were unconscious with a tube pushed down your throat, with tape over your eyes to prevent them from getting dry.
He reached towards your hands, and took your gloved ones in his.
“(Y/n). He’s perfect. He’s so perfect, and I can just- I can just tell he’s a fighter. He’s so strong, just like his mommy. He- he loves you, and we- we need you to hold on.” He was crying, wetting the mask over his nose, “I’m so proud of you, of both of you. I need you so much, please I just-” 
He started sobbing. There were no words able to express everything he felt, and everything he wanted to say. All he could do was cry.
For the second time that day, he was kicked out of a hospital room. “Can I- can I stay?” He pleaded to the nurse.
She sighed, “you can stay in the NICU waiting room overnight. But, I recommend you go home first.” She motioned to the plain scrubs he had been given to change out of his blood-soaked ones. “If you have any baby things collected yet, you should get them. Also, bring any insurance information and medical records for your wife, and some comfort items for both of you if she wakes up.” The word if stabbed him in the heart, but he nodded. 
Dae-ho didn’t want to leave either of your sides, but he had no choice. His parents were visiting one of his sisters in the countryside, and the majority of your friend group were at a wedding in Jeju that you couldn’t go to due to saving money for the baby.
Dae-ho was determined to get from home to back as quickly as possible. Once he got to the parking lot, he clicked his car keys several times. He didn’t remember where he parked, he was in too much of a rush to get inside when he arrived at the hospital. Dae-ho walked around the entire parking lot looking for the car, before going back inside to check with the front-desk woman.
“Hello, ma’am, I came in with my wife and I- I can’t find my car.” He said, his tone of voice exactly reflecting his feelings.
The woman looked up, “okay, we have cameras in the parking lot, what is the make and model?” 
He gave the information to her, and when she came back from a room he assumed held the security cameras, she had visibly paled.
“I’m so sorry sir, I checked the cameras. It appears as if you left the car door open and the vehicle was stolen. I can call the police and we can see what they can do.” She said apologetically.
“No, I can- let’s just do that later okay.” Dae-ho turned around and walked out the front door. He had no energy left. 
Dae-ho walked to a subway station next to the hospital, and jumped over the turnstile. He knew his way around the subway station. In his early 20s he didn’t have a car, and had familiarized himself with the city’s subway stations. If anyone confronted him about not paying, he knew they would quickly back down once they heard why.
Dae-ho sat down on a bench in front of the train that would take him home, and put his head in his hands.
“Excuse me sir, would you like to play a game?” Dae-ho looked up to see a tall man in a well-pressed suit staring down at him. “No.” Dae-ho snapped, looking back down at the floor.
The man sat down next to him. “Do you know how to play Ddakji?”
Dae-ho scooted slightly away from the man, determined to ignore him. 
“If you play with me I will let you in on a-”
“Listen here sir, I don’t know you and I do not want to play a game. Please leave me alone.” Dae-ho said, looking the man in the eye, trying to deter him. The man let out a slight chuckle, “not even for 100,000 won?”
Dae-ho wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. The thought of the cost of all your medical treatments was something he hadn’t thought about yet. It was so far less than his fear for both of your lives that the thought of paying medical bills hadn’t come close to entering his thoughts before now. He had heard stories of friends-of-friends dying or going bankrupt because of hospital bills. He was horrified of the same thing happening to you or the baby. He would do whatever it took to save you, borrow millions of dollars from loan sharks, work 20 hours a day, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. It was a potential he couldn’t confront. He wouldn’t let you die, but what would he do even if he could get the money? You would be destitute, and his child growing up in poverty was a thought that horrified him. As much as he hated it, a short game with a crazy man would be worth it if it could help prevent that possibility. 
“What’s the catch?” Dae-ho was desperate, not stupid.
“Well, if I win, I give you 100,000 won. If you win, you give me the same, simple as that.” The man responded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes..
“I don’t have 100,000 won.” Dae-ho didn’t care about embarrassing himself in front of strangers on the subway, he had much bigger things to worry about.
The man sighed, “okay, you can pay with your body instead if you’d like,” Dae-ho raised an eyebrow and turned back away from the man with a scoff. The man chuckled again, “no no, not like that. Let’s just say, I take off 100,000 won for every loss. Sound fair?”
Dae-ho felt humiliated. But he couldn’t fail you. He couldn’t fail you over something as stupid as a slap in a children’s game. So he nodded.
The man opened up his briefcase and held out the two pieces, “blue or red?”
By his fourth attempt Dae-ho’s face was red and hurting. With every round he got more and more frustrated, shouting out obscenities after every slap. On the fifth attempt he finally won. Dae-ho shouted out, and with his victory the man handed him two 50,000 won notes.
Dae-ho was ready to walk away and forget the strange event that just happened, when the man spoke. “Kang Dae-ho.”
He turned around, “how the fuck do you know my name?” Dae-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but he turned around and walked to stand directly in front of his face.
The man chuckled, “you are 34 years old. You’ve been married for 9 years and you and your wife have been trying to have a baby for 6 of them. Yesterday, your wife went to the hospital at 25 weeks with an emergency C-section.”
“Fuck you,” Dae-ho threw a punch at the man, who caught it.
“If your child and wife receive all the treatment they need to survive, you will have to pay about  750 million won.” The man smiled, “which is far more than you can afford. You will be destitute if you can get the money. And if not- well… then I guess we know what’ll happen.”
“Why the fuck are you saying this to me?” Tears burned behind Dae-ho’s eyes, threatening to break free.
The man handed Dae-ho a business card with three shapes on it. “Call this number, my organization could help you.”
Just at that moment Dae-ho’s train came, and the man let his arm go to let Dae-ho stumble away. As he sat down on the subway Dae-ho pulled out his wallet. He took out the first ultrasound photo. The first image he ever saw of his baby. You both started bawling once you saw the tiny baby on the screen, and heard the quiet steady beat of your baby’s heartbeat over the monitor.
Dae-ho started crying in his seat on the train. He had dreamed for his entire life about what it would be like to be happy. Truly happy, away from his father’s judgement, away from the military, away from all the pain in his life. And finally, finally it had happened.
His life was beyond his wildest fantasies. He was married to the most wonderful woman in the world, and was going to be a father. You and his son were the greatest things on the planet. You were lovely and kind, and your baby had to be just as lovely and kind as you. And the two of you were somehow his, somehow his family. And then everything fell apart. He had to save you, had to fulfill the promise he had given you so long ago. That it’ll be okay.
“I promise you, daddy is going to take care of you. I’ll see you soon and then you, me and mommy will be okay.” Dae-ho kissed the ultrasound photo, then pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the card.
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This took so long I don't think you understand 😭. I'm not sure how regular I will be able to write, my second semester started halfway through writing this fic and I am so crazy busy that I have almost no free time. My writing has a lot of medical stuff in general because that is my other interest besides writing (#womeninstem lol) I think I'm starting to really find my voice in writing, and it a pretty raw and realistic style. Have a good day, drink water and get sleep :)
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meadowfics · 1 day ago
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lost and found
hwang jun-ho x f!reader
the world is cruel, and you and the officer find out that it will get worse.
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warnings: mentions of death! unfortunately, squid game is in this one. romantic tension. slow burn-ish. this takes place during season 1. junho being innocently stalker-ish. PTSD, stealing/theft, pre-established relationship, it gets spicy towards the end. platonic saebyeok x f!reader and platonic gi hun x f!reader too.
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the city of seoul has never been kind to you.
it used to be, once upon a time. when you were young and did not know much, before the world decided to spit you out like something bitter and unwanted. back then, you were soft. you had this endless capacity to love, to forgive, to believe that people were good at their core. 
maybe some still are, but you don’t care to look for them anymore. there was a time when your empathy was your greatest strength…when you saw someone struggling, you helped, even if it meant giving them the last bit of food in your pocket. 
however, life has a way of chewing up people like you. people who give too much. people who don’t know when to stop bleeding for others.
so now, you don’t give. 
you take.
survival in seoul isn’t kind to the softhearted. there are too many wolves in this city, too many people ready to step on your neck the moment you let your guard down. you learned that the hard way. so you adjusted, adapted. you became what you needed to be to live. 
you steal, scam, and take what you need from those who won’t miss it. not too much…never enough to bring too much attention to yourself or get charged for the felony equivalent in south korea. you only steal enough to survive. enough to make it another day. 
your hands are quick, your mind sharper. you’ve learned how to slip through the cracks of the world, how to turn your heart into steel since nobody else ever cared about you.
some nights, when the neon lights of hongdae reflect against the pavement and the city hums with life, you sit alone and wonder if there’s a way out of this. the party life is just right outside of your apartment.
sometimes you wonder if there’s a light waiting for you at the end of the tunnel. 
each time, the answer is the same. 
no.
there is no light. there is only the dark tunnel.
in seoul, it’s late, the air thick with the scent of soju and grilled meat, laughter spilling out from the bars lining the street. the party district of hongdae is alive, especially tonight since college students go back to school tommorow.
the sidewalks are crammed with people stumbling between clubs, couples clinging to each other, groups of friends taking drunken selfies under the flickering streetlights. it’s an easy place to disappear into, a perfect hunting ground for someone like you.
you spot the redhead almost immediately.
she looks around your age, maybe a little older. the woman’s purse hangs loosely over her shoulder, the zipper half-open, a bunch of 50,000 won bills peeking out. 
that girl is too careless. too trusting, too stupid. your fingers twitch. you don’t hesitate. you step forward, close enough to brush past her, then your hand snatches the purse in one swift motion.
“hey!” she yelps, whirling around, reaching for you. the girl’s fingers graze your sleeve, but you’re faster. you yank the purse away, shoving her back hard. she stumbles, hitting the pavement with a startled cry. 
you don’t feel anything. not guilt, not regret. you feel just the rush of adrenaline as you clutch the stolen bag tighter and start to run off.
then…
“hey, stop!”
your head snaps behind.
a police officer.
the voice of authority cuts through the noise of the crowd, sharp and commanding. your eyes lock onto him for a split second…a man with dark hair, strong jaw, eyes locked onto you with unwavering determination.
fuck.
you don’t hesitate. your feet move before your mind can catch up, body twisting as you bolt into the crowd. the bag is clutched tight in your arms as you weave through bodies, heart slamming against your ribs. behind you, the officer is still yelling, shoving past people, chasing you.
it’s a long run. too long. your lungs burn, your legs scream in protest, but you can’t stop. not now. you need this money to survive and cannot spend a night in a cold cell, not again at least.
the streets blur as you sprint, twisting through alleyways, slipping through groups of people too drunk to notice you. the officer is persistent, but so are you. 
the desperation makes you faster in way.
left. right. through a narrow gap between two buildings. past a food stall. over a railing. you smacked into a few people but most of them mainly found entertainment in the whole thing. the police officer being frustrated that they didn’t catch you for him. 
you can still hear his feet running behind you, but the distance is growing. he’s good, but you’re better. you have to be.
finally, finally, you see an opening…a narrow alley packed with people, bodies pressed together in drunken laughter. you push into the throng, squeezing between them, head down, moving fast. 
the moment you’re inside the mass of people, you twist, slipping out the other side.
the officer doesn’t make it through in time.
you could swear that you heard him swear, then nothing.
you keep running until you’re sure he’s gone, until your lungs burn and your vision blurs.
back in the alley, hwang jun-ho stands at the edge of the crowd, hands on his knees, breathing hard. frustration twists in his chest. 
he catches everyone, but not you tonight. 
not this time.
just a few blocks away, you just linger among the party crowd. you don’t go home immediately since that would be stupid. instead, you just take a long, winding path through backstreets and alleyways, making sure no one is following you. 
only when you’re certain that you’ve shaken off any lingering attention do you head back to your apartment.
your door has two locks, and you slide the security bar into place before exhaling. safe.
the stolen purse hits your kitchen island with a dull thud. you waste no time, unzipping it and dumping everything out onto the table.
a fenty lip gloss, used and sticky. gross. a single tampon, the woman could’ve kept that.
a metro card..you toss it straight into the trash since it's too risky and can be tracked.
then, jackpot.
there were identification cards which were meaningless to you. the thick wad of cash though? that’s everything. you grab the bills, hands steady as you start counting. 10,000 won, 50,000 won, 100,000 won… when you’re finished, the total stands at 1,200,000 won.
this isn’t just a good night. this is security. rent for next month, covered. a few days inside, hidden, making sure that officer doesn’t recognize you.
you let out a slow breath. for now, you’re safe.
well, only for three days because now the cold steel of the chair digs into your back as you slouch against it, wrists resting lazily in your lap, the handcuffs cold against your skin. the precinct smells of burnt coffee and old papers, fluorescent lights humming above you.
you had a few days of peace before the cops knocked on your door, telling you that you had to go down to the station. they know you by name now, not bothering to go an extra mile since you never change the signature of your crimes.
the only reason you’re not behind bars is because the girl you robbed doesn’t even live here. she already went back to her home in the UK according to the officer. so, fortunately, you just get another warning. 
you should be relieved, maybe even grateful, but you don’t feel anything. nothing at all.
across from you, leaning against the edge of the desk with arms crossed, is the officer who chased you that night. hwang jun-ho is his name.
he is pissing you off. not for being a pig, but you hate that he looks good in the dim light, hate the sharp angles of his face, the slight furrow in his brow as he watches you like you’re some puzzle he can’t quite solve. 
you’re used to police officers looking at you with disgust, with judgment, but there’s something different in his gaze. curiosity.
“so,” he finally speaks, his voice even. 
“you’re fast.”
you shrug. 
“what can i say?”
he tilts his head slightly, gaze sweeping over you in assessment. 
“you play sports?”
you exhale sharply through your nose, a ghost of a laugh. 
“that’s not important.”
jun-ho smirks, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears. 
“fair.”
he steps away, pacing to the side as he flips through a thin file…yours, probably. your name, your face, your crimes reduced to black ink on paper. you wonder how much of your life is in there, if they know more than just your record.
“you’ve been warned before,” he says, flipping a page.
 “a few times, actually. shoplifting. scams. pickpocketing.” he closes the file and meets your gaze. “but no felony charges.”
“guess i’m lucky,” you say, leaning back, feigning boredom.
“not luck,” jun-ho corrects, sliding his hands into his pockets. 
“just smart enough to not take it too far.” he tilts his head slightly. 
you say nothing, looking away.
“give back the purse.”
you reach your cuffed hands under the table, grabbing the bag and tossing it onto the desk between you. the leather is slightly worn from the days you’ve had it, but nothing else is out of place.
jun-ho watches you carefully, then sighs. 
“the money.”
you don’t move.
the money is in your safe, in your bedroom walls, at home. 
the money you refuse to give back.
he exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he expected this. 
“of course.”
you let the silence settle between you, waiting for whatever lecture is coming, but he doesn’t scold you. instead, he leans in just slightly, dropping his voice.
“i’m keeping an eye on you.”
you scoff, rolling your eyes. 
“right. cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”
jun-ho doesn’t react, his face unreadable. 
“considering this isn’t your first warning? yeah. i don’t.”
you push back in your chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor. 
“well, officer,” you say, tone sharp with sarcasm, “i look forward to our next meeting.”
jun-ho watches as you’re escorted out, his eyes following you even as you disappear down the hall.
weeks pass and you try to forget about the encounter, about the way his voice sounded when he said your name, about the way his dark eyes studied you like you were something worth understanding. 
you try to focus on surviving. 
you get a job… a shitty one, but one that pays enough to keep you afloat for now.
every now and then, when you step into a small café for breakfast, when you walk through the streets at night, when you’re with your only friend sae-byeok whispering about her crimes… he’s there.
jun-ho is never too far away, usually across the street or on the other side of a park.
he never does anything and he never speaks, but you see him, leaning against a wall, pretending to be busy with his phone, pretending to be on patrol. 
however, his eyes will always follow you.
one evening, you and sae-byeok finish a quick meal at a convenience store, standing outside by the flickering neon lights. she shoves her hands into her pockets, giving you a knowing look.
“that asshole is staring again.”
you sigh, glancing over.
jun-ho stands across the street, pretending he’s not looking directly at you.
sae-byeok chuckles under her breath. 
“he’s obsessed with you.”
“he’s a cop,” you mutter. 
“it’s his job to be annoying.”
she nudges your arm. 
“you should go say hi.”
“and what? tell him to fuck off?”
she grins. 
“exactly.”
you roll your eyes, watching as she walks off. 
once she’s gone, you take a deep breath and cross the street, closing the distance between you and jun-ho.
he looks up as you approach, not surprised.
“you’re a creep,” you say flatly.
jun-ho exhales through his nose, barely amused. 
“you’re a criminal.”
“not anymore.”
his brows lift slightly.
“really?”
“yeah,” you say, crossing your arms. 
“i found a job. so get off my back. i’m not stealing anymore.”
jun-ho hums, unconvinced. 
“that’s a trend for you.”
you glare at him. 
“what?”
he shrugs, “you get a job, hate the pay, then go back to stealing… sometimes from the same place you work at.”
you scoff, rolling your eyes. “you need a better hobby, i cannot live in your head rent free.”
“i have one,” he says, avoiding what you said last. 
“i’m just doing my job.”
you shake your head, stepping back. “whatever,” you mutter, turning on your heel and walking off. you know he won’t follow. he never does but somehow he’s always close.
overtime, maybe a week or so.. jun-ho never thought that he’d be the type of cop to get overly invested. not really. working for the police is his job…catching criminals, chasing leads, dealing with lowlifes who made their money through terrible means. he never let himself get too curious, never let himself care too much to where it affected his personal life.
however, you, you are a puzzle he can’t help but try to solve.
at first, it was just an annoyance. you had slipped through his fingers that night in hongdae, and that bruised his ego. he didn’t lose people, but somehow, you had outrun him. a girl whos shorter than him.
when he finally caught you, he had expected to feel satisfaction, but it never came because instead, he just felt intrigued.
now, you’re barely doing anything wrong. you’ve stayed out of trouble for a while, and he should be relieved. he should be happy. instead, he finds himself watching and observing because despite all the things you’ve done, despite the walls you keep up, there are cracks in that mask of yours… ones he never expected to see.
he sees it in the way you linger at the local market, the way your fingers brush over fresh fruit before you tuck them carefully into a paper bag, paying with what little money you have. he wonders why you never steal from here, why the vendors greet you with small nods instead of suspicion.
junho sees it in the alley behind the convenience store, where stray cats weave between your ankles, tails flicking in contentment as you crouch down to feed them scraps of tuna and unseasoned chicken. 
you don’t talk to them, don’t coo at them like most people would… but your hands are gentle, your touch careful, as if you’re afraid of breaking something fragile.
then, there’s the lemonade stand thing that happened yesterday afternoon.
jun-ho didn’t even mean to see it. he’s just in the police car, just patrolling, when he spots you across the street. there’s a kid that sis no older than ten standing behind a makeshift stand with a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of plastic cups. 
the sign is messy, written in thick, uneven strokes. 1,000 won per cup!
he watches as you pause, as you reach into your pocket, pulling out a crumpled bill.
you hand it to the boy.
you don’t take the over-sweetened lemonade. you just shove your hands in your pockets and walk away before the kid can even thank you.
jun-ho doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.
maybe it’s because it doesn’t fit the version of you he’s built in his head. the version that’s cold, calculating, selfish, and greedy. that version is wrong, isn’t it? a selfish person wouldn’t waste their own money on a kid just trying to make some change. 
a selfish person wouldn’t play with stray cats or make sure to buy expensive fruit instead of stealing it.
he doesn’t know what your story is, but he’s starting to understand that you are not heartless. reckless? yes. irresponsible? absolutely. not cruel. not fully empty like you try to seem.
that fact is becoming his problem.
he’s read your file. he knows more than he should. your past, the childhood neglect, the system that failed you over and over again. he’s seen it before with people turning bitter, turning desperate, because the world gave them nothing and expected them to make do.
he’s a police officer, not a superhero. he can’t fix that or fix you.
junho wishes you would just stop making stupid decisions. maybe if you did, maybe if you found a way out of this cycle.
maybe then, he could approach you differently.
maybe then, he wouldn’t just be watching.
see, you’re not stupid.
jun-ho might be a good cop, but he’s a shit liar.
he acts like he’s patrolling, like he’s just doing his job. you know better. he’s watching you nd keeping tabs on you. the man is always near, always somewhere in the background. does he have a wife? kids? maybe not, he is still on the younger side. maybe just five to seven years older than you. its clear that he is single with too much freetime.
maybe if you were the same person you were five years ago, soft, trusting, and hopeful, you would have been creeped out, even scared that a police officer was suspicious of you. 
now, it just makes you feel something you don’t want to name.
you know you haven’t stolen in weeks. you haven’t picked a pocket, scammed a dumb drunk, or lifted a wallet off a distracted tourist. that 1,200,000 won is keeping you stable… at least for now. long enough, hopefully, until jun-ho gets bored and moves on.
lately, the thought of him moving on, of him not watching you anymore, makes your chest feel tight because no one notices you. no one ever has in the large city of seoul.
your only friend, sae-byeok, even disappeared at times. 
throughout your whole life, you’ve been invisible to the people who should’ve cared, to the world that chewed you up and spat you out, to the strangers who walk past you every day without a second glance. 
jun-ho, that damn police officer, he sees you. even if he’s just doing it because he thinks you’ll screw up again, even if it’s nothing but routine for him, it still means something.
that pisses you off.
he’s annoying because he’s too attractive for his own good, because he gets under your skin in a way no one else does or has ever had.
so when you spot him across the street, writing up some guy for speeding, you don’t think and you just move.
you stand a few feet away and wait until he’s finished, watching as he hands over the ticket with that same unimpressed expression he always wears. when the guy finally drives off in frustration, you step forward, hands in your pockets, your voice laced with teasing amusement.
“well, it looks like you finally found something else to do besides watching me.”
jun-ho doesn’t even look surprised. just rolls his eyes as he slips his notepad back into his jacket. 
“trust me, you’re not that interesting.”
you smirk. 
“oh, really? then why are you always around?”
he exhales sharply, shaking his head. 
“coincidence.”
“bullshit.”
he huffs a laugh, crossing his arms. 
“you’re awfully confident for someone who’s one mistake away from getting arrested.”
you tilt your head, stepping a little closer, just enough to make it personal. 
“i haven’t stolen in weeks. you know that. so what’s your excuse, officer?”
jun-ho says nothing, just looks at you, unreadable. for a second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes… something not quite irritation, not quite amusement.
then he sighs, “go home, y/n. it's getting late.”
you grin, ignoring the way his voice sounds when he says your name. 
“whatever you say, officer.”
you step back, turning on your heel, but before you walk away, you glance over your shoulder.
“see you tomorrow.”
jun-ho doesn’t respond, but you don’t need him to because you both know the truth. i mean there were no plans but he is never too far away from you.
not even an hour later in the subway, you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, fingers gripping the red square piece of paper between your thumb and index finger. 
your palms sting, and faint imprints of the salesman’s hand still tingling against the skin on your face. the bastard had slapped you twice, only twice, but your pride felt more bruised than your face.
you should’ve walked away from the salesman who sat down next to you, you should’ve kept your head down, taken your money from the last round, and gone home. the moment he laughed at you, and told you that him and his “organization” knew everything about you, you knew that this was no coincidence. 
the salesman had handed you a small card before leaving the station, something he implied that would change your life. it was thin, a little worn at the edges, the symbols on the front simple but strange: a circle, a triangle, a square.
you flip it over.
a phone number.
“call when you’re ready for your chance,” the man had said, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.
you stare at the numbers, tapping the card against your palm as the subway car sways gently beneath your feet. 
something about it feels off. it’s too mysterious, too cryptic… but the promise of financial freedom? of something bigger?
you need that.
you close your eyes briefly, exhaling through your nose. you don’t know why, but in the back of your mind, you wish jun-ho had been there.
not to stop you, necessarily… but just to be there.
if he had been, maybe he would’ve told you to be careful. maybe he would’ve pulled you away from the salesman, away from whatever this was, away from another stupid decision.
however, jun-ho has his own problems.
across the city, jun-ho exhales sharply, staring at the thin card between his fingers. little did you know, he did have a life outside of work. junho’s mind is elsewhere, swirling with frustration, worry, and a growing sense of unease. 
inho, his older brother, his only family besides his mom, has been missing for weeks.
no leads. no clues. just gone. until now.
the man in front of him.. gi-hun, scruffy, desperate, looking defeated, tells junho that he made up a lie at the police station. a lie about a card that junho saw on his brother’s desk. 
“where did you get this?” jun-ho asks, his voice steady but demanding.
jun-ho remembers the card. a circle. triangle. square.
inho had this same card in his apartment before he vanished.
when gihun walks away, junho lets him but he does not give up. 
meanwhile, you sit in the subway car, flipping the card between your fingers, picking on the inside of your cheek with your teeth.
a few nights later, jun-ho knows that he shouldn’t be here outside.
it’s past midnight, and he should be going home after his shift, should be focusing on his brother, should be figuring out why gi-hun is connected to all of this. however, when he spots gi-hun walking down the empty street, he moves on instinct, following from a safe distance.
the thing is that he doesn’t expect to see you but there you are passing gi hun on the block, keeping your head down while walking down the quiet street.
you don’t see junho. you’re too busy walking, hands deep in your pockets, shoulders tense. at first, he assumes the worst… that you’re about to do something stupid, that you’re going back to your old habits, that you’ll make him chase you again.
he should leave you alone but junho can’t so he detours, shadowing you instead.
but then, you stop.
jun-ho narrows his eyes, staying low behind a parked car. you stand outside a small park, unmoving. your hands tighten in your pockets, and for a moment, it almost looks like you’re hesitating and then the van pulls up.
jun-ho stiffens, watching as you glance up, exhaling a breath before stepping forward. the door slides open and you climb in. three seconds later, smoke fills up the van’s windows. a thick, white, flooding the air.
jun-ho’s heart pounds. he watches as the van lingers for only a few seconds before pulling away, disappearing down the street.
“the hell?” he mutters under his breath, immediately making his way back to his car. the officers hands grip the wheel tightly as he follows, keeping a careful distance, headlights off. the man’s mind races… who the hell were these people? did you know them? were you in danger?
the van slows down five blocks later and and jun-ho’s stomach drops.
gi-hun, standing with the same look you had.
the van door slides open again, the same cloud of smoke spilling out into the night air.
gi-hun stumbles, barely reacting before he collapses, his body slumping forward.
jun-ho grips the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenching.
this wasn’t just some underground scam.
this was something else, something big, and now, he had to protect two people.
one… a man who might be his only lead to his missing brother.
the other… a woman who had no idea what kind of hell she was walking into.
three days later, your body is stiff, motionless, even as your mind screams at you to run. that is because you don’t belong here. you never did.
the deaths, the endless and ruthless deaths, should’ve broken you by now. however, you refuse to let it show. you refuse to let anyone see that you’re barely keeping yourself together, that your heart threatens to claw its way out of your chest every time a gunshot echoes through the air.
sae-byeok notices, though. she always does.
she ended up in these games. she is player 067, and you are player 404. luckily, sae byeok stays close, her presence grounding you, keeping you from slipping too far into your own head. you’ve survived red light, green light. you’ve survived dalgona, but surviving isn’t the same as living.
you exhale slowly, fists clenched as the guards flood into the dorms due to some sort of situation. their guns are raised, black masks concealing their faces. your eyes flick to sae-byeok, who remains perfectly still, her expression unreadable. 
beside you, gi-hun tenses.
a guard steps forward, voice sharp.
“do you know any player by the name of hwang in-ho?”
gi-hun shakes his head. 
“no.”
“w-we don’t use our names in here.”
he continues, 
however, your breath hitches, barely audible.
because that voice…
you turn your head, scanning the line of guards, your heart pounding against your ribs.
it’s stupid. so stupid.
you’re being paranoid. you’re in survival mode, and your mind is playing tricks on you.
jun-ho is not here.
for a second, just a second, your eyes lock onto the guard that was behind you. somehow, the guard doesn’t look away.
your throat tightens but it’s impossible.
stop thinking about jun-ho all the time. he is not here.
you force yourself to clear your thoughts, shaking your head slightly before looking away, pretending the moment never happened.
the guards stay for a few more minutes, checking something… you don’t know what, don’t care what… before they leave. 
however, you sit back down in exhaustion, hoping to get out of here soon. 
three more days go by and the air is thick with the stench of blood and rain.
your fingers twitch, your breathing shallow, but all you can do is stare. sang-woo’s body lies motionless in front of you, crimson pooling beneath him. dead. you should feel something. anything. relief, maybe. satisfaction. however, all you feel is rage. burning, searing rage.
sae-byeok should be here. sangwoo killed sae-byeok just a few hours before this moment.
sae-byeok should be standing beside you, should be breathing, should be alive.
the only person in your life is now gone.
now it’s just you and gi-hun.
you tighten your fists, nails digging into your palms as the finality of it all crashes down on you like a tidal wave. you won. you and gi-hun are the last ones standing. it doesn’t feel like a victory though, it feels like a punishment.
you don’t remember much after that.
it’s all a blur. the way the guards forced you into a van, blindfolded, hands tied. you barely even processed the moment they threw you back onto the cold pavement of the city, the impact sending a sharp ache through your ribs. you untie yourself quickly, fingers trembling slightly as you rip the blindfold off, blinking against the dim streetlights.
you’re back but not in those suffocating green jumpsuits, not in that godforsaken arena of death. you’re in your own clothes. the same ones you wore before stepping into that van all those days ago.
your breath comes out shaky as you pat yourself down, desperate for something, anything, that proves this wasn’t some fever dream, that you’re really standing here, that you made it out.
your fingers brush against something solid, metallic. your stomach twists. slowly, you pull it from your pocket. a gold card. your hands tremble as you stare at it. you already know what it means.
however, you have to see it with your own eyes. 
you take off running, feet pounding against the pavement as you sprint to the nearest ATM.
your heart is hammering in your chest when you shove the card into the machine, barely able to keep your hands steady. the screen loads, the numbers processing.
your breath catches.
balance: 22.8 billion won.
you sway on your feet, gripping the edge of the ATM, fingers white-knuckled.
you made it. you’re free since there is no more stealing, no more running, no more waking up every day wondering if you’ll make it to the next.
you won.
why does it feel so fucking hollow?
why does the sight of those numbers on the screen make your stomach churn instead of settle?
why do you feel like you lost more than you won?
you exhale, stepping away from the ATM, forcing yourself to straighten.
you have to keep moving.
you have to act normal because the moment you let this break you, the moment you let the cracks widen,  is the moment you really lose.
deep down, you know it.
things aren’t over yet.
more weeks go by and your apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. it’s the same. its the same same peeling wallpaper, same secondhand furniture, same dim lighting that flickers in the kitchen. however, you are different.
the streets outside are loud, too loud. car horns make you flinch, sudden shouts send ice down your spine, and every time you close your eyes, you see flashes of red. of green. of bodies hitting the ground. living in the city does not seem like a smart idea anymore.
however, you force yourself to settle back into your old routine. you buy fruit at the market. you feed the stray cats. you pretend everything is fine.
nothing is fine.
suddenly, a knock on your door brings back another old routine.
it’s light. soft.
you don’t flinch since it was so light but your heart pounds anyway.
you hesitate before opening the door, fingers gripping the handle tighter than necessary. when you see him standing there, alive, real,  your breath catches in your throat.
jun-ho.
for a moment, you just stare.
your chest tightens, your throat burns, and you feel dangerously close to crying. for weeks, you’ve convinced yourself that he moved on. that he never noticed you were gone and that he forgot you. he’s here.
junho’s eyes scan your face carefully, like he’s checking to see if you’re really okay.
“can i come in?” his voice is softer than you remember.
you nod quickly, stepping aside.
he enters, his presence filling the small space as you shut the door behind him. he doesn’t move much, just stands there, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on you.
“tea?” you offer, voice hoarse.
“water’s fine if you have any.”
you pour him a glass, setting it down in front of him before sitting across from him at your small table. the silence stretches between you both as you sit down in front of him at your table.
the weight of everything presses down on your chest.
“i was there, too.”
you freeze at his words.
jun-ho exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 
“on the island. i followed gi-hun. i was looking for my missing brother.”
your stomach twists, you did not know this much information about junho.
“you know gi-hun?”
he nods. 
“yeah. he led me there without realizing it.” he hesitates, eyes locking onto yours. 
he didn’t speak for a moment as you looked at him with curiosity, is he okay? was he a player? why didn’t you see him? how didn’t he get caught? 
“i pretending to be a guard. the circle one that you saw that day in the dorms. later on I got shot in my shoulder, but i am okay.” 
junho reassures. yet, you are not reassured. 
“i was looking out for you, too.”
your breath shudders.
he leans forward slightly. 
“when i saw you get in that van, i—” he stops, jaw tightening. 
“i thought i lost you.”
something inside you cracks.
you don’t know when the tears start. one second, you’re staring at him, trying to hold it together, and the next, your vision blurs, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. jun-ho doesn’t say anything, just watches, just listens, as everything you’ve been holding in breaks.
“i didn’t sign up for that,” you choke out, voice shaking. 
“i thought— i thought it was just games. just money. i just wanted to be able to stop what i used to do.”
junho’s expression darkens, but he says nothing.
you shake your head, wiping at your face. 
“they killed them. all of them. and i– i just stood there, i just..”
you gasp, a sob wrenching from your throat before you can stop it.
jun-ho moves before you can register it. one second, you’re falling apart and the next, his arms are around you, pulling you close.
you freeze since his warmth seeps into you, his steady breathing grounding you. junho’s grip is firm, solid, real. this is the first time since sae-byeok’s death that you don’t feel alone.
you clutch the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling tightly into the material as you let yourself feel. you cry for sae-byeok. for the people who didn’t make it. for the part of yourself that died on that island.
jun-ho holds you through all of it.
when your sobs quiet into shaky breaths, you whisper against his shoulder, “can you stay?”
he doesn’t hesitate.
“yeah,” he murmurs. “i’ll stay.”
he needs this just as much as you do.
when you finally pull back, your face is inches from his.
the officer’s hand lingers on your back, his breath warm against your cheek. junho’s eyes, dark, searching, soft, flicker down to your lips for only a second before meeting your gaze again.
your heart pounds, but this time, it’s not from fear.
the officer is now living with you, but he is different now.
something inside of him has shifted, cracked beyond repair.
after finding out that his own brother, the one he spent so long searching for, was the mastermind behind that place, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to his old life. to the force and to the law because what was the point?
this world was cruel but you already knew that.
he spends his days with you now. at first, it’s small things, late breakfasts, quiet conversations, accompanying each other to the store, sitting in the same room without speaking. suddenly, it becomes something more. something deeper because you grow close. too close.
neither of you say anything about it.
the tension between you simmers beneath the surface, heavy and waiting. it’s in the way jun-ho’s eyes linger on you when you’re not looking, in the way your fingers brush against his when you pass him something, in the way your body tenses whenever he gets too close, but you never pull away.
one night, it finally snaps.
you wake up crying.
your dreams, no, your memories, are suffocating. blood, screams, gunfire. your body shakes, your chest tightens, and you can’t breathe.
you force yourself out of bed, wiping your face as you shuffle toward the kitchen. maybe water will help. maybe the cold tile beneath your feet will ground you. however, as you step out into the hallway, you stop.
jun-ho stands in the hallway, shirt loose, hair messy, his face unreadable. it looks like he just step outside of his room as well.
he looks like he hasn’t slept.
“you okay?” his voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.
you nod. a lie.
he exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 
“couldn’t sleep.”
you swallow. 
“me neither.”
silence.
suddenly, it snaps, something snaps.
you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his lips are on yours.
it’s not soft. it’s not careful. it’s desperate.
junho’s hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you clutch onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. the man’s mouth moves against yours with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid to let go.
this tension, this thing between you, it’s been there for so long, even before the games. before the world burned around you and now, it’s finally boiling over.
jun-ho backs you up, step by step, until your back hits the doorframe of your bedroom. junho’s breath is hot against your lips, his hands firm on your hips.
you don’t stop him because you don’t want to stop him.
junho’s lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower, deeper, like he’s memorizing the way you taste. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his abs as you pull him closer, and closer.
he groans softly against your mouth, and something about the sound sends a shiver down your spine.
you don’t even realize that your door opened until he’s guiding you backward, at least until your knees hit the bed.
your heart pounds, your breath shaky as his lips trail along your jaw, down to your neck, his hands never leaving your body.
you close your eyes, letting yourself drown in him, in this, in everything.
with junho, you realized this is where your nightmare ends. 
masterlist
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lizsos · 2 days ago
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Between The Lines
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Genre : fluff
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The rain had been falling for hours, soaking the cobblestone paths of Seoul University and pooling along the edges of the courtyard. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of wet earth and old books through the nearly deserted halls.
You should have been home by now.
Instead, you found yourself standing outside his office door.
Hwang In-ho
Your fingers hovered over the doorknob, your pulse thrumming in your ears. This wasn’t the first time you had lingered outside Professor Hwang Inho’s office, debating whether to step inside. But tonight felt different—he had asked you to come.
That alone should have been enough reason to turn around.
Instead, you swallowed the hesitation rising in your throat and pushed the door open.
The warm glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room. He was there, waiting.
Hwang Inho sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, fingers idly tapping against the spine of a book. His dark eyes lifted as you stepped inside, scanning you with that unreadable expression he always wore.
“You’re late.” His voice was smooth, edged with something you couldn’t quite name.
You hesitated before closing the door behind you. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”
His lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close. “And yet, here you are.”
The room suddenly felt too small, the air thick with something unspoken.
You stepped forward, dropping your bag onto the chair across from him. “You said you wanted to see my revisions.”
Inho leaned back in his chair, gaze still fixed on you. “Did I?”
Your stomach flipped at his tone. He was doing it again—this. The way he spoke in half-truths, the way he let his words stretch into something heavier than they needed to be.
“You’re impossible,” you muttered, crossing your arms.
He chuckled, low and soft. “And you’re impatient.”
You watched as he reached for your papers, flipping through them with slow, deliberate movements. His fingers skimmed the margins, tracing over the handwritten notes, his brow furrowing in thought.
Minutes passed in silence, but it wasn’t a comfortable one.
It was charged.
Then, he spoke—quiet, observant. “You changed this section.”
You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the desk. “Is that a bad thing?”
His eyes flicked up to meet yours. “No.”
A pause.
“Just unexpected.”
The weight of his attention sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes—dark, intense—held you there, like he was searching for something beneath the surface.
You wet your lips, heartbeat quickening. “You make it hard to think.”
His hand stilled against the paper.
Then—slowly, deliberately—he closed the file.
Your breath caught as he leaned forward, the desk between you suddenly feeling like nothing at all.
“Then stop thinking,” he murmured.
Your fingers curled against the wooden edge of the desk.
The space between you felt unbearably thin, stretched tight with something neither of you had dared to name.
And then—neither of you stepped back.
You weren’t sure who moved first—maybe it was you, maybe it was him, or maybe this moment had been inevitable from the start.
But suddenly, his mouth was on yours.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was months of unspoken tension unraveling all at once. His hands gripped your waist, pulled you forward, closer, until there was no space left at all.
You gasped against his lips, fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. His lips were hot, demanding, consuming.
One of his hands slid up your back, threading into your hair as he angled your head, deepening the kiss. You felt the quiet groan rumble in his chest, the heat of his breath as he exhaled against your lips.
Your back hit the desk as he pressed against you, his body firm, overwhelming in the best way. His fingers curled against your hip, holding you there, grounding you.
You broke apart for air, but he didn’t let you go far—his forehead rested against yours, his breaths uneven, mirroring your own.
“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, voice shaking.
Inho let out a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Too soft. Too careful.
“Probably,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours again—teasing, testing.
Your heart pounded as his fingers traced the curve of your jaw, slow and deliberate. His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark with something unreadable. Something dangerous.
“But tell me to stop,” he said softly. “And I will.”
You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Because you both knew the truth.
Neither of you wanted to.
And maybe—neither of you ever would.
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doodlebug-qt · 2 days ago
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I love how they all just unanimously agreed to have her on their team. Somehow, I get the feeling that Gi-hun especially felt a need to look out for her, maybe reminded of when he played tug-of-war the last time he was in the games, and even though their team didn't necessarily have the strongest players, they still managed to beat the other team using clever strategy over brute strength.
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such a dumb comic but this scene was just so funny and cute to me, rip player 096
Consider commissioning me! DMs open
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k1mbe3rly · 2 days ago
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hhheeeyyy... do you mind doing a gyeong-su nsfw alphabet? i get we dont know much abt the fella but shdbsj.. /vvnf
i wasn’t sure if you meant the aouad or squid game but i’m doing both either way😭
Gyeong su NSFW alphabet
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He’s mainly awkward but does clean you up, he does anything you ask him to make you feel comfortable
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
his favorite body part about you is your neck, he doesn’t even know why he just loves to mark you with his hickeys and nuzzle his nose into it
His favorite body part about himself is probably just his arms, he doesn’t even have a specific reasons nor does it even help you to make you feel good but he just lowkey admires them
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He loves to cover your ass with his cum, he doesn’t mind pulling out but does love the feeling of his cock pumping all his cum out inside you
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
His dirty secret is probably fucking you T.O.P playlist or his bands songs
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s experienced but doesn’t have sex often, other than that he knows what’s going on
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Just simple, missionary, he likes to see your face or the way your tits bounce each thrust he makes into you
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
definitely the goofy type, he makes jokes but not a lot, like when he’s fucking you he’ll just crack a small sex joke than goes back to grunting
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He’s groomed, he doesn’t really care about that much, but he’ll groom just for you
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He gets very romantic, he goes all out like for valentines he decorates the room and when you come home he’s in his boxers holding a rose in his mouth
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
he doesn’t jerk off, maybe once or twice
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
He doesn’t have much kinks, he just haves sex maybe a bit of hair pulling, degrading, and praising
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Simple, the bed
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Dirty talk
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything that causes pain
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He prefers giving, and receiving, it’s an equal 50%
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He doesn’t mind what pace you want him to go, he just wants to be able to make you feel good
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He loves the feeling of quickies in public or feeling that rush thru his body, causing him to fuck you even harder
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He likes the feeling of taking the risk but hates actually getting caught, it really depends if he feels rebellious 😈
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He can last a few rounds but mainly like 3-4
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
no toys
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He’s not a big fan of teasing
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
As a top he doesn’t make much noises just grunts and heavy breathing
As a sub he does moan a bit high pitched and whimper
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He fucked you at the Thanos concert
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
a solid 7
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Not that high but he does have sex with you when you want it
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards
He lowkey tires himself out and accidentally falls asleep the moment he pulls out and gets next to you
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rosones · 13 hours ago
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social media au - being an actress dating choi seunghyun pt. 6
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liked by y/n, & 2,484,212 others
ttt ✓ - more to come
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user - he gives 2016 tumblr vibes sooooo much
user - he NEEDS to post more selfies
user - my husband fr
user - maybe babygirl is a 37 year old Korean man named choi seunghyun
y/n ✓ - mr yummy
liked by author
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liked by y/n, xxxibgdrgn, & 6,381,798 others
ttt ✓ - EXILE , THE ALBUM . 5.5.25
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user - we are SO back
userlikesphotography231 - is this a drawing of y/n??
user - /@userlikesphotography231 considering the gorgeous silhouette + the fact that Top is obsessed with her, most likely is her lol
xxxibgdrgn ✓ - so happy for you, my brother 🤍🌼
ttt ✓ - /@xxxibgdrgn 🤍🤍🤍
user - so fucking excited for his comeback
user - as a VIP, I used to pray for times like this 🥹
user - already album of the year and it ain’t even out yet
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liked by y/n, xxxibgdrgn, gq, & 7,342,447 others
ttt ✓ - Vogue Korea
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user - he’s SO fine
user - y/n better share him
y/n ✓ - MY man
liked by author
user - this made my hole weak
user - jawline sculpted by the gods
the following article was written by journalist Kim Do-Yun & published by Vogue Korea .
T.O.P Returns: A Candid Conversation on Redemption, Love, and ‘Exile’
By: Kim Do-Yun
Choi Seung-hyun—better known as T.O.P. for years, was one of K-pop’s most enigmatic figures: a deep-voiced rapper, a captivating performer, an artist who thrived in mystery. But mystery turned to scandal when his 2017 marijuana case sent shockwaves through South Korea’s entertainment industry. The fallout was brutal, the silence that followed even more so.
Now, after years spent in near-complete solitude, he’s back—not just with music, but with acting, love, and a newfound perspective on life.
Throughout my interview with him, he exuded a quiet confidence, different from the playful arrogance he once carried as a member of BIGBANG. He has always been measured in his words, but that day, there was something more—an openness, a willingness to be seen for who he truly is, not just who the public wants him to be.
Facing the Shadows
“I won’t pretend it was easy,” he admitted. “There was a time when I thought I might never return to music or acting. I felt like I had lost the right to stand in front of people again.”
Following the scandal, T.O.P withdrew almost entirely from the entertainment world. There were sporadic updates—glimpses of his art collection, a few cryptic Instagram posts—but nothing substantial.
“I needed time,” he said simply. “Time to understand my own mind, my mistakes, and what I wanted from life. I spent years writing & making music with no intention of releasing it. It was a way of surviving, I think. But at some point, I realized I didn’t just want to create in the shadows anymore.”
That realization birthed his upcoming album, Exile, a deeply personal project that delves into themes of isolation, redemption, and transformation.
The Concept Behind Exile
“I see Exile as a letter to my past self,” he explained. “It’s about being cast out—sometimes by others, but more often by yourself. It’s about wandering, finding meaning in solitude, and ultimately, choosing to return.”
The album is a drastic departure from his earlier work, blending experimental hip-hop and jazz influences. The soundscape is layered, atmospheric—reflecting the emotional depth of a man who has lived through both adoration and condemnation.
“There’s pain in the music, but there’s also hope,” he continued. “It’s not just about suffering—it’s about what comes after. How do you rebuild yourself when the world thinks you’ve already fallen?”
The lead single, Ashes, encapsulates this journey. “It’s about burning down what no longer serves you and rising from it,” he explained. “Not in a dramatic way—no big explosion. Just embers, slow and steady, turning into something new.”
Reclaiming His Place in Acting: ‘Squid Game’ and Thanos
But music isn’t the only thing marking T.O.P’s return. His casting in Netflix’s Squid Game Season 2 sent fans into a frenzy, a bold choice for an artist who had stayed away from the spotlight for so long.
“I never thought I’d act again,” he admitted. “I had offers over the years, but I wasn’t ready. Then I read the script for Squid Game 2, and something in me woke up. It was exactly the kind of story I wanted to tell.”
In the highly anticipated sequel to the global phenomenon, T.O.P plays Thanos, a complex and ruthless figure within the deadly games. Unlike the participants struggling to survive, Thanos is a former winner—one who chose to return.
“He’s not a traditional villain,” T.O.P clarified. “He’s someone who understands the system better than anyone else. He’s cold, calculating, but not without emotion. He knows what it takes to survive, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes—not for money, but for something deeper. Something he lost.”
The role demanded an emotional transformation. “The hardest part was getting into his mindset. Thanos isn’t just playing the game—he’s manipulating it. He’s someone who has seen too much, lost too much.”
The weight of the character stayed with him long after filming wrapped. “I think I related to him more than I expected,” he admitted. “Not in his actions, but in his solitude. In that feeling of being outside of everything, even when you’re in the center of it.”
Love & Chaos
It was on the Squid Game set that T.O.P met someone who would change everything—his co-star, Y/N. Their connection, first built through long filming days, soon grew into something deeper.
“She saw me for who I was, not just who the world made me out to be,” he said, a softness in his voice. “There’s something freeing about that—being with someone who knows both your darkness and your light and chooses to stay anyway.”
For someone who spent so long rebuilding himself alone, letting someone in was no easy task. “I used to think love was another thing I had lost the right to,” he confessed. “But she changed that.”
Their relationship became public in a way that no one expected—through a series of intimate photos posted on Instagram. They felt raw, real, and unlike other polished celebrity relationships.
“I was nervous,” T.O.P admitted. “Not because I was ashamed—but because I knew how people might react. I knew what it meant to expose something so personal in a place where people think they have the right to dissect every part of your life.”
Y/N, however, had a different perspective. “She told me, ‘Why should we hide something that makes us happy?’ And she was right,” he said. “For so long, I lived in fear of what people would say. But love isn’t something to be ashamed of. If anything, it’s something to be proud of.”
Now, with both Exile and Squid Game, their love story is no longer a secret—but he’s still extremely protective of it. “I don’t need people to approve,” he said. “I just need her.”
Looking Ahead
As our conversation started nearing its end, I asked him what he hoped people will take away from his return.
“I don’t expect everyone to forgive me, and I don’t expect to go back to who I was before. That person is gone,” he said. “But I hope people will listen. Not just to the music, but to the story behind it. I hope they see that exile isn’t the end—it’s just another beginning.”
With Exile set to drop and his acting career reignited, T.O.P is stepping into the spotlight once again—not as the idol he once was, but as an artist and a man who has found his way back from the shadows.
——————————————————————————————————
I wanted to write that little article portion because I wanted to add something unique to this fic, this part is also why I took a little long to post something new !! I haven’t written like an actual piece of writing on this account so I’m like excited and nervous at the same time lol. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it !! xx
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gnohomotho · 2 days ago
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Just a game (part 4) ۶ৎ
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Pairing: Hwang In-ho // The Front Man x fem!reader Summary: After losing your consciousness in his arms, you are at the mercy of In-ho, a man you don't, as far as you know, even know the face of. Yet he has shown you more than one, perhaps even his true visage - through the touch and the inner machinations that are tearing at his heart. The rules of the game are slipping, the Front Man is grabbing at control, making sure the field is level for you to be his. It begins with yours, then shifts to In-ho's point of view - double the fun. Warnings: And it is still the God damn Front Man Although darker, the chapter(s) carry an odd amount of fluff along with quite a bit of angst. Quite a bit of voyeurism, descriptions of naked bodies and lust, mentions of SA (very light, only hinted at), touch, need, drugging people, dubious consent at best. Medical malpractice and ignorance of the ethical codex. Word count: 6.4k A/N: I would apologise for the word count, and I will. (ᵕ—ᴗ—) But if I had either, I would really put my heart and soul into this work, so it's not quite the usual gorgeous fanfic that starts fast and ends with hot, steamy, angsty sex and eternal love. I wanted to flesh out characters, from you, to In-ho himself - keep it in character yet write a believable Front Man struggling with both himself, his present, his past, and you - a woman he is falling madly in love with. If you like my work, I appreaciate every single heart // repost // reblog // follow // message! ♥ Thank you! ♥ Link to previous Link to next
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Running, running. Tripping. Something catching up. Running. You have to run up. Up! Feet tangled, barbed wire, cannot run, hot, warm, soaking--- A figure in the distance. Clad in white. Run to him. Run to him. Something catching up. Sharp pain. Wet. From stomach down down down. Copper, sticking, limbs, slow. The figure is an illusion. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Darkness. Enveloped. A cape. Over you. Pulled away. Collapsed. Earth. Swallowed. Mud. The cawing of a----
Your eyes flutter open. In the long distance, so far away yet so shrill, you hear the cawing of a crow.
The harshness and fervour trickles through your swollen, heavy mind full of cotton and icy rivers of forgetting.
Groggy, tired, stiff, everything seems so blurry and pushed away from your consciousness. Your hands feel like cold, empty plastic, and you cannot lift them.
The flat light in the ceiling feels awful, all a dream; such a loud, piercing, horrible dream. Saying nothing. Screaming.
In the distance, the crow caws once more, and you grab onto the sound like an anchor to remain grounded. At least enough to assess the damage.
There’s a blanket over you, you wiggle the tips of your toes to feel the fabric all the way down. Thank god. Covered. All covered. Even so, trying to mentally tun through your form, you feel the softness cover something foreign, something that isn’t you. Your skin prickles and repels all it touches.
All it touches. Even you.
Don’t move. In the back of your sleepy mind, no matter how tired, how tranquilized. You know. You know it’s an advantage to play dead or sleeping.
Voices. Seeping in like an echo of static.
“Contacts taken care of…no issues…family? No, of course not…”
“Observation. Rather not....”
A voice you recognize.
“I would be inclined to disagree.”
Footsteps. You close your eyes, hard, and try to steady your heart – it wasn’t catching up to the situation anyway. Everything threatens to spin the moment you see nought but darkness; you could be floating ten miles deep in the ocean. Marine snow and all-encompassing darkness, no breath, no hope, only cold and squids. Suffocating, oppressive, swallowing you whole....back, come back, focus, stay, lights behind your eyelids swirling and blue exchanging black; your ears are ringing, and you seem to be drifting away again until---
Touch. Your plastic hand feels touch.
Electricity momentarily flutters across your fingertips and travels up your forearm. You want nothing more but to pull away, but keep up your pretence. You hear a steadied breath, quiet, controlled. Skipping a tad towards the end of the exhale, as if steadying itself. The presence, the scent, all is familiar yet oddly intertwined. Signals jamming before they reach their destination.
The messages fly but the network is down.
You hear an inhale and what could be a sigh. You’re very unsure whether it is exasperated or elated, but you don’t welcome either.
It makes way for a voice that reminds you of all-concealing frost coating barbed wire.
“Rest. Rest, little one. Everything is being taken care of.”
You feel naked fingers trail up around your knuckles, softly drawing on your skin. They then travel down the back of your hand, following your veins, down to your wrist and back once more. The motion repeats, you feel light nudges of warmth alternating with tingles freezing your neck down to your pillow. Your breath is threatening to give you away, you ever so slightly, unnoticeably open your lips so that your chest remains quiet and does not harbour nor exhale too much air. You're nervous, you're worried, you’re catching fire while submerged in ice please stop, stop touching me, hold me, go away, hold me, I'm scared, I'm scared, kiss me, go away, hold away the cold, go away, go away, hold me, go away...
The errant hand finishes its last motion by enveloping yours entirely, and remaining firmly in place as his other hand joins it around your own.
The slow caressing motion alleviates nothing of your petrified, electrified thoughts and current racing through your chest. The caress touches over, under, holding in secure warmth as it brushes coarse fingertips along your cold skin. Two fingers slowly, slowly leave the sanctuary of your intertwined palms and journey up your arm, stopping at the crane of your joint, and touch something new – circle the little scar – and travel safely down again. Leaving a trail of exposed electrical wiring.
Firm sensations of those errant palms circle yours – touching, teasing, exploring – and clasp around their newfound plastic extremity. Rough to the touch, yet gentle; cold at first, but firmly creating heat against your skin leaving no gap for air or intrusion.
One disadvantage to feigning unconsciousness is only having a single card to play, while the other party holds the entire deck. Hell, the other party is free to choose the game, you can't see nor protest.
A disadvantage you will soon discover.
As you command your chest to fall, your limbs to lay, and your breath to steady, you realise something that sends slow, sharp nails of a chill through your spine.
Silence.
No touch.
No noise.
Your brain threatens to drift again, half in lack of grounding, half in panic. Perhaps one more card is simply known as 'fainting your way out of the problem', though it needs to be played repeatedly and usually ends in a game over.
You hear nothing stretching the moment, then the next, then the next...nothing since the hand slid away from your own and left an icy vacancy spreading across your skin.
༻❁༺
Seconds tick by, no sound.
No other voices.
No steps, no commotion, no normal noises.
This is bad. You figured a hospital would sound like a hospital, you'd even welcome rudeness or cussing, you'd even welcome your family, anything that slightly resembles a maquette of normality – this just emanates kidney theft and human trafficking. Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Minutes tick by, had he managed to leave so quietly? Perhaps you misheard. Perhaps you were still groggy and your senses too dull. Perhaps---
Face.
Oh no.
A sensation on your face almost, almost pushes your eyes open – but you catch the flinch at the last second – it seems your tiredness and lack of reflexes add a single card to your deck.
Trying very hard not to squirm or pull away, you begin to feel soft, gentle brushes upon your face. The first brush kisses your cheeks, lingering on your skin as if testing, feeling, trying not to scare a fledgling bird.
Then it begins to trace its warmth down around your cheekbones, threading little shapes along your facial lines; then back again in a very intimate, repetitive motion. There…and back.
There. And back.
Timid, at first, light as if sensing for an exposed wire just below the surface. Longer and reassured as his precise fingers repeat their pendulum-like movements. You tried not to feel nice. But truth be told, if you erased all else, all other variables, the entire scene, it was…
Soft, like the feathers of a baby owl, careful, like the tool of a jeweller dusting a delicate stone, and simply…warm. Caring. Studying.
Affectionate in its detail.
The fingertips slowly circle your eyes and run meticulously along your eyebrows, then return once again to draw light sickles under your eyes. There and back. There and back.
Upon your cheeks, you feel more fingers at once, with more surface area intertwining and dancing with yours. Brushing and caressing, touching as if enjoying the sensation of touch itself for the very first time.
Exploring…curious…
…tender, even.
The tingling sensation moves lower, and you begin to feel the cool tips running down your chin and your jaw, as if he were drawing your portrait with nothing but touch. A single finger copies the shape of your jawbone, and periodically does the same to the other side. Then it repeats the motion with the knuckles of the reverse side of the hand.
The touch grows slower, more pronounced as it travels down your naked neck.
You are trying not to gasp, praying your heart doesn't give you away as his full assured hand rests and traverses your carotid artery, your throat, your tingling muscles threatening to paralyze or spasm or warm to his touch – all at once. He rests upon the vein, its warmth and beating fervour challenging his still, stoic grasp.  
His hand doesn't linger, though, sending a current and brushing all the way down, forcing warmth to pool in your chest, stopping at the crane of your neck and finding the little dips in your collarbones. Gently circling and caressing the skin over and around them.
Once more you feel the more intimate touch of fingertips, reversing their journey up your neck, this time exploring more fervently. You never realised how slim and small your neck feels, now at the mercy of a hand that could simply…push its fingers down and clench. The tingling in your mind latches onto your growing fear, along with the sensation of care and utter helplessness. The lack of control and tranquil panic, as well as a very subdued, likely drug-induced need for more, create an odd ball of electricity that prickles through your chest and stomach, tingles across your ribs and breasts...
The fingers trail up your neck and stop at your jaw once more, this time changing their journey just a tad. You feel a single finger touch the area just above your lips and gently, slowly, ever so slowly trail down upon them, relishing each prolonged second, finally resting upon your mouth. The motion is as soft and light as a butterfly wing flutter, and lingers – then moves to your lower lip – then rests upon your lips’ entirety, exploring and caressing your mouth. Slowly, everso slowly; for a moment you let yourself dissolve into the lack of differentiation between his touch and your body.
If it was fear, perhaps mixed with sudden entirely mixed signals, perhaps the drugs, perhaps the absolute madness of the situation and the days prior, perhaps your condition, perhaps---you were reacting to his touch. Inside, a pool became a current, a slowly awakening tide; and he seemed to harbour a single full moon’s pull in each fingertip.
The sensation of cloth slipping from your skin alert you out of your trance to newly exposed areas grabbed and unwrapped by a sudden tendril of cold air.
This time, you fail to control your reflexes, your entire body tensing and reacting to the shiver that runs through your entire being.
Both the touch and moment cease, abruptly; your lips left cold once more in one swift retraction.
A click of a heel, then another hits the ground. As if he were stepping away. Yet still. Slowly. Quickened heart, errant thoughts, bad scenarios, needs you had buried and mourned a long time ago all try to either scream or calm at once, leading to a very simple short-circuit. How you hated being watched, how you hated being helpless, you think, how you hated being a toy for another old man’s perverted game, as your chest refuses to calm down again. Vulnerable and watched. Exposed. Ashamed. And now. Your disguise is compromised.
This is absolutely an unsatisfactory bitch of a situation, and I truly wish to scream.
But the tiredness clings to you, head spinning in a mixture of chemicals and your own sensations, responses, needs, and fear. In contrast to his touch, false or not, your mind is a battlefield; everyone is bleeding or entirely delirious. Clinging to something, anything, you try to think – this is a reaction, it is expected. The mad ones, shaking, rocking back and forth crying for comfort; perhaps the man with a mind empty living on nothing but twisted memories and dissociation wherein hope itself became a troublesome burden, or the soldier climbing out into machine gun fire to throw grenades into the enemy’s dugout shouting fox-hunting hymns and laughing. All reactions. All understandable. But not mine. Nothing bad is happening. Nothing bad happened. I am so, so, so very stupid. Why did he not hurt me? Why did he not hold me? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Trying not to cry in a situation as messed up as this leaves you a husk. Tired. In the end. You want to go home. Just be safe. Never mind the place does not exist, just…safe.
Death seems safe, could he not had done the kindness of finishing the job? Why drag it out?
Slipping away, now that he is no longer guiding your spirit back to your skin wherever he brings warmth and well-acted care, you try to calm and not replay the prickles of anticipation fingering strings echoing a darker tune within your heart’s chamber.
One more thing worried you. Even before he came in, you tried to wiggle your fingers to feel for fabric and familiarity of finite objects, but it took you...too long. Barely one, two, lifted at all. Your mind was not there – barely visiting – but you hoped at least primal programming would kick in. Yet your hand felt foreign, not there, lifeless, intruding…plastic.
The more you focused on it, the less its edges resembled something corporal. As if you were dissolving in a blurry river eating you up, flesh and bone, in quiet indifference. There was a prickle in your arm, but you could not look nor check to reach it. And it worried you.
Steps away. Growing quieter and quieter, reverberating in the hall away from you.
Finally you let your chest fall in a sigh of nervous, utterly desperate relief – you listen to your own shivers as it lifts and contracts and almost suffocates you in a chaotic rhythm to the beat of your heart which is threatening its own eviction. The sound of your hurried breathing fills the room, and you latch onto it as one of the few molecules of validation of reality itself – you, you being alive, you being absolutely screwed, and you…you being on the brink teetering over.
༻❁༺
More footsteps.
Oh come on. Please. One molestation a day is enough.
But these fall faster, the manner hurried, even, and far heavier and clunkier than the calculated steps of your haptic visitor.
"Y/N?? Y/N?"
Urgent. Muffled. There.
Then quieter, a mixture of assertiveness and obedience, attempting to be polite but unable to reign in the emotions guiding his intonation.
"Are you sure I can come in, I know her code, she always uses the same number...is she alright?!"
Oh no. No. What have you done, Y/N, what have you done...you getting hurt? Fine, your business, your currency. But never collateral, never...you stupid, stupid---get out!
"Are you sure I can see her? I'm not...related or her boyfriend, husband, I just...can I see her? It's urgent, I can tell you all her needs, her medication, I think, just, just please let me see her and see she's ok..."
That voice. The code. Of course, you always filled out hospital forms with the same four-digit code, so that your family, should they even attempt the incredible labour of picking up a phone to check on their daughter, would get no medical nor personal information. The funny thing was, anyone who'd known you for more than five minutes and bothered to listen to you would know that number – it's nothing but a year you hold dear.
Hurried steps and suddenly an urgent stop before you.
"Y/N? Can you hear me? Shit, kurvadopichi, Y/N?"
The voice, muffled by what you hope is only a surgical mask, turns away from you as the sentence concludes. Are you not alone? With a tiny glimpse of hope comes the thing to gouge it right back out of your eyes. Is this an entertaining game?! Steadying yourself at the very least mentally, thinking it’s just another hurdle and then you may act, you rationalize that his frenzied steps masked another set in their wake.
"She's never actually fainted or lost consciousness for long, she lies down and it gets better...what's going on? Can she hear me? Do prdele, Y/N..."
Just as you would move your lips to assure, to warn, to react, your effort comes to a halt in a single fleeting moment.
"She's going to be alright."
Ice. Ice on your back, ice enveloping your shoulders, ice going straight for your tender brain. That voice. It didn’t matter how muffled or how level, how sickeningly in character – that voice, so close to someone you hold dear, destroyed your last speckle of hope with unceremonious indifference. And it continued, teasing in its role. The cards, the game, your dear ones’ safety – all in his hands.
"Just a bit fragile. She took a nasty fall on our walk and in her condition, the doctor was forced to provide a heavier analgesic dose." A soft but serious humm circles your ears and almost makes you sick. “I was concerned, and further examination…proved me quite correct.” His voice seemed as violating as his fingers, his words and their meaning following suit as the realisation slowly dawned on you.
"She should be enjoying a long, deserved rest."
I’ll give you a long-deserved rest---but the softness in your dear friend’s words threads through your make-believe fighting spirit leaving only helpless sadness. You want him to be safe, you want him far away from here, you want to…you want him to go home.
"Can she...hear me? Can she hear the crows at least? Y/N, I'm sorry, I should have done something...I knew it was getting bad, but…” That strong, shaky breath you know so well breaks your heart. This is all your fault, all of it. Your housemate keeps it together quite well, but when he doesn’t…
“I missed you, Y/N, your tea is getting cold, I'll make you ten more if you come home."
The air seemed to stiffen, somehow, the walls swallowing the echo of his tender words. The silence clung heavily to every inch of you, your kind housemate utterly unaware. Oh Lubi, please stop that, stop saying that, digging a grave, digging digging...
“I know you hate being touched, Y/N, I know I made it worse, but imagine I’m holding your hand.”
The atmosphere stiffened further; it could be carved with a butterknife. Your housemate utterly blissfully unaware – but at least your body and your hands remain untouched.
“Just like you held mine two days ago – sitting on that floor – you helped me back from something awful – and you did it smiling. You told me it’s ok. That if it gets bad again, you’ll be there. The hallway will still be there. The floor will still be there. And it’ll be ok. Well, it’s not ok, the hallway is empty, and you’re not there, and I...I know I said a lot, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
And you did it high as a kite on pain meds that weren’t doing a thing, terrified that you’re going to fall over, terrified of being selfish and so utterly tired of remaining here, and not at all wishing to touch nor be touched. But you’d do it again and a flame of defiance rose in your still chest. Your friend continued, still entirely unaware but his voice sounded…so worried. Worried about the wrong thing, the wrong person, please get out!
“…And I said you’re going to be a wonderful therapist. Well, you are. But. That lady needs to be alive and conscious, not all your clients can be dead – and I can look after you.” He tried to laugh, but you heard the sadness in his voice, the anxious hope and abandon – heart on his sleeve.
“…We figured out hugs after your first two operations, even if I had to annex a public bench, we can figure anything out. Just come home, please. All the soup. All the tea. All the tenderness.” He’s using our special things, he’s trying to put all our shared gestures and inside language into the room, you realise.
And it works. Pushing that tight, suffocating atmosphere back like a storm cloud faltering in the warm wind, revealing a few speckles of light. Even ending on a word you cherish so much. Tenderness. Tenderness of patient minds. He remembered. You must react, before he gets hurt. Perhaps some kind of signal, something, or just yell at him to get out and call the police as he runs, spring up like a reanimated corpse and warn him---before a voice cuts through the room and pushes your head firmly underwater:
"I don't think she's able to say anything."
The command and threat were so clear they might as well have kicked you in the head.
"If she knows what's good for her delicate state, and the delicate state of you, young man, unfortunately, she won't respond to you."
༻❁༺
Silence. You managed nothing. Little speckles of tears sting in the corners of your eyes.
The bed creaks and its weight shifts, you no longer care if you’re seen nor awake, you are done. The feelings of anticipation and yearning, cut off, replaced by touch hiding poison and likely nothing but possessive depravity won’t leave you. You feel so stupid, so helpless, so useless – now you are worried for your friend, knowing that you put him in direct line of fire while trying to get shot yourself.
“Are you awake, miss Y/N?”
Unmuffled and clear, you would almost welcome the familiarity. Almost. While your brain searches for a hint of danger or reason to discredit – but no. This person did not hurt you, as far as you know. Not directly. He probably had no choice; you heard that voice, you heard the threats aimed at you.
Your eyes slowly open.
From the blurry white background and slowly manifesting reality, the first thing your adjusting eyes truly encounter are two dark, heavy pools, staring directly into you.
The same, darker lips, the polite, resting demeanour, the studious expression conveying patience and concern.
And the lines carved into a face you would have, in a different life, wished to see smile.
No malice rests in those dark pools, no possessiveness. Only calm. He would almost look…troubled, were he not reassuring. You wonder whether he’s reassuring you or himself, and shift in an attempt to lift your body into a sitting position.
You fail as your elbows give in under you with an unceremonious thump. You notice his hand instinctively react but retract almost as fast.
Slowly, as if to convey safety and distance, he moves away from the bed and walks around you, stands ever-so-close, carefully adjusting your pillow without directly touching you. As he is still in your peripheral vision, your arm prickles, though, but you cannot turn your head to see why. Perhaps the cold air of the pillow-moving motion. The arm feels cold, but you’re too enveloped in finally being able to see. And you look away, as gravity hits you again.
“I…I can’t move. My friend. Please…I…don’t hurt him.”
The man gently moves the blanket across your arm again where it fell in your first futile lift attempt, but does not linger and does not touch you. You welcome the gesture, heart melting a tad. Still a frozen, trepidating husk though. He sits at the edge of the bed once more, the blanket firmly dividing you. You managed to shift into a half sitting position, pillow doing most of the work. You feel vulnerable but…momentarily safe. His quiet voice does not disturb that peace, and once more, you feel your heart crack a small piece of ice away. 
“I’m sorry, the boss was only making sure you’re taken care of, including your loved ones. He would prefer them not to worry.”
Nor raise alarms when someone who is never late suddenly racks up a two-day delay.
“So he’s not hurt?”
A crow caws in the distance. You stare at him from your vulnerable position, still almost unable to move your head.
His eyes convey something you…you are surely imagining.
But you would get pulled in, in your desperate, wistful state; should his hand rest on yours now, you would use all the warning lights as a checkpoint for a modicum of safety and care. Helplessness is a feeling you dread, loss of control and swimming with the current a means of survival; yet now you feel your hands tied and the tug of someone at the other end.
And that is worse.
His gaze softens, with a glimmer of something you cannot quite figure out – a spark of something darker, but it disappears like a glint of snow falling off a streetlamp.
“Of course not. The boss decided against doing anything against your will.”
Sure he did. Because all of this screams consent.
“From what he’s shared with me, I understand that violation would not be fair on you. He only intended to give you the best care, and was concerned you would wish against the gesture.”
Your body viscerally reacts to the word, violation…and he’s right, of course. Though you cannot check or move, you know your body very well, and it wasn’t reacting in a way that…reminded you of anything. Hence, the surface level touch and some prickles were the most you can recognize, so far. But you’re not ok. This is not ok. He’s speaking as if this was all fine, as if all this was a gesture of kindness and selfless empathy when it’s the polar opposite. Even tired, your voice carries your doubts and your sincere condemnation of both him and his boss.
“Kind not-named-sir, I can’t move. Someone likely drugged me. Someone threatened my friend in front of me so I would comply. I don’t know what’s going on and I still cannot move.” You leave out the touching for obvious reasons. You try to remain calm, but you wish to scream. His calm, almost thoughtful demeanour fuelling the sense that this situation is wrong. The man shifts, eyes closing and softening a tad. If he was pretending, he must be investing a lot of energy into keeping up the pretence.
“I’m sure the boss did not wish for that, only your safety.” The low humm permeates your ears, almost soothingly so; you study the soft lines in his face and rest upon them, noticing the contrast of his dark hair and stoic visage, which breaks in the pragmatic softness of his tone each time he speaks.
“To be quite honest, if I may…” his dark eyes slowly move and stare at the blanket across your stomach area and you lift your eyebrows, “someone close to him shared your condition. Judging by the scars,” his hand hovers above the left side of your pelvic bone, up a tad, extending a finger in the general area and moving to your stomach, “you share the repeated attempts and lack of results.”
Just as you were warming to his words and finding some solace, water falls on your little fire.
“Please don’t remind me, kind-not-named-sir, those times weren’t nice.” Should have bribed the anaesthesiologist, you half-mumble to yourself. Did you imagine a soft chuckle escape his lips? You feel…odd. Tingly. Light. Restful.
“I know. The boss shared inklings of what you’ve been through. Alone. It makes sense that he chose a lack of violation before any further steps.” His hand retracted, but rested ever-so-slightly against the blanket barrier of your hips. With all you can, you muster and command your right arm to lift, sliding across the surface of the bed, the blanket, and finally, finally able to rest upon and protect your stomach. The gesture seemed to ignite something in your visitor, the same way a crow caw caught your attention – interest, fondness, recognition.
༻❁༺
Further steps.
༻❁༺
Oh, that gesture.
That gesture that first caught his attention, and the fire in those deep, doe eyes that kept it.
Even helpless, more helpless than you knew, you did not give in, not letting him fool or scare you. There was something in your eyes and in the way your body lay, in the way it reacted to his touch ever-so-lightly that truly intrigued him.
In-ho was playing a game, yet felt like a player himself. And for once, the stakes truly were high – there was no protection for him here. He knowingly put something on the line, something in those chips, in those cards sprawled on the table, and unsure of its gravity, he was mindfully reaching for currents knowing they'd slip through his fingers.
Patience, he mused.
Patience, creating a refuge in No Man’s Land, a small dugout barely concealing you, but it was patience and serenity in a moment where you should be panicking and begging. His mind wandered to the moment you fell against him, alone in the room, utterly his to do with as he pleases.
And you looked…serene.
The back of your head fell softly against his hand, and he guided it to his chest. Letting go of the needle, he held you in both his gloved hands – realising how delicate and how tender your features are against his. How utterly his you are right now, how much control he exudes. Slowly those wrinkles of concern disappeared from your forehead, and he rested your head under his chin as his hands almost unwittingly caressed your head through your hair, which fell upon his chest like a cascading river. As you drifted away, you smiled, and he knew his words reached you in the darkness. Smiling, delicate, utterly his.
༻❁༺
In-ho walks through the scenes of you, his mind a current of many rivers traversing and flowing their waters into one undiscernible, all-permeating flood. It’s not confusion, it’s not desire, it’s not nothing, it’s not everything and yet…
“Her kind, not-named sir…” he whispers to himself.
When he saw your body, laying there, helpless…one river, clear and slow, pure and trickling patiently, brought with it slight worry, a twinge of doubt, even...an odd sense of compassion. Almost as if he were doing something…wrong and kicking up mud in such translucent waters.
Perhaps it was the white blanket, the way your hair rested on the pillow, the way your pallor reflected the harsh blue light above you – it felt like a desecration.
In-ho’s mind attempted to bring up his dream, but he firmly pushed it back. His eyes darted to your stomach, though he tried to tell himself it was merely interest. He already gave you such kindness, such benevolence; interest should be the least of his transgressions. Trailing dark eyes down the convex dip between your pelvic bone, the small mound of your stomach and up your ribs, all draped in white, his cold gaze stopped at your face.
That beautiful, peaceful face…In-ho’s thoughts entered his mind before he could dismiss them as he had his dreams. You could have been dreaming yourself, he thought, the dose he gave you was too strong.
Dreaming of him. Perhaps. Dreaming of something where nothing hurt. In-ho's eyes momentarily softened as he recalled the feeling of your hair falling against his chest.
The way you let him hold you as your consciousness slipped from your delicate fingertips, the way you trusted him even as he administered the very thing that laid you bare before him, at his mercy. You trusted and smiled up at him. Not naïveté. Not quite abandon. As if you forgave the river, accepted your fate, and let the current carry you on, understanding the full consequence of cruelty and indifference…yet beauty and tranquillity…of the pull.
Did In-ho wish you to rest? Truly? Or was it a wish to violate you further without consequence.
The other river, dark, deep, carrying things that tear flesh and stone alike apart without care nor sound shared its waters with his mind. A gloved hand cupping that face and seeing nought but fear and cold realisation in those eyes. Giving you a glint of hope and throwing it in the depths, with you to follow. To take you, hollow you out with his own desire and momentary need, and cast you away empty and cracked. The same as the others. A body on the pile.
Or was it a simple tool for observation to examine without disturbing the scene.
Examine and change the past. By using an unassuming, naïve nothing that can't live in the present.
In-ho stepped closer. Too many rivers. The more he tried to clean his mind in the dark depths of depravity, the more your tender, vulnerable, yet serene form pulled him out and firmly pushed his head into clearer waters. Another was flowing behind him, he barely noticed, tried not to notice – for every river of forgetting is a river of remembrance. His own life, before all this. A woman still and beautiful, draped in white. Head uncovered. Head uncovered.
He wondered if you could hear him, know of his presence.
In-ho quietly searched your skin and your body for signals, your chest for soft lifting with rhythmic breath, your lips, for quivering and blood circling their red lines, for eyes twitching at the change of air. The way your lashes almost unnoticeably stirred each time your heart sent life through your body, like tiny flower stems in the breeze.
Perhaps by accident, perhaps after reading too much about you, he remembered a sentence from the book he bestowed upon you, knowing you carry the poems in your heart. Nothing but a poem by a soldier telling his loved one stuck in the same hell to please not sleep in such a position, pulling at In-ho to wish to shake your shoulder and hear you gasp.
You are too young to fall asleep forever, And when you sleep, you remind me of the dead.
Though guarded, frozen, In-ho told himself, to keep away the rot, his heart was pumping. Warmth began to twitch in his fingertips as he stepped closer. A pull from your still, innocently dreaming form.
Examination, nothing more.
Your skin reacted to him, even if you had no power nor idea in his mind. Your skin touched his just as he touched you, and it felt like the most natural state of being while the curiosity of sensing something entirely novel held his interest.
In-ho quite simply did not wish to let you go, and he himself could not decipher why – leading him to allow something he would never forgive, never permit, never even think to partake in himself: he loosened his self-control and let the river, no matter which, swallow him whole. A small universe with a serene girl, her delicate form, their shared touch, clandestine and safe to dissolve with.
When your lips parted, he noticed. He noticed the tender curve and the sharp intake of a tiny, almost unnoticeable breath – and his entire hand tensed down to his shoulder. That face. So very close, every feature resting before him.
Tender, supple, inviting lips, a tiny opening, a small signal for him – and only for him. You were reacting to him. You were aware of him. You were giving yourself to him.
Inviting him.
When In-ho let his warmth rest upon your neck, his hand such a sharp contrast to your pallor and softness, exacerbated by the length and fragility of your neck, he almost did not pull away. The gentle thump against his palm, against the roughness of his own skin, the utter control he had over your body and mind in that moment.
As intoxicating as it was sacred, he blinked slowly and forced his arm to move down, down…curling those fingers as if threading your fleeting warmth, his own body so close to yours he could feel you.
He heard your fast, steady breaths and listened for them, In-ho’s own shallow breathing losing itself in you. He noticed the shiver each time you reacted to him. Your skin begging him to remain, your warmth circling to his touch.
Hwang In-ho, in a state of almost mesmerised calm, beaten at with desire and need to both protect and desecrate; to remain far yet be one with you, gripped the corner of the blanket resting beside your hand.
And pulled.
Before the stark shiver and rough intake of breath broke the illusion, In-ho was left at the mercy of your beautiful, level shoulders, the full extent of your neck and collarbones guiding his eyes along their fully exposed length, the gentleness of pale flesh contrasting those petite yet infinitely resilient blue highways running through and circling your nape, your sternum, precisely delineating your throat as if to guide and protect, yet circling and branching under his gaze as if to underline your resolute fragility.
In-ho followed their course running along your ribs, the sharp downturn below them, down, down – the very top of your chest pulsating with new breath, controlled struggle, suffocating need, all his doing – all his--- In-ho’s eyes unwittingly drew down to your breasts, now half uncovered, and drank in the softness and electricity circling their supple pink contrast.
Quivering under him.
Just as the river pulled him under, he caught an errant branch and lifted above the feeling. He sharply retracted his arm, and placed his other directly to his side, straightening to his full height above you.
Tender flower, tender flower…needn’t be picked half wilted.
But your image remained with him, you walked with him as he took in your friend, it walked along his side when he lifted his arm to open a door, your skin still directly upon his. Your scent, your shiver, your presence never left him. Perhaps that is why nought but fire caught his mind when hearing your friend speak.
No longer only insolence, but a feeling In-ho decided to call discontent clouded the entire room. A very kind euphemism for the darkness enveloping his mind as he looked at the unassuming young man heaping praises and sweet nonsense at you.
Shielding you from him.
Taking away the sanctity In-ho had momentarily built with you and allowed to blossom in the millimetres between your bodies, your skin, to fill your head and mind with frivolous, cheap, pathetic babbling.
All he needed here was access to you and the fooling of your close circles, but in that moment, he knew all it would take was a gesture of his gloved hand. Watching the back of your friend’s head, his unassuming golden hair threatening to brush you, In-ho almost threw the game away.
Whether for the words or the touch, he was furious – at his own reaction to you, but that anger adequately transferred to a young man obviously caring too much for you, too much for mere friendship.
In-ho knew enough about him, he studied you after all, but from your messages, from your correspondence to other people, from watching you…no, he is nothing, nothing of a threat. The young man is a means to an end, and In-ho can take care of him later. Yet the fire enveloping his heart did nothing but let the frost ossify it in place.
That little place in your arm where you couldn’t quite see. That little place with a small opening, a little plastic cannula nested in you, would need another strong dose of something else. Something to keep you…docile yet…his.
Of your own free will.
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therealscraft · 14 hours ago
Text
GOD I HATE THESE GAYASS HOES MAN
like ok heres the thing. inho infiltrated the games to earn gihuns trust and then break him and get him on his side right. ok. but he didnt have to do everything he did.
like, he didnt have to defend him so threateningly against player 100 (arguably... possessively... like bro he aint going NOWHERE calm your ass DOWN!!!) or like, he didnt have to call him 'gihun', he couldve, SHOULD HAVE, called him 'hyung', but he calls him fucking??? gi-hun-shi?????? INSANE BEHAVIOUR.
he didn't HAVE to smile at him then, so bright-eyed. he didn't have to share his tragic backstory. he didn't even have to fucking help him with the revolution, he didn't have to shoot his guards he could've pretended to be a terrible shot. he could've betrayed him anytime and yet chose to maintain his mystery until he got away from gi-hun and FAKED HIS DEATH. like what possibly could he gain from this?? gi-hun must find out who he is sooner or later, who cares if it's sooner??
HE CARES. HE. CARES. whether you view them romantically or not, in-ho CARES. there's a piece of him that plays into this entire inner conflict that makes him CARE. FOR GI-HUN. HE CARES FOR GI-HUN even to SOME degree. and that is INSANE to me.
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