Aug 14
Butcher Namgyu🔪
Win or lose
seen from Israel
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seen from Singapore
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Butcher Namgyu🔪
Win or lose
All fun | Chishiya!Reader x Various!SquidGame | HCS
Notes: As requested, Reader has a Chishiya mind like. They are there to win, not to love or care.
Warnings: GN!Reader + They/Them + Blood + Death + Gore + One sided love + Reader has no feelings
Gi-hun S1
Gi-hun was the most easy pray you could get your hand on. In fact, you needed to do little to have him wrapped around your finger. From the start he was kind, a bit dumb. His group (by extent yours) was weak. Every game he won or the group won could be called pure luck.
Luck is not a friend. Is a double face entity with easy words and cruel fate. Gi-hun learns it when he comes out alive from the marbel game. He is numb and walks with no sense of reality till he almost hits you.
He feels relief to see you alive. And thanks whatever thing may have gave him the choice to not pick you as his partner.
You by your part are not that suprised. You guessed long ago this would be a game to cut the players by half. This was a show, someone was watching and like any show you need to keep your audience entertaining and locked in. Thats why you picked the last player Gi-hun ditched and let him go with the old man.
After it, while Gi-hun sulks and is told by Sangwoo to just forget the old Man. You see the oportunity. You let him rest besides you, stroking his hair as he tells you his life. You dont listen but nod in the correct moments and tell him the words he needs to hear.
He is down bad for you. Fully convince that you are like him. That you dont care for the money, you only want to live another day.
How naive of him.
Sangwoo
Sangwoo is different. Hard to break and knows how to play double face on his favor. His only problem is that he still has feelings. He still sees Gi-hun and thinks about the past. But he cant give him the pleasure of it. He cant even trust Gi-hun himself about it.
Is when you come in the picture.
Because you are not from his past, you are his present. You are cunning like him, a liar, someone who fakes having feelings but does not has them while Sangwoo fakes to not have them when he does.
He knows you are dangerous, knows he should not trust you.
But you are intelligent. Too smart. And he needs that, as well as muscle for the team. He needs a second cold heart person who can see the real deal.
His missleap is that, you are not the second. You are the first. You know his weakness after two days, you know he likes to pretend to be in control. That is hard for him to lie to the rest. Is hard for him to survive.
So you play the smart but also carefully soft heart person he needs. He does not need void words, he needs someone who sees like him and tells him "You are doing fine" or "You did it to survive" and the best lie "You did it for yourself and the rest"
Sangwoo knows he should not listen. He should not look for your words or touch at night. He must learn to separate himself from you and only use you.
But how could he if you are using him from day one?
Player!Jun-ho
Jun-ho knows you are not what you sell yourself to be. He is well at reading others thanks to his work in the forces. You lie like a second nature, and your actions are often (if not always) prepared before you do them.
He sees you from afar, playing others like pieces of chest.
He is centrain you will endure this hell site till the end, maybe you and him will face each other at the finals or whatever this sick place has prepared for players.
Jun-ho wishes however, because wish is human. That you and him could have met outside the games. You could have been an amazing friend and maybe more. He understands why you do it, to survive, to see another day, to get out.
Live and the wish to live are human. He belives you are too.
tags (asked): @seongjes-lover
🎀
Thanos dick piercing supremacy 🛐
VIP ROOM
Husband | The Salesman x Wife!Reader
Warnings: Grammar mistakes - Obsessive Salesman -
Note: Just me still in love with him.
His love is not soft. Is the type of love that comes from a Man who scaled from the bottom to the top. With blood in his hands and a sense of moral so grey it may as well be black.
His love is devotion. He is devoted to his work, he bleeds for it and like that, he would bleed for you.
He would go in one knee and swear over his body, over his liking for games and suffering, swear that you would never feel unloved, be sad, or have not enough food or money.
He may not truly feel it. But he would turn his heart raw into your hands. Put a blade to his neck and leave his life upon you.
He trusts you, or maybe he is obsess to have you. A chain to some sense of reality. Of life without violence and blood, even if its only when he is with you.
He kisses your fingers like you are his salvation, even if he knows he wont be save (and perphas does not want to). But he still lets himself cling into your embrace and fake being normal. A normal husband with a normal work and a normal life.
He wants your warm. Your heartbeat under his ear. He wants to listen to you breath besides him at night. Wants to meet your eyes from across any room.
He may as well have flashes of you when he knows you are not there.
He needs to hear your voice. A simple "mhm" wont do. He cant go a day with you not speaking to him. Is only there when his act may fail and his cruel nature come out.
Because he is chained to you, and you to him. You dont know just how deep his love, obsession, devotion, how deep these are. You claimed a Man, kissed a Man at the altar. But you actually gave your life and heart to a beast who sleeps besides you.
As starved for blood, he is starved for you. Needs you to be the contrast of his day. Needs you to hold him close, kiss him softly and laught at whatever he says (he knows he is not funny).
As dangerous as he presents himself, he turns into a simple husband with you. Who likes to have you on his lap or have his head on yours while you read or play with his hair.
He snores softly, and sleeps hugging you from behind. Never letting go of you. His mind may go into dark dreams, but he only needs to open one eye (he never wakes you up, years of training on how to be quiet) see you and get his mind back at ease.
If he has to kill thousands, leave a trail of blood behind. Friends, enemies, ex lovers, law, anyone and anything who dares take you from him. He is more that willing to do it.
Tumblr is a bitch because why have I been trying to make a thirst post for the past 3 FUCKIN HOURS AND IT'S NOT LETTING ME BECAUSE IT DOESN'T SHOW UP IN THE TAGS I PUT?????
Is pissing me off omg
I need answers as to why this happens pls anybody?
dRuNk || Hwang In-ho
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4
" She's back in his life, and it feels so right."
Summary: You're gradually accepting that In-ho is returning to your life, and he wants to fulfill his role as Woo-ju's appa after you've hidden the truth from them.
The city is a blur of neon and rain-slicked streets as you drive too fast through Gangnam while your knuckles white on the wheel.
It’s past midnight.
You shouldn’t be here.
You should be home, curled around Woo-ju, and pretending the world hasn’t just cracked open. But your father’s voice still rings in your ears in furious, betrayed, promising police reports and prison time, and beneath the rage is something worse.
It's fear.
Fear that In-ho is bleeding out somewhere alone because of the bomb he dropped tonight.
You hate him for it.
You hate yourself more for worrying.
The penthouse tower looms ahead. It's still the same one you visited as a child when your appa brought you along for “business.”
You pray he still lives here.
You have no other address.
You park crookedly, slam the door, and run to the lobby. The night guard, which is a new face that blocks the elevator.
“ Ma’am, Mr. Hwang isn’t accepting visitors. Especially not at this hour.”
You lift your chin. “ I’m not a visitor. I’m…his family.”
The guard hesitates. You’re shaking in half from cold, half from fury, and something in your expression must convince him you’re not a threat.
He sighs then swipes his card and lets you through.
“ Thank you.” You mutter, already moving.
The private elevator ride is torture. Your reflection in the mirrored walls looks wild, hair messy, and eyes red from crying in the car.
You don’t care.
The doors slide open directly into the penthouse. You step into darkness lit only by the city glow through floor-to-ceiling windows.
“ In-ho!” Your voice cracks on his name.
“ In-ho, you fucking idiot…where are you?”
Silence.
Then a faint clink of a bottle rolling across marble as you follow the sound down the hallway while your heart slamming.
He’s on the floor in the living room in white dress shirt soaked crimson at the shoulder and chest, blood matted in his hair, and one side of his face swollen and bruised while an empty whiskey bottle lies beside his limp hand.
He groans, slurring without opening his eyes. “ Fuck off…t-trying to sleep...p…”
The smell of alcohol hits you like a slap. Then rage and worry collide so violently you almost choke.
You drop to your knees beside him as you grab his shoulders. “ In-ho. Wake up. Look at me!”
He cracks one eye open, squints, then laughs in low, bitter, and wrecked.
“ I'm dreaming again.” He mumbles.
“ You’re furious because I ruined everything. Dropped the fucking bomb on your appa. Now you’re gone again. Always gone.”
You slap him, hard across the uninjured cheek making his head snaps sideways as he blinks slowly.
“ Still dreaming?” You hiss.
He touches his reddening cheek, eyes clearing. Then suddenly and desperately he lunges forward and pulls you into his arms while crushing you against his bloodied chest.
You yelp, shoving at him. “ Let go—”
“ No.” He rasps into your hair.
“ You are finally real. You are finally here.”
You fight but weakly, because part of you wants to stay exactly like this, breathing him in despite the copper tang of blood and whiskey.
“ I’m only here to kill you. You told my appa. You fucking told him everything!” You mutter against his shoulder.
He eases back just enough to grip your shoulders while searching your face raw with bloodshot eyes.
“ I had to.” He says hoarsely.
“ They deserved the truth. You deserved to stop carrying it alone. I couldn’t let him file charges without knowing why I’d take every hit. Why would I let him break the vase on my head? Why would I let him end our friendship?”
“ Because I’m not sorry I loved you. I’m only sorry I let you carry the consequences by yourself for eight years.”
You clench your jaw so hard it aches.
“ You crashed a wrecking ball through every wall I built to protect Woo-ju. Eight years of careful lies are gone. My father wants you in prison. For sure, he’s going to the police tomorrow. He’ll never forgive you. He’ll never forgive me!”
In-ho’s thumbs brush your cheeks gently despite the tremor in his hands.
“ I won’t regret it, jagiya.” He says quietly.
“ Even if he wins or even if I rot, at least the truth is out. At least Woo-ju won’t grow up wondering why his appa never came. I’d rather face every consequence than let him think he wasn’t wanted.”
You laugh sharply and bitterly. “ You think you’ll be of any use to him in a cell? You think handcuffs make a good father?”
He smiles small, sad, and bleeding. “ I have lawyers. I’ll buy my way out if I have to. But even if I don’t…”
He leans closer, forehead touching yours. “ I’ll still fight for him. For you. From inside or outside because I’m done staying away.”
Your breath hitches when he brushes a strand of hair from your face when his voice dropping to a whisper.
“ Let me be his father. Let me give him everything I missed. Let me love him the way he deserves. The way I’ve wanted to love you for eight fucking years.”
You shake your head, tears spilling. “ Stop. Your cheesy lines don’t work anymore.”
He laughs softly and leans in. You freeze when his lips brush yours with hesitation when you were tasting of blood and whiskey with eight years of longing.
You should push him away or you should slap him again.
Instead, your hands fist in his ruined shirt and you kiss him back in hard. He groans into your mouth while his fingers threading into your hair then pulling you closer like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again.
It only makes you kiss him deeper and hungrier like you’ve been starving for this exact feeling since the night you ran.
He breaks away just enough to breathe against your lips. “ I never stopped loving you. Not for one goddamn day.”
You close your eyes when your forehead pressed to his.
“ I know, In-ho. That's why it hurts so much.” You whisper.
He kisses you again slower and softer like a promise.
And for the first time in eight years, you don’t run. You just let yourself feel the ache, the heat, the impossible hope that maybe or somehow, and the wreckage can still become something whole.
…
The penthouse bathroom is too bright when the marble counter too cold under your palms as you dab antiseptic on the gash at In-ho’s temple. He hisses through clenched teeth while his shoulders jerking.
“ Hold still, you idiot.” You snap, pressing the cotton pad harder than necessary.
“ This is what happens when you confess your sins to my father like some tragic drama hero.”
In-ho laughs in low, rough, pained, and the sound vibrates against your wrist. “ Worth it. Pain’s just a piece of cake.”
You grind the cotton in as he whimpers in loud and grabs your wrist while his eyes watering.
“ Thought it was a piece of cake.” You say sweetly, while your voice dripping of sarcasm.
“ That’s different.” He grits out.
“ Cake doesn’t fight back. Especially when you press it that hard.”
You roll your eyes so violently it hurts. “ Stop turning everything into a double entendre. Your brain is disgusting.”
He chuckles again, weaker this time. “ Never crossed my mind...blame your dirty thoughts, Jagiya.”
You toss the soiled cotton into the trash with more force than needed. “ Don’t call me that.”
He doesn’t reply as he just watches you with those dark, bloodshot eyes as you tear open a fresh gauze pack.
The silence stretches and thick with everything unsaid.
Then, quietly. “ Your appa…he’s really going to file charges?”
You meet his gaze in the mirror. “ He wasn’t joking, In-ho. You know what he’s like when he’s angry. My appa is a good man until someone hurts his daughter. Then he’s merciless.”
In-ho nods slowly, wincing as you tape the gauze over the wound. “ I know.”
“ Then why the hell did you still ask?” You demand, voice rising.
“ If you’re so excited to rot in prison—”
“ I’m not excited.” He cuts in, softer.
“ I’m…just overwhelmed. One day I find out I have a son. Next, everything explodes. My best friend wants me dead. The woman I love wants to kill me. My head’s bleeding. It’s a lot.”
You exhale sharply through your nose. “ If you hadn’t gone to Woo-ju’s school like some lovesick stalker, none of this would’ve happened.”
He stands slowly and towering over you even with the blood crusted in his hair and the bruise blooming across his cheekbone.
“ I went because I wanted to see him.” He says, voice low.
“ Even when I didn’t know he was mine. I kept going back because…because he smiled at me like I mattered. Because he hugged me like he trusted me. Because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like a ghost.”
You look awat as he steps closer.
“ You don’t know how it felt watching him cry on that playground because kids called him fatherless. Because his appa didn’t love him enough to stay. I sat there telling him he wasn’t incomplete, that his eomma loved him enough for ten fathers…and I didn’t even know I was talking to my own son.”
Your throat closes.
In-ho’s voice cracks. “ He called me ‘Mr. Stranger.’ Twice. And the second time…he said we looked alike. Maybe I was his appa and just forgot.”
He laughs in short and shattered. “ The universe has a sick sense of humor.”
You swallow hard. “ You’re the one he kept talking about. The man who made him feel better.”
In-ho nods. “ Yeah.”
Silence again.
Then he reaches for you slowly, he pulls you into his arms.
You stiffen, but don’t pull away.
“ I’m here now.” He whispers against your hair.
“ I’m not going anywhere, jagiya. Let me protect you both. Let me be the father he’s been missing. Let me love you the way I’ve wanted to for eight fucking years.”
You close your eyes. “ It’s not that easy.”
“ I know.” His hands slide up to cup your face, thumbs brushing the tear tracks on your cheeks.
“ I know it’s not easy. I know I fucked up. I know your appa wants me dead. I know society will crucify us. But I also know I’ve spent eight years dying slowly without you.”
“ And I know that little boy deserves a father who’ll fight for him even if it costs everything.”
You look up at him with his bloodied face and his eyes shining with something raw and desperate.
He leans in.
You could stop him.
You don’t.
His lips meet yours again. It's soft at first and tentative like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. Then deeper and hungrier because eight years of longing pouring out in the press of mouths and the catch of breath.
You taste blood, whiskey, salt, his tears, your tears, and it should be disgusting but it’s not.
It’s home.
Your hands fist in his ruined shirt. His fingers thread into your hair while tilting your head, and kissing you like a man who’s been starving. When you finally break apart, foreheads pressed together and breathing ragged as he whispers.
“ Let me in, jagiya. Let me fix this and let me love you both, please.”
You close your eyes.
“ I don’t know how, In-ho.” You admitted.
“ I don’t know how to trust you with this. With him.”
“ Then let me show you.” He murmurs.
“ One day at a time. There's no more running or no more hiding. Just…us. Whatever that looks like.”
You don’t answer.
You just lean into him despite of his blood, bruises, broken promises, and all as you let yourself feel it.
There's a heartbeat under your palm.
The warmth of arms that once held you like you were everything and the terrifying possibility that maybe the wreckage can still become something whole.
Seoul glitters on and indifferent while two people who’ve spent eight years bleeding finally stop pretending it doesn’t hurt. And somewhere in the city, a little boy sleeps dreaming of a father who’s finally coming home.
…
The penthouse elevator doors slide shut behind you with a soft hiss. In-ho pauses at the lobby desk with blood still crusted at his temple and his shirt stiff with dried crimson.
He leans toward the night guard with the same one who let you up earlier and speaks low.
“ If anyone comes looking for me…police, my assistant, anyone and tell them I’m not here. If they bring a warrant, let them search. Don’t resist. Understand?”
The guard nods once with his eyes flicking to the blood on In-ho’s collar then to you. “ Yes, sir.”
In-ho straightens then exhales and follows you to the parking garage without another word.
He insists on driving your car.
You don’t argue.
The city lights streak across the windshield in wet ribbons as the rain taps the roof like impatient fingers and neither of you speaks for the first ten minutes. You stare out the passenger window and watching reflections of neon signs slide over your face while trying to outrun the questions clawing up your throat.
Was this right?
Letting him back in after eight years of locked doors?
Letting him near Woo-ju?
Letting him near you?
His hand finds yours on the center console slowly and carefully like he expects you to pull away, but you don’t. He lifts your knuckles to his lips as he presses a lingering kiss there when the faint metallic tang of his blood lingers on your skin.
“ Stop thinking so hard, jagiya. You'll give yourself wrinkles.” He murmurs against your fingers.
You snort despite everything. “ You’re the reason I’m stressed, asshole.”
He chuckles in low and rough, but still a little wrecked from the night. “ I know. But I’m here now. We fight this together. For Woo-ju and for us.”
You sigh and let your fingers curl around his.
The apartment building looms ahead in modest and nothing like the glass towers he’s used to. He parks neatly then kills the engine and scans the quiet street with a small surprised smile.
“ It's simple.” He says.
You roll your eyes as you unbuckle. “ I’m not rich enough for a bungalow, sorry to disappoint.”
He laughs genuinely this time. “ You could buy half of Gangnam if you wanted. You just don’t.”
“ Exactly.” You step out, slam the door.
“ I don’t touch my parents’ money. I don’t want their help cleaning up my own shit.”
He follows you inside without comment.
The hallway light flickers.
You unlock the door as quietly as possible, finger to your lips. “ Woo-ju’s asleep. No noise.”
In-ho nods then you slip off your shoes as he does the same. The apartment is small but warm like crayon drawings taped to the fridge in a low shelf of picture books and a framed photo of Woo-ju grinning toothlessly at the camera.
In-ho stops in front of it while he's staring.
“ I missed everything.” He says quietly.
“ My son's first steps. First words. First laugh. First heartbreak on that playground…”
You don’t answer.
Instead you move to the kitchen as you flick on the under-cabinet light and start the kettle. “ What’s the plan here, In-ho? What’s the setup?”
He leans against the doorway with his arms crossed while watching you move. “ I will be the father he needs. I show up. I stay. I earned it.”
You snort. “ You’ve got the point. But Woo-ju isn’t the only problem.”
He waits.
You turn, arms folded. “ My parents. My appa wants you in prison. He’s not bluffing. He’ll file tomorrow morning.”
In-ho’s jaw tightens. “ I know.”
“ Then why—”
“ Because I’m not running anymore.” He steps closer slowly and deliberately.
“ I let you carry this alone for eight years. I won’t let you carry the fallout alone too.”
You laugh in a sharp and humorless way.
“ And what if Appa forces an arranged marriage? You know the family tradition. They’ll find some nice chaebol son, someone clean, someone uncomplicated—”
In-ho’s laugh cuts you off in low that edged with something dangerous.
“ Your appa will burn that tradition to the ground before he lets anyone else near you now.” His eyes flick to the framed photo on the wall.
“ Especially after tonight. He thinks I’m disgusting. He’s right. But he also knows deep down that you chose me twice, and he’ll hate that more than any arranged match.”
You glare. “ You’re enjoying this.”
“ No, I'm just done pretending I'm ashamed of wanting you.” He steps into your space and he's close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him.
Your breath catches.
He lifts a hand slowly as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “ Let me handle your appa. Let me handle the police. Let me handle the fallout. You’ve carried enough.”
You look up at him of your eyes burning with eight years of everything he never said.
“ And if I say 'no'?” You whisper.
He leans in until his lips brush your temple.
“ Then I’ll wait outside your door. Every day. Until Woo-ju asks who was the man keeps bringing him candy and cheers the loudest at his game. Until you get tired pretending you don't feel it too.” He murmurs.
You close your eyes when his hand slides to the back of your neck in gentle and possessiveness.
“ I’m not asking for forgiveness tonight, jagiya.” He says against your skin.
“ I’m asking for a chance to prove I can be the man you both deserve. Starting tomorrow. Starting right now.”
You don’t answer.
You just lean into him as his forehead against his chest while listening to the unsteady thud of his heart. For the first time in eight years, you let yourself imagine a world where the walls come down.
Where Woo-ju has a father who fights for him.
Where you have someone who stays.
Even if it costs everything.
…
The morning sun filters through the thin curtains of your small apartment by painting soft gold stripes across the living room floor.
Woo-ju’s bedroom door creaks open at exactly 7:00 a.m. He's always been punctual about breakfast. You hear his little feet padding down the hallway and accompanied by a huge yawn and the sleepy rub of tiny fists against his eyes.
“ Eommaaaa! My tummy's roaring! What's for breakfa—”
He stops dead in the doorway when he sees his eomma and appa-friend are tangled on the couch as your head pillowed on his chest while his arm slung protectively around your waist while both of you are still in yesterday’s clothes.
The blanket you’d pulled over yourselves sometime after 3 a.m. has slipped to the floor. In-ho’s shirt is still stained with dried blood at the collar as your hair is a wreck from his fingers.
Woo-ju tilts his head so far it almost touches his shoulder.
“ Eomma…?”
You jolt awake like you’ve been electrocuted.
In-ho’s eyes snap open at the same second.
You both scramble apart so fast the couch cushions protest. You nearly fall off the edge while In-ho catches your elbow on instinct, then releases you like he’s been burned.
Woo-ju blinks slowly and he's still processing.
“ Why is Appa-friend sleeping on our couch?” He asks, voice small but curious.
“ Are you two…dating?”
Your mouth opens then loses then pens again.
“ N-no…sweetie, it’s not—”
In-ho clears his throat. His voice still rough from sleep and yesterday’s beating. “ Your eomma and I…we’re reconnecting. We’ve known each other a long time.”
Woo-ju’s eyes go comically wide. “ A LONG time?!”
In-ho nods solemnly. “ Since before you were born.”
Woo-ju’s mouth drops open so far his chin practically hits his chest. Then he bursts out laughing high and completely disbelieving.
“ That’s CRAZY!” He shrieks, bouncing on his toes.
“ The two people who matter most to me know each other?! This is like a movie! Destiny! Eomma, it’s destiny!”
You bury your face in your hands. “ Woo-ju-yah—”
In-ho’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
Woo-ju spins toward him, eyes sparkling. “ Appa-friend! You and Eomma look so good together!"
Your face ignites.
“ Woo-ju!” You hiss, mortified.
In-ho leans forward with elbows on knees while grinning like the devil himself. “ You think so, kid? I’ve been telling her that for years. She’s stubborn, though.”
Woo-ju gasps, then grabs your sleeve with both hands while tugging like he’s ringing a bell.
“ Eomma, please date Appa-friend, jebal! He’s nice and he makes you smile and he looks like me so we’d be perfect!”
You glare at In-ho over Woo-ju’s head. “ Stop encouraging him.”
In-ho raises both hands in mock innocence. “ I’m just agreeing with the child. He has excellent taste.”
Woo-ju giggles so hard he snorts. “ See? Even Appa-friend wants to! Eomma, say yes! Say yes!”
You groan while dropping your face into your palms again. “ Go brush your teeth. Breakfast in ten minutes.”
Woo-ju pouts dramatically. “ But—”
“ Woo-ju, teeth. Now.”
He sighs like the world is ending, but trots off toward the bathroom still giggling under his breath.
The second his door clicks shut, you whirl on In-ho.
“ You absolute menace. You're supposed to be helping, not feeding his delusions!” You whisper-yell.
In-ho leans back against the couch with one arm draped over the backrest while looking far too pleased to himself despite the fading bruise on his cheek and the bandage at his temple.
“ Can you blame me? He just called us a perfect family. My son thinks we'd be perfect. That's...that's everything.” He says softly.
You open your mouth to argue then close it.
Because he’s right.
And because the look on his face and terrified is the same one he wore last night when he begged you to let him in.
You exhale, shoulders dropping. “ We can’t just…jump into this, In-ho. Woo-ju is only eight. He doesn’t understand what any of this means.”
“ I know. We go slow. I'm just the ahjussi who's friends with you for now.” In-ho’s voice is gentle.
“ And if my Appa follows through? What if he really files charges against you?” You whisper.
In-ho reaches for your hand again, but this time you let him take it.
“ Then I face it. But I'm not disappearing in your lives again.” He says quietly.
Woo-ju’s door bangs open.
“ Eomma! I brushed my teeth and I used bubblegum toothpaste! Can we have pancakes? With tiger stripes? Please?”
You wipe your eyes quickly, force a smile. “ Coming, baby.”
In-ho stands in slow but careful and ruffles Woo-ju’s hair as the boy darts past.
“ Morning, kid. Sleep well?”
Woo-ju beams up at him. “ Yup! Did you and Eomma stay up late talking about destiny?”
In-ho chokes on a laugh.
You shoot him a death glare.
Woo-ju giggles. “ It’s okay. Adults do that. Because auntie Su-ah says it’s ‘processing emotions.’”
You groan. “ Go sit at the table. Pancakes in five.”
As Woo-ju skips away, In-ho leans down and close enough that his breath brushes your ear.
“ See? Destiny's already on our side.” He murmurs.
You elbow him lightly in the ribs. “ Shut up and help with breakfast, idiot.”
He grins and follows you into the kitchen.
For the first time in eight years, the apartment doesn’t feel too small.
It feels like the beginning of something.
…
The breakfast table is small, crowded with plates of half-eaten pancakes, syrup-sticky fingers, and the lingering scent of coffee. Woo-ju sits between you and In-ho like he’s always belonged there, knees bouncing under the table, and cheeks still faintly striped with yesterday’s face paint.
He’s mid-story, waving his fork like a conductor. “...and then the tiger plush won first place in the jump contest! I named him Roary because he roars when I squeeze him. Like this—”
He demonstrates with dramatic flair in a tiny roar echoing off the kitchen tiles.
In-ho leans forward, chin on his fist, smiling so softly it almost hurts to watch. “ That’s impressive, kid. Roary sounds like a champion. I’m proud of you.”
Woo-ju beams, syrup glistening on his chin. “ You’re proud of me? Really?”
“ Every single day. Even when you're not winning tiger races.” In-ho says without hesitation.
You swallow hard around a sip of coffee while pretending the sudden tightness in your throat is just from the caffeine.
Woo-ju tilts his head when his eyes darting between you two. “ Appa-friend…how did you meet Eomma? Like...for real?”
In-ho freezes mid-bite. He coughs then thumps his chest once. You almost choke on your own coffee trying not to laugh at the panic that flashes across his face. He recovers quickly as he sets his fork down, and leans toward Woo-ju with the calm confidence of a man who’s about to lie beautifully.
“ Your eomma and I...let's just say we met at a very boring grown-up party.” He says smoothly.
“ Your eomma was wearing this red dress that made everyone stare. I was trying to hide in the corner because parties aren’t my thing. She walked right up to me when she didn’t even know who I was and said, ‘You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.’”
Woo-ju’s eyes go huge. “ Then what?”
“ I told her she was right then she laughed. Her laugh was the best sound I ever heard. Then we talked all night. Your eomma made the boring party…not boring.”
You stare at your plate while your cheeks are burning. He’s staring at you while he talks in secret with the same look he gave you across your mother’s birthday table last night.
Woo-ju sighs dreamily. “ That’s so cute. It's like a movie.”
You snort into your coffee then some of it sprays across the table.
Both heads snap toward you.
“ Eomma?! Are you okay?” Woo-ju gasps.
In-ho’s lips twitch. “ Need a napkin?”
You cough harder while glaring at him through watering eyes. “ I’m fine. I just swallowed...wrong.”
Woo-ju pats your hand solemnly. “ Be careful. You almost died.”
In-ho snorts into his mug as you kick him under the table in light and warning. He doesn’t even flinch and he just keeps smiling.
Woo-ju isn’t done. “ The first time I saw Appa-friend, I already knew he’d be perfect for Eomma. You guys look good together. I feel like my family is complete now.”
Your fork clatters against the plate.
“ L/n Woo-ju…where did you learn to ship people? That's bad.” You say slowly.
He blinks innocently. “ I figured it out myself! It’s fun when two people who are good at heart like each other. And you two are super good at heart. Especially when Appa-friend looks at you like…”
He makes an exaggerated dreamy face, batting his lashes. “...like he’s in loooove.”
You groan then drop your forehead to the table while In-ho laughs in full and delighted.
You lift your head just enough to glare. “ Don’t encourage him.”
“ Too late. He's right though. I do look at you like that.” In-ho murmurs.
Woo-ju gasps in victory. “ See?! Told you!”
You point your fork at your son. “ You are seven, and you are too young for this.”
“ I’m not a toddler anymore!” He protests.
“ I’m practically eight! And I know what love looks like. You smile more when he’s here. Then he smiles like he won the biggest tiger plush ever.”
In-ho leans toward Woo-ju with stage-whispering. “ She does smile more. I’ve been counting.”
You kick him again harder.
He grunts dramatically while clutching his shin. “ A horse just stomped me.”
Woo-ju frowns. “ There’s no horse here.”
“ Trust me, Woo-ju. It's vicious.” In-ho deadpans.
You narrow your eyes at him while he winks.
Woo-ju isn’t finished embarrassing you. “ Remember when I caught you staring at your phone at night? You were smiling like crazy. Was that Appa-friend texting you?”
Your face ignites. “ That was…work.”
“ Work doesn’t make you giggle, eomma.” Woo-ju says wisely.
“ And earlier when he slept hugged you? You hugged back like you missed him forever.”
In-ho’s grin widens. “ She did miss me forever.”
“ Stop it, In-ho.” You hiss at him.
Woo-ju claps his hands. “ You two are so cute! Just get married already!”
You drop your fork. “ Woo-ju!”
He giggles while him being completely unrepentant.
In-ho leans back while looking far too pleased with himself. “ The kid has excellent taste.”
You glare between them as your traitorous son and the man who’s somehow turned your breakfast table into a conspiracy against your sanity.
The kitchen fills with Woo-ju’s laughter and In-ho’s low chuckles with your exasperated groans.
For one suspended and golden moment, it feels like a normal family morning.
No police reports looming.
No eight-year secrets bleeding out.
Just pancakes, teasing, and a little boy who believes in destiny. You catch In-ho’s eye over Woo-ju’s head while he’s still smiling but softer now and sadder like he knows how fragile this is.
You look away first because if you keep looking, you might start believing in destiny too and that terrifies you more than anything.
Author's Note:
Heya, guys! I'm back again! It's been a month and a half since I last uploaded anything to this account. I was so busy because I am currently focusing on our StratMa paper, which has a defense. We must study the entire paper as a group in order to avoid becoming a "ginisa" when defending our paper. Furthermore, we are currently working on another piece of paperwork, a lesson plan (even though I am not enrolled in an education program, but it is part of our curriculum), and we will be doing a Demo Teaching to our fellow students in another section.
It's difficult and time-consuming, which is why I need to take a break from writing fics right now because I've lost interest, plus I'm constantly burnt out and have a lot of problems at school or in my fuck-up life.
So, I apologize for making you wait for all of my updates. I read all of your comments in my previous stories and apologize for not responding because, truthfully, I don't know the answer when I upload my next stories.
Anyway, happy belated birthday to LBH. His birthday was on July 12, and I dedicated this story as a gift to his fans here because you've been waiting for Part 5 of dRuNk, so here it is.
I am not sure when I will update part six. But I tried to write again and finish the story. Waiting might take longer, but I believe it will be worthwhile in the end. Haha.
So have fun and see you around.
Stay safe and healthy, everyone! 😇
