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levandright · 3 months ago

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𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

their favorite way to show their love for you is through — giftsꜝꜝ

if you enjoyed reading this consider leaving a like or reblog ᐢ..ᐢ

pairing ⋆ ot7 enhypen x gn! reader ʬʬ content / warning(s) ⋆ extra extra soft fluff, established relationship, non-idol au, just enha spoiling you with gifts <3 ꕀ word count : 1,637 ʬʬ go back to the start? ・ archive ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : i wrote the whole thing with good thing by nct 127 on repeat and i think it did something to my brain. after making this i now want someone to gift like the boys do- cause the hell man :(( i envy their relationship its so cute T-T (i literally wrote this) thx for proofreading and editing this again twin <3 (gotta make sure twin gets their recognition)

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 - plushies

you come home to find a familiar pink gift bag sitting on your bed, decorated with little hearts and a note in heesung’s handwriting: “a little something for your collection—hope they make you smile! - hee”

excitedly, you peek inside, immediately spotting the cute sanrio tags and soft pastel colors. you pull out not one, but three adorable plushies—my melody, cinnamoroll, and hello kitty, each one perfectly cuddly and looking up at you with their iconic smiles.

just as you’re hugging my melody close, heesung steps into the room, a shy grin on his face as he watches your reaction. “i couldn’t decide on one,” he admits, scratching his head. “so i figured… why not get them all?”

you can’t stop smiling as you place the plushies carefully among the others on your shelf, each one finding its perfect spot. “they’re perfect,” you say, turning to give him a grateful hug. “you know me so well.”

he chuckles, returning the hug. “i love seeing your face light up every time. besides your collection wouldn’t be complete without the whole sanrio squad, right?”

with a laugh, you look back at the shelf, feeling warm inside. thanks to heesung your little plushie family just got a lot bigger.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 - clothes

you’re scrolling through your phone when you get a text from jay: “check your doorstep!”

curious, you open the door to find a large shopping bag sitting outside. you bring it inside, already knowing who it’s from. as you pull out one dress after another—soft fabrics in different colors, some with delicate lace, others with simple elegance—you can’t help but laugh, imagining jay going through the store and picking each one out.

a moment later, he shows up at your door, grinning like he’s just won a prize. “so, what do you think? i couldn’t decide on just one, so i got you…options,” he says with a wink.

“options?” you tease, holding up a deep blue dress. “jay, you bought out the whole store!”

he shrugs, unbothered. “i just wanted you to have the best. besides, i know you have that event coming up, and i wanted you to feel amazing.”

you shake your head, touched. “you’re too much, you know that?”

he grins, gently nudging you toward the mirror. “go try one on, just to see how perfect you look.”

with a smile, you head to change, grateful for his thoughtfulness and the joy he finds in seeing you happy.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 - perfume

you’re sitting on your bed, flipping through a magazine, when you hear a light knock on your door. “hey, can I come in?” jake’s familliar voice calls out from the other side.

“sure!” you reply, setting the magazine aside. as he steps in, you notice he’s holding a beautifully wrapped box, the corners tied with a silky ribbon.

“what’s this?” you asked curiously.

jake grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “open it and see!”

you carefully unwrap the box, revealing a stunning bottle of your favorite perfume, the one you always rave about. the familiar shape of the bottle brings an instant smile to your face. “jake! you remembered!”

“of course i did! i always remember,” he says, pride evident in his voice. “i figured it was time to restock your collection. i know how much you love this scent.”

you get up and give him a warm hug, breathing in the comforting mix of his cologne and the fresh scent of the perfume. “you always know how to make me happy. thank you!”

he chuckles, pulling back to look at you. “i just want to make sure you never run out. you wear it so well.”

you shake your head in delight, placing the perfume on your vanity. “i’ll always think of you when I wear it,” you say, feeling grateful for his thoughtful gesture.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 - chocolate

you’re at your desk, sorting through some papers, when you notice a familiar small box tucked beside your things. smiling, you pick it up and read the note stuck on top: “just because. - sunghoon.”

opening it, you’re greeted by the rich aroma of chocolate—a collection of your favorite flavors. dark, milk, hazelnut-filled, and even a few fruit-infused truffles.

it’s the third time this week sunghoon has surprised you with chocolate, each box seemingly chosen with extra care.

later, as you’re enjoying a piece, sunghoon walks in, catching you mid-bite.

“caught you!” he teases, grinning as he leans against the doorframe. “how’s today’s selection of sweets?”

you laugh, holding up the chocolate box. “perfect as always. i still don’t know how you manage to get these here without me noticing.”

he shrugs, looking pleased. “i have my ways,” he says, pretending to be mysterious. then, with a softer smile, he adds, “i just like knowing that you’re never without a little something sweet.”

you smile, feeling warmth spread through you. “well, thanks to you my lovely boyfriend, i’ve never been happier—or more stocked on chocolate.”

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 - jewelry

one quiet afternoon, sunoo shows up at your door with a mysterious grin and a small, velvet box in his hand.

“what’s that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued as he invites himself in and settles onto the couch beside you.

he just smiles, handing you the box without a word. inside, nestled against the satin, is a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with a tiny charm shaped like a star. your eyes widen in surprise as you look up at him. “sunoo, it’s beautiful! you didn’t have to…”

but he’s already lifting his wrist to show you a matching bracelet around his own. “it’s not just for you,” he says, looking at you with a gentle smile. “it’s for us. i found these and thought it would be a nice reminder… something we can both wear.”

a warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you turn the bracelet over in your hand. “it’s perfect. thank you, sunoo.”

he beams, taking the bracelet from you and gently fastening it around your wrist. “now, every time you see it, you’ll know we’re connected—even if we’re not together.”

you reach out, holding his hand, and squeeze it. “i love it, really. but i love you more.”

he laughs, giving your hand a playful squeeze back. “good, because that’s the part of the gift i’m hoping you’ll keep forever.”

you both sit there, admiring your matching bracelets, feeling closer than ever as the sunlight filters through the room, casting a gentle glow over both of you.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 - flowers

the soft chime of the doorbell echoes through the house, pulling you from your cozy spot on the couch. you rise, curious about who could be at the door. as you open it, a burst of color greets you: jungwon stands there with a bright bouquet of flowers in hand, a broad smile stretching across his face.

“surprise!” he exclaims, presenting the bouquet like a trophy. the flowers are vibrant, a mix of sunflowers, daisies, and wildflowers, their sweet scent filling the air.

your eyes widen, and a smile blooms on your face. “oh, jungwon! they’re beautiful!” you reach out to take them, feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm radiate towards you.

“i thought you could use a little brightness today,” he says, stepping inside. “i know you’ve been busy with work and school, so i wanted to remind you that you’re doing an amazing job.”

you feel a swell of gratitude as you breathe in the flowers’ fresh scent. “you always know how to make my day better,” you reply, feeling the weight of your stress start to lift.

“i just love seeing that smile on your face,” he says, his voice sincere. “you deserve to be reminded how wonderful you are.”

as you arrange the flowers in a vase, jungwon leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. “every time you look at them, i want you to remember that you’re loved, no matter how tough things get.”

you glance back at him, your heart warming at his words. “thank you, jungwon . this really means a lot to me.”

he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you know i’ll always be here for you, right? just like these flowers, i’ll always try to bring a little color into your life.”

you lean into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace. “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he kisses your temple gently, and you close your eyes, savoring the moment. with jungwon by your side and flowers brightening the room, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you’ll face them with a smile.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 - sunglasses

riki practically skips over to you, a mischievous grin plastered across his face and his hands hidden behind his back. you give him a curious look, and he finally reveals what he’s holding: two pairs of sunglasses, both sleek and stylish with tinted lenses.

“tada~ matching sunglasses,” he announces proudly, handing you one of the pairs. “i figured it was time to make you as cool as me.”

you laugh, slipping them on. “so, does this mean i get honorary 'riki’s fashion sidekick' status now?”

he nods, adjusting his own sunglasses as he strikes a dramatic pose. “absolutely. now we can both look this good,” he teases, winking at you from behind the lenses.

the two of you step out into the sunlight, instantly feeling like the coolest duo around. you both take turns posing, doing mock runway walks and playfully pointing at each other like you’re celebrities. riki laughs every time you strike a ridiculous pose, clutching his sides with giggles.

eventually, you both settle down, leaning against a wall, still wearing the shades and smiling widely at each other. “i think we should make this our thing,” riki says, nudging you. “matching sunglasses, everywhere we go.”

you nod, grinning. “agreed. it’s our official look.”

perm taglist. @honeychocos @kozumesphone @manaah02 (open)

wyll taglist. @lilly-cherry7 (comment or ask to be added)

©levandright

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tbaluver · 6 months ago

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hello there ! firstly, i wanted to tell you that i genuinely love your writing bc of the amazing characterization of the lnds boys !!! i wanted to request smth myself <3 feel free to ignore this if it's smth not within your taste !

i just recently thought that it would be cute to have a reader with a disney princess-like voice singing lullabies ! it could be their child or someone they babysit ! you could do any of the lnds boys that react to this but personally i'd like to see zayne (mainly bc he'd probably see reader at the hospital's kids area doing this !) and sylus, please ! thank you for your writing, we adore it ! ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡

When They Hear You Singing A Lullaby- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: eeeee anonnie i'm so happy to hear you love my writings it always makes me day !! im always grateful and love your guys support for my silly writings ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) i hope this is alright and that you enjoy this anonnie ! and also this emoticon is so cute omg i'm going to use this often ฅᐢ..ᐢ₎♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You thought he would be sound asleep when he was over at your place when you were babysitting one of your co-workers baby. The baby wasn't necessarily fussy at all with you but it started crying because it couldn't go to sleep. It woke Xavier up and he followed the sound of the crying down the hall until he overheard you singing a lullaby.

He would peek through the door to hear and watch you put the baby back to sleep. He watches in pure adoration, a soft smile spreading across his face. After you gently set the baby down, he approaches you slowly, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder. "You sang so beautifully," He whispers softly, careful not to disturb the baby. "Can you sing me to sleep next?"

"As if you need any help sleeping" You joked but you did it anyway. You sang a soft lullaby as he rested his head on your chest. He drifted off to sleep almost instantly, a soft smile on his face, before you could even finish the song

Zayne:

While waiting for Zayne to finish his shift at the hospital, you received a text from him apologizing for the delay; he needed to discuss an upcoming operation with his colleagues. You texted him to take his time and began exploring the familiar hospital halls. As you wandered, you found yourself in the children’s area, admiring the colorful murals that brighten the space. Your growing hunger led you in search of a vending machine, but instead, you encountered a crying familiar child patient. You remember this child when you collected their drawings for the charity event you and Zayne helped with.

You crouch down to meet eye level with the child asking if they needed any assistance or if they needed a nurse but they simply shook their head saying that they can't find the nurse and that they can't sleep. They tugged your arm and asked if you can tell them a story or sing them a lullaby and you were more than happy to help out.

After finishing his shift, Zayne looked for you in the work hallway, but it was empty. He texted you but got no response, so he followed your shared location. As he approached, he heard you singing a familiar children's lullaby. Peeking through the door, he saw your back turned as you sang. He didn't want to interrupt but wanted to hear the whole song for himself too, captivated by your delicate and graceful voice. He was literally melting on the spot as he heard you sing. A smile would slowly spreading across his lips.

He's heard you humming before, usually when your doing your work or when you were helping him out in the kitchen. You let your mind drift off just a little bit as you hummed some of your favorite melodies. He already knew you had a beautiful voice but every time he tried to comment on it, your cheeks would heat up in embarrassment.

Lost in thought, Zayne was startled when you both unexpected crossed paths. You jumped as you emerged from the room, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, worried that he had heard everything. He spoke first, "There is no reason to be flustered. I think you have a beautiful voice and it's certainly comforting. Whenever you are comfortable I would like to hear more of it."

Rafayel:

He was over at your house while you babysat one of your co-workers baby for the day. He asked if you needed any help when the baby started crying but you said it was okay as you ran off the go tend to the baby while he continued sketching on his sketchbook.

That's when he hears your voice. He sets aside his pencil and sketchbook, stopping his work to peek through the doorway. There, he watches you sing a lullaby while gently cradling the baby. He would think that your voice was beautiful and enchanting that seemed to effortlessly captivate all who hears it.

When you gently put the baby back down to it's bed, he'll be upset. Not literally. But upset that he hasn't heard you sing him a lullaby or ever heard you sing first or at all. He would pout and want you to sing him a lullaby immediately.

When you do, he falls asleep on your shoulder while he was sketching so when he wakes up he thinks your secretly full Leumurian because he hasn't heard a beautiful voice like that years ago.

Sylus:

While Sylus was away on business, you let him know that you were busy taking care of your coworker's baby at your shared home. To be prepared, you had Luke and Kieran on standby in case you needed a break. When the baby began to cry, you swiftly picked them up, cradling them and singing a soothing song. Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran lingered in the hallway, and one of them decided to record your sweet singing and send it to Sylus, giggling as they did so knowing that he would love this.

As night fell and your coworker came to collect their baby, Sylus arrived shortly afterward. “Two little crows mentioned you can sing, sweetie. Is that true?” A blush spread across your cheeks, realizing that the twins had set you up once again. "I wish I could have been there to hear it myself. A video is not the same to hearing your mesmerizing voice in person."

Although he finds it amusing and adorable, he would ask if you could sing him a song to help him unwind because the business he dealt with was stressful. He wouldn't pressure you to sing him a lullaby but he would reassure you that your voice was already one of his favorite sounds already and nothing would ruin that.

That seemed to ease your worries, and as you both settled into bed, you let him unwind. You sang the same lullaby to him that you’d sung to the baby. Your gentle voice was incredibly soothing, wrapping him in a warmth and coziness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite his usual trouble with sleep, your voice made his eyelids grow heavy, a contented smile spreading across his lips as he drifted off.

It was no surprise that he loved hearing you sing and you having this skill made him think that it made you more beautiful to him than you already were.

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girasois · 1 year ago

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words for users !

ideias de palavras aleatórias para ajudar você a criar seu próprio user;

random ideas of words to help you to create your own user.

core -> aesthetic core

vlog -> daily videos

logs -> daily facts

mp3 -> audio file format

m4p -> apple audio file format

mp4 -> video file format

txt -> text format

jpeg -> image file format

jpg -> image file format

png -> image file format

gif -> animated file format

raw -> uncompressed file format

zip -> compressed archive file format

rar -> compressed archive file format

web -> internet file format

doc -> document file

pdf -> document file

vinyl -> phonograph record

film -> motion picture; photography

user -> person who utilizes a computer or network service

i2 -> "keeping it real"

self -> a person's essential being

itself -> a person's essential being

priv -> private

luv -> love's short form

tale -> a fictitious or true narrative or story

archive -> to place or store (something) in an archive

list -> connected items

tier -> a type of hierarchy

talk -> speak in order to express something

chat -> to have a conversation

post -> to announce or publish something

zone -> a subject to particular restrictions

vie -> life in french

tie -> to form a knot or bow in

on/online -> connected to a network

byte -> a group of binary digits

bits -> a small piece, part, or quantity of something

ram -> hardware in a computing device

8bit -> computer term used to designate either color depth

pixel -> a minute area of illumination on a display screen

data -> things known or assumed as facts

series -> a number of things, events, or people of a similar kind

village -> a self-contained community within a town or city

lab -> a laboratory

lady -> a woman

miss -> a form of address to a woman

mister -> a form of address to a man

error -> something not found

art -> the various branches of creative activity

petit -> small in french

poet -> a person possessing special powers of imagination or expression

thing -> an object without a specific name

stuff -> a vague reference to additional things

vogue -> the prevailing fashion or style at a particular time

tv -> taylor's version and/or television as a system or form of media

media -> the main means of mass communication

topia -> an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect

saur -> forming names of extinct reptiles such as dinosaurs

tune -> a melody, one that characterizes a particular piece of music

deun -> melody in deutsch

off/offline -> disconnected from the Internet

gloss -> shine or luster on a smooth surface

fae -> a fairy, in modern fantasy fiction

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scene-iii · 4 months ago

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OKAY WAIT. (i only have a loose idea of the tnbc event thanks to translations BUT WHAT IF)

Skully is one of the few members of Ramshackle Dorm, & during a trip to Foothill Town, he stumbles across the Nightmare Before Christmas book. He's sucked in and meets the NRC students. The story plays out and he's sent back to his time, centuries before any of his new friends are born.

He doesn't know this, of course, having forgotten everything. But there's this feeling of want in his chest, not only for a grand Halloween (a day full of life for the dead, much different from his previous ideals) but also for a friend.

He's always longed for friends, but why does his heart ache like he just lost one?

It takes some time, maybe a few weeks, as he tries to decipher his thoughts and feelings to figure out what's wrong. He spends most of his time planning the perfect Halloween to bring the holiday back onto the calendar; something more inviting, something that'll spread the joy he's recently begun to feel about the holiday.

"What gets people up and running? Hm... Perhaps music? Haunting and jaunty melodies would suffice... Why not dance as well...?!"

"Oh, I do adore a pitch-black pallet, but... There's no harm in adding color, right? It's all the rage these days anyways... Perhaps orange, to match pumpkins would be a good start?"

He's not quite sure where these ideas came from, but the ghosts of Ramshackle seem enthusiastic when he shares his thoughts. He has no one else to listen to his plans, and decides, what's the harm with talking to the ghosts? (The ghosts are pleasantly surprised at Skully's change of heart, and will do all they can to encourage this new path.)

Eventually, Skully begins to remember bits and pieces of his time in the book ("I could never forget an encounter with the lovely Jack-sama!" He says. Really, it's the idea of the friends he made that claw the event to the front of his mind).

Most of all, he remembers a magicless human. Oh, how sweet they were, even when he made some rash decisions. Among all the boys in his tale, the beast tamer was his closest companion—even if it were only for a little while.

He recounts the adventure in the book as best he can to the ghosts, seeing as no one else could believe him. A magical book that takes you far away? Who ever heard of that? The ghosts hang on his every word, laughing and gasping at the wonderous characters in Skully's story.

Halloween is a hit at NRC, and once he graduates, Skully decides to share Halloween with the rest of the world. The ghosts wave their old friend goodbye and safe travels, watching him part with spectral tears in their eyes.

The years pass, with Skully now departing from this world, and Ramshackle has fallen into ruin.

Until one day, a magicless beast tamer arrives in Twisted Wonderland, and is sent to live in Ramshackle.

The ghosts are overjoyed at having company after so long, but they can't help but be excited for a different reason.

After all, the King of Halloween's dearest friend has finally appeared.

#twst #twst yuu #twisted wonderland #twst skully #skully j graves #ramshackle #ramshackle prefect #pen to paper

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teine-mallaichte · 7 months ago

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Let's talk hallucinations in whump/general fiction.

So first off full disclosure, I have schizoaffective disorder - think some bits of bipolar and some bits of schizophrenia kind of squished together, and as such hallucinations are a BIG part of my general existence.

Definition: A hallucination is a perception of a sensory experience—such as sight, sound, smell, taste, or touch—that appears real but is created by the mind and lacks an external stimulus.

Now, I see a fair few "hallucinations" type prompts in whump events, and just generally within the whump community, and I see a LOT of auditory hallucinations type prompt fills - mainly in the form of malevolent whispers - and ye that's a thing, but there are so many other hallucinations.

The thing is hallucinations can effect literally any sense, not just hearing - though I will add that auditory is usually regarded as the most common.

this is a long post so I am going to put a cut here... below the cut is exploration of the tyoes of hallucination, the causes and a bit about insight.

So, I thought it could be "fun" to explore a few in a post. Lets explore the 5 "main" senses first:

Auditory Hallucinations

Description: These are the most common type of hallucinations. They involve hearing sounds that are not present. The sounds are hear as if they are coming from somewhere external to the body. So in my case I have a few of these, but my main one is a voice who is with me even when I am in meds (another good point there for anyone who wants to use mental illness in their fics even in meds we can do have symptoms). This voice has a name and most of the time he just sorts off passes comments about things and people around me, like a sarcastic narrator and it sounds like he is standing just behind me.

Common Examples:

Malevolent Whispers: Insidious voices that might threaten, taunt, or belittle you.

Hearing Music: Melodies or songs playing that no one else can hear. For me this kind of sounds like someone is playing a radio in a different room.

Environmental Sounds: Hearing footsteps, doors creaking, or other sounds suggesting someone else is present.

Command Hallucinations: Voices that instruct or suggest (its not always ademand, sometimes more subtle and manipulative) you to do certain things, often with a compelling and distressing sense of urgency.

Less used examples:

Kind/supportive hallucinations: Voices that are encouraging, reassuring and supportive.

Distortion: Rather than sounds with no origin hallucinations that disort or warp actual sounds/voices changing the meaning, making it as if the TV or Radio is addressing you personally, making it sound as if a friend is threatening you.

Fun fact: it actually is possible to have a two way (sort of) conversation with a hallucination - I know I do it relatively often. It will be different for everyone, but fo me its a bit like having a conversation on a bad phoneline, yes the voice will respond but often its almost as if he hasn't fully heard what I said - or is ignoring key points. I can do this both outloud and "in my head".

Visual Hallucinations

Description: Visual hallucinations involve seeing things that are not present. These can range from simple shapes and flashes of light to detailed images or scenes. They often appear as if they are in the physical world and can be very convincing.

Common Examples:

Shadowy Figures: Seeing indistinct, shadowy forms that may move or appear to watch the character.

Distorted Faces: Perceiving familiar faces as grotesque or altered in frightening ways.

Apparitions: Full-bodied figures that may interact with the character or appear menacing.

Lights/sparkles: The whump community seems to very much enjoy lights and sparkles, especially in drugging.

Less Used Examples:

Intrusive Visuals: Images of disturbing or graphic nature that suddenly appear in your line of sight.

Perceptual Distortions: Objects appearing to warp, change shape, or color in unnatural ways.

Double Vision: Seeing multiples of objects or people, creating a confusing and disorienting experience.

Scenery Shifts: The entire environment changes, making you believe they are in a completely different place.

Fun fact: Sleep deprivation can cause some wild visual hallucinations, even relatively "mild" sleep deprivation can start to effect a persons perceptions.

Gustatory Hallucinations

Description: Gustatory hallucinations involve tasting things that are not actually present in the mouth. These can range from pleasant to extremely unpleasant tastes and can be triggered without any external food or drink.

Officially these are considered "rare", but personally (as someone who has done a lot of peer support work in the psychosis/voice hearing community I think they are simply under reported.)

Common Examples:

Bitter or Metallic Taste: A persistent bitter or metallic taste in the mouth, often leading to a sense of unease or concern about poisoning.

Sweet or Sour Taste: Tasting something sweet or sour unexpectedly, which can be confusing if it doesn’t match the current context.

Less Used Examples:

Spoiled Food: Tasting something rancid or spoiled, causing nausea and distress.

Unfamiliar Tastes: Tasting something completely unfamiliar and hard to describe, adding to the character's sense of disorientation.

Mimicking Actual Foods: Tasting specific foods that trigger cravings or aversions, despite not eating anything.

Transforming food: Food tasting like other food - I know someone for whom everything tasted like strawberries for days.

Common Causes: Neurological conditions or can be a side effect of medications.

Olfactory Hallucinations

Description: Olfactory hallucinations involve smelling odors that are not actually present. These can be pleasant or unpleasant and occur without any corresponding external stimulus. They can be particularly disorienting because they may trigger memories or emotions associated with certain scents - extremely complex if the person also has PTSD.

Common Examples:

Burning Smell: Wood, rubber, or food, which can lead to panic and fear of a fire.

Rotting Flesh: An overpowering smell of decay or rotting flesh, causing distress and nausea.

Perfume or Flowers: Smelling strong scents like flowers or perfume - hallucinations don't have to be inherently unpleasant sensations.

Less Used Examples:

Chemical Smells: Smelling chemicals like bleach or petrol.

Unfamiliar Scents: Smelling odors that you cannot identify.

Food Smells: Smelling specific foods that trigger hunger or nausea, despite the absence of any actual food.

Tactile Hallucinations

Description: Tactile hallucinations involve feeling sensations on or under the skin that are not actually there. These can range from mild tingling to severe pain and can be extremely distressing.

Common Examples:

Crawling Sensation: Feeling as though insects or bugs are crawling on or under the skin - often leading to frantic scratching or picking.

Electric Shocks: Experiencing sudden, sharp, electric-like jolts.

Pressure: Feeling pressure or tightness around certain body parts, such as a hand gripping the arm or something heavy on the chest.

Less Used Examples:

Temperature Changes: Feeling extreme cold or heat on the skin without any external cause.

Wetness or Dripping: Feeling as though liquid is dripping or running down the skin, even when dry.

Phantom Touches: Sensations of being touched or grabbed, often when alone. Sometimes its an almost feather like touch, other times its more akin to a grab that if reak would leave a bruise.

Right now let's expand - because there are more than 5 senses.

Proprioceptive Hallucinations

Description: Proprioception is the sense of the relative positioning of one's body parts. Proprioceptive hallucinations involve distorted perceptions of where your body is in space or how it is moving.

Common Examples:

Floating Sensation: Feeling as if the body is levitating or moving without control.

Distorted Body Size: Perceiving limbs or the entire body as being unnaturally large or small.

Less Used Examples:

Misaligned Limbs: Feeling as though limbs are twisted or out of place.

Movement Hallucinations: Sensing movements that aren't occurring, like swaying or rotating.

Common causes: Neurological disorders or the effects of certain drugs, but can by caused by a huge array of things.

Vestibular Hallucinations

Description: Vestibular sensations involve balance and spatial orientation. Vestibular hallucinations affect your sense of balance, making you feel dizzy or as though you're moving when you're stationary.

Common Examples:

Vertigo: A spinning sensation, as if the environment or oneself is rotating.

Imbalance: Feeling as though you're about to fall over or can't maintain your balance.

Less Used Examples:

Motion Sensation: Sensing movement, like rocking or swaying, when you're still.

Gravity Distortions: Feeling as if gravity is stronger or weaker than it actually is.

Common caused: Inner ear issues, migraines, or anxiety.

Temporal Hallucinations

Description: Temporal hallucinations involve distorted perceptions of time. They can make time feel like it's speeding up, slowing down, or standing still.

Common Examples:

Time Dilation: Feeling as though time is passing much slower than it actually is.

Time Compression: Perceiving time as moving rapidly, making events feel like they're passing in a blur.

Less Used Examples:

Frozen Moments: Experiencing time as if it's stopped, with everything around you appearing frozen.

Temporal Displacement: Feeling as though you're living in a different time period.

Temporal Dissonance: Feeling as if time is moving differently for you in comparison to those around you.

Common caused: Extreme fatigue, high stress, or under the influence of certain drugs.

Interoceptive Hallucinations

Description: Interoception refers to the perception of sensations from within the body, such as hunger, thirst, or the feeling of a heartbeat. Hallucinations in this realm involve feeling internal sensations that aren't actually occurring.

Common Examples:

False Hunger: Feeling extremely hungry despite having eaten recently.

Nonexistent Thirst: An intense sense of thirst even when well-hydrated - I have had this one a few times and given myself electrolyte imbalances due tot he amount of water I ended up drinking (not fun).

Less Used Examples:

Phantom Heartbeats: Feeling the heart racing or skipping beats without any physical basis.

Digestive Sensations: Sensations of digestion, such as gurgling or bloating, without any real cause.

Common causes: Panic disorder or certain types of seizures.

Right, now lets quickly review the main "causes" of hallucinations

Mental Illness:

Schizophrenia: Can involve basically anything from this list, but anecdotally auditory and visual appear to be the most common.

Bipolar Disorder: Can include hallucinations, especially during manic or depressive episodes.

Schizoaffective Disorder: A combination of symptoms from both schizophrenia and mood disorders, often leading to a variety of hallucinations.

EUPD/BPD: Auditory hallucinations are relatively common.

In all of these the hallucinations will rarely (if ever) exist in isolation. If you do not have primary or secondary experience of mental illness then I would recommend doing a LOT of research - and talking to people who do (on this note my asks are open if anyone has any schizoaffective based questions).

Neurological Conditions:

Epilepsy: Particularly temporal lobe epilepsy, can cause a range of sensory hallucinations.

Parkinson's Disease: Can lead to visual and auditory hallucinations.

Migraine: Migraine auras can include visual and auditory hallucinations.

Once again the hallucinations will not be in isolatation so same advice as with mental illness.

Substance Use and Withdrawal:

Psychedelics: Drugs like LSD, psilocybin, and mescaline are known for causing vivid visual and auditory hallucinations.

Stimulants: Methamphetamine and cocaine can cause tactile and visual hallucinations.

Alcohol Withdrawal: Can lead to visual, auditory, and tactile hallucinations.

You know what I am going to say that my "if you do not have experience of this then go talk to someone who does" advice may just stand for every potential cause.

Sleep Disorders:

Sleep Deprivation: Can cause a variety of hallucinations across different senses.

Narcolepsy: Often includes hypnagogic (while falling asleep) and hypnopompic (while waking up) hallucinations.

Medical Conditions:

Delirium: Acute confusion and hallucinations often seen in severe infections, fever, or after surgery.

Dementia: Especially Lewy body dementia and Alzheimer's disease, can cause hallucinations.

Medications:

Anticholinergics: Can cause hallucinations as a side effect.

Steroids: High doses can sometimes lead to hallucinations.

Certain Antidepressants and Antipsychotics: Occasionally, these medications can cause hallucinations.

Psychological Stress and Trauma:

PTSD: Flashbacks and hallucinations related to traumatic events.

Extreme Stress: Can sometimes trigger hallucinations.

Metabolic and Endocrine Disorders:

Thyroid Disorders: Hyperthyroidism or hypothyroidism can sometimes cause hallucinations.

Electrolyte Imbalances: Severe imbalances can lead to hallucinations.

Deprivation:

Sensory Deprivation: Go google the ganzfeld effect, it's facinating.

Isolation: Extended periods of isolation can lead to hallucinations, known as sensory deprivation hallucinations.

Autoimmune Disorders:

Lupus: Can cause neurological symptoms including hallucinations.

Tumors:

Brain Tumors: Depending on their location, they can cause hallucinations affecting different senses.

Ok, finally point for this post. Let's discuss insight, because it is not as black/white or binary as people seem to assume.

Definition: Insight, in this context, refers to the awareness and understanding that one's hallucinations are not real but are a product of their mind. Insight can be partial or complete, and it often fluctuates.

Complete Insight:

Description: The individual fully understands that their hallucinations are not real and are caused by an underlying condition.

Impact: This can help the person manage their symptoms more effectively and seek appropriate treatment. However, it doesn't necessarily lessen the distress caused by the hallucinations.

Partial Insight:

Description: The individual has some awareness that their hallucinations might not be real but can still struggle with differentiating them from reality.

Impact: This can lead to confusion and anxiety, as the person oscillates between believing and doubting their experiences.

Lack of Insight:

Description: The individual firmly believes that their hallucinations are real and external.

Impact: This can lead to significant distress and functional impairment, as the person might respond to these hallucinations as if they were real.

Now imagine these three points on a scale from 0 (complete insight) to 10 (lack of insight) a person can be anywhere on this scale, and can slide back and fourth along it.

Factors such as stress, fatigue, medication changes, or daily fluctuations in mental state can cause insight to vary. A person might have high insight at one moment and low insight the next.

Basically Insight Is Not Static.

Also sometimes insight is just FREAKING RANDOM fluctuation for no discernible reason - honestly at times there is zero logic.

so ye, halluncinations… the brain is freaking wild.

Disclaimer - this is by no means an exhaustive list and like with many things every individual will experience these things slightly differently.

A similar post about delirium A similar post about fever

#hallucinations #whump community #whump thoughts #whump tropes #whump prompts #hallucination whump #drugged whump #mental illness whump #altered consciousness whump #whump resource #whump reference

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lilmisshellfireswritingblog · 11 days ago

Text

Play With Fire - Johnny Storm x fem!Reader

Authors Note: Well, since we have officially been introduced to MCU Johnny Storm, here's a little one shot I wrote a month ago because I am absolutely feral for Johnny Storm. We don't know much about how he's going to be portrayed so, I used my imagination. I hope you enjoy!

PS: Smut is not my forte so I hope it's...satisfactory.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, contains adult content, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18+, smut, lots of fire puns (I'm not sorry or maybe I am), lots of yapping

Pairings: Johnny Storm x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k+

The glimmering lights of the charity gala bathed the New York skyline in golden hues, casting long shadows on the sleek, chrome surfaces decorating the event. The décor was a striking blend of mid-century modern aesthetics—smooth, flowing lines, geometric shapes, and vibrant colors—reminiscent of a time when the future was just a few glamorous steps away and held a more optimistic approach.

You didn’t want to be here but there you were, trapped in a sea of tuxedos and satin gowns, your father’s arm draped possessively over your shoulder like a shield. It had been his idea to bring you along, of course, a desperate attempt to put up a "family-first" front after the affair rumor hit the front pages of The New York Post a week ago.

You hated galas. You hated the small talk, the polite smiles, and the thinly veiled gossip that filled the air. You hated the way your father’s overbearing presence had turned the night into a performance, with you as the unwilling starlet.

“I’ll only be a minute,” your father whispered to you, his fingers tightening around your arm in that way that said, don’t move. “Keep a smile on your face. This is important. Our family needs this.”

You barely suppressed a groan, nodding stiffly before he was off, mingling with the city's elite. His eyes, always sharp, locked onto the wealthy faces around him, like a predator hunting for its next meal.

You took a deep breath, turning away from the throng of people, hoping for a moment of solitude. The jazz band played in the background, their smooth melodies swirling in the air. You found yourself in the back corner, near a large glass window overlooking the city.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into the room, a confident swagger to his stride. Johnny Storm, better known to the world as the Human Torch, was hard to miss. His sharp blue eyes gleamed, his blonde hair tousled just enough to look casually effortless. He was, of course, dressed to the nines—a sleek black suit that hugged his athletic frame and a white shirt that gleamed in the ambient evening lights.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. His exploits were plastered across every major newspaper and the tabloids couldn’t get enough of his charisma and charm. He was a man of fire, literally and figuratively, the kind of person who seemed born for attention.

There was something different about him tonight. No flames. No flashy heroics. Just Johnny, looking slightly out of place amidst the formality of the gala.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he caught sight of you and flashed a grin, as if he’d spotted an old friend. “Well, well,” he said with a teasing smirk, his voice warm with amusement. “What’s a beautiful woman like you hiding in the corner all by herself? You look like you could use some company.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Not really,” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned against the glass. “I’d rather be anywhere but here, to be honest.”

Johnny’s grin faltered for a split second, then he chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. These things can be a pain. All the smiles and the handshakes and small talk.” He leaned against the wall next to you, hands in his pockets. “You’re not here for the free drinks, then?”

You shook your head. “My father dragged me here. He thinks it’ll fix... everything.” You waved vaguely toward the sea of tuxedos and gowns. “But you know how it is—people with money can’t stand to be seen as anything less than perfect.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his tone thoughtful, as he glanced around. “I get the pressure. I mean, being a public figure comes with a lot of... expectations.” He flashed a grin, a little wry. “You’d be surprised how many charity galas I’ve attended for reasons that had nothing to do with actual charity.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You? I would’ve guessed you'd be more of a ‘save the day, destroy the bad guys’ type.”

Johnny laughed, his expression softening as he pushed off the wall and stepped a little closer. “That’s mostly me, but tonight… tonight I’m just Johnny. No fire. No superpowers. Just a guy who’s probably as uncomfortable as you are.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You know, I was thinking about ditching this whole thing and heading to a dive bar. Could be more fun. You in?”

Your lips twitched upward. “I’m supposed to be here for my father. This whole thing’s a mess.”

Johnny shrugged. “Tell you what then. When your father’s done playing the ‘perfect family’ game, I’ll swing by and whisk you away for some real fun. In the meantime, if you ever need a distraction, just holler for me, doll. I’m pretty good at getting people out of awkward situations.”

You met his gaze, amused and a little skeptical, but something about his laid-back confidence and easy charm made the idea tempting. "I'll keep that in mind," you said, your voice softer now.

Johnny’s eyes flickered over to the crowd for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re probably sick of being the center of attention,” he said quietly. “I get it. Sometimes you just need a break from all the... stuff.”

You gave a short, quiet laugh. “If only it were that easy.”

Johnny’s grin returned, this time a little softer, more genuine. “Well, if you need a superhero to make your night a little less superficial, you know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he turned with a wink, slipping back into the crowd, disappearing into the sea of well-dressed faces.

You stayed where you were for a while longer, the sound of the gala and the distant jazz playing in the background. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, was one of the last people you’d ever expect to feel any kind of kinship with, but for a few moments, he’d made you feel a little less trapped in the fake world your father had built around you.

And in a night full of forced smiles and shallow conversation, that small bit of genuine connection felt like a flicker of light in a sea of cold steel and polished chrome.

The gala was starting to wind down. The last glasses of champagne had been sipped, the tables cleared, and the final whispers of forced pleasantries echoed through the room. Yet, despite the event nearing its end, the energy hadn’t quite shifted. The jazz band had given way to a recorded track—a gritty, energetic tune that you instantly recognized.

"Play With Fire" by The Rolling Stones.

The heavy, seductive beat reverberated through the room, slinking through the air with a raw, untamed edge. It was unexpected. Unusual for a place that so carefully curated its atmosphere with smiles and good intentions. But there it was—one of the most rebellious songs of the time, now lacing the air, intoxicating and dangerous.

Somehow, as if it were fate, amidst the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns, Johnny Storm appeared again, walking toward you like he had some kind of magnetic pull.

He flashed you a smile, his eyes gleaming under the cool, metallic lighting, his posture still effortless and relaxed despite the formality of the event. “Didn’t think they’d play this here,” he said, nodding toward the speakers, his voice amused. “I mean, talk about ruining the mood.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the deep growl of the guitar riff matching the beat of your heart. "Definitely not the kind of song you'd expect at a gala like this."

Johnny tilted his head slightly, the mischievous grin never leaving his face. “You know what? I’ve got an idea.” Without waiting for your response, he extended a hand toward you, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Dance with me.”

Your first instinct was to refuse. You weren’t in the mood for any more attention, and honestly, you didn’t dance. However, something about Johnny's easy confidence and charms, the casual way he dared you to step out of the perfectly controlled lines of this polished world, made you hesitate.

He wasn’t asking for anything extravagant, not some perfect ballroom spin or rehearsed routine. He was just... offering a moment.

For a heartbeat, you just stared at him. And then, as the chorus of “Play With Fire” blasted louder, you shrugged and took his hand. "Alright, Mr. Storm. Let’s see what you’ve got."

His grin spread even wider as he gently pulled you toward the center of the floor. The room seemed to narrow around you. Those who had been murmuring and sipping champagne suddenly halted as they took in the scene.

But you didn’t care. Not now.

Johnny’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his other still holding yours as the two of you moved together. The pulse of the song matched your quickening heartbeat, and, for once, you didn’t mind the eyes on you.

The music seemed to speak to both of you, something unrestrained and reckless—something wild that had been suppressed by all the proper rules of society. Johnny’s movements were smooth, fluid, and effortless. He had the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to make the world bend to his will, and yet, somehow, his presence didn’t feel as overwhelming as you would assume.

You stepped in time with him, your own body moving with a freedom you hadn’t expected. The lyrics about temptation and fire seemed to mirror the electrifying pull between you. There was something present that was dangerous but exhilarating. Forbidden but impossible to resist.

You looked up at him, half in surprise, half in something else you couldn’t quite name. His eyes flickered back to you, almost searching, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was more like he was giving you the space to decide just how far you'd go, how far you'd let this wild, reckless moment carry you.

“You know,” Johnny said as he guided you through a slow turn, his voice low, “they say if you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.”

You raised an eyebrow, the edges of your lips curling upward. "You know what they say about fire, right?" you teased, spinning under his arm. "It can warm you up just as easily as it can scorch you."

He gave you a roguish wink, pulling you close again as the song picked up speed. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The world around you seemed to fade away as the music built in intensity. The room, the gala, the whispers—everything was irrelevant in that moment. All that existed was the two of you moving in sync to the rhythm, bodies close, the heat of his touch igniting a spark in you that you hadn’t expected.

The song surged toward its climax, the pounding drums pushing the beat faster, wilder. Johnny’s hand slipped lower to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and the space between you vanished entirely. You could feel the heat of him. His body was a living furnace against yours, the friction of his energy igniting something within you, something that had always been held in check by the carefully constructed life you’d been forced to live.

You danced like you were both on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the line between control and surrender. Johnny’s laugh was infectious as he spun you one last time, a wild, unrestrained sound that made you realize how much you’d been holding back all night. He twirled you back into his arms, the song roaring in your ears as you laughed.

The moment lingered there, suspended in time. A brief but intense escape from the world you’d known.

When the final notes of "Play With Fire" echoed through the room, you stood there, breathless and laughing softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well,” Johnny said, grinning down at you like a devil. “I think we’re both burned.”

You caught your breath, a little dizzy from the rush but you didn’t mind. “Yeah. Maybe. But it was worth it.”

He gave you a knowing look, eyes full of something that was both playful and... something more. He was the Human Torch, but in that moment, he wasn’t just fire. He was a spark that could have burned everything or lit a whole new path.

And maybe, for the first time all night, you felt like you were standing on the edge of something that wasn’t entirely out of your control.

Johnny winked, lowering his head so his lips were resting at the crest of your ear, his voice just above a whisper. “Sometimes, the best part about playing with fire is the burn.”

You smiled, feeling the heat of it in every fiber of your being. You hadn’t expected to find anything real tonight, but then again, you hadn’t expected to dance with a superhero to this song either. It was dangerous. Reckless.

It felt like freedom. That was the best part of it all.

The last notes of "Play With Fire" still echoed in your ears, even though the beat had long since faded, replaced by the hum of a million voices, all of them too eager to return to the business of looking perfect.

You had somehow ended up on the edge of the dance floor, your breath still uneven, your pulse racing from more than just the rhythm of the music. Johnny stood beside you, his smile more subdued now, a knowing glint in his eyes as if he understood that something in you had shifted—something you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. The dance had been reckless, free, but the moment you’d stepped back, the world around you had tried to pull you back into place.

His presence, however, still felt like a spark. An electricity you didn’t want to let go of. Not yet.

“Well,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, the earlier mischievous tone replaced with something a little softer. “That was fun.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Fun? You could say that again.” Your laugh was a little more breathless than you intended, but you didn’t care. It felt good to be this... unfolded for once.

“You know,” he continued, stepping just a little closer, the heat of his body still too tempting, “the night doesn’t have to end here. There’s a spot… a little hidden place I go to when I need a break from all this.” He gestured toward the glittering ballroom, the clinking of glasses and forced chatter drifting in the background. “It’s up on the rooftop. Private. Quiet. I think you’d like it.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach. Of course, Johnny Storm had a “private spot” for everything. He was, after all, the Human Torch—effortless, smooth, always in control. However, there was something about the way he said it, about the quiet invitation in his voice that made it hard to ignore. Maybe you did want to escape the fake smiles and phony pleasantries.

You glanced toward the entrance of the ballroom, where your father was still busy shaking hands with some benefactor from the event, lost in his world of polished deals. You hadn’t been looking forward to more of that tonight.

A part of you, the part that had spent so long just trying to keep things together, felt that pull. You needed to break free, even if just for a moment. And another part of you? The part that had danced with Johnny, felt his heat like an actual flare against your skin? That part wanted to see where this could go.

“Fuck it,” you said, your voice quieter than you expected. “Lead the way..”

Johnny’s grin returned, the familiar flash of confidence lighting up his face. Without another word, he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd with a smoothness that barely made anyone notice. His fingers curled gently around yours, warm, sure, the touch casual yet intentional. It was like he knew exactly how to move in this world—his world—while making it feel like it was all about you in that moment.

You followed him through a door to the back of the venue, into a dimly lit corridor that led to a discreet elevator. Johnny pressed the button without a word, his eyes briefly meeting yours. There was something unspoken between you two, something that felt like it had been building without either of you realizing it.

The elevator ride was quick, almost too quick, and when the doors slid open, you stepped out onto the rooftop.

The air hit you first, the cool night breeze sweeping through the garden, carrying the scent of the city mixed with something sweet and floral. It was a sharp contrast to the glossy, manufactured world of the gala below. Here, on the private rooftop, everything felt different. The towering buildings of Manhattan stretched in all directions, but above, it was quieter. More intimate.

Johnny led you through the garden, where lush greenery contrasted against the stark steel and glass of the city around you. The lights here were soft, golden, hidden beneath the plants, casting just enough light to make the space feel almost like a dream. The far-off hum of the city was muted here, and the distant skyline stretched like a canvas of muted lights.

“This is… nice,” you murmured, taking it all in. The silence, the peace, the fact that for a moment, you weren’t anywhere but right here with Johnny. No cameras, no whispers, no obligations.

“I come up here when I need a break from the chaos,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, matching the serenity of the space. He stopped beside a stone bench, and you both stood for a moment, taking in the view together. “Sometimes it’s good to just… get away. I don’t know about you, but tonight felt like I needed to breathe.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of that. The gala had been suffocating in its own way. Full of too many expectations, too many eyes watching. Too much of your father’s mask.

Johnny leaned against the edge of a low wall, hands in his pockets, his body slightly turned toward you. His eyes, usually so full of energy and fire, seemed softer in the dim light of the rooftop garden. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come up here,” he admitted with a small smile. “Most people aren’t exactly keen on leaving the spotlight. But I like that you did.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the rush from the dance still lingered, making it hard to keep your calm exterior. “What can I say? I needed a change of scenery. I guess you could say you have a way of making people want to step out of their comfort zone. Besides, the spotlight isn’t my thing. Never was.”

He chuckled, and there was a genuine warmth to it. “I don’t know if it’s me, or just that sometimes you need someone who isn’t afraid to break the rules.”

You met his eyes again and for a moment, it felt like the world around you had gone still. The wind was the only thing moving, brushing through your hair and ruffling Johnny’s shirt just slightly. And yet, there was an electricity between you two, quiet but undeniable.

“You’re a rule breaker, huh?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

Johnny’s smile turned a little more wicked, that familiar mischief lighting up his face again. “Maybe,” he said, pushing off from the wall and stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe it’s just that… sometimes the rules are there to be bent.”

He was close now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the same heat that had burned so bright on the dance floor. His presence was magnetic, inescapable, and you had to fight the urge to step closer to him.

“Well, I think you’ve already set my night on fire,” you said, voice a little breathless.

Johnny didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he took another step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. His touch was electric, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

You could feel the tension building between you—every heartbeat, every breath. The city below, the skyline, and the quiet garden was all just background noise now.

“Maybe we should just let the night burn then,” Johnny said softly, his voice deep and seductive, like he was speaking just for you.

You didn’t know what you were stepping into, but right then, under the stars with Johnny Storm, you didn’t need to. You let go of the last of your reservations.

And for the first time tonight, you let the fire take you.

Johnny was close, closer than you’d expected. His presence, that electric heat that never quite seemed to dissipate, was undeniable. His eyes were on you, dark and steady, but there was something different in them now. There was now something softer, more deliberate than the playful energy that had defined their banter earlier in the night.

You stood beside him, heart racing, mind whirling. The dance had been the first spark, the moment when something unexpected flickered between you. But now? The air felt thick with unspoken words, each one hanging in the space between you like a slow-burning fuse.

“You know,” Johnny said, his voice low and surprisingly serious, “I don’t come up here often with anyone. It’s usually just me and the stars, you know? The chaos gets too loud sometimes. But tonight… Tonight it feels different.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t talking about the view or the quiet of the rooftop anymore. He was talking about you. Something about his tone, about the way his words wrapped around you, sent a shiver down your spine. The fire in him had shifted. The flippant hero, always surrounded by chaos and light, was now speaking softly, his words like an invitation, a promise.

“I get that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is nice. Peaceful. I could see why you wouldn’t want to share it.”

Johnny took a half-step closer, the space between you narrowing until his breath was warm on your face. His blue eyes—those beautiful stormy, electric eyes—searched yours like he was looking for permission, or maybe waiting for you to make the first move. The gravity between you was palpable, magnetic. Everything else faded into the background. All that mattered was the two of you standing there, in the heart of the rooftop garden, this space between chaos and quiet.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his lips curving into a slow, unsteady smile. “I’ve been thinking... maybe I’m the kind of guy who can burn things down and fly, but I also know when it’s time to stop and just... feel. Not many people know that about me.”

His words wrapped around you like a firestorm, the heat of them sinking deep into your chest. It was too much and yet it was everything you’d been craving all night. No pretense. No walls. Just the raw pull of the moment, the intensity that was flaring between you two like a flame in the dark.

With no more hesitation, Johnny’s hand lifted, slow but sure, as though he was asking for permission even now. His fingers brushed against your cheek, warm and light, his touch like a spark against your skin. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, the touch so intimate that it made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to worry,” he murmured, his voice low, just for you. “I won’t burn you.”

You swallowed, your own breath a little shaky. Something wild had taken hold of you, some primal urge that told you not to hold back. You stepped into him, closing the last of the distance between you.

“I’m not afraid of getting burned,” you said, your voice a little hoarse.

Johnny’s eyes flickered with something hot, something unrestrained. And then, without another word, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that matched the fire he carried inside. The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more urgent, intense, full of heat, yet strangely soft. His lips were warm, the taste of him a mixture of whiskey and something electric, something undeniably him.

His hands slid to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the warmth of him. His body. His energy. It surged through you like a live wire. You kissed him back, your own hands rising to tangle in his hair, feeling the wild heat of his touch consume you, like he was setting a fire inside you that you didn’t know how to extinguish.

For a moment, there was nothing but the heat of the kiss, the steady rhythm of your heartbeats echoing through your chest. The world had fallen away. There were no rumors, no expectations, no father or gala or fake smiles. There was only the two of you, locked in this perfect, intoxicating moment, a kiss that felt like it could burn down the whole city and leave nothing but the ashes.

When you pulled back, just for a breath, Johnny’s eyes were darker than before, smoldering with something that went deeper than the fire he controlled. His chest rose and fell with each breath, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his forehead leaned against yours, and he whispered your name, like it was a secret he’d been dying to share.

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your chest pressed against his. There was a quiet calm in you now, something that had been absent the entire night. Something that told you, even with all the fire and heat, maybe this was just the beginning.

“Maybe you’re more than just fire, Johnny Storm,” you whispered back. “Maybe you’re something a little softer. Less dangerous than you put on. Fire can be beautiful too. It’s not always destructive.”

Johnny’s laugh was low, his lips brushing against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Maybe,” he said, voice teasing but tender, “but I still have a few flames left to share.”

As the night stretched on, with the soft breeze swirling around you and the city still pulsing below, you knew one thing for certain: there was no going back. Not after this. Not after the fire had burned so bright between you.

You weren’t sure you even wanted to go back.

The city lights below flickered like a sea of stars, but up there on the rooftop, the night felt different. The soft hum of the wind moving through the plants, all of it was a contrast to the tension crackling between you and Johnny. The kiss you’d shared earlier hadn’t been enough—it was only the beginning of something more. Something you couldn’t quite control.

You needed more.

Johnny stood close to you. Too close. But you didn’t want him to step back. His scent lingered in the air around you, a mix of the fresh outdoors and something smoky, something undeniably him. His eyes, dark and electric, never left yours, and every beat of your heart seemed to echo between you. His lips were slightly parted, his breath shallow, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” Johnny says breathlessly. “You’re playing with fire.”

You felt a thrill run through you at the words. Everything about him. From his cocky grin, the edge of danger in his voice, the way his body practically hummed with heat… He was irresistible. You tilted your head slightly, daring him with a soft smile.

“I think you’re the one who started the fire, Johnny,” you said, your voice low, teasing. It wasn’t a challenge, not exactly, but it felt like one all the same. Something between the two of you had shifted and now there was no going back.

Johnny took a step closer, his heat radiating off him like a furnace. You could feel the air between you thickening, crackling with an energy you hadn’t known you craved until now. His hand reached for you, slow and deliberate, but he didn’t touch you just yet. Instead, his fingers hovered near your waist, the slightest of touches, making you ache for more.

“You sure you can handle it?” Johnny murmured, his voice almost playful, but there was an underlying intensity in his words.

You swallowed, your pulse racing. “You’re the one who’s burning up,” you whispered, taking a small step forward, closing the last bit of distance between you.

Your pulse quickens at Johnny's bold words, your breath catching in her throat. You look up at him through hooded lashes, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you ask, you voice barely above a whisper. With a sudden burst of courage, you wrap your arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him flush against your body. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the cool night air.

“Because either way, I'm willing to take the risk,” you confess, your lips hovering tantalizingly close to his. You close the final distance, pressing your mouth to Johnny's in a searing kiss. Your tongue darts out, teasing the seam of his lips before delving inside to tangle with his.

Johnny groans into the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist to pull her tighter against him. He returns your passion with equal fervor, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual duel. The taste of you is intoxicating, and he drinks it greedily, lost in the heady rush of desire. Breaking the kiss, Johnny trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses your back against the cold stone wall. The hard planes of his body molded perfectly against your body. Johnny grinds his hips into yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

“Tell me you want this,” Johnny said breathlessly, his intense gaze on you.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pins you against the wall. The rough texture of the stone contrasts sharply with the heat of Johnny's body, making you acutely aware of every point of contact.

“Yes, God yes,” you moan, your hips bucking against his in a desperate bid for friction. “I want this. Burn me alive, Mr. Storm.”

Your words are punctuated by a series of urgent kisses, your mouth seeking out Johnny's with a hunger that borders on desperation. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his suit. You want to tear the fabric away, to expose the man beneath and claim him as your own.

“That's the spirit,” Johnny praises, his voice thick with lust. He captures your lips again, devouring you with a primal intensity that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His hands roam freely over your curves, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh. Johnny slips a hand beneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties before pushing them aside to delve into your slick heat. Johnny groans, his thumb finding your clit and starts rubbing it in slow, tortuous circles. “You're so wet for me already. I can't wait to taste you.”

With a swift motion, Johnny rips open your dress, the fabric ripping with ease. He palms your bare breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they pebble under his touch.

“You're perfect,” he rasps, leaning in to capture a pert bud between his teeth.

You cry out, you back arching as Johnny teases your sensitive nipples. The sensation of his hot mouth on your skin sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, making you throb around his invading fingers. “Oh fuck, Johnny!” you gasp, your hips grinding wildly against his hand. “Don't stop, please…”

Lost in the haze of desire, you fumble with the fastenings of Johnny's trousers, desperate to free his straining erection. You need to feel him. All of him. As if reading your mind, Johnny relieves you of the task, swiftly shedding his pants and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and pulsing with need. You wrap your hand around it, stroking the velvety length with reverence.

A hoarse cry tears from your throat as Johnny thrusts inside you completely, stretching your inner walls to their limit. The sudden intrusion triggers a wave of intense pleasure that courses through your veins, leaving you trembling and breathless.

“Johnny... oh god, yes!” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to his size. You start to roll your hips, experimenting with the delicious friction as Johnny remains still inside you. The sensation of his hot, hard length nestled deep within your core is almost overwhelming, stoking the flames of your desire to new heights. Impatient to move, you clench your inner muscles around Johnny's cock, urging him to start thrusting. “Please, Johnny,” you beg, your voice husky with need.

Johnny's restraint snaps at your pleading and he begins to move, setting a relentless pace that has you crying out in ecstasy. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the night air.

“You're so damn tight,” Johnny growls, his eyes locked on your face as he watches you come undone beneath him. “I can feel every inch of you milking my cock. It’s driving me crazy.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you with increasing ferocity. The rooftop garden blurs around them, replaced by a world consisting solely of heat, hunger, and the primal urge to claim and be claimed. Johnny breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck, biting and sucking at the delicate skin.

“Come for me, baby,” Johnny mutters into your neck, panting as he kept up with his relenting pace. “Come for me.”

The combination of his rough treatment and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts pushes you closer to the edge. Your inner walls begin to flutter and clench, signaling your impending climax. You wrap your legs tightly around Johnny's waist, locking your ankles behind his back to draw him impossibly deeper.

“Johnny, I'm gonna—!” you scream as the first waves of an orgasm crash over you, your pussy spasming wildly around his pistoning cock. The intense pleasure is almost too much to bear, sending you hurtling into a maelstrom of bliss. Through the haze of your release, you feel Johnny's movements become erratic, his thrusts growing shorter and more urgent.

Johnny's grip on you tightens as he feels your pussy convulsing around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. The sensation of your clenching walls and the sound of your ragged breathing spur him on, driving him to new heights of pleasure.

“That's it, baby, squeeze my cock,” Johnny grunts, his hips snapping forward in short, brutal strokes. “You're mine, all mine.”

With a final, guttural roar, Johnny buries himself to the hilt and erupts, painting your insides with his hot seed. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, his vision blurring as he loses himself in the sheer ecstasy of the moment. As the aftershocks subside, Johnny collapses against you, his weight pinning you against the wall.

Breathless and sated, you cradle Johnny's face in your hands, gazing up at him with adoring eyes.

“That was... incredible,” you whisper, your voice trembling with residual pleasure. You run your fingers through his hair, marveling at the way his heated skin seems to glow in the moonlight. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the lingering effects of their passion, leaves you feeling vulnerable yet deeply connected to Johnny. “I've never felt anything like that before,” you confess, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and wonder.

Johnny's chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. He's still buried inside you, their bodies intimately entwined. The sensation of your warmth wrapped around him is almost too much to bear.

“You're something else,” Johnny murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were trouble, but fuck, I wouldn't trade this for anything.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, and sees the same awe and vulnerability reflected back at him. It's a moment of raw honesty, stripped of pretenses and societal expectations. Johnny brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle compared to the fierce passion they just shared.

Your heart swells at Johnny's words, your soul feeling as if it's been set ablaze by the intensity of their connection. You reach up to frame his face, your thumbs stroking his cheekbones as you search his gaze.

“It was a good reprieve from all the formalities,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers trace the contours of his jawline, marveling at both the strength and unexplored tenderness etched into his features.

Johnny nods, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, definitely a nice distraction from all the pomp and circumstance,” he leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender, exploratory kiss. It's a stark contrast to the passionate frenzy that preceded it, but no less potent in its own way. When Johnny finally breaks apart, he rests his forehead against yours once more, his breath mingling with yours. “I should probably get you back downstairs before anyone misses you.”

Despite the practicality of the situation, neither you nor Johnny make a move to disengage. The moment stretches on, heavy with unspoken promises and the knowledge that their lives will soon return to their usual trajectories.

You sigh softly, the sound caught between your lips as you reluctantly pull away from Johnny's embrace. The sudden chill of the night air against your overheated skin is a jarring reminder of the world beyond this hidden alcove.

“Yes, we should…” Your voice trails off as you gaze up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow across his face. There's a bittersweet quality to the moment, a sense of longing for something that may never come to be. “But what if I don’t want to?”

Johnny's eyes flash with a hint of mischief at your words, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Then we stay up here all night and let the world keep spinning without us.”

#fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #Johnny storm #Johnny storm x reader #human torch #human torch x reader #fantastic 4 #fantastic 4 fan fiction #Joseph quinn #the human torch #x reader #reader insert #fantastic four

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cutehoons02 · 3 months ago

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I NEED TO MEET MY HUMAN PILLOW??

*pairing: bad boy producer Chan x good girl

*tags: problems of insomnia, mocking, teasing, not understanding each other, little jealousy, fluff at the end

* synopsis: Chan has been unable to sleep for more than 4 hours for almost a month and maybe he will just have to find his soul mate to overcome his insomnia…

If you like i would write a second part

* word count: 4k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

—REBLOG if you enjoyed

(English is not my native language)

Chan loved to produce music, he could be one of the most famous idols and love performing and dancing in front of thousands of people or singing vintage songs to his fans but one thing that stimulated him more and more was spending hours producing, correct verses of poems he had written while he was on the other side of the world or, start to try to feel the rhythm of melodies that were beginning to take shape in his head but also in his console and computer; that was the thing he loved most about being a singer not the events where everyone was impeccably dressed and looked like puppets. He also loved to produce because he could only do so after the exhausting dance workouts or the various recorded content they did during the week for fans, all the other members of the group went back to their dorm rooms to rest or walked around the Korean capital like normal people; instead, he was for weeks, let’s not fool ourselves, he always suffered from insomnia and did not even remember how good it was to wake up after a nice eight-hour sleep. That night was another night out in his studio composing or writing down some verses for the next album, the only company he had was that of his little dog who was snoring and making beautiful dreams, he was a little bit jealous because he too would have wanted to sleep so happily and at 4 in the morning he lay down on the sofa that he had bought for other members and began to scroll through various social notifications until his eyes were closed for a few hours.

Y/n had been working for the Stray Kids for almost a year in the social media department, loved how every week she could knock down his ideas and have even for twenty minutes of fun members recording funny challenges in the pool while they tried to record, while they were traveling to some European city for some event such as the fashion week; with her caramel macchiato and sweet pretzel she walked into the floor where most of the employees had a small recreation room with a small kitchen and tables, but a light coming from the studio where they were recording songs made her turn back. Y/n was a curious person and sometimes he did not want to have all this curiosity. Still, without thinking about it he knocked slowly at the door and after a minute without an answer, he came in. She saw the leader of Stray Kids lying on his belly with slightly ruffled hair and wearing a baseball hat sleeping peacefully with his dog next to him who had already seen the foreign presence of Y/n and ran down to lick them a shoe. Chan was really the representation of the dream boy of Y/n but after a year they had very few interactions together and those few they had were embarrassing, only Felix knew of the small crush she had on Y/n for Chan, but Chan behaved as if it did not exist or perhaps he had never liked because he always wore something pink, always had in his hand one of those coffees all processed even worse that drink green color called matcha, or sometimes brought them homemade cookies to cheer and give a little sweetness to the guys after hours of training and this thing always made him raise his eyes because not even a year later all hung from the lips of Y/ n and did not understand why. It was almost 8:30 and all the other members were coming to work Y/n thought it wasn’t so nice to find all the other members making fun of Chan because he was sleeping in a super sweet position. Still, his face was squashed in the pillow and those beatings of his "children" would have played a few tricks on him, so Y/n slowly spiked with his little hand hidden in the sweatshirt in Chan’s side but did not move an inch, had never touched him by a centimeter and was seriously nervous in the pottery touch so for a moment she set aside her shyness for the leader and slightly pulled him off, heard a small sound coming from his mouth and the arm that he had dangling in the armrest of the sofa put it into the Y/n sweatshirt and his heart began to pump slightly more than necessary. He hated the effect it had on her and hated how everyone got along instead she was to his eyes like a ghost, Y/n put his slightly cold hand in Chan’s face and looked at him for a second before talking to him "Christopher Bang Chan get up there are paparazzi at the door taking pictures of you!" raised his voice slightly to wake him, Everyone knew of Chan’s fear of the paparazzi but he seemed to be seriously in his dream world so he took his pretzel and put it under his nose as if it were an animal and pulled his hair out of his hat and gave him a slight slap in the face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and after a few seconds he saw two hazel eyes looking at her evil and immediately moved away from his grip and dropped his sweet pretzel in Chan’s chest.

Of all the people who could find him in that state, the girl who smelled of cotton candy and spring flowers had to wake him up! “Do you know that it is strictly forbidden to enter my studio, especially for a person who has nothing to do with music?" He got up slightly from the couch and began to sit as if it were a feline and saw for a second the eye of Y/n linger in the black underwear of the Supreme, knew the effect he had on girls but a sweet smile formed on his lips because even the sweet and shy Y/n had a soft spot for him, but he immediately turned away and went to his Cafe, It was obviously not a normal coffee but had cream on top and little bits of sugar, Chan tore his eyes, how could you drink something like that to wake up if they had invented the existence of a nice steaming cup of coffee without sugar to wake up.

"Uhm sorry, i didn’t want to invade your privacy but i saw a flake light coming from your studio and i had thought that someone had forgotten it on or i was afraid that you were.." You didn’t even finish the sentence because with a snap he gave you the sign to be quiet and nonchalance got up and started drinking from your straw your caramel macchiato and ate even a piece of your pretzel. “Or maybe you were just curious and wanted to pry and invade my privacy" Rolled your eyes and looked at Chan "I didn’t want to invade your privacy i would never, i was saying that, i was afraid something happened to you or maybe you left the light on for that i entered, i even knocked for almost a minute but no one answered me" you had never had such a long conversation with the leader of the group and in your head, you did not want to seem cynical towards him but he had seriously misread you. "They never told you that it’s bad manners to roll your eyes in front of a person, god how do you drink this thing at 8 o'clock in the morning to wake up is definitely disgusting. Well now you see I’m fine so you could leave i don’t need a little girl to take care of me!" was literally finishing that concoction of sugars and saw Y/n to caress his dog. “I know it’s rude to roll your eyes in front of someone but it’s not my fault if when you wake up you’re slightly bad mood, there are personal rooms with a bed because people need to feel comfortable and sleep, It is not healthy for your body and mind to sleep at work and especially in a sofa that is also small for your physique, if you have problems with sleep there are a lot of purely natural remedies. God, how does this little dog worship you if you’re like that?" Chan looked at you very badly and he laughed slightly "In addition to not tolerating your presence, are you psychoanalyzing me? What do you know about my insomnia problems Y/n, It’s not your business and i repeat, I have no need to listen to the advice of a young girl at her first steps into the world of adults so go away and thank you for this breakfast 5 stars Michelin i will never try again in my life to drink something with so many sugars" You felt the door open and Felix with his angelic hair entered the room laughing "Don’t tell me you spent the night here again inside Chan, you have to seriously find some remedy for your insomnia because you behave like a jerk with everyone, Even with Y/n that is the sweetest girl on this planet" The two guys looked at you, one was smiling instead of the other would have never met you. “Let me be Felix didn’t start the day well and I have to do not know how many things with you, and the less time i’m away from sweet things the better!" A small puff came out of your mouth and you greeted Felix before heading into the recreation room where everyone seemed happy and relaxed.

Chan without even realizing it was chewing and sipping little sips of your caramel macchiato and Changbin was literally open-mouthed, his leader had not had a drink with so much sugar in his life and drank those drinks only Y/n. "Why are you drinking a caramel macchiato with double cream and double caramel? Don’t tell me you’ve overcome your insomnia thanks to some sugars?" Chan looked at Changbin first and then in his hand, the glass of Y/n's half-finished drink had drunk it all himself without anyone’s help. " You know i don’t like to waste food so for once even if this thing is literally disgusting i’ve bought it" The group members nodded but were extremely worried about their leader because it was almost a month that he had not slept peacefully for more than 4 hours and had tried everything, from herbal teas, some members have even tried to sleep with him but with little result, natural herbal infusions, medicines, they had even taken him to make especially relaxing massages to see him fall asleep and relax but none of these things made them see their leader relaxed and sleep for even 6 hours."You know i saw a series where a guy could get sleep when he was with his lover maybe it’s happening to you too, maybe your soul mate is close to you and fate is trying to give you some signals to try sleeping with her and relax. I read on the internet that many couples can only fall asleep when they are together maybe you are also doing something like this!" Chan had seriously the balls to listen to his members at that time. "Sure Han, you see somewhere my soul mate with whom i can share my beauty sleep. I thought i had raised normal human beings, not dreamers who believe in fairy tales of fate". A light knock removed the problems of Chan’s insomnia and Y/n came in with a bag of gingerbread-shaped cookies all colored, Chan at that moment would have wanted to have a thousand paparazzi in front of him instead of the young content creator of the Stray Kids with her perfume of cotton candy and flowers, "We have to go record some content in the terrace but before i brought you some cookies, i know that many of you love them so..." Chan did not finish the sentence in Y/n that he took his bag and threw all his cookies into the basket where there were all the empty boxes of fried chicken with the liquid of various drinks. All members looked down at Y/n and then at Chan "What the fuck is going on with you Chan, Y/n had made those cookies, especially for me because you are so bad with her?" Chan looked at Han furiously and with a veil of sadness Y/n leaving the room and maybe it was true he had to find some remedy for his lack of sleep because he had never felt so tired, a bad mood and bad with a person.

It had been a few days since that episode and Chan had not slept much and his appearance was getting worse even with the makeup to perfection he seemed extremely tired and hurt from all the events that had happened, he tried to talk to you but you were immediately away from his gaze and deserved it, some members with him were distant and angry, but the others had tried again to make them drink insomnia-cures and take care of their leader as he had done with them countless times. It was nine o'clock in the evening and he had just finished recording a piece for the new album with Felix "Chris, i think it’s better if we stop working today and go for a night walk. We can also get some drinks or snacks during the walk" Chris nodded, he loved spending time with his Australian friend so they found themselves walking near Han River in an area that they had never been to. Chan saw Felix get up and give him a bag full of snacks both sweet and savory. “Well now i think it’s time to come home at 11 o'clock in the evening but you want to go into your study or our dorm you will have to go apologize with Y/n, see that house with red bricks? She lives with her friends from the university and surely they will be awake because there is light on. Do the right thing because no one will open your dorm room or even your study, good night Chris!".

Chan was speechless until he saw the Uber with Felix inside and started walking to the apartment you shared with your friends, had serious fear and embarrassment to play but heard from the small lobby the laughter of your friends and took courage. "Second floor, the black door I left you a tip in the door good work" a voice unknown to him made open the door of the hall, started to climb up to the second floor quickly and in front of if there was a tiny girl with red hair with the slightly opened mouth "Do i look or do you look frightfully like the boy who is attached to the posters in Sunaa’s room, where is my dinner? Oh my, you’re not the pizza boy but that guy who sang that Nirvana song that Y/n had to spend a whole night editing for videos of your concert". Chan thought he was living in a simulation who was this Sunaa who had her posts in the room and who was this chick who spoke like a machine? "Uhm nice to meet you, i'm Bang Chan i know that maybe it is really me in the posters in your friend’s room, there by chance, Y/n in the house, i should talk to him" Sunaa’s friend let him in the house and a smell of chocolate cake came from the kitchen and a girl slightly busy checking the oven watched him enter their kitchen "Y/n is taking a shower but in 5 minutes she will be here, make yourself at home, you want some cookies, freshly baked cake, hot tea with cookies..." the other girl was trying to get her cake out of the oven and gave Lily the red-haired girl a little look. " Sorry i don’t often come to this house except for my boyfriend so when i meet strangers if i’m slightly embarrassed i talk about it, i am Lily a friend of Y/n, the pastry lady next to me is Sarah, Sunaa the girl with your posters right now will be over the ocean somewhere because she’s a hostess and you know her Y/n works for your group" Chan felt slowly less embarrassed and looked carefully at the kitchen that divided the living room with a large white sofa and two pink puffs. " I would be fine with a glass of water and a cookie, it’s okay if I’m the one who should be embarrassed at this moment to show up at 11 in a house made up only of girls". “Don’t worry Lily’s boyfriend comes to visit her at 2 am to sleep with her even for only five hours we are used to, oh Y/n look who came to visit you is Felix right? It’s not that Bang Chan you say so much that he is an asshole to you but that he finds him extremely" would run with the hair half wet by your friend Sarah to put a hand on his mouth and watch Chan amused while eating a cookie, you had heard an extremely and uncharacteristically familiar voice coming from the living room but you thought it was your brain to make it here, instead there really in front of you was that individual Bang Chan sitting in your living room with a grin.

"What are you doing in my house? Do you want to make fun of me, to throw your anger on me and invade my living space and also in my house?" Your friends looked at you slightly surprised, but you were always the one who tried to make peace when there was a difference between them. " I just wanted to talk to you Y/n and i would like to do it in private" Chan looked at your friends and bowed and saw you walking down a corridor and entered a beautiful clean room with obviously a slightly pink bed, some vinyl of artists like The Weeknd-Childish Gambino-Ariana Grande-Beatles etc, There were lots of pictures of you and your friends and family attached, but one thing made him smile and warm his heart you had some Stray Kids albums and lots of photos you took with members during your travels. Until that moment he knew you had become friends with the other members but he did not realize that this year with some you had really formed a good relationship of trust and mutual friendship, especially with the youngest ones who were almost your age.

"I’ve been a serious asshole to you for the past year and i don’t even know why, at first i did not even notice your presence but slowly i saw that you were always with some of the group and bothered me because you were always so happy and positive with everyone but this is not a reason why i had to act like an asshole with you. I even brought you your favorite snacks i guess, i don’t want to start with lies about our relationship, i didn’t know that you lived here Felix brought me and he gave me this bag." You knew that Chan was a smart guy and good with everyone and annuities, honestly, you did not expect to see him at your home and much less in your room, you could not stand it because even if your room was slightly large it took too much space and you felt suffocated. "Understood, it was not necessary to come here to me at almost midnight you could tell me even at work and then there is no relationship to start, we have never been friends or who knows else so" A slight yawn formed in your mouth and you watched Chan look at you like a puppy and then sat down in your bed "Well i could first apologize to you and then slowly become your "friend" as you are with Felix or Han" You were seriously tired of everything and every one and you didn’t want to become friends with Han also because your heart was beating faster in his presence and this thing did not happen when you were with Han or with Felix. "I accept your apologies Chan but at this time i would only sleep and it is now midnight and i know that the Y/n is awake and head on his shoulders is going to fall asleep standing, what do you say we talk about this face when i’m ready and with a good caramel macchiato hand that gives me the right dose of sugars to wake up?". Chan was a bit amazed by the honesty that you had to get him away from you but you said you wanted to talk to him awake so maybe he didn’t completely lose hope with you. " Sure, it was better as you said yourself if i spoke to you at work not at midnight when you can see that you are really tired and that you are looking forward to sleeping maybe i should go. Don’t need me to walk you to the door go to bed tomorrow at 8 we must be ready to go out of Seoul to record" You saw him coming out of the door and heard a light whisper "Blessed are you that you will sleep this night".

you walked in his direction and you took an arm and made it turn "If you want to sleep with me, in the sense of trying to sleep not to do strange things, oh god you got me right? I know you can’t sleep anywhere but my bed is the most comfortable and i also use a special fragrance that I itch every time I change the sheets to relax and make me sleep better if you don’t snore and if you don’t get too excited there’s room for you too because it’s enough big" Chan looked at you carefully, your cheeks were slightly reddened and you hid your hands in the big sweatshirt that you wore as pajamas and a smile formed in his mouth "You have a strange way of asking things Y/n, Meanwhile I tried them all so if you’re not embarrassed to have a guy in bed with you willingly also because I don’t even know what part of Seoul we are and I have no desire to go back to the dormitory." " No embarrassment I asked you and then you’re not the first guy who sleeps with me, as long as you don’t snore or that you don’t move much" Chan felt a pinch of protection or maybe jealousy towards you and nodded sitting in your bed, He took off his sweatshirt and a slightly over t-shirt where he showed extremely big biceps and thank god he had on pants because he would not be able to sleep in jeans. You looked at him carefully but turned away immediately because you did not want to be a maniac because of his biceps or his big hands, Chan knew the effect it made you carefully, and a smile formed on his lips, and lay down in your bed. " Well thank you Y/n, tomorrow morning i will offer you a caramel macchiato or i will go to get it at dawn while it is already much if i can sleep for three hours" Y/n raised her duvet and became small as she entered her bed and made herself comfortable near the end of the bed on her side.

"Don’t be so negative, try i can imagine things that make you happy i know the sea in Australia or beaches before trying to sleep you, i do this when i’m nervous and then i can sleep" Chan saw you so far away from him that he started to laugh "Y/n, you can sit back and relax. In what sense do you imagine beautiful things? don’t tell me that before falling asleep you fantasize about me!" You looked terrible Chan and threw your pillow in his face "Are you crazy? Why should i ever dream about you when i have to put up with you already at work and even when i enter Sunaa’s room i must see your face! The less i have you in my thoughts the better" Chan was seriously laughing at the situation that you had just created and for a while, he did not feel so happy and worry-free before going to bed. " You said that you imagine beautiful things so you will surely fantasize about me, i'm the most beautiful of the group, Y/n. Now however you sleep that tomorrow morning you have to be presentable at work otherwise you will take words" You looked up and lay down, giving Chan your back and without being seen you smiled and i put a hand on your head for the slight embarrassment that was growing in you.

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kaira-diaries · 21 days ago

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Backstabber: part two

warning: || mentions of trauma/violence || fluff ||mentions of smut || yearning angst || mentions of anxiety/panic attack ||

pairing: fem!reader x In-ho

wc: 9.7k

a/n: ok ok i know the gif is Mr. Sunshine but rn for the story we're just going to pretend it's not. Was severely hungover while writing this but alas! we got it done. This has been a long time coming & happy reading! (also, is college kicking anyone else's ass already?)

summary: after the events of the games y/n finds herself trying to get back to normalcy and move past the pain of it all, but finds herself back at square one because of a certain someone (wink wink)

-> read part one here <-

-> masterlist <-

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The city glowed in a kaleidoscope of colors, each hue of the rainbow shimmering like liquid fire against the slick pavement. Neon signs pulsed with life, their reflections stretching and warping in the puddles that pooled on the streets. The rainfall tapped rhythmically against the windshield as the rivulets of water distorted the view outside. Through the blurred glass, the vibrant lights fractured into streaks, painting the dark skyline in smudged prisms of gold, crimson, and indigo.

Your heart swelled with a deep, comforting joy as you drove through the city.

The evening had been perfect—your father was more vibrant and full of life than you’d ever seen, his laughter echoing in your mind like a melody. Your mother’s eyes sparkled with a youthful radiance, her smile brighter than it had been in years, carrying you back to the carefree days of your childhood. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

When you returned home from the games a year ago, you and Mina made a quiet, resolute decision to sever ties with the relentless chaos of city life. Together, you retreated to the countryside, finding solace in a small, sunlit apartment nestled among rolling hills and whispering trees. The reason was undeniable: the city was haunted. Every corner, every shadow seemed to echo with memories of him—his laughter, his absence, the pain he left behind. It was suffocating, an endless maze of reminders too overwhelming to bear.

So, you both sought a fresh start in a place neither of you had ever called home. The countryside offered a fragile peace, with its golden fields swaying in the breeze and its nights bathed in quiet starlight. Yet, no matter how far you ran, the games had marked you. Their weight lingered in the quiet moments, carving scars so deep you often wondered if they’d ever fade. They had changed you in ways you couldn’t fully articulate, reshaping your very soul, leaving you to navigate a new life that felt as unfamiliar as the land beneath your feet.

Yes, the city haunted you more than you cared to admit, its streets brimming with ghosts of a life you couldn’t outrun. Yet, no matter how heavy the weight of its memories, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—keep away from your parents. They had been your anchor, their concern cutting through your walls with relentless questions about In-ho. What had happened to him? Where had he gone? Were you okay? You could only muster a half-truth, your voice steady but hollow: “He’s okay. We just broke it off. It’s what’s best—so he could focus on his business.” It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The way their eyes lingered on you, filled with implicit understanding, told you they knew better. Yet, the quiet pain etched into your face kept them from prying further.

Now, behind the wheel, your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you approached a red light, the tension in your shoulders mounting as you flinched. A black sedan pulled up too close to your rear bumper, its sleek frame barely visible in your rain-speckled mirror. Your stomach tightened, a chill crawling up your spine, familiar yet unwelcome. You sighed, a long, unsteady exhale, the weight of recognition settling over you. You knew this feeling. You knew him.

As the light flickered green, you pressed on, refusing to look back, your foot steady on the gas. The city’s glow blurred in the corners of your vision, but you didn’t spare an ounce of energy on the creeping dread that clung to you like a shadow. Not tonight. Not now. You moved forward, letting the rhythm of the rain and the hum of the engine carry you through the labyrinth of streets, your focus on the road ahead and nothing else.

You were nearing the edge of the city when your eyes caught sight of the gallery, its elegant facade proudly displaying your name in bold, polished letters. It should have felt like triumph, like validation, but all it brought was a fragile kind of grounding, tethering you to the moment before your thoughts spiraled. It was Mina who had believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself, who pushed you to pick up the brush again, to pour your fractured soul into something tangible. Without her, you doubted you would’ve had the strength to confront the canvas.

Growing up, you’d been told over and over that art was a pipe dream, a risky gamble that only fools and dreamers dared chase. But after coming so close to death, what was left to fear? You found the courage—or perhaps the desperation—to create again. Yet, no amount of bravery could erase the color red from your world.

Red.

The very thought of it was a visceral wound, one that tore through you without warning. It wasn’t just a color—it was a specter of guilt, a reminder of lives lost in the cruelest ways. You had seen it splattered across your skin, warm and unrelenting, as innocent eyes stared back at you, lifeless and unblinking. Red was not paint; it was blood. It was screams. It was nightmares.

Now, it was banished. Banished from your paintings, your wardrobe, your home—your entire existence. The sight of it made your stomach twist and your chest ache, the weight of memory crashing over you like a tidal wave. The gallery was proof of your survival, but the absence of red was proof of your scars, the kind that no brushstroke could ever cover.

The breeze wove through your long hair like a gentle whisper as you cracked a window. It was cool and invigorating as you left the city’s glow behind. The hum of your car faded into the rhythm of nature, and the road ahead curved through rolling hills cloaked in darkness. The earth seemed to rise and fall around you, cradling you in its quiet embrace as you drew closer to home.

Above, the night sky stretched endlessly, a masterpiece painted in shades of inky black and deep indigo. The moon hung low and luminous, its surface dappled with grey and white, casting a soft silver light over the landscape. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily across its face, their edges glowing faintly as if kissed by moonlight. Far in the distance, the horizon blurred into a dreamy collage of shadowy mountains and faintly silhouetted buildings, their shapes barely discernible against the star-strewn canvas above.

The scene was mesmerizing, a quiet symphony of beauty that filled the silence in your car and kept your thoughts company. For twenty blissful minutes, you soaked in the view, letting it anchor you in the present and wash away the weight of the day. When you finally turned into your driveway, the familiar sight of your home greeted you, nestled in the hills like a haven waiting to welcome you back.

Stepping through the front door, you let out a tired sigh, kicking off your shoes with a dull thud against the wall. The click of the lock behind you echoed in the quiet house as you shrugged off your pink jacket, the fabric still damp from the night rain. You hung it on the hook beside Mina’s oversized sweater, the two garments swaying gently together like old friends. The promise of relaxation beckoned as you made your way into the living room—until the scene before you sent a jolt through your system.

Your pulse leaped as you froze in place, a startled yelp escaping your lips. “Oh my god!” you exclaimed, spinning on your heel to shield your vision, hand slapping over your eyes. It was Mina—and her boyfriend, James—entwined on the couch, caught mid-act in a moment that no amount of bleach could ever scrub from your memory.

Mina let out a mortified shriek of her own, scrambling off James with the grace of a cat caught stealing food. She grabbed for a blanket nearby, throwing it over herself with a flushed face and wide eyes. “Jesus, Mina, my eyes!” you groaned, your voice dripping with disbelief and exasperation.

Snorting despite her embarrassment, Mina shot back, “Could’ve made yourself known, babe!”

You scoffed, still shielding your face. “Could’ve taken your boyfriend to the privacy of your damn room!” Your voice wavered between frustration and sheer mortification as you heard a muffled laugh from James.

Finally, Mina muttered something about being "decent," and you cautiously dropped your hand, still squinting in case of lingering trauma. Your gaze landed on James, who leaned back on the couch with an infuriating smirk plastered across his face.

“James,” you said flatly, your expression twisted in barely concealed disgust.

“Y/N,” he replied coolly, nodding his head like this was the most casual encounter in the world.

Five minutes later, James slipped out the door, murmuring something vague about an early workday. You didn’t bother to reply; the sound of the latch clicking shut was far more satisfying than anything you could have said. In the kitchen, you leaned against the counter, staring at the stove as the kettle slowly heated. The soft hiss of water simmering filled the quiet space, and the faint aroma of ginger tea grounds you. It was exactly what you needed after… that.

Mina emerged from her room in a plush robe, her damp hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She hummed a cheerful tune, completely unbothered by the awkwardness of earlier. Spotting you at the stove, she grinned and opened the cabinet, pulling down a mug. “Ooh, make me some too,” she chimed, her voice light and casual. Without waiting for a response, she settled onto the couch, her notebook and a mess of papers spread across the cushions as she began flipping through her homework.

Despite her antics, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of pride as you watched her. Mina, for all her reckless decisions and impulsive streaks, had come a long way. The debts that once weighed her down like a ball and chain were gone, erased thanks to the money In-ho had given her—a bittersweet reminder of him. She’d left her destructive gambling habits in the past, choosing instead to enroll in college and focus on building something real for herself. You admired her for it, even if she still did dumb things like… well, five minutes ago.

The sharp whistle of the kettle snapped you back to the present. You turned off the burner and poured the steaming water over the ginger tea bags, the fragrant steam curling in the air as you filled both mugs. Carefully, you carried them to the coffee table, setting one in front of Mina before claiming your own.

Instead of sitting on the couch beside her, you chose the floor, folding your legs under you and leaning your back against the side of the coffee table. The image of James smirking on that couch was still too fresh, and you weren’t about to risk reactivating that trauma.

Mina glanced up from her notes, a mischievous glint in her eye as she took a sip of her tea. “Still mad?” she teased.

You shot her a glare over the rim of your mug, muttering, “I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

Mina giggled softly, the sound light and teasing as she took another sip of her tea before setting the mug back down on the coffee table. “How are the old folks?” she asked, leaning back into the couch cushions, her robe bunching around her elbows.

You shrugged, your fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of your mug. “Same old. Happy, healthy.”

Her smile deepened, filling with an undeniable warmth that softened her usual playful demeanor. “We got really lucky,” she said quietly, her voice carrying an earnestness that made you pause.

You let out a noncommittal hum. “I guess,” you murmured, your eyes fixed on the tea swirling in your cup.

Mina sighed, the sound heavy with meaning, and when you glanced up, her expression was serious. “I know what happened was... awful, y/n. I have scars too.” Her voice softened, the raw honesty in her tone cutting through the air like a whisper against your soul. “And I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m proud of you. Of me. Of us.”

Her gaze locked with yours, filled with genuine love and unspoken understanding. The weight of it settled over you like a blanket, and without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your hand gently over hers where it rested on the couch. “I am too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes dropped to your tea, the surface still steaming, faint ripples distorting your reflection. The image wavered, much like your thoughts, and the memories clawed their way back to the surface. What happened was terrible, you thought. The image of In-ho’s face flashed in your mind—the moment his hand slipped from your waist, the cold finality of his silence after you had laid it all bare. Your ultimatum had hung in the air like a blade, and his lack of response had been a response all its own. He had made his choice, and you had been the one left behind.

A sharp ache rose in your chest, unbearable and relentless, like a bruise being pressed too hard. Your throat tightened, and before you realized it, a tear threatened to slip down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, as if denying its presence could erase the pain too.

“Y/n,” Mina’s voice broke through, soft yet cautious, filled with empathy. Her eyes were on you, studying you like she could see the cracks forming. She didn’t push, didn’t prod—just called to you in a way only she could, grounding you before the sorrow could drown you entirely.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to clear the sting in your eyes, and lifted your mug again, letting its warmth anchor you. “I’m okay,” you murmured, more to yourself than her.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat as you tried to steady your voice. “My gallery looked great on the way home,” you said, steering the conversation into safer waters.

Mina’s face lit up instantly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “The gallery show is going to be amazing!” she gushed, clapping her hands together like a kid on Christmas morning. Then, her expression turned sly. “We gotta talk outfits.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Mina, seriously?”

“What?” she said, feigning offense as she leaned forward dramatically, her robe slipping off one shoulder like she was auditioning for a soap opera. “This is your art, babe! Out in the world! Your name is growing—you’re practically famous now.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to grin. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“I’m serious,” she continued, pointing a finger at you like she was delivering an intervention. “I’ll be damned if I let you show up to your own gallery show looking like—like poop.”

You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your tea. “Poop? Really, Mina? That’s your big motivational speech?”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her tea with the most nonchalant expression you’d ever seen. “Hey, I’m just saying. Your art deserves a look. Something bold. Something sexy. Something that says, ‘I paint masterpieces, and I could also steal your man.’”

You doubled over, clutching your stomach as the laughter rolled out of you. “You are unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smug smile, raising her mug in a toast. “Now, I’m thinking black dress, black heels. You’ll look hot, mysterious, and rich. Total triple threat.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, letting Mina’s playful excitement wash over you. But even as you smiled, that nagging thought returned, creeping into your mind like a shadow. Your name is growing—you’re practically famous now. The words bounced around in your head, but the more you thought about them, the less certain they felt.

There was the real weight of it—the fear that gnawed at your insides, the fear of being found. In-ho. His face, his voice, the way he had slipped out of your life with no real answer, no real closure. The thought of him lurking in the background, somewhere out there, made your chest tighten with dread.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Your black gown gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting of the gallery, the fabric flowing gracefully as you moved through the space. The ceilings soared above you, high and vaulted, their pale elegance juxtaposed with the golden glow of the chandeliers that hung like jewels, casting shimmering reflections across the room. The air was filled with the delicate scent of fresh paint—a subtle reminder of the work that had gone into creating the very walls you now stood beside.

The entire gallery radiated warmth, both in its inviting atmosphere and the rich tones of the wood flooring beneath your feet. The walls, a gentle cream, embraced each of your breathtaking paintings, their vibrant colors popping against the soft backdrop. Each piece was lit by strategically placed lights, their glow accentuating every brushstroke, every detail, allowing your art to breathe within the spacious, airy room.

The space felt alive—alive with the pulse of your skill, the soft hum of voices and footsteps mingling with the soft music of the room. Between the intricate molding along the walls and the polished surfaces, there was an undeniable elegance in the air, as if the gallery itself was a work of art.

Every single one of your paintings was up for sale, except for one. It hung on the wall, almost like a secret tucked away among the rest, its presence more intimate than the others. You watched as your family gathered around it—Mina, James, your parents—all admiring the colors, the brushstrokes. It was your mother's favorite, so you had saved it just for her. No amount of her objections could convince you to let her pay for it. It was a gift, one she didn’t need to argue for.

A cordial smile spread across your face as you observed the happiness that radiated from your loved ones. Their laughter and excitement filled the space, and you couldn’t help but feel proud. You continued your slow walk through the gallery, taking in the joy that seemed to pulse through the room.

You couldn’t help but chuckle when you spotted your agent—an energetic whirlwind, buzzing from one person to the next, mingl..chatting up a storm, shaking hands, and making deals. She was a riot, always moving at a mile a minute, but you loved her for it. Without her, this night wouldn’t be the success it was.

But then, your pace slowed. You came upon the first painting you had made after years of silence. The piece felt almost sacred in its own way as if it held a part of you that nothing else could.

It was a portrait—of eyes. His eyes. In-ho’s eyes. The ones that had once looked at you with a depth you couldn’t forget, even if you tried. The brushstrokes were wide and purposeful, capturing the passion of those eyes in a way that felt almost too raw to bear. You had painted the eyes of a man who no longer existed, a man whose memory you had tried to preserve through this one simple piece.

You felt Mina step up beside you, her presence familiar and comforting as always. Her voice was soft, inquisitive. "I always wondered why you painted him," she said, her gaze fixed on the canvas before you.

You sighed, your chest tightening as you looked into those painted eyes. The memories rushed back, but they were no longer as painful as they once were. "I guess I wanted one last look," you began, your voice thick with emotion, "in the eyes of the man I remembered him to be."

You paused, your fingers brushing the edge of the frame as you spoke. "His warmth. His love. I preferred that fiction over the fact of who he turned out to be. A murderer."

You could feel Mina’s quiet understanding beside you. There was no judgment, no need for more words. She just stood with you, letting the weight of the moment settle between you both.

Mina had excused herself a moment later, disappearing into the restroom with a brief, apologetic smile, leaving you standing alone in front of the painting of In-ho. The eyes in the portrait seemed to follow you, a silent reminder of everything you had tried to forget. You couldn’t tear your gaze away, the quiet hum of the gallery around you blending into the background. Time seemed to stretch, the only thing real in the moment being the image before you—the man you had once known, captured forever in paint.

Just as you were lost in thought, a burst of energy tore through the air, and your agent appeared in front of you, practically bouncing with excitement. She squealed so loudly it almost startled you. "Ahh, y/n!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with elation. "I've got wonderful news!"

You had to reach out and grab her shoulders to steady her as she nearly hopped out of her skin, her enthusiasm almost too much to contain. You couldn’t help but giggle, the infectious energy pulling you from your reverie. "Okay, okay, what is it?"

She took your hands in hers, her grip tight with barely contained joy. "Your entire collection has been sold," she declared, her voice cracking with excitement.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, the words hanging in the air like a dream you weren’t sure you could believe. You had to cover your mouth with your hands as if to prevent the shock from spilling out in the form of a gasp. "What... who?"

Before she could respond, a voice—his voice—slashed through the atmosphere, smooth and unmistakable. It hit you like a cold wave, the shock of it rushing through your veins. "I never knew you had a knack for the arts."

The words settled in your chest, each syllable like a stone thrown into still water. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body tensed, as if time had frozen. There, standing at the entrance of the gallery, was In-ho—his presence as commanding as ever, his gaze nailed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. Your agent looked between the two of you, a slight frown knitting her brows. You heard her mumble just before excusing herself, surely picking up on the change in the air, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

Your sanity seemed to unravel in an instant, a quiet thread snapping, leaving you exposed and trembling. The ability to breathe, something you had taken for granted, felt stolen from you in a cruel, suffocating moment. He stood there, looking just the same as he did a year ago—too the same. In his all-black attire, the sharp cut of his suit made him seem impossibly distant, yet his red-bottomed shoes gleamed like a cruel reminder of the life you once shared. The man you had loved—maybe even still loved—was here, standing in front of you like a ghost you had desperately tried to bury.

Your body betrayed you, as it always did in moments like this. As he took a few slow, deliberate steps toward you, calling your name, every inch of you screamed to flee, to run, but your legs refused to obey. You found yourself moving backward in sync with him, each step matching his, like a puppet on invisible strings. The ground beneath your feet felt unstable, as though you were walking on glass, and you could hear the sound of your own heart pounding so loudly that it threatened to drown out everything else.

Your vision blurred. Your breath became shallow, ragged, as your mind raced to make sense of what was happening, but there was no escape from the crushing reality of it. This man—this man—was the reason your chest had once felt full of warmth, and now, he was the reason it felt as though every breath was being stolen from you.

You stood frozen, paralyzed by fear, as the memories of what you once shared crashed into you like waves in a storm. Three years. Three years of your life—maybe even more—lost but still echoing in the pit of your stomach. The implicit words between you and him were suffocating, the weight of his presence like a pressure pressing in from all sides.

It was as if time itself had stopped, your body locked in place, unable to move, unable to think. But then, like a break in the tension, a sound shattered the air—a crash. You snapped back to reality as you saw Mina, her champagne glass slipping from her fingers, sending shards of glass skittering across the floor in a violent spray. The noise was deafening, but it was nothing compared to the silence between you and In-ho, the suffocating silence that lingered like a storm cloud over your head.

Mina’s face twisted with pure disgust as her eyes locked on him, her body stiffening as she processed the sight of him. The contempt in her gaze was palpable, but her focus quickly shifted to you—to you, the one who was standing there, paralyzed in the wake of his presence. Without a word, she moved toward you, her hand grabbing your arm with urgency, pulling you away from him.

James was right behind, his grip gentle yet firm on your shoulders, a soft, steadying force in the chaos. But no touch could calm the frantic pulse racing through your veins. Your body felt as though it were vibrating with panic, your chest too tight, your breath too shallow. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in like a suffocating vise. You couldn’t breathe—you couldn’t think. The overwhelming, bone-deep fear that had settled into your bones was blurring your vision, making every step feel like an eternity.

You couldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be here, not with him, not in this moment, not in this suffocating air thick with memories you had buried deep.

With a sharp, desperate pull, you wrenched yourself from Mina’s grip, the sound of her shocked gasp barely registering as you moved. Your feet were moving before your brain could catch up, the instinct to escape roaring louder than everything else. You darted for the doors, the sound of your heart in your ears drowning out the world around you.

You ran—no, you fled. Past the warm golden light of the gallery, past the hum of conversations, and straight toward the exit. You could hear your name being called—his voice—but you refused to acknowledge it. It felt like a rope pulling at you, trying to drag you back into the darkness of everything you had tried to escape.

The doors slammed open in front of you, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap, but you didn’t care. Every step was a fight against the panic that gripped you, a fight against the crushing need to keep moving, to keep running. You could feel the weight of the past pressing against your back, but you pushed forward, ignoring the thumping in your chest, ignoring the tears threatening to fall.

You had to get away.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You found yourself on the nearest rooftop balcony, the city sprawled beneath you in a sea of lights and shadows. The buildings below were faint silhouettes against the dark sky, their windows flickering with life in a world you felt distantly removed from. The cool night air kissed your skin, a small comfort in the stillness that surrounded you. It had taken you nearly an hour to find some semblance of calm, your pulse finally beginning to slow after the frantic rush of fear.

Now, you sat on the edge of the rooftop, your legs dangling carelessly over the side, feet swaying slightly as they hovered inches above the air. The vastness of the city before you seemed to stretch endlessly, the lights below like stars scattered across a canvas too large to take in all at once. Your palms rested in your lap, fingers tense but unmoving, as if your body no longer belonged to you.

You knew you should be heading back to Mina, that you couldn’t stay here, isolated, like some lost fragment of yourself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to move. It was as though your body had forgotten how to function, paralyzed in the space between where you had been and where you needed to go. You couldn’t feel a thing—no warmth, no cold, just an emptiness that echoed in the hollow of your chest.

The world around you seemed muted, distant. Even the sound of the wind brushing through the city, the hum of life below, felt too far away. Then, faintly, you heard the rooftop door creak open behind you. A soft click as it shut, followed by the steady rhythm of footsteps that grew closer with each passing second.

You didn’t need to turn, didn’t need to acknowledge it. You knew it was him—the presence that had once filled your life with warmth, now a shadow that haunted your every step.

Still, you remained frozen. Your gaze stayed fixed on the city ahead of you, watching the endless rows of lights flicker in the distance. You couldn’t look back. You couldn’t face him again.

You let out a long, heavy sigh, the sound barely audible over the hum of the city below. Your gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, the neon lights of a billboard flickering against the night sky, as if they too were too distracted to focus. You didn’t want to look at him. You didn’t want to acknowledge the weight of his presence that seemed to press in from behind, suffocating the already thick air.

“Why are you here?” Your voice was cold, detached, as if you were asking a question you already knew the answer to, but still needed to hear.

He didn’t respond immediately, and you could feel him take a slow step forward. You refused to glance in his direction, but the quiet shift in the air told you everything you needed to know. He was close now, too close. The scrape of his shoes against the concrete was barely audible, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned against the rooftop’s edge beside you, his body close enough that you could feel his warmth, yet you remained perfectly still, frozen in your resolve.

“I want… I want to try again,” he said, his voice low and tentative, like a fragile promise hovering in the air between you. There was an edge of vulnerability to it, something that clawed at the pieces of you still willing to believe.

You snorted without thinking, the sound bitter and dismissive. Your eyes flicked to the billboard in the distance, the bright lights blinking at you like an illusion—a distraction from the truth. “Leave,” you said, your tone sharp and unwavering. You turned your head slightly, but kept your gaze fixed on the far-off ad, your jaw tight. “You’re wasting your time.”

The words felt like a weight lifted from your chest, but the moment they left your mouth, they felt hollow, the empty space they created echoing back at you. You didn’t want to hear the words, didn’t want to see the man who had once been everything to you standing there, asking for something you could never give him again.

“You never told me about your painting.” His voice was soft, almost too gentle, as if testing the waters, waiting for a crack in your armor.

You swallowed hard, the words like gravel in your throat. "There's a lot of things you don’t know about me anymore," you shot back, your voice colder than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. The words hung between you, each syllable another stone thrown into the chasm that had opened between you. A sudden breeze tugged at your hair, lifting it from your face like a tender reminder of everything you had. But now? Now, it felt like the wind was pushing you away from him.

He stood up, his movements slow, deliberate, and yet, there was a sense of urgency in the way he stepped closer to you. “I doubt that very much, y/n.” His voice was thick with something you couldn’t place—hope? Regret? Whatever it was, it grated against your already raw nerves.

Without thinking, you jumped down from the ledge you’d been sitting on. The movement was sharp and instinctive as if putting distance between you both could somehow silence the noise in your head. Your feet hit the ground with a soft thud, but it felt like the sound reverberated through your chest, shaking your bones. You lifted your hand, instinctively warding him off, your fingers trembling with a mix of anger and something far more painful. “No.” The word came out sharper than you meant, but it was all you could muster as you finally met his gaze. His eyes were weary, so weary, but there was warmth there, too—an impossible warmth that threatened to break you.

“Just… no.” You repeated, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, your chest tight. You took another step back, the distance between you growing but feeling like an ocean. “You made your decision. And in a way, I’m glad you did.”

His confusion was palpable, his head angling as if trying to decipher the pieces of you that were slipping through his fingers. You could see it in his eyes—the search for the woman he once knew, the woman who had loved him unconditionally. But she was gone.

"You have no idea what I had to go through to get to where I am.” The words fell out of you, raw and unfiltered, like a confession that had been buried beneath layers of pain, regret, and shattered trust. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to—he needed to hear it.

“I have yearned for you.” Your voice wavered for just a moment before you steadied yourself as if bracing for the impact. “Your touch, your smell, the way you used to make me feel alive… But I’ve realized again and again that my In-ho—the one I loved—is gone. And what’s left? What’s left is a killer.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and you saw the flicker of pain pass through his features—an undeniable flash of regret, or maybe guilt, but it was fleeting. It wasn’t enough. Nothing could ever be enough to undo what had been done, to heal the wounds that had been carved into your soul.

You stood there, breath shallow, heart aching, staring at him as the distance between you felt vast, impossible to close. You weren’t the same person anymore, and neither was he.

A tear shimmered in his eye, threatening to fall, but it never did. His lip trembled, just slightly, betraying the carefully constructed composure he tried so hard to maintain. He nodded, his expression breaking with something raw, something vulnerable that you hadn’t seen in so long. It was the first crack in the wall he had built between you—the wall that had torn you both apart.

He took a step back as if distancing himself from the emotion that was rising between you like a tidal wave. Slowly, painfully, he turned away from you and started walking toward the rooftop door, each step heavy, weighted with finality. The space between you and him grew wider, and your chest tightened in protest, but you couldn’t move. You could barely breathe.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, and for a brief moment, time seemed to freeze. Then, with one last, reluctant motion, he grabbed it, his fingers curling around the cool metal. He hesitated, turning his head back toward you just before he stepped into the hallway.

The words he spoke were like a slow, fragile exhale—barely audible but cutting through you with the sharpness of a thousand knives. "For what it's worth, y/n," he said, his voice thick with emotion, the sound of it scraping against your heart. "I shut the games down."

Your chin jerked in his direction, your eyes widening in disbelief, a rush of shock and confusion sweeping over you. His eyes were glassy, distant, but there was something else in them, too—shame, maybe sorrow. And, beneath it all, a tenderness that still managed to break through.

"For you," he added, his voice faltering as if the words had cost him more than he could bear to admit.

You felt a tremor run through you as if the very ground beneath you had shifted. He had done it. Shut the industry down—for you, carrying out the ultimatum you had given. The realization hit you like a wave, crashing over every part of you that had ever loved him, ever believed in him.

In a flash, he was gone.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You weren’t sure how you’d managed to end up in your bed, but fragments of the journey flickered in your memory—the way your legs had trembled beneath you, your hand gripping your stomach as nausea clawed its way through you. You could vaguely recall stumbling back to the gallery, the worried looks on Mina’s face blurring into the hum of voices, the soft touch of her hand guiding you. Now, you lay on your back in the quiet darkness of your room, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains and casting pale streaks across the ceiling.

Mina was beside you, her breaths slow and steady, her form curled beneath the blanket like a protective cocoon. The soft rhythm of her breathing should have been comforting, but your mind refused to settle. You couldn’t stop replaying his parting words, couldn’t stop turning them over and over in your head. “I shut the games down. For you.”

The weight of those words pressed against your chest, a maddening mixture of disbelief, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. Why had he waited until now to tell you? Why had he carried that secret in silence all this time, letting you believe he was still the man who had abandoned you for something darker, something cruel?

A bitter scoff escaped your lips as you rolled onto your side, the mattress shifting slightly beneath you. Your hand curled into the pillow, your knuckles brushing against the cool fabric as you begged for sleep to come, to pull you into its merciful void. But your mind betrayed you, spinning endlessly, racing through memories and questions you didn’t want to face.

You cursed yourself for it—for allowing him to take up space in your thoughts, for spending even one more second on this when you should have let it go. But the harder you tried to push the thoughts away, the tighter they clung to you, like vines wrapping around your chest.

Your heart ached with the weight of all you had endured, the heartbreak layered upon heartbreak, carved into you by the games. The memories were jagged and raw, cutting into your mind no matter how much time passed. Yet, as painful as it all was, there was a flicker of something else—something that almost felt like peace.

The games were over. They were done. Nobody else would have to endure that nightmare, to face the horrors you had barely survived. And that knowledge, however faint, eased something deep within you, even if just for a moment. But still… he had betrayed you.

Your chest tightened again as you stared at the darkened wall, his face flashing in your mind, his eyes weary and regretful. And then the thought came, unbidden and unwanted—what if you allowed him to explain? What if you let him tell you everything, from the beginning?

The thought lingered, curling around you like a question you weren’t ready to answer. It was a dangerous thing, entertaining the idea of understanding, of finding closure. Yet, in its own way, it brought a strange kind of calm.

And it was that thought—fragile, confusing, and bittersweet—that finally lulled you into sleep, your breaths softening, your body relaxing as the tension melted away into the night.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

It had been a long day—the longest. You sat stiffly in your office at the gallery, the faint hum of distant voices and footsteps barely reaching your ears. The weight of the day pressed down on you, heavier than the leather chair you were perched in. Your desk, usually a comforting space filled with the chaos of sketches and notes, felt foreign now, as though the air itself had shifted.

Your agent had called earlier, her voice brimming with urgency as she reminded you to sign over the paperwork for your collection to the buyer. You had chuckled at the simplicity of it, the practicality. Of course, it needed to be done. But beneath the surface of that mundane task, a strange sensation crept in—a quiet calmness, one you hadn’t felt in so long. This might be it. This might be your chance to finally get the closure you had been chasing in the recesses of your mind. Maybe, just maybe, you could finally get your explanation.

Your hands trembled slightly as you ran a cold, shaky hand through your curled hair, trying to smooth the strands that seemed to rebel against the order you so desperately sought. The thought of seeing him again, here, in this space, set your nerves alight.

And then, as if conjured by your thoughts, there he was.

In-ho knocked gently on the open door, his presence filling the room like a shadow stretching across the floor. He was composed, his suit perfectly pressed, but there was something different about him now—something weary in the way he carried himself, something almost fragile. You didn’t trust it, but you also couldn’t ignore it.

You gestured silently for him to sit, your throat too tight to speak just yet. He stepped inside, his movements measured, the soft sound of his shoes against the floor somehow louder than your own heartbeat. As he sank into the chair across from you, you stood, the paperwork clutched tightly in your hand. You circled around the desk, placing yourself directly in front of him, leaning back against the edge as if the furniture might anchor you.

The distance between you felt suffocating yet electric, and suddenly, you were aware of every small movement you made. You shifted, crossing your arms over your chest, a defensive barrier against the storm that was brewing inside you.

You couldn’t meet his eyes at first, not when the memory of everything you had said to him hung heavy between you. The words you’d hurled at him, sharp and unyielding, still lingered in the air, echoes of the heartbreak you hadn’t fully processed. And yet, even now, there was a part of you—a cursed, stubborn part of you—that begged you to apologize, to soften the sharp edges you’d used to shield yourself.

But you wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t apologize, not even as the tension between you thickened, not even as your heart screamed at you to do so. He didn’t deserve your apology, not after everything he had done.

The silence stretched on, heavy and taut, as you held the paperwork in your hands, your fingers clutching the edges tightly.

Your eyes flicked to him as he sat, legs crossed with an air of practiced ease, his confident demeanor filling the room like he owned every inch of it. Even now, after everything, In-ho carried himself with the kind of composure that could command a crowd—or, in this case, silence. His posture was effortless, but his presence was anything but. Every movement, every breath he took seemed calculated, deliberate, as if even his stillness was designed to draw attention.

You cleared your throat, breaking the thick, unspoken tension that lingered between you like a cloud. “From the beginning,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the quiet. It wasn’t a request—it was a demand.

His gaze flicked to yours, sharp yet unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might push back, deflect, or stall. But instead, he gave a slight, measured nod as if he’d been expecting this all along. He gestured toward the door with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes locking on yours.

“Shut the door,” he said simply, his voice low and calm yet carrying the weight of something far deeper.

You hesitated for just a beat, long enough for your heart to stutter in your chest. Then, wordlessly, you turned and walked to the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet room. The faint click of the latch as you shut it behind you felt like the closing of a chapter—or perhaps the opening of one you weren’t sure you wanted to read.

With the door closed, the room seemed smaller, the air thicker. You made your way back to your spot against the desk, leaning into it with an unspoken attempt to steady yourself. The papers in your hand brushed against the wood, but your focus was on him now—on the way he sat, still composed, as if he had all the time in the world.

And yet, you noticed the slight shift in his shoulders, the faint tension in the way his hands rested on his knee. He wasn’t as calm as he wanted you to believe.

You crossed your arms again, this time more for yourself than anything else, and tilted your head slightly, waiting. A strange mixture of anticipation and dread coiled in your stomach as your gaze bore into him, silently urging him to begin.

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before leaning forward just slightly, resting his forearms on his thighs. The movement was subtle, but it felt like a shift in the balance of the room, as though he was finally ready to open a door he had kept locked for far too long.

"I had played the games. Once before when I was younger." You straightened at that, fidgeting, as he watched you before continuing.

“My wife... she was sick,” he began, his voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions he was trying to hold back. “She was expecting our child, and I was desperate—so desperate. I didn’t see any other way, so I entered.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as though the weight of the memory was too much to bear.

“My thought process was simple,” he continued, his tone quieter now, like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “I’d either save the life of the woman I loved and our baby… or die trying. There wasn’t an in-between for me. But when I made it out, when I finally had the money in my hands…” His voice cracked, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “It was too late.”

Your gaze softened, despite yourself, the sharp edges of your anger dulling for just a moment as your arms slowly uncrossed.

Your throat dried, and your hands shook.

"And then I found you," he looked up, locking eyes with you.

“You were everything—fierce, unshakable, and so utterly beautiful that it hurt to look at you sometimes. The day you left, it was like the air was stolen from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move—like the world had come to a standstill, and I was left frozen in the neverending emptiness you left behind.”

He leaned back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a weight that made your breath hitch. The intensity in his gaze wasn’t sharp—it was soft, regretful, and filled with something you hadn’t seen from him in a while: vulnerability.

“I ended the games the day you left,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with emotion, as though each word carried the burden of his actions.

You froze, the weight of his confession hitting you like a punch to the chest. Your teeth pressed into your cheek as you bit down, trying to steady yourself, trying not to let the shock show. But the tightness in your chest betrayed you, your hands fidgeting at your sides.

“I didn’t tell you,” he continued, his tone lower now, quieter, “because you needed to move on. You needed to heal from… from what I let happen. From what I allowed to become your nightmare.”

His voice cracked, just slightly, and he looked away for a fleeting moment, as if even he couldn’t bear the shame. When his eyes returned to yours, they glistened under the soft light, raw and open in a way that felt almost unbearable.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling under the weight of the words. “For all of it. For the despair I caused you. For the part I played in your agony. For… for breaking the one thing I swore I’d protect.”

You felt your chest tighten, the lump in your throat rising as his words settled over you, heavy and unrelenting. There was no deflecting the rawness of his confession, no mistaking the sincerity that poured from him like a dam finally breaking.

He didn’t try to justify himself further, didn’t try to fill the silence that followed. He just sat there, his gaze searching yours, silently asking for something you weren’t sure you could give—forgiveness, understanding, maybe even absolution.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady the storm of emotions swirling within you. For a moment, you stayed there, leaning against the desk, your fingers gripping the edge as if letting go might send you tumbling. But then, slowly, you pushed yourself away, your movements deliberate, each step toward him feeling like a quiet surrender to the moment.

He watched you approach, his gaze flickering with surprise and a cautious hope, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were closing the distance between you.

When you stopped in front of him, your heart pounded in your chest, but your hand was steady as you extended it toward him. The air between you felt charged, heavy with everything that had been said—and everything that hadn’t.

“Come on,” you said softly, your voice gentler now, the tension beginning to unravel at the edges. A small, almost tentative smile tugged at your lips, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was for him or for yourself. “Let’s get dinner.”

For a beat, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours as though trying to understand this small gesture of truce. Then, finally, his lips quirked into the faintest semblance of a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was enough to make something in your chest loosen.

He reached for your hand, his touch warm and grounding, his fingers wrapping around yours with a quiet reverence. As you helped him to his feet, the weight of everything between you seemed to shift—not gone, but lighter somehow.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Dinner had passed quicker than you anticipated, the hours slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers. Now, the two of you walked side by side down the dimly lit sidewalk, the city alive with a quiet hum. Neon lights shimmered above, their reflections dancing faintly on the wet pavement from a drizzle earlier in the evening. In the distance, the soft melody of a street performer’s guitar drifted through the air, mingling with the occasional chatter of passersby.

You bundled yourself tighter in your jacket, the chill nipping at your cheeks and nose, while In-ho walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. His pace was slow, measured, matching yours as if he were careful not to overstep. The sound of your heels clicking against the concrete filled the silence between you, rhythmic and grounding, giving you something to focus on as your thoughts churned.

A question had been simmering in your mind all night, clawing for attention, refusing to let you push it aside any longer. You stole a glance at him, his profile illuminated briefly as you passed under a glowing streetlamp. His expression was neutral, unreadable as always, yet his presence felt heavier than the cold air.

Taking a steadying breath, you licked your lips, your voice breaking through the quiet. “Have you been following me?”

Your words dangled in the ambiance, remaining in the space between you like a sudden gust of wind.

He turned his head toward you, his steps faltering slightly as his eyes met yours. For a brief moment, his expression flickered—was it surprise? Guilt? Something else? You couldn’t tell. But the tension crackled like static, the city around you fading into the background as you waited for his answer.

He came to a complete stop, his body stiffening as if the weight of your question had rooted him to the ground. His eyes widened, the shock evident as they dropped to his polished shoes, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to meet yours as he rocked between his feet. The faint glow of the city lights above cast soft shadows over his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the subtle quiver in his lips.

You tilted your head, studying him with a mixture of resignation and frustration, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. “I knew it,” you muttered, the confirmation settling like a stone in your chest.

Your mind raced back to all those moments—the uneasy prickle at the back of your neck, the lingering sensation of being watched, the inexplicable certainty that he had been near. You remembered the black sedan at the light stop, the way your instincts had screamed his name even before your eyes had confirmed it.

In-ho lifted his gaze, and for a moment, there was something raw in his expression—an apology, perhaps, or a plea for understanding. But before you could decipher it, he moved. He stepped toward you, each footfall deliberate and unyielding, closing the distance between you with a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch.

When he finally stopped, he was closer than he had been all day, his presence towering yet strangely fragile, like he was holding himself together with sheer will as you looked up at him. His eyes softened as they locked onto yours, filled with something that looked like regret tangled with a need he couldn’t suppress.

“I ordered my men to keep their distance,” he admitted, his voice low and unsteady, each word weighed down with guilt. He paused, exhaling shakily as he raked a hand through his hair. “But I wanted to…” He faltered, his gaze breaking away for a moment before returning to you. “needed to make sure you were safe.”

His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, each syllable carrying the weight of his choices and the silent fear he hadn’t dared voice until now. You could see it—feel it—in the way his shoulders slumped slightly, as if the confession had cost him more than he was willing to show.

You turned away from him, your breath catching in your throat as you tried to steady yourself. The city lights blurred in your vision, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. You could feel the tears threatening to rise, but you fought them back, not wanting him to see how deeply his presence still affected you.

“I don’t know what to do with this, In-ho,” you whispered, your voice thick with uncertainty. You wiped at your eyes quickly, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tremor in your hands. “I don’t know what to do with you. With… all of this.” His eyes softened as he took a small step closer, but you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t—not right now.

“I don’t expect you to have the answers,” he said quietly, his tone more fragile than you had ever heard it. “I just…I want to make things right, even if I can’t fix everything.”

He took a tentative step closer, his movements slow, as if afraid that any sudden motion might cause you to pull away. You turned back to him. Your breath hitched in your throat, but you didn’t move. The space between you both felt electric, charged with unstated emotion, yet it was still so fragile.

Without saying a word, he reached up, his hand trembling slightly as it cupped your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a wave of emotion crashing over you—everything you had locked away, all the longing and pain, threatening to break free.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into the softness of his touch, letting the comfort of it surround you like a fleeting memory. The space between you was still there, but this touch—this small, gentle act—felt like a lifeline.

Your heart was being pulled in two directions. The part of you that had loved him so fiercely, that had believed in him so completely, still burned with the longing for something—anything—to change. But the other part of you, the part that had been broken by his silence, by his choices, couldn’t see a clear way forward.

“I don’t know if I can let you back in,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, the words leaving your lips like an apology you weren’t ready to make. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that. ”You finally met his gaze, and there was a quiet desperation in his eyes that made your heartache. He didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t need to. His eyes said it all, full of hope and regret and an apology too big to fit into words.

Then without thinking, you whispered, “But I want to try.”

His gaze softened, something in his eyes shifting—relief, hope, or maybe both. Before either of you could speak again, you reached up, your fingers brushing his cheek as you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. The moment felt fragile, full of all the things you had yet to say, and yet, it was everything that had remained unsaid.

When you pulled back, you found yourself searching his eyes, trying to piece together the weight of what was happening between you. You weren’t sure what the future held, but in that moment, you knew you wanted to try.

“I’ll be here,” In-ho whispered, his voice thick with something more than words. “However long it takes.”

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