to be seen without performing. to be heard without screaming. to be missed without disappearing. to be enough without proving it. to be held without falling apart. to be understood without explaining. to be wanted without conditions. to be. to be.
In-Ho remains still for a moment, simply watching you. He would find himself doing that a lot more of late.He savors the sound of your voice, sweet and clear in the tranquility of his room. “You’ve had quite the pensive look on your face. Something of maybe... a thousand words." You say and In-Ho cocks his head. A bemused look in his eyes. “Is it that obvious?” He rises up from where he was sitting to approach you. Each measured step closing the distance between you two. His gaze roams over the form of you for a few long, lingering moments. He notes not for the first time the elegant line of your profile. His gaze trails down and notes the buttons of your blouse left undone.
In-Ho reaches out and gently tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. His long fingers would brush along your nape, and lingers a moment against your skin, as if his touch is an afterthought.
He gazes intently into your eyes. He can see you thinking something, can see the cogs of your mind working behind those irises.
Perhaps it’s the intimacy of the soft light, or maybe it was simply the lingering thought for how long it’s been since he’s been so near.
And suddenly, all he can think about is how you’ve wormed your way into his life. How you've made yourself a part of his very being.
♡⃕.pairing: Husband!Salesman x Wife!Reader
♡⃕.synopsis: life with your husband.
♡⃕.word count: 1.4k+
♡⃕.content warning: a little suggestive if you squint, arranged marriage.
The corner of his lips twitched as a hint of a smirk danced upon his lips. He had been watching you since the onset of morning. There was just something so…so captivating about the way you moved, the subtle grace of your mannerisms.
He supposed, it was the simple things that enticed him the most.
Tearing his gaze away, he rose and crossed the room to the mahogany desk; a silent cue for you to do the same.
"I suppose we shall get to know each other better?" You propose.
He watched silently as you stood and approached the desk.
This arrangement, it was strange, unconventional. And yet, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to abhor the idea of spending every day, every hour in your company.
"Oh yeah? Is that what you want?" He was somewhat bemused by your suggestion.
You were hardly the type inclined toward the idea of matrimony, and neither was he. But here you were, his wife. His wife—the term sounded foreign upon his tongue.
He regarded you with a stoic eye, head canted slightly to the side. He was trying to figure you out, to understand the machinations of your mind. Such a task was seemingly monumental, no doubt, by the way of your closed off demeanor, a quiet, stoic disposition. But that was all the more reason he wished to figure you out.
You were... intriguing.
Days had come and gone since their first conversation.
He had, for the most part, settled into this married life quite well.
There was something soothing, peaceful, about the quiet domesticity of it all. Both you and him became acutely aware of each other's presence.
They say familiarity bred contempt, but for you and him, it bred something much different.
Every now and then, he would recall the subtle slope of your nose, the elegant dip of your shoulders, the way the sunlight pooled upon your skin… It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to ravish you there and then.
He had always thought of himself as an individual who could not possess emotions such but it wasn’t just carnal desire that he felt, rather, there was a certain depth to this feeling. A feeling he wasn’t quite able to place.
He tried to push away those thoughts as best as he could, but in the hours at night when he laid in bed, with you so close, it became harder to shut you out.
He laid awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep and plagued with the memory of your smile, the way you laughed, the scent of your hair- Wait.
"Can't sleep?" You ask, looking back at him.
The abrupt voice broke him from his trance. And then he groaned for the second time that night. He remained motionless for a few moments and then he rolls over, only to find you staring back at him from the other side of the bed.
”Clearly, neither can you…” He said, raking a hand through his rumpled hair which earned a chuckle from you.
The corner of his lips quirked into a smirk as the sound of your laughter reached his ears. He propped himself up on one elbow, studying you in the dim light. There was something rather enthralling about seeing you like this, all relaxed and vulnerable in the quiet night.
“I’d ask why you can’t sleep, but I think I already know the answer,” He teased.
"Oh yeah? What do you think is the cause?" You ask, smiling softly.
“You don’t seem to have much trouble sleeping during the day, when the sun is out. But come night time, suddenly there’s a change." He responded without a bit of hesitation. He wasn’t one to sugarcoat after all.
“You’re nervous about this new... condition, and about the future, and, if I’m not mistaken…a little scared of me,” He said, glancing back at you.
His words earned a huff from you. "Scared of you?"
His smirk widens into a sly smile as he props himself up on an elbow. He meets your gaze, regarding you with a keen eye.
“You are,” He states bluntly, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
“I can see that little shiver that goes through your spine every time I touch you. That little bit of hesitation in your movements whenever I’m around.”
Oh.
When he suggested leaving the house “to get some air” on a Friday evening, you didn’t think much of it.
After all, for the first few weeks after marriage, he had spent his days working and evenings on the armchair by the fire. However, the last thing you had expected was to be led out the door and into his black car.
A date—was, and is, the furthest thing you had expected from a reserved man like your husband.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. A man as stoic and reserved as he, nervous for a date? Who would’ve thought.
He had never been the romantic sort, too occupied in work and realistic for the idea of romance.
You tried to catch a glimpse of his expression from the passenger seat, but he was avoiding your gaze at all costs. Not a word was spoken, only the steady hum of the engine was heard as the scenery passed by.
Eventually, he pulled into a secluded spot overlooking a shimmering lake. A modest family-run restaurant on the edge of town.
He gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you after. And as you get out of the car, you are quick to glance around and take in your surroundings. Expensive.
The restaurant looked modest and homey, quaint even. You watch as he speaks a word to the waiter who leads the two of you to a secluded table.
He gestures to the table and pulls out your chair for you.
A soft “thank you” escapes your lips in response as you sink into the seat, before he takes his own seat across from you. He reaches for the wine list, scanning it before ordering a bottle of red.
"Do you plan on staying this quiet, or...?" You ask, biting back a teasing smile.
So she hasn't quite lost her bite, then. He leans back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, a sign of feigned aloofness. "Perhaps I'll save my tongue for our food." He said.
"Boring." You comment, watching as the waiter approached with a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses.
You took the glass, now filled with wine and brought it towards your lips, glancing at him.
"Boring, eh?" He asks. "Maybe I should order a second round of drinks just to shut you up," he retorts with a smirk.
"You look a tad too cocky for my liking."
....
It did not take long before the drinks started to get you. You were laughing louder, talking more freely, and your cheeks had taken on a rosy flush. It would almost be cute, were it not so annoying- or so he liked to believe.
He sets the glass down on the table and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Perhaps one drink too many.
He watched you from across the table, the smile never leaving your lips, the glint in your eyes all the more noticeable when your guard was down like this.
"Don't look at me like that." You whispered, swirling the liquid in the glass, your voice slurred.
"And how exactly am I looking at you?" He asked in a low voice, leaning forward ever so slightly.
"Like you want to rip my dress right here, right now." You said, smirking.
He blinked, that little remark sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He tried his damned best not to react, but the words had an immediate effect on him.
"Don’t be ridiculous." He mumbled. But your words were doing all kinds of things him, in all the right places.
And he could only take so much.
And just like that, one last drink, a ride home, a few fumbled steps in the doorway and a heated night later, when you woke up the next morning, you think all of it had been a dream- the dinner date, the alcohol, the lust-filled return home... But the sight of a slender arm curled around your hip said otherwise.
You can't help it, a smile starts to form on your own face. If this was how married life was supposed to be, then you were more than ready to welcome it with open arms.
Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Pregnant!Wife!Reader
Summary: You give in to your late-night pregnancy cravings and slip out quietly, leaving your husband, Hwang In-ho, to wake up in a frenzy when he finds you missing.
Warnings: Angst, Fear of losing someone, grief, pregnancy, cravings, gun, slight fluff, soft-Inho.
Late into the night, you stretch quietly in bed, your mind drifting through sleepy fog and growing sharper with an insistent craving. Turning to your side, you see your husband, Hwang In-ho, sleeping peacefully beside you. The chill of the night air sends shivers down your spine, but the thought of satisfying your craving warms you with determination. The clock reads 2:47 AM.
Knowing how hard In-ho has been working and how much rest he needs, you decide to slip out discreetly, believing you can make it back before he even notices. You pull on a warm coat, gather your essentials, and tiptoe out the door, careful to close it softly behind you.
Hours seem to pass in what feels like minutes. In-ho stirs awake, reaching out to find your side of the bed cold and empty. He blinks groggily, thinking you might be in another room. "Y/N?" he calls softly, expecting a quick reply or the distant hum of your voice.
When no response comes, he rises slowly, the initial calm giving way to a creeping unease. He checks the adjoining bathroom, then the kitchen, and each empty room sends another pang of worry coursing through him. The house feels eerily quiet, and with each step, the calm facade he tried to maintain begins to crack.
As he makes his way through the silent hallways and finds no sign of you anywhere, panic floods through him instantly. Memories of losing his first wife surge into his mind, and the dread of facing the same heart-wrenching loss with you engulfs him like a tidal wave.
Terror grips his chest as he moves more frantically now. "Yeobo?" he calls out again, his voice slicing through the silence like a knife, but only the echo of his own voice answers him back. His heart races uncontrollably as he grabs his phone, his hands shaking with a mix of fear and urgency.
"I can't find my wife," he says, his voice quivering as he speaks to his guards. "Search the building immediately," he commands, his tone rigid and leaving no room for delay. The icy fingers of fear grip his heart, the stakes now higher than ever with the thought of losing you and the baby—his entire world teetering on the brink of uncertainty.
As he listens to the hurried replies of his guards springing into action, he pulls open the drawer beside his bed and grabs his gun, the cold weight of the metal feeling reassuring in his hand. The transformation is swift—his usual calm demeanor gives way to the steely resolve of the Front Man.
He methodically sweeps through the apartment, each shadow and creak heightening his anxiety. Has something sinister befallen you? Could Gi-hun, that determined Player 456, have somehow found you? The uncertainty gnaws at him, each tick of the clock echoing louder in the eerily quiet apartment. His thoughts race wildly, the sense of impending dread building with each passing second.
Just as his mind threatens to overwhelm him, the soft click of the door breaks the silence. He pivots sharply, raising his gun, only to freeze as you step back inside with a small stack of snacks and an apologetic smile. The weight of the moment crashes over him, the relief almost too much to bear.
"In-ho," you start, but the torrent of emotions inside him is already surging to the surface. He lowers the gun, his hands trembling.
"Where were you?" His voice is a mix of anger, relief, and lingering fear. He steps forward, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, ensuring you're really there and unharmed.
"I... I couldn’t sleep," you say softly, holding up the snacks as a peace offering. "I thought some comfort food might help. I’m sorry if I worried you."
He releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the tension in his shoulders slowly fading. He pulls you into a fierce embrace, holding you as if you might disappear if he let go. The feel of you, warm and real in his arms, does more to calm his racing heart than anything else.
"I thought..." his voice breaks, unable to finish the sentence. The memories of his first loss are still too raw, the pain too fresh.
You pull back slightly and cup his face in your hands, your eyes filled with understanding and love. "I'm here. I’m not going anywhere," you reassure him, gently stroking his cheek.
He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. When he opens them, there's a new resolve mirrored in their depths. "Next time, wake me," he pleads softly. "I can't... I won't lose you and the baby. You both mean everything to me."
You nod, your heart aching for the pain he’s been through. "I promise," you whisper, and he takes a deep breath, slowly finding his composure again.
With his arm protectively around you, he leads you back to the bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, reassuring light on your path.
With measured steps, he walks over to the dresser and slides the gun back into the drawer, locking it firmly to ensure it’s secure. The sight of him putting the weapon away brings a greater sense of calm to both of you.
As you reach the bed, he gently guides you to sit on the edge before kneeling in front of you.
His eyes soften as he places his hands on your growing belly, the life inside a beacon of hope amidst his fears. He leans in, tenderly kissing your pregnant belly, a silent vow of protection and love to both you and the unborn child.
"We’re in this together," he murmurs, his lips lingering on your skin. You smile down at him, your hand resting on his head.
Under the covers, he keeps you close, one arm wrapped protectively around you, his hand resting gently on your stomach. The snacks are forgotten on the bedside table as sleep finally takes over, but this time, it’s a peaceful sleep, secure in the knowledge that you’re safe and by his side.
♡⃕.pairing: Husband!Salesman x Wife!Reader
♡⃕.synopsis: life with your husband.
♡⃕.word count: 1.4k+
♡⃕.content warning: a little suggestive if you squint, arranged marriage.
The corner of his lips twitched as a hint of a smirk danced upon his lips. He had been watching you since the onset of morning. There was just something so…so captivating about the way you moved, the subtle grace of your mannerisms.
He supposed, it was the simple things that enticed him the most.
Tearing his gaze away, he rose and crossed the room to the mahogany desk; a silent cue for you to do the same.
"I suppose we shall get to know each other better?" You propose.
He watched silently as you stood and approached the desk.
This arrangement, it was strange, unconventional. And yet, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to abhor the idea of spending every day, every hour in your company.
"Oh yeah? Is that what you want?" He was somewhat bemused by your suggestion.
You were hardly the type inclined toward the idea of matrimony, and neither was he. But here you were, his wife. His wife—the term sounded foreign upon his tongue.
He regarded you with a stoic eye, head canted slightly to the side. He was trying to figure you out, to understand the machinations of your mind. Such a task was seemingly monumental, no doubt, by the way of your closed off demeanor, a quiet, stoic disposition. But that was all the more reason he wished to figure you out.
You were... intriguing.
Days had come and gone since their first conversation.
He had, for the most part, settled into this married life quite well.
There was something soothing, peaceful, about the quiet domesticity of it all. Both you and him became acutely aware of each other's presence.
They say familiarity bred contempt, but for you and him, it bred something much different.
Every now and then, he would recall the subtle slope of your nose, the elegant dip of your shoulders, the way the sunlight pooled upon your skin… It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to ravish you there and then.
He had always thought of himself as an individual who could not possess emotions such but it wasn’t just carnal desire that he felt, rather, there was a certain depth to this feeling. A feeling he wasn’t quite able to place.
He tried to push away those thoughts as best as he could, but in the hours at night when he laid in bed, with you so close, it became harder to shut you out.
He laid awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep and plagued with the memory of your smile, the way you laughed, the scent of your hair- Wait.
"Can't sleep?" You ask, looking back at him.
The abrupt voice broke him from his trance. And then he groaned for the second time that night. He remained motionless for a few moments and then he rolls over, only to find you staring back at him from the other side of the bed.
”Clearly, neither can you…” He said, raking a hand through his rumpled hair which earned a chuckle from you.
The corner of his lips quirked into a smirk as the sound of your laughter reached his ears. He propped himself up on one elbow, studying you in the dim light. There was something rather enthralling about seeing you like this, all relaxed and vulnerable in the quiet night.
“I’d ask why you can’t sleep, but I think I already know the answer,” He teased.
"Oh yeah? What do you think is the cause?" You ask, smiling softly.
“You don’t seem to have much trouble sleeping during the day, when the sun is out. But come night time, suddenly there’s a change." He responded without a bit of hesitation. He wasn’t one to sugarcoat after all.
“You’re nervous about this new... condition, and about the future, and, if I’m not mistaken…a little scared of me,” He said, glancing back at you.
His words earned a huff from you. "Scared of you?"
His smirk widens into a sly smile as he props himself up on an elbow. He meets your gaze, regarding you with a keen eye.
“You are,” He states bluntly, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
“I can see that little shiver that goes through your spine every time I touch you. That little bit of hesitation in your movements whenever I’m around.”
Oh.
When he suggested leaving the house “to get some air” on a Friday evening, you didn’t think much of it.
After all, for the first few weeks after marriage, he had spent his days working and evenings on the armchair by the fire. However, the last thing you had expected was to be led out the door and into his black car.
A date—was, and is, the furthest thing you had expected from a reserved man like your husband.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. A man as stoic and reserved as he, nervous for a date? Who would’ve thought.
He had never been the romantic sort, too occupied in work and realistic for the idea of romance.
You tried to catch a glimpse of his expression from the passenger seat, but he was avoiding your gaze at all costs. Not a word was spoken, only the steady hum of the engine was heard as the scenery passed by.
Eventually, he pulled into a secluded spot overlooking a shimmering lake. A modest family-run restaurant on the edge of town.
He gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you after. And as you get out of the car, you are quick to glance around and take in your surroundings. Expensive.
The restaurant looked modest and homey, quaint even. You watch as he speaks a word to the waiter who leads the two of you to a secluded table.
He gestures to the table and pulls out your chair for you.
A soft “thank you” escapes your lips in response as you sink into the seat, before he takes his own seat across from you. He reaches for the wine list, scanning it before ordering a bottle of red.
"Do you plan on staying this quiet, or...?" You ask, biting back a teasing smile.
So she hasn't quite lost her bite, then. He leans back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, a sign of feigned aloofness. "Perhaps I'll save my tongue for our food." He said.
"Boring." You comment, watching as the waiter approached with a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses.
You took the glass, now filled with wine and brought it towards your lips, glancing at him.
"Boring, eh?" He asks. "Maybe I should order a second round of drinks just to shut you up," he retorts with a smirk.
"You look a tad too cocky for my liking."
....
It did not take long before the drinks started to get you. You were laughing louder, talking more freely, and your cheeks had taken on a rosy flush. It would almost be cute, were it not so annoying- or so he liked to believe.
He sets the glass down on the table and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Perhaps one drink too many.
He watched you from across the table, the smile never leaving your lips, the glint in your eyes all the more noticeable when your guard was down like this.
"Don't look at me like that." You whispered, swirling the liquid in the glass, your voice slurred.
"And how exactly am I looking at you?" He asked in a low voice, leaning forward ever so slightly.
"Like you want to rip my dress right here, right now." You said, smirking.
He blinked, that little remark sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He tried his damned best not to react, but the words had an immediate effect on him.
"Don’t be ridiculous." He mumbled. But your words were doing all kinds of things him, in all the right places.
And he could only take so much.
And just like that, one last drink, a ride home, a few fumbled steps in the doorway and a heated night later, when you woke up the next morning, you think all of it had been a dream- the dinner date, the alcohol, the lust-filled return home... But the sight of a slender arm curled around your hip said otherwise.
You can't help it, a smile starts to form on your own face. If this was how married life was supposed to be, then you were more than ready to welcome it with open arms.
✧˖*°࿐ triangle guard!recruiter/gong-yoo x triangle guard reader
a silent sigh leaves you as you put your gun back in your locker and shut it. the void black number 13 on the metal staring down at you. you stare back at it through your triangle mask before turning to your left to face front.
you can feel him staring at you. you always can. his stare holds weight. he’s out of line, not in his proper place. that’s unusual. you ignore it as you and the other guards begin walking down the hallway to your rooms. you stop at the 13th door, pulling out your key and inserting it into the lock.
a muffled sound comes out of your mouth before you can realize what’s happening. you’re roughly grabbed and pushed into your room. you’re pushed against the closet and the door is kicked shut and locked.
“one.” you say as calmly as you can through your teeth as you watch him. he glances at the room’s camera before removing his mask. his hair slightly disheveled when he takes it off. unusual. he’s always pristine and perfect, in his shots, in his steps.
“thirteen,” he replies. “i couldn’t help but notice something lately. something i think we should talk about..”
you feel your heart sink slightly. you knew what he was talking about. you knew he’d noticed. “im under no obligation to confer with you.” you respond, keeping your cool but the small room almost makes tension hug you tighter.
“would you rather speak with me or the boss? which one of us do you think is more likely to kill you?” he retorts calmly, typical. you swallow silently. when you don’t answer, he reaches up to unzip your hood. you grab his wrist, stopping him. “i want you to look at me when we’re speaking.” he says as he forces the zipper down just enough for him to grab your mask.
“i am looking at you.” you say while backing away from him and pushing at his hands simultaneously. you grunt as your legs hit your bed and you fall backwards. you’re pinned when he climbs on top of you, sitting at your hips.
“one!” you groan through a heavy breath in defiance when he tears your mask off and tugs your first layer down. revealing your narrow but worried eyes. he grips your throat and forces your head straight.
“you haven’t been killing the losers.” he states with a sick grin as he forces you to stare into his eyes. sophisticated but psycho.
“what’re you talking about?” you hiss in false confusion.
“you know exactly what im talking about,” he says a little harsher, tightening his grip on you. “you’re not going soft, are you?” he asks with a tilt of his head.
“i’ve gunned down everyone of those players that i was supposed to.” you argue.
“423, 107, 124, 261,” he lists. “four pawns you looked straight in the face after they loss and let live. i’ve had to clean up your mess. you know what that means?” he questions.
you let out a shaky breath at the implication. “aww,” he coos mockingly with a fake pout. “don’t get frightened now.”
you jolt slightly when he suddenly turns serious and lean down to you. all the while his gloved hand tugs you up by your throat. “kill the losers or we’ll play our own game. and i promise you won’t win.” he threatens. “understood?” he then asks innocently.
“understood,” you mumble with you’re very little breath.
“good,” he responds with a smile. he presses his lips to yours, taking the last of your depleting breath. finally, he releases you, leaving you heaving for air. “get some rest.” he adds before standing up and exiting the room.
♡⃕.a/n: am I the only one who thinks he would be a super sweet husband?😭
The marriage you had with him was not one you had originally wanted for yourself. You always wanted something... slow. You always imagined yourself to marry your high-school sweetheart but when your father arranged a marriage with him, could you really deny it? For love bloomed from even the thorniest of gardens.
He was away most of the time— doing whatever he did to earn a living. But that did not mean that he was one who shyed away when it came to showing you the affection you deserved.
He would slip under the duvet whenever he'd find you alone, lying on his bed. Then he would plant gentle kisses on your shoulder, knowing that you weren't sleeping.
Even though the marriage was arranged, falling in love was inevitable.
He never wanted to feel emotions, but there he was, burying his face in your neck.
As the morning sun streamed through the windows, you found yourself enveloped in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. His strong arms held you close, and the steady rhythm of his breathing against your skin created a soothing lull.
"Don't move." He grunted, his chest pressed against your back, his lips caressing the crook of your neck.
"You're not going to work today?" You ask and his grip around you tightened.
He nuzzles his nose into your neck, closing his eyes. "No." He murmurs, his voice hoarse due to sleep. He holds you closer to his body, not ready to let you go.
He loved your skin. The way it felt under his fingertips, when he held your hand, caressing your fingers, or when you moved underneath him.
His nose was buried in your neck, a place that smelled like you, that smelled like home.
As you tried to get up again, he protested again. A low grumble leaves his lips, a rumble that sounds almost like a growl. "I told you to not move." He says.
"And why is that?" You ask, smiling to yourself. Your hand finds its way to his much larger ones, covering them.
"Because I want to have a morning in bed with my wife." He murmurs, his breath brushing against your skin.
He hated to admit it, but he needed you — and he didn't want to be away from you.
He loved your curves, the way your body arched under his touch whenever you were beneath him, how your body felt against his.
He kisses your shoulder, your neck, and a shiver shoots down your spine, making your heart skip a beat.
He buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, inhaling your scent deeply. He loves that smell. Your smell.
You smiled, giving in to his pleading. You knew you wouldn't be able to leave with him practically glued to you.
You turned your face so that you could look at him. He was pouting as usual, looking so damn adorable that you wanted to kiss the pout away.
"Don't smile at me like that." The man muttered, as if reading your mind.
He held you tightly against his chest, as if worried you might slip away if he loosened his grip even a little.
His eyes were still closed, but you could feel his fingers tracing patterns lazily on your skin.
And just like that, you knew that he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.
♡⃕.summary: The man you had known for way before, before he 'ruined' your life, the one you were so determined to find, pays you a visit.
♡⃕.word count: 1.5k+
♡⃕.a/n: This is my first time writing a "proper" fic and it did NOT turn out the way I wanted it to but ig we all start somewhere. I hope yall like it, thank you!! 😭 [not proofread]
Being the only surviour of what you considered no less than hell on earth, you should have been content, no? How could you be? After witnessing the death of so many people, people who you promised you would enjoy life with after escaping that game.
Call it greed, call it madness, whatever it was, it had people blinded in those games.
One would call you crazy if they saw how determined you were to put an end to the games you had played and survived.
Being already considered half crazy, if not a total gone case by your friends, you found it hard to even believe yourself at times. If it wasn't for the giant stack of money in the corner of your store room, maybe even Lei would have not trusted you.
There you were, sighing in defeat, another day spent, trying to search for the man who ruined your life by a game as stupid as ddajki. Fucking ddajki.
Throwing your phone over at the couch, you sat down next to Lei. With your face hidden now in the curve of your palms, you pondered upon the number of days left, the number of days which still remained unticked on the calendar.
You could not find it in yourself to give up so easily, no. You had been trying for years now, it was as if your life had a purpose.
"Did they find him?" Lei asked, placing a comforting hand on your back. She rubbed your back gently, wishing to offer you comfort. You remained quiet, allowing her to soothe you.
After a pause, you rested your head on her shoulder, seeking more of the warmth she was offering. "I... I am tired, Lei. I am so fucking tired."
Lei closed her eyes for a brief moment, allowing you to let your emotions flow as she pulled you into a hug. "It will be okay, all is well."
ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ⎯⎯⎯ㅤ🎟
͏
Drinking had never really been your thing and yet you found yourself standing right beside Lei, watching as she ordered drinks for the two of you.
"You come here often?" You ask, your wandering gaze landing back at her. Lei simply shrugged, offering you a smile. "Is three times a week often?" She chuckled.
As the hours passed and the two of you made your way out of the bar after spending an undoubtedly wholesome evening, you could not help but ponder upon the cold, almost commanding look that Lei offered to the bartender at one point.
The games had made you too paranoid, they had forced you to pay unwanted attention and overthink every little thing that happened around you. After seeing the countless betrayals before your very own eyes, who could blame you for behaving like that?
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lei's voice brought you back to reality. "Oh... It's nothing." You said, looking back at her.
"It has to be something if it had you so deep in your thoughts, what is it?" Lei asked, demanding an answer.
"I said it's nothing. Come on, it is getting late, keep moving, Lei." You said, patting the skirt of your dress, refusing to meet her gaze.
"You do not trust me, do you?"
Oh. Your eyes finally met hers.
"Lei— what are you..."
Lei chuckled, shaking her head. "I love how easy it is to get you so... anxious. Of course I know you trust me, silly!" She laughed. "I earned it, didn't I?" After a brief pause, she added, "Let's get going, hm? It's getting late."
You nodded, moving ahead to look for a taxi for the two of you, blissfully unaware of the cold pair of eyes that stalked each and ever step you took.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⎯⎯⎯ㅤ🎟
If there was one good thing remaining in your life, it would be night outs like these with Lei. They would usually end with Lei pulling dumb moves, flirting with strangers, enjoying her life and you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't crave the life she has.
A life free from guilt, a life full of excitement and will to see and experience what the next day had to offer.
After looking at the numerous selfies sent by the people you had hired in hopes that at least one of them would succeed in catching the man that had plagued your thoughts, you could not help but groan in frustration.
Another fruitless search. You threw your phone away, closing your eyes as you thought of how your life used to be before all this happened.
A part of you hated yourself for yearning his touch, his caress. You had known for way longer than you would like to admit, he was kind, loving... or perhaps you were a fool.
It was funny how you still remembered each and every night when he took you to his home, when he fed you and held you in his arms when you cried about how bad your life was getting.
You trusted him with everything. Told him about how you managed to get all your hard earned money stolen by your own boyfriend. Sometimes felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself.
You trusted him when he told you to play a game of ddajki with him. You trusted him when he told you to give that number a call.
And now here you were, alive. With all the blood money in your pocket. You wish you had died there. You knew that he wished you had died too. You knew he was scared to meet you or so you liked to believed.
You knew that once you managed to get catch him, you would not let him leave without giving you any answers.
ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⎯⎯⎯ㅤ ㅤ 🎟
"Why so silent, hm?"
Your throat felt as if it had closed when you saw him in your apartment, staring at the calendar.
"Missed me, angel?"
He chuckled, turning around. His cold, calculating eyes found your scared ones.
"Weren't you dying to meet me?" He asked, taking a step in your direction.
"I feel a bit— hm desired, knowing that the first thing my sweet girl thought of was searching for me instead of just letting her little brain rest a bit."
He laughed. "Most people would have taken the money and started a new life but here you are, still stuck. Typical." He said, offering a rather phoney smile.
"You expected me to move on?" You cry, feeling a sting in your throat.
"Oh please, save your tears." He said, his voice taking an irritated turn.
"Is this all a joke to you?! I trusted you— I trusted you so fucking much! You ruined my life!" You yelled.
"You agreed to play them. You called that number willingly."
"I was helpless and in need of money, you knew it! I had no idea of what I was getting into!" You yelled.
He didn't flinch, his face showed no emotion. As if her words had no effect on him. "Why do you still yearn for me, after all that happens, hm? I can see it in your fucking eyes." He spat out, taking a few long strides in your direction.
"You think I haven't been watching you?" He laughed hysterically. "Searching for me like your life depended on it..." He paused, tugging you closer as he pressed his forehead against yours. "So unaware of how I never left. "
His words irritated you. You hated how his words still had effect over you— after all that happened.
"You don't know anything." You whispered, your hands clenching into a tight fist and before you knew it, your hand was out to punch him, to take your frustration out.
"Ah, ah." In a sudden motion, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, his grip unyielding "Don't you think I deserve a better welcome?" He pouted.
"Let go, you bastard!" You yell and his hold around you tightens, enjoying your futile efforts futile struggle. "That stubborn spirit... it just makes me want to break you more." His voice drops dangerously low. "But don't worry, angel - I have ways of..." He pauses, staring into her eyes.
He leans down to whisper in your ear, his warm breath ghosting across your skin. "...ways of making you beg for more." His free hand trails down your side, maintaining the pressure that keeps you trapped.
"I wonder how long it'll take for you to accept this as your new reality... As your new normal." He smiles to himself, a cold, calculating smile, before leaning down to capture your lips in a possessive kiss.
Before you could comprehend any of this properly, he was already making his way out of your apartment.
Leaving you once again, with just the warmth of his touch.
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