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Moving 무빙 (2023) // Ballerina 발레리나 (2023)

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BONG SEOK: "I don't wear weights at home and I do totally fine... As long as you're not around."

MOVING (2023) | Ep. 15

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KIM BONG SEOK & JANG HUI SOO

MOVING 무빙 (2023) dir. Park In Je

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like or reblog if you save!

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where are the weak hero fics IM STARVING 😭💔

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Our princess 🥺

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"Flashback"

- kind off??? with a little bit of reader's POV before she got hurt

WARNINGS: Emotion abuse, Physical violence, Angst, Abuse of trust, Blood, Betrayal

Author's note: IM SO SORRY ITS SO SHORT AND IT TOOK AGES I WAS LAZY 💔💔

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It started with silence.

Not the kind that was peaceful or comfortable—but the kind that filled the air like static, thick and sharp, waiting to snap.

You and Beom-seok hadn’t been speaking much by then. Not really. The conversations had thinned out, turned into short nods, one-word replies, or bitter, biting comments that left more damage than any silence could.

You didn’t recognize him anymore.

He used to be soft-spoken. Awkward, yes, but sweet. Always walking two steps behind, asking questions like he didn’t know how to exist in the world unless someone was guiding him. You were that someone for a long time.

And then something shifted.

He started hanging around the wrong people—ones who whispered poison and praised power. He started craving control, clawing at anything that made him feel important. Strong. Feared.

You confronted him once. Just once.

“Why are you doing this, Beom-seok?” you’d asked, arms crossed as you stood in the shadow of an empty stairwell.

He laughed, cold and cruel. “Doing what? Learning how to stand up for myself? Sorry that makes you uncomfortable.”

“This isn’t standing up for yourself. You’re hurting people.”

“They deserve it.”

Your stomach twisted. “They don’t. You didn’t use to be like this.”

“Yeah?” His eyes had narrowed. “And you didn’t use to look at Suho the way you do now.”

That made you go still.

“What does Suho have to do with this?”

“Everything,” he snapped. “He’s always in the way. He makes me look weak. And you—you stopped having my back the second he started showing up.”

You blinked. “I didn’t stop caring about you.”

“You abandoned me.”

You stepped back. “I can’t follow you into this, Beom-seok. You’ve changed.”

His jaw clenched. “I changed because I had to. Because people like Suho don’t get stepped on. People like me do.”

And then he grabbed your arm.

You’d tried to pull away. “Let go.”

But he didn’t. Not until you shoved him back hard, breath hitching. “Don’t touch me like that again.”

He stared at you, chest rising and falling like he’d just been hit.

“I should’ve known,” he whispered. “You’re just like the rest of them.”

Then he turned, stormed off—and you let him go.

You didn’t tell Suho. Not then. Not when it was still just harsh words and sharp looks. Not even when Beom-seok started cornering you more often, spitting guilt and jealousy and desperation.

The last time you saw him before the hospital, it was raining.

He found you alone outside school, grabbed your arm again, harder this time.

“You ruined everything,” he hissed.

You struggled, heart pounding. “You need help.”

“You don’t get to say that after leaving me!”

Then the first hit came.

And the next.

And then the world blurred with blood and thunder.

BONUS (his POV):

The first time she pulled away from me, I thought it was nothing.

Just a bad day, a misunderstanding. She’d been distant before. She always had her reasons—her own life, her own priorities. It didn’t mean she was done with me.

But this time… this time, there was something different in her eyes. Something colder. Dismissive. Like I wasn’t even worth trying for anymore.

I never wanted to admit it, but I saw it coming. I felt the shift the second she started hanging around with Suho more. She started looking at him like he was something more. Like she was seeing him for the first time—really seeing him.

And then she was gone. Not in the literal sense, but emotionally. I felt her slipping through my fingers like sand, and I couldn’t get a grip on her. The more I tried to hold onto what we had, the more she resisted.

I should’ve known then. I should’ve seen that I was losing her.

But no. I refused to accept it. I refused to believe she’d walk away from me. I needed her. Needed her to stay close. To still be the one person who didn’t look at me like I was some joke. Like I was someone beneath them.

She didn’t understand how much I needed her—how much I needed anyone who could make me feel like I mattered.

So when I confronted her that day, I thought it would make sense. I thought if I just told her, laid it all out in front of her, she’d understand why I’d changed. Why I couldn’t be the same meek person I used to be. Why I had to step up.

But she didn’t understand. She didn’t see. She just looked at me with those disappointed eyes like I was some monster. She kept saying, “You’ve changed,” like I was supposed to stay the same. Like I wasn’t allowed to grow or be something more than the quiet, forgotten boy I used to be.

“You’re not the same anymore, Beom-seok.”

Those words cut deep, deeper than anything else she said. I could hear them in my mind every time I closed my eyes. But the worst part? She said it like it was my fault. Like I wanted to be this way. Like I chose to become someone who made her hate me.

I didn’t.

But when she rejected me—when she left me behind for Suho and his perfect world, his perfect everything—it made me hate her, too. Hate her for leaving me. Hate Suho for standing in my way. And most of all, I hated myself for being too weak to keep her.

I tried to pull her back. I had to. I couldn’t stand to watch her move on, pretend like I didn’t exist anymore. Like I wasn’t the guy who had always been there for her. She had been everything to me.

Everything.

When I grabbed her arm that day in the rain, the anger didn’t come from nowhere. It was years of resentment building up. It was all those nights I spent alone, watching her walk away from me and into someone else’s arms. It was the fear—the fear that if I didn’t do something, I’d lose her for good.

She pushed me. Hard.

And the rage exploded out of me. Everything I’d been holding in. Everything that had been building for weeks. I couldn’t control it. Couldn’t stop myself.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, her voice trembling. But I didn’t care.

I couldn’t care.

“I should’ve known,” I heard myself say, barely able to keep the venom out of my voice. “You’re just like the rest of them.”

And then I hit her.

The moment I saw her flinch, I realized what I had done. But it was too late. I couldn’t take it back.

But I couldn’t stop. Because once the words were out, once I’d struck her, all I could think about was how she’d abandoned me. How she turned her back and walked away from everything we had, just for him.

“Just for him,” I whispered to myself.

She looked at me with horror in her eyes, and that was when I realized she was gone. I had destroyed everything. The person who meant the most to me, the person I’d trusted… I had broken her, and there was no going back.

When she crumbled, when her knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed, I didn’t feel satisfaction. I didn’t feel power. All I felt was a hollow, empty space where I used to have a heart.

She was right to leave me.

I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t make it better.

And the worst part? I never had her to begin with. Not in the way I thought.

She was never really mine.

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— natalie díaz, from “american arithmetic”, postcolonial love poem (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

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To have knowledge is to feel pain.

The more you know the more it will hurt.

Understanding only leads to self corruption.

Ignorance is bliss,

And the only time you’ll realise that is once you’ve known too far already.

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I just want to loose 20kg overnight is this too much to ask 😭

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or rewatching the same movie / show

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“Strike for Strike”

Pairing: Ahn Suho x Reader

Length: Like 2000 words??

Genre: idk like Romance, Drama, Comfort, Revenge

Warnings: Violence, blood, emotional trauma, broken bones, intense angst, protective Suho, mutual pining

Summary: After Beom-seok (your former friend) beats you so badly your arm ends up broken, Ahn Suho can’t sit still. What he does that night changes everything between you.

⸻

The hospital room was too bright.

Sterile white light bounced off polished tiles and smooth walls, washing out your already pale face. Your arm sat in a sling across your chest, the bruises spreading down your forearm in a sick purple bloom. The doctors said you were lucky—hairline fracture, not a full break. You weren’t sure if you agreed.

Across the room, Ahn Suho stood in the corner, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He hadn’t said much since you got out of surgery. Just hovered. Watched. His jaw had been clenched so tight you were afraid it would crack.

You hated that he saw you like this—beaten, broken, silent. You hated even more that you couldn’t lie about who had done it.

“You should rest,” he finally said, voice low and flat.

You didn’t respond.

Suho walked to your bedside and crouched down, finally meeting your eyes. His brows were furrowed with something unreadable—anger, guilt, sorrow, maybe all three.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he whispered.

Your throat tightened. “I thought… maybe he wouldn’t go that far.”

“Beom-seok broke your arm.”

You flinched—not at the words, but at the way he said them. Like he was holding back a hurricane.

Suho rose. “I’m going out.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ll be back,” he said, already walking away. “Stay here.”

You grabbed at his sleeve with your good hand. “Suho, don’t—”

But he was already gone.

⸻

Suho’s fists clenched and unclenched as he moved through the cold streets. He knew where Beom-seok would be. He’d always been predictable like that—corner of the old school building, the back alley behind the convenience store, alone with his rot.

He hadn’t said anything when you told him. Just listened while your voice cracked around the memory of fists and betrayal. Beom-seok, your childhood friend. The one who smiled too much, who always needed saving—until the power flipped. Until he hurt you, because it made him feel strong.

Suho wasn’t going to let that slide.

The wind bit at his cheeks as he rounded the corner—and there he was. Beom-seok. Smoking something cheap, headphones in. Unbothered. Untouched.

Suho’s blood boiled.

“Hey,” he barked.

Beom-seok looked up, brows raised. “Suho? What—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Suho didn’t give him time to fall properly. He grabbed his collar and drove his knee into Beom-seok’s ribs, once, twice, until the other boy gasped, coughing blood onto the pavement.

“You think you can touch her and walk away?” Suho growled.

Beom-seok spat. “She deserved it.”

Suho saw red.

He didn’t hold back. Fists slammed into cheekbones and jawlines, until his own knuckles split open and blood sprayed across his hoodie. Beom-seok tried to fight back, but it was pathetic. Weak. The cowardice oozed off him like a stink.

“You think that makes you a man?” Suho hissed, dragging Beom-seok up by the hair. “You broke her fucking arm, and for what? Because she walked away from your sorry ass?”

“She turned her back on me first,” Beom-seok snarled through swollen lips. “She left me alone!”

“You did that to yourself.”

Suho threw him down like garbage and stood over him, breathing hard. His voice dropped to a low, vicious murmur. “If you ever go near her again, I swear—there won’t be a next time.”

⸻

You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t—not with the weight of what you knew Suho was doing.

When the door creaked open just past 2 a.m., you were sitting up in the hospital bed, good arm clutching the blanket to your chest. Suho stepped inside, hoodie torn, knuckles wrapped in bloodied gauze.

You stared at him.

He didn’t speak. Just walked over, dropped into the chair beside you, and leaned forward, elbows on knees.

“Did you… did you hurt him?”

He didn’t look at you. “Yeah.”

“Bad?”

“Not as bad as he deserved.”

You swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.”

You were silent for a while, eyes fixed on his busted hands.

“He could’ve—he might retaliate,” you whispered.

Suho looked at you then, eyes sharp, almost wild. “Let him try.”

You reached out, trembling slightly, and gently laid your fingers over the back of his hand. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“You didn’t need to protect me like that,” you said softly.

He turned his hand under yours, curling his fingers around your palm.

“I always protect what’s mine,” he said. “Even if you don’t let me.”

Your breath hitched. “I’m not yours.”

His gaze dropped to your lips. “Aren’t you?”

⸻

The next few days blurred. You were discharged from the hospital. Suho insisted on walking you home, shadowing you like a silent guardian. He didn’t bring up the fight again—but you knew the aftermath was still rippling beneath his skin.

He brought you your favorite snacks. Sat beside you while you watched movies. Glared at anyone who so much as looked at you sideways in the halls.

He didn’t ask for anything in return.

But one night, a week later, when the bruises were still there but your heart hurt more than your body—you asked him to stay.

He sat on the edge of your bed while you curled beneath your blanket, injured arm resting in a pillow cradle. His hoodie was too big on you. His scent wrapped around you like safety.

“Why did you do it?” you whispered into the dark. “Why risk that for me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then:

“Because you matter to me.”

Your chest tightened. “We weren’t even that close before.”

“We should’ve been.”

Silence.

Then you said the thing that scared you most.

“I was scared you’d hate me for getting involved with Beom-seok in the first place.”

Suho turned his head slowly. “I hated him. Never you.”

You bit your lip. “Even now?”

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face, thumb trailing along your cheekbone.

“Especially not now,” he murmured.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was full of everything he’d been holding back—rage, fear, relief, longing. Your hand fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours like he’d been starving, and you gave in, melted, let the hurt fall away for a moment.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

⸻

Beom-seok disappeared for a while after that. Rumors swirled—he transferred schools, his father got involved, there was even talk of charges. You didn’t care. Not anymore.

Because Suho never left.

When your cast came off, he was there, fingers ghosting over your healed arm like it was sacred. When nightmares woke you up, he answered his phone on the first ring, even at 3 a.m.

You started calling him “mine” in your head long before you said it out loud.

It happened one afternoon, a month later. You were sitting on the school rooftop, wind tugging at your hair, his hand warm in yours.

“You remember what you said?” you asked. “About protecting what’s yours?”

He turned to you, eyes dark and steady. “Yeah.”

You smiled faintly. “I think I’m ready to be yours.”

Suho didn’t smile. He just leaned in, pressed his lips to your temple, and whispered, “Good.”

Because you already were.

ANYONE WANT A LITTLE FLASHBACK TO WHEN BEOM-SEOK AND READER FELL OUT???