#doyoung graphic

[bulgasari-seo]

nct 127 as nct 127 songs

[deryport]

sintonia do amor.

johnny, yuta & doyoung.

para uso pessoal.

inspiração em @xuggistuff

[leahuzumakisblog]

NCT DOJAEJUNG Perfume

If it was designed as Taylor Swift's Midnights album.

[prettythingsforyou]

hello future and perfume t-shirt designs

[hkyts]

some graphic designs i did for fun

[heartseungs-archive]

the dreams we’re scared of | l.dh

genre ♠ murder mystery au, thriller, romance, angst

pairings ♠ crime scene investigator! haechan x reader

word count ♠ 17.8k

synopsis ♠ There’s something about seeing a dead body in front of you that makes it more real, almost as if the death is your own. But when your nights get more sleepless with every new victim, Haechan fears you may be in over your head. Especially if a serial killer’s still on the move, watching every move the both of you make.

warnings ♠ kidnapping, mentions of blood, violence, vulgar language, mentions of alcohol (nothing too graphic however this is a murder mystery so dead bodies are described to some relative detail)

info ♠ the idea of csi! haechan is just really sexy. i’ve never actually watched csi​​

Your footsteps are the only sound that accompanies you at this time of night, besides the occasional lone cricket. Here, the shadows seem longer, and the distance between each streetlight further and further. The one that you pass flickers brokenly, gnats buzzing in and out of your vision.

The darkness is solid enough that you could touch it if you wanted. Yet, with every step you take, it retreats just a little, enough for you to see the tips of your white sneakers against the rough gravel pavement. It continues on until you see the familiar street sign. You’ve walked this alley hundreds of times, but it never gets any better.

You’re strangely tense, but you suppose it’s just because of the jitters that being alone naturally gives. Still, there’s an uneasy feeling resting in your chest, the pace of your breathing slightly heavier.

Tonight feels different. Even the moon is hiding behind the clouds, almost as if it’s scared. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, but your pace gets just that tiny bit faster.

However, there’s a slight dissonance to the footsteps. You’re not the best at hearing, but it doesn’t just seem like an echo.

You pause, just briefly.

The sound of footsteps continues.

Something is very, very wrong, and the feeling of danger seizes you, enough for you to start breaking into a run.

The rapid thudding of someone else’s shoes against the ground follows immediately, and you try to focus on the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, the cadence of your breathing.

You’re so close to the exit of the alley, the turn to the main road, that you can see the light leaking onto the pavement from the corner of your vision.

You’re so near that you begin to hear the familiar rumble of the cars on the highway when a hand grabs you roughly and you fly back.

A choked scream barely escapes you before your body is slammed against the pavement painfully and your face follows after. You don’t even get to see the man above you, his face veiled.

Darkness surrounds you, heavy and choking and endless, and you sink into it like quicksand, unable to escape.

Your eyes fly open wide, and there’s a soft gasp that escapes you. Around you are the walls of that exact same alley, but sunlight floods through brightly, and you can see the little cracks in the cement, bits of green poking through.

Another difference is that the alley is not deserted, but instead filled with the buzz of chatter, and the occasional chuckle.

The very last, and likely most important difference is that the girl lying dead on the floor isn’t you, but Kim Mijoo, twenty-six years of age, estimated time of death 3.45am.

You stride over, ducking underneath the yellow tape that blocks off the crime scene. For a job so macabre, the vibrant colour seems abnormally cheery and out of place.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” you state to the two men who are there before you are. Doyoung has his arms crossed, worrying his lip tiredly when he turns to face you. Next to him, a man with pink hair is crouched down next to the body, inspecting it closely. When he looks up at you, eyes curious, your breath hitches.

Not the time, Y/N. For god’s sake, there’s a dead body. You scold yourself, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think the assailant grabbed her from behind. There’s very obvious head trauma, but it doesn’t seem to be from a weapon. He probably slammed her head into the gravel, and that’s why there are bits of it embedded in her skin. The wounds on her neck seem like strangling, but there’s no evidence of a struggle. She was likely already unconscious or dead when he did it.” Your face is blank as you describe it, and Doyoung tries to hold back a grimace, but he nods. A glimmer of pride enters your heart, but it’s quickly quashed by a bitter feeling when you look down at Mijoo. Having her name makes it feel personal, almost as if you know her.

Haechan remains silent as he looks at you, gaze heavy. You try to avoid it.

“We’ll go with that for now, and confirm it when we get the medical report. Let’s head back to the office for now, and see what we can get from the evidence,” Doyoung states grimly, before waving over the coroner.

The last you see of Mijoo is her face, bloody and bruised, before it is zipped up smoothly into a pristine white bag. Still, your eyes follow as she’s dragged into a van unceremoniously like a piece of cargo.

Doyoung is already ahead of the both of you, getting into his own car.

“You need to stop putting yourself into the shoes of the victims,” Haechan mutters lowly, and you jump at his voice. In the sunlight, his faded pink hair is almost bronze. His face lacks any amusement, and you shrug.

“It gets the job done. You saw how Doyoung looked. Everyone’s stressed,” you defend.

“Still, that can’t be good for anyone. Or healthy.” There’s a sliver of concern in Haechan’s voice, and you smile shakily at him. Haechan’s right, like he is most of the time. There’s still cold sweat beading at the base of your neck from your little spiel, and a chill that refuses to leave. Still, it’s insignificant compared to the fear that Mijoo must have felt, and that’s what you tell yourself each time you allow your overly vivid imagination to aid you.

The both of you remain quiet on the journey back, and you try to enjoy the bustling scenery of Seoul that passes you by. However, Mijoo’s face keeps flashing in your memory, unwilling to leave. You’re quite sure it won’t until the case is closed.

When you finally enter the station, you’re immediately hit in the face by the freezing air-conditioning, and the frantic buzz of activity. Neither you nor Haechan slow your footsteps, however, as the both of you turn a corner and take the private staff elevator up to the sixth floor. The office here is much quieter, an almost deathly calm, which you suppose is appropriate for the kind of work you do.

You’ve been in the Major Crime Division for three years, and the work only gets more interesting day by day.

“Y/N. Haechan. Doyoung’s waiting for the both of you in his office.” Jaemin’s desk is near the front of the office, and he’s always the first to welcome the both of you with a smile. You try to grin back, but Jaemin doesn’t expect much. He’s obviously heard of the events that transpired this morning, and he was the one to get the civilian call when the body was reported.

You don’t bother to knock when you slide open the glass door of Doyoung’s office, which is as clean as the first day you walked in and he handed you your badge. A wooden nameplate lies on his desk, the word ‘Superintendent�� emblazoned in glossy letters.

“Here’s what information we have on her. Kim Mijoo works as a waitress at a bar in ltaewon, which explains why she was out so late. She lives in Gangseo, and was murdered along Gangseo-ro 76 gil.”

You hear Haechan’s sharp intake of breath at Doyoung’s words, and know that he’s thinking the exact same as you. Gangseo has the highest violent crime rate in Seoul, and for good reason. No one in their right mind would go there late at night, unless they had to. For her to be a waitress in Itaewon and live in Gangseo…it was likely that Mijoo wasn’t just a waitress, but offered more to her customers.

It seemed in poor taste to point out the obvious truth, and you’re grateful for the silence that befalls the room. She had already died an undignified death that she didn’t deserve, even if most people on the street would sneer at her choice of occupation.

Yet, you saw it for what it was. A woman who needed to keep a roof over her head somehow. Not so different from yourself.

Despite his tendency to crack jokes in inappropriate situations, you’re grateful for Haechan’s tactfulness now, as he remains sombre, standing next to you.

“Apparently, she’s made a report for sexual harassment against a man by the name of Yang Seojun, but that happened two years ago. Still, it’s one of the only leads we have.”

You look up sharply, your mind spinning through possibilities. “It has to be someone she knows. The crime seems premeditated, and they must have known her path home. Seojun may be a main suspect, but it could very well be a customer or a colleague,” you reasoned.

“I suppose we’ll have to make a trip down to Itaewon then,” Haechan replies simply, hands tucked into his slacks. Doyoung nods. “The both of you go ahead. I’m still waiting for forensics to get back to us. I want the both of you off work punctually though, got it?”

His tone is stern, but you nod, knowing that he’s doing it out of concern. For all his coldness and sharp tongue, Doyoung is a good superior to you and Haechan. He doesn’t misuse his power, doesn’t make unreasonable requests, and pulls his weight as much as anyone else. He’s part of the reason why you’ve enjoyed working here so much, even if the pay is less-than-ideal.

You’re back in Haechan’s car again before you know it, the address of the bar keyed into his GPS. He drums his hands on the steering wheel, occasionally humming to whatever song is playing out of the speakers.

“Can you not look so damn excited? We have a crime to solve on our hands,” you huff, levelling a sharp glance at Haechan. He simply shrugs in acknowledgement. “Unlike you, I’m not some psychic empath. Itaewon is fun, even if we’re technically on official work.”

“You better not run off,” you warn dangerously, and Haechan smiles smugly. “I won’t drink until the questioning is done, okay?”

“That’s fine, I suppose.”

The journey down to Itaewon is slowed by the heavy buzz of traffic and heralded by the slow change of grey-toned skyscrapers to neon lights. The area that both of you are in is further from the most crowded parts of Itaewon and looks much older.

“This place is deserted,” Haechan mutters when he’s done parking his car, keys casually dangled in one hand. You narrowly avoid a puddle that’s filled with trash and something that's very evidently not water, trying not to wince at the smell of vomit.

“Well, it’s a Monday. I doubt many people would be out partying at this time,” you reply as the both of you push open a glass door that is smudged with grime. The stairs are narrow as you descend, and your grip on the railing is tight.

When you reach the bottom, however, the walls are noticeably newer, leading to two dark wooden doors that are in much better condition. Haechan knocks sharply thrice, before stepping back.

After what seems like an eternity, the door opens, and a lady steps out. Soft jazz music escapes from the bar into the cramped hallway that both of you are standing in. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black dress, her hair pulled back in a neat bun with two perfectly-placed curls framing her face. Her eyes are catlike, sharp as she takes in the both of you.

“We’re not open yet. Come back in three hours.” However, before she can shut the door, Haechan quickly jabs his foot in. In close quarters, he towers over her, his expression void of emotion. If you didn’t know him, you would probably be intimidated. Still, the woman’s gaze remains steely, her hand resolutely on the door handle. You suppose she has plenty of experience with troublemakers, and Haechan’s actions are barely a cause for concern.

“We’re conducting an investigation on behalf of the National Police Agency. Senior Inspectors Lee Haechan and Y/N L/N, Major Crime Division. I’m afraid you’ll have to let us in.” Haechan’s tone is polite, but with an underlying sharpness that tells you he’s not joking.

If he has to, he’ll break down this door to get what he needs.

However, the lady just smiles even wider, her pearly-white teeth a stark contrast from the shade of blood-red that her lips are painted. “I’ve had people come in here telling me they’re superintendents, executives, chaebols, and diplomats. Most of them were vastly overselling their identities. Unless you have proof or a warrant, I don’t want to see you here.”

“You have an employee. Kim Mijoo. She left this place at around three am on Friday,” you interject, and Haechan turns back to look at you.

Something flashes in the woman’s eyes, and she immediately focuses on you. “Did Mijoo get into any trouble?”

You feel as if you detect a hint of fear in her voice, but you ignore it for now. “Not trouble. She was murdered. We’re currently investigating, so it would be wise of you to not obstruct a public official’s duty.”

There is a beat of silence, and then two. Your eyes remain fixed on her as she swallows, eyes blinking minutely. Finally, the pressure on Haechan’s feet is eased, and she retreats backwards.

“I suppose there’s no avoiding my civic duty, then. Come in.” Her voice is level when she speaks again, with no evidence of any shock.

The bar inside is surprisingly upscale, considering its dilapidated exterior. The walls are lacquered wood with hints of gold, and your shoes clack softly against the black marble floor. You follow her past the bar counter, into a hallway filled with curtains. She pushes one aside to reveal a private room, gesturing for the both of you to take a seat.

The plush velvet of the armchair is soft against your back, but your back remains stiffly straight. You’re never really able to relax while on duty, while Haechan easily slouches back into a relaxed posture.

“We’ve got an hour until my employees come in, so that’s the time you have. There aren’t any cameras in this room either, so don’t worry about that.”

The image in her file finally corresponds with the woman sitting in front of you, who looks vastly different with make-up. This is Song Chaeyeon, thirty-four years of age and the owner of the bar that Mijoo has been working at for the past eighteen months.

“Great. We just have a few questions. What is your relationship with the victim?”

“She’s just an employee. We are friendly enough, I suppose. However, she is much closer to a few of the other girls that work here.”

“Do you know anyone who might have had a motive for the crime? An unruly customer, perhaps?” Chaeyeon shakes her head.

“Our customers are all regulars. They’re familiar with the girls here. No one would try anything, as far as I know. However, if the girls get personally involved with their clients, then….I can’t guarantee. But no one would know that except them.” You understand what she’s insinuating. Prostitution may be outlawed, but there are so many other possibilities.

“We’ll need a list of all the employees here, along with any customers that Mijoo has interacted with, even in passing. In addition, we’ll need corroboration for the whereabouts of everyone on that list on the night of the murder. It would also be good if we could speak to the employees that Mijoo is close to today. Otherwise, they can come down to the station within the week,” you say monotonously as if reciting a script. This isn’t your first murder investigation, but it is the most confusing one.

Haechan has remained silent throughout the entire thing, but it’s no surprise to you. He prefers not to be involved in the technical procedure, which you’ve naturally taken over instead. As much as either of you hate to say it, he’s the muscle when the both of you are out on official duty. Although you’ve never encountered any real danger, or deliberately put yourself in a situation that might warrant serious risk, it feels good having a safeguard, a partner to watch your back.

And once the both of you return to the station, he’s the first one to throw himself headfirst into research and pore over the information you’ve gathered, while you’re there mainly to bounce ideas and help with organization.

“You can speak to them today. Everyone will be here, as we get ready for the week. If the both of you are willing to wait in this room, they should be here soon.” You nod, attempting a polite smile. Despite her cold demeanour, she has been helpful, and you have no interest in getting on her bad side unnecessarily, especially since this is one of the few sources of information you have.

She casts another glance at Haechan, who remains unmoving. You nudge him with your elbow, but he ignores it, only humouring you with a tilt of his head. After a pause, she leaves, and the only thing that remains is the unfamiliar scent of her floral perfume.

“Thoughts?” You finally give in to your curiosity, wondering what’s kept Haechan silent all this time.

“I don’t particularly trust her, but we’ll have to work with it,” he states, resting his hands on his knees while the both of you are temporarily allowed some solitude.

The first person you interview is a shaky, nervous waiter who barely looks past twenty. He responds to each one of your questions with a stutter, evidently distraught from the moment he walked into the room. From the way you meet Haechan’s eyes and he sighs, you know this isn’t the person you’re looking for.

The second one is more promising, however. If Chaeyeon is to be believed, this is Mijoo’s closest friend at her workplace, a girl who only joined a few months after her.

“Xiaoting. You’re not a local, are you?” Haechan asks, and she shakes her head. “Moved here a decade ago. I’ve got my papers at home, if you need to verify that.” Her voice is terse, as if anticipating the question you have on the tip of your tongue.

Sometimes, you find yourself hating it too, the way they shrink back from you, knowing the authority you represent. It’s most definitely not a burden for you to shoulder, and neither is the blame on Haechan, but he understands, squeezing your hand comfortingly and taking over the questions.

“There’s no need. Thank you for cooperating with this investigation. We asked Chaeyeon this just now, but do you know anyone that Mijoo was closely involved with?”

“Close enough to motivate a murder?” Her tone is direct, and you are slightly taken aback, but you nod.

“There are a few that come around here and there, but I see Woo Eunhyuk with Mijoo most often. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him, but Yang Seojun. He was Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.”

“The one that she made a harassment report against,” Haechan mutters absentmindedly.

“Yeah. They broke up about three years ago. But he kept coming to find her, and got drunk here. Smashed a few bottles in the process too. I’ve never seen him threaten her, though. But if you’re asking me who murdered her, I’d only have one obvious suspect,” she replies, and you hum in thought. It’s plausible enough. A classic story of a violent ex and a crime of passion fits the bill a little too perfectly, and it’s definitely something the newspapers would love. It would be easy to simply close the investigation there, but you’re not too excited to come to a conclusion just yet.

“You’ve been very helpful, Xiaoting. If there’s nothing, I think we’re done here.” Xiaoting nods, but she seems to hesitate slightly, as if there’s something she wishes to say.

“Mijoo was my friend. I know what other people think of us, working in places like this, but she didn’t deserve any of that,” she says nervously, eyes aimed at her lap. Her shoulders are sunken, and you feel a sense of sorrow for the girl. She’s likely no older than you.

“Feel free to call us if you need anything, or if you think of any other information that might be helpful. We’ll do our best,” you reply, and Xiaoting smiles gratefully at the both of you.

As you and Haechan exit, the image of Xiaoting sitting in the room alone, shoulders sunken, lingers. You jolt slightly when you realise it’s already dark outside, the sun rapidly setting. The streets are slightly more crowded now, and your phone lights up with a text from Doyoung. Despite the fatigue, you smile at his message, which is an insistent reminder to get off work.

“You know what? I think I need a drink,” you state, rubbing at your temples, and Haechan lets out a scoff.

“Drinking when we have work tomorrow? How unlike you,” he teases, but Haechan is quick to stride towards the nearest bar he sees, the red pop-up tent visible from a mile away.

He holds the curtain open for you as you step in, the odd chivalry of the gesture causing your lips to tilt up. Inside the small space, the sound of chatter seems intensified, your other senses dulled by the steam that billows above the food.

You and Haechan find yourselves a table in the corner, the feeling of the rickety stool strangely comforting. Before you know it, there are four bottles of soju on the table and two steaming bowls of kalguksu in front of you, along with a few sides. You realise that neither of you have had a meal since you headed down to the crime scene in the late morning, and you’re starving. For a while, both you and Haechan don’t talk at all, instead focused on the food.

“I know Doyoung said we’re off work, but I think we have an obvious target. Even then, something about this doesn’t feel right. I feel like there’s more to this.”

“Xiaoting said that he hadn’t been to the bar in months, since the last time he appeared and Mijoo had to chase him out. So why would he murder her now?” he questions, and you shrug.

“Premeditated crimes take time. Even then, six months is a long time to wait to kill someone, I suppose.” You’re lost in thought, and Haechan grabs the empty shot glass from your hand to refill it.

“Something might have instigated it. A confrontation, maybe.”

“Do you think we can get access to Mijoo’s phone? Text messages, perhaps.”

“From what I heard, the water damage was a little too much for the old model. But Jisung and Chenle will see what they can do,” he assures, and you nod, deciding to leave it at that for now. As much as you enjoy your work, you don’t wish to pester Haechan with thoughts on it, not when the entire purpose of this meal is to unwind.

The first day is always the worst day, and it doesn’t get better until the both of you solve the case. And then the cycle starts all over again.

You watch as Haechan orders two more bottles, and you squint at him, confused. “Didn’t we agree on four bottles?”

“We’re not university students anymore, Y/N. You can handle a bit more than two bottles. If not, I’ll just drink the rest,” is Haechan’s smooth reply, and in your slightly tipsy state, you don’t question his statement.

The both of you had instituted that rule for both your sakes after a bad test had the both of you downing ten bottles and waking up with a splitting headache and no memory of the night before. Four bottles were comfortable enough that you felt the effects, but outside of the dangerous territory where you might do things you would regret.

Two hours later, there’s only one full bottle left on the table, and you’re really feeling the effects of the alcohol now, while the man in front of you is still relatively sober, the flush on his neck the only betrayal of his sobriety. Haechan wavers occasionally in your vision, and you grin at him.

As much as you don’t believe in using alcohol to avoid your problems, it feels nice to have it temporarily shifted to the back of your mind, clouded by the drowsiness that is quickly flooding into your limbs.

“Hello, Hyuckie,” you mumble to no one in particular, but Haechan perks up. He hasn’t heard the nickname in years, and you only seem to use it when you’re tipsy or extremely tired. Usually both. He takes a quick glance at his watch. It’s half past ten, and he runs calculations through his head. The both of you have to be in the office at nine tomorrow, and you wake up at seven-thirty.

“Y/N, we should go,” he says, tugging at your arm, but you only look up at him, smiling blearily. Up close, your face is flushed, your eyes clouded as you blink drowsily to clear your vision. Your bleary-eyed expression is cute, Haechan thinks, but he quickly dismisses the thought in favour of pulling you up from the seat and towards the exit.

He needs to get you home. Otherwise, you’re going to be dead on your feet from exhaustion tomorrow.

He’s quick to hail a cab while keeping an insistent grip on your arm to ensure you don’t wander off. You’re much more excitable when you’re drunk, a complete opposite from your usually composed self. It’s a direct contrast from Haechan, who’s loud when sober and withdraws into himself once the alcohol hits. And as much as he finds the way you act endearing, he’s also half-terrified he’ll turn around to see you gone in the crowd of people.

The entire drive, the taxi driver keeps glancing back at the both of you, and Haechan thinks it’s because he’s terrified that one of you might puke your guts out into his car. When the car stops, he slips the elderly man a few extra notes, before helping you out gingerly.

He lets out a sigh of relief when the both of you are finally outside your apartment door, and Haechan reaches underneath the doormat for the spare keys, not trusting your hand-eye coordination right now.

He’s halfway in and his shoes are off before he realises you haven’t followed him in, instead leaning against the wall of the corridor half-asleep.

“You are the most troublesome person I know,” he complains as he drags you in, only to be met with a weak hit on his back.

“I wonder what everyone at the office would say if they knew that you were prone to such violent tendencies,” Haechan mutters, only to be hit another time.

“They would say…that you’re a big bully. Who’s always stubborn and makes me do all the boring work,” you retort. However, Haechan can’t take you very seriously, especially when your eyes are closed while you say it. He lets out a barely-audible laugh, and immediately guides you to your room, where you’re quick to lie down.

“Well, this big bully is the one getting you home safe and into bed. You’ll thank me when you wake up,” he says, unlacing your sneakers, but he looks up when he doesn’t get a response. Your breathing has slowed, and Haechan realises you must have fallen asleep. Despite himself, he smiles.

You’ll complain about sleeping with your work clothes on, but there’s nothing much Haechan can do. He’s done a rather decent job of removing your makeup, or at least that’s what he thinks as he disposes of the wipes in the bin. There’s a set of his clothes that he keeps here for occasions such as these, and he’s quick to make himself comfortable on your couch.

You had added a few more pillows a few months ago at his protest, and Haechan found it much easier to fall into a drowsy state, addled by the alcohol.

His last thought is of you, before his eyes finally close and he drifts off.

“Can anyone get in touch with Woo Eunhyuk? I’ve been ringing his line all morning,” you state, frustration creeping into your tone. Of all the inconveniences to befall you, this one feels particularly pointless.

“He’s currently on a business trip in the US and won’t be back till the end of the month,” Jaemin replies, and you try not to sigh. A month is a long time, especially when he’s a prime suspect.

“If he was just a normal businessman, we’d have a much easier time,” Haechan points out, and you glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“Searched the guy up out of curiosity. He has a net worth of twenty million.” Jaemin lets out a low whistle at that, and you crumple the paper in your fist unwittingly. You understood what Chaeyeon meant now, and found it almost befitting. Itaewon was a place where you could find anything and anyone, where the two opposite ends of society could be found in the same room, mingling. It was a place of enjoyment, of indulgence, but also of danger.

“Well then, nothing we can do but keep looking. Seojun’s been brought in already, by the way,” Doyoung reminds, and you grit your teeth.

Today will be another long day.

You make a beeline for the pantry, filling up a glass of water and popping a Panadol before anyone can notice.

Out of the blue, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the office, before a man rounds the corner, a police officer behind him.

Yang Seojun is here.

“Speak of the devil,” Haechan mutters under his breath as he observes Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend and the prime suspect in your case. At first glance, he looks unassuming, with a white blouse tucked neatly into khaki shorts and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses framing his face. Even though his shoes look a little scuffed, he looks normal. Typical.

Nothing like a man who murdered a woman in cold blood, but you’ve learnt from previous cases that most of the time, the more innocent the suspect looks, the viler their crimes.

“Yang Seojun, is it? I’m sure you’re aware of why you’re here,” you state when you’re finally in the interrogation room, Haechan next to you. Outside, Doyoung watches intently on the screen.

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.” There’s a wild look in his eyes, starkly different from the blank stare he had when he was first brought in. He’s reminiscent of a cornered animal, and it fills you with a strange sort of uneasiness.

“Relax, it’s not time for that yet. Where were you on the night of the murder?” Haechan questions, fingers drumming gently on the table. His face is illuminated by the glare of the laptop screen, reading glasses perched on his nose.

“At home.”

“Anyone who can provide an alibi?”

“I live alone.”

“You have two sexual harassment reports filed against you and one for disorderly behaviour, along with a report detailing your history with alchoholism. Is that correct?” Yang Seojun’s file feels heavy in your hands, but you’re familiar with it now after flipping through it incessantly.

He nods. “But I’m in rehabilitation now. And I haven’t…the report wasn’t proven. I didn’t harass Mijoo, I swear. I loved her. You have to believe me,” Seojun pleads, his hands on the table.

You swallow as you meet Seojun’s insistent gaze, averting your eyes from him. You’re not sure what to believe, which you suppose is the worst part of doing a job like this. The suspicion and doubt that it casts over everything, where you have to ignore your gut instinct because of the kind of people you deal with.

“Someone will come in later to verify your statement. You’ll be kept in custody for the next forty-eight hours. It would be a good idea to contact your lawyer, or any members of family.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. Or any other members of family,” he says lowly, and you suck in a breath, looking at Haechan, who seems as fatigued as you are. However, before either of you can respond, there’s a loud banging on the door, before it swings open.

“Jaemin, we’re right here. You don't have to break down the door,” Haechan chides. However, you’re unable to be amused at the joke, a concerned frown on your face. Jaemin is careful and gentle. He doesn’t bang on doors unnecessarily, or ever. However, he’s now frantic, eyes darting back and forth in a panic.

“Y/N. Haechan. There’s another body. They found it at the Han River. I don’t-” Haechan shoots up from the chair, immediately pushing Jaemin out of the room as he curses under his breath.

Seojun looks as taken aback at the news as you are, but you’re not willing to deny the possibility that he might be an excellent actor. You attempt to assess his response to no avail, and instead give up in favour of following after Jaemin. The piercing scrape of your chair against the floor causes you to cringe slightly, but you quickly recover.

“God damn it, Jaemin. The fucking suspect is in the room. You can’t just burst in and say that.”

Haechan’s tone is harsh, understandably so. However, any disagreements now will only make things even worse. Jaemin stands, looking admonished, and you place a gentle hand on Haechan’s arm to pull him back. Haechan’s eyes meet yours, and you remain silent, looking at him meaningfully. After what seems like a moment too long, Haechan steps back, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“Doyoung left to go down already. I-I’ll give you guys the address,” Jaemin forces out, getting a post-it and marker from his desk. His hands are trembling as he does so, the writing shaky and barely legible. Your heart pangs looking at him, but you know he’ll be fine eventually.

Now, you and Haechan have another body to inspect.

“Renjun, forensic pathologist. Good to meet you.” The man standing in front of you extends his arm out, and you smile tightly back as you shake his hand, grip firm. His features are delicate, pale white skin standing out sharply against his harshly cropped black hair. In his hand is a Ziploc bag, a few test tubes resting inside.

“I’ve completed the autopsy, and the likely cause of death is suffocation. However, the body has been in there for at least a week and putrefaction has set in extensively, so we can’t be entirely sure.”

Two weeks. That’s before even Mijoo’s death, and you can tell Haechan is thinking the same thing from his sharp exhale.

‘However, it seems like there are marks on the neck that have been made with a sharp weapon. They don’t seem like feeding marks from animals, which are on other parts of the body,” Renjun continues stoically, and you attempt to quell your nausea, which appeared the moment you saw the girl’s body, bloated and greenish-blue.

Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to nod, uttering a note of thanks to Renjun. Haechan follows after, patting Renjun on the back. His eyes had lit up with recognition at the sight of the forensic pathologist, and you realised they must have been colleagues at some point. Before Haechan came to your current workplace, he had a brief stint in pathology, while you had specialised in criminology. It was another reason why Doyoung had paired the both of you together. Combined, Haechan’s and your expertise made the perfect duo to assist him.

“On the bright side, the weather’s cold now. If it was summer, we might not even have a body anymore,” Haechan utters, and you rub your hands together reflexively. He’s trying to take your mind off the murder, but it’s quite difficult, considering this is literally what the both of you are paid to do.

“Seoul hasn’t seen a serial killer in twenty-five years. However, if these two cases are unlinked, that means we’ve got two murderers to find. Which just might be worse,” Doyoung replies, and you’re sure that the swirling worry in his orbs is reflected in yours.

“And we barely got anything from Seojun’s interrogation too. There isn’t any CCTV footage from where Mijoo was killed, and we haven’t been able to determine where the body from the river was dumped yet.”

“If the river freezes over, we’re fucking screwed,” you continue, now realizing that the situation is much direr than you expected. There are little leads, two dead bodies, and the time is quickly ticking away.

You’ll die before you let this become a cold case.

“Come on. We won’t be any more good standing here than back at the station.” Haechan tugs your arm in the direction of the car, and you follow him mindlessly. The trees around you are barren, the roads and buildings a shade of dusty grey. Winter is usually your favourite season, but all it does now is fill you with a sense of numbing coldness.

You’re flipping through the autopsy report when Haechan comes to your desk, two coffee mugs in hand. “Thanks,” you say as you take a large sip, feeling the warmth course through your body.

The newest victim is Park Sunhee, twenty-three years old. She was last seen on her university campus, attending a lecture on a Friday morning. And then no one heard of her whereabouts, and her friends assumed she had gone home to visit her family over the winter break.

Until her cold body washed up on the shore of the Han river, discovered by a horrified couple.

What’s the link between the both of them? Is there even one? Think, Y/N, think.

Haechan can see the invisible gears turning in your head, and he decides to leave you to it, going back to his desk. Despite the fact that both of you have this case on your hands, there’s still plenty of administrative work to clear. He takes the stack of unread files from where they sit untouched on your table, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realise

Until your personal phone rings, jolting you out of your reverie. You make sure the door closes behind you before you speak again.

“This is L/N Y/N. May I know who I am speaking to?”

”Hello.” The voice that comes out is a smooth timbre, almost pleasing to the ear. It’s obviously a man, and you furrow your eyebrows, not recognizing who it is.

“Apologies for disturbing you. This is Woo Eunhyuk. I tried calling the station and my call did not get through. Is now a good time?”

The businessman, you realize. And suspect number two. You immediately get out of your chair and exit the glass doors of the office, Haechan’s eyes following you. You’re known not to take personal calls during work hours, so why the change now? Still, he remains in his chair, unmoving.

“You can speak now,” you say.

“My secretary just informed me of what happened to Mijoo. I’m sorry for calling back so late. Quite unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Your first thought is that he doesn’t seem to find it very unfortunate at all, but you suppose everyone has a different way of coping with loss.  After all, you’re not even sure if he and Mijoo are as close as Xiaoting claims. For all you know, the poor man has nothing to do with any of this.

“Apologies for the inconvenience caused, Mr Woo, but we’ll need you to come down to the station as soon as you return. I hope you can understand.” You’re pacing across the hallway as you say it, and you’re not entirely sure why you feel slightly intimidated by the man on the phone.

“Of course. I’ll be there within the week. Y/N, was it? I’ll remember the name,” he mutters, and there’s almost a smug charm to the way he speaks. The way he says your name rubs you off the wrong way, and you find yourself shivering despite the lack of air-conditioning in the room.

“Senior Inspector Y/N. You may refer to me as that. If you need anything else, do call the station.” you say coldly, and hear what seems to be a muffled chuckle before you hang up. However, it’s cut off much too quickly for you to be sure.

“Hey, what was that?” Haechan asks, and you’re about to tell him, but you hesitate. He’d definitely worry if he knew that Woo Eunhyuk called you personally, and you don’t want to add more unnecessary burden to the case. After all, he’s already coming down to the station by this week.

“Nothing. Just a family friend asking something,” you respond, smiling slightly, and Haechan nods, turning back to his computer.

“Sorry for making you come in so late. Two days before New Year’s Eve, no less,” you say, attempting to plaster a polite smile on your face. Opposite you sits Woo Eunhyuk, in a tailored suit and hair gelled back neatly. The watch on his hand likely costs more than your yearly salary, but you ignore it.

“It’s my fault for being overseas and returning at the last minute. Honestly, if there hadn’t been so many delays at the airport, I would have saved you much more time.” His teeth are pearly-white and perfectly aligned as he smiles at you, and you can’t help but see the disparity between him and Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.

“I’ll keep this short then. I’ll need information about your relationship with Mijoo and your whereabouts on the day itself.”

“I met Mijoo one year ago. The bar is one I patronise often, and I bring my clients there. Mijoo was overseeing our tables quite a few times, and she was good at memorising preferences and striking up a conversation, so I tipped her extra to wait on my tables when I was there.”

“Did your relationship with her ever extend outside of the workplace?” Your question seems to make Eunhyuk pensive, and he shifts in his seat before nodding.

“We were romantically involved for a while, and I will admit we were quite close. Physically and emotionally. But she eventually broke it off because of work, and we maintained a professional relationship. We were good friends up until her death.” There’s a note of sorrow in his voice now, and Eunhyuk stares off blankly into space as he says it. Does he still love her? It sounds so different from the voice you heard on the phone, but you suppose the questions are forcing him to relive unwanted memories.

However, he clears his throat, snapping out of the temporary trance. A smile makes its way onto his face again, so rapidly that it confuses you.

“On the night she passed away, I was in my study. My house staff are usually sleeping at that time, so no one can verify it. However, I can send you the footage from the security cameras in my foyer and garage. Would that be sufficient to prove that I was home?” He asks, and you nod hesitantly.

When Eunhyuk leaves, you’re left with the thumb drive of his security footage, which you run through. He isn’t lying. Which you suppose leaves you with one obvious option. Still, you feel as if there’s something missing, tugging at your brain, but you can’t remember what. A confirmation of some sort, to verify your suspicions.

The file on Park Sunhee is painfully thin, but everything you need to know is there. She goes to Yonsei University and majors in architecture and works a part-time job at a cafe.

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, the image of Yang Seojun flashing into your mind.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wild-eyed and frantic.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wearing a Yonsei University jersey.

Your hands are trembling as you switch on your laptop, but you keep going until you find Seojun’s suspect report.

It feels inevitable, the few moments that hang in the balance before you scroll down to what you’re looking for.

Major: Architecture, 2nd year, reads the report, and despite everything, a slight smile makes its way onto your face. You immediately pick up your phone, and the ringing of the call tone is the only thing that you can hear.

“Doyoung. I figured it out.”

It all seems to happen too fast for you to process.

There’s a final interrogation with Seojun before he’s dragged off, the last reckoning for him to defend himself.

However, Seojun seems defeated, almost withdrawn. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s considerably thinner than the last time you saw him. However, he doesn't resist when the officers come, handcuffs ready.

“There are witnesses who verified seeing him with Sunhee last, and that they dated for about three months before a messy breakup. He was also at the Han River late at night a month before, which corresponds with the estimated time of Sunhee’s death,” was what you had said to Doyoung and Haechan the morning before. They had nodded, Doyoung patting you on the back gently in commendation. You had finally allowed a glimmer of pride to make its way onto your face.

It fits the bill almost too perfectly, like a poorly written plot for a television show. Yet, you’re sure of it like you’ve never been surer of anything else.

There’s a gentle peace that fills you as you watch Seojun leave, even as the way he holds your gaze unsettles you.

“It’s over,” Haechan mumbles, and your shoulders sag, but you feel light.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Happy New Year!” Jaemin exclaims, and you jump at the sound of the champagne bottle popping. You’re smiling, and it’s the most genuine smile you’ve had in the past two months.

The champagne goes down smoothly, leaving a trail of fizzy bubbles in its wake. Even Doyoung’s happier, mouth wide open in a toothy grin. Renjun’s here too, along with Chenle and Jisung, the evidence technicians. You’ve all worked together, and you’ve made it.

“Good job, everyone. To a new year,” Doyoung toasts, barely catching himself from stumbling. Everyone cheers, and you simply grin from where you’re sitting with Haechan. He meets your gaze, and tilts his head, refusing to tear his eyes away from you. For some reason, you feel your cheeks heating up, and you quickly avert your gaze.

You’re sure that if you looked at him now, he’d be smirking, the cocky bastard.

Solving the case has left you all too heady and excited, which is a bad condition to make decisions in. You’re tempted to be impulsive, now that there’s less to worry about. You shake your head in a futile attempt to clear it, and hastily get up, making a beeline for the hallway, away from the festivities.

“Y/N.” Haechan’s voice is distinctly clear in the silence of the hallway, and you turn to look at him from where you’re leaning against the wall, mug in hand, It’s quite funny, really, how Doyoung had forgotten to bring champagne glasses, forcing all of you to use the coffee cups instead.

“Donghyuck,” you reply, and Haechan pauses slightly. He supposes he’ll never really get used to you using his birth name, but he doesn’t particularly mind it. He leans against the wall with you, shoulder to shoulder, and the both of you stand like that for a while, in comfortable silence.

“Do you remember when we were in our third year of university? When we had that stupid argument over whether a criminal justice major or a forensic science major was more important?” You suddenly ask, and Haechan lets out a laugh.

“Of course I do. You didn’t talk to me for a week after that,” he teases, and you huff in exasperation.

“Well yeah, because you were annoying,” you whine, and Haechan simply rolls his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say. Why are you bringing it up now, though?” Haechan asks, gaze alight with curiosity. You remain quiet for a while, and Haechan’s about to repeat his question when you finally respond.

“I’m just thinking about what twenty-two-year-old Y/N and Donghyuck would say if they saw us now. I think they would be proud,” you murmur, and Haechan immediately grabs your hand, flashing a soft smile at you.

“Yeah. I think they would.”

“Y/N! Haechan! What are you guys doing out here? Come back in. Jisung brought cake,” Chenle shouts from where he’s standing, and your attention is immediately drawn to him.

“Come on, let’s go,” Haechan urges, tugging you along by your arm without a second thought.

“Wait. The phone’s ringing. I’ll get it,” you say once you enter the office. Everyone else is too caught up in rowdy conversation to hear it, and you attempt to balance the paper plate that Renjun handed to you, a slice of cake in the middle.

“Hello, this is Officer Kim from the Metropolitan Police Agency in Gangnam.”

“Yes, how may I help you?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to the rest, however, as you realise they’ve started counting down.

It happens in slow-motion, as most momentous things do.

Five. The words of the officer on the phone sink in, and you blink slowly.

Four. Your grip on the receiver loosens, and you feel it slip from your hands.

Three. The cake follows quickly after, landing in a mushy heap on the ground.

Two. The barely-audible, confused voice of Officer Kim rings out, asking if you can still hear him.

One. You sink to the ground, unmoving, not daring to breathe. No. This can’t be real.

It’s like there’s a muffle over your ears, as if you’re submerged in water, even as you’re vaguely aware that the other guys are cheering while watching the fireworks come up from the city centre. It feels like hours before the office suddenly falls silent, and they realise that you’re on the floor, champagne spilt, though it was likely less than a minute.

Haechan’s the first to enter your line of sight, his pink hair in your peripheral vision. His face comes into focus despite the blur of your surroundings.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s crouched down to your level, hands on your shoulders, eyes worried as he scans you for signs of injury.

Your mouth refuses to form words, even as you look up at him, eyes desperate. The only thing you can do is shake your head insistently.

As if that will change the situation.

Doyoung, observant as ever, is the first to pick up the receiver. Haechan watches as his expression turns stone-faced, and he hangs up.

The office is silent, everyone else looking at Doyoung, holding their breaths.

“What is it,” Haechan demands, his tone firm as he holds Doyoung’s gaze. There’s very little that shocks Doyoung, but Haechan thinks this might just be the first.

“Another body. Still fresh. Barely died an hour ago, in fact.” Everyone’s eyes are wide, not sure what to do with the news.

“No. No. It can’t be. We found Seojun. There’s proof.” Your words come out broken and clipped, as you shake your head frantically. You’re shaking, and Haechan, for once, is at a loss on what to do.

Renjun’s the first to regain control of the situation, telling Chenle and Jisung to get their things and pushing Doyoung in the direction of the office. Haechan looks at him expectantly, knowing that he should likely be getting ready to leave as well, but unwilling to leave your side.

Renjun immediately sees the torn expression on Haechan’s face, and he understands. You’re his friend too, after all.

“Bring Y/N home, Haechan. She’s probably gone through a shock. We only need you guys there tomorrow anyways, after we’ve done the autopsy.” Haechan looks at Renjun then, nodding before gently helping you up. It’s at times like these when he’s grateful for the older boy, who always seems to know what’s on his mind.

You’re quiet, eyes glassy even as you get into Haechan’s car and he drives in the direction of your apartment. His gaze darts to you every so often, and Haechan thinks he’d give anything to know what’s on your mind right now.

However, there’s nothing much he can do other than get you to down a cup of hot tea and aspirin, so that you’re not hungover tomorrow. You’re quick to sink into a fitful sleep, and Haechan decides to leave you to rest, reluctantly closing the bedroom door behind him. He takes a quick shower in the guest bathroom, and watches a show mindlessly on the television. He’s not enjoying it, but it helps his mind to blank, and that’s sufficient for now.

It’s so cold.

That’s the only thought in your head as you shiver violently. The cold is piercing to the bone, almost painful, and it’s so dark that you can’t see your own hands in front of you. You feel strangely weightless, as if there’s something holding you up. It’s almost comfortable, except for the fact that you’re beginning to feel numb from the chill.

Until you inhale, and instead of air entering your lungs, it’s water.

You’re drowning.

Your limbs move frantically, but you’re no longer weightless. You’re heavy. So very heavy, that even as you can see the surface above you, it seems so very far away.

Precious oxygen bubbles out of your mouth, and you can feel your lungs burning, struggling to keep you moving. Your eyes are burning from the water, and your limbs getting more sluggish.

Fear fills you, frigid and unrelenting, as you twist your head frantically.

You let out your first scream when you start sinking even further, the dim light of the moon draining away bit by bit, along with your strength.

No one can hear you, not even yourself.

You’re still screaming when you wake up.

“Jesus, Y/N. What happened?” Haechan’s voice is frantic, and he’s leaning over you. It takes a while for his features to become clear in the dimness of the room, and you blink slowly, taking in your surroundings. In another situation, you’d likely be flustered from how close his face is to yours. However, you’re still trembling uncontrollably, cold sweat beading on your forehead and neck.

Before you know it, you’re sitting up, Haechan’s arms around your body and your face nestled in his neck. He’s warm, and you find your heartbeat slowing down slightly from its breakneck pace. Haechan’s hands smooth over your back gently, and he offers you his presence wordlessly, waiting for you to speak.

“I had a…nightmare. That I was Park Sunhee, and I was the one drowning,” you mumble lowly, but you know Haechan can hear you.

You expect him to chide you, perhaps. You know you get too involved in the cases, and feel too much for the victims. A double-edged sword, you suppose. It’s not the best thing for someone who has such an occupation, but you can’t help it. Even as you try to tear your thoughts away from them, you can’t.

Mijoo. Sunhee. And the newest victim. You don’t even know her name yet, but she’ll probably haunt your nights as much as the two of them do.

“How long has this been going on?” Haechan’s tone is gentle, however, as he helps you upright to face him, eyes roaming over your face. His hand comes up to brush your cheek gently, to wipe a stray tear that you didn’t even know escaped.

“I’m not sure. A week after we found Mijoo, maybe?” Your voice is hoarse, and hearing the unfiltered fear in it fills Haechan with pain. That’s almost two whole months.

He realises that there was more to your newfound exhaustion in the office, the dark circles that appeared suddenly. Haechan had assumed it was just the normal toll of taking on such a large case, along with your tendency to stay up late. He hadn't questioned it, but now he desperately wishes he had sooner.

Maybe if he did, he could have done something. And you wouldn’t be here, tortured by repeated nightmares that had you waking up screaming.

He wonders how many nights you had to do this alone, waking up to stare into the darkness of your room.

“You’re safe here, Y/N.”

“I know.. It’s just-it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you for being here.” your voice trails off, and Haechan understands, even without you making it clear.

“Get some rest, alright? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he reminds, and a shaky smile makes its way onto your face, despite the fear that hasn’t entirely cleared from your heart.

Haechan stands up, but not before he makes sure you’re lying back down, pillow adjusted comfortably.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” Haechan makes his way to the door, and despite his reminder, you’re seized by a slight panic.

“Wait. Donghyuck,” you call out, and he turns back, eyes expectant. Almost as if he’s waiting for you to ask him something.

“Can you stay? Just for tonight. Please.” Your voice is honest, vulnerable, as you look at Haechan, his face half-lit by the light from your living room.

It feels like too many moments pass, your heart dangling on a precipice, before he nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. There’s a faint smile on his face as you move over and he climbs in next to you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, when the both of you are finally facing each other, his face barely inches from yours. His arm is loosely wrapped around your waist, and your head is curled into his chest. “Yeah,” you reply and it comes out muffled in the quiet of the room.

The regular sound of his heartbeat in your ear is oddly calming, and you finally feel your breathing ease up. Haechan’s warmth is the last thing you think of before you drift off, and it’s the first dreamless sleep you have in weeks.

The camera footage is played. Again, and again. Yet, there’s nothing besides the buzzing static and a screen that fades to an endless black. It doesn’t make any sense. Gangnam is one of the safest districts in the entire city, and there were police milling around at every corner.

In spite of that, thirty-five-year-old Song Chaeyeon was dead in an alley, head bashed into the wall. She was thirty-four the last time you met her in the club, a hardened woman who didn’t seem to want anything to do with the investigation.

And now, she was never going to turn any older.

“There has to be something we’re missing. Maybe Seojun has an accomplice-”

“Or it might just not be him.” Haechan cuts you off, and your footsteps skid to a halt from where you’re pacing.

It’s the truth that you don’t want to admit, but he’s always been straight to the point.

You scatter the photographs over the kitchen island of his apartment, arranging them in order. As if some sort of connection will fall from the sky if you stare at them hard enough. It’s been less than three days since Chaeyeon’s body was discovered, and less than forty-eight hours since you collapsed on the floor of the station.

“Y/N. You haven’t had any food all day. At least eat something before we continue.” There’s a pot of ramen balanced carefully in Haechan’s hands, but you ignore the smell that makes your mouth water. The moment your mind drifts back to the image of Chaeyeon and her neck at an unnatural angle, your appetite dissipates into thin air.

“I’m fine.” You shake your head resolutely, turning back to the photographs. Ironically enough, Criminal Minds is playing on the television in the background, as if mocking you. You try not to tug at your hair too hard, even as you fiddle with it out of frustration.

“You have to eat, you know that-”

“I have to solve this case, Donghyuck! If you don’t want to help, fine. Just don’t be in my way,” you burst out, and he falls dead silent, staring at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. You inhale sharply, rubbing at your eyes.

“You’re not responsible for their deaths, Y/N,” he says softly, a knowing gaze in his honey-brown eyes.

You hate Haechan a little in that moment. You hate the way he looks at you, understanding the fear and confusion swirling in your heart. Most of all, you hate that he’s right, that you’re not responsible for any of this. You wish you were, that you knew a way to stop it. But you’re helpless in the face of an invisible perpetrator.

The room suddenly feels a little too stuffy, your collared blouse tightening around your throat. You’re consumed with the need to clear your head, and your fingers scrabble for your bag. You turn impatient when you’re unable to find the familiar packet, tipping the entire pouch over.

Haechan watches your motions, half-confused and pensive, until he frowns, grabbing onto your wrist tightly.

“Y/N. I thought we talked about this.” His grip is stronger than yours, and forces the pills in your grasp to be held up high, even clear under the ceiling light. The accusing tone in his voice forces your gaze to tear away from him guiltily, and you shrink back.

“You know I only take them when it gets bad,” you explain, but Haechan remains unmovable, quickly plucking the packet from your grip and throwing them in the bin. “They’re painkillers, not magic. You can’t rely on them for everything.”

“Haechan, my stomach really fucking hurts-”

“Then eat. You need proper meals to get better, not some-” he lets out an agitated exhale, before continuing, “-chemicals that will only make you feel worse.”

It’s not that Haechan’s a disbeliever of modern medicine, but he knows you know that you’re not sick, not the kind that requires this sort of medicine. But the sharply bitter taste is oddly comforting, especially when you feel your abdomen cramp from a combination of nerves and stress.

You wouldn’t call yourself reliant on it - addiction is a dangerous line to tread, and you have no intention of ever crossing it, but it seems to appear more often whenever your work gets particularly difficult.

And it seems these past few months have been particularly bad, if the sleeping pill bottle on your nightdesk and the multiple chamomile tea packets are anything to go by.

Still, the warm concern in his eyes is enough for your shoulders to sink, relenting to his better intentions. You know that this is something Haechan won’t back down on, and it makes you feel a little better, the knowledge that even if you don’t have your best interests in mind, there’s someone who does.

You swallow thickly, finally meeting his eyes. “I know. I’m- I’m sorry I lashed out at you. That was unnecessary. And I’ll try to reduce the Panadol to zero,” you promise, hands falling to rest on the countertop. There’s guilt and fear swirling in your eyes, and Haechan’s heart breaks a little at the sight of it.

He cross the kitchen island and wordlessly wraps you in a hug towards him while you lean your head into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his musk soap. The both of you know each other well enough that there isn’t much of a need to exchange words.

You’re grateful for his presence, more than he’ll ever know. You’re not sure if you’ll ever find the words to thank him, sufficient sentences to string together to express your gratitude.

But for now, the both of you remain standing under his kitchen light, and you can’t help but think that it feels nice to have someone’s warmth against yours.

However, it seems that having Haechan by your side still isn’t quite enough, especially when you wake up in a cold sweat in the darkness of the room.

Your hand scrabbles across the bedsheet, frantic, before it finally lands on his warm palm, causing your breathing to slow a little.

You’ve made a habit of sleeping next to Haechan whenever one of you stays over, which is most days. It seems that it’s becoming harder and harder to pass the night alone, even if you’ve checked the lock twice and closed all the windows. You’re not sure if he minds, and you’re too afraid to ask.

“Y/N. Hey. Look at me,” Haechan’s voice cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, and you’re not sure when he helped you up to a sitting position. You’re still shaking slightly, his eyes drowsy but concerned as he looks at you.

It’s awful, the way this irrational fear digs its claws into you and refuses to let go. You’ve handled cases worse than this. And it makes you feel even more guilty that Haechan is the one left to handle the aftermath, to hold you together. You’re supposed to be his partner, not dead weight.

You close your eyes, as if to prevent you from confronting something you don’t want to. “It’s nothing, Hyuck. I’m sorry for waking you.” Your soft apology carries a note of burdened guilt in it, and it makes Haechan’s heart twist uncomfortably in his chest.

He wishes he can rub away the tears budding at the corners of your eyes, but he decides to settle for intertwining your fingers with his.

“Don’t apologise for this. Tell me if there’s anything I can do to make it better. Anything,” he promises, and the way he whispers it makes it feel like a confession.

There’s no one else in this room except the both of you, and what happens will stay within these walls.

Perhaps that’s what pushes you to lean forward and slot your lips over his in a moment of poor thinking.

For a fleeting moment, Haechan returns it with equal fervour before he seems to regain his senses, freezing in his cross-legged position on the bed before he pushes against your shoulders gently but insistently. You try not to let the hurt show on your face at his open rejection.

“Y/N- what-”

He’s definitely awake now, bewildered at your actions. At least he isn’t looking at you in disgust, which means the situation is less dire than it could have been. You swallow heavily, before refocusing on him.

“You said- I could tell you if there was anything you could do to make it better,” you stutter out, and Haechan nods slowly, as if unsure of what he’s agreeing to. His eyes dart down to your lips temporarily, and you wonder if it’s temptation that fills his gaze.

It definitely isn’t love, or maybe it is. You’re too scared to ask.

“Then let me have this. Please. I need a distraction, or something like it,” you plead.

You can’t bring yourself to care if he breaks your heart, if you have to swallow your feelings for him and let them wilt away. You’ll happily take whatever pieces of himself he’s willing to give, because how could you not?

You know this isn’t a normal request, that it’ll probably change the trajectory of your friendship with him permanently.

But Haechan and you are far from normal at this point. From the mix of fear and desire evident in his eyes, you guess that the man in front of you is thinking the same as well.

The waiting is almost painful, as you look at him with bated breath. Yet, it’s likely only a few moments before Haechan nods, clearing up the heavy feeling in your chest instantaneously and filling you with a longing so desperate that steals the air out of your lungs.

This time, when you lean in, he doesn’t pull away.

It takes one week of fruitless investigations before Doyoung finally snaps and decides to bring everyone out to unwind, promising that he’ll pay for a few rounds. Haechan can feel stress creeping at the back of his neck by the time the clock hits six, and he’s quite sure it’s not just because of the case.

He can’t stop thinking about kissing you. Well, kissed. He kissed you, and then the both of you never spoke about it after. He knows very well that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, fueled by a cocktail of exhaustion and fear that seemed like desire when sufficiently intoxicated. Pretending it never happened, however, still leaves a bitter taste in Haechan’s mouth, even if he knows that there are larger things at hand.

It might not have meant anything to you. But for Haechan, who has been harbouring feelings for you for close to three years, it means everything.

He had heard of you from his lecture deskmate, the criminal justice major who had aided in a major financial investigation at nineteen - to say you were a bit of a prodigy was an understatement.

When his Criminology professor had assigned the both of you together for a lecture, he had been brimming with excitement to finally see you in person.

But that admiration had only remained as friendship - until five hundred and twelve days ago, when the both of you had been sitting on the floor of your apartment, a long-opened bottle of wine between the both of you.

You had tried to kiss him then too. But Haechan had been sober, and he didn’t want you to do anything you might regret, even if there was disappointment in your eyes when he gently pushed you back by your shoulders.

He tried not to make it too obvious the next morning, when you had shuffled into the kitchen and made no mention of it.

And now, five hundred and twelve days later - he was still nowhere near getting rid of his feelings.

It had only gotten worse once you had pulled him close in the darkness of your bedroom, and Haechan supposes part of it is karma kicking him in the ass. No good person would take advantage of their friend’s vulnerable emotional state to get what they want, especially not when said friend was his best friend of half a decade.

But Haechan’s not a beacon of virtue, as much as he would like to be, and he can’t help but cave when it comes to you. If a distraction was what you needed, he would gladly provide it as many times as you needed, even if it meant his heart fractured a little each time you joked around with him nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just have his lips against yours a few nights ago.

“Here, take this.” Renjun appears at the right time, and passes Haechan a cocktail that’s an unnatural-looking shade of blue. “What’s this?” He can’t help but peer at it suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. It’s sour, the sharp taste of vodka immediately searing its way down his throat before quickly being soothed by an artificial lemon syrup .

“Blue lagoon. It’s Y/N’s favourite, so I thought I’d give it a try. Speaking of which, where is she?”

Haechan realises a bit too late that everyone is looking at him for an answer, and he shrugs helplessly. “How would I know?”

“Because you’re always attached to the hip with her. The last time she called in sick, we got an email from you before her doctor,” Chenle blurts out, causing Jaemin to nod in assent.

Haechan rubs a hand over his face tiredly. Truth be told, he is curious about why you haven’t contacted him at all today. “Just- don’t ask me about Y/N right now.” His curt response immediately captures the attention of the rest, Renjun’s eyes alight with curiosity.

“Did something happen?”

It takes one look at Haechan’s face for everyone to realise that something did happen. “Look, it wasn’t anything much. She had a bad dream, and then we kissed,” he confesses, and Chenle’s eyes widen slightly.

“Slow down. How do those two link?”

“She needed comforting. I was there,” Haechan explains, trying his darnedest to not lose his composure. Rehashing the events only makes him feel like he’s going through it again. “I always knew the both of you had something weird going on,” Jaemin mutters, emptying his cup. Renjun elbows him lightly, before focusing on Haechan. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He falls silent at that question, fingers drumming against the smooth marble of the bar counter. He doesn’t know, and that’s the worst part. Haechan doesn’t know if he should say fuck it and confess his feelings, potentially risking your rejection and making whatever the both of you have now awkward, or if he should remain silent.

“You should probably speak to her,” Renjun says, and that’s probably the only good piece of advice Haechan has received all day.

The only question is, where the hell are you?

Doyoung comes into the room then, but there’s no alcohol in his hand. Instead, his eyebrows are set deeply in worry, knuckles clenched white from how hard he’s holding the phone. Haechan has never seen his supervisor so unsettled before, and it makes fear swirl in his chest. He calls out Doyoung’s name, and the man’s head snaps sharply to the left, as if jerked out of a daydream.

The other guys have picked up on it by now, and Doyoung scans his eyes over the room before exhaling shakily. “It’s Y/N,” he forces out. “She hasn’t been home since yesterday, and her neighbour just filed a missing person report.” He shuts his eyes and lets out a groan of worry, and it’s evident that Doyoung’s thinking of the worst-case scenario.

It takes many long moments before Doyoung’s words land, but when they finally do, Haechan thinks he might puke. The alcohol now feels like a terrible idea as it threatens to escape, pushing uncomfortably at his stomach. Nausea is nothing compared to the dread that floods his veins, however, at the thought of you meeting harm, of being in a situation that you can’t get out of.

You’re one of the people he loves the most in the world, and Haechan’s not sure if you know that enough.

He knows that the room explodes into commotion around him, and that Renjun is letting out curse after curse, but it falls to deaf ears. Haechan grabs his jacket and rushes out before anyone can realise, but he’s quick to sink to his feet at the curb, anger and fear bleeding into his sunken shoulders.

There’s nowhere for him to go, because you’re gone.

You figure out that something is terribly, terribly wrong when the room you wake up in is unfamiliar. There’s a sharp pain that burns up your wrists when you attempt to move them, the rope chafing against sore skin. It’s nothing compared to the panic that overtakes you after assessing your surroundings, however.

The air around you is heavy with the stench of garbage, and you wrinkle your nose slightly.

There’s only a small rectangular window that lets light in, the glass cracked and dirty. Below your feet is a rough cement floor, and one door lies to your right.

It’s the only way in and out, and you don’t see any visible way to unlock it.

There’s a heavy thud from the outside right as you turn your head away, before the door swings open slowly.

The first face you see is unfamiliar. The second, however, fills you with an overwhelming nausea.

In front of you stands Woo Eunhyuk, looking entirely out of place in the dingy room with his carefully polished shoes and ivory-white blouse. Pristine, and nowhere near belonging in a place like this. But now you know what lies beneath that clean exterior, and it terrifies and disgusts you in equal measure.

“I should’ve figured it was you,” you say, voice dripping with venom as you glare at the culprit responsible for all of the deaths and your kidnapping. Eunhyuk, however, only smiles smugly as he peers down at you. “To be fair to you, Officer, I am quite talented at covering my tracks.”

He’s proud. Arrogant as he boasts about it, as if being a cold-hearted killer is something to be rewarded for. It fills you with disgust, but you try not to make it too plain on your face. You need to be careful, and buy time, at least until you have a chance of surviving.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

You suppose it’s not the wisest question to ask when you’re trying to distract Eunhyuk from that exact conclusion, but you feel a need to know why your body hasn’t ended up in an alley or face-down in the river yet.

“I wasn’t planning to until you started meddling too much. Digging into information you weren’t supposed to find,” he sneers. Eunhyuk’s confirming your suspicions of yesterday, the trail that you had just begun to follow. Considering he was the only other plausible suspect, you had done a deep dive into his records and found years of correspondence with Chaeyeon, some of which bordering into threats.

It took one visit down to the club to make your fears real, when Xiaoting finally divulged the truth.

“Xiaoting, I need you to tell me if Eunhyuk had any sort of conflict with Chaeyeon,” you plead insistently. There’s a stricken look on the red-haired girl’s face, and she’s evidently distraught. You refuse to let up, however, and it feels like a battle of wills takes place in her mind before she makes a decision.

“You can’t tell anyone this. Not until Woo Eunhyuk is behind bars. If not, none of us will be safe,” she whispers. You nod, a silent promise, even as fear climbs up your spine.

“He’s an important investor here. But lately, the rent’s been rising, and Chaeyeon can’t pay back his share. Especially after Mijoo’s death, fewer and fewer customers are coming. He’s been having quarrels with her regularly, and we’re not meant to overhear them, but Chaeyeon was worried that something might happen, so she got me to keep recordings of the conversations. And now look at her.”

“Is there any way you can send me the recordings?”

“Give me a few days. The police have been sorting through Chaeyeon’s stuff after she died, and I’m not sure where the thumb drives are,” Xiaoting promises, and you can tell the girl’s lip is raw from her biting it out of worry.

“If Eunhyuk really is the culprit behind all of this-” you hesitate, but there’s a look of steely determination behind her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll make him pay. Men like him, they think they can do what they want, because they have the money. But I’ve lost Mijoo and Chaeyeon. I don’t want to see another one of my friends left dead.” Her voice has a tinge of cruelty to it, but you understand all too well the pain that it hides.

You’re afraid that you might not be able to fulfil that promise after all, consider how you’re currently at Eunhyuk’s mercy as well.

“But don’t worry. I won’t kill you yet. I quite enjoy watching the people down at the station scrabble to try and find you. Especially your partner. He seems particularly distraught. What was his name again? Haechan?”

There’s a jolt of pain in your heart at the name, a worse feeling than that of your injuries.

Eunhyuk smirks at the obvious change in expression on your face.

“More than just partners, it seems. It’s a pity, you know. I thought you were a pretty one. I’ll decide what to do with you eventually.” You bite back a shudder when he caresses your face gently, watching as he leaves the room. A soft exhale escapes you when the door locks shut resolutely, even if that’s the escape route closed off to you.

But you refuse to give up just yet. Your brain is running a mile a minute as you think of possible ways that you can make it out, but every second that passes only makes you more hopeless. Both your feet and hands are bound to the chair that you’re on, tight enough to cut off circulation if you move too much.

You wonder what’s running through Haechan’s mind now, if the panic is getting to his head. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see him again, and you can’t bear the thought of letting him blame himself for your death.

As much as the man keeps everything maintained under a smooth veneer of confidence, you know your partner much too well, that he’s someone who picks up responsibility even if it isn’t his.

It’s funny how the thought of him brings a small semblance of comfort to you, even in a situation such as this.

And then something comes to you. A possible path out, a semblance of a fighting chance offered by no one but the man himself.

You wiggle your wrist slightly, even though it’s numb, and almost let out a sob of relief when you feel the cool metal against your skin.

Haechan had given you a bracelet for your birthday last year, engraved with your initials, along with many other things. You had made a habit of wearing it daily, but ornamentation wasn’t its only function.

“Haechan, I can take care of myself,” you assure, but the boy shuts you up with a determined look as he places the bracelet on your wrist.

“Better safe than sorry considering the line of work we’re in. If you’re ever in danger, just press this-” He presses down on the button to drive his point- “and I’ll immediately know where to find you. Okay?”

“Fine. But you have to wear one too. You’re not the only one who might need saving,” you retort, and he barks out a laugh, reaching into his hoodie. The smooth metal chain is pinched between his fingers.

“Already got mine. We’re matching now, I suppose.” His words bring a blush to your cheeks.

You’ve never been more grateful for his foresight in your life as you fiddle around, gritting your teeth in pain when the rope slides a little too harshly. There’s sweat dripping down the side of your forehead, but you ignore it. However, your fingers eventually find the bracelet on your other hand, and you exert just enough pressure to feel the mechanism unlock and let out a soft beep.

There’s a harsh exhale that escapes you once you’re done, and you sink back into the chair. Hope is a dangerous thing, you realise, but it’s the only emotion you can cling on to besides despair.

For now, you’ll wait, and place your trust in Haechan.

You hear the footsteps before they reach you.

There’s shouting, audible even through the walls. For a moment, your heart soars with hope.

And then the man who had accompanied Eunhyuk bursts in, and it comes crashing down. He cuts off the ropes binding you, but not before there’s a pair of handcuffs locked securely around your wrist. “Get the fuck up before I put a knife in you,” he rasps harshly, jerking you up by your arm and dragging you behind him. “You wouldn’t dare without your boss,” you retort, and he narrows his eyes at you.

The resulting blow to your stomach knocks the breath out of your windpipe, even as you’ve tensed yourself in preparation for it. “Watch yourself. He doesn’t mind damaged goods. You’re dead sooner or later anyways,” he seethes.

“Glad…to see that you’ve actually got strength behind those arms of yours,” you wheeze out painfully.

He closes his hand in a fist again, and you prepare yourself for the inevitable. However, the footsteps are louder this time, and he thinks better of it, dragging you along with him.

You observe your surroundings as you pass the maze-like hallways into a larger room, one that looks like a garage. The walls are cracked and peeling, and you’re guessing this is an abandoned building of sorts.

Suddenly, the grip on your arms loosens slightly, and you notice Eunhyuk standing in front of you. He walks over, grabbing your chin roughly and leaning down until the both of you are eye level.

“How the fuck did your little friends find you?” He’s seething as he glares at you, but you smile, baring your teeth through the pain and the bruise that’s likely forming on your abdomen. “You should have just killed me when you had the chance.”

He smirks slightly at that. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Woo Eunhyuk, hands up, or I’ll put this bullet through your skull. Don’t test me.”

The voice that you hear behind you makes you want to sink down in relief. It’s painfully familiar, the honeyed cadence of it something entirely unique to one person.

Haechan’s here.

He’s not the only one, as you turn to see Renjun next to him and a few other faces you don’t recognize. They’re fully attired, pistols in hand. His eyes can’t help but drift to you for a millisecond, hardening imperceptibly when he sees the dried blood on your forehead. Eunhyuk’s men hadn’t exactly been gentle when they ambushed you on the way home, and you only realised the ugly scratch on the side of your face much too late.

“Not so fast, Officer. You might want to be careful.” You’re dragged backwards before you know it, and the click of a loaded pistol against your temple makes your heart stop cold with fear.

Of course he has a gun. Laws don’t matter, not to a man like Eunhyuk, who believes that enough money will cover up any of his sordid deeds.

The impending possibility of death is very real now, and you try to put on a brave face, even as your feet tremble slightly. If not for yourself, at least for Renjun and Haechan.

“Killing me won’t do anything. You’re not getting away with this,” you bite out. You try not to think about the cold metal resting against your skin, and the trigger that is barely inches away from you.

“Let me go free, and I’ll give you back your precious colleague here. Otherwise, I’m blowing her brains out,” he threatens. From the way the rest don’t respond, you’re guessing Haechan’s the highest-ranking officer present, which means everyone’s waiting for his call.

It seems Eunhyuk grows impatient, however, and this time, you’re not prepared, letting out a guttural groan when he slams the gun into your right knee. Something definitely breaks then, and the crack that resounds in the space is almost worse than the pain itself.

Haechan begins to lower his gun.

“No!” you shout out, teeth gritted, and you’re met with a harsh slap to your head, one that leaves your ears ringing and the fresh coppery smell of blood filling your nose. “Shut up, bitch.”

Haechan looks at you, a conflicted expression in his eyes. He’s scared. The fear makes him look so much younger, reminiscent of the boy you met in university. His grip on the gun remains firm, however, and despite the pain flooding through your nerve endings, you let a glimmer of pride fill you at the person that Haechan’s become.

You shake your head insistently at his doubt, even as tears brim at the corner of your eyes. You’re terrified too, but you can’t let Eunhyuk go.

Not for Mijoo, Sunhee, or Chaeyeon.

If it means you’re going to die, then so be it.

There’s nothing that Renjun or Haechan can do, but there just might be an option for you. A risky one, but worth a try.

The last time you took self-defence lessons was before your graduation from the academy, and they were practised in a room with an instructor who did not have the intention to murder you, just to teach.

But the bravery that fills you upon accepting the hypothetical conclusion of death is liberating, and you find your brain rushing through possibilities now that you have nothing to lose.

I’m sorry, Donghyuck.

You close your eyes and suck in a sharp breath, as if it will prepare you for the worst, before you swing your head back and right into Eunhyuk’s nose. There’s a loud groan of pain from him, but you don’t give yourself time to wait before you turn and kick as high as you can.

There’s a loud gunshot, and you freeze for a moment. Perhaps this is it, and you’ve failed. The last few moments, before the bullet lands true and the pain comes.

And then the world restarts.

You’re jolted back when you hear the gun clatter loudly on the floor. By some pure stroke of luck, the bullet has missed you.

Eunhyuk stumbles back in pain, a hand over his bicep, and you quickly dawn upon the realization that it’s not his gun that has fired.

It was Haechan’s.

There’s blood rushing out, scarlet over his fingers, and it plays like a horrible montage, one that will stick in your worst nightmares.

One blink, and Eunhyuk sinks to the floor. A second blink, before there’s officers rushing over to pin him down to the floor

Another slow open-and-close of your eyes, and Haechan is in front of you. Everything is fading into black spots, and you’re quite sure the world is spinning around you. He remains in focus, however, and you try your best to muster a smile, even as the pain reaches a crescendo.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Everything’s fine now. Where else are you hurt?” He’s frantic now, facade slowly breaking and panic leaking into his voice as he inspects you for injuries.

You don’t get to thank Haechan for finding you before you collapse.

“Do you think we can convince him to go back?” Renjun asks, looking at the raven-haired man next to him. “Not likely. At most, he’ll hopefully get some sleep.”

The younger boy runs his hand through his hair tiredly, before turning down the hallway. “The doctor said everything’s alright. I’m worried too, but-”

“He loves her, Renjun. You’d do it for someone else too,” Doyoung chides, and Renjun knows he’s right.

Haechan hasn’t left your bedside for the past seventy-two hours, insisting on staying no matter what the others say. It’s barely enough for him that you thankfully don’t have a concussion, just skin injuries that will heal eventually. The exhaustion and adrenaline have just triggered a natural response by your body, and you’ll wake up when you’re ready.

Seeing you unresponsive on the hospital bed, however, is a sight similar to Haechan’s worst nightmares, almost identical the fears that keep him up at night. If he stays, he can make sure that the heart monitor maintains its stable beeping, and that you’re safe and sound in front of him.

His eyes are sinking closed, but Haechan resolutely keeps them open. The rest have returned back, the flowers from some of your acquaintances resting on the desk and adding some cheer to the dullness of the room. You would hate the hospital environment, Haechan thinks. It’s nothing like your house, cozy and full of little trinkets that you’ve collected over the years.

There’s one small comfort, at least, and it’s the vindication that Haechan gets at seeing Woo Eunhyuk dragged into the back of a police car. Renjun had to pull him back from beating the man up during the aftermath, the firm grip reminding Haechan that assault charges were still very much possible even when committed against a criminal.

But the murderous rage that fills Haechan at the thought of what Eunhyuk’s done to you feels all-consuming, and the only reason he hasn’t acted on it is that he knows you wouldn’t want him to. You’ve always been the calmer one to his irrational nature, tempering him before he gets too far.

Haechan needs you beside him to function, and it’s only been made all that much clearer by your absence.

He smooths his thumb over your palm, wondering if you'll feel it from whichever dreamscape you’re residing in.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N, but it’s over. We did it. Or you did it, really. We got the recordings from Xiaoting, and managed to dig up some other stuff. You’ll definitely want to see it in person. Which is why you’ve got to wake up. I need my partner here, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh at his own statement, but it remains unanswered in the silence of the room.

Until your hand jerks slightly, and Haechan doesn’t dare to breathe as his gaze remains fixed on you.

He waits with bated breath, watching as your eyelids flit gently.

It’s too bright.

That’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes to another unfamiliar room. For a moment, you’re seized painfully with fear again, thinking that you’re back where you started, in that dark, dirty room.

Until the sharp tang of antiseptic floods your nose, and you feel a warm palm over yours. Instead of the chair prodding into your back, there’s a soft bed. And instead of Eunhyuk’s face, there’s Haechan hovering gently over you, eyes alight with concern and relief.

“You’re awake,” he sighs out, and you reflexively try to sit up. There's a dull ache all over your body, but it's nothing you can't handle.

“How long have I been out?” You ask, throat dry from lack of use.

“Close to three days,” Haechan  replies instantly, an unreadable look on his face as he adjusts the pillow behind your back carefully. You take a careful sip of the water handed to you, observing him from behind the rim of the cup.

There are dark circles evident under the corners of his eyes, and light stubble on his chin. Despite the obvious lack of rest, he still looks as beautiful as ever, the sight of him sending a jolt of affection to your heart.

A heavy silence rests in the room, symbolic of so many things left unsaid between the both of you. It beseeches you to say something, anything to dispel the tension looming over you and Haechan.

“Hyuck, I-”

“Y/N-”

You giggle slightly at the surprised look on Haechan’s face. “You first, then.”

He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. But when Haechan lifts his head back up to look at you, there’s a certain quiet determination that rests in his gaze. You hold back a shiver at its insistence, as if he can see right through you like glass.

“When you were gone-” he starts, “I did a lot of thinking.”

“That’s new,” you say, and he rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips despite the sombre atmosphere. “I’m serious, Y/N. Those were the worst two days of my life, and I never want that to happen to you. I couldn’t stop thinking that if I’d been more careful-” Haechan sucks in a breath as if he’s in physical pain, and you instinctively reach out to hold him close to you, to soothe his hurt the only way you know how.

You hold his face between your hands, staring directly into his worried eyes and hoping that your words will get through. “Listen to me, Donghyuck. None of this was your fault.”

The furrow in his brows doesn’t leave, but the dark clouds in his expression clear just barely.

“The bracelet you gave me saved me. I’m never going to be able to thank you enough for that,” you continue, and he leans his cheek into your palm, as if thinking of a response. When he wraps his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand to the curve of his face, the fondness of the motion makes you smile.

“That wasn’t all I wanted to say. When you weren’t around, it was- difficult. Not just because I was worried, but because having you by my side makes everything easier. Better,” he admits, circling his thumb in gentle, soothing circles.

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you hold your breath, waiting. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, in sync with the wall clock that ticks away second by torturous second. The heady rush of anticipation fills you, and you feel as if you’re teetering on an invisible precipice, about to fall into oblivion.

“I love you. I wanted you to know that. It’s just- I realised I could lose you any time, and that’s worse than being rejected,” he says slowly, watching for your reaction.

There’s no surprise, no great revelation at his words. Instead, they settle into you like stones in a lake, barely making a splash. You’ve always known Haechan’s loved you, even if the idea of going further beyond friendship filled you with anxiety.

You’ve just been too scared to admit the truth.

To admit that you want him to hold you outside of when you have nightmares, that returning to either of your homes together makes warmth flood your chest. You’re someone who’s terrified of your dreams, but having him to wake up to makes the darkness a little easier to endure.

“I lied. When I said I just wanted a distraction.” Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to continue. “I wanted you. I’m too much of a coward to admit it, but I do,” you breathe out shakily, feeling as the grip he has around your wrist tightens.

The doubt in Haechan’s features clears up at your words, replaced with genuine happiness. It’s a pretty expression on him, one of your favourites, and something that you’ll do anything to keep.

This time, he’s the one to pull you in, hand guiding the upward tilt of your chin. Your lips are chapped and so are his, but you don’t find yourself minding, not when Haechan is so warm and real and solid in front of you. And he’s yours.

When you finally break away from him for air, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but also love. So much of it that it leaves you breathless, weak to his ministrations. He smirks slightly at the dazed expression on your face.

“You know, for two of the best criminal investigators in Korea, we’re quite bad at figuring out each other’s feelings,” he points out.

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“As much as that was an interesting case, I hope we never have something like it again.”

“Agreed.” Jaemin lifts up his glass at Doyoung’s statement, downing all the champagne in one go. Renjun looks at him with distaste. “You’re going to get drunk,” he chides.

“I think we all deserve to celebrate,” Jaemin retorts. “To Woo Eunhyuk. May the fucker rot in jail,” the blonde-haired boy proclaims, and even Renjun takes a sip of alcohol at that.

The five of you had left the courtroom four hours ago, fresh from the sight of Woo Eunhyuk being found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment with no parole. Not even his deep pockets could find a lawyer good enough to lighten his sentence. You don’t think you’ll forget the look he flashed you as he was dragged out of the courtroom, one that spelt pure hatred. But you’ve done what you’ve needed to do, and served justice.

“To Y/N and Haechan, my favourite couple, who needed a psychotic serial killer’s help to recognise their feelings.” Chenle’s voice rings out clearly in the room, drawing out a dry chuckle from the man next to you.

Your boyfriend and co-investigator rests his hand gently on your shoulder, before scoffing at the comment. “Careful, Zhong, or you’ll be the next one on my hitlist.”

You click your tongue at him. “Play nice.” Haechan looks at you incredulously, as if asking if you genuinely think he’s the one at fault. You only smile comfortingly at him before turning back to your conversation with Jisung.

You try to bite back a laugh when you hear him scoff lowly. Haechan may be smart and one. of the most mature people you know, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Give me a second, Jisung,” you request, and the younger boy nods, waving you off.

You tiptoe to tap your fingers on Haechan’s shoulder, the leather of his jacket smooth against your fingers. “Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Are you seriously going to sulk because of this?” you ask.

There’s absolute silence.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” Still nothing.

You sigh in exasperation before an idea comes to you. “Turn around, Hyuck. I have a surprise for you.” To your astonishment, the ploy somehow works.

The last thing Haechan is expecting is for you to grab his jacket collar in your fist and yank him down, before planting your lips firmly on his. It makes his mind blank for a moment, and Haechan reciprocates, before remembering that he’s technically supposed to be angry at you.

When he leans away, however, he’s trying his best to fight the blush that creeps across his cheeks.

“Still angry?” you ask, and he shakes his head. You smile victoriously, but it quickly fades away when he winds an arm around your waist and kisses you again, this time with a dizzying amount of passion.

You’re beginning to get lightheaded when the both of you finally separate, and Haechan has a smug smile on his face. He wipes the smudged lipstick away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, and you barely register it.

“There. Now I’m happy.”

[nctstar]

one, two...

“Oh, so she’s like that with all men. I see.”

“No, no,” you whispered. “Only you, only…you three.”

pairing: dojaejung x fem!reader 

other members: none

word count: 3k 

genre: smut

warnings: this is purely a graphic smut so minors please dni!! foursome, everything is consensual (verbal + use of the traffic light system throughout), dom!dojaejung, sub!reader, sir kink, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), rough sex (+ reader is manhandled a LOT), degradation (liberal use of the words slut & whore), praise kink, multiple orgasms, fingering (everywhere), oral (female and male receiving), breast play, (sort of size kink idk they all have big bananas), penetration, use of vibrator, kissing, spitting in mouth (sorry), anal, double + triple penetration, lots of cum, profanity

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: some people tell me that I need therapy after reading the smut I write and I think they're onto something

The thin fabric of your dress clung onto your skin, droplets of pool water sliding off the seams and dripping onto the floor. You watched the carpet darken with every drop. Drip, drip, drip… Your gaze didn’t leave the floor once, despite feeling eyes boring holes into your skull, the tension thickening with every passing second. Goosebumps prickled across your skin, but you felt hot, your face flushed and your heart pounding, feeling restless on your feet.

“Are you just gonna keep staring at the floor?”

Before you, Doyoung was sprawled out on the couch. Donning the shiniest pair of black pants elongating his legs, his shirt hung off his body, casting shadows across his ribs. The remnants of the long past music show was evident in his done-up hair, straight black tendrils shrouding his forehead and dark lined eyes piercing through the strands like a dragon. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, and you felt like you were melting like putty under his intense gaze.

This wasn’t the energy you had carried hours ago backstage when you were moaning in his ear, running your hands across his torso shamelessly while you got carried away with your words…

“Come here.”

He patted his right knee. You walked over, swallowing a shudder as you felt wind prickle at your wet skin. You perched yourself on his leg, more and more aware of just how flimsy your dress was. He pulled you in closer from the waist, his other hand bringing your face closer to his. Yet, he stopped short of the kiss. “Are you cold?”

“No.” You had no idea why you lied. In reality, you were fighting the urge to shiver, your nipples being pricked everytime your dress slipped across your chest. In fact, as you shifted in his lap, you brought one hand to fix the strap of your dress, now threatening to expose your entire torso.

Doyoung’s hand grabbed at your wrist. “Don’t. You came here to be a whore, right? So act like it.”

“Doyoung-ah,” you whined, the word whore making you slide into a different headspace. You felt his hands dip between the plush of your thighs, making you squeeze your eyes shut in response. Every time he touched you, it was gentle but immediately passionate and relentless. And every time he closed in on you, he felt familiar and unique at the same time, jolting your body awake with something different blooming every time.

“You guys are here already.” The statement hung in the air with a hint of finality. You pulled away from Doyoung and were met with Jungwoo’s unmistakably toned body. The beige shirt from before was now hanging off his arms, letting rays of moonlight dance across the skin of his chest and stomach. His eyes met yours, his expression serious and unmoving.

Not at all the way he was an hour ago when his mouth was tangled with yours, the bottle of wine you’d had mixing dangerously with the sweet smell of his perfume and the dim lights, making you dizzy and him more and more eager.

“Jungwoo, uh…hi.”

He stepped closer to the arm of the couch and dramatically rested one knee up on the edge in an almost comical display of dominance. Yet, it made something in you switch, and you felt your body aching to be in that bar again, tasting him in the corner of the room.

“Tell us again what you told me backstage,” Doyoung broke the silence, his icy fingers now bringing your face back towards him. “You know, back when you were rutting against me like a bitch in heat.”

Damn, that was harsh.

“Oh, so she’s like that with all men. I see.”

“No, no,” you whispered. “Only you, only…you three.” The word three quietly slipped off your tongue and trailed off like it was a long-held secret, something that you would have taken to your grave if you weren’t in your current predicament.

Memories ran through your mind, of yourself. Mere days ago. Your head in between Jaehyun’s spread legs, scalp tingling from his random pulls on your ponytail, the bony part of your knees feeling sore on the cold tiles as the beat of the song beyond the door thumped on.

“Right, right.” You watched Jungwoo’s demeanour crack as he smirked, looking at you teasingly.

At first you hadn’t noticed Jaehyun leaning on the doorframe, lurking in the shadows like an outsider. But as he took a few steps forward, the darkness began to leave his slender frame, and he was standing in front of you and Doyoung in no time. Your eyes began to scan the outlines of his waist, and the way his jean shorts hung on for dear life. Despite how much you had fooled around with all three of them the past couple of months, not once did you think you’d be here, dripping onto the carpet on the lap of one man while two others watched you with hungry eyes.

“Staring at his cock, are you?” Your eyes widened at the filth of Doyoung’s words, him usually striking you as a missionary-reserved kind of guy. But you looked away immediately, mortified, and he only chuckled.

He pushed you onto your back then, letting your head rest on the armrest of the couch and the small of your back on his legs. You felt breathless as he manhandled you around, your dress slipping and sliding around to expose you in obscene ways.

“Open up.” You met Jungwoo’s face upside down. You were no stranger to his casual dominance that molded you into submission every time, but today you hesitated slightly, having never taken him in your mouth before. Let alone like this.

Almost like he read your mind, he immediately added, “It’s okay.You can do it, baby. I’ll help.”

“So nice, isn’t he?” Jaehyun finally spoke, and you looked down to see him on his knees, towering over your bottom half. Doyoung had lifted the ends of your dress to your stomach, exposing your pussy now dripping onto his lap like some sort of cheap porno. You whimpered as Jaehyun ran his fingers over your folds, holding your breath in anticipation. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“Oh, Jae.” You sucked in a sharp breath as his mouth landed on your pussy, making you pull away involuntarily. You felt a sharp sting on the inside of your thighs. “Mmm, sorry. Please, please fuck me. I need it so bad, fuck.” You drawled out your words as he ate you out with the vigour of a young bachelor, Doyoung keeping one of your thighs anchored down.

“You hear that, Doyoung? So pathetic. Any common whore could have come up with that.”

“A-ah,” you moaned as his fingers entered you, the rush of sensation making you feel scatterbrained. “No, wait, I didn’t, ah…I meant…”

“We’ll give her another chance later.” Jungwoo hooked under your chin and bent your neck up, letting you open your mouth and engulf his girth. Your hands fisted tight as you choked, drool running down your chin and onto your collarbones. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be used as he pleased. “Good girl.” he groaned, and Jaehyun began to pump his fingers inside you at a steady pace.

Your cries and moans were getting lost around Jungwoo’s length, his hips now pistoning in and out of your mouth, and you felt Doyoung play with your nipples, making you jerk on his lap. You felt an impending orgasm build up inside you, your whines getting stronger as you pushed Jungwoo off to release your mouth. “Gonna cum!”

“Who said you could?” Jaehyun’s pace remained unchanged, and you shut your eyes, your brain turning into mush as ripples of pleasure took over your senses.

A sharp pull on your hair brought you back to reality with a yelp. “Answer him, baby.”

“Ah, s-sir.” Your eyes glazed over, making Jungwoo’s figure look less and less definite. His grip didn’t falter, but he let out a gentle sigh. “Do as he says, or you’ll regret it.”

“I can’t…I can’t hold it in,” your voice shook, your muscles stiff as your body was pinned down. “Please, ah, let me cum, ah, ah…shit!”

“Go ahead, princess.” You came with a cry, soaking Jaehyun’s fingers in the process. Your head felt floaty, and you faintly registered being shifted around until your legs were pressed up against your chest and you felt a hard bulb press against your hole.

“Nghhh…” With little energy left, you were painting the air with incoherent sounds. Doyoung pressed his lips against yours, his hands slipping on your thighs. “You gonna be a good whore for me?”

“Y-ye…yeah.” You sucked in a breath through your teeth as his wide girth filled you to the brim, your walls stretched thin. “So big.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, before slamming into you, knocking the air out of you in the process. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out at first, your body almost feeling helpless to the sudden intrusion.

“Does it hurt, baby?” You felt someone stroke the hair on your face, and you shook your head. Jaehyun patted your cheek harder, as if to snap you out of your haze. “Don’t lie. Use your words.”

“No, no, feels…feels good.” Your voice wavered with every stroke, and you looked up to meet his eyes, filled with lust. Standing beside Jungwoo, both watching you get ruined making you surprisingly wetter. You threw your head back, feeling Doyoung rack your body with his strong thrusts. You closed your eyes in response, but a slap on the side of your face made your eyes fly open again. “Look at me while you’re getting ravished like this, baby. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

“Ah, yes, s-sir!” Doyoung’s face was now in front of yours, his thrusts getting sloppier and more desperate as he went along. “You like being watched, too? You keep watching them and squeezing around me, you filthy girl.” You only moaned in response, your eyes rolling on the back of your head, all logical thoughts spilling out of your mind as his release poured out of you, hole left gaping as he pulled out.

You felt like you blinked and Doyoung was just gone, replaced by Jaehyun. Before you could register anything, you felt his cock slap against your dripping hole, making you yelp and shut your knees together. “Ah, wait, wait…” Your chest was heaving, the bottom of your dress now slick with sweat and release.

“Colour?” You felt Jungwoo’s whisper on the side of your head, Jaehyun’s heavy gaze on you, and you didn’t hesitate with your answer. “Green.”

“Fuck, you’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Doyoung’s words and Jaehyun’s hands prying your knees apart made your stomach churn with anticipation. You felt another tug on your hair, gentle this time, and you looked up to meet Jungwoo, his face now closer to yours. “Tongue out for me.” You whimpered as he engulfed your open mouth into his, the kiss sloppy and wet. He pulled away, one hand now shoved under your dress and playing with your tits, another stroking your face, driving you crazy with his simultaneous gentle and rough handling. Without warning, you felt something hard and almost plastic rest on the top of your pussy, and you immediately felt Jungwoo block you from looking down. “No. Keep looking up.”

As soon as you felt the vibrations start on your already spent core, you squealed and began to writhe away. Much to you dismay, you were being held down mercilessly. “Oh my god, oh my god, it’s already too much…”

“I don’t care. Pay attention up here. You think you can get away with not making me cum?”

“Fuck, fuck…”

“On your knees, _. I don’t have all day.”

You supported yourself up, wobbling the entire way, your entire body feeling the effects of this vibrator that was sucking the life out of you today in mere seconds…or minutes, you no longer could tell. Feeling the cold edges of the Jaehyun’s rings against your bare thighs, you realised he was probably the one rolling the end of the toy on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. “Good fucking slut. She’s good, isn’t she?”

You whimpered, feeling the vibrations ebb away, almost missing the way it was letting you build up to your climax. “Yes, sir…”

You heard Doyoung’s laugh next to you, making you feel both embarrassed and hornier than ever. “Gosh, she’s so out of it already.”

You looked up to be met with Jungwoo’s length, your hair shrouding your face as you stared thoughtlessly. Jaehyun breathed into your ear, “Need some help with that, baby?”

You nodded, all self-respect leaving your body at this point. “Let’s make a deal then,” he continued. “If I help you suck his cock, you let me fuck you from behind.” You inhaled sharply, the vibrations now slowly building up again. “Or we use the toy. What do you want?” You knew he was being gracious by asking, but his tone was mocking, almost scathing.

“Your cock…a-ah…please. Want to be stretched out and…fu-fucked, please. In all my h- ah, oh my god,” Your thighs shook, the last of your inhibitions leaving you as you felt a hot combination of your and the mens’ release leak down your inner thighs, naked and needy in front of all three.

“What was that, hmm?” Doyoung placed a hand on the small of your back, tipping you towards the vibrator, making you pant louder and louder.

“Nghh…fuck, please fuck me, in, all my holes, oh my-” you were cut off by the vibrator leaving your clit, the sudden loss making you want to fight back tears.

The steady silence that followed made you realise then the gravity of your words.  

“Mmm, we better give her what she wants then.” Jungwoo stated as a matter of fact, but you sensed a sudden arousal rise up within him, and your stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. “Here I was thinking you’d be satisfied getting fucked two at a time.”

You yelped as you felt something cold on your rim, and you heard Doyoung shush you immediately. “It’s alright, baby, it’s just lube. You okay with this?” You bit your lip, trying to hold in your moans already. “I-I think I can.” Your voice was tiny and shaky, and Jungwoo tipped the bottom of your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. “What’s your colour? Be honest, it’s okay.” You felt Jaehyun hum in agreement, patting your thigh comfortingly.

“Yes, yes I want this. Green. God, I need to cum so bad.”

Jungwoo’s fingers changed you squeeze roughly around your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. Bending over, he spat inside, making you shut your eyes and whine. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Ah, you, you…all of…y-you.”

“That’s a good girl. You look so pretty like this. Just waiting for cock.” You hummed in pleasure, feeling fingers enter and begin to stretch you out. Gasping and moaning, you let Jungwoo guide you to his length, Jaehyun pulling the hair away from your face as promised in a tight, unforgiving grip. As you gagged, the two men swore and pushed you down deeper, Jaehyun holding your head in place while Jungwoo pushed his hips forward. You held back tears as you accommodated to his length. “That’s it.” The sounds of you choking replaced by a broken scream as you felt Jaehyun slip back inside your sopping hole. Shaking your head, the two men released you as you groaned incoherently, feeling your eyeballs slip to the back of your head. “Oh, haah…I think I’m gonna…c-cum.”

You kept your promise as Jaehyun thrusted inside a handful of times, the squelching sounds a testament to the juices that just kept flowing out of you. In the post-orgasmic haze, you felt Doyoung’s fingers stretch out your rim, the unfamiliar sensations feeling both uncomfortable and so good. “How’s that, babygirl?”

“So good,” You heard Doyoung groan. “How on Earth are you so wet…”

As if a trained response, you opened your mouth as Jungwoo tipped your face up, letting him enter your mouth again. “You suck me so good, baby. Gonna make me cum like a good cockslut, aren’t you?” You furiously nodded, the wet noises filling up the entire room as his cock slammed in and out of your mouth. “Keep going, keep going, baby, good girl.” You became aware of an otherworldly stretch and tears sprung to your eyes. You pulled off. “Ah, oh my god, I’m so…full…” the words fought to leave you between your open mouth gasps of air, your head turning to watch yourself be stretched to the brim. Jungwoo pulled your head back to his cock. “Thought you wanted this, being fucked by three…” You engulfed him whole, your desperate moans vibrating his entire length as you felt Jaehyun and Doyoung fuck you into the couch. Jungwoo threw his head back. “…fuck, three cocks. Fuck, just the sight you like this is gonna make me cum.” It wasn’t too soon after that Jungwoo came, his hot load escaping down your chin onto your chest as he pulled you off him. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You screamed as you came, your sensitive walls fluttering and struggling to take so much stimulation. You felt a few seconds of shushing as you whined and tried to clamber away, the men holding you down until you were well and truly stuffed with loads of cum, the feeling of it hot deep inside your abdomen.

You collapsed onto the couch when all of you were done, your vision now seeing stars. As you slipped into an exhausted slumber, you felt one hand stroke your hair, a gentle kiss placed on the top of your head. “Shhh, you did so well, baby. Go to sleep.”

[doiefy]

mad city // nct series

GENRE: sci fi, biopunk, dystopian, thriller PAIRINGS: features both x reader and mxm fics MEMBERS: johnny, doyoung, jaehyun, jungwoo, mark, possibly more to come!

note: if this series looks somewhat familiar, it's because it is! this is a massive rework of my old 'fight or flight' fic for doyoung, which I posted almost two years ago (pls don't read it, like 69% of it isn't canon anymore and I kinda hate it anyways). it's been a real struggle turning it into something I actually want to write for again (which involved changing the original plotline from x reader to dojae, for which I am VERY unapologetic, don't fucking touch me), but after a year or so of on-and-off planning, here it is. I can't guarantee that I’ll get these fics out super speedily, as I also want them to be very visual and will be spending a shit ton of time on graphics; but if you're interested in a tag list for any of these fics, let me know!

WHAT PEOPLE HAVE REFERRED TO AS THE SPLIT: the fracturing of life as it once was, the steady decline of the natural world, all perpetuating political tensions and rampant crime in two rival cities. 

To the north lies Iameh, an urban paradise of impressive art and culture, resulting from centuries of mining and exploitation—a pristine exterior built upon the hardship of their southern neighbours. In one of their forgotten limestone quarries lies Siacia: Iameh’s shadow, their forsaken history, but a thriving metropolis nonetheless. 

Siacia is all the blinding colours and deafening sound that Iameh is not, boasting citizens with supernatural powers and the most sinister advancements in biotech. From their empty mineshafts and grotesque lifeforms in the quarry lake arises Burner: the Siacians’ fuel, their weaponry, and their only chance against the genetic mutations that plagued them for generations.

But like all things that come out of the ground, Burner is exploited. It is quickly monopolized, used as a drug, turned into a bargaining chip by the Assembly, a loose organization of businessmen and mutants claiming to be Siacia’s ruling government. Those on the streets of the Quarry and its four cardinal faces know very well: what the Assembly demands from them must be given, lest they face their wrath. 

So the fissure spreads and opens wider between the two cities, between all people—only a matter of time before one finds themselves dangling off the edge. 

VOLUME 1: FIGHT OR FLIGHT

pairing: doyoung x jaehyun dark comedy with a side of angst, gay shenanigans and way too many dirty jokes.

KIM DOYOUNG HAS SPENT THE LAST THREE YEARS surviving the Quarry streets alone: hunting bounties for the Coffee Cow (a ruthless contract killing agency despite their name), making poor decisions at drinking establishments, and searching for his missing brother. 

It’s on one trip to the bar that he runs into Jay: a charming, well-mannered businessman from the East Lanes, with a dimpled smile and particular taste for aged whiskey. One occasion turns into two into multiple—the two seeing each other more frequently with slowly-changing intentions, until the truth comes out. Jay, Jung Jaehyun to his close colleagues, is one of the Assembly’s founding members. Which, unfortunately, means he might have something to do with Doyoung’s missing brother, and makes him one hell of an enticing target.

The resultant cat-and-mouse chase across the city is as frustrating as it is exhilarating. But in a shocking turn of events, it reveals a destructive force beyond the both of them, one that needs their immediate attention and collaboration—regardless of who they are to each other. 

anticipated release: summer/fall 2024

VOLUME 2: VIOLET CRAZY

pairing: kim jungwoo x f!reader, johnny seo x reader angst wrapped in drama, tumultuous relationships, a slow but sure descent into madness.

In the aftermath of Johnny Seo’s return, the city of Siacia is not as it once was. Tensions with Iameh are on a steady incline, Assembly politics remain a treacherous game, all while a new strain of Burner spreads through the streets like wildfire. You and Kim Jungwoo are most apathetic to the recent chaos—the two of you like two sides of the same coin, both endlessly spiteful, now embroiled in a feud of your own. For as long as you could remember, your relationship with Jungwoo was one purely of grudge and petty revenge. 

But when Johnny begins his reign of terror, perhaps the two of you are in no position to be idle bystanders. Tragedy strikes Jungwoo’s family, and he has a reluctant change of heart. On the other hand, you remain by Johnny’s side, simply watching his flames burn hotter and rise higher. Merely overnight, your long-standing rivalry with Jungwoo has turned into a struggle for the future of the undercity. The inevitable resurfacing of your past, your forgotten history with Jungwoo, and Johnny’s inexplicable grip on you—it won’t be long before it all reaches a boiling point in the crucible. 

And certainly not long before you’re forced to face the repercussions. 

anticipated release: summer 2025

VOLUME 3: RIDE OR DIE

pairing: mark lee x gn!reader from meet-cute to heated romance. ride or die. madly in love to the bittersweet end.

Breakfast tea with magazines and tabloids. Clay-stained aprons and paint-smeared jeans. Afternoon tea with so-and-so, then back to the kiln and canvases. Dinner party with your fellow curators, handling flawless plates and dainty dessert spoons and immaculate champagne glasses—rinse and repeat, again and again, the routine of an Iamehan artist and socialite. 

Quickly growing tired of all the glitter and glamour of topside, you take a trip back to your roots: the north faces of Siacia, where you can shed all the silk and cashmere in exchange for the nightlife you grew up with. Dancing wildly to rediscover yourself and inspire your art, that’s when you find your muse: Mark Lee, a VIP at the Obelisk Nightclub, blue-haired and bright-eyed, immersed in the stories you tell him. 

You could stay with him forever, seeking thrills and adventure until you reach the ends of the earth. And yet, there is still much more awaiting: the unpleasant and the unideal, and the thwarting of your course by the stars above. 

anticipated release: TBD

VOLUME 4: WHEN THE SUN SETS

pairing: johnny seo x gn!reader psychological horror turned body horror. toxic romance and a tragic end. (!!) mature content, including manipulative, toxic relationships and darker themes some readers may find disturbing.

Johnny Seo is a reasonable man. A patient man, certainly, never reckless, never cruel. Johnny is loving, the perfect lover. Devoted, and devoted wholeheartedly to you. 

In the days and months after the Assembly’s establishment, he keeps you with him at every turn of the road: arm around your waist, head in the crook of your neck, always whispering and promising you better days. A sovereign Siacia is coming, he says. She will be free from the clutches of your northern neighbours, free to do as she pleases. You believe him��until one night, when he comes home bloody and beat-up, furious and unrecognizable. 

Johnny Seo is a meticulous man. A calculated mastermind, certainly, never reckless until he’s perfectly sure, never cruel unless he has to be. Johnny is cunning, the perfect trickster. Obsessive, and obsessed with keeping your memory alive. Obsessed with keeping you with him, an eternal part of him.

anticipated release: TBD

[sexygrass]

Sweet But Psycho | J.Jh

"To the Devine, mischievous spark in you."

(Mood board for my next fic😌)

Coming soon👀

Pairing: cheater!jaehyun x fem!reader x cop!doyoung x bff! johnny

Genre: infidelity au/ psychopath au (is this even a thing?)

Warning: Smut/ Graphic Description of Violence/ Graphic description of murder/ drugging/ reader is lowkey a psycho (rest will be added when I publish the fic)

Word Count: /

Summery: You've always struggled with your mental stability, but you thought you'd finally found someone who could help you heal. Jaehyun was charming, handsome, thoughtful, and made you feel loved for the first time in a long time. You let your guard down and allowed yourself to fall in love with him, thinking that he was the one who could fix you.

But then you discovered his cheating. It shook you to your core and brought back all the hurt and betrayal you'd tried so hard to forget. Your paranoia and insecurities returned with a vengeance, and you found yourself retreating back into the darkness of your broken psyche.

Despite the overwhelming evidence of Jaehyun's betrayal, you couldn't bring yourself to leave him. You were afraid of being alone again, of facing the world without him at your side. But as the toxicity of your relationship worsened, you knew you had to act up.

Either leave him for the sake of your love or give him a piece of your deranged, twisted mind.

You were a sweet girlfriend, but god, you were sweet but a psycho

Note: inspired by this song

Tag list: /

[bulgasari-seo]

nct 127 as songs from walk - the 6th album

not this being my 127th post goodbye

[xplrstoner]

omgg persona & co09 fan hiii

could i please request a graphic of kim doyoung from nct if youd be comfortable w kpop idols for requests? tysm!!

(ur theme is rlly cool btw! i also love ur rentry)

THANK YOUUUU !! That actually reminded me I need to redo my linked rentries lol thank u 🖤

(Also LOOOOOVE class of 09, obsessed with it even)

Doyoung - nct

Really simple one , so lmk if u want a more complex one or divids + a dif colour … lol idk I freeballed it

F2U without credit, I truly don’t care but always appreciated

[prettythingsforyou]

v.2

[dearkyeom]

nct 127 is releasing a graphic novel titled "nct 127: limitless" slated for release late summer 2023! pre-orders for all the different editions (standard, deluxe, and member specific) are open on z2 comics with a number of different bundles to choose from.

summary taken from their website:

Presented in the manhwa (South Korean comic) format, Limitless follows NCT 127 in the midst of their world tour, as the group rehearses for its biggest performance in America to date: a sold-out stadium show in New York City. The night before the concert, however, the group encounters mysterious dreams, putting MARK, JOHNNY, TAEYONG, JUNGWOO, and DOYOUNG in otherworldly scenarios. This ultimately creates a reality-crossing mystery that the five—alongside TAEIL, YUTA, JAEHYUN, and HAECHAN—will unite to solve. As NCT 127 grapples with this enigma, they must overcome their fear in both the real world and this new, surreal dreamscape. 

a very dear friend of mine is one of the artists for this project! it would mean the absolute world to me if you boosted this to spread the news, hehe. <3

[najenvhs]

ABOUT ME ♡

n. eri

23 | she/her | Scorpio (nov 13th) | enfp-t

☆ ULTS: jeno & jaemin bias chenle, jisung, jaehyun, doyoung

only writes about nct dream

— likes: fall/spring, concerts, gossip girl, new york, Philly cheeses stake sandwiches, traveling, anime, cosplaying, journaling, graphic design, listening to music, y2k, fashion, talking about nct dream ♡

— dislikes: small bugs, any bug that flys, hamburgers, hypocrites, living in the south ㅠㅠ, college, overthinking, unwelcoming people, pretentious behavior, homophobia or transphobia, racism 

favorite song atm: on the way by nct dream

[nctstar]

Hello!

I saw that your requests are opened so can you write something cute with a smut about period sex with Doyoung or Jaehyun?

Your writing is really good, congrats!!

hello! this is so late and you probably forgot about this already lmao but here it is! hope you like it <3 and thanks so much! appreciate the support.

slip

“You’re so cute. A real man isn’t afraid of a bit of blood, baby.”

“Still, maybe we should-“

“Already thought of that, beautiful.” He stroked your hair before reaching somewhere behind you to show you a towel. “Lay it out in front of you, pretty. Can you do that?”

pairing: doyoung x fem!reader

other members: nil

word count: 2.7k

genre: smuuutttt with a touch of fluff throughout

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni! everything is consensual and implied that reader x doyoung has discussed boundaries and safewords prior to the scene taking place + discussion takes place throughout, talking about periods and cramps throughout (reader has painful cramps and these are described), period sex, hard & soft dom doyoung, use of restraints, oral (male receiving), crying during and after sex, sex pausing because of pain, reader is manhandled + held down, sir kink, degradation (use of slut, whore, brat), spanking, pussy slapping, begging, sexual punishment, reader slowly slips into subspace towards the end, intense orgasms, penetrative sex (unprotected - please be safe irl guys), use of good girl, fingering + clitoral stimulation, squirting, profanity (f word, s word once)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.

a/n: happy new year guys <3 YES IK I said I would finish the old requests by the end of the year but...it got crazier than I expected so...anyways here I am. new year same old me (but worse it seems). I thought the markhyuckno and dojaejung fic was the most graphic nasty thing I could write but...here we are :D

Your dutiful stares were enough to send him over the edge. Thick, glassy eyes rimmed with black and adorned by lashes as sensitive as butterfly wings, fluttering as you whimpered. “P-please.”

Doyoung stood so tall in front of you, you could barely make out the outlines of his face, ones you knew so well. His slacks smelled of laundry detergent, and you gulped as he used one hand to press your head to the front of his thigh, another unbuckling his belt. The scent elevated your senses, thighs squeezing around nothing in anticipation. Your arms and legs tied tightly behind you with silky black ribbons, just the way he liked it, you were forced to balance on your knees, your body seesawing as he prepared himself. A cramp hit you then, and you shut your eyes, breathing through your mouth, letting it pass.

“Keep your eyes open.” He sounded emotionless, careless, like he wasn’t even looking in your direction, but you nodded anyway, looking up at his face. Bits of light in the room was now illuminating parts of his chin, the sharp lines of his jaw and nose. The hand behind your head contracted, fingers digging into your scalp roughly. You gasped, parts of your scalp now throbbing as he pushed your open mouth onto him.

“Nghhh…” you gargled noisily, your eyes silently pleading at him to go easy on you. But he persisted, even as your hands curled into fists, fighting against the restraints as he used your mouth as he pleased. Tears and drool ran down your face and onto the grooves of your collarbone, and that was when the next cramp hit.

The pain was sudden and immobilising, like a lightning strike on the most sensitive parts of your body. Your whole body jerked, and Doyoung’s hand release from your scalp. You cried out, doubling over, and you felt soft skin all over your bare shoulders. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You began to cry softly, your stomach turning as embarrassment settled into your body. “Mmm, sorry, s-sir.”

“Shh, we’re not doing the scene right now, honey. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry…” You rubbed your face on his shoulder, feeling his fingers quickly work to release you from your restraints. Once you did, your hands wrapped around his body instinctively, knees separated so you could sit on his lap. He patted your hair and upper back gently as you cried in his lap, the remnants of the cramp ebbing away inside your stomach. Once your breath slowed, Doyoung pulled your face away from him, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. His thumb was gently circling the bare skin above the edges of your underwear. “Hey. This is for both of us to enjoy, right? If you’re in pain, we’re not doing it. And I’m not having fun either if you’re not, okay? Baby?” He kissed the top of your shoulder affectionately, and you felt your insides warm instantly, as if he had doused you in warm water. “Let’s get you relaxed and comfortable now, okay? What would you-“

“Doie, it’s fine. We can continue.”

“No, honey. It’s enough for today. There’s clearly something on your mind.” Your head snapped up to look at him, but there was no hint of frustration or anger lining his face. “It’s okay.” He rubbed up your arms, making you sigh inaudibly. “You don’t need to tell me right now, okay?”

“No, I…” You stopped, looking up and sighing, loudly this time. “I’ll tell you. I don’t know, I was just…embarrassed, I guess? But it’s not really a big deal, it’s just, well…something we haven’t really, um…” You were fumbling, playing with the bow on your bra as the anxiety rose up your body, threatening to silence you once again.

Doyoung’s plush lips pressed against yours, a clean, musky scent overtaking your senses. He squeezed your waist supportively as he pulled away.

You lashes fluttered as you spoke. “I’m on my period.”

Doyoung was silent for a second, maybe a second too long. Then, he sighed, resting back on his hands. “Oh, thank God.”

“What?”

“I thought you were gonna drop some huge bomb on me, like you had some weird fetish or something.”

“Doyoung!” You slapped his arm, making him laugh deeply. Your heart felt full as his face crinkled, your favourite feature on him being the way his entire face brightens when he smiles or laughs. You kissed his nose. “Thanks for not being weird about this.”

“Come on. Who would be weird about this? It’s such a normal thing.” Then, his face slowly dropped, darkened, and the worry started to creep again, tingling up the back of your neck. “Does it hurt? Is that why- oh.” He looked away, his hand slipping from your waist. “God, I’m such a jerk.”

“Wha- Doyoung, no. It’s not your fault, we agreed beforehand and, well, I thought the cramps would go away eventually! I mean, they usually do when I-“ You stopped, but Doyoung stared at you, willing you to continue. “What? What makes them stop?”

A blush crept up your cheeks, the exhilaration overtaking you as if you were 13 years old preparing to make your first sex joke rather than a grown woman who had just sucked her boyfriend’s cock for two minutes. “Um, well, you know. You know what they say about orgasms and cramps, right?”

Doyoung raised an eyebrow at you, before the realisation washed over his face. “Oh.”

You laughed awkwardly. “See, it’s so embarrassing, even if it’s not, technically. God, this is so weird. Let’s just finish here for today.” As you went to get off his lap, his hands pressed your hips down again, bare thighs slipping against his unbuttoned slacks. “I have a better idea.”

You looked into your eyes as your panty-clad core rubbed against the bulge of his cock in his boxers, making you shiver. “But if we do this…”

“Doie, are you sure?”

“Are you?” You nodded, almost too enthusiastically, which made him chuckle darkly. It was true that you were horny as fuck, despite the earth-shattering electric-shock level pain that was ravishing your body every now and then.

He grazed his lips on the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the tiny hairs on your neck. “Good girl.” He gripped your ass with both hands, making you moan almost instantaneously. “We’ll play by the same rules we decided before then, okay? Promise me you’ll use your safeword, and tell me if it’s too much, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.” You muttered a mh-hm, starting to get impatient and grind against him, but he stopped your movements in place. “Words, sweetie. This is important.”

“Y-yeah, Doie. Fuck, I w-want it – I need it, please, sir…” You bit your lip, grabbing his hands to push them away from your hips and let you grind against him. Doyoung let go, but he hooked his arm around your lower back, other hand spanking your clothed ass harder now. “Oh my God!” The sting took you by surprise, and as he stood up, his shoulder pressed against your stomach, giving you some relief from the dull ache that came every time you were on your period. “S-sir, where are we-“

The wind whooshed out of your lungs as he threw you onto your bed, the covers warm against your skin. As you caught your breath, Doyoung slammed himself over you, throwing both of your arms above your head recklessly. “So disrespectful, speaking out of turn like that.” You bit your lip in response.

As he rose above you, you yelped as you felt your world spin again. Lying on your front now, you tried to move onto all fours, but a hard whack to your backside stopped you in your place. You yelped, feeling him push you down onto the bed and spank you three times in a row. The third hit make you cry out. “S-sorry, sir!”

Leaning over you, trapping you in between his knees, you felt a sharp tug at your hair. Your neck bent backwards awkwardly as he pulled your face off the bed. “A-ah!”

“Naughty girl, hmm? And what happens to brats like you, baby? I want to hear you beg for it.” The way the word beg fell off his lips, like poison from a vial, made your legs shake in anticipation. The burn in your scalp was overwhelming, and you managed to make out, with shaky breaths, “Please, sir, please punish m-me.”

You yelped as he grabbed at the plush of your ass, fighting every urge to move. “Please, please, I need it, I need this.” He pulled the waistband of your black panties down to your upper thighs with one hand, landing hits as he let his other hand keep your face buried in the sheets. “Stupid whore. Grinding on me like my cock is all you can think about. Is that right, baby? Is my cock all that you’re good for, slut?” His words made you melt like butter, your heart racing as the arousal that was now collecting threatened to send you over the edge too early. “Ah- fuck! H-hurts…” Your voice croaked. Doyoung paused, but his hand still pressed you to the bed. Realising he was probably waiting for a verbal all-clear, you wriggled your ass teasingly. “Sir, please, I deserve it. I’m your brat, please, please punish-“

The next few hits took your breath away, and you wondered how all of this strength was coming from one arm. Your eyes watered as he travelled down your thighs before coming back to the curves of your bare ass, now probably red on impact. Your body began to fight the pain, your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself anchored to the bed. “Fuck, y-yes sir, I’m all yours, please, please, take me.” You babbled nonsensically as you felt yourself relinquish control, wetness now dribbling down your inner thighs.

When he stopped, you felt yourself breathe out, and in one go, Doyoung lifted you backwards so your back was pressed against his. The first thing you noticed was the pad that lined your underwear, now on full display. “Oh shit.” You scrambled to untangle your legs to throw it away, out of sight, making Doyoung laugh. “You’re so cute. A real man isn’t afraid of a bit of blood, baby.”

“Still, maybe we should-“

“Already thought of that, beautiful.” He stroked your hair before reaching somewhere behind you to show you a towel. “Lay it out in front of you, pretty. Can you do that?”

He was slipping in and out of the scene with so much ease. Tears sprung to your eyes for the third time that day as you unfolded the towel, leaning over to open it onto the bedsheets. “I love you.”

“Love you more.” He didn’t hesitate as he laid you down on your front, aligning you with the towel properly. “You ready, my love?”

Nodding furiously, you felt him push you down on your upper shoulders with a tantalising amount of strength. “Stupid brat is always ready for cock, right?” You moaned, loudly, making him groan and slap your soaked core. “Ah! Fuck, s-sir.” You felt his engorged bulb run through your folds, so slowly, teasing you with an agonisingly slow pace. “You need this to put you in your place, right?” Another slap, this time hitting your clit and making you cry out. “And where is your place, baby?”

As he landed another slap, you cried out. “U-under you, sir! I belong under you, stuffed with your coc-“ He thrusted inside without warning, making you arch your back almost involuntarily. Your brain catching up with the sensations now running rampant through your body, you began to cry, the tears flooding your vision as your body shook with the strength of his hips.

He mocked. “Cock so good you’re crying, is that it?” Doyoung slowed, signalling to you that he needed some sort of verbal encouragement to keep going when you were crying. He was always like this, no matter how many times you assured him you would use your safeword if it was too much. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, drool slipping out of your open mouth. “Fuck, please, wan’ cum, please.” You managed to make out these words as you climaxed, white hot pleasure running through your lower body.

Even as the overstimulation sunk into your body, you gripped onto the sheets, throwing yourself back onto him, not wanting him to stop. “Please! Please fill me up, make me, ah…” His sped-up thrusts and quietened demeanour could only mean one thing. As you felt his hot cum inside you, he muttered deeply, throaty moans and gasps escaping him. “Good fucking girl. That’s it, gonna stuff you full of me, isn’t that right?” You nodded dumbly, the pleasure overtaking all of your senses. You snuck one hand down your body, toying with your clit, as if your body had a mind of its own.

Doyoung slapped the hand away, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them to your back with one hand. “Filthy girl.” You whined, but a screamed ripped itself out of your throat as Doyoung pushed two fingers inside you, thumb pressing directly on your clit. “Fuck, wait, ah, too much…” You tried to wriggle away, and he pulled out momentarily to slap you hard on your ass, the sting on your already sore skin making you jerk off the bed. He released you from his grip. “Get up. Now.”

You were shaking, half confusion and arousal clouding your vision as you high-kneeled on the bed. “Legs out and hands behind your back.” You complied, aware now that your core was exposed. One of his arms snaked around your shoulders, fingers dangerously close to your boobs. “So you can be a good girl.”

“Mmm, only for you.” You kissed the skin of his arm, the one in front of you, and gasped when he pressed his bare body close to you. “Not getting my cock again, slut. But you can come. Only when I say so. Understand?” His free hand gripped your chin, strong enough to leave bruises. “Y-yes, yes, sir!”

“Oh, and, these,” he slapped the thin skin of your inner thighs, left, then right, “aren’t moving.” You nodded relentlessly, the waiting driving you mad now. When he pushed two fingers knuckle-deep inside you, slow but firm, you gasped, engulfing the air as if it would help you ground yourself. “Fuck, I’m all yours, p-please!” His pace quickened, and it took everything in you to keep your thighs where they were. They shook almost painfully, and Doyoung stopped, pausing to spread your own fluids over your inner thighs. “I’m so close,” you cried softly, and Doyoung shushed you, pressing kisses on your shoulder. “Good girl, you kept still for me. You think you can soak the towel under us, baby? Hmm?” Your thighs pushed together at his words, but you snapped them apart again, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Sorry, sir! I’m sorry!” You felt yourself slipping slowly into subspace, kept afloat only by the arm that was wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

Doyoung cooed. “Obedient slut, aren’t you? It’s okay. We’ll keep going. You can come now.” You thanked him profusely as he rubbed firm circles on your clit. You gasped for air, random words flying out of your mouth without restraint. “Sir, feels so good, I- oh, I think I’m gon-, nggh, fuck, sir, it’s so much, please, please…” You came hard, seeing stars as you felt yourself let go completely. The feeling of the wet towel and your legs seemed to slowly bring you back to reality as you looked down, mortified. “Wait, did I…” your chest rose and fell. “Did I pee or something?”

Doyoung laughed delicately in your ear. “No, darling, you just squirted.” Your eyes widened as he pulled you closer. “You’re so pretty when you let go. We should do this more often.” You shook your head in disbelief. “Wow, I…didn’t think that was possible.”

“It’s gonna be hard to stay humble if you keep saying stuff like this, baby.” You laughed, anxieties lifting off your shoulders for a moment. You turned your head, moving your hair out of your face to kiss him deeply.

When you pulled away, he pecked you again on the forehead, cuddling you against his body. “So…you hungry?”

[darl-ingfics]

Hello!

Welcome! Happy to see you 😊

This side-blog had been a many-years-in-the-making sort of things for me; I've been a sickfic and hurt/comfort fan for years, yet everything I wrote was always just for my eyes only, or rarely/heavily edited when published. But the more I've begun to explore this genre, the idea of making this blog a reality became, well, a reality. And here we are.

What to Know About Me:

She/her

Born in '95

Literature nerd, avid dancer, and certified Disney adult

I've been a Kpop fan since 2018! I am currently an incredibly proud Carat, EXO-L, and Shawol. And I have a Dino photo card in the holder of my EXO light stick cause I still haven't pulled a photo card of Xiumin yet, and that Dino card is my current favorite 😂

Masterlist

Requests are: OPEN

Current Requests (to be fulfilled in any order, as the muse decides):

SVT - Mingyu, cold (CT: Hip Hop Unit)

ATEEZ - Honjoong, cold/snz (CT: Seonghwa)

SVT - 95’ Line, pneumonia

My Current Fics in the Works:

SVT - everyone. "what can go wrong, will go wrong"

SHINee - Onew, flu, ot4 caretaker (but also, there's a ton of SM cameos...). "We're in trouble." "What kind of trouble?" "The incident..."

ATEEZ - Hongjoong + ?, continuation of Sicktember Day 10

Groups I Stan and Will Write For: Seventeen (Joshua bias), EXO (Xiumin bias), SHINee (Onew bias), BTS (Jungkook bias)

Groups in my Stan Orbit: ATEEZ (Seonghwa bias) [I'm still learning member personalities and dynamics, but we are almost there!]

Groups I Enjoy Listening to, but Probably Won't Write For: Stray Kids (Han bias), Red Velvet (Seulgi bias), Mamamoo (Moonbyul bias), f(x) (Luna bias), Monsta X (Kihyun bias), NCT (Doyoung bias)

Groups I Casually Listen to: Girls Generation, Aespa, Blackpink, (G)I-dle, Got7

Chances are good I'll throw in some anime pieces too, cause I have A TON of those in the back logs. You will primarily see content for Haikyuu and Attack on Titan for those pieces.

What I Will Write: General illness; snz (to a degree, we’re figuring it out); hurt/comfort; some emeto

What I Won’t Write: allergy snz (not it for me, folks); graphic emeto; scat; major illness or character d/eath; non-con anything; NSFW sexy times; age regression

A Reminder: All writings published on this blog in any Kpop fandom are strictly based on my perceptions of the personas presented by the idols. These are real people, and absolutely nothing on here is a true representation of these artists as individuals. These fics are manifestations of my enjoyment of these artists in a medium that I find creatively rewarding, but the maintenance of the line between fiction and fact is a necessary part of these creations.

Feel free to pop in my asks anytime! Thanks for reading!

(Follows and Likes as pretty-eyes-jaeger)