#i put too much thought into this but this is how it would go

[darnell-la]

A little dark but how about Logan slipping the reader an aphrodisiac into their drink or something to make her have sex with him. And since he is their drive home, she becomes desperate and needy for a release from him despite not understanding what’s happening to her is she’s usually kinda innocent

note: no one will understand how much I need this.

———

“L-Logan, how long until we’re at the school?” Y/n asked as the throbbing between her legs ached more. She’s never been the type to get turned on. She usually has to build up to it, but tonight, she couldn’t help but squirm in her seat.

“Maybe a half an hour,” Logan lied, knowing they were just down the road. “Fuck,” Y/n said under her breath as she shifted in her seat, embarrassed about how much she wanted to touch herself for at least a second. She needed it to go away.

“Why, what’s up, bub?” Logan asked, acting innocent until he didn’t have to. “Nothing, just- Maybe step on it,” y/n said, meaning for him to drive faster.

“Well, it ain’t hard to see something's going on with you. Just tell me, bub,” Logan said, but y/n couldn’t. “It’s fine-“ y/n tried lying again, but Logan wanted her to tell him what he knew was happening.

“Y/n, don’t start with this secretive shit, okay? I wanna know what’s up with you,” Logan spoke as he placed a hand on her thigh, wanting her to feel more throbbing through her body.

Logan could smell her hours ago. He always smelled her, but after he slipped those pills into her, he could barely shop being around her. He neared to rip her to shreds a while ago, but he held himself together. He needed her to start.

“Look, don’t start laughing when I tell you this — I-I don’t know what’s up, but I’m, like, really fucking throbbing right now. Like, I feel like I’ve been edging myself for hours,”

Y/n and Logan had been friends for a while, so the way she spoke about her situation didn’t phase him. She was just afraid the situation would throw him off.

“What do you mean? Like, you’re honey or something?” Logan asked, feeling his cock pulse through his jeans. He knew he was close to starting what he’d been wanting to do for years.

“Yeah, I guess — Look, just get home. I can’t hold my shit,” y/n said as she crossed her legs. “You need help?” Logan asked, making y/n remember his hand was still over her thigh. She felt a small grip, which made her heart drop.

“N-No, no, I’m good,” y/n said, slowly moving Logan’s hand away because his touch was too much for her. She’s never actually thought of him in any sexual way, but now, she’s realizing the effect he could have on her.

“Why? We’re friends here, and I don’t want you pissy the whole ride back,” Logan said, but y/n shook her head and pushed at his hand that tried to make it back to her thigh.

“I’m okay, I swear — J-Just get us home,” Logan sighed with an eye roll as he pulled off to the side of the dark road. “Logan, please don’t fuck around,” y/n whined as Logan put the car in park and hopped out.

“Logan, what is this about,” y/n leaned back in her seat as Logan walked around the car. The more time that passed, the worse she felt. She felt like she was going to explode at any small rub on her bud.

“We’re far out, and you don’t look like you’re gonna make it,” Logan said as he opened the door. Before y/n could speak, the man pulled under out of the car and pushed her upper body down on her seat.

“Logan, what the hell!” Y/n shouted as she leaned up, not comprehending what was happening until Logan forced her leggings down. “Hey!” Y/n tried turning around, but Logan pushed her back down on the seat.

“Oh, relax — We’re adults — It’s not like you haven’t done this before,” Logan said as he tugged in his own clothes. “Yeah, but not outside. In the dark! In public!” Y/n said but stopped moving.

The woman allowed Logan to roam her body. If he was willing to do this, why would she stop him?

“Just stay still, bub. I’ll help you,” Logan said before he pushed at her cunt. Y/n was surprised at how fast he was willing to help her and be with her. If he wanted, he could’ve rubbed her while he continued driving.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Logan pinned y/n down as she twitched and squirmed. “Fuck,” the young lady moaned low as she tried her best to take him in with ease.

One hand of Logan’s gripped y/n’s ass to spread. He noticed he was probably too big for y/n to handle, but he didn’t go through all of this for nothing.

“Sssh, bub, you’ll be fine — Just fine,” Logan whispered as he continued pushing into her until he was fully in. “Oh, yeah — That’s it,” the man basically growled before he began moving his hips.

“Oh my god,” Y/n said low as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Too fucking big, Logan- Fuck,” y/n tried moving to make this more comfortable, but the way he dug into her, forced her to understand that her body had minimal time left until she bursts.

“Y/n, stay still, before I get unfriendly,” Logan threatened as he slowly thrusted, trying to enjoy how tight she was gripping him. “L-Lo, give me a second — Please,” y/n asked, he ignored.

Y/n tried again to lean up, which only angered Logan. He tried being nice, but y/n has always been hard-headed.

“Look,” Logan gripped a hand full of the young lady's hair and tugged back. “You’re either gonna take it nice and easy, or I’ll rip that orgasm out of you,” Logan threatened again.

“Maybe if you fucking wait, I could-“ Before she could finish, Logan slapped his hand over her mouth and began pounding into her. Y/n’s muffled cries were all she could do.

“You needa learn some fucking respect when you’re the one horny and vulnerable,” Logan hissed the girl's ear as his hips slapped against her ass harder. The noises filled the dark road, only turning Logan on more.

“Such a good cunt. Heaven sent, and I knew it from the smell of you — I’m just upset you kept it from me for so damn long,”

Logan pushed Y/n’s head into the seat after unlatching his hand from her mouth. “Logan!” Y/n basically screamed as the knot got harder to hold.

“Funny knowing your pussy isn’t the only one crying. Look at you. So damn wet. I could keep you in my room and feed off of you for weeks,”

Y/n’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as her body went stiff. “Oh, yeah — There she is,” Logan groaned as he picked up his pace. “Ah huh, ah huh,” Logan kept on as y/n gushed around the man with a loud cry.

“That’s what you’ve been holdin? C’mon, baby. I know you’ve got more in you,” y/n shook her head, hoping Logan would give her a small break before she fully passed out. “Too much,”

“Too much? Oh, please. You think ima stop because you’re about to cum again?” Logan quickly pulled out and turned y/n around. “C’mon, baby, you should’ve known,”

Logan laid y/n down on her back before pushing right back into her. “Oh my god,” y/n whined as she threw her head back, loving the feeling of Logan taking her over. She never knew he’d be this good.

“Don’t worry, baby. After I’m done, we’ll head home — Maybe I should slip a pill down your pretty mouth more often,”

Y/n tried looking up at Logan to see if she heard right, but another orgasm was near. “Yeah, I did that, baby, but you ain’t complaining, right? You fucking love this,”

[gyaruhana]

Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is. 

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch. 

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor. 

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you. 

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him. 

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end. 

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died. 

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him. 

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it. 

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him. 

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him. 

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing. 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive. 

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers. 

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers. 

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan. 

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

[kirammanswifey]

Will you, pretty please, make a pt 2 of arcane characters breaking up with their so? You know, some fluff to cure our wounds…

arcane characters reconcile with you after the breakup x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: let's be honest, both you and i needed this, i love a bit of drama but a bit of fluff is also necessary sometimes, and it was so nice to write this, i loved all the reconciliations, especially caitlyn's. thank you so much for all the support you give me, it makes me want to keep creating more and more content. as you know the requests are open ;)

break up link:

alternative sad final link:

@sugurulefttesticle thanks for the support babe :3

Viktor

The laboratory was shrouded in an unsettling gloom, the shadows cast by the machines seemed longer, darker. Loneliness had settled in every corner, but at the center of it all, Viktor was there, hunched over his plans, as if the weight of his thoughts was crushing him.

Since you had left, time had lost its meaning. The hours blurred into sleepless nights and frantic days of work. But nothing, no formula, no discovery, could fill the void you had left.

The door opened with a soft creak, but Viktor didn’t turn around. Perhaps he had imagined that sound before, hoping it was you, and he feared that this time it would be another illusion. However, your gentle steps echoed on the metal floor, and then his heart skipped a beat.

"Viktor..." your voice was barely a whisper, laden with emotion. "Please, look at me."

He closed his eyes, as if he needed to gather all his strength to do so. Slowly, he turned towards you, and seeing you there, a mix of surprise and something akin to relief crossed his face. But his eyes were filled with something deeper, a sadness he couldn’t hide.

“I didn’t think you would come back…” he said with a broken voice, barely audible. “After everything I did… I didn’t think I deserved your return.”

You stepped closer, each step carrying the intent to close the distance he had put between you. "Viktor, it was never about deserving. It’s about understanding that we need to face this together."

“I pushed you away because… I’m afraid,” he confessed, his voice trembling with the emotional weight. “Afraid that you’ll see me fail, that everything I am won’t be enough. Afraid that one day you’ll realize you can be happier without me.”

The weight of his words hit you like a wave, but you didn’t waver. “Viktor, we all have fears. But running from what scares us doesn’t make it go away. I’m here because I don’t want a future without you, even if it means facing our fears together.”

Viktor lowered his gaze, a silent tear falling down his cheek. “You are... the only thing that has kept me human. Without you, I become a machine, soulless, heartless. I don’t want to lose myself… I don’t want to lose you.”

Hearing those words, your own tears began to flow. You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching his face, gently caressing the cheek where the tear had fallen. “You won’t lose yourself, Viktor. Not as long as we’re together.”

He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of desperation and hope. “How can you keep loving me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Because I love you,” you said without hesitation. “Not for what you do, but for who you are, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

Viktor let out a sob he had been holding back, and without thinking twice, he moved towards you, wrapping you in his arms. It was a fragile embrace but full of promises. In that moment, you knew that, although the road would be difficult, together you could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

Jinx

The night was heavy with rain and despair. Jinx stood at the edge of a building, her feet barely touching the edge as she gazed into the abyss below. The icy wind whipped her body, but she didn’t feel the cold. She was trapped in a whirlwind of dark thoughts, each more desperate than the last.

“End it,” the voices in her head whispered, cruel and persistent. “It’s best for everyone. Get rid of all the pain. You don’t deserve more.”

Her gaze was empty, lost in a place no one else could reach. She closed her eyes, letting the tears mix with the rain, allowing the weight of her emotions to push her further toward the edge.

But then, through the sound of the rain, she heard something. A voice. A familiar voice, filled with anguish. “Jinx, no, please... don’t do it.”

She opened her eyes slowly and saw you, soaked by the rain, your face marked by desperation and tears. You had run to her, not stopping, not thinking of the danger. Now you were there, fighting to reach her, fighting to bring her back.

“Why did you come?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I told you to stay away... not to come back.”

“Because I can’t leave you alone,” you responded, taking a step closer, each movement filled with fear and love. “I love you, Jinx. I can’t lose you like this.”

She shook her head, the tears falling uncontrollably. “You shouldn’t love me. Not after everything I’ve done. I’m a mess. I’ll ruin you, like I ruin everything.”

“Let me decide that,” you said, your voice broken but firm. “You’re not a mess. You’re my baby, and I love you, even when everything seems to fall apart. I won’t leave you alone.”

Jinx stepped back slightly, as if your words hurt her more than anything else. “I always hurt people... I can’t stop. I don’t want to hurt you, but I always end up doing it.”

“I can take it,” you replied, stepping closer, extending your hands toward her, knowing you couldn’t rush her. “Because I’d rather be with you in your worst moments than lose you forever. You don’t have to face this alone. Let me help you.”

She trembled, the weight of her emotions too much to bear. “I’m scared... scared that I can’t stop, scared that this darkness will consume me. I don’t want you to sink with me.”

“We’ll sink together if we have to,” you promised, your hands still extended, waiting for her to reach you. “I don’t care how much it costs. I’m here to stay, Jinx. I won’t abandon you.”

For a long and painful moment, Jinx remained silent, her gaze filled with a sadness so deep it seemed impossible to heal. But finally, her hands moved, barely brushing yours at first, then clinging to them as if they were the only thing keeping her anchored to this world.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice broken by anguish.

“I promise,” you said, squeezing her hands with all the love and desperation you felt. “No matter what happens, no matter how dark it gets, I’ll always be with you.”

With those words, Jinx stepped back from the edge and collapsed into your arms, her body shaken by heart-wrenching sobs. The storm still raged around them, but at that moment, they were bound by something stronger than fear: the promise not to abandon each other.

Vi

The weeks without Vi have been torment. Each day feels like a part of you fades a little more, as if her absence is slowly tearing your soul apart. Today, you’re in the gardens of your home, holding a photo in your hands: the first one you took with Vi, both smiling, happy, unaware of the pain that would come after. Tears blur your vision as your heart breaks over and over with the memories.

Then, you hear footsteps, and there she is, standing, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. You quickly try to dry your tears, to hide the photo, as if that could erase the pain consuming you.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice trembling, not sure if you can bear what’s to come.

Vi takes a step forward, her expression more vulnerable than ever. “I miss you,” she says, her voice broken. “I’m sorry for everything I said, everything I did. I can’t live without you.”

You close your eyes, feeling every word of hers like a direct blow to your heart. “None of that matters now, Vi,” you respond, trying to maintain your firmness. “My family has decided to marry me to a member of the Piltover council.”

Vi looks at you, her face pale. “Marry?” she whispers, as if the word were a curse. “You can’t do it. I know you don’t love anyone else. You can’t love anyone but me.”

Tears threaten to return, but you hold them back. “It’s not my choice, Vi. They decide for me. You’re the one who left me, who pushed me into this destiny.”

“I was an idiot,” Vi admits, taking another step toward you. “I know. But I can’t let this happen. I’ll fight for you, even if I have to face the whole world. I won’t lose you, not like this.”

“And what will that change?” you shout, unable to contain the pain any longer. “You can’t fight everyone! You can’t change who I am, what they expect of me.”

Vi stops, her gaze fixed on yours, with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “The only time you’ll stand at an altar will be with me by your side,” she says with unbreakable firmness. “I won’t let you marry anyone else. Not as an act of pride, but because I love you, and I don’t want to live without you.”

“Vi, please,” you whisper, the tears now falling freely. “This is bigger than us. You can’t fix it with pretty words.”

“Then I’ll fix it with actions,” she responds, with a resolve you hadn’t seen before. “I’ll go wherever necessary, face your parents, that damn council, anyone who tries to come between us. I won’t let them take you from me.”

Her voice trembles, but her determination does not. “I don’t want you to be my savior,” you whisper, your voice almost inaudible. “I want you to be my partner, my equal. But I can’t do this alone, Vi. I can’t keep fighting if you’re not by my side.”

Vi comes closer, until the distance between you both disappears. “You’ll never be alone again,” she promises, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you, and I swear I’ll fight for us, until my last breath. I won’t let them separate us, not them, not anyone.”

The weight of her words envelops you, and finally, you let yourself fall into her arms, allowing all the pain, fear, and contained love to overflow. Vi holds you tightly, whispering promises of a future together, promises that, this time, you’re willing to believe.

Caitlyn

The trial is a public spectacle, a circus meant to satisfy Piltover’s thirst for justice. You stand in the center of the room, hands tied behind your back, as the council leaders gaze at you coldly. The accusations fly over your head like sharp daggers: treason, conspiracy, disloyalty. All because you tried to talk to Ekko, to seek a peace you believed possible between the two cities.

Caitlyn stands at the back of the room, her face impassive, her gaze fixed on you. She hasn’t said a word since the trial began, and the emptiness in her expression breaks you more than any word of condemnation. You know she’s fighting internally, but her silence feels like a sentence in itself.

Finally, the judge announces the decision: "For the charges of treason, this court decrees that you will be stripped of your position as Enforcer and permanently exiled from Piltover."

The verdict falls like a hammer on your heart. You feel your world crumble in an instant. You look at Caitlyn, searching in her eyes for some sign of support, of compassion, but she remains motionless.

As the judge is about to strike the gavel to conclude the session, Caitlyn steps forward, her voice resonating with dangerous calm. "One moment."

The entire room turns toward her. Caitlyn advances with the elegance and authority she has always possessed, but there’s something new in her eyes, a spark of defiance.

"I cannot allow this sentence to be carried out," she says firmly. "This isn’t justice; it’s an act of fear and repression. The person you’re accusing only sought peace, a diplomatic solution to prevent more bloodshed."

The judge frowns, but Caitlyn continues before he can interrupt. "I am the leader of the Enforcers, and my loyalty is to true justice, not a system that punishes hope. If you expel my partner from this city, if you strip someone whose only crime was trying to save us all, then you’ll be provoking a rift you cannot control."

Caitlyn takes another step forward, and her voice lowers, but each word is a sharp edge. "I could easily take control, dismantle this corrupt system from within, and there would be nothing you could do to stop me. But that’s not the justice I seek. What I want is fairness, compassion, and truth."

The silence in the room is deafening. The council members exchange glances, understanding they are not dealing with someone who can be manipulated or intimidated.

After what feels like an eternity, the judge finally relents. "We will review the sentence. The accused will be sanctioned and will not be allowed to leave Piltover, but she will not be exiled or stripped of her position."

Caitlyn nods slightly, then approaches you, freeing you from your bonds with her own hands. "Let’s go," she murmurs, her voice soft yet filled with authority.

You leave the courtroom with her, and once you’re away from the others’ eyes, Caitlyn stops. For the first time, you see her tremble. "I’m sorry," she whispers, her eyes finally filling with tears. "I shouldn’t have doubted you. I shouldn’t have left you alone."

The vulnerability in her voice disarms you. Despite everything, despite the pain, you know Caitlyn did what she could to save you. "Cait," you say softly, taking her face in your hands. "What you just did... was the greatest act of love you could give me. You chose between authority and me, and you chose me."

She closes her eyes, tears falling freely. "It will always be you," she says, her voice trembling. "No matter the odds or the problems that come, I will always choose you. You are my justice, my reason, my everything."

The words sink into your heart, bringing overwhelming relief. You kiss her softly, sealing with that gesture the love that binds you. "You are my everything too, Cait," you whisper. "You always have been."

She holds you tightly, as if she’ll never let you go. "Together," she says in a whisper, her voice laden with emotion. "No matter what happens, we’ll face everything together. Because you are my choice, now and always."

Jayce

The air was thick with tension as the words that had been kept bottled up for so long finally exploded. Everything about him was focused on his ambition, on his vision for Piltover, and everything in you was hurt, torn apart by his indifference.

The last time you saw each other, it was a goodbye filled with cruel and cold words, an ending with no way back. You had decided that you could no longer be the shadow of his dreams, an accessory to the side of his grand plans. You didn’t want any more empty promises. You didn’t want to be the sacrifice.

But now, all that seemed about to change.

One day, you find yourself in your laboratory, lost in your thoughts, trying to push away the lingering pain. The door opens with a familiar creak, and your heart skips a beat without warning. It's not someone you expected to see. It’s him. Jayce.

Silence rises between the two of you. The air is heavy, as if time itself had stopped. He’s there, looking at you, but his gaze no longer holds the confidence it once had. In his eyes, there’s something else now: uncertainty, a faint glimmer of regret.

"I thought I understood," he says, his voice deep but hesitant. "I thought that what I was doing, the ambition, the future of Piltover... I thought it all had to be that way. That I had to leave everything behind, even you, if I wanted to get to where I am now."

You remain silent, the pain still fresh in your veins, but something inside you urges you to listen. You know that everything you’ve been through together can’t be left behind without an answer. You can’t help it, but something inside you breaks again at the sound of his voice, the same one that used to calm your fears, now trembling.

"But I haven’t forgotten you," he continues. "I haven’t stopped thinking about you, about us, about what we were. About what we could have been... if only I weren’t so blind."

You look at him, his presence so intense that it almost makes you doubt everything you thought you knew. "Then why are you here?" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest. "After everything you said... after everything that happened, why?"

Jayce takes a step towards you, hesitant but determined. "Because in the end, I realized that nothing is worth it if you’re not by my side. No matter how great Piltover becomes, no matter how grand my legacy is, if I don’t share that greatness with the person who truly matters."

His voice breaks at the end, as if he’s finally acknowledging something he had avoided all along.

A lump forms in your throat, and your hands tremble slightly. "Jayce..." you murmur, not knowing whether you want to believe him or if you’re afraid it’s too late for all this.

"I’m sorry," he says, his tone filled with remorse. "I’m sorry for not listening to you. For not realizing what we had until I almost lost it. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try. If you’ll let me... I want to try to make it right. I want you to be part of my life, not just a secondary option, not just something I pushed aside."

He gently takes your hands, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll break in his fingers. "I want to be better for you. And if that means changing, if it means prioritizing you, I’ll do it. Because I need you. Not just as part of my life, but as the center of it."

Jayce’s words envelop you like a warm embrace, but you’re still afraid. Afraid that this promise might be just another lie. However, a part of you wants to believe that all of this can be real.

"Do you really understand?" you ask, looking into his eyes with an intensity that reflects your doubts and hopes. "Because I don’t want to be a shadow anymore. I don’t want to be the sacrifice on your path to something that doesn’t include what we shared."

He nods, the determination in his gaze revealing that he’s not here just to talk but to prove it. "I promise you, I understand now. What we have is the only thing that truly matters."

Your breathing calms, though the uncertainty still lingers. "So what are you going to do? Are you going to stop fighting just for Piltover and start fighting for us?"

Jayce smiles, a vulnerable but sincere smile. "I’m going to fight for what really matters, for what I didn’t want to lose. For you."

A weight lifts from your shoulders, and for a moment, you feel that the pain of everything lost can be healed. Because, in the end, it’s not about power or control. It’s about what the heart chooses, about what people decide to cherish.

You step closer to him, gently touching his face, and at last, after so long, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. "I don’t want to lose you again," you whisper.

"And you won’t," he responds, drawing you even closer, as if there had never been space between you. "Never again."

Ekko

The cold wind of Zaun blew strongly as you entered the house, the echo of your footsteps resonating like a forewarning. You didn’t know what you were going to find, but something told you that Ekko was no longer the same. The house, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, now seemed empty, desolate.

Ekko was there, sitting in front of a table, his hands trembling slightly. When he saw you, his eyes widened, but there was no surprise, just a flicker of something else. Regret.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice breaking. In the distance, the image of the battle came to mind. That night when you almost lost him forever. It had been a brutal blow. The fear of never seeing him again consumed you.

"I saw everything, you know?" Ekko began to speak, his voice softer than usual, as if he were searching for the right words. "When I fell… when everything seemed to be ending… the only thing I saw… was you." A long sigh escaped his chest, as if those words had cost him as much as a contained scream. "I saw your face, your pain… and I realized, too late, that the only battle that truly mattered, the one I didn’t want to lose… was ours."

Silence filled the room, your eyes welling up with tears as you processed what he had just said. "Ekko, why...? Why couldn’t we make it work before?"

He looked at you deeply, as if each word was a struggle, as if he were slowly building up what he felt. "I told you that you weren’t enough... but it was me who wasn’t enough. I, who thought I could save everything, who thought I could be everything for everyone, but when I looked at my life… I saw nothing. I saw what I had lost the most. And it was me who pushed away the only thing that truly mattered."

He stood up with effort, his eyes filled with regret and pain, the way he looked at you was so intense it hurt. "I… I fought for Zaun, but the only real fight I should be fighting, the only one that matters, is for you." His words flowed out of his mouth, but it seemed he was seeking his own forgiveness. "I failed you. I failed you because I didn’t understand what it meant to have you by my side. You were always enough, and you always will be."

He approached slowly, his face now close to yours, and though his gaze was tired, there was something new in it: vulnerability. "Would you let me fight for you, even now, even though everything is broken?"

Your voice trembled as you looked into Ekko's eyes. "Why are you asking me now? Why when everything is already broken?"

"Because I saw you leave, I saw how my life dimmed without you. And I realized that despite everything, the only thing that keeps me standing is knowing that I can still fight for what I love the most. And that's you. You are my reason to keep going. My only reason." His eyes glistened, and for a moment, it seemed that time had stopped between the two of you.

The air was heavy with palpable pain, and your tears fell uncontrollably. No matter how much damage had been done, the love between you had never left, it had just been buried under layers of pride and distance.

"Ekko..." you whispered, your voice broken. "What if I'm no longer what you need?"

"You’ll always be. You always were. And you always will be, baby" he said, his voice cracking as he took your hands with a desperate strength. "I’m so sorry."

Finally, words were no longer enough, and in an impulse, you both leaned in, letting yourselves be carried by the need to heal what was broken. Ekko's tears mixed with yours, the pain transformed into something that needed to be healed, and within the shadows of the house, you both finally understood that although the path to reconciliation would be difficult, there was still a chance to fight for the love that hadn’t completely disappeared.

Silco

The warehouse's dim light wrapped around you like an ominous forewarning, the thick, heavy air clinging to your skin. You had fallen into the trap, and although you knew it, you couldn't stop fighting, trying to free yourself. You had been at the brink of death more times than you cared to count, but this time it was different. The face of the man who held you prisoner was not one you knew well, but you did know that he was under the orders of someone much more dangerous. Silco had never fully explained the world he moved in, but something about the surroundings told you there would be no escape. This wasn't just any kidnapping. This time you wouldn't be saved so easily.

The ropes binding your wrists tightened as your mind spun in search of a way out. Your breathing was uneven, and every attempt to calm yourself only multiplied the fear. The man in front of you, with harsh features and cold eyes, watched your every move with a cruel smile. The sense of threat was palpable, yet you tried to defy him, even though you knew it was a vain attempt.

"Silco?" You called, but your voice trembled, betrayed by panic.

"Do you think he'll come to save you?"

The man let out a mocking laugh, stepping closer, the blade of a knife catching the warehouse's dim light.

"Silco has too many problems to deal with you," he said with a calm that only made the situation more terrifying. "You should already know, in this world, there's no room for weakness. Especially not for a little whore like you; you whores are replaceable. And apparently, he's already replaced you, everyone knows it. But my boss thought it would be a courteous gesture to send him your head as a small gift."

Your thoughts blurred with the sound of the door bursting open, and a chill ran down your spine at the familiar echo of firm, controlled footsteps. It was him. There was no doubt.

The man didn't seem worried, his arrogance had blinded him. "What's the great Silco doing here? Jealous that I have your former little bitch now? Relax, I'll give her back to you once I'm done with her. You can keep a leg or both, but her organs are mine, I'm sure they'll fetch a good price in the market."

There was no response. Silco didn't say a word, but the tension in the air was so thick that the entire room seemed to hold its breath. His eyes, cold as ice, scanned the man before you and then fixed on you, without showing a hint of emotion. Without hesitation, his hand slid to the back of his belt. In the blink of an eye, the sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, and the man fell to the ground, his life fading so quickly he didn't even have time to comprehend it.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but for you, the world seemed to stop the moment Silco's figure approached. The intensity in his gaze, that palpable energy that used to envelop you in his presence, was now just a reminder of everything you had lost. He freed you from the ropes without a word. The contact of his hand as he touched you sent a shiver down your spine, and though his gesture was practical, you couldn't help but wonder if, in some corner of his being, there was still something of the person he had been before. Something that had loved you.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, his tone cold and distant as always. But this time, it wasn't the tone of the protector, the leader who had cared for you. It was the voice of someone who had forgotten what it meant to feel.

You tried to pull away from his touch, the same touch you had once desired with all your being. You couldn't bear it any longer. You couldn't bear him, his indifference.

"Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep saving me? If you hate me so much, why save me?" Your voice was a broken whisper, but the pain in it was clear.

Silco remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that burned. You could see the internal struggle in his gaze, that shadow of doubt that had arisen between him and you. Finally, he took a step towards you, his face implacable, but his hands trembling as he approached.

"You didn't understand anything," he murmured, his tone low, more vulnerable than you had ever heard. "What I told you... it was all a lie. I didn't want to lose you, that's why I pushed you away. I didn't want you close to this world, to this hell... but I couldn't. I couldn't let you go. I thought if I pushed you away, you wouldn't suffer, but..." His voice broke briefly, and silence filled the space between you both.

You looked at his face, puzzled by the contradiction in him. Everything he had said before, everything he had done, seemed to crumble now before your eyes.

"You don't understand, do you?" You whispered, still fighting the lump in your throat. "What did you think? That I didn't know what I was getting into when I decided to stay with you? That I didn't know death would always be at my back? That I would always have to live on the edge because you insisted on being the damn king of a world like this?"

Silco didn't respond immediately, his face softened slightly, and a shadow of regret crossed his gaze.

"I know," he said in a hoarse voice, "I know everything I said was cruel. But what I didn't tell you... is that, even if the whole world collapses, the only thing that matters to me... the only thing I've truly loved... is you."

The impact of his words hit you, and for a second, time stopped. The pain, the rage, the uncertainty, all of it seemed to dissolve into the air. But above all, there was something else, something you never expected to hear from him.

"I chose you," you whispered as you slowly approached him. "Despite everything, I chose you. I chose you, and even knowing what it would mean, I would do it again. Because that's what love really is. Choosing the person despite everything, even knowing death is just around the corner."

A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes, something you rarely saw in him, and for a moment, all the hatred, all the anger that had existed between you disappeared, leaving you alone, vulnerable, but finally honest.

"Then, come back, please," he pleaded, his voice trembling, his hand seeking yours. "I can't bear a world without you. I can't lose you. I'll keep protecting you, no matter how many times I have to dirty my hands with blood."

You approached, touching his forehead with the softness of a caress that, in that moment, was the only thing that could heal the wounds you both carried.

"I'm here, my love," you whispered to him, as he closed his eyes, letting the pain and hope dissolve between his arms. "I'll never leave you again. No matter what happens. It will always be you and me against the world. Always and forever."

And so, in that moment, the broken words and wounds of the past were left behind. In their place, there was only the certainty that, in the end, the love they shared couldn't be destroyed, even if the whole world was in ruins.

Mel

It's close to three in the morning when you hear a knock on the door. You're half asleep, your head heavy, but something in the air alerts you. With every step you take towards the entrance, you feel your heart racing, as if you know something is about to change, something you can't stop. You open the door, and there she is.

Mel is not the same as before. She isn't wearing the luxuries that always accompany her, the perfectly applied makeup, or the golden jewelry that always shone on her skin. She's a mess, her gaze lost, her face haggard. The strong woman who always seemed in control is now broken, empty. And when she looks at you, her eyes are not the same. They are filled with pain, with a suffering she hasn't been able to hide.

Before you can say a word, Mel throws herself at you. She takes you by surprise, but you quickly wrap your arms around her. Her body is trembling, as if her entire being is collapsing. You feel her tears soaking your shirt, and in the silence of the early morning, she begins to speak through sobs.

"I faced her..." her voice is broken, and every word costs her more than it seems. "My mother... she told me... she told me I would never be enough. That I'm not. You were right." She pauses for a moment, unable to continue, as if the weight of those words is too heavy for her soul to carry.

You hold her tighter, even though the words coming out of her mouth are like daggers in your chest. "Mel, please... don't say that," you murmur, though the anguish in your own voice is as present as hers. "You're not what she says. You're not."

"I'm her puppet," she responds bitterly. "She manipulated me... manipulated me to make all this happen. To put Piltover in her hands. I started a war, and now... I can't stop it. I'm to blame for all of this." Her crying intensifies, and you can feel her pain as if she's tearing herself apart inside. "She called me weak... called me a disgrace to the Medarda clan..."

Those words leave you cold. You feel the air catch in your throat. But you can't let her fall. You can't let her sink further into that darkness. You pull her away slightly, holding her face in your hands, forcing her to look into your eyes.

"No, Mel," you say firmly, even though your heart is shattered. "You're not weak. You're not a disgrace. You are... you're Mel Medarda, an incredible woman, not Ambessa's daughter. And that's what you'll always be to me."

She shakes her head, as if your words are merely an illusion. "You don't see it... you don't understand," she says, her voice broken by the sobs. "I am everything she wants me to be. Everything she told me to be. And now I don't know who I am... I don't know if I'm what you need."

You move closer to her, almost brushing her lips, and you can feel her desperation. "What you need isn't to be what your mother wants, Mel. What you need... what you need is to be yourself. You are enough. You are more than enough. I want you, with everything you are. It doesn't matter what she thinks. I love you just the way you are."

Mel closes her eyes tightly, as if she wants to block out the pain of your words, but even she knows that something in you is true. You feel that, though she doesn't want to admit it, your love for her is a refuge, a sanctuary from the torment she's lived her entire life.

"I promise I won't leave you alone in this," you continue, holding her face in your hands. "We'll figure it out together, Mel. We will. You're not going to lose me. I'm not going to lose you."

Mel finally looks up and meets your gaze, her eyes filled with tears, but there's something different in her expression. It's not the emptiness she gave you before, it's a spark, something of hope that begins to ignite deep within her.

"I don't want to keep fighting alone," she says softly, almost as if it's a lost whisper. "I'm so afraid... so afraid of all this. Of what I've caused. But... I don't want to lose what we have. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," you reply with a sigh, holding her tightly, as if you could embrace all her fears. "I won't leave you alone. I promise. We'll figure it out. Together."

Time seems to stop at that moment. The world outside keeps turning, but you and Mel, in this instant, have only each other. And although the future is uncertain, you know that as long as you have each other, nothing can tear you apart.

Sevika

The sound of heavy footsteps is the first thing you hear. It’s late, the city is shrouded in darkness, but something in the air tells you this time it’s not a dream, not a nightmare. The knocking on the door startles you, and when you open it, you see her.

Sevika is standing in front of you, slightly swaying, her breathing uneven. The scent of alcohol is strong, mixed with the sensation of sweat and exhaustion emanating from her body. Her eyes, usually so firm, are now dull, almost lost, as if she’s searching for something she doesn’t know how to find.

“Sevika… what are you doing here?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest, confused and worried to see her like this.

She doesn’t respond immediately, just stands there, watching you, as if she wants to say something, but the words seem stuck in her throat. After a long silence, she finally speaks, her voice deep and broken.

“I went to the brothels…” she murmurs, her head hanging low, as if it’s a confession, something weighing heavier than anything else. “To forget you. To stop thinking about you. I was with other people… so many other people. But everything I did reminded me of you. Of you and how… how I lost you.”

Your stomach churns at her words. The betrayal cuts you like a sharp knife. You step back from her, feeling the pain grow in your chest.

“No… why? Why did you do that?” The anger and hurt are clear in your voice, but there’s also a vulnerability you can’t hide. “Is that why you left me? To be with other people?”

Sevika lifts her head, her eyes reflecting a remorse so deep you can almost feel it as your own. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” she says, her words faltering. “I did it because I thought it was what I should do… because I hurt you, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t want you to need me, I didn’t want to drag you with me into this damn abyss.”

Your heart beats so fast you feel it might burst out of your chest. Every word from Sevika hurts more, but there’s something in her gaze, in the way she’s opening up to you now, that makes you hesitate.

“But…” she continues, taking another step closer. “None of it worked. None of it. I remember you in every one of those faces. I remember you when I’m alone when I try to forget you. And the worst part, the most painful part, is that I can’t… I can’t stop wanting you.”

The words hang in the heavy air between you. The silence becomes unbearable. Sevika takes another step, closer to you until you can feel her ragged breath. She’s so close you can see every line on her face, the fragility you never thought she had.

“I… I never wanted you to see me this way,” she says, her voice breaking, as if every word costs her a world. “But please… listen to me carefully. There’s nothing I want more in this damn world than to be with you. I don’t want to keep living without you. I can’t. I love you. I can’t keep running from it. I can’t live with the weight of not telling you this sooner.”

The air freezes between you, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The hate, the confusion, the betrayal… it all mixes in your chest, but deep down, you know what she just said is real.

“What?” you manage to whisper, your eyes filling with unshed tears. “Are you serious?”

Sevika closes her eyes, as if fighting against herself. “I love you,” she repeats, her voice softer now, as if she’s giving you everything she had, everything she had kept in her heart. “I love you, and I don’t want to keep living this lie. You… you’re the only thing that matters to me. You’re my only reason for being here. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to keep suffering because of me. Please…”

Those “please” are like a plea, a silent scream that pierces through all the walls you had built around your heart. Sevika, the strong and fierce woman who always showed you her darkest side, is now on her knees before you, vulnerable, open, filled with a desperation you hadn’t seen before.

And in that instant, you feel everything crumble. The pain, the resentment, the confusion… it all disappears. Only love remains, raw and real, so strong it almost chokes you. Without thinking, you throw yourself into her arms, your arms wrapping around her with a desperate intensity, as if you fear that if you let her go, she’ll disappear forever.

“I love you too,” you whisper against her neck, the tears falling uncontrollably. “I love you so much it hurts.”

Sevika holds you with the same strength, her body trembling against yours. “Then let’s make it not hurt,” she murmurs, her words filled with a mix of relief and pain. “Let’s not let it separate us again, please.”

“That won’t happen again,” you reply, your lips seeking hers, not caring about anything else. “I won’t let it happen. What we have is forever.”

When your lips meet, the kiss is fierce, filled with the passion of everything that has built up, of everything that was left unsaid. It’s a kiss filled with desperation, love, and unspoken promises. It’s the beginning of a new chapter, one where the darkness won’t separate you, where love will keep you together, always.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (1)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Nancy is with Jonathan; Steve is still in love with Nancy; You're in love with Steve; Eddie's in love with you; Robin just wanted to have a movie night but everyone is making it weird.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: I'm going to let y'all decide who our reader ends up with for this one- please let me know who you think our reader should pick! I think this will be another 5 part series. Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs and hitting up my asks are always so so so appreciated.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

It was always Nancy. No matter what it always came back to Nancy. It happened over and over and over like a broken record. Like a glutton for punishment, you always went back for more thinking to yourself this time it’s going to be different. Squished on the lumpy loveseat with Robin, you watch Steve as he watches Nancy. You were pathetic and you knew it. Hopelessly in love with someone who’d never in a million years look at you the way he’s looking at her.

Eddie sits on the floor between your legs with his back rested against the front of the couch as you aimlessly braid his hair. You run your fingers through his hair, carefully navigating through the tangles. You pull strains and weave them together without needing to think about it- you’ve done it a million times before. Eddie would let you do whatever you wanted, he loved the feeling of your hands in his hair. He’d lean his head back as far as he could manage, and shoot you an upside down smile. It always made you giggle before you would use your palm to gently put his head back into place. 

It was quite a sight for Robin, like the most fucked daytime drama never written, if she knew how to read the room and pick up on the very obvious clues before her. Steve, her platonic soulmate and best friend, pining over his ex-girlfriend while you, her other best friend, pine over Steve and all the while Eddie, Steve’s roommate and your other best friend, pines over you. It was enough to make her sick. All the while, Nancy is completely oblivious as she checks her watch, waiting expectantly for Jonathan- her actual boyfriend- to arrive. Despite the mess before her, Robin was none the wiser. 

She knew Steve was still hung up on Nancy, because he never shut up about her during their shifts. However, you felt you kept your lovesick crush on Steve under pretty good wraps. Unfortunately, Eddie was so preoccupied with you that he felt it every time your eyes were on Steve or he’d witnessed all the small things you’d do that convinced him you actually liked Steve. 

He’d watch as you couldn’t make eye contact with Steve, looking everywhere but him when he spoke. He’d watch the way you’d steal glances at him when you thought no one else was looking. He’d see the way you’d take a deep breath to compose yourself when you’d see Steve looking at Nancy. The same way you’d break your own heart looking around for Steve, he’d be doing the same looking at you watching him. 

You’d watched one too many movies where the guy realizes the right girl all along was his best friend. You thought if you were patient, Steve would realize he’d been in love with you the whole time and he never realized it. If you’re there for him in his times of heartbreak, he’d see that you’re so much better for him than anyone else. He’d see you, really see you, and know you were the one who was always there. 

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Robin said suddenly before reaching for the bowl of popcorn at the coffee table.

“Anthony Michael Hall is making a robot girlfriend because he can’t get girls,” Steve explains, coming off a little perturbed that Robin was talking during the movie again. 

“They could’ve just asked out a couple of more girls- they didn’t need to let their end all be all be two girls with boyfriends,” she continues and Steve scoffs. He couldn’t believe he was really about to have a debate on realism with Robin right now over fucking Weird Science. 

“This’ll actually happen one day,” Eddie muses and is met with four heads whipping around to give him the same weird look. “You’re telling me that like fifty years from now, no one will have this figured out? AV geeks are desperate enough- Ow!” You’d hit him playfully on the back of the head. 

“You’re not one to criticize anyone for being desperate, Munson,” Steve chuckles and Eddie promptly flips him off. “You don’t exactly have them lining up for you either.”

“It’s been a pretty dry few years yourself King Steve,” Eddie mocks, and you see Steve crack his knuckles nervously, hating the conversation going down this road. No one meant for it to happen, but now you’re all wrapped up reflecting in your own loneliness that the mood of the evening was almost completely dampened. 

“Can you guys be quiet,” Nancy chastises, “Some of us are trying to actually watch the movie.”

“You cannot be serious?” Robin giggles, “It’s a stupid movie, Nance.” 

The night took a weird shift. Jonathan did eventually stroll in and Nancy was understandably hurt that he was so late. He pulled a kitchen chair over to sit next to where Nancy sat but she promptly decided to ignore him, silently stewing instead of causing a scene. Steve recoiled back into his own head- Eddie’s King Steve comment affecting him more than he thought it would. He watched Anthony Michael Hall and kept wondering if this would be his fate- no bitches. Had he really been that guy to have peaked in high school and then is destined to end up alone?

Steve’s comment towards Eddie made him also get lost in his own stream of self deprecating thoughts. He knew Steve was joking- but there was truth to it that made it sting. Eddie didn’t have a lot of experience with girls, most girls- hell including the one he was actually in love with- wanted really nothing to do with him. He wasn’t that guy. Girls didn’t look at him like that like they looked at Steve- how you looked at Steve. It made him jealous and sad and made him feel so painstakingly lonely despite being in a room full of his closest friends as you played with his hair. He could scream. 

And as usual, you preoccupied yourself with Steve- thinking about what Steve could be thinking about or watching the way Steve anxiously rubbed his palms against his jeans. Was Steve thinking about Nancy? Maybe, just maybe, you could catch him looking at you, even if just once. Maybe Steve would get up and go to the kitchen, and it could be an opening for you to check in with him since he’s seemed off tonight. You felt hopeless. 

Robin just assumed most people were quiet because they genuinely were watching the movie, but she realized something was wrong when she was the only person laughing. It couldn’t be that she was the only one who wanted to crack jokes or laugh at this godforsaken movie. She eventually caught on to something brewing in the air amongst her friends and it was incredibly unsettling. 

“GOD! I can’t take it anymore!” She exclaims, and everyone jumps. “What is wrong with everybody tonight? You all are acting so effing weird and I can’t stand it.” 

“Everyone’s fine, Robin,” you offer, trying to diffuse the tension. She shooks you a look. A “do you think I’m fucking stupid” look that could kill. Fair enough, you think to yourself. 

“Clearly something is wrong,” she reiterates. Annoyed with Nancy, Jonathan takes the bait and casts the first stone. 

“I don’t know,” Jonathan muses, looking at Nancy before letting out his irritation, “Might have to do with the fact you hang around with your ex all the time- and it’s clearly obvious he still has feelings for you.” 

Nancy gasps, offended that Jonathan would bring a fight that they’d had before into the room for everyone to comment on. Jonathan knew how Steve felt, and Nancy’s refusal to acknowledge his concerns on numerous occasions has finally made Jonathan hit his breaking point. He needed her to realize that he wasn’t jealous of Steve- but Steve was jealous of him. Nancy denied that Steve still held feelings for her. She was actually oblivious. 

“Steve and I are just friends!” Nancy insists, “I have told you that and told you that! It’s like you don’t trust me!”

“I don’t trust him!” Jonathan emphasizes. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, he still likes you and you still keep hanging around with him when you’re supposed to be with me, Nance.”

“I am with you! I’m your girlfriend, not his,” she snaps. “Steve, come on, please tell him he’s being ridiculous.” 

Most unfortunately, Steve stutters. He hesitates and fumbles, and couldn’t lie fast enough. The pregnant seconds where he’s at a loss for words tells Jonathan everything he needs to know. It doesn’t feel good to know he was right. 

“Sounds about right,” Jonathan scoffs.

“It’s not her fault-” Steve tried to interject. 

“Stay out of it Steve,” Jonathan sighs, “please.”

This fight was not about Steve, and everyone knew it. This was about Jonathan, and the way he hurt when Nancy dismissed his feelings. It was about how she didn’t take his concerns seriously or ever was willing to talk about it. He was sick of being dismissed as paranoid or jealous. He knew Nancy had no idea how Steve felt, but it wasn’t an excuse to inadvertently gaslight him when he knew something felt off. 

“I’m going home,” Nancy says, sitting up suddenly in hopes of making a swift exit to save her pride. 

“Nope!” Robin interjects, “We aren’t done. I’m not letting any of you leave until all of it is out in the open. I can’t go on like this. You guys are my best friends and we are working all of this shit out.” She takes a steady breath and Nancy surprisingly sits back down calmly. “So props to Jonathan for getting the ball rolling,” Robin quips, “let’s actually keep talking things out, yeah?”

“Steve?” Nancy looks at him, and she looks hurt. She feels so betrayed- like all of the times they’ve spent together as friends has been a lie. A ruse to win her back- she feels lied to and like she’s simultaneously lost a friend in the same breath. It guts her. She’s too stunned to even know what to say. 

Steve keeps his head down, too ashamed to look at anyone. He holds his head in his hands. You watch him intently, you absorb all his hurt like a sponge. You keep your gaze on him, wanting to reach out and comfort him. You look like a puppy who's been hit on the nose with a newspaper and Eddie scoffs. 

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Munson?” Robin turns, picking up on Eddie’s disgust. He shakes his head and avoids her knowing gaze. Fuck it, he thinks to himself. 

“I’m fucking pissed,” Eddie announces, standing up. The braid you were in the process of making slowly unravels as he moves. He looks to you and then to Steve. “I’m not even pissed at anyone, I’m just stewing in my own self-hatred because I’m in love with her.” Eddie points to you dramatically, not even realizing how much he’s revealing as his emotions get the best of him. “But she’s so in love with you,” Eddie points a finger at Steve, “That she doesn’t even notice me.”

“I don’t even blame anyone- of course you love Steve, you know? It just fucking sucks because I watch you and you’re always watching him and you keep hoping he’s going to see you and he never does. Meanwhile, I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts and I can never tell you because you’re my best friend and Steve is my best friend. And if you like her back, Steve, you should go for it. I can’t even put myself out there cause scenario one, I lose you,” Eddie gestures to you. “Scenario two- Steve gets his head out of his ass and you two finally get together. I lose both of you, because I can’t put myself through watching someone I’m in love with be with someone else. Or scenario three- you and I do get together and I’m all in- I swear to god, I would be all fucking in. But would you ever even love me as much as you’ve loved him? I don’t know.” 

It’s your turn to be stunned. For the first time, Steve’s looking at you and it’s not at all what you hoped it would be. You recognize the look in his eye, it’s the same way Nancy was just looking at him. Pity. You know then and there that Steve never once thought about you the way you hoped he secretly did. It was all made up in your head. Eddie looks defeated, and mortified all at the same time. He shocked himself at his outburst. He’d always been one for dramatics but never at your expense. He feels so guilt ridden that he could shrivel up and let the world swallow him whole. 

“I, uh, need to get some air,” you say. You grab your jacket from the hook and slide on your shoes in one fluid motion. “I’ll be back,” you say quickly, slamming the door behind you as you left Eddie and Steve’s apartment. You can’t help as the tears stream down your face uncontrollably. It’s one of those cries where it’s so hard you can’t even make noise as it takes all of your breath away. You’re practically doubled over in the midst of a panic attack when Eddie finds you leaning against the building. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says earnestly, “That was so fucked up. I am so, so sorry. That wasn’t fair to you, that was such a shitty thing for me to say.” 

You manage to nod to let him know you heard him, but you’re blubbering and you’re still struggling to get your breath back. Hiccuped breaths finally catch up to you and you feel your lungs slowly begin to refill with air. The night’s cold air helps to clear your sinuses in one big breath. You wipe your face with the sleeves of your jacket. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. 

“Steve is so lucky,” Eddie says after another few moments of silence. “To be loved by you?” He chuckles, taking a lean on the wall next to you. “Lucky bastard,” he jokes, and you manage a forced smile through the tears. “Must be the best damn thing in the whole world and he doesn’t even realize it,” he continues more seriously. “Well, until now, when I ruined everything,” he finalizes, sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it either,” you mumble, “God, what Steve was doing to me- I was doing to you? Fuck.” 

“Fucked up, right?” he teases. “How’s it feel, heartbreaker?”

“Really, really shitty,” you settle on and he laughs. 

“Yup,” he agrees, making a pop sound at the end. “Really, really shitty. Indeed.” 

“God, I wasted so much fucking time,” you admit to yourself. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says softly, helping fix the collar of your jacket. It was tucked in because you put it on so fast and didn’t bother to fix it. “That I wouldn’t be able to trust you with Steve or whatever if we hypothetically got together or whatever- it was just a really, really ugly insecurity that bubbled up. If after this all blows over and you don’t completely hate my guts, and maybe by some miracle you wanted to give us a chance, I wouldn’t hold your feelings for Steve over you like that.” 

“Did you mean it that I’d lose you?” you ask, looking to him. He shakes his head. 

“I was talking out of my ass,” he admits, “I was emotional and just letting my frustration get the better of me. I won’t stop being your friend if you don’t like me back.”

“I’ve been doing that already,” he jokes and you swat his arm. 

“Not funny,” you grumble, but you can’t find it in you to actually be upset. 

“I don’t want an answer from you now,” he says, shifting back to a serious tone, but you can hear how nervous he is. “But if and when you get over Steve, and you realize I’m not that bad to look at- maybe you and I could go out sometime. I’m putting the ball in your court. I just want you to be happy. If you end up with Steve, I’m your best man. You end up with me, I’ll work my hardest every damn day to make you so fucking happy. No matter what, I will be your friend. You aren’t losing me.”

“Thank you,” you smile, and you pull him into a hug. You finally start to feel okay again. You feel like you could get over Steve, but then you remember that everyone inside is waiting for you- including Steve. The anxiety begins to stir and you can’t imagine facing everyone now after all of this. 

“I got you,” Eddie whispers, taking your hand, “We’ll go back together.” 

Eddie’s held your hand a million times before, but it wasn’t until now that you realize how well your hand fits in his. You shake your head to erase the thought from your mind for now and try to relax. The walk back up to the apartment is much longer than it’s ever felt before.

No one says anything when you both come back. You and Eddie kick off your shoes and he helps you take your jacket off. You sniffle, and quickly take your seat back on the loveseat. Eddie slips into the kitchen and grabs a six pack from the fridge. He holds it up like a fish he’s just caught triumphantly. 

“I think we all need one, yeah?” He jokes and he diffuses the tension as everyone agrees in tandem. He pulls them apart from the plastic ring, tossing them out. He throws you a wink when he tosses you yours and you can’t help but smile. 

“Can I just say,” Robin says, “Had I known you all were upset about actually serious stuff- I wouldn’t have opened this can of worms. I thought you were just pissed at each other about the comments about not getting laid.”

Nancy and Jonathan must have made up while you were outside because instead of separate seats, Jonathan sat on the living room chair and Nancy was perched on his lap. Steve was just watching you. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Nancy was there. He was fixated on looking at you. He was taking in everything about you like he was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time. 

Fuck, if you weren’t beautiful, Steve thinks. He always knew you were, but he never really thought about it until now. Even after crying, you just look so pretty. He’s pained knowing he’s caused you so much pain. He looks to Eddie and feels jealousy rise irrationally. He’s jealous of Eddie for realizing how perfect you were before he did. It’s so fucking petty and he knows it. Eddie’s had all this time to adore you, while he’s squandered it following around Nancy like a simp. He’s loved you and lost you in the same fucking night.

“Let’s keep going,” Eddie jokes, trying to make light of the situation, “Air out more grievances- Buckley, you need new shoes. Those fucking chucks are abhorrent- please, get new ones. They are why your back hurts all the time.” 

“Okay, Mr. Same White Reeboks Since Senior Year,” she taunts, feigning offense to his jab. “Keep my converse out of your mouth!”

“I have boots now,” he says, pointing to the leather boots by the door. “Much more metal.” 

“Cause it’s fucking January, Eddie,” Robin says with a laugh, “Of course you’re wearing fucking boots.”

“Yet you strolled into my house wearing Converse,” he says walking over the the floor and pointing at Robin’s worse for wear Chuck Taylors. “It was snowing this morning, Robin! Please, as your friend- please let ME get you new shoes.”

“You can pry those shoes off of me when I’m dead,” she raises her voice. The lighthearted air has returned to the evening. It felt like it had been salvaged for now. Everyone seemed to be feeling better, except Steve. As the world began to pick up again, he was paralyzed- burdened with the knowledge of your feelings for him and knowing he might be too late to do anything about it. Was it?

PART TWO

[dollwrites]

sɴᴀᴘ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇʀ ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ᴛᴏᴊɪ ғᴜsʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｔｙｐｅ ┊ standalone

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ ┊ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, age gap, dubcon, throat fucking, pet names ( daddy ; little girl ), mean toji :3, all characters featured are aged 18+

ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ ┊ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“W-wait—!” breath after breath you try to suck in, but every single one is stolen from you as Toji’s hips buck back and forth, filling your mouth with hard, strong cock. the swollen tip batters the entrance to your throat in a relentless, rapid-fire punch that has your eyes watering. with both hands against his thighs, you try to rip your head back and ask for a moment to get used to the way he fucked your face.

”Stop pulling away, little girl.” Toji grunts, a rumble of pleasure in the back of his throat more akin to the growl of a hungry animal than a moan from a man being pleasured. “Not done yet.“

After a desperate moment of struggle, you manage to pull away for a split second. falling on to your butt on the floor, your back smacks against the wall and you heave out a couple of ragged breaths. “F—fuck, daddy…” you mutter, but it’s hardly audible amidst your panting. blinking the tears away from your eyes, you wipe the drool from your chin and cheeks with the back of your hand. “I… can’t… breathe…”

“Did I ask?”

such a simple question, but the weight of it hit you like a sack of bricks, and your wide eyes flit up to catch the daunting sight of him. tall, broad, and blocking out the flickering light of the ceiling lamp as he steps closer, bathing you in his massive shadow. both feet plant themselves on either side of you, pinning you there, whilst a gargantuan fist snatches your hair into it at the scalp, pushing the back of your head flush with the wall behind you. ”Learn to breathe through your nose, or don’t breathe at all. I don’t give a damn.“ looking down at you as your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and your mouth hangs open, as if he’s fucked all the muscles loose, he chuckles a bit. “I will put my cock down your throat, sweetheart,” as he tells you this inescapable fact, his free hand flees to your neck, where his middle finger hooks underneath the thin, sparkly choker necklace adorning it. “And I’m gonna watch this break at the same time your will does. You got me?”

if your jaw wasn’t so sore, hanging slack, you would’ve been able to bite down on your lower lip, hesitant about the idea. Toji’s dick was huge, and you could just barely handle it when you would wrap your hands around his base to keep him from facefucking you too deep, but this time, he was going to try and force it down your throat? you swallow around the lump beginning to grow as you stare at the cock before you, shiny with spit and jabbing upwards towards the man it belonged to. he held all of the power.

you nod once, before an abrupt jut of his hips fills your mouth with cock once more. you feel the head push against the back of your throat, but he doesn’t pull back. instead, with his fist tightening on your hair, his knees against the wall as he keeps you in place, he uses a fraction of the strength he possesses to bully his way into your throat. a flustered gurgle dies in your mouth, drool oozing from both corners of your mouth as your hands brace against the floor instead of attempting to push him away. breathing through your nose was harder to focus on than you’d expected, because the much older man was invading your gullet.

the weight of his balls as they smash against your chin tells you just how deep he is, and when you try to look up at him with one eye squinted, to the point of nearly shutting, you see him grinning. it’s a tooth-gritting, snarling grin as he falls into a rough, fast rhythm. never once pulling out of your throat. battering the virgin canal in ways you never thought possible. “Fuck, that throat’s tight!” he moaned, using one fist on your hair to pull you in to meet his thrusting, “You oughta see how it’s stretching, little girl. My cock looks like it’ll bust right through your neck.“

he didn’t have to tell you; you could already feel it. how big he was compared to your throat, and how you struggled when you were stuffed full. your eyes are watering, the sounds that bubble out from your stretched-open mouth are gargles and whimpers, but you couldn’t deny just how good it felt. your pupils blow themselves out with immense pleasure, and you soak through your panties, your arousal sticking to your thighs as he rubs your throat raw around him over and over again.

“Gonna snap this little cocktease,” Toji mutters, and focus his power and energy on plowing into your throat, prodding the bulge against the tight, flimsy jewelry. you can already hear it start to rip, probably from the middle, as he applies an insane amount of pressure against your throat, and you let out a strangled yelp before it shreds in half, glitter exploding into the air and raining down on you, as if it were confetti to celebrate his victorious conquest. gritty glitter gets caught in the spit and cum oozing from your mouth, glueing it to your countenance. “And the same fucking thing will happen every time you wear one of these things around me. Remember that, baby.“

[totalswag]

podcast therapuss ⎯ DREW STARKEY

authors notes first time writing influencer!reader, i like it so far. this idea popped into my head the other day after watching one of jake’s episodes. there's no face claim for influencer!reader, i added this picture for the ideal theme.

taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary joining jakes podcast talking about various topics then mentioning not getting the chance to meet drew starkey. clips of you talking about him goes viral which leads him to reaching out to you.

warning(s) none!

About a month ago, your manager texted you about doing a podcast with Jake Shane, and you quickly said yes. You contacted him shortly after your managers confirmed it, expressing your excitement. Since then, you've grown closer and spent the night before the episode was filmed.

The two of you went out to dinner and got to talking about various of topics. It was a great way to get to know each other. You consider each other as friends now.

You've used social media since you were fifteen years old. You began by posting YouTube videos, and you continue to do so. Tiktok became another source of content to promote, including daily vlogs, hilarious content, and so on. Nothing would make you change it.

Everyone was getting settled before filming began. Jake started off by talking about a few topics then you came in. You were super excited about doing this.

“Welcome to Therapuss! "We've got the incredible Y/N here today," Jake says, gesturing toward you as you relax into the comfortable chair across from him. You flash your characteristic smile, which your followers enjoy. The cameras roll, but it feels natural—just another day in your life, sharing your thoughts and experiences with the world.

"Stop it!" you chuckle, shaking your head. "But seriously, Jake, thank you very much for having me. "I am a huge fan of the podcast."

"You're too kind," he replies, smiling. "So, let us dig in. You've experienced an unimaginable rise on social media. Your vlogs are really addictive, your TikToks are continuously trending, and everyone adores you. "How does it feel?"

You enjoy answering questions like this. They are your favorite because you don't always get to discuss what inspired you for doing this.

"It's surreal, honestly," you acknowledge. "I started YouTube my freshman year of high school because I wanted to look back on the moments I made. I never imagined it would turn out like this. It has been a whirlwind, but I am grateful for it."

Jake takes it all in, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. "Based on what I've seen, your content is incredibly diverse in your vlogs, TikTok, and lifestyle tips. Tell me, how do you balance all of that?" He asks, intrigued by what you do.

You respond to the question by explaining how you learned to draw boundaries over time. You prefer to keep a lot of things private that do not affect the outer world. As your audience grew, you formed a unique bond with them.

"Do you have a show you've been obsessed with lately?" Jake asks you while laughing and raising his eyebrows.

"Duh, Outer Banks pookie!" Before you laugh and toss your head back theatrically, you smirk. The statement, "I love all characters, Rafe is my favorite," leaves Jake speechless.

"Let me explain, his character is so interesting and yes, he's a psycho," you huff, putting your palms up in defense.

Jake and you keep talking about the show and his favorite show.

Jake nods in agreement. "Totally. Okay, switching gears to Pougelandia. Tell me everything."

You giggle and lean back in your chair. "Oh my goodness, that was incredible! The Outer Banks cast is as cool as they appear on television,” You gush, your excitement is evident.

Jake’s face lights up hearing you talk about the cast, “stop it that sounds so sweet, tell me more!”

You quickly point at him, “They’re so down to earth and so sweet. I got to meet practically everyone except for one person,” pouting then covering your hands with your hands.

Jake shrieks in surprise, "bitch who? "You must tell me!" He exclaims excitedly, settling into his seat.

“Drew Starkey. I was very disappointed since I'd heard he was the sweetest person, but our schedules didn't work out." you confess with a hint of disappointment. You were excited to meet him and start a conversation like you did with the rest of the cast.

Jake, of course, teased you about it, saying, “I feel like we’re setting up a rom-com here. Drew, if you’re listening, the universe is waiting.”

The remainder of the podcast you two continue to talk about various topics and even did the infamous NAME—someone will send in a question or mention something for Jake and the guest to answer the question on the podcast. There were lots of interesting questions.

A few days later, the episode is up—fans are talking about you talking about Drew and you wanting to meet him. TikTok is overloaded with clips of you talking about Drew, and your comments are full of hopeful hints about a possible meet-up.

You'd just completed editing your most recent YouTube video for your next vlog, and you were drained enough to fall asleep at your desk. The buzz of your phone buzzing from your bed, frowning but curious in who it could be.

You scream. Literally scream.

Drew Starkey followed you.

Drew Starkey sent you a message.

"Am I being punked?" Am I dreaming? "What the fuck is happening?" You ramble while holding your phone in your shaky hands and looking at the two notifications on your lock screen.

Allowing yourself to relax and compose yourself. You unlock your phone, tap on instagram, go to the messaging tab, you’re sure your jaw dropped to the floor.

Drew Starkey: Hey, I recently watched your podcast with Jake. We should get together sometime—finally make up for not meeting in Pougelandia!

What do you say?

How do you come off calmly?

Yourusername: Hi! Yes, it sounds perfect. Let me know when you’re free.

Fast forward two months later, you feel you’re still in a dream. Drew and you hung out together at a local coffee shop then went back to your place to talk more. Once you started talking you two couldn’t stop.

After hanging out the first time came more meeting ups. Drew asked you to be his girlfriend three weeks ago—you were shocked and excited all at once.

One day, while scrolling through TikTok in your kitchen, leaning on the counter, you came across the trend—wait they don't love you like I love you. You thought the trend was silly, so you decided to participate. 

You did a couple tries and posted your favorite one out of the four—not realizing Drew was in the background on his phone, unfazed about what you were doing. Your comments started blowing up.

Bestie you got some explaining to do 🤨

Causally dancing in your kitchen while Drew Starkey is walking around at the same time? Interesting

When worlds collide fr 😏

Alright where the cameras at...

I fucking knew it!!!!

⎯⎯ my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

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[callmeagardengnome]

✗ blood in the clouds ✗ | KIM HONGJOONG

pairings ✃ mafia leader! hongjoong x flight attendant! fem! reader

genre ✃ mafia au, non-idol au, SLOW BURNN

synopsis ✃

it’s finally your last day as a flight attendant. you wanted nothing more than to laze on your couch and watch netflix - just to find out that one of your passengers blew out the brains of your pilot with a gun.

in which hongjoong to hijack a plane that his rival’s daughter is on.

w.c ✃ 10.5k (yes im a yapper im sorry)

c.w ✃ dark themes, vivid descriptions of gore, guns and knives, kiss scene but no smut, use of the nickname ‘brat’, ‘pretty’ and ONE TIME - ‘princess’, your dad’s a dick oops, vulgar language, reader is smart

author’s note: this is the first oneshot of my mafia series! yes it is long but i promise you that it does eat and that you’ll enjoy it. remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, any and all feedback helps!

not proofread!

masterlist

white clouds drifted by the airplane window as the sky turned from a soft blue to a deep orange.

it would’ve been a pretty sight if it weren’t for the gun to your head.

you’d called in sick or put in your two weeks notice earlier if this was how your last day of being a flight attendant would end - but apparently, life hates you too much to let you catch a break.

HOUR 1 OF 7 - TAKEOFF

‘god- i can’t take this anymore,’ you thought to yourself. you hated waiting, despised it actually. 

after today, no more jet lag, rushed goodbyes or missing celebrations. you can finally unpack that suitcase for good, find someplace quiet and actually live in it. the thought alone was enough to keep you excited, but something bothered you at the back of your mind.

this trip didn’t feel right.

it wasn’t the plane itself, but your passengers? only 2 showed up in a plane that could seat at least 50 people. 

not that you were complaining. fewer passengers meant less work - which was a good thing. 

but the uneasiness you felt kept rising in your chest, no matter the times you tried to push it down. 

‘just 6 more hours,’ you thought. ‘then this will all be behind me.’

HOUR 2 OF 7 - MEALTIME

meal service started like any other: boring. 

after handing out the trays, you pushed the trolley back to its place and returned with beverages. you plastered on your most professional smile as you walked over to your passengers. “would you like a drink?”

the man in sunglasses turned to you lazily, his eyes shifting from the trolley to your face. “what do you have?”

you sighed, quietly but deeply. you had that stupid list engraved into your mind by now. “water, coffee, tea, coke, spri-” 

“-do you have alcohol?” he cut you off. 

your eye twitched. this dickhead.

first of all, he interrupted you. and secondly, you didn’t mention the alcohol on purpose. it was stored at the back of the plane and you did not have the energy to drag it out. 

“uh hongjoong- i mean, boss-“ the guy next to him whispered hurriedly. “i don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“-i think it is,” hongjoong interrupted before turning back to you. “where’s the menu?”

you gave him a forced smile as you pushed the alcohol menu towards him. he took his time with it, flipping through the pages slowly before finally saying, “two shots of whiskey.”

“sure thing,” you snatched the menu back. with a swift turn, you fetched the whiskey and the glasses, returning back to his seat.

you poured and placed the two shots on his tray table. he took the glass and drank it in one go, setting it back down with a thud. 

hongjoong then turned his head towards you, eyebrows raised. “what?”

you blinked. ‘what’? just ‘what’? where's the ‘thank you’? 

you were losing your mind.

“nothing,” you muttered through clenched teeth, moving away before he could ask for anything else.

grade A asshole.

HOUR 4.5 OF 7 - POINT OF NO RETURN

the shitty in-flight wifi was a joke as always. why did you even try?

with an annoyed sigh, you shoved your phone into your back pocket when suddenly-

static.

its piercing sound followed by faint garbled voices on the intercom startled you. you frowned as the sound continued, getting louder and more distorted.

with a groan, you stood up, straightening your uniform. ‘what are they doing?’ you thought as you walked towards the cockpit.

but when you passed by the first-class cabin, you paused. the seats were empty. both passengers were gone. ‘weird…’

things only got weirder as you approached the unlocked cockpit door. 

concerned, you pushed it open.

the smell hit you first - a metallic tang that twisted your stomach.

then your eyes caught up.

blood splattered the walls and windows in chaotic streaks, dripping down to the controls and the carpeted floor. the pilot and co-pilot laid in a gruesome pile to the side, the jagged holes in their skulls grotesque. 

a guy sat at the controls, steering the plane as though he wasn’t surrounded by horrors. 

grade A asshole- no, hongjoong, sat cross-legged on the floor, his sunglasses shattered at his feet. a gun rested in his hand and his lips curled into a smirk as he watched you enter.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..” you breathed out. 

pieces of brain and organ matter clung to the control panel as a simple blinking green light above that indicated that everything was, somehow, still functioning.

hongjoong tilted his head, amused. the gun shifted to point at what you now noticed was the crumpled bodies  of your pilots, their faces mangled in unrecognisable masses of flesh and bone.

“these your friends?”

you shook your head as you stepped back, wiping your sweaty hands on your uniform. hongjoong seemed to enjoy your reaction, his grin widening into something sickening. 

he smirked. “don’t worry, i won’t spoil that pretty face of yours.”

you coughed at the wretched smell as the crimson-stained carpet squelched beneath your heels, your mind begging you to leave.

“well-” you said, turning to the door. “i’m sure you don’t need me here, i’ll just-”

an audible click cut you off.

you froze.

slowly, you turned back to see a gun aimed directly at you.

“leaving so soon?” he raised an eyebrow. “let’s talk.”

HOUR 5 OF 7 - SKYDIVING DOESN’T SEEM TOO BAD

hongjoong dragged you to the first-class section to ‘talk’. it was the first time you’ve ever sat there and to be completely honest, this was not how you imagined yourself ‘enjoying’ it.

well, not like it mattered. you had other issues - like handcuffs locking you to the chair.

he stood infront of you, one hand gripping the gun while the other held a file. “‘____’, am i right?” he asked. 

you nodded slowly. “..that’s me.”

“3.6 GPA in university..” he muttered. “flunked out of med school during your first year..”

..how the hell did he get that information?

“you ended up as a flight attendant because your father owns the airline.”

“..yeah,” you reluctantly admitted, your stomach churning. “uh- was the med school part necessary?”

hongjoong ignored you, flipping to the next page. you watched his eyebrows shoot up as his eyes narrowed. “how close are you with your father?”

you blinked, confused by the weird question. “i mean- he’s my dad,” you replied. “but i haven’t seen him in years.”

“hm,” the sound came from him. hongjoong studied you for a moment longer before he spoke again, but this time, his voice was cold.

“do you know what he’s been doing during those years?”

your brows furrowed. “no, i-”

“killing. my. men.”

you didn’t even have time to process his words because he leaned forward when he said them, the gun uncomfortably close to your face. 

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “...are you sure you have the right person?”

his smirk widened into something eerie. “i have a gun pointed to you, don’t i?”

your pulse quickened. you couldn’t decide which was worse: the possibility that he was telling the truth or the fact that he was clearly enjoying your reaction.

“i always wanted to get back at that pig..” he held the gun up to the bottom of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “and look at how kind the world is- blessing me with his daughter.”

you struggled to breathe, to think. the handcuffs dug into your wrist as you unconsciously tried to break out of them, a clink against the metal arm of the chair.

your voice trembled. “..what do you want from me?”

hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. instead, he leaned in even closer, so close that you could feel your foreheads touching.

“what i want,” he said slowly, eyes locked onto yours. “is for your dad to suffer.”

HOUR 6 OF 7 - SURPRISINGLY ALIVE

the stuffiness of the plane did little to calm your nerves. you sat quietly in the seat, staring at the shattered remains of your phone on the floor.

hongjoong snatched it from your hands a few minutes ago, grumbling about how ‘you don’t need devices’. great. just great. 

the sound of the cockpit door creaking open drew your attention. the other guy - or ‘pilot’, stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “boss.”

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “what?”

the ‘pilot’ moved closer to hongjoong, lowering his voice. “air traffic control was notified of our path,” he said quietly. “they know something’s off about the plane, but i have no idea how.”

hongjoong’s eyes darkened as he processed the information. then, he glared at you, like he was accusing you.

you scoffed. “you shot my phone, how would i even contact anyone?”

for a moment, the two of you locked eyes and you swear that you could see him debating whether to believe you.

the ‘pilot’ cleared his throat. “what should we expect?” he asked nervously.

hongjoong leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “the police.”

HOUR 7 OF 7 - SHIT IS GETTING REAL

“what the hell…” you whispered to yourself as you peered out of the window.

SWAT teams and federal agents stood in rows, their weapons pointed directly at the plane. flashing lights of red and blue lit up the empty airport. 

you turned away from the window, watching hongjoong pull out a burner phone from his jacket. his fingers typed something out before he suddenly snapped the phone in half, tossing the remains on the floor. 

“…who are you?” you asked quietly.

he raised an eyebrow. “you don’t need to know, pretty.”

your survival instincts told you to move, to do something. but the second you tried to stand, hongjoong shoved you back down. 

“stay seated until we land,” he said before tilting his head. “isn’t that your job?”

you rolled your eyes, gripping the armrests as you tried to calm yourself down and steady your breathing. 

but that was when you heard it - gunshots. 

“they’re shooting us?” you panicked, flinching with each sound. 

no answer.

“hey-“ you tried again, but was cut off by the tires hitting the terrain. 

the landing was rough - harsher than anything you’ve experienced as a flight attendant. the plane rattled like never before.

your chest tightened when it rolled over something particularly large. “what was that?” your voice cracked. 

no answer. 

when the plane finally came to a halt, you barely had time to catch your breath when hongjoong moved. in a blink, he uncuffed you from the chair, only to secure the handcuffs on your wrists once more. 

he brought you to your feet, pulling you so close that you could feel his breath against your ear. “don’t do anything stupid,” he hissed. 

the cockpit door opened and the ‘pilot’ appeared. he quickly unlocked the emergency exit and you saw the makeshift ramp that had been attached to the side of the plane. 

a van rested just outside of it, hongjoong dragging you towards the vehicle. you descended the ramp, the cool air hitting your face as you looked around. 

but that was when you saw it. 

blood. 

on the wheels of the plane, the dark colour leaving a fresh trail on the ground.  

“did you..” you gulped, your voice barely above a whisper. “did you run over them?”

hongjoong glanced at you. “i didn’t,” he shrugged. “the plane did.”

you stopped in your tracks, your feet stuck rooted to the ground as you stared at him in horror. how could he say that like it was no big deal? just who was this man?

“move,” hongjoong ordered. but when you didn’t, he clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “god- you’re such a brat.”

before you knew it, you were shoved into the back of the van. the ‘pilot’ closed the door with a loud slam and sat in the driver’s seat while hongjoong took the passenger’s seat up front. 

you met hongjoong’s eyes through the rearview mirror. his glare was sharp, acting as a warning to keep your mouth shut. you didn’t need to be told twice.

the van drove forward and you caught glimpses of city lights in the distance, slowly growing closer. civilisation - maybe you could get help. 

but against your mind’s wishes, you felt your eyelids getting heavy - and you did something that no one should ever do when they’re in a car with armed strangers.

you fell asleep.

HOUR 14 OF 7 - HIP HIP HOORAY YOU’RE NOT DEAD

you heard a voice whine. “why can’t we kill her?” 

“do you want boss to kill us?” you heard another reply.

your eyes fluttered open. your head felt heavy as the room came into focus, your stomach twisting. 

the space was dingy, poorly lit by a bulb hanging from the ceiling and an unnecessarily tall lamp on the ground. the walls were stained and the air stunk of blood.

you tried to move, only to feel tight ropes against your wrists and ankles. you were tied to a chair.

“i can’t believe we have to babysit the pig’s daughter,” a man with a knife groaned.

“calm down, wooyoung,” the other one sighed.

“calm down?!” wooyoung exclaimed. “yeosang got to fly a plane! how is that fair?”

“he has a license,” the second man rolled his eyes. 

“it’s still a plane, jongho-”

“shut up,” jongho interrupted. “the girl’s awake.”

both men turned their heads to look at you, the sudden attention sending a shiver down your spine. wooyoung’s grin stretched across his face as he got to his feet, jongho following behind.

“aw look who’s finally awake,” wooyoung approached, his voice childish. “you slept like a baby- and we didn’t even drug you!”

your heartbeat quickened as he leaned in close, his grin widening as he studied your face.

“i read your file,” he began. “you’re smart…” wooyoung paused, his eyes inspecting you and your ridiculous uniform. “and hot.”

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to respond. “thank you-?”

“-what’s your favourite feature about yourself?” he asked, twirling the knife in his hands.

“uh-” your mind scrambled for an answer as he got nearer, the knife glinting. “i- my eyes?”

“your eyes,” wooyoung repeated, the grin stuck to his face. “good choice.”

he brought the knife closer, the cold steel trailing down the side of your face. you flinched as the blade hovered near your eye, your breath hitching.

“you’re going to answer all our questions,” he stated, almost in a sing-songy way. “and if you dont-”

he tilted the knife, now directly above your eyeball. “-i’ll dig those lovely pearls out of your sockets.”

your chest tightened, terror paralyzing you from head to toe. you couldn’t even breathe, every cell in your body pleading you to stay still.

“hey-” jongho tapped wooyoung on the shoulder, whispering. “uh.. boss said we can’t scratch her..”

“are you serious?” wooyoung scoffed. “then what’s the point?”

jongho bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding eye contact with his friend.

wooyoung groaned, throwing the knife to the ground with a strength that made it bend. “fuck this- torture isn’t even fun anymore.”

he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

silence was in the air until jongho cleared his throat awkwardly. he turned to face you. “uh..” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“change of plans.”

HOUR 15 OF 7 - DAY DRINKING IS FUN

you never imagined yourself in a hideout, drinking vodka with one of your captors - yet here you were. 

the whole thing felt absurd: a shaky barstool beneath you and a scuffed counter separating you and jongho. he poured you a shot he claimed was ‘very expensive’, before proceeding to chug most of the vodka from the bottle in a long gulp. 

your legs were untied now, though your wrists were still bound, the rope loose enough for your hands to rest infront of you. “what are we waiting for?” you asked. “hongjoong?”

jongho froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “don’t say his name,” he whisper-shouted.

you raised your tied wrists in apology. “okay.. what should i call him?”

“call him boss.. or mr kim.. or anything that isn’t his first name,” jongho said, his words rushed. 

you nodded slowly, looking at the man infront of you with mild concern. he looked even more scared than you did. 

then suddenly, the door slammed open. 

both you and jongho flinched, watching two figures stumble in. 

the first was a tall man - storming into the room. the second was him, hongjoong, clutching his side in pain.

“mingi- boss!” jongho panicked instantly as he ran to help the injured man. “holy- you’re hurt!”

“the pig called for backup,” mingi sighed heavily. 

you blinked, stunned as the sound of hongjoong coughing violently brought your attention back to the injured man. 

blood seeped through his fingers, staining his sleeves and skin. you don’t know what took over you, but you pushed yourself off of the barstool and rushed towards him. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” mingi stepped infront of hongjooong, his hand resting on his gun protectively. 

you glared at him. “do you want your boss to bleed out?”

mingi studied you. after what felt like ages, he exhaled sharply and stepped aside. “fine,” he muttered, keeping a hand on his weapon. 

you knelt next to hongjoong, trying to make him face you as you grabbed his arm. though, he snatched himself away from you quickly. 

you rolled your eyes. “i’m trying to help you. let me see it.”

hongjoong’s eyes pierced your soul. you could see the cogs in his head turning on whether he could trust you. 

a few moments passed before he finally faced you with a sigh, revealing a large gash on the side of his stomach - a wound created by knife. 

“i need water.” 

jongho blinked, clearly thrown off. “what?”

“to clean his wound..?” you explained. “get me water. now.”

jongho hesitated before snatching a bottle of water from a mini fridge. he pushed it to you, the little amount of liquid sloshing inside. “you should stay still for this,” you said before slowly pouring the water over the wound. 

crap- a gash this big needed a stitch. 

“untie me,” you said, holding your wrists up to your captors. 

jongho glanced at his boss worriedly for permission. hongjoong gave a small nod and jongho quickly pulled out a small knife to cut the rope. 

once free, you quickly looked around for something to stitch his wound with. when nothing looked remotely useful, your eyes dropped to your uniform - a skirt with a yarn trim. it wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

you began to unravel the yarn from the hem.

“what are you doing?” mingi asked, frowning.

“stitching him,” you sighed as your fingers worked hurriedly. “or do you want him to get an infection?”

hongjoong let out a groan, shifting uncomfortably. “just hurry.”

you finished unravelling it, but now you needed a needle. your hand instinctively reached up to your hair - pulling out a small bobby pin. it was definitely not as sharp as a needle, but you’re sure that hongjoong can handle his pain.

“shit- i need to sterilise this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“vodka,” jongho said instantly, grabbing the bottle and handing it to you.

you poured the small amount over the pin, letting it drip onto the floor. then, threading the yarn through the makeshift needle, you glanced at hongjoong.

“this will hurt,” you warned.

he looked at you with clenched teeth. “i don’t care.”

you placed a hand on his side to steady him, feeling the tension in his muscles as he tried to not flinch. carefully, you began to stitch the gash, each pull making him wince. 

when the stitching was complete, you tied the yarn and tore it off with your teeth - but the wound was still bleeding slightly.

you glanced down at your sleeves. without hesitation, you tore a strip of fabric free. you used it to dab away the excess blood, then folded the remaining fabric to wrap it around his side. 

“that should work. for now,” you sat back as you wiped your forehead with your arm.

“...you know how to treat people?” hongjoong asked, wincing slightly. 

you nodded slowly. “yeah.. i know the basics.”

“hm,” he tilted his head. “you’re more useful than i thought.”

you blinked. was a good thing or a bad thing?

“wooyoung,” he yelled out. 

a loud crash was heard in another room, followed by the muffled sounds of frantic movements. within seconds, wooyoung appeared in the doorway. 

“yes, boss?” wooyoung said out of breath, brushing off his shirt as he lookedaround the room. 

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. instead, he looked you up and down, his lips twitching into what seemed like a smirk. “get her some actual clothes. we have an event to catch.”

HOUR 17 OF 7 - WORDS TALK BUT GUNS TALK LOUDER

“woah..” your eyes took in the building before you. glittering lights and an impressive exterior that was way more extravagant than anything you imagined hongjoong to be involved in.

he parked the car, the engine coming to a stop. before you could say anything, hongjoong stepped out of the car, closing the door shut. you scrambled to follow him, your heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up.

the two of you approached the man stationed at the door - a bouncer with a pen and clipboard.

without warning, hongjoong’s hand snaked around your waist, pulling you snugly against his side. you flinched at the sudden contact, but with how tight his grip was, there was no room for protests.

“ah, mr kim,” the bouncer greeted. “you made it.”

hongjoong offered a brief, fake smile before dropping it immediately. “let us in.”

“hold on now,” the bouncer said, flipping through the papers on the clipboard. “we can’t let her inside.”

hongjoong’s brows furrowed. “why?”

“new policy,” the man sighed, pretending to sound disappointed. “no more plus-ones.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond. instead, he reached into his blazer, about to pull out a-

“nevermind!” the bouncer’s face turned pale. he stepped aside with a nervous laugh. “you’re all set- enjoy the night.”

the interior was breathtaking - chandeliers hung from high ceilings and round tables were scattered across the venue, draped in pristine white table cloths. 

“don’t eat or drink anything here.”

you blinked, nodding slowly at hongjoong’s words. “okay.. but why-”

“-and if you really want to stay alive,” he interrupted, his lips brushing your ear. “don't leave my sight.”

his voice sent a chill down your spine. “okay,” you mumbled as he brought you further into the room.

he led you to a seating area - though it looked more like a conversation pit, where an old man sat waiting. 

hongjoong released his grip on you to sit across the man, gesturing for you to follow. you hesitated briefly before settling next to him.

“mr kim,” the old man greeted gruffly. his eyes shifted to you, studying your face. “i see you brought someone.”

hongjoong gave a nod, glancing at you. “introduce yourself, brat.”

“oh uh-” you put out your hand reluctantly, forcing a polite smile. “i’m ‘____’.”

the old man’s eyes narrowed before they widened in realisation. “her father-“

“-i’m glad you noticed,” hongjoong cut in. he slowly reached into his blazer again, but this time, he actually pulled out his pistol. 

your eyes widened as he aimed it to your waist, the cold metal brushing your side. “wha-“

“w-what are you doing?” the old man’s face drained of colour, panic flashing in his eyes. 

hongjoong tilted his head. “let’s negotiate.”

“mr kim-“ the old man began, his voice cracking. “as his friend, you do understand that i have to tell him she’s here.”

“do it,” hongjoong shrugged, leaning back. his arm returned to your waist, pulling you to him as he tapped the gun against your side. 

“let’s see if he values his money more than his own daughter.”

HOUR 18 OF 7 - LIFE ISN’T FAIR

a loud crash echoed through the venue, making you jump. the sound of heavy footsteps grew violent with every second.

hongjoong’s hand tightened around your waist as he stood, dragging you up with him. “move.”

“wait-!” the old man called after you, but hongjoong didn’t stop.

his grip on you was firm, the barrel of his gun pressing against your stomach. you tripped over your feet, struggling to keep up his pace.

“where are you taking me?” you panicked as you glanced over your shoulder at the armed men closing in.

“to your father, princess,” he sneered, his voice mockingly sweet. 

“mr kim! stop right there!” 

you froze, whipping your head around. standing at the far end of the room, infront of a small army of armed men, was your father. 

“let go of my daughter,” your father ordered. he pointed a gun directly at hongjoong, his men following suit. 

your eyes glanced around the room - seeing guests cowering against the walls, some injured and others dead.

“i’m not giving up the brat until i get what i want,” hongjoong demanded.

“what you want is an impossible amount of money!” your father yelled, his grip on his gun tightening.

“impossible?” hongjoong’s eyes widened with craze. “you have more than $500 million tied to your name! did you think i’ll forget who you killed to get here?”

your blood ran cold. “dad.. you killed people?” you asked, your voice trembling as you looked at him.

for a split second, your father’s eyes softened, though that quickly disappeared with a scoff.

“if i didn’t, you wouldn’t have a roof over your head,” your father spat. “you were too stubborn to do anything after you dropped med school.”

the world seemed to tilt, your father’s words more piercing than any bullet. “but i didn’t-”

“-you did,” your father interrupted you. “i spent all that money bribing them just for you to fuck up.”

your heart sank as tears welled in your eyes. hongjoong noticed your reaction, his grip on the gun loosening slightly. 

“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t make my hostage cry,” he said. “do you really want those to be your last words to her?”

“shut up,” your father snarled, his finger close to the trigger. “i’ll say what i want. she’s too stupid to argue back anyway.”

the tears you held back spilled over and all you could hear was your dad shouting, “get her!”

HOUR 18.5 OF 7 - THEY WANT YOU SOO BAD

gunshots were heard in every direction, completely deafening. 

the pungent smell of gunpowder burned your nose as you stumbled, your legs barely holding you up. hongjoong shoved you to the ground, his hand against your back. 

“stay down,” he ordered you, raising his gun and firing without hesitation.

you flinched with every shot, watching in horror as armed men fell one by one with his aim. the world felt like it was spinning too fast and you could barely keep up.

suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm.

“stop moving!” your father yelled, his grip painful as he dragged you towards the exit.

“no!” you choked out, your heels digging into the floor in an attempt to resist. panic ran through your veins as your eyes darted around desperately.

your eyes landed on a fallen gun near your feet. you quickly snatched it, hands trembling as you tried to point it towards him.

“don’t make me do this!” you cried.

your father didn’t stop and without thinking-

-you pulled the trigger.

a bang was heard, followed by his rough scream as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his bleeding thigh.

“oh my god,” you whispered, the gun slipping from your hands as tears flowed uncontrollably down your cheeks. you sank to the floor, staring at the blood pouring out of him.

“you bitch!” he shouted in pain.

out of the corner of your eye, you caught hongjoong watching you, something strange flashing across his face. was that.. surprise? pride? maybe he was impressed?

hongjoong fired a shot at an armed man without looking, moving to you quickly. 

“didn’t think you had it in you, pretty,” he looked over his shoulder. “but we need to leave.”

he led you to a small janitor’s closet near the exit. the narrow space smelled of bleach, but at least it was quiet.

hongjoong shut the door behind you and dusted off his blazer. without a word, his dark eyes inspected you, checking your shoulders and arms.

you stood motionless, too shocked to stop him as he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb wiping away the mascara-stained tears from your cheeks.

“nothing broken,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “no scars either..”

he pulled out a burner phone, typing something quickly.

“i- i just shot my dad,” your shoulders shook as new tears welled up in your eyes.

hongjoong glanced up from the phone, meeting your eyes. “..are you bragging?” he asked bluntly.

“what? he’s my dad-”

“-and he’s a dick,” hongjoong cut you off. “you might share blood, but that man clearly hates you.”

you hiccuped, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “...am i going to hell?”

hongjoong scoffed. “come on-“ he began, but stopped himself when he looked at you and the tears spilling from your eyes. “you didn’t kill him… you’re fine.” 

you opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you as he continued typing. “and even if you did,” he added. “you’re doing the world a favour.”

he smashed the burner phone onto the ground, discarding the pieces. he reloaded his pistol before turning back to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he led you through bodies and debris.

outside, a black van waited by the curb. hongjoong pushed you inside before climbing in after you, slamming the door shut behind him.

“drive,” he ordered.

as the street lights went past you, you slumped in your seat, completely exhausted. “where are we going?” you asked softly.

hongjoong studied you for a moment, watching your eyelids go heavy. “...go to sleep, brat.”

DAY 2 - OH HONEY I'M HOME

you woke up with a jolt. you sat up from the couch you laid down on, completely disoriented. your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. the hideout. 

relief and fear spread within you. you were safe - for now.

just then, a knock from the doorway made you jump. “didn’t mean to scare you,” a man said, leaning against the frame. “boss wanted me to check on you.”

you blinked. “i- okay,” you coughed to clear your throat, wincing at how dry it felt.

“i’ll let him know you’re awake.”

and with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone once more.

though that didn’t last long. moments later, hongjoong entered. he carried a stool over, setting it down across from you before sitting. 

“how long did i sleep?” you asked hoarsely.

“a day,” he replied with a shrug.

your eyes widened. it was only then you noticed your attire - a baggy t-shirt replacing the outfit you were wearing before.

“who changed me?” you blurted out, heat rising to your cheeks.

“i did,” hongjoong answered. he noticed your flustered expression, tilting his head. “what?”

“did you-” you cleared your throat. “did you see anything?”

“i’m not a pervert,” he scoffed. “if it makes you feel better, you were changed in the dark.”

you fell into an awkward, heavy silence as you sat across each other. for the first time, there was no danger, no gunfire or anyone yelling out orders. just silence.

“your dad..” hongjoong began, speaking up. “wants you dead.”

“...what?”

he held up a cassette tape, tossing it onto the table between you, your hands trembling as you picked it up. hongjoong then brought out a cassette tape player, allowing you to hear your father’s voice.

‘mr kim, we’ve had our ups and downs, but i’m sure that we can agree on one thing - that bitch who shot my thigh is a liability. an idiot that made it this far because of me. she’s no longer my responsibility or family, so expect to find her head on a stick when you turn your back. have fun.’

“what the fuck..” you whispered shakily as it came to an end. 

“to be honest, your only purpose was to be a hostage.” hongjoong’s fingers drummed the edge of the stool. “and now that he doesn’t want you.. you’re useless-”

the world around you crumbled, his words making you feel worse. 

“-to him.”

your eyes widened, looking at him in confusion.

“you’re smart,” he shrugged. “and you stitched me.”

you blinked. “…where are you going with this?” 

“i want you to be an addition to my team,” he replied.

“do i have to kill people?” you blurted out. “or steal, or-”

“no,” hongjoong raised a hand to cut you off. “all you’ll be doing is treating my injured men. quite the opposite of killing.”

you frowned, furrowing your eyebrows. “why would you trust me with that?”

“because,” he said, leaning forward. “you have nowhere else to go.”

“that’s not true-”

“really?” hongjoong smirked. “do you know how many businesses your dad owns?”

you shook your head.

“more than 80% in the country,” his eyes sparkled with something dark. “now that you’ve shot him, you’ve burnt every bridge he’s built for you.”

your jaw dropped. “but-”

“no job, no family, nowhere to live either since he owns most of the real estate here.”

you stared at him, struggling to process his words.

“here’s my offer,” hongjoong continued. “you get a decent amount of money, a place to live and protection...”

“...just to treat people?” you asked in disbelief.

he nodded. 

you bit your lip, staring at the floor as you picked at your nails. how could your dad do this to you? abandoning you just like that? and now he wanted you dead? you could feel yourself getting angry just thinking about him.

after a long moment, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “deal.” 

MONTH 1 - FAMILY BONDING 

that evening, you sat on the floor with san, wooyoung and yeosang, eating a batch of cheap instant noodles. it was a little awkward - mostly because you just joined, but you were silently appreciating their efforts to make small talk with you. 

suddenly, a loud bang was heard through the hideout. the three men jumped up immediately, pulling guns and knives from who knows where. 

“back entrance?” wooyoung asked as he sharpened his knives. 

your heart raced as you watched the three of them shift into combat mode - and you caught yourself lagging behind. you hurriedly stood up and grabbed the medical kit you kept close. 

“stay here,” san said firmly. 

you shook your head. “if someone’s injured, i’m coming.”

the three of them shared a look before yeosang gave you a reluctant nod. “…just stay behind us. we’ll get in trouble if you get hurt.”

they moved swiftly and silently through the narrow halls of the hideout, weapons in hand. you trailed closely, your heart pounding as you gripped the medical kit tightly. 

when you reached the back entrance, san motioned you to stay back while they checked the door. 

the signs of forced entry were obvious - the lock was broken and scuff marks lined the floor. 

wooyoung scoffed, speaking under his breath. “stupid piglets.”

yeosang sighed. “looks like they took a few weapons and left.”

“are they testing us?” san asked, inspecting a footprint on the ground. 

before anyone could respond, the door slammed open making all of you jump. you turned to see mingi, his chest heaving as he leaned against the door frame. 

“meeting. now.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the hideout’s ‘meeting room’ was more of a cramped closet with mismatched chairs and a comically large table in the middle. hongjoong paced at the end of the room, his jaw clenched. 

“we can’t stay here any longer,” he began. “it’s only a matter of time before they come back in full force.”

hongjoong stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “we need to move back to our old apartments. they’re scattered enough to keep us hidden until we figure out our next move.”

you shifted uncomfortably. 

hongjoong noticed this. “what?” he asked, his sharp eyes landing on you. 

“i uh-“ you hesitated. “i don’t have a home..” you said sheepishly. 

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. 

“my dad owns the house,” you admitted. “and that’s not really an option anymore.”

“right,” hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “shit..”

“alright, who has space?” he clapped, glancing around the room. 

everyone exchanged uneasy looks. 

“we don’t,” yeosang said, gesturing to himself, san, wooyoung and jongho. “the four of us are already crammed into one place.”

“same here,” yunho spoke up. “mingi and i barely fit in ours.”

hongjoong turned to seonghwa, his face hopeful. 

“no,” seonghwa said without hesitation. 

a heavy sigh escaped hongjoong as he pinched the bridge of his nose. he leaned against the table, deep in thought. 

minutes stretched into what felt like hours before hongjoong finally spoke up. “you’re coming with me,” he said, looking directly at you. 

your eyes widened in surprise. “..what?”

“you’re staying at my place.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the car sped down the (somewhat) empty highway, the faint smell of vanilla from the air freshener mixing with the lingering scent of old fast food. 

you gripped the edge of your seat as the streetlights ran by the window in a blur. “are we in a rush?” you nervously glanced at hongjoong. 

“no,” he replied flatly. 

there was a black car beside you that had been keeping pace for the past few minutes - and just as you shifted in your seat, it suddenly swerved infront of your car and slammed the brakes. 

“what the-” you barely managed to say before the impact. the car jolted violently as it hit the one ahead, the sound of metal crunching loud. 

hongjoong let out a low string of curses under his breath. his face was weirdly calm as he unbuckled his seatbelt, stepping out of the car without a word. 

“wait-” you scrambled to undo your own seatbelt. 

from your seat, you saw him approaching the car. the moment he glanced inside, his eyes widened. he reached for his gun and pulled the trigger instantly. 

the loud gunshot made you flinch and your stomach twisted as you saw the slumped figure in the driver’s seat, blood splattered across the windshield. 

your heart pounded as you stumbled out of the car, rushing towards him. “why did you do that?!”

hongjoong turned to you, his jaw clenched. “it was a piglet.”

“wha-“ your eyes drifted to the body, a shiver going down your spine as you saw the bullet hole clean through the skull. 

hongjoong, completely unfazed, went back to the car. you stared at the lifeless body for a moment longer before hurriedly following him. 

once you were back inside, you swallowed the lump in your throat, attempting to break the suffocating silence. “….how did you know he was a piglet?”

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. his fingers flexed against the steering wheel as he glanced at you. 

“they have a bullet tattoo..” he said finally, pulling down his collar to point to his collarbone. “..right here.”

you blinked. “oh.”

“if you ever come across one,” he continued. “kill them on sight.”

your eyes widened, your throat tightening. “what about the police?”

he fell silent for a second, his eyes fixed on the road. then, a faint smirk crossed his face. “you don’t need to worry about them.”

his answer left you unsettled, but before you could question him further, the apartment building came into view. it was modern - standing tall with the city skyline. 

hongjoong smoothly pulled into the parking lot. the abruptness of the stop sent you forward, but his hand shot out instinctively, pressing against you to keep you steady. 

“sorry,” he muttered, his voice soft - though he didn’t look at you as he retracted his arm. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

some might describe hongjoong’s apartment as ‘minimalistic’, but to you, it’s just an excuse for a grown man to avoid decorating. 

the walls were devoid of any art or family photos, the kitchen was spotless - though it was definitely untouched with how there was almost no food in the fridge. and from what you saw, the only source of entertainment was a lone TV. 

“do you..” you began, looking around the bare space. “do you even live here?”

hongjoong ignored your comment and walked towards the big couch and began to pull it into a makeshift bed. the springs creaked slightly as he unfolded it. “this is where you’ll be sleeping,” he said, dusting himself off. 

“cool.”

“don’t complain-“ he stopped himself mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes when he realised what you said. “wait, you’re okay with this?”

you blinked. “…yeah?”

“hm,” he said, slightly surprised. he looked you up and down before turning to the long hallway. “get some rest, we’re getting you a phone tomorrow.”

MONTH 2 - LIVE LAUGH LOVE GUNS

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be long before the piglets attacked you again. 

hongjoong sent you on a simple supply run - nothing unusual. but as you stood in the small pharmacy, you felt the air shift when the cashier’s demeanour turned cold. 

it all happened so fast. 

the moment you saw the gun aimed at your chest, your eyes fell to the faint outline of a bullet tattoo peeking out from his collarbone. great. 

your breath hitched as your body moved on impulse. you barely avoided the first shot as you ducked behind the display rack. 

the pharmacy was strangely empty, no one else to intervene. your heart pounded as the sounds of footsteps and gunshots echoed. 

fumbling with your phone, you dialed every number you could think of. yet, no one answered. 

your hands trembled as you typed hongjoong’s number, your last resort. 

he picked up after one ring. 

“this better be important, brat,” he grumbled, groggy like he just woke up. 

“i need help-” you semi-yelled as you narrowly dodged another shot, darting behind the counter. “i’m getting attacked-”

“-send your location,” hongjoong interrupted. “i’m on my way.”

the line went dead before you could respond. 

you sent your location and shoved the phone back into your pocket. the cashier reloaded the gun, his footsteps growing louder. and just as you moved, he charged. 

he grabbed you, trying to pin you down. you barely managed to fight back, until you made an educated attack - kicking him in the groin. 

he groaned, stumbling back. you took the opportunity to snatch the gun from his hands. 

you pointed it at him, your hands shaking. “stay back,” your voice cracked. 

the man scoffed. “over my dead body,” he lunged at you again. 

your finger moved instinctively, pulling the trigger. 

once. 

twice. 

again and again and again. 

the sound of gunfire rang in your ears, the recoil sending waves through your arms. you didn’t stop until you heard a clicking noise that meant that the gun was empty. 

when you opened your eyes, he was no longer standing. 

you looked down, the cashier laying sprawled on the ground, the concrete dark with blood. bullet holes littered his body, evidence of your frantic shots. 

you dropped to your knees, your chest heaving. you reached out to check his pulse. nothing.

you just took someone’s life. 

your eyes fell to your hands, bloody and shaking. from young, you always wanted to save lives - not take them. tears fell from your eyes, blurring your vision. 

the door slammed open. 

hongjoong stood in the doorway. he took in the body on the floor and your frozen form in a single glance. he sighed, stepping in. 

“come on, let’s go,” he crouched to grab your arm. 

you couldn’t move, your eyes fixed on the lifeless body. 

“hey,” his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face to meet his. his eyes were intense, his touch warm against your cold skin. “we need to leave before more show up. you don’t want to kill anyone else, do you?”

you shook your head quickly. 

he pulled you to your feet, wrapping his arm around yours as he guided you to his car. the ride back was silent as you stared out of the window. 

and before you knew it, you were back at his apartment. 

you hesitated at the door, unable to bring yourself to step inside. 

hongjoong sighed, grabbing your wrist as he tugged you in. he tossed his gun and his keys in the kitchen counter before turning to you. 

“go take a long shower. i’ll be in the living room.”

you nodded, moving to the bathroom in a daze. 

the water was scalding as it hit your skin. no amount of soap or scrubbing would ever make you feel clean from the bloodied-stains. every part of your body felt foreign - even your puffy eyes and lips.

once you were done, you dressed in the softest clothes you had, hoping that it would provide you with some form of comfort (it didn’t).

the pull-out couch was prepared with brand-new pillows and fluffy blankets when you returned to the living room. hongjoong sat on the edge, gesturing for you to sit. you sank down beside him. 

the silence stretched on until it became unbearable. 

you spoke up, your voice barely audible. “…i killed someone.”

“you did,” he nodded. “good job.”

your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “i killed someone.”

“and so have i,” hongjoong leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “does that bother you?”

“i…”

he leaned back. “it should. the first time always does.”

“i don’t think i can do this,” you breathed out shakily. “i don’t want to hurt people..”

the two of you locked eyes for what felt like ages. you could see hongjoong’s adam's apple bob up and down, his jaw tightening slightly. “no one wants to hurt people,” he replied softly. 

you blinked. 

“i shouldn’t have sent you out alone, especially with your dad targeting you,” he sighed. “that’s on me.”

“but-”

“-though i do have to say, this made me realise how.. unprepared you are,” he continued.

your eyebrows furrowed. 

“if you want to survive, you need to know how to defend yourself,” he drummed his fingers against the couch. “...you’re off supply runs. from now on, you’re training with the others.”

you stared at him. “what?”

“the rest have some ‘schedule’ for training. i’m sure you can join without any problems.”

you hesitated. the thought of the blood, the body, the gun in your hands made you nauseous. the idea of training scared you. 

he noticed this, his eyes softening slightly. “you won’t be a killer, just someone capable of self-defense.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. finally, you nodded, your voice small. “okay.”

MONTH 3 - LET’S GO GAMBLING!

the casino was glitzy and loud with copyright-free music, its neon lights casting eerie shadows on the dark streets outside. 

“you three, cover left. you two, check the vault. the rest of you will stay near the exit,” hongjoong ordered.

you waited for your assignment, expecting to be grouped with someone. instead, hongjoong said, “you’re with me.”

you sighed. “alright.”

you followed hongjoong to the right side of the casino, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the space. he moved silently, keeping his gun concealed but ready. you tried to mimic his focus, clutching the knife wooyoung lent you earlier.

the first sign of trouble came when the alarms blared.

armed men swarmed into the casino. piglets.

hongjoong moved first, taking them down in a single shot. you ducked behind a pillar, your heart pounding.

the fight moved fast. hongjoong was precise - he wasn’t even touchable, killing the men easily.

but that was when you saw it before he did: a piglet creeping up behind him, raising and aiming the gun to his head.

“boss!”

without hesitation, you hurled wooyoung’s knife to the piglet.

the knife pierced and plunged into his neck, causing the man to fall, his gun clattering to the ground. 

hongjoong whipped his head around with wide eyes, shooting the man infront of him before spinning to kill the piglet you just hit.

the silence that followed was deafening.

hongjoong’s breathing was heavy as he lowered his weapon. he dusted his clothes off, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

he gulped, finally speaking up. “...good job, pretty.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

slowly, everyone regrouped in the corner, collapsing onto the floor in a circle. bottles of water were passed around as everyone caught their breaths.

for a while, no one spoke, the only sounds being an occasional groan.

“hey,” wooyoung hiccuped, breaking the silence as he turned to you. “give me my knife back.”

you looked at him awkwardly before handing him his completely bloody and dented knife - basically ruined.

“what the hell!” he exclaimed. “that was one of my favourites!”

you shrugged. “you shouldn’t have given it to me then.”

“i didn’t know you were actually gonna use it,” wooyoung complained. “i thought you would just watch.”

“you’re such a dick,” you rolled your eyes.

wooyoung leaned in closer - his voice annoyingly sweet. “aw, don’t be mad, sweetheart. i’ll get you a better knife- one that won’t bend in your delicate fucking hands.”

“shut up,” you groaned, shoving him lightly as the others chuckled.

hongjoong leaned against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest. his eyes shifted from wooyoung to you. 

his chest tightened in a now-familiar way: you’re fitting in too well.

it wasn’t jealousy - at least, that’s what he told himself. it was about control. your presence was a distraction he didn’t account for. but the others took you in so easily, which was technically a good thing, right?

and yet...

why did his stomach twist every time one of them smiled at you?

hongjoong blinked, realising how his leg was bouncing restlessly. he forced himself to stop, sighing deeply.

“you good, boss?” yunho asked.

hongjoong paused. “...i’m fine.”

yunho raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, turning away.

hongjoong’s eyes returned to you. you were leaning a little too close to yeosang now, laughing at some joke wooyoung said - sending a strange pang through his chest.

why did this bother him so much?

you weren’t doing anything wrong. you were building trust, meshing with the group - just like he expected.

but this wasn’t about the group, was it?

he frowned, thinking. you stitched him right after he kidnapped you, you saved him from getting shot even though you were definitely not ready to fight.

what has he ever done for you?

introduced you to a world of crime? to a world of killing, stealing and hatred? accidentally ruined the relationship between you and your dad?

hongjoong closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

shit.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

without bothering to change, you sank into the pull-out couch - exhaustion pulling you to it like gravity.

you heard hongjoong locking the door behind him, the soft click sounding loud in the quiet apartment. his footsteps shuffled toward the kitchen, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing reaching your ears. you were way too tired to look.

you didn’t realise you drifted off until you were awoken by something heavy on your body.

your eyes fluttered open groggily. for a moment, you thought you were dreaming. hongjoong was in the middle of draping a large blanket on you.

“what are you doing?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

his eyes darted to yours briefly. “nothing.”

you frowned, shifting to sit up - but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pressing you gently back down. “sleep.”

you let out a quiet sigh. “shouldn’t you be sleeping?” you muttered.

he paused, his jaw tensing. “....tomorrow onwards, you’re training with me.”

you stared at him, stunned. before you could even say anything, he turned and walked away without a word.

…did your boss just tucked you in?

MONTH 3.5 -  PUNCH, KICK, SNARE

“again,” hongjoong said, slightly out of breath. 

the living room felt smaller than usual with the two of you moving around. the coffee table and couch was pushed aside, leaving just enough space to practice your punches without tripping over the furniture. he claimed training here would teach you how to ‘fight in tight quarters’.

he sighed. “your moves are sloppy.”

you groaned, shaking your aching wrists. “i’m trying.”

“that’s not enough when someone’s aiming a gun at your head,” he replied, stepping back and raising hands. “your punches are too weak and your balance is all over the place. reset your stance.”

you rolled your eyes but obeyed, repositioning your feet. it wasn’t the first time you’ve heard those words from him.

hongjoong moved closer, tapping your wrist. “keep your guard up. always.”

you threw another punch, but it barely made his hands move. he lowered them, sighing. “that’s not going to hurt anyone-“

“-i’m doing my best, okay?” you snapped. “i’m not a fast learner.”

his eyes softened for a moment before narrowing again. “that’s not an excuse when your life is on the line.”

you tsked. he was right of course, but that didn’t make it easier to hear.

“again.”

you tried once more, throwing a combination of punches that he blocked with ease. when you attempted a kick, you stumbled, nearly losing your footing.

he caught you instinctively, his hands steadying you.

“watch your balance,” he said automatically, going on a tangent on how training is important and blahblahblah. 

you tried to focus on your surroundings, on the words he was saying, but it was hard to ignore the proximity between you. the smell of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of sweat in the room. his touch wasn’t rough or aggressive like you’d expect - it was gentle.

your eyes drifted to his face, catching the faint scars along his cheekbones and jawline. were those always there? or was this the first time you really noticed?

his brows furrowed, likely in frustration at your lack of response, but the concern in his eyes snapped you back into reality, making you realise that you were staring the whole time.

“i don’t think i’m cut out for this,” the words spilled out before you could stop them.

hongjoong paused, his lips parting slightly - he wasn’t  expecting you to say that. for a moment, he was silent. he then leaned in, his eyes piercing. 

“you don’t get to quit.”

the intensity of his voice made you forget about the aches in your muscles and the sweat dripping down your back. his words weren’t angry - they were commanding. 

“why do you even care?” you whispered, barely audible.

his grip on your arms loosened slightly, his eyes searching yours for what felt like eternity. then out of nowhere, he stepped back, clearing his throat as he avoided your gaze. “take five,” he mumbled, walking to the kitchen.

MONTH 5 - BLOOD, BLOOD AND MORE BLOOD

the office building looked ordinary. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was just another corporate HQ. but you knew better.

and so did hongjoong.

you held up the new knife wooyoung gave you, one that wasn’t as pretty as the last. it was finally the day you ambushed your dad, the man that’s been wanting you dead for months.

you looked up to face hongjoong. “i don’t want to see it,” you said suddenly.

he raised an eyebrow. “see what?”

“when you kill him. my dad,” you clarified, your throat tightening. “i’m.. okay with it, but i don’t want to see it.”

his eyes studied you. after a moment, he nodded. “make sure to stay close to me,” he said before turning to the building.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the group slipped into the building through the side. hongjoong led the way, gripping his pistol tightly as you stayed close behind him.

“elevators are too risky,” hongjoong looked back at the group. “we’ll take the stairs.”

the group nodded, their weapons drawn as they moved quietly through the halls. the fluorescent lights did nothing to mask the sinister aura that was buried in the walls.

when you reached the stairwell, the sound of footsteps echoing above sent everyone into high alert.

the first shot rang out.

gunfire filled the stairwell. the air was thick with smoke and gunfire. you pressed yourself against the wall, trying to avoid all of the attacks happening around you. you tried to go in to fight but-

-someone grabbed you.

you struggled, twisting out of their grasp. but before you could scream, a hand clamped over your mouth, dragging you away. “stay still.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the stench forced your eyes open - a horrid mix of stale cigar smoke and alcohol. the office was dimly lit and your father crouched infront of you, his face smug as he cornered you.

“you think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he sneered.

you glared at him, your heart pounding. “fuck off.”

a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “you’ve gotten worse since you joined that boy,” he spat. “should i cut off your tongue? unhinge your jaw? or maybe i’ll be basic and shoot you.”

“you’re insane,” your stomach twisted. “it’s hard to believe we’re related, especially with how ugly you are.”

“you-”

before he could finish, you jammed wooyoung’s knife into his other thigh, dragging it down to create a large gash. he let out a guttural scream, stumbling into a desk as his pants turned a dark red.

you moved quickly, scrambling out of the corner, but two piglets grabbed you before you could get far.

“stupid bitch,” your father hissed, forcing himself up as he took out the knife in his thigh, looking directly at you. “you’re going to regret that.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

as hongjoong shot another piglet with his pistol, he looked around the haze, searching for a certain someone. “where’s ‘____’?” he asked.

the group stayed silent.

“shit- we don’t know,” wooyoung said nervously.

hongjoong’s face darkened - and without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby piglet by the collar, slamming him against the wall. “where’s your boss?” he snarled.

the piglet squirmed. “i- i have a family!”

hongjoong’s grip on his collar tightened, his eyes widening scarily. “then bring me to him.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“your mother should’ve gotten the abortion,” your father said before settling down infront of you, the bloody knife close to your face. “then my money wouldn’t be wasted on cunts like you.”

“i’m surprised that you got a woman like her to fuck you,” you breathed out shakily as the blade hit your skin. 

“i guess you inherited her bitchiness.”

the door burst open as the knife grazed your skin. hongjoong stepped in, his gun raised. “let go of her,” he ordered.

the piglets hesitated, glancing between your father and hongjoong. your father’s hand didn’t move, a scar forming on your face. 

“you want her that badly?” your father asked mockingly. “you’re becoming soft.”

hongjoong didn’t answer. instead, he moved faster than you thought was possible, shooting the two piglets that held you with ease.

the bodies hit the ground - causing your father to shove you harshly against the wall. pain shot through your body as you heard something crack.

hongjoong froze, his pistol trained on your dad. 

“stay back,” your father warned, hovering the blade near your temple.

hongjoong’s jaw clenched. he dropped his gun slightly, making your father relax.

but then hongjoong lunged.

the fight was brutal, all punches and grunts. you slumped against the wall, your cheek bleeding uncontrollably as every part of your body ached.

after what felt like ages, hongjoong finally gained the upper hand, pinning your dad down as he pointed the gun to his head. but then his eyes landed on yours, wide and terrified - making him freeze.

“shit,” he cursed under his breath, lowering the gun. he turned and rushed to you, pulling you into his arms.

your father tried to crawl away, but hongjoong didn’t let him go far. with you in his embrace, he covered your eyes and ears tightly as the sound of a singular gunshot echoed in the room.

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. his hand cradled the back of your head, his touch soft. “it’s over,” he whispered as you sobbed.

you shook your head against his chest, the salt in your tears stinging the cut on your cheek. “i almost died.”

“i know,” he said softly. “but i wouldn’t let that happen.”

his words settled over you like a warm blanket. you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his face. you could feel the heat of his body as he kept you close.

hongjoong shifted, his hands moving to your shoulders as he looked at you carefully. his thumb brushed over your scar, wiping away the trail of blood on your face.

“you’re shaking,” his eyebrows furrowed. “you need to breathe.”

“i’m trying.”

he reached for a nearby chair and pulled it over, guiding you to sit. hongjoong crouched infront of you, your hands trembling in his.

“you’re safe,” his eyes locked onto yours. “i’ve got you.”

something inside you cracked at his words - and tears spilled once more. hongjoong didn’t say anything, but his presence was enough. he stayed crouched infront of you, letting you take all the time you needed.

when you finally looked up, there was something unspoken in his eyes - a mix of guilt and relief that made your heart ache. “...thank you,” you whispered.

his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words never came. instead, he nodded slowly, his grip on your hands tightening for a moment before letting go.

at that moment, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you. your lips brushed against his, just enough to make his entire body stiffen.

for a second, you thought you made a mistake. his hands paused midair and his breathing hitched.

but then, he moved. to you. 

his hands cupped your face gently, pulling you closer into a kiss. it was slow at first, but when you gripped his shirt tightly - the feelings he’d been keeping were let loose.

his lips pressed against yours with urgency. his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you like you might disappear if he let go. 

you responded instinctively. your hands found his neck, his jaw - brushing over them softly in a way that made him groan. “fuck- you’re so pretty.”

the world around you spun in swirls of blood, smoke and cologne, overwhelming you in a way that made you lose your breath.

hongjoong broke away for a moment, panting slightly. his lips curled into a smirk, before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense. it was grounding, reassuring and impossibly warm.

when the two of you pulled back, his thumb traced your scar. “this..” he began quietly. “..this isn’t what i expected tonight.”

you let out a soft, shaky laugh. “me neither.”

he pecked your forehead as he stood up, his legs slightly wobbly from the kiss. hongjoong held out a hand, helping you to your feet. “...let’s go home.”

series taglist - @hanoishere @scuzmunkie @sinfullygay @arusio @midnightrebel1028 @neemaxx @seungminsrighthand @arilevenatz @ateezswonderland @beabatiny @lemirabitur @sunnyhokyu @frzzenfrxg @cylovesmg @txtsoobean @seonghwasslytherin @sundaybossanova @sweetinsaniiity @cybrnaya @choisanchwego @mrskill2

BONUS SCENE - MINE

the apartment was quiet as you laid on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling. sleep wasn’t coming - your mind was too busy replacing the events earlier.

the memory of hongjoong’s arms around you stayed, along with the feeling of his lips on yours. how could a man as dangerous as him bring you such comfort?

a soft knock against the wall broke the silence.

you sat up slowly, seeing hongjoong standing in the hallway. his hair was slightly damp and he wore a loose black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. he hesitated before walking to you, his movements weirdly awkward.

“...you okay?” you asked the nervous man.

he shrugged, trying to play it off as he sat next to you. “i’m fine. you?”

“i’ve been better.”

there was a pause as the two of you stared at each other, the silence heavy. finally, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“i’ve been thinking..” hongjoong trailed off.

“uh-oh.”

“i-it’s not a bad thing-” he said hurriedly. “it’s just that.. tonight made me think about a lot of things.”

you tilted your head, confused.

his voice softened as he continued. “but this isn’t just about tonight. it’s about.. everything. i don’t want you to feel.. unsafe all the time.”

“i don’t,” you said instantly, but you’re not sure how much you believed yourself.

he leaned back slightly, reaching into his hoodie pocket. when his hand reappeared, it was holding a pistol - his pistol, sleek and black.

“take this,” he held it out to you.

you blinked, staring at the weapon. “what? why?”

“because it’s mine,” he replied simply leaving no room for argument. “and now, it’s ours.”

you hesitated, your hand hovering over the gun. “i.. i barely know how to use this.”

“then i’ll teach you.”

you looked up at him, searching his face for answers. “...why are you giving this to me?”

you noticed the way his eyes darted down as you looked at him, his fingers tightening around the pistol as he pushed it to you. 

“because,” hongjoong began quietly. “i trust you.”

your fingers paused before finally closing around the gun. the cold metal felt deadly in your grasp, but the way his eyes lit up made your heart swell.

“you trust me..?” you asked softly, a faint smile on your face. “hongjoong..”

his usual composure faltered as you said his name, a blush dusting his face. he swallowed the lump in his throat, gathering himself. “you’re not just a part of the group,” he said. “you’re more than that. to me.”

your eyebrows shot up, completely stunned. “...i don’t know what to say.”

“say yes.”

you blinked. “yes to what?”

“to being mine,” hongjoong’s hands fidgeted slightly.

your heart raced as you heard his words. a wide smile spread across your face as you realised what he was really asking.

“are you..” you paused. “are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

his breath got caught in his throat as he nodded. “yeah.”

the man that was the literal leader of an entire gang, was sitting nervous infront of you. it was a funny sight to see, but you brought yourself back to reality, answering his question.

“yes.”

a wave of relief washed over his face as he let out the breath he seemed to be holding. he reached out, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he leaned closer. “wanna sleep in my bed tonight?”

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[elikajinnie]

P: Situationship!Heeseung X Fem!Reader (recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Situationship, Hurt/Comfort, Suggestive Content, Tension, Flirting, Mature Content, Pursuing, Possessive & Needy Behaviour, Jealousy if you squint, Alcohol Consumption, Mentioned Drug Use.

Wordcount: 22k

Synopsis: For years, Lee Heeseung had been in your life—never close enough to be a friend but too familiar to be a stranger. You told yourself you weren’t interested, that he didn’t matter to you. But Heeseung had other plans cause he made it his mission to claim your attention—and eventually your heart. But love is never easy.

a/n: was watching the iconic Kuch Kuch Hota Hai when this idea came! (dont ask how) i also wanted to try something new with the title. (disclaimer! some of the scenes are written from experience)

now playing: truth or dare by tyla | friends by chase atlantic | awkward by sza | bloodline by ariana grande | twenty nights by nobu woods | gi faen by ballinciaga

School hierarchy never interested you—peaking in high school, the whole "king of the cafeteria" nonsense. Why would it? None of that mattered after graduation. You always thought it was a waste of time, all those petty dramas and desperate attempts to be remembered as something more than ordinary.

And yet, somehow, you were known, not because you clamored for attention or played into the social games everyone else seemed obsessed with, but because...well, you were you. Quiet, maybe. Not invisible, though. People knew your name, knew your face, even if you couldn’t recall theirs at times. Maybe it was the way you never fumbled over your words when teachers called on you or the way your presence seemed calm. You didn’t try to stand out, but you were noticed, even if you never asked for it.

Made you wonder what made you noticed.

And that question was solved pretty quickly, to be honest. All because you knew Heeseung since you were young.

And Heeseung? Heeseung was everything you’d expect from someone at the top of the high school food chain. Popular, effortlessly so. Basketball captain, the school’s golden boy, practically born to be the main character in someone’s coming-of-age movie. But beyond all that, he was still totally derpy—the same kid who used to trip over his own feet at recess, the one who cried when you beat him in hide-and-seek because he hid in the most obvious spot.

He hadn’t changed much, really. Sure, he had a little more swagger now, a charm that made people laugh at his terrible jokes instead of groan, but to you, he was just Heeseung.

You’d laugh every time someone brought him up to you, trying to see if you’d spill some secret about what he was like outside of the spotlight. “You’re friends with Heeseung, right?” they’d say, voices dipping into curiosity or jealousy. And you’d shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. Because to you, it wasn’t.

But somehow, knowing him—having that tether to someone like him—had put you on the radar, too. Even if you weren’t part of his crowd, even if you didn’t sit with him at lunch or go to the parties he got dragged to, people noticed you because he noticed you.

And that was the funny thing, wasn’t it? You never cared about being seen, but Heeseung never stopped looking for you in a room.

You were never really interested in initiating anything with him, even if he was very much 100% interested in initiating something with you.

He’d find you in the hallways, leaning casually against the wall, as if it was second nature for him to cage you in, corner you with a smile that made everything around you feel like it had slowed down. He’d ask you about your day, always interested in the little details you never thought anyone would care about. “Are you busy some day?” he’d ask, eyes sparkling, as if he was hinting at something more—something he probably expected you to say yes to.

Other times, he’d slide into the seat next to you in class, talking about his upcoming game like it was an invitation in itself. “You should come watch,” he'd say with that grin, the one that could melt anyone into agreeing. "I’ll even give you my jersey after I win.”

And then there were the parties—he’d invite you to those too, always the center of attention but always making sure you knew you were welcome. Sometimes he’d just come right up to you, all charm and boldness, flirting with you shamelessly, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your skin. His presence was so intense, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t help but get those butterflies in your stomach, no matter how much you wanted to stay calm.

And yet, despite all of it—the smiles, the promises, the hints of something more—you rejected his advances.

Every. Single. One.

You couldn’t let yourself get caught up in it. You wouldn’t. Even if every part of you, every part of your mind and heart, screamed to take a chance, to let yourself fall into whatever Heeseung was offering, you pushed him away.

Mostly because you knew what type of person he was now. You saw how he was with other women in school, how effortlessly he had them wrapped around his finger, how they would come to him at the snap of his finger, eyes wide and eager for whatever he had to offer. They were drawn to him like moths to a flame, following him like he was the sun and they were planets orbiting around him. And, honestly, it was hard not to see the way his charm worked, how his attention seemed to shift from one girl to the next as if it was all just a game.

A game that you weren’t interested in playing.

You weren’t just going to be another face in the crowd, another person who would fall for his flirtations, get swept up in the thrill of his attention only to be tossed aside when someone else caught his eye. You were different. You had to be.

Heeseung was the type who could have anyone, but you weren’t just anyone. You were stronger than that, smarter than that. You didn’t need to be one of his many admirers to feel valued.

So, you kept saying no, keeping a distance, watching the way he’d grin like it was no big deal, then go off to let his attention drift somewhere else. And deep down, you knew you weren’t immune to it. Maybe you never would be. But the answer stayed the same.

That didn’t mean Heeseung didn’t stop going after you.

If anything, it seemed like the more you pulled away, the harder he tried. You'd find him lingering around your classes, catching you in the hallways, or showing up in places where you didn’t expect him to be. It was like a game to him, though you weren't sure if he knew it was to you. Maybe he thought he could win you over if he tried hard enough, if he kept being persistent, kept flashing that grin and throwing out just enough charm to keep you on the edge of saying yes.

He’d joke with you, pretending to be playful, leaning in with a wink like you were both in on some shared secret no one else understood. But you knew better. You could see through the act, see the way his eyes would light up when he thought he was getting close. It was almost like a challenge to him now, something he couldn’t let go of.

But you kept saying no.

And he kept coming back for more.

You would think that someone like him would give up after rejection, after rejection. But nooooo.

If anything, Heeseung only seemed more determined with each "no" you threw at him. You’d catch him looking at you with amusement, as if he were trying to figure you out, like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, plotting his next move. It wasn’t just persistence—it was obsession in its own strange way.

He’d show up at your locker with an extra wide grin, as if all the past rejections were just another small obstacle, one he was determined to overcome. He’d ask about your plans for the weekend, your favorite movie, your favorite ice cream flavor—all these little things that seemed innocent enough but were clearly his way of getting closer to you, of worming his way in until you couldn’t say no anymore. And each time, you’d refuse, hold firm.

It was like a tug-of-war, except you were the one refusing to be pulled.

And yet, he never stopped to one point that there was a part of you that wondered, almost begrudgingly, if anyone had ever resisted him like this before. You could almost hear the chuckles of his friends in the background, no doubt betting on how long it would take before you gave in.

It did kind of surprise you when, one day, you were walking down the hallway, busy trying to find your gum in your bag, when you accidentally overheard a girl confessing to Heeseung. You stopped, pausing mid-step as you heard her voice, trembling with nerves, pouring out her feelings to him.

You looked down the hallway you were passing, and there he was, standing with his back to you, his attention fully on the girl in front of him. She was shy, her words stumbling over each other, her face flushed as she nervously admitted what everyone probably already knew. She liked him. She wanted him.

But what he did next was something you did not expect at all.

He rejected her.

The words hit you before you could even process them. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But there’s someone else I’m interested in. Someone I want." He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even seem to waver. He was polite, but his words were clear and final.

The girl stood frozen for a moment, looking down, clearly embarrassed. You could see the brief flicker of pain on her face, but she nodded and walked away quickly, her head down.

You felt an unexpected sting in your chest, a strange mix of confusion and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You couldn’t decide if it was relief or disappointment or... something else.

And as Heeseung turned around, casually adjusting his jacket, you quickly stepped into a side hallway, out of sight, your heart beating a little too fast for comfort. You had never expected to see something like that, especially not from him. Never from him. And it made you wonder, question everything you thought you knew about him.

Because after that moment, it seemed like he rejected girl after girl, all while still pursuing you with that same relentless determination. It was strange. You would never catch him kissing other women anymore, never saw pictures on social media of him with a girl on his lap at parties, never heard whispers of him flirting with anyone else. It was like the world around him had faded, and the only focus, the only person who mattered, was you.

No one else but you.

It made you question everything. Was he really serious about you? Or was this just some strange game he was playing, a challenge to see if he could win you over when everyone else had fallen for his charm? Or was it something more than the surface-level attention he gave everyone else? You tried to shake the thoughts from your mind, tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered when you realized you were the only one he seemed to want.

But the more you thought about it, the more it made you uneasy. Did you trust him? Or were you walking into a trap?

If it was a trap, it was a pretty good one, because something changed between the dynamic of you and Heeseung. You grew more compliant, more willing to give him a little piece of your attention, a little more of your time. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him shift gears. Heeseung, who had always been so confident, so certain, now seemed a little more desperate, a little more eager to make you notice him, to make you smile.

He’d go out of his way to do the smallest things just to get a reaction from you—whether it was showing up with your favorite drink, offering to carry your bag when you were weighed down with books, or trying to impress you with his random trivia knowledge that he knew you secretly found endearing. His usual cool composure was slipping, and in its place was a version of him you hadn’t seen since you were young.

And frankly, it was kinda cute.

It was like he was a little boy again, trying so hard to win your approval, doing whatever he could to get you to look his way, to see him the way he wanted you to.

You expected to play a little around with his attention, to enjoy the way he’d chase you, all while ignoring the stares you got from other girls. It wasn’t anything serious, just a game, a harmless little back-and-forth that didn’t have to mean anything. You didn’t expect it to go anywhere—after all, this was Heeseung, the golden boy who had his pick of anyone. He was just... fun to be around, right?

But how were you supposed to know that one measly party—just one event—would change everything?

It wasn’t even a big deal at first. Just a typical Friday night, with music blasting, lights flashing, and everyone packed together in some house that barely fit the crowd. You had told yourself you’d just go for a bit, maybe chat with some friends, and leave before things got too chaotic.

When you arrived, you decided to go get a drink first, something to ease your nerves. You weren’t exactly the type to jump into a party scene, so you figured a little liquid courage wouldn’t hurt. You made your way to the kitchen, and scanned the counter for something that would do the trick. You found a bottle of something strong, poured yourself a generous amount, and started nursing it as you made your way through the house, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd.

The music was louder now, almost deafening, and the air smelled like a mix of cheap cologne, sweat, and the faint scent of pizza. The people around you were lost in their own little worlds—laughing, dancing, talking—but you were searching for someone you knew.

Your search didn’t take long before you spotted a group of people you knew—friends from class, a few people you’d hung out with before. You made your way toward them, grateful for the distraction, and they welcomed you with smiles and waves. You could feel the tension in your body start to loosen as you joined in, taking a sip from your drink and laughing along with their jokes.

You stayed with them for a while, catching up on small talk, sipping your drink more leisurely. The conversation shifted from one topic to another—school, upcoming plans, random gossip about who was dating who—until eventually, the music started pulling everyone onto the dance floor. You found yourself swept along with the crowd, the beat of the song pounding through the floor and vibrating up your spine as you moved with the rhythm, the alcohol in your system giving you a little extra confidence.

It was fun, for a while. You lost yourself in the music, and you could feel the tension slip away with each step you took, each beat you moved to, until everything felt… easy.

Then, suddenly, you felt strong arms around your waist, pulling you close, a warmth pressing against your back. It took a split second for the reality to sink in, but you already knew who it was based on the familiar scent of cologne that filled your senses. You didn’t have to look to be sure, but you turned your head anyway, and as expected, there he was.

Heeseung.

He was right behind you, holding you effortlessly, his grip strong yet gentle as he matched the rhythm of the music with you. His chest pressed against your back, making your breath catch for a moment.

You could feel his chin rest lightly on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and despite every part of you telling yourself to pull away, to keep the distance you’d worked so hard to maintain, something inside you didn’t want to.

For a brief moment, you forgot to question it all. You forgot the reasons you kept pushing him away, the doubts you had about what he truly wanted.

And when he leaned close, his voice low and steady, you felt your resolve begin to crumble as his lips just brushed your ear. "You look so good," he murmured, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Dancing like that, looking so tempting."

The words were playful, but there was something in the tone that made it clear he wasn’t just joking. You could feel the weight of his gaze on the back of your neck.

For a moment, you felt dizzy—not just from the alcohol, but from his proximity, the way he had you caught in his orbit, unwilling to let go.

"You’re driving me crazy," he whispered, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as if to remind you of how close he was. The teasing had a bite now and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was testing you, seeing how far he could push.

And God did he push.

Heeseung’s fingers brushed lightly against your waist, sending a ripple of heat through you. "You know," he said, his tone softer now, almost a whisper, "you’re not making it easy for me to behave tonight."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his every move, every word. But it was useless—he was too close, too overwhelming, and you couldn’t think straight.

When you finally found your voice, it came out quieter than you intended. "Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink, Heeseung," you said, hoping to inject some distance, even though your own voice betrayed how unsteady you felt.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back. "Maybe," he admitted, and you could hear the smirk in his tone. "But don’t act like you’re not enjoying this."

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was locked on you, dark and intense.

"I’m not—" you started, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"You’re not what?" he murmured, his voice low and coaxing, daring you to finish your sentence.

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your heart raced, how you couldn’t seem to pull away, even though every logical part of your brain screamed at you to step back. But the warmth of his arms and the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the room—it was all too much.

For once, you let yourself linger, not pulling away from his hold, not giving him the usual pushback. He noticed immediately, his smirk growing as if he had won some unspoken game between you two.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Heeseung said, his tone teasing but soft. His fingers traced small circles against your hip, his other hand resting lightly at your waist. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I’m just too tired to deal with your nonsense.”

“Oh, nonsense, huh?” he said with a mock-wounded expression, leaning closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to your skin. “Careful, or you might hurt my feelings.”

“I think you’ll survive,” you shot back, tilting your head to glance at him. But the way his gaze locked onto yours made your breath hitch.

He laughed, the sound low and warm, as he kept still. “You’re enjoying this,” he murmured, the words brushing against your ear. “Admit it.”

You didn’t respond right away, instead letting the music carry you both. There was something about this that felt different tonight. Maybe it was the way he wasn’t pushing too hard, wasn’t making this feel like a game. Or maybe it was just the way you let yourself relax for once, let yourself enjoy his attention without overthinking it.

“And if I am?” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended, but steady enough to hold his gaze.

Heeseung’s grin widened, his confidence shining through. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep doing whatever I’m doing,” he said, his voice full of promise.

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head, trying to brush him off, but he wasn’t having it. “Oh, don’t act so tough,” he teased, “I know I’m getting to you.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping back just enough to put some space between you, but Heeseung wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily. He followed, closing the gap again, his movements unhurried. “Running away already?” he said, his tone mockingly hurt.

“I’m not running,” you shot back, crossing your arms in front of you, though the small smile threatening to form on your lips betrayed you.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly not convinced. He reached out, gently tugging at one of your hands, his pouty expression exaggerated to the point of being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, baby. I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

You let out a laugh despite yourself, shaking your head again. “I’m not your baby , you know that right?”

“But here you are,” he replied smoothly, the grin returning to his lips. “Still talking to me, still letting me hold you like I belong to you. Makes me think you don’t hate this as much as you pretend.”

You wanted to argue, to push him away again, but before you could, Heeseung pulled you closer once more. “Tell me to stop,” he said quietly, “if you really want me to stop, I will.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say, but you didn’t want him to stop. You couldn’t say it either. And he noticed.

Instead of gloating, though, his grin softened into an almost shy smile. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his hand squeezing yours gently before letting it go, as if to remind you that you were the one in control, even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

“Don’t think this means I’m giving in,” you said, trying to regain some ground, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to sound convincing.

“Sure, sure,” he replied, his smirk returning. “But I’ll take it as a win anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at him, a playful smirk curling on your lips. Leaning in just enough so only he could hear, you whispered, your voice teasing, “Maybe you should work a little harder if you want to win me over pretty boy.”

Before he could respond, you pulled back and walked off toward the kitchen, swaying your hips just enough to make a point and you felt a surge of satisfaction when you glanced over your shoulder.

Heeseung stood frozen in place, his expression both shocked and in disbelief. His mouth hung open slightly, his eyes wide as he processed your words and the sudden shift. For once, it seemed like you had left him speechless—a rarity that made your grin widen.

You turned back around, hiding your amusement as you reached the kitchen and poured yourself another drink.

A few seconds passed, and you felt it—the unmistakable weight of his gaze burning into your back. Heeseung wasn’t one to give up easily, and you knew you’d just ignited a fire in him. It wasn’t a question of if he’d come after you, but when.

You took a sip of your drink, savoring the moment, and braced yourself for whatever Heeseung was planning. You barely had any time to react before you felt Heeseung’s presence behind you. His body pressed against your back, his warmth seeping through your clothes as his arms caged you in on either side of the counter. His hands gripped the edge, locking you in place.

A low, frustrated groan escaped his lips, brushing against your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re really going to do me like that?” he murmured, his voice laced with mock pain.

You tilted your head slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep the grin from spreading across your face. “Do you like what?” you asked innocently, swirling your drink in your hand as if you weren’t trapped.

Heeseung chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made your stomach flip. “Walking away like that,” he said, leaning in closer until his lips almost brushed the curve of your jaw. “Whispering things you know are going to drive me crazy, and then just leaving me standing there like an idiot.”

You giggled as you leaned back slightly, your head resting against his shoulder. “You looked cute like that,” you teased, your tone dripping with playful defiance. “Maybe I should do it more often.”

“Cute?” he echoed, his voice dropping an octave as his grip on the counter tightened. “I’ll show you cute.”

Before you could respond, Heeseung’s lips were so close to your ear that you could feel the heat of his breath. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he said, his tone softer now, though still playful. “But it’s fine. I like trouble.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, your shoulders shaking slightly as you set your drink down on the counter. “You’re so dramatic, Heeseung,” you said, turning your head just enough to meet his gaze.

Heeseung’s eyes locked onto yours, the grin on his face softening into something more tempting. “Dramatic, huh?” he murmured, “maybe. But you can’t tell me you don’t like it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his nose almost brushing yours. “I think you like the attention,” he continued, his tone smug as his lips curved into that infuriating smirk. “You wouldn’t keep me guessing if you didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure despite the rapid thudding of your heart. “Guessing? Please,” you scoffed, tilting your chin up slightly, refusing to back down. “You’re the one who keeps showing up, Heeseung. Not me.”

“And yet,” he countered smoothly, “you haven’t walked away yet. If you really weren’t interested, you wouldn’t still be here. With me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, even as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I’m just enjoying watching you make a fool of yourself.”

“Is that right?” he said, his voice dipping, playful but challenging. He leaned in even closer, so close that his lips were barely a breath away from yours. “Careful, baby, or you might end up falling for me instead.”

His confidence was maddening, but it was that same confidence that made your pulse race.

You tilted your head slightly, meeting his gaze with a raised brow. “Falling for you?” you repeated, your voice steady even as your heart betrayed you. “Don’t flatter yourself, Heeseung.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm as his hand left the counter to lightly graze your hip, his fingers lingering just enough to make you aware of every single nerve in your body. “Oh, I’m not flattering myself,” he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m just calling it how I see it.”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “You’ve got some nerve,” you said, shaking your head as you turned away from him.

His eyes following your every move as you picked up your drink again. “And you’ve got some walls,” he shot back.

You paused, glancing back at him as you took a sip of your drink. “Maybe they’re there for a reason,” you replied, your tone light but pointed.

Heeseung leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you. “Yeah, but the thing about walls?” he said, tilting his head with a grin. “They’re meant to be climbed.”

You side-eyed him, the faintest smile tugging at your lips as you raised your glass to take another sip. “Try all you want mountain climber.”

Before he could come up with a response, you smoothly stepped away, moving around the kitchen counter to put some distance between you. His brows furrowed slightly in surprise, the sudden shift catching him off guard.

“Hey, wait a second,” he called after you, quickly sliding around the counter in an attempt to follow. The way he moved—quick but a little clumsy, as if he hadn’t expected you to slip away so easily—made you chuckle to yourself.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” you said over your shoulder, your tone full of challenge as you leaned casually against the far end of the counter, nursing your drink.

Heeseung stopped on the other side, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he tilted his head. “Oh, so now we’re playing games?” he asked, clearly in disbelief.

“You started it,” you shot back, taking another sip and meeting his gaze head-on.

His eyes narrowed slightly as if accepting the challenge. “Fine,” he said, “but don’t be mad when I win.”

“Win?” you repeated, raising a brow at him. “Pretty confident for someone who just got left behind.”

That earned a laugh from him, and in one swift motion, he stepped around the counter, closing the gap between you. “Left behind?” he echoed, his tone playful as he leaned down slightly, his face closer to yours. “Nah. I’m right where I need to be.”

Your breath hitched for the briefest moment, but you quickly masked it with another sip of your drink, refusing to let him see how much his persistence was getting to you.

Heeseung’s smirk widened when you began moving around the counter again, and without missing a beat, he mirrored your steps, chasing after you. “Oh, you think you’re clever, huh?” he teased, his tone light as his eyes tracked your every move.

“You’ll have to be faster than that,” you shot back, a playful laugh escaping your lips as you darted around the other side.

His hands hovered over the counter, ready to cut you off, but you were quicker, slipping just out of reach. The look of mock frustration on his face was priceless, and you couldn’t help but grin at your small victory.

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his hands up for a moment as if calling a truce. But you weren’t buying it—not for a second.

When he lunged, you were ready, spinning on your heel and darting out of the kitchen entirely. “Nice try!” you called over your shoulder, weaving your way back toward the dance floor, the thumping bass and flashing lights swallowing you up.

You could hear him groan behind you, the sound half exasperated, half amused. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

You didn’t answer, slipping into the crowd and letting the press of people conceal you. It was easy to lose him in the chaos, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of him standing near the edge of the dance floor, scanning the crowd with a furrowed brow.

For a moment, you just watched him. The way he ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to spot you, made your chest tighten unexpectedly. But you shook the feeling off quickly, turning back to the music and letting yourself have fun.

The crowd seemed to shift and swirl, pulling you deeper into the dance floor. For a moment, you felt untouchable—lost in the freedom of the moment.

But that feeling didn’t last long. You could still feel him, even if you couldn’t see him. And then, just when you thought you’d successfully slipped away, a familiar voice cut through the noise, low and right near your ear.

“Thought you could run away from me?”

You turned your head sharply, only to find Heeseung standing there, a sly grin on his face. His hair was slightly mussed, and there was a faint flush on his cheeks, probably from weaving through the crowd to find you.

“How’d you—” you started, but he interrupted with a chuckle.

“You really think I’d give up that easily?” he asked, his tone almost incredulous. “I told you, I’m right where I need to be.”

You rolled your eyes, though the corner of your lips tugged upward. “Maybe you’re just a little too determined,” you said, stepping back slightly, but he followed your movement effortlessly.

“Or maybe you like being chased,” he countered, his voice smooth as he matched your pace.

You opened your mouth to retort, but he caught your hand, gently spinning you back toward him, his movements seamless with the music. It was so smooth, so unexpected, that you didn’t even think to pull away. “Caught you,” he murmured, his voice low as his eyes locked onto yours.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “I let you catch me,” you replied.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he answered as he pulled you a little closer.

The space between you vanished, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of everything—his hand on your waist, his body, his gaze. It was dizzying, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you stayed there, caught in the moment, wondering how on earth he always managed to get under your skin like this.

Heeseung began to sway with you to the music, his hands resting lightly on your waist, guiding your movements with an ease that felt far too natural. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. It was just dancing, just a moment. And yet, you didn’t stop him. You let him lead, let him pull you closer, until his forehead was nearly brushing yours.

But then you noticed something. The way his steps were deliberate, not just moving to the beat but steering you. Slowly, subtly, his touch guided you backward through the crowd.

Your brow furrowed as realization dawned. Heeseung wasn’t just dancing. He had a plan.

“You’re sneaky, you know that?” you muttered, narrowing your eyes as you glanced over your shoulder and saw the wall creeping closer.

Heeseung’s grin turned wicked, a spark of mischief lighting up his face. “Sneaky? Me?” he asked, feigning innocence, though the way his hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist betrayed him. “Yes, you,” you shot back, even as your back brushed against the cool surface of the wall. He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Can you blame me? You make it so hard to keep my distance.”

You rolled your eyes, though your pulse betrayed you, hammering in your chest as his gaze locked onto yours.

His gaze never left yours for a second. The world around you seemed to fade away as he leaned in just the slightest bit closer, his chest rising and falling faster with each breath. You could feel the heat of his body so close to yours, could feel the tension between you, thick and heavy.

He glanced down at your lips, then back up to your eyes, the look in his gaze unreadable. It was almost like he was testing the air between you, measuring whether you’d pull away or lean in. His hands on your waist holding you in place as if he knew you wouldn’t make a move. His breathing had picked up now, shallow and just a little shaky, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was just as affected by this as you were.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whispered, though you knew your voice was too soft to carry any real force. The words felt weak even as they left your lips, because you knew you weren’t really trying to push him away.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and low, as if savoring the moment. “Like what?” he asked.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t—because the answer was already in the way your heart was pounding, the way your breath hitched every time he got a little closer.

And then, without warning, he leaned in just a fraction more, his lips hovering so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating from them, but he didn’t make the move. He was waiting. Testing.

You both seemed to be holding your breath.

Just as you were about to say something, the world shifted unexpectedly. A figure stumbled into Heeseung from behind, knocking into him, and before either of you could react, the person’s drink splashed all over you. You gasped as the cold liquid drenched your outfit, your heart sinking as you saw the mess, the dark stain had spread across the fabric, leaving a damp, sticky trail. “Are you kidding me?” you groaned, trying to wipe it off, but it only made it worse.

Heeseung, who had been caught off guard by the collision, quickly turned around. His brows furrowed with frustration, but his gaze softened when he saw the mess on your clothes. Without missing a beat, he pushed the person who had bumped into him away with a quick but firm shove. “Watch where you’re going!” he snapped. The drunk person mumbled an apology, clearly embarrassed, but Heeseung didn’t seem to care. His attention was on you now.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand brushing against your arm as he looked you over.

You just sighed, wiping your shirt, but it was clear you weren’t getting anywhere. “This is great,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else, “I didn’t even want to be here tonight, and now this…”

Heeseung didn’t let you dwell on it for long. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand in a way that was surprisingly gentle for all the tension you’d felt earlier. “Let’s get you cleaned up. There’s a bathroom down the hall.”

You didn’t argue, allowing him to guide you through the crowd, his hand on yours was warm, and even though you were frustrated, there was something comforting in the way he took charge.

When you reached the bathroom, he opened the door for you, ushering you inside with a soft “After you,” before making sure the door was securely closed behind you. The bathroom was quieter, and the air felt colder, but it was a welcome change from the chaos outside.

“Sit down, I’ll grab you some paper towels,” he said, motioning to the counter as he quickly moved toward the sink.

You sat down on the edge, trying to assess the damage, but the sticky feeling of the drink on your skin made it hard to focus. Heeseung was quick, his movements efficient as he grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them under the faucet.

“You’re really going to make me clean up after you now?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood, though there was still a hint of irritation in your voice.

Heeseung didn’t reply right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you the damp towels. His gaze softened as he looked at you. “I’m not making you do anything,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Just trying to help.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the gentle way he was treating the situation. You took the damp towels from his hands, still a little flustered by how close he was standing, how his gaze was focused on you with such intent.

“I didn’t ask for help,” you muttered, not in an angry way but more out of habit, the natural instinct to push away when things got too close, too personal.

He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know. But that’s never stopped me before, has it?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words didn’t come. You couldn’t find the right response. Instead, you just looked at him, your heart doing that erratic thing it always did when he was this close.

Heeseung seemed to notice your hesitation, his smile softening. “You don’t have to push me away every time, you know,” he said gently, his voice almost too sincere.

You blinked, caught off guard. But before you could respond, he stepped back, giving you space, though his eyes never left yours. “I’ll wait outside,” he said quietly, his voice shifting back to its usual tone.“Take your time.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

Heeseung gave you one last lingering look before stepping out of the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind him. As soon as he was gone, you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart still racing in your chest. You quickly went to work cleaning yourself up, though the mess on your clothes was much harder to fix.

Your thoughts were spinning. There was something about the way Heeseung was acting tonight, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was definitely something there, and it made your stomach twist in ways.

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to collect yourself. Why did he have this effect on you? You couldn’t figure it out, but the longer you stood there in the bathroom, the more confused you felt.

After a few more minutes, you gave up trying to fix the mess entirely. It was too late for that. Instead, you grabbed your things and stepped out of the bathroom. As soon as you entered the hallway, you spotted Heeseung standing by the door, his posture relaxed but his eyes immediately locking onto yours. “Well?” he asked, cocking his head slightly as he gave you a once-over. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, much better,” you replied, trying to act nonchalant, but you could feel your heartbeat quicken again under his scrutiny.

He gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You look… good.” There was a hesitation before the words left his mouth, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how to phrase them.

You caught it, and for the first time tonight, you didn’t immediately push back. Instead, you simply looked at him, unsure of what was happening.

Wait.

You suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu wash over you. The way he looked at you, the way he was standing there waiting for you, felt familiar, like it was something you had experienced before.

Your mind wandered back to a memory from when you were younger, one that you hadn’t thought about in ages. You were just a child, maybe eight or nine, playing in the park with Heeseung not too far away. You’d been running around, laughing with the other kids when some clumsy little boy—one of your classmates—spilled his drink all over you. You’d been so upset, the sticky liquid ruining your favorite shirt, and you could feel tears threatening to spill.

But then, out of nowhere, there was Heeseung. He hadn’t hesitated for a second, not like some of the other kids who were too busy laughing or ignoring you. He’d been sitting nearby, playing with a figurine in the grass, but the moment he saw you, he dropped his toys without a second thought. Without saying a word, he had stood up, walked over to you, and gently grabbed your hand.

“Don’t worry,” he’d said with that soft, comforting tone only he had, “I’ll help you clean up.”

He had led you straight to the bathroom of the park’s little concession stand, where he carefully grabbed paper towels and dabbed at your shirt, his face set in a look of determination. You remembered feeling embarrassed, but somehow his presence made everything feel better.

And now, here you were, years later, with him standing in front of you again, doing the same thing—helping you, without hesitation. It made you smile softly to yourself, the memory tugging at your heart in ways you weren’t sure how to explain.

Heeseung, noticing the smile tugging at your lips, raised an eyebrow in playful curiosity. “What’s on your mind?”

You shook your head, trying to hide the faint blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Just… thinking about something,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

He didn’t push, simply giving you a small smile, as though he understood without needing any further explanation.

Before you could think too much about it, Heeseung suddenly moved with a surprising confidence, his hand finding your waist and gently pulling you along with him. The sudden shift startled you for a moment, but the warmth of his hand against your side made your breath hitch slightly.

“You look like you need another drink,” he said, his voice low, but playful, as he guided you through the crowded hallway and toward the kitchen. He left you no time to protest, and you found yourself following him without much resistance. You’d barely processed the familiar feeling of his touch when you were already in the kitchen, the sound of music and chatter fading slightly as you both entered the quieter space. Heeseung let go of your waist once you were in the kitchen, but he still stood close.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he turned to the counter, rifling through the bottles of alcohol, though his gaze never fully left you.

"Something strong this time?" he asked, his tone teasing but with a hint of genuine care, as though he wanted to make sure you were really okay. "Or do you want to take it easy?"

You were still caught off guard by the way he had pulled you along, the way he’d moved without hesitation, without waiting for permission.

"Maybe just something light," you replied, trying to play it cool, even though he was making it difficult to focus on anything else.

Heeseung worked quickly, his movements smooth as he reached for the bottle, his back was turned to you. But you couldn’t stop watching him—how his muscles shifted under the fabric of his shirt, how good he looked.

Heeseung eventually finished the drink and handed it to you, his fingers brushing against yours again as you took the glass. For a second, you both stood there, neither one of you saying anything. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. It was that kind of silence where it felt like something was about to happen, but neither of you were sure what.

“So, what now?” you asked, trying to break the silence, but you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you spoke.

Heeseung took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now," he said, "we get back to enjoying the night."

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. "Right," you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended, but you quickly recovered, giving him a small smile. "Let’s see if I can actually make it through the night without getting drenched in anything else."

Heeseung’s lips curled into a grin, and he chuckled softly. "I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again," he said, his tone playful but with an undertone of sincerity. He reached out and gently took your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

You let him lead you back into the party, the music louder now, the crowd thicker. Heeseung didn’t let go of your hand, and you found yourself walking alongside him through the house, feeling uncertain.

✰ ✰ ✰

Somewhere during the night, you had lost sight of Heeseung. He had been dragged away by his friends, caught up in the crowd, and never returned after that. At first, it felt like a strange absence, the lingering sense of him still there even if he wasn't. But after a while, you pushed it aside, deciding it was fine.

You found yourself moving through the party, chatting with friends, laughing at jokes, and enjoying yourself. And as the night went on, you slipped into the comfort of familiar faces, people you could talk to normally. You were glad for the chance to just have fun, to forget for a moment the heat that always seemed to follow whenever Heeseung was around. You were fine without him, right?

You decided to step outside for a breath of fresh air. The noise and chaos inside had started to make you feel lightheaded, and the stuffy heat of the house wasn’t helping. A little solitude would do you good, you thought.

The cool air hit your skin as you stepped out into the backyard, a quiet escape from the party. You leaned against the outer wall, looking up at the night sky. The stars twinkled faintly above, and for a moment, you let the silence settle around you. It was peaceful, the kind of calm you needed after the madness inside. You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the chill of the night on your skin, and took a deep breath.

What you didn’t know was that someone was watching you from the shadows, standing just far enough away not to be seen. The shape of a figure, leaning against the corner of the house, observing you with quiet intensity.

The moment stretched on, the backyard still and quiet, until you felt a presence shift behind you. A movement you couldn’t quite place, and before you could turn around to see who it was, you felt the brush of someone’s body so close to yours that it made you freeze.

You slowly turned your head, your breath catching in your throat, and found yourself face to face with Heeseung. His lips were mere inches from your ear as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. But something was off.

His usually sharp gaze was a little hazy, his eyes unfocused as he smiled at you—though it didn’t reach the intensity of his usual teasing grin. He looked almost… detached. Out of it.

And then the smell hit you—a sharp, pungent scent of weed mixed with the alcohol. It hit you like a wave, and you realized just how much he'd been indulging tonight.

"Heeseung?" you murmured, taking a step back instinctively, your heart picking up speed as you watched him sway slightly, his breath coming out slower than usual.

He seemed to snap out of his daze for a moment, his eyes clearing slightly as he blinked at you. "Hmm?" His voice was low, almost lazy, and there was a softness to it that you weren’t used to hearing.

You studied him for a moment, his breath still tinged with the unmistakable haze of the night’s indulgence. He wasn't himself—at least not the playful Heeseung you knew. "Are you okay?" you asked cautiously, unsure how to navigate this new version of him standing so close.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before a slow, almost dreamy smile curled up on his lips. "Yeah, just needed a break too. The noise gets... loud. You know how it is."

He swayed again, his hand coming up to rest on the wall near you, his face inches from yours.

You stood still, your heart racing as you took in the unexpected sight of him like this. “Hey,” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt. “Maybe you should head back inside.”

He chuckled softly, but it lacked its usual spark. Instead, it was drawn out and almost tired. “Nah,” he muttered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m fine... just needed a minute.” His fingers brushed your arm lightly as if trying to keep himself steady.

He didn’t back away, though, and neither did you.

You were unsure what to say next, unsure of your next move. "You’re making this... hard," you finally whispered, uncertain whether you were talking about the situation or him.

Heeseung smiled, but this time it was slow, almost seductive, like he was savoring the moment. “Maybe I like it that way,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. He leaned just a little closer, his breath mingling with yours.

Despite everything, despite all the confusion, you couldn’t stop the way your heart pounded. Heeseung had always been a game you couldn’t quite figure out, but right now, you were starting to wonder if maybe it was a game you didn’t want to win.

As he leaned in further, you had to make a decision: pull away, or let yourself fall into whatever it was that had been brewing between the two of you.

Before you could even make a decision, he made the decision for you. His lips parted, and he murmured a low, breathy compliment against your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You look so beautiful baby,” he said, and there was a sincerity in his tone that cut through the haze. But before you could respond, his hand shot up to grip the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your skin, holding you in place. The other hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Then, without warning, he kissed you. Hard. Hungry. His lips crashing against yours as if you were the air he needed to breathe, like this moment was the only thing that mattered.

You gasped into the kiss, caught off guard by the intensity of it. Heeseung’s mouth was possessive, eager, like he couldn’t get enough of you. He kissed you with a desperation that sent a rush of heat straight to your body, his hands pulling you closer, the pressure of his grip firm. It felt like everything had exploded in that moment, every feeling you’d been pushing away suddenly pouring out in a single, stolen kiss.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and even though every part of you knew this wasn’t how you expected things to go, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it. The way he kissed you—like you were the last thing he’d ever touch—was overwhelming, and for the first time, you let yourself surrender to it.

His lips were intoxicating, and as he pulled you closer, you could feel the intensity in every movement, every press of his body against yours. The kiss deepened, more frantic now, as if neither of you could get enough. The feeling of him—so desperate, so needy—was something you never expected from Heeseung, and yet it was exactly what you found yourself craving.

You tried to stay grounded, to remind yourself of who he was, of all the walls you’d carefully built between you, but with each second, they seemed to crumble. His hands moved to your back, pulling you in as his kiss grew more fevered, his breathing erratic as he let out soft groans against your lips.

You couldn’t help but respond, your own hands rising to clutch at his shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as if to keep him anchored to you, like the very act of touching him would stop this moment from slipping away. Heeseung’s body was solid against yours, and despite the confusion that still buzzed in the back of your mind, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted this—wanted him.

His breath hitched as you pulled him even closer, you could feel the way his body seemed to tremble slightly as he held you in his arms, groaning lowly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he used one arm to brace himself against the wall, the other pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. His lips were desperate, claiming, his breathing heavy as it mixed with yours.

Your hands moved without thought, one gripping the back of his shirt, the other winding into his hair, tugging him even closer. He let out another low groan, the sound so needy it sent a shiver down your spine. Heeseung’s hand at your waist tightened, as if he was trying to merge your bodies into one.

Every part of you seemed to melt under his touch, all that mattered in that moment was the way he felt against you, the way his lips moved with yours, the way his hands seemed to be exploring every inch of your body. His lips moved with desperation, and each breathless kiss made it harder to remember why you had held back for so long.

But then, just as the kiss deepened again, your mind caught up with you. You could feel the weight of it—the gravity of what was happening. The familiar warning signs, the confusion, the uncertainty, all came rushing back to the surface.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands gripping his hair tightly, your chest rising and falling in quick breaths, trying to regain some semblance of control. Heeseung, sensing the shift, finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting softly.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice raspy and gentle, as if checking to see if you were still with him in that moment.

You pulled back slightly, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to gather your thoughts, but your mind was still clouded by the rush of the moment. "We... we shouldn't be doing this," you murmured, your voice shaky, feeling the weight of the situation. "You're drunk, Heeseung. This isn't you."

Heeseung blinked slowly, his eyes still heavy with that lazy, almost dazed look as he played with the strands of your hair, his fingers brushing gently against your scalp. He tilted his head slightly, giving you that smile—the one that always made your heart flutter, even in the most confusing of times.

He leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and he spoke softly, his voice sincere "Even if I wasn't drunk," he said, his lips curling into a slow smile, "I’d still do this." His eyes locked onto yours, the haze in them making his gaze feel even more intense. "Because you're you. A pretty girl I've wanted for years."

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the heat of his words curling around you like a blanket, and you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat. His hand on your hair moved down to gently cup your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "This... this is unforgettable. And I’d do it over and over again, no matter what state I’m in."

You were speechless for a moment, but you knew he was being honest, even if his current state made it hard to fully trust his intentions.

"But...," you started, still unsure, trying to hold onto your reason, "this isn't the right time, Heeseung. We both know that."

Heeseung’s lazy smile didn’t falter, though there was a longing in his eyes somthing you hadn't seen before. He slowly moved his thumb down, brushing lightly over your lips before leaning in again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe not the right time," he said, his lips nearly brushing against yours once more. "But you’ve always been worth the wait."

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his hand still cradling your face as if silently asking for permission. Then, he leaned in, placing a soft, tentative peck on your lips. It was gentle and when you didn’t pull away, he did it again, this time lingering a little longer. Each kiss felt like a question, and with every unspoken answer, his confidence grew.

The next kiss wasn’t as restrained. It was deeper, needier, as though the small taste he’d gotten wasn’t enough. His lips moved against yours with increasing urgency, quickly unraveling into something messier. His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, while his other hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

The kisses turned sloppy, his control slipping with every passing second. His breath came heavier, mingling with yours as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, making your knees feel weak.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands moving to grip his shoulders, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Heeseung broke away just briefly, as he gasped for air, his lips swollen and glistening. “You don’t know,” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with desperation. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” Before you could respond, he captured your lips again, his kisses feverish, like he was making up for all the time he’d spent waiting. His body pressed you more firmly against the wall, as he completely lost himself in the moment, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece.

You tried to catch your breath, your head spinning from it all, but Heeseung wasn’t giving you a chance to think. His lips trailed down from yours, brushing along your jaw and down to your neck, where he placed hot, open-mouthed kisses that sent a shiver through your entire body. “Heeseung,” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky. You weren’t sure what you were trying to say—stop or don’t stop.

“Say my name again,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and raspy. He placed another kiss just below your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “I love the way it sounds coming from you.”

You didn’t answer because the way he was looking at you left you speechless. His lips were swollen from the kisses, his hair slightly messy, and there was something in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before. “Heeseung,” you whispered again, softer this time, your hand reaching up to touch his face. The moment your fingers brushed his cheek, he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a second. When they opened again, there was a softness there that made your heart ache.

Heeseung’s lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss so deep, so consuming, that it left you breathless. You could feel the way his fingers trembled slightly as they slid up your sides. One hand settled on the small of your back, keeping you firmly pressed against him, while the other moved to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough.

He groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine as his lips parted, inviting you to deepen the kiss. The way his tongue brushed against yours was dizzying, leaving your knees weak and your mind spinning. You responded instinctively, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer.

Heeseung’s breathing was heavy, uneven, as if he couldn’t catch his breath but didn’t want to stop. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flutter. It felt like he was memorizing the feel of you, the taste of you, the way you fit perfectly against him.

Heeseung’s lips suddenly left yours, trailing a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and onto your neck. “You don’t even know,” he murmured, his words slurred slightly but full of emotion. “How long I’ve wanted this… wanted you. God, you’re all I ever think about.” His lips grazed your collarbone, grounding you as he leaned his full weight into you, effectively caging you against the wall.

His rambling continued, each word pouring out like a confession. “I dream about you… about us. It’s always you. No one else even comes close, y’know that? The way you smile, the way you look at me… even when you’re mad at me, I can’t get you out of my head.”

His lips moved lower, pressing kisses along your chest as he spoke, his voice husky and raw. “You’re so beautiful… so perfect. And now you’re here, and I don’t want to let go.”

His words were pure need and desperation, and the way he shielded you with his body only amplified the intensity of the moment. “Tell me you feel it too,” he breathed, his voice breaking slightly. “Tell me I’m not crazy for wanting you this much.”

You were overwhelmed, caught between his touch and his words. Heeseung wasn’t holding back, and as much as you wanted to respond, the only thing you could manage was a shaky exhale, your hands clutching at his shirt to keep yourself steady.

Your voice wavered as you found the courage to speak, breaking through the haze of emotions swirling around you both. “But what about all the other girls, Heeseung?” you asked, your tone softer than you expected. “All the girls you’ve been with? The ones who’ve followed you around, who’ve—” You hesitated, the words getting caught in your throat.

Heeseung froze for a moment, his lips hovering against the curve of your neck, his breathing uneven. His answer was strained. “No one’s like you,” he said, his tone almost pleading. “No one even comes close.”

His hand moved up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “You think any of them matter?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “All those girls… they were never you. Never even close to being you. I don’t care about them. I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you.”

His lips found your collarbone again, lingering there as he continued. “I’ve yearned for you—God, for so long. You don’t even know what you do to me.” His hand slid down to your hips, gripping you as if to anchor himself. “Every time I see you, it’s like nothing else exists. No one else exists.”

He pulled back slightly, his dark, half-lidded eyes locking onto yours. “I’ll drop them all—every single one. I don’t need anyone else, never did. I just want you.”

Heeseung, ever the gentleman suddenly took you by the hand and led you back inside, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers. With a gentle yet firm grip, he guided you through the bustling crowd, his eyes never leaving yours, as he led your way towards an unoccupied bedroom. Once inside the bedroom, Heeseung closed the door behind you, locking out the world and creating a private haven for the two of you, as he leaned in and captured your lips in a desperate kiss.

You responded to his kiss with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, while Heeseung's hands roamed freely, caressing your back.

Heeseung only pulled back slightly, his chest heaving with heavy breaths before he began to unbutton his shirt, revealing a well-defined torso.

Well this would be a fun night.

It was a fun night... but what ruined it was the fact that Heeseung suddenly seemed to forget who you were. The next few days at school were a complete shift. He avoided you. He didn’t look at you, didn’t talk to you, didn’t even so much as throw a teasing grin your way in the hallways.

No, instead, he went back to his old habits. He laughed and flirted with other girls, his charm as effortless as ever, like nothing had changed. Like you didn’t exist. At. All.

It was maddening.

But the worst part? Watching him smile at those girls with the same ease he once reserved for you, as if you hadn’t been pressed against that wall, that bed, tangled up in his words and his touch. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You didn’t know what happened. You wracked your brain for answers, trying to piece together where it all went wrong. But deep down, you should have known. Of course, you should have known.

Heeseung wasn’t the type to stay tethered. He wasn’t the type to settle. He was the type to chase, to get what he wanted, and then move on. And now that he’d tempted you, now that he’d had a taste of your attention, it seemed he’d gone on to the next woman.

Why would you be any different?

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably. You weren’t supposed to care. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t let someone like him get to you. But seeing him act as if nothing had happened—as if you were just another moment in his life—stung more than you wanted to admit.

And the worst part? You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you that night, the way he touched you, the way his words had seemed so genuine. Had it all been a lie? Or had he just changed his mind?

Either way, you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothered you. If he wanted to act like you didn’t exist, you’d do the same. Or at least, you’d try.

And you did try. You really did. Ignoring Heeseung, pretending he was just another face in the crowd—it seemed like the only way to keep yourself sane. And for a while, it felt like it might work. You told yourself you could move on, that you could forget about the way his touch had felt, the way his voice had sounded when he whispered your name.

Yeah, no. You couldn’t.

Not at all.

You realized that the moment you walked by the bleachers and saw a girl perched comfortably on Heeseung’s lap during basketball practice. She laughed at something he said, her hand resting casually on his shoulder. Your stomach churned.

Nope. Moving on wasn’t happening.

And then in the hallways, you would see him leaning against the wall, his signature grin plastered across his face as he shamelessly flirted with other girls. Their giggles echoed in the corridor, and Heeseung would tilt his head, his eyes sparkling like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Yeah, moving on definitely wasn’t in the cards.

Each time you saw him acting like you were meaningless, like the night you’d shared was nothing more than a passing moment, it cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

And yet, despite all of it, despite the ache in your chest and the frustration bubbling under your skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him. What would you even say? That he’d hurt you? That he’d made you believe you were different, only to prove otherwise?

No. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But pretending it didn’t matter? That was turning out to be harder than you ever imagined.

Okay, yeah, pretending it didn’t matter was much harder than you thought. Because now, standing in the doorway of your room, staring at a very intoxicated Heeseung, all of those feelings you were desperately trying to bury came rushing back.

His hair was messy like he’d run his hands through it a million times. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the smooth skin of his collarbones, and his belt dangled loosely from his hands like he’d been too distracted—or too far gone—to put it back on properly. The faint smell of alcohol and nicotine wafted off him, making you wrinkle your nose.

This was not how you’d planned to spend your night. You were supposed to be studying, maybe finishing the next episode of that series you were hooked on. A calm night. But of course, Heeseung had to ruin that.

“Heeseung,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe, trying to keep your voice steady, “What are you doing here?”

He blinked at you, his eyes glassy but still managing to hold that familiar spark that made your heart do stupid flips. “I—uh...” He trailed off, his gaze flickering over you like he was trying to figure out what to say.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You don’t even know why you’re here, do you?”

“I know why I’m here,” he slurred, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “I just... I wanted to see you.”

You sighed, already feeling the headache forming. “Heeseung, you’re drunk. And not in your right mind. You should go home before you embarrass yourself even more.”

But instead of leaving, he gave you that boyish grin—the one that always made your resolve waver. “Can’t I stay here? Just for a bit?”

“No,” you replied firmly, but even as you said it, you knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

Heeseung’s expression softened, and his voice dropped, almost pleading. “Come on, don’t do this. I... I don’t want to be anywhere else right now.”

You hated how those words tugged at something deep inside you. Why did he always have to show up and mess with your head?

You found yourself hesitating, your hand still on the door, unable to slam it shut in his face, sighing, your hand gripping the edge of the door as you tried to keep your cool. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung," you said, your voice quieter than you intended. "I have too much going on. I'm stressed, and I really don't have the energy for this."

He didn’t back off. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His voice was low and teasing, with that same lazy confidence he always seemed to have. "If you're stressed, I can help with that," he murmured. "Play with me a little, and I promise, you'll forget all about it."

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his audacity. “Heeseung—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, a small, mischievous smirk playing on his lips. His eyes, hazy but still focused on you, sparkled with that familiar glint that always left you second-guessing yourself. “I’m really good at relieving stress. Just give me a chance.”

Your mouth opened to respond, but no words came out. The sheer gall of him left you momentarily speechless.

Finally, you shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of the moment. "Heeseung, you're drunk. You should just go home and sleep this off before you say something else ridiculous."

He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Drunk or not, I’m still right,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned a fraction closer. “But if you really don’t want me here…” He gestured vaguely toward the hallway, though he made no actual move to leave.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, trying to summon every ounce of patience you had left. “Heeseung,” you said firmly, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze. “I need you to take this seriously. Either go home, or...”

“Or?” he asked, his voice soft but teasing, daring you to finish the sentence.

Your frustration bubbled over as you only glared at him, the sight of his disheveled figure only fueling your anger. "No! Do you have any idea how mad I am at you right now?" you snapped, crossing your arms. "You ignored me for days, Heeseung. Days! You acted like I didn’t exist, like nothing happened, and now you just show up at my door like—like this?"

Heeseung blinked, the lazy smirk faltering slightly, but he didn’t say anything. That only made you angrier. "Do you even know how humiliating it’s been? Watching you flirt with other girls, pretending like what we had meant nothing? And now, you think you can just waltz in here, drunk and out of your mind and what—fix everything with a grin and some smooth words? You don’t get to do that, Heeseung. You don’t get to mess with my head and—"

Before you could finish, Heeseung surged forward, his hands grabbing your cheeks as he pulled you close. His lips crashed against yours with a force that took your breath away, silencing your ramble in an instant.

Your mind went blank, your words evaporating as his warmth enveloped you. His kiss was desperate, almost as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say out loud. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place, while the other stayed firm on your cheek.

You froze, your anger momentarily eclipsed by the intensity of his actions. But then, your hands instinctively pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss as you stepped back, breathless and wide-eyed. “Heeseung, what the hell?” you whispered, your voice shaking, unsure if it was from lingering anger or the way your heart raced in your chest.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted quietly, his voice hoarse. “You were yelling at me, and I just… I missed you. I couldn’t stay away.”

You stared at him, torn between wanting to scream at him and wanting to pull him back in. “You don’t get to do that,” you said, your voice trembling. “You don’t get to kiss me like that and think it’ll fix everything.”

“I don’t think it fixes anything,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Before you could respond, he took a small step closer, his forehead gently resting against your shoulder. His breath was warm against your neck as he hummed softly, the sound low and almost comforting. He nuzzled against your skin, his movements slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice strained as you placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away. But he didn’t budge, his larger frame pressing closer as his lips ghosted over the curve of your neck.

“I missed this,” he murmured, the words vibrating against your skin. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss just below your ear, his hand curling gently around your waist to hold you steady.

You tried to push again, but it was weak, half-hearted, especially as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot, sending a shiver down your spine. “Stop it, Heeseung,” you said, but your voice lacked conviction, and he clearly noticed.

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and a little smug. “You’re telling me to stop,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck, “but you’re not really trying, are you?”

Your heart raced, torn between the anger still simmering in your chest and the way his touch was making your knees feel like jelly. “Heeseung, this isn’t fair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression softer now. “You’re right. It’s not fair. But I don’t know how else to tell you that I’m sorry. That I’ve been a complete idiot. That I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But before you could sort through your emotions, he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your neck once more, and you felt yourself faltering.

Heeseung’s movements were subtle at first, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as he guided you further into the house. You didn’t even realize he’d kicked the door closed until you heard the faint click of it shutting.

Your distraction gave him the advantage, and before you could voice even the smallest protest, he was steering you toward the couch. His hands were steady, firm, but not forceful, leaving you confused and torn between stopping him and giving in to the pull he had on you.

“Heeseung—” you started, but the words barely escaped your lips before his mouth was on yours again, silencing you with a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips moved hungrily against yours, leaving no room for argument, and when you tried to push back against his chest, your resolve faltered as he moaned softly into the kiss. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and to your dismay, a small whine slipped out in response.

His lips curved against yours as if he could sense your weakening resolve, his hands started guiding you to lay down on the couch. The weight of his body hovered close, not trapping you but leaving you with the realization that Heeseung wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips, “if you really want me to, I will.” But the way he looked at you, his dark eyes full of yearning and desperation, made it clear he didn’t want you to say the words.

When you didn’t respond, Heeseung’s lips curled into a slow, almost knowing smile. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. He leaned down, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips once more.

This kiss was different—softer at first, unhurried but still filled with that undeniable hunger. His weight shifted slightly, his chest pressing against yours while his hand slid from your cheek to your waist, steadying you. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, as though he wanted to memorize every detail, every sound you made, and every way you responded to him.

You couldn’t stop yourself from melting into him, Heeseung’s lips left yours only briefly, trailing kisses along your jaw, his warm breath ghosting over your skin as he murmured, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Your pulse quickened, your heart hammering in your chest. “Heeseung… please,” you managed to whisper, though your voice trembled, making it come out weaker than you’d intended.

But he only shook his head softly, his lips brushing against your cheek as he murmured, “Shh… Don’t.” His voice was low and soothing, almost pleading, as though he couldn’t bear to hear you say anything that might break the moment between you. “Just… stay with me. Don’t push me away right now,” he whispered.

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, this time slower, softer, as if he was savoring the moment.

And you couldn’t help but let yourself fall deeper into the kiss.

✰ ✰ ✰

Yeah, you were getting pretty tired now.

After waking up the next morning to an empty bed, Heeseung having dipped sometime before you even stirred, you couldn’t say you were surprised. Disappointed? Sure. Hurt? Maybe. But surprised? Not in the slightest.

The hollow feeling lingered as you dragged yourself to school, telling yourself to just push through the day like nothing had happened. It was easier said than done when the moment you stepped into the halls, you spotted Heeseung leaning casually against his locker, laughing at something one of his friends said, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And of course, he acted like last night didn’t happen. Not a glance in your direction, not a nod of acknowledgment—nothing. It was as if you didn’t exist, as if you hadn’t shared anything at all.

You bit down the frustration bubbling in your chest, refusing to let it show. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t let him get to you, that you’d play it cool, but damn, it was harder than you thought. Watching him joke around, watching him flirt effortlessly with anyone but you—it stung more than you wanted to admit.

You sighed, gripping the straps of your bag a little tighter as you walked past him, pretending you didn’t notice him either.

It got to the point where your friends couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“What’s going on with you and Heeseung?” one of them asked, their tone laced with curiosity and concern. “He was all over you, and now he’s... not. Did something happen?”

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything, but their expectant gazes made it clear they weren’t letting it go. So, with a deep breath, you told them everything.

Their reactions were immediate.

“He did what?” one of your friends exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Are you serious? He was with you and then went back to ignoring you? Twice?!” another chimed in, her voice rising in anger.

They were shocked at first, then angry—angrier than you were, which was both comforting and a little overwhelming.

“You need to stop answering his calls,” one of them said firmly, leaning closer. “He’s just using you as a backup plan when he’s drunk and lonely.”

Another nodded, her expression equally resolute. “Don’t let him in, no matter how much he begs. If you let him in, you’re just setting yourself up to kick him out later. And trust me, that’s worse.”

“Exactly,” a third added, crossing her arms. “And don’t even think about being his friend. Friends don’t wake up in each other’s beds after nights like that.”

The last comment stung more than you cared to admit, but they weren’t done.

“If you’re under him, you’re never getting over him,” another said bluntly, her words hitting harder than you’d expected. “And you deserve better than this game he’s playing with you.”

You sat there, their words circling in your head like a storm. Deep down, you knew they were right. You knew you couldn’t keep letting Heeseung in only to get hurt every time he left. But knowing it and doing something about it were two very different things.

One of your friends sighed, shaking her head. “You know what this sounds like, right? A situationship. That’s what this is turning into.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“That’s exactly what it is,” another chimed in, crossing her arms. “He keeps you close enough to make you think you matter, but far enough to avoid any real accountability. Classic situationship behavior.”

You groaned, leaning back against the bench. “I don’t even know if it’s that deep. He probably doesn’t think about me at all.”

“Well…” one of them started, glancing over your shoulder, her expression shifting into amusement and curiosity.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

She hesitated for a moment before blurting it out. “Heeseung’s staring.”

Your head snapped around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. And sure enough, there he was, standing at the edge of the basketball court, holding a ball loosely in one hand. He wasn’t laughing with his teammates or focused on the game. No, his eyes were locked directly on your group—or more specifically, on you.

Your friends followed your gaze, and a chorus of whispers erupted.

“Oh my god, he really is.”

“What is he doing just standing there?”

“Is it just me, or does he look like he’s debating something?”

One of them nudged you. “Okay, spill. What’s going on in his head? Did you say something to him recently? Text him?”

You shook your head quickly, still staring at Heeseung. “No, I haven’t even looked at him, let alone talked to him.”

“Then why is he staring like that?”

“I don’t know!” you said, your voice low but frantic.

Another friend tilted her head, watching him closely. “It’s not just a glance, either. He’s full-on staring. Like he’s trying to figure out if he should come over here or something.”

The thought made your stomach flip, cause there was something more intense in the way he looked at you—like he was fighting some internal battle.

“Well, whatever’s going on,” one of your friends whispered, “he’s definitely not over you.”

You turned back to your friends, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “You guys are making this into something it’s not.”

One of them snorted. “Honey, he’s the one making it into something. Look at him.”

Against your better judgment, you glanced back at Heeseung, and your breath hitched when your eyes met his again. He didn’t look away. If anything, his gaze only grew more focused, like he wanted to make sure you knew he was looking.

You quickly turned back to your friends, forcing a tight smile. “Let’s go,” you said, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

They exchanged knowing glances but didn’t argue. One of them muttered, “Good idea,” as the group began gathering their things.

As you walked away from the bench, you resisted the urge to glance back at Heeseung. Your friends stayed close, their chatter filling the air as they tried to distract you, but it was hard to shake the feeling of his eyes still on you.

When you reached the school gates, one of them broke the silence. “So… are we just going to ignore the fact that he was practically burning a hole in your back with that stare?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, your voice sharper than you intended. “We’re ignoring it.”

Another friend chuckled softly. “Okay, okay. But just so you know, he’s not ignoring you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stepped onto the sidewalk. “Well, he’s doing a great job of pretending otherwise most of the time.”

“That’s the thing,” someone said thoughtfully. “Guys like him—they act like they don’t care, but the moment they think they’re losing you? They start doing stuff like this.”

You didn’t reply, tightening your grip on your bag as the group walked down the street. You didn’t want to talk about Heeseung anymore, didn’t want to think about the way he looked at you.

✰ ✰ ✰

It was a vicious cycle, one you hated but couldn’t seem to break. Each time you told yourself it would be the last, that you’d stop answering the door, that you wouldn’t let him in again. And yet, every time the night fell and he showed up—messy hair, glassy eyes, and a crooked smile—you found yourself giving in, letting him cross the threshold into your apartment.

Heeseung had this way of making you feel like you were the center of his world. His hands were always warm, his voice low and sweet, whispering things that made your chest ache in ways you couldn’t describe.

“Why do you do this to me?” you’d asked one night, your voice breaking as you stared up at him, your fingers tangled in his hair.

He’d only smiled, brushing his thumb against your cheek as if he didn’t have an answer, or maybe because he didn’t want to give you one. “Because I can’t stay away from you,” he’d said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

But then morning would come, and he would vanish like a dream you couldn’t quite remember, leaving behind an empty space in your bed and a heavier one in your chest. And at school, it was always the same. His eyes would find you across the cafeteria or the hallway, and for a moment, it would feel like everything stopped. But he wouldn’t come over, wouldn’t talk to you. He’d just look.

Your friends noticed it, too, how he’d stare at you as if you were the only thing in the room, even when there were other girls around him, laughing at his jokes and vying for his attention.

“You’re letting him ruin you,” one of them said one afternoon, her voice tinged with frustration.

“I know,” you admitted, your voice hollow. “But it’s not like I can just stop.”

You wanted to hate him, for the way he seemed to pull you in only to push you away, for the way he made you feel like you were everything one second and nothing the next.

But you couldn’t. Because even though you knew it was toxic, even though you knew it was breaking you bit by bit, there was a part of you that couldn’t let go.

Because in those nights, when he looked at you like that, when he touched you like he’d fall apart if he didn’t, you felt wanted. Needed. And no matter how much it hurt afterward, you kept holding onto it, hoping that one day, he’d stop running.

It wasn’t until his friend Jake—of all people—came to talk to you that you started piecing things together. You’d been so caught up in the back-and-forth, the way Heeseung would tease you one moment and ignore you the next, that you never truly understood why. But now, hearing it from Jake, it was like a lightbulb went off in your mind.

Heeseung, despite all the other girls he flirted with, never gave them the attention he gave you. He never kissed them, never looked at them the way he looked at you.

And Jake had confirmed it. Heeseung was in love with you. Hopelessly in love, but he didn’t even know it himself. That’s why he acted the way he did. He didn’t know how to handle it, how to deal with it.

Jake had told you Heeseung was scared. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and it terrified him. So, he’d masked it all with arrogance, with distance. But when he was drunk, then the walls came down, his real feelings would surface. That’s why he’d always show up at your door when he was intoxicated—because, in those moments, he couldn’t hide from what he truly felt for you.

You wanted to be mad at him for hiding behind that facade, for playing with your feelings. But now you understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you; it was that he was so afraid of what this all meant, of what it would do to him, to both of you, that he couldn’t face it. So, he ran, and he used everything he could to keep you at arm’s length, to protect himself from being honest with you.

But knowing the truth didn’t make it hurt less. You still found yourself torn between wanting to be there for him, to help him figure it out, and wanting to protect yourself from getting hurt even more. Because at the end of the day, you were both so damn lost in this mess.

“Look, I know you’re confused. But you need to understand, Heeseung’s been a mess about this. He’s never felt anything like it before. And trust me, he doesn’t know how to handle it.”

You shook your head, trying to process everything Jake was saying. It didn’t seem to make sense. Why hadn’t he just told you? “But why does he act like he doesn’t care? Why ignore me at school like I’m nothing, and then do… all that when he’s with me?”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, knowing the weight of your words. “It’s easier for him to push you away than admit it to himself. He’s scared. He doesn’t get why he’s so into you. So he avoids it.”

You stared at him, your heart racing as everything started to fall into place. But you still had questions, things you didn’t understand. “But why doesn’t he just… talk to me? Be honest?”

Jake shrugged, his eyes softening. “He doesn’t know how to navigate this. It’s easier for him to hide behind his stupid behavior than face the truth.”

You were silent for a long moment, processing all of the information you had gotten.

When you didn`t answer, Jake let out a resigned sigh, his shoulder slumping slightly before he gave you a supportive pat on the shoulder. "You’ve got to make him talk," he said quietly, his voice filled with sympathy. "You’re the only one who can get him to open up. Just… don’t wait forever, okay?"

He gave you one last look before walking off, leaving you standing there with your heart racing in your chest, all of your emotions tangled up in knots.

Your footsteps were heavy as you walked away from the scene, feeling the weight of every question that lingered in your mind. Why did you have to talk to Heeseung? You weren’t his therapist, nor his emotional support. Wasn’t he man enough to talk to you? You clenched your fists, frustration building in your chest.

What if Jake was wrong? What if he was just trying to paint a picture that didn’t exist, feeding you some narrative to make you feel better about the mess you were in? What if you were making a fool of yourself? The thoughts spiraled, doubt flooding your mind. Every interaction with Heeseung now felt like a game you didn’t know how to play, where the rules were constantly changing and you were left scrambling to catch up.

What if you were just a sidepiece? The thought stung more than you wanted to admit, and the image of Heeseung laughing with other girls earlier flashed in your mind. He was always so charming, so easy with them, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you were just another stop on his list, a temporary distraction, something to pass the time until someone else caught his eye.

You sighed deeply, rubbing your forehead as you made your way to your car. You wanted to be done with this—done with the confusion, the uncertainty, the constant emotional whiplash. But part of you knew it wasn’t that easy. Nothing with Heeseung ever was.

But maybe Jake was right. Maybe you could be the one to make him talk—to make him finally admit what was really going on in his head, what he was feeling. But was it worth it? Was risking your heart worth it?

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of frustration and sadness wash over you.

✰ ✰ ✰

Okay, to be fair, Heeseung had it coming. You repeated it in your mind like a mantra as you looked down at your phone, the screen lighting up with his constant calls and texts. Each one more desperate than the last, his words slurred, the grammar all over the place—clearly, he wasn’t in his right mind. The messages seemed to echo the chaos in your chest, but you refused to reply.

You stared at the phone, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—something deep and heavy that you couldn’t quite place. He had done this to himself, hadn’t he? He had made his choices, and now he had to deal with the consequences. The constant buzzing of your phone finally slowed, and you thought maybe he had given up. But then, the doorbell rang.

You froze, your stomach dropping. You crept cautiously to the door, standing there for a moment as the bell rang again and again, each chime making your heart race. The knocking started soon after, loud and urgent, but you stayed still, arms crossed, refusing to move.

You weren’t going to let him back in.

The knocking stopped suddenly, and for a moment, everything was silent. And then, through the door, you heard his voice.

“Please… please open the door…” His voice was shaky, desperate, as if he was on the verge of breaking. “I’m sorry. Please, I need you. I just… please don’t leave me like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t something you were used to hearing from him. It was different.

"I need to see you... I can't stop thinking about you... Please, don't... don't shut me out, not now."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you cautiously unlocked the door, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in the silence. When the door creaked open, you were met with the sight of him sitting on the ground, his posture slumped, eyes staring at the bottle in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

As soon as he saw you, he scrambled to his feet, his movements frantic, as if he couldn't wait another second. Before you could even take a step back, his arms were around you, pulling you into an embrace that was far too tight to push him off.

You gasped in surprise, your hands instinctively pushing against his chest. "Heeseung, wait—" But your protest was quickly smothered as he held you tighter, pressing his face into the side of your neck.

“I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you,” he mumbled, his words slurred and uneven, the alcohol clearly taking its toll. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just…” His grip on you tightened, his hands shaking slightly. “Please, don’t hate me… I need you…” His voice faltered, and you could feel the tremor in his body as he clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather the words to say, but before you could form anything coherent, Heeseung’s lips were suddenly on yours. His kiss was urgent, a little sloppy, as though he was trying to drown out whatever feelings were swirling inside him. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you could feel the weight of his need against you.

"Stop," you whispered weakly, your hands pushing against his chest, but it did little to stop him. If anything, he just leaned in further, his lips moving with a frantic energy as he kissed you harder.

You pulled back for a moment, gasping for air, but Heeseung wasn’t letting go. His forehead rested against your neck as he breathed heavily, his lips brushing against your skin. “I need this,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice muffled but laced with desperation. “I need you.”

You tried again, more forcefully this time, pushing him back slightly, but his grip on you tightened. “We need to talk,” you managed, your voice breaking, your hands trembling as you tried to create space between you two. “You can’t just keep doing this—coming to me when you’re drunk, acting like nothing happened—”

But Heeseung didn’t seem to hear you. His eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you again, this time a little more gently, though it still held that same desperate edge.

You couldn’t help but respond, even if you didn’t want to. Heeseung was like a drug, and you were already too far gone, as his kiss deepened and his hands roamed, you couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of your mind, reminding you that this wasn’t how things should be. You deserved more than this chaotic cycle, more than the confusion, the highs and lows.

But in that moment, you let him hold you, let him kiss you, because you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Not when he needed you like this, not when you still felt that pull, even though you knew it wasn’t healthy.

And when he finally pulled away, looking at you with those dark eyes full of longing, you were left breathless, conflicted, and unable to move.

✰ ✰ ✰

It was like a cruel game he played—one step forward, two steps back. After the night, when he’d clung to you, he’d returned to his old ways at school, completely shutting you out. It was as if the moment he left your apartment, the walls came back up, and he was back to pretending you didn’t exist.

You’d see him in the halls, laughing with his friends, flirting with other girls, completely ignoring you like everything that happened between you two meant nothing. It was maddening.

You tried to act like it didn’t bother you. You went through the motions, keeping your head down, focusing on your schoolwork, your friends, anything to distract yourself from the constant ache in your chest. But the more he ignored you, the more you realized just how much it hurt. And it hurt even more because you knew that he wasn’t like this because he didn’t care. He was like this because he was scared. Scared of what was between you, scared of how vulnerable it made him.

Heeseung was a complicated mess, a boy who wanted everything but feared the very thing that could make him feel whole. And you? You were stuck in this limbo, torn between wanting to confront him and just walking away before you got hurt even more.

It was exhausting.

One minute, he was the boy who couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t stop kissing you, the one who made you feel like the only person in the room. The next minute, he was a stranger.

You were deep in thought, trying to make sense of the mess that was Heeseung, when you suddenly felt a presence beside you. Turning to your left, you saw a guy you barely knew—someone who kept to himself at school, never talking much. He was standing there, a nervous but hopeful look on his face, and before you could even react, he asked, “Hey, would you like to go out sometime? Maybe grab a coffee?”

You opened your mouth to decline, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t make him feel bad, but before you could say anything, an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in close with surprising force.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you instinctively stiffened as you turned to see none other than Heeseung standing there. He leaned in just enough to block your view of the guy, his eyes focused on the nervous stranger.

Before you could protest or say anything, Heeseung’s voice cut through the tension, casual but firm. “She’s not interested,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The quiet guy who had been asking you out now looked taken aback, stepping back a bit, unsure how to respond.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Heeseung had just walked up and made it clear to someone else that you weren’t available. You wanted to say something, to protest, but you couldn’t find the words. It felt as if everything had suddenly flipped upside down.

“I—uh…” The guy stammered, clearly intimidated by Heeseung's presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He turned quickly and walked off, leaving the two of you standing there in silence.

You snapped back from the suprise and pulled away from Heeseung’s grip, your mind spinning. “What the hell, Heeseung?” you managed, your voice laced with frustration.

He didn’t say anything at first. His gaze flickered to where the guy had disappeared, and then back to you.

You stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but instead, Heeseung just stood there, his expression unreadable.

"What’s your problem, Heeseung?" you demanded, stepping back. You couldn’t contain the anger that was rising in your chest. "Why are you acting like this?"

He ran a hand through his messy hair, his eyes avoiding yours for a second. He let out a frustrated sigh before meeting your gaze. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, the words almost sounding like a confession. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Your heart sank a little, but it didn’t stop the fire that was still burning inside you. You’d had enough of this back-and-forth.

"Then figure it out," you snapped, pushing him off. "I’m not going to keep doing this, Heeseung. Get your shit together."

He didn’t say anything more, but the look in his eyes—so conflicted, so full of uncertainty—said everything.

You turned on your heel, walking away before he or you could say anything. You didn’t know if you were making the right decision, but you couldn’t keep letting him drag you around like this.

It was later that night, after you’d gotten a bit of distance and time to cool down, when you heard the familiar sound of your doorbell ringing again.

You froze for a second, unsure if you wanted to deal with him yet again, but the quiet, hesitant knock that followed told you it wasn’t the same as before. You found yourself standing by the door, hands gripping the doorknob, hesitant to open it.

When you finally did, your breath caught in your throat. There he was, but only.. not the usual version of him you were used to seeing. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale, and he looked... broken.

His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time in a long time, there was no bravado. He was standing there, vulnerable, as if unsure of how to approach you after everything.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He wiped his face with his sleeve, almost embarrassed. “I fucked up. I know I’ve been an asshole… but I needed to see you. I need to talk.”

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything. It was hard—too hard. You’d spent so much time questioning his intentions, wondering if he even cared. Seeing him like this, so exposed, made you feel conflicted. Part of you wanted to push him away for all the hurt he’d caused, but another part of you wanted to reach out and hear him out.

“Why now?” you asked quietly, your voice betraying the frustration you’d been holding back. “Why come to me like this? After everything?”

He looked down at the ground, visibly struggling. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know. I’ve been running from this. From you. From how I feel. And now I’m just… lost.” His words were shaky, like he was trying to hold onto his composure but was failing. “I’ve been an idiot, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Everything felt like it was happening too fast. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead he stepped closer, and for the first time, there was no arrogance in his movements, no cocky confidence. He looked genuinely lost, as if he was desperately trying to figure himself out. “I don’t know what I’m doing… but I know I want to fix it. Fix us. If you’ll let me.”

You took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling a little with uncertainty. “You’ve been so hot and cold. One minute you’re all over me, the next you act like I’m invisible. How am I supposed to trust that this is real?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was gathering the courage to say what had been haunting him. When he spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper. “I know... I’ve been a mess. I was scared,” he confessed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things that… terrified me. And instead of coming to you, talking to you about it, I ran. I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that.”

The way he was standing, so different from how he used to act, made you reconsider everything. He wasn’t hiding behind walls anymore. “I don’t want to be scared anymore,” he added quietly, his voice cracking just slightly. “I want to be with you. If you’ll allow me.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what to say next. You were so unsure now, seeing him spill his heart out for you.

“I don’t feel this with anyone else,” he said softly. “No matter how hard I tried to push it down, it’s always been you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.” He paused for a moment, before he dropped down to his knees in front of you, taking both your hands gently in his, while his eyes never left yours. “I don’t know what I was waiting for. I was stupid, I was scared. But I know now... I love you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry for making you feel like you were nothing. You’re everything to me. Please... let me prove it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a long moment, all you could do was look at him, trying to process what he’d just said. You had never imagined he’d say those words, especially after everything that had happened. But now, as he knelt before you, his hands still holding yours with such gentleness, it felt different. It felt real.

Doubts still lingered, but as you looked at him—really looked at him—kneeling before you, his hands gripping yours, something inside you began to shift.

The truth was, you loved him too. Despite everything—the hurt, the confusion—you couldn’t deny that your heart ached for him. And seeing him like this, open in a way you never thought possible for him, made you realize how much you wanted to believe in him, in this. You took a slow breath, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. “I don’t know, Heeseung…”

He didn’t pull away, didn’t try to say anything more. He just waited, his gaze never leaving yours, hopeful but patient.

You looked down at his hands still holding yours, his fingers trembling slightly. “I’ve been hurt, and I don’t want to be hurt again,” you said, your voice wavering just a little.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve hurt you, and I’m so sorry. But I promise, I’ll do anything to make it right. Just… let me try.”

Your heart ached at his words. And slowly, almost hesitantly, you nodded. “Okay. We can try.”

He exhaled sharply, relief flooding his features, but you could see the uncertainty still lingering in his eyes. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but something inside you told you that this—he—was worth trying for.

He stood up, his hands still holding yours, and pulled you gently into his arms. You let him, your body instinctively melting into his embrace. He buried his face in your hair, his breath warm against your neck.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I’m going to make you see that I mean it.”

Staning there in his arms, the doubts slowly began to fade. Maybe it would take time. But you felt hope stirring within you. Maybe you could try to make this work.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to read your emotions. His hand still cupped your face gently, waiting for a sign from you. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice low, filled with both uncertainty and hope.

"Yes."

Without another word, his lips descended onto yours, and the kiss was everything. Deep, urgent, and filled with so much emotion that it took your breath away.

When you started to feel breathless you tried to pull away, your breath ragged, but each time you did, he followed you, his lips catching yours again, desperate, insistent. Your heart raced, and your head spun as you tried to pull back for a moment’s reprieve, but Heeseung wasn’t having it.

"Please," he groaned between kisses, his hand gripping your waist tightly. "Just—just let me…" His voice was rough, desperate, as if your lips were the only thing keeping him grounded. "I need you. You… You make my heart beat. You make everything else fade. I want to breathe you in until I can’t breathe anymore."

His words were tangled, like he couldn’t get them out fast enough, like he was trying to make you understand something, but what, exactly, you weren’t sure. His kisses grew more frantic, more needy, and despite your attempts to catch your breath, you couldn’t help but respond to him.

You finally managed to gasp out his name, your voice barely a whisper, "Heeseung... Stop, I need to breathe."

He paused for a split second, just long enough for you to catch your breath, his breathing just as erratic as yours. "I can't... can't stop," he muttered. "You're all I think about... all I want."

✰ ✰ ✰

It was funny how much things had shifted since Heeseung’s confession. You couldn’t deny the change in him. He meant every word he’d said that night, and he made sure to show you just how serious he was about being with you.

Heeseung was intense in everything he did, and his love for you was no exception. It wasn’t just in the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the room, or the way he clung to your hand like letting go would mean losing you. No, it was in the small things too. The way he remembered the little details about you, how he stayed up late just to make sure you got home safe from your late-night shifts, or the way he’d pepper your face with kisses whenever he thought you looked stressed.

And then, there were the nights. Heeseung had always been passionate, but now that he wasn’t holding back, it was overwhelming in the best way possible. He left no part of you untouched, no part of your heart unloved. Your skin bore the evidence of his intensity, faint marks that lingered long after his lips had moved on, a testament to just how much he adored you.

He didn’t just say he loved you; he showed it. In every kiss, every touch, every whispered word, Heeseung made sure you knew just how much you meant to him. And while it could get a little overwhelming at times, you couldn’t deny that it felt good—so good—to be loved so completely.

Heeseung's love was all-consuming, and with it came an intensity that left you breathless. He made it his mission to show you just how deeply he cared. But he never lost the playful side that made you fall for him in the first place.

He still teased you relentlessly, knowing exactly how to make your cheeks flush. “What’s that look for, baby?” he’d smirk when he caught you staring, leaning in close to whisper, “Can’t get enough of me?” His confidence was maddening, but you’d learned to give as good as you got.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with you like you were strangers meeting for the first time. “Hey, gorgeous,” he’d say, slidling up to you with a grin. “Come here often?” It didn’t matter if you were at your desk or in the middle of a crowded hallway; Heeseung always found a way to make you laugh and roll your eyes at his antics.

But then, he’d do a 360 and leave you utterly disarmed. Like the way he’d wrap his arms around your waist out of nowhere, pressing his lips to your ear to murmur, “I love you so much.” It was whiplash, the way he could go from cocky to soft in an instant, and it kept you on your toes.

Now that you had Heeseung basically wrapped around your finger, it felt empowering. He catered to you, always quick to appease your whims, and he seemed to thrive on your happiness. Whether it was picking up your favorite snacks, carrying your bag, or pampering you after a long day, Heeseung was yours—and he made sure you knew it.

But he had his limits.

There were moments when he reminded you that, while he adored you, he wasn’t completely under your control. Like when you pushed him too far with teasing, a playful remark about him being “so soft” for you turning into a challenge in his eyes.

One such night, you’d been cheeky, testing how much you could get away with. “You’ll do anything I say, won’t you?” you’d teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, the shift immediate. “Anything?” he repeated, voice low and laced with something that sent shivers down your spine. Before you could process, he had you pinned, his hand firm but careful as it held your wrists above your head.

“You like to push me, don’t you?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Think I’m all soft and sweet?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he showed you just how wrong you were. Heeseung wasn’t rough in a careless way—he was calculated, controlled, and oh-so-intense. He left no room for doubt about who had the upper hand in those moments.

By the end of it, you were breathless, your legs trembling as you clung to him for support. Heeseung’s smug grin and the way he kissed your forehead tenderly afterward only made it worse.

“Still think I’m soft?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from your flushed face.

You couldn’t even answer, too dazed to form words, which only seemed to please him more.

The next day, walking was a challenge, and Heeseung, ever the charmer, had the audacity to chuckle when you winced. “Told you there’s only so much I’ll let you boss me around,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

It was infuriating, but it was also Heeseung. And if you were being honest, you loved every second of it.

a/n: finished this while waiting for the train to come, in the snow storm :) reblogs and commentary are appreciated <33

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[atlabeth]

(please) spare me indignity

pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies. 

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it. 

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box. 

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy. 

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break. 

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.” 

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?” 

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.” 

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well. 

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.” 

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?” 

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. 

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.” 

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open. 

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good. 

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home. 

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere. 

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.” 

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away. 

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would. 

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again. 

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out. 

You frown. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!” 

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.” 

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it. 

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.” 

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says. 

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it. 

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest. 

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.” 

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back. 

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.  

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason. 

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him. 

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself. 

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care. 

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away. 

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls. 

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” 

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly. 

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person. 

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.” 

-

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off. 

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are. 

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room. 

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn. 

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—” 

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look. 

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?” 

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask. 

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says. 

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation. 

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize. 

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.” 

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.” 

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you. 

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one. 

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.” 

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it. 

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks. 

“Fine,” you say. 

He frowns. “Really?” 

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.” 

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,” Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—” 

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt. 

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says. 

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?” 

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—” 

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.” 

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.” 

“Am I not allowed to joke?” 

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.” 

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.” 

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?” 

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.” 

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—” 

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?” 

“A couple spoonfuls but—” 

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends. 

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask. 

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.” 

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.” 

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?” 

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.” 

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you. 

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?” 

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says. 

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?” 

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.” 

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine. 

“Do they have any leads?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?” 

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.” 

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than  usual, but you drink it anyway. 

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.” 

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.” 

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.” 

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.” 

“You’re not going to die.” 

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.” 

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out. 

“Want one?” 

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.” 

“You should.” 

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock. 

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.” 

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?” 

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.” 

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.” 

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response. 

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now. 

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that. 

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you. 

-

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much. 

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever. 

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him. 

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true. 

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace. 

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion. 

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?” 

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.” 

Spencer sits up. “What is it?” 

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.” 

“Who is it?” he asks. 

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—” 

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.” 

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?” 

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.” 

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.” 

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.” 

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.” 

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.” 

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.” 

There’s nothing but silence on the other end. 

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—” 

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—” 

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?” 

“...Some,” Spencer says. 

“Like?” 

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him. 

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.” 

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.” 

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.” 

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.  

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says. 

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.” 

“Spencer—” 

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?” 

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him. 

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom. 

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you. 

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach. 

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear. 

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters. 

He hangs up without another word. 

[iamgonnagetyouback]

childhood sweethearts and paper rings

james potter x reader where you both realize your love through paper rings

↬ word count : 3,438 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : fluff overload, pining, a sprinkle of angst but resolved quickly, excessive paper rings

↬ inspired from : (a bit) ➺ paper rings by taylor swift ♡

↬ author's note : childhood best friends to lovers is james potter’s ultimate trope. argue with the wall.

navigation┆james potter masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚

James Potter was seven years old when he decided that he was going to marry you. He didn’t understand much about marriage—only that it meant you’d be together forever, which sounded like the best thing in the world. After all, you were his best friend, and if forever wasn’t you, then who else could it be for?

The Potters and your family were close friends, and most weekends, you were bundled into the fireplace to floo to their house. James would meet you on the other side, grinning wildly and already tugging your arm to drag you outside. The two of you were inseparable, whether you were building forts in the garden or chasing each other around with toy brooms.

“Sunny, you’re supposed to catch it!” James exclaimed one summer afternoon as he tossed a quaffle your way. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up impatiently.

“I’m trying!” you yelled back, laughing as the ball sailed past your outstretched arms. You were too busy giggling to notice James running to retrieve it. He came back with dirt on his knees and his hair even messier than usual.

“We’ll practice until you’re as good as me,” he declared, puffing out his chest in mock importance.

You scrunched up your nose, sticking your tongue out at him. “What if I don’t want to be good at Quidditch? What if I want to be the best cake-eater in the world?”

James grinned, his own cheeks turning pink. “Then I’ll be the second-best. We can do it together.”

By the time you were eight, James had discovered the fine art of crafting paper rings. It started when he saw his mum making origami flowers for a party. Naturally, he wasn’t allowed near the good parchment—but his dad handed him some scraps, and the rest was history.

The first paper ring James gave you was lopsided, crumpled at the edges, and had a faint ink smudge from where he’d tried to draw a flower on it. You’d accepted it with wide, delighted eyes, slipping it onto your finger like it was made of gold.

“What’s this for?” you’d asked, holding it up to inspect the crooked folds.

“It’s…” James hesitated, suddenly bashful. “It’s a promise. You’re my best friend, and I’ll always be there for you.”

You grinned so brightly he thought his chest might burst. “I’ll always be there for you too, Jamie!” you chirped, and the name stuck, much to his parents’ amusement.

At nine, you and James built a treehouse. Or at least, you started to. James had insisted on using magic, and after much begging and wheedling, his mum had charmed a few planks of wood into place.

“It’ll be our secret hideout,” James said as you hammered nails into the rickety ladder.

“For what?” you asked, holding the ladder steady. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, and there was a streak of mud on your cheek, but you couldn’t have been happier.

“For… secret plans,” James decided. “Like how we’ll sneak extra pudding without anyone noticing.”

You beamed. “And maybe we can put all the paper rings here too. Like a treasure chest!”

He thought that was the best idea ever.

By ten, James had made you more paper rings than either of you could count. Some were decorated with little doodles, others with clumsy attempts at flowers or hearts. You kept them all in a shoebox under your bed, treasuring them like the precious artifacts they were.

One rainy afternoon, you and James sat cross-legged on the rug in his room, watching the droplets streak down the window.

“Sunny,” James said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you know what love is?”

You tilted your head, considering. “Not really. I think it’s when someone makes you really happy. Like my mum when she bakes my favorite cookies.”

James nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. I think it’s when someone does things for you. Like… like when you gave me the bigger half of your pie last week.”

You grinned, your toothy smile making his cheeks heat up. “Then I think love is when you gave me your scarf when I was cold.”

He grinned back, lopsided and bright. “Maybe love is when we’re best friends forever.”

When you turned eleven, everything began to change. A letter arrived, delivered by an official-looking owl, and James practically dragged you across the room to celebrate.

“We’re going to Hogwarts together!” he exclaimed, lifting you off the ground in his excitement. “This is going to be the best year ever!”

You squealed, clutching onto him as he spun you around. “Jamie, I’m so excited!”

Later that day, he gave you another paper ring. It was neater this time, folded carefully with gold-trimmed parchment he’d begged off his mum.

“This one’s special,” James said solemnly as you slipped it onto your finger.

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Because it’s the last one before Hogwarts,” he said. “But I’ll make you loads more when we’re there.”

You beamed, clutching the ring to your chest. “Best friends forever?”

“Forever,” he promised.

And that was the thing about James Potter. Even when he didn’t fully understand what love was, he knew one thing: it was always going to be you.

At Hogwarts, you quickly became part of the infamous Marauders. James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and you. Whether it was sneaking into the kitchens for late-night snacks or plotting pranks on the Slytherins, the five of you were inseparable.

James had a knack for getting the group into trouble, and you had a knack for talking your way out of it.

“It’s not my fault Snape looks so funny when his robes turn pink,” James argued one day, as you all hid in an empty classroom after a particularly successful prank.

“You used an entire bottle of dye,” Remus pointed out dryly, though he was biting back a smile.

“Totally worth it,” Sirius said, high-fiving James.

Peter chuckled nervously. “Do you think he’ll ever figure out it was us?”

“Who cares?” you said, laughing. “Jamie, you’re brilliant.”

James beamed at your praise, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face.

But while James was fearless in most things, there was one subject that turned him into a bumbling mess: Lily Evans, although you understood the feeling, cause she was gorgeous.

“Merlin’s beard, just look at her,” James sighed dreamily one afternoon as the five of you sat under a tree by the Black Lake. Lily was a few yards away, reading a book and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re staring again,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

James turned red. “I am not!”

“You absolutely are,” Sirius chimed in, smirking. “If you’re going to pine, at least do it with some dignity, Prongs.”

“I’m not pining!” James protested, though his voice cracked slightly.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You drew a heart with her initials in your Transfiguration notes yesterday.”

“I did not!” James said, horrified.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “You did. I saw it too.”

You burst out laughing, leaning into James as he groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Jamie, it’s okay to have a crush. Especially if it's on Evans. I do too but the difference is you’re terrible at hiding it.”

“You lot are the worst,” he muttered, though he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

Despite the relentless teasing, you were always James’ biggest supporter. When he finally worked up the courage to ask Lily out in your fifth year, you were the one who gave him the pep talk beforehand.

“You’re James Potter,” you said firmly, gripping his shoulders. “You’re charming, funny, and completely brilliant. If she doesn’t say yes, it’s her loss.”

James smiled nervously. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said confidently.

And even though a small part of you felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite name, you pushed it aside. Because James was your best friend, and you’d always be there for him—just like he’d always be there for you.

It happened gradually, so slowly that you didn’t notice at first. The paper rings, once a constant in your life, became fewer and fewer. By sixth year, they stopped altogether. You told yourself it didn’t matter—after all, you and James were still thick as thieves. He was busy with Quidditch, the Marauders, and his relentless pursuit of Lily Evans.

But deep down, you missed them.

Then one day, an owl from your parents arrived during breakfast in the Great Hall. You tore open the envelope eagerly, only to feel your stomach drop as you read the letter.

The treehouse at the Potters burned down.

Your chest ached as you reread the words. The treehouse, your secret hideout, the place where you’d kept all the paper rings James had ever given you—gone. Reduced to ashes.

You left the Great Hall in a daze, clutching the letter as tears blurred your vision. It wasn’t just a treehouse. It was years of memories, laughter, and promises that now felt lost forever. You needed to tell James. He would understand.

You found him in the courtyard, a broad grin on his face as he spoke animatedly to Lily. She was laughing, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight, and for a moment, you hesitated.

Then you saw it: a paper ring in his hand. Your heart clenched painfully as he turned it over in his fingers, showing it to Lily with the same excitement he’d once reserved for you.

You felt a lump form in your throat. It was silly, really. You’d known for years that James fancied Lily. You’d encouraged him, teased him, supported him. And yet, seeing him with a paper ring—your paper ring—meant for her…

It felt like losing a part of yourself.

You turned on your heel and walked away before he could see you, the letter crumpled in your hand. As you hurried back to the common room, you tried to push the image from your mind, but it clung stubbornly.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Maybe Lily had finally agreed to a date. Maybe the ring wasn’t even for her. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But the ache in your chest told a different story.

You didn’t sleep much that night. The weight of the treehouse’s destruction—and the memories it held—pressed heavily on your chest. When morning came, you dragged yourself to breakfast, your usual bubbly demeanor dimmed.

James was already there, sitting with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, recounting some Quidditch play. He caught sight of you as you approached, and his grin faltered.

“Morning, sunny,” he greeted, nudging the bench beside him. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

You plopped down next to him, twisting the edge of your sleeve. “James… the..the treehouse, it burned down.”

His face froze, confusion quickly giving way to shock. “What?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

You handed him the crumpled letter. He read it, his expression shifting to heartbreak. “Our treehouse? The one we built with my mum’s old cushions and all the fairy lights?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “All the paper rings… they were in there, James.”

For a moment, he just stared at the letter. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you like they used to when you were kids, and you buried your face in his shoulder, letting the familiar scent of parchment and pine comfort you.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think—I didn’t realize—”

You missed the way his breath hitched, his soft oh of realization. Missed the quick glance he threw across the table to Lily, whose knowing gaze met his. Her lips curled into the faintest smile, as if she understood something neither of you had quite pieced together yet.

But you were too caught up in the hug, too lost in your own heartbreak to notice anything else.

James Potter was not one to do things halfway. The moment he realized how much those paper rings had meant to you, he made it his mission to bring them back into your life in abundance. It started small—a single paper ring folded neatly and tucked into your Potions book during class.

“James,” you whispered, holding it up with an amused smile. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Trouble’s my middle name,” he whispered back, grinning mischievously before turning back to Slughorn’s lecture like he hadn’t just slid a tiny masterpiece of folded parchment into your life.

But James Potter didn’t stop at small. Soon, the paper rings started appearing everywhere. One in your bag during Transfiguration. Another tucked into your scarf at breakfast. A stack of them slid under your pillow one night. He even charmed one to float down from the owlery like a paper snowflake as you walked past.

The grandest moment came during Defense Against the Dark Arts. James, thinking he was being discreet, crept over to your desk mid-lecture to slip a particularly colorful ring onto your parchment. Just as he leaned down, a shadow loomed over both of you.

“Ahem,” Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the room like a knife. The class went silent, every head swiveling to witness James Potter caught red-handed.

James straightened, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Just delivering a very important piece of classwork, Professor,” he said smoothly, holding up the paper ring as if it were a prized essay.

McGonagall’s lips twitched, though she worked hard to suppress a smile. “Very well, Mr. Potter. But if I catch you again, you’ll be writing lines until your quill runs out of ink.”

“Yes, Professor,” James said solemnly, though his wink to Sirius betrayed him.

As McGonagall turned back to the blackboard, you swore you saw her glance over her shoulder and wink—wink—at you. For a moment, you questioned your sanity.

By the end of the week, you had more paper rings than you knew what to do with. You didn’t have the heart to throw them away—not after all the effort James had gone to—so you started collecting them in an old chocolate box you found in your dorm.

Every night, you added the day’s rings to the collection, tracing your fingers over the creases and folds as you smiled to yourself. It was ridiculous, really. They were just bits of paper, after all. But each one felt like a tiny promise—a reminder of a boy who made the world brighter simply by being in it.

It was another morning at the Gryffindor table, and James was unusually quiet. Normally, he’d be drumming his fingers on the table, bantering with Sirius, or laughing at something Peter said. But today, he was poking at his eggs, lost in thought.

Remus noticed first. Of course, he did. “You haven’t mentioned Lily in a while,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened? Did she finally hex you into silence?”

Sirius barked a laugh, and Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice. But James just shrugged, looking nonchalant.

“Oh, yeah, about that,” he said casually, as if he weren’t about to drop a bombshell. “Well… that’s not happening.”

Your fork clattered onto your plate. “Really?” you blurted, a little too loudly. You immediately ducked your head, heat rushing to your cheeks.

James smirked, but it wasn’t his usual mischievous one—it was softer, more thoughtful. “Yeah, she kind of pointed out that I might have feelings for someone else.”

The table went silent. Even Sirius, who rarely let anything keep him quiet for long, was staring at James in surprise.

“And?” Remus prompted, leaning forward like he already knew the answer.

“And I realized… she was right,” James admitted, his voice quieter now.

“Oh,” you said softly, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” James said, turning to look at you with a curious expression. “It is.”

For a moment, his hazel eyes seemed to search yours, like he was trying to figure out if you knew what he meant—if you felt the same.

But before he could say anything else, Sirius, who clearly couldn’t handle the suspense, interrupted with a loud, “So, who’s the lucky person, Prongs? Don’t leave us hanging!”

James flushed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he grabbed a piece of toast and stuffed it into his mouth, muttering something unintelligible.

“Oh, come on,” Sirius teased, elbowing him. “Out with it, mate!”

But James just shook his head, laughing nervously. “Not telling,” he mumbled through a mouthful of toast.

The conversation shifted after that, Sirius dragging Peter into a heated debate about whether or not owls secretly judged their owners, and you found yourself staring at your plate, your thoughts spinning.

You didn’t know what to make of James’ words. Who was he talking about? Was it someone you knew? Was it… you?

You glanced at James out of the corner of your eye. He was laughing now, teasing Peter about his messy handwriting, but there was something different about him—something softer.

You pushed the thought away. It couldn’t be you. Could it?

The Owlery was quiet, save for the soft hoots of the owls roosting in their perches. You had just tied your letter to your parents onto a barn owl’s leg, stroking its feathers as it took off into the morning light. Beside you, James was doing the same, his handwriting as messy as ever but filled with his usual warmth and charm.

As his owl soared into the sky, you lingered by the ledge, watching the horizon. James leaned beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the kind that came with years of friendship. But you couldn’t stop thinking about breakfast, about what he’d said, and about the way he’d looked at you.

“So,” you started, your voice soft, “this… someone else you might have feelings for.”

James froze, his hands gripping the stone ledge. “Oh,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “That.”

You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah, that.”

James rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Right. Well…” He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?” you asked, taking a step closer.

He glanced at you then, his hazel eyes searching yours. “Because, well because it’s you,” he said quietly.

The words hung in the air, delicate and trembling. You stared at him, your mouth slightly open in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” James said, his cheeks flushing pink. “It’s always been you, I think. I just… didn’t realize it until Lily pointed it out. And then when I thought about it—about us—it just made sense, you know? You’ve always been there. You’ve always been you.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “James…”

“I know it might be weird,” he said quickly, misinterpreting your silence. “And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just thought you should know, because I—”

“I feel the same,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

He blinked at you, his mouth hanging open. “You do?”

You nodded, a shy smile spreading across your face. “I do.”

For a moment, James just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, slowly, his lips curled into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen.

“Brilliant,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You laughed, the sound light and bubbly, and he joined in, his joy infectious. Before you knew it, he was stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours.

“I, uh, don’t have a proper ring,” he said, his voice nervous but warm. “But…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar folded strip of parchment.

Your breath hitched as he gently slipped the paper ring onto your finger, his touch lingering. “There,” he said, his smile soft and a little shy. “Perfect.”

You looked down at the ring, your chest swelling with warmth. It was so James—simple, sweet, and utterly wonderful.

“Perfect,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

When you looked up, he was already watching you, his hazel eyes filled with something so soft and tender it made your knees weak.

“Does this mean you’re stuck with me?” you teased, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling.

“Forever, if you’ll have me,” James said, grinning.

And as the owls cooed above and the sunlight bathed the two of you in gold, you knew you would. Forever and always.

[yumeka-sxf]

Relatively short new chapter today, but still a lot to unpack! While we didn't get a ton of Melinda lore yet, as the majority of the chapter was Loid saying things to try and win her over, I found it interesting to see insight into one of his "fake" therapy sessions.

As usual with all the conversations he has with people in his "Loid Forger" persona, if the topic gets heavy, he'll end up saying things that are, what I believe, what he truly feels. This is usually preceded by him dropping the forced smile and showing a glimpse of a more thoughtful expression, for example, in the below panel when Melinda comments on how strong and "lively" she thinks Loid and Yor are. He then goes on to tell her that there's no crime or shame in not being strong enough.

While it is debatable whether he's being genuine here or not, I can't help but be reminded of similar conversations he's had with Yor in the past...way back in chapter 14 where he told her how tiring it can be to put up a facade all the time. And then much later in chapter 86 where she tells him, in her own way, that he doesn't have to be strong and "perfect" all the time.

I'm probably reading too much into it, but it's just something that came to mind 😅 But on the topic of Melinda saying they're "lively," the word she uses in the Japanese version in 健全な ("kanzenna") which is more like "healthy, sound, stable, etc" (the first kanji is "healthy/strong," and the second is "whole/all.") So yeah, a slightly different nuance than "lively."

I also smiled when I saw that Loid still calls Yor "Yor-san" in his thoughts ❤️

It wouldn't be a SxF chapter with at least a subtle hint at something "darker" going on or has gone on...in this case, we hear a bit of Melinda's thoughts about the post-war time.

But the big shocker was obviously the final page where she claims that Donovan is an alien. I checked the Japanese version to make sure, and she does indeed use the term 宇宙人 ("uchuujin"), which is "alien" in the traditional sense.

Upcoming plot twist...this previous Endo art for short mission 10 will turn out to be canon 🤣

Joking aside, I don't think that Donovan is literally an alien, as mixing a truly sci-fi element like that into the world of SxF would be too jarring. So probably something that Donovan has done made Melinda come to that conclusion. As for what it is about him that that would make her think this is debatable - his involvement in science experiments/Project Apple? If he actually has the ability to read minds, is this the explanation she's come up? Or maybe he wants her to think this for some reason? There's also a theory that she doesn't actually believe he's an alien and is only saying it to test Loid in some way. Whatever the reason is, we'll have to wait until next time for more answers!

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> smut, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yunho ( centric ) x reader warning(s) -> smut, mdni. 18+ words -> 2.4k

abstract -> collateral damage is inevitable for lifetime karma...

y/n’s perspective

Mingi fit in perfectly… but he missed his lifelong friend.

He admits he does and often has his mind wander with a sad look of reminiscence when reminded of Yunho… but he acknowledged that he wouldn’t change anything as long as he was here again.

“You’re doing quite well with the book right?” Chenle asked, taking me away from my thoughts while I nodded. 

“I'm halfway done, but I’m thinking of adding one more character to the main six,” I said. They nodded as Jising read my outline and Chenle skimmed through it.

“I still can’t believe how many hybrids you have now,” Chenle said and I smiled softly.

“But at the same time it makes sense,” Jisung said and we laughed. “To think you have Eunchae to thank for that,” Chenle said and he was right.

She pushed me into going to an adoption center where I met San and that was history. 

“I say we’re gonna have to start putting a cap on how many hybrids you have” Chenle released and I laughed. “Hmm… eight?” Jisung suggested and I rolled my eyes. 

“y/n, he’s all good to go!” I heard as I saw Kun and Mingi. 

“The sweet life changed him a lot you know,” Chenle said and I was confused and so was Mingi. “He looks way happier and healthier than when he came. Besides, he looks good in designer” Chenle and Jisung teased. 

“Her hybrids have a better life than me and Haechan,” Jisung said and I sighed. I turned to Mingi who seemed to be happy by their comments. His tail wagging behind him as he grinned at me. 

“Ready to go?” I asked and he nodded as we left the pair outside of the kennel. “You seem happy after your session,” I said and he nodded. “The doctor said I've improved so much I might be finishing my sessions soon!” he grinned and did the same. 

“We should celebrate!” I said and he looped his arm with mine as we walked to the cafe. I always took him too. As we made it there we waited for a bit to get seated like normal but noticed Mingi tensed up. “Mingi!” I heard as I saw two little kids run up to us. He seemed scared…

“What did I tell you two about running off!” I heard and I sighed… she-devil. “Oh, you… I see you actually adopted the mutt” she said and I rolled my eyes. I noticed behind her carrying leftovers, coats, and her purse was Yunho. 

He seemed wide-eyed seeing Mingi again… I even saw a soft smile appear on his face. 

“You’re quite the hybrid collector, aren't you… runts darling aren’t valuable to anyone though” she said and I scoffed. “Am I supposed to take advice from you?” I asked and she glared. 

“You’re such an immature brat” she muttered and I smirked. “I guess… hey how’s bankr–” “Shut up!” she yelled and left with Yunho sighing and bowing to me before leaving. 

“Are you okay?” I asked and Mingi nodded sadly… “What’s wrong?” I asked and he sighed. “It's strange… seeing Yunho on the opposite side of things. I bet she treats him with the bare minimum unlike how she treated me but… I also never thought I was worthy of being treated better” he confessed and I smiled and held his hand. 

“You're with me now,” I said and he smiled and nodded. “Yeah… thank you,” he said and I chuckled. “You never have to thank me for that. And Mingi? This is the bare minimum… not what she does” I said and he nodded. 

“It’s fine… I was thinking we could order something different today?”

mingi’s perspective

Seeing Yunho confused me… it was a mix of emotions. 

I finally accepted that y/n wanted me. Me of all hybrids. Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and even San wanted me there. Not Yunho… not him. Never have they ever asked about him either. 

Never have I had something that was solely mine away from Yunho and I was happy. 

I missed him… I did. But when I think about how much I missed him, I realize I would have to share this with him. Share them with him. Share her with him. 

It made me feel sick otherwise. 

Sure she has five other hybrids. I shared her with them… more like they shared her with me. But… the thought of Yunho stepping in would destroy me… even makes me feel bitter feelings towards him. 

“You’ve been stuck staring at the ceiling since you came back… do I need to tell y/n you’re acting up again?” Hongjoong asked and I shook my head. “I’m fine…” I said and he huffed as if he didn’t believe me. 

“I am… honest. We saw Yunho at the cafe we go to after my sessions, I just have mixed feelings” I said and he looked at me as if he was analyzing me. “You’ve talked less about Mingi recently… you’ve been here for two months and I haven’t heard you talk about Yunho since… probably a few weeks ago,” he said and I nodded. 

“He’s my best friend… there will never be anything to doubt that but, im content with the life I have now without him” 

y/n’s perspective

For some reason… She requested that our hybrids not be present at all, which worried me. I felt like she was planning something and I didn’t know what.

It was also strange cause Hongjoong was the one who always came with me and now to be alone was worrisome. “You’re here early” I heard as I saw Jaehyun. “Want this over with,” I said and he chuckled.

“I get what you mean, sorry by the way about no hybrids today,” he said and I shook my head. It’s not his fault…

I was just anxious about what she had planned. 

She was an unprofessional woman!

I was currently sitting on a bench trying to cool down and not cry over her comments. She had her kids run around and even spilled water on me several times… not even just once and the girl kept on grabbing my bag plus even put spilled juice on it so now it was sticky. 

The boy also tried to put gum in my hair… I wasn’t having a good day... 

“I’m sorry!” I heard as I saw… Yunho? “I remember you! You’re the hybrid who stole from people! You stole five hundred dollars from me!” a man yelled at the hybrid. Why was he… out and without a collar? 

Yunho couldn’t do anything but let the man scold him. I sighed and took out five bills and tapped the man’s shoulder. “Huh? Who are you?” he asked and I saw Yunho look at me shocked… “Just take it and stop yelling” I said and he seemed embarrassed but took the money and ran away. 

“You didn’t have to do that… I deserved it” he said and I sighed. “Come on Yunho,” I said and he looked confused… but besides that still followed me. We walked in silence until we made it to the hybrid center.

“y/n! What brings… why are you wet?” Haechan asked and I sighed.

“Long story… is Kun or Doyoung busy?” I asked and he shook his head before leading me to Kun’s office while Yunho followed me closely. 

“What are you doing here? And why are you a mess?” he asked and Yunho came inside with me. “Yunho?” he said, confused. “He was on the street alone, with no collar,” I said and he nodded while telling me he’ll be a minute. “Why are you helping me?” he asked and I gave him a soft smile.

“Cause you don’t seem like a bad hybrid… and you’re also important to Mingi,” I said and he nodded. “Is he here then? Last time I saw him, he said you were only fostering him for a week” he said and he looked desperate to see his friend. 

“I actually ended up adopting him,” I said and he grinned. He seemed happy at the sudden news.

“Is he okay then? Happier?” he said and I saw how his tail wagged at the thought of his friend being happy. I smiled and nodded. “He fits in well with everyone,” I said and I saw how his eyes lit up. 

“I’m glad…” he smiled to himself. 

“I’m sorry by the way what she did… she was getting the twins ready to misbehave today and I'm assuming they did,” he said and I sighed. “You can say that,” I said and he looked apologetic. “But it shouldn’t be you apologizing, you did nothing wrong,g” I said and he shook his head. 

“I did… I robbed you and I caused you trouble, so much trouble, and I–" "Yunho, I forgive you. Mingi explained it… you did it cause you needed to. I understand” I say and he sighs. 

“Yunho?!” I heard as I saw the she-devil herself. “How dare you! I’ll sue for stealing my hybrid!” she yelled and I sighed. Was this her plan? “Yunho, can you explain why you were alone in the street?” Kun asked and he looked at me nervously. Was he also in on this? 

“She left me alone in the middle of Seoul… she told me to find y/n and make sure I went with her but I didn’t want to, I promise! She was gonna lie and try to make this a civil affair, I'm sorry!” he apologized and she scoffed. “He’s lying… he must’ve learned that from the filthy wolf hybrid,” she said and I scoffed. 

“I’m sorry, miss but this is going to become a hybrid mistreatment case”

 I finally made it home where I was greeted by Wooyoung’s excited yell welcoming me back. He was rambling as he led me to the kitchen saying they already ate since it was late but how he was gonna prepare a plate for me. 

“Why are you… sticky?” I heard as I saw Yeosang as he touched the stain on my coat. “Little kids will be kids especially if their parents are as immature as them,” I said and he sighed, seeming to know what I meant. 

“Where’s Mingi?” I asked and he hummed. “Why… did something happen?” he asked, looking right through me and I sighed. “I found Yunho in the middle of the street being berated as the thief and… apparently she planned to sue me for stealing her hybrid but he confessed to her tricks,” I said and he looked surprised. 

“She’d go that far? What happened to the giant dog anyway?” he asked and I sighed… “Hybrid Mistreatment Case is now open… I doubt he’ll be under her care anymore but he’ll officially be up for adoption” I said and he nodded. 

“And you want to talk about it with Mingi,” he said and I nodded. “I just… I don't know. He seems to have mixed feelings about him especially when seeing him around with me” I muttered and he nodded. 

“He did say he always had to share things with Yunho… never felt superior to him so it makes sense” he muttered. “Still… I know he misses him. I want him to at least talk to his old friend” I said and he stared. 

“They're bonded aren’t they?” he asked and I nodded. 

“Wooyoung bonded himself to me while San and him are also bonded. The tigers to each other as well… separating a bonded pair can be damaging to the hybrid’s mental health” he explained. “If… you were to one day decide you didn’t want us or… me I’d feel lost too. Like nothing will be the same again” he confessed. 

“Are you bonded to me?” I asked and he smiled. “You’re my mate, angel. Of course, I'm bound to you… even though I could function… other hybrids of yours wouldn’t. Senghwa and I are probably the only ones…” he said and I knew what he meant. 

Like how Wooyoung’s depressive episodes can get and how San lost some of his memories due to the trauma… Hongjoong though as of recently put his life purpose to protect me.

“Don’t dwell on it too much” he said and I nodded. 

“Oh! I wanted to make sure that you didn’t want to go anywhere? I can still make reservations for you–" "And while I appreciate the offer, no thanks… I would rather not leave if I can avoid it and besides with Wooyoung cooking meat for Mingi these last two months I'd rather just order a bunch of fried chicken and eat it here with some cake” he said and I smiled. 

“Ok… but if you change your mind–” he smiled softly and shook his head while I talked “–the offer stands I'll make it work I promise!” I said and he chuckled. “Thank you, angel”

I can’t believe it sometimes…

It's been a fast year with San and Wooyoung but Yeosang as well… next month will mark a year. 

yunho’s perspective

Everything I did… was to make Mingi happy. It made his life a little easier but I think in the end I always did the opposite. I’m the reason he was so down… so bad with his own self-esteem. The reason he thinks he doesn’t deserve the world. 

And yet… I still hope that she changes that. Even if he hates me now.

Every time I’ve seen her with him… he’d look at me with a look of uncertainty… envy, or simply just annoyance…

I deserved what fate brought upon me. In a cage… with nothing else in here but my thoughts. They said I'd surely get adopted again… but it would never be the same. Mingi wouldn’t be with me.

“Yunho, in an hour you’ll be in touch with a social worker in charge of hybrid cases and a lawyer so we need to get you ready” I heard and I nodded. They were now putting on a collar and any procedures they needed for me to talk about her verbal abuse and neglect…

Everything… since I was a kid. And everything that I witnessed Mingi goes through… every punishment he had and the punishment I took in his place to lessen his pain. 

Every physical altercation… any humiliating thing she made us perform. 

Everything I… had to go through in this miserable lifetime… was just me paying for the collateral.

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (final)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 13.4k+

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: protected sex, oral (f. receiving), mentions of hospital, stitches, wounds, injuries, scars, angst (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: wow, i can’t believe my first-ever series is finally over. it’s been almost two months since i started this, and you guys have shown me immense love and support for this story—something i’ll forever be grateful for. a part of me feels sad to let go of these characters, but i think i’ll be coming back with a few drabbles every now and then.

i truly hope you’re satisfied with the ending, and i hope reading this series brought you comfort the same way writing it brought comfort to me. thank you so much to everyone who stuck around until the very end. stay tuned for more of my work. also HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYSSSS i hope all of you have the best year ahead. love you guys <3

final: garden of the open road

"Or maybe you should get her flowers!!" Hoseok chimes, his tone bright and optimistic as he leans over the workbench, twirling a wrench in his hand like he’s just unlocked the secret to the universe. "I mean, flowers solve everything, right?" His grin is infectious, lighting up his entire face as he glances between Jungkook and Jimin for validation.

Jimin, lounging across from him with a barely concealed look of skepticism, raises an eyebrow. "Come on, Hyung. Y/n owns a flower shop. Do you really think giving her flowers would be anything other than redundant? That’s like giving a baker bread... or... or a mechanic spare tires. Think it through." He crosses his arms, leaning back smugly as if he’s already won the debate.

Jungkook remains silent, his attention absorbed by the bike in front of him, polishing it. The rhythmic motion of his cloth on the metal feels almost meditative, but inside, a storm brews.

It's been a week since you stormed out of his shop, and the silence between the two of you has only amplified the weight of his regret. Every word that Yoongi had said to him echoes in his mind... Yoongi's disappointment, his advice, and his harsh yet caring words.

He knows now, with absolute clarity, that he can’t keep doing what he’s been doing. Avoiding, running, pushing you away... it was never just about protecting you, it was also about his own fears. And Yoongi was right... he needs to stay. To show you, not just with words but with actions, that he’s in this. Fully. Wholeheartedly.

Meanwhile, Hoseok and Jimin continue their back-and-forth, brainstorming creative suggestions for Jungkook to make it up to you.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, his thoughts spiraling as he grapples with how to make things right and undo the damage he’s caused. He’s been giving you space, knowing you probably need time to cool off.

But he can’t stop himself from wondering. How are you holding up? Are your wounds healing? Are you still angry with him? Do you still hate him? The questions gnaw at him relentlessly, each one heavier than the last.

Every moment without you feels like a thousand lifetimes, and the weight of his inaction is suffocating. His silence, his avoidance… it’s all been one colossal mistake. He loves you too much to keep fumbling this, and after you poured your heart out to him like that, doing nothing would only cement the fact that he’s the biggest idiot on the planet.

Yoongi was right. Jungkook needs to be with you, not just in the easy moments but in the tough ones, too. He needs to be the person who gives you peace, not the one who makes you question everything.

As Jungkook continues his silent contemplation, Hoseok and Jimin’s bickering grows louder, their voices rising as they try to outdo each other in the "perfect apology to Y/n" department.

The two suddenly pause when the sound of the shop door opening cuts through their debate. All three heads snap towards the entrance, and they see Yoongi walking in, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

He cracks his neck, adjusts his shoulders, and strides towards Jungkook. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pair of keys, and tosses them at Jungkook.

Still seated by the bike, Jungkook barely manages to catch them with his greasy hands. He looks down at the keys, confusion flickering across his face. “You… you got my bike back?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief, his brows furrowing as he lifts his gaze to Yoongi. “Hyung… how did you—?”

Before he can finish, Yoongi shakes his head, cutting him off with a raised hand. “You don’t have to worry about it.” he says, his tone firm. “Just focus on making things right with Y/n. And listen to me carefully... don’t even think about getting involved with Mingyu again. I’m serious, Jungkook. No second chances there.”

The warning in Yoongi’s voice is enough to make Jungkook nod, a mix of gratitude and guilt bubbling in his chest. Yoongi’s sharp gaze briefly sweeps over Hoseok and Jimin, and with a subtle nod in their direction, he turns and heads towards the storeroom.

“Damn, Yoongi-hyung is so cool.” Jimin mutters under his breath, sounding almost awestruck.

“Anyways, like I was saying…” Hoseok begins again, picking up right where they left off, as though the brief interruption never happened. In no time, the two are back at it, listing an increasingly sappy and downright cringey array of suggestions for how Jungkook could apologize to you, the ideas growing more and more outrageous by the second.

Jungkook shakes his head, tuning them out as he looks down at the keys in his hand. He knows that none of their over-the-top plans will work. If he wants to make things right with you, he has to do it his own way... authentic, heartfelt, and real.

He needs to let you know how much he cares, how much he wants you in his life, and how deeply he loves you. No grand gestures or flashy displays. Just him, making it right.

As the minutes tick by, Jungkook finishes working on the bike in front of him. He wipes his hands clean, his mind already racing with thoughts of how to approach you. Just as he’s about to step away from the bike, the shop door creaks open again, drawing everyone’s attention.

This time, it’s Mr. Kwon, the town head, stepping inside. “Hey, boys.” he greets warmly, his gaze sweeping across Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook. Yoongi steps out, emerging from the storeroom and raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Oh, Mr. Kwon…” Yoongi says, folding his arms as he leans casually against the wall. “What brings you here today?”

“Ah, nothing too pressing.” Mr. Kwon replies calmly as he fixes his suit. “I just wanted to inform you boys about the meeting at the townhall this Friday. The agenda is to discuss the upcoming community drive-in movie night that will be happening on Sunday. It’s an annual event we do for fun and fundraising.”

“A drive-in movie night?” Hoseok’s eyes light up, leaning forward with genuine excitement. “I didn’t even know we did things like that around here! That sounds amazing.”

“It’s one of our most cherished traditions.” Mr. Kwon explains with a nod. “We set up a big screen on the old field just past Main Street. Everyone gathers in their cars, bring snacks, and enjoy the movie under the stars. It’s also a way to raise money for community projects. Last year, the proceeds went towards renovating the public library.”

“Oh wow, that sounds amazing!” Jimin chimes in, his tone enthusiastic. “Do people suggest the movie beforehand, or do you just pick something classic?”

“We like to keep it democratic.” Mr. Kwon replies with a chuckle. “That's why there's a meeting. People pitch ideas, and then we take a vote. It keeps everyone involved and ensures we pick something most people will enjoy. Last year, it was Back to the Future. Quite a hit.” he explains and the boys nod, giving him approved hums.

“So it would be great if you boys showed up on Friday.” he adds, glancing around at the group. “We could all sit down and decide what to watch together.”

“Of course, Mr. Kwon. We’ll be there.” Yoongi says with a small smile, straightening up from his casual stance. Hoseok and Jimin eagerly nod in agreement, their excitement evident. “Well then, I’ll see you all on Friday.” Mr. Kwon says warmly, before stepping out of the shop.

As the door shuts close, the shop falls into a brief silence. Jungkook, who has been standing still the whole time, listening to the exchange without a word, finally moves. He steps away from the bike and towards the counter, his expression thoughtful.

The town meeting. He wonders if you’ve heard about it too and the idea of you being there stirs a mix of anticipation and unease in him. Just the thought of seeing you, after everything, makes his chest tighten and his head spin.

//

"So, you're gonna go back to the shop from next week?" Seokjin asks, gently placing the dinner he just prepared onto your small dining table. His voice is calm, but the concern in his eyes flickers as they briefly land on your bandaged hand.

You nod, offering a faint smile. “Yeah. I can’t just sit at home any longer.” you reply.

You’ve just returned from the hospital with your friends after getting the stitches removed from your head. You glance down at your hand, where the injury is slowly starting to heal.

Thanks to Taehyung and Namjoon, the repairs of your shop have been completed... each detail meticulously taken care of, with them keeping you informed every step of the way.

Over the past week, your friends have been your unwavering support. They’ve cooked for you, comforted you, and stayed by your side, especially after you opened up about everything that happened with Jungkook. They didn’t have all the right words, truth be told, there weren’t any, but their presence alone was enough to carry you through.

You’re not okay, not completely. But you’ve begun to accept the harsh reality that maybe… just maybe… things with Jungkook aren’t meant to be.

That thought cuts deep, especially considering how he hasn’t reached out since that moment. Perhaps you were too harsh, too out of line when you called him a coward, even though all he wanted to do was protect you.

Yet, a part of you still feels a seething anger. You miss him, more than you care to admit and the emotional storm inside you leaves you confused, raw, and aching.

"Also..." Taehyung starts, catching your attention as you glance at him from across the table. "Mr. Kwon called all of us for a meeting at the townhall this Friday." he says, his voice steady but with a hint of excitement. Juwon nods in agreement. "Yeah. It's about the drive-in movie night." she adds.

You’ve known about the drive-in movie night for a while, and you expected it to happen soon, just like it always did every year. When things became official between you and Jungkook, you’d often daydreamed about the two of you sitting together in a car, hands intertwined, sharing pretzels and popcorn while watching a movie.

You never mentioned it to him. It was just one of those scenarios you let your mind wander to. But now, that dream feels like a bitter memory, especially with how things ended between you and him.

Still, despite everything, you know you want to attend. You’ve always enjoyed participating in these fundraising events with the people of your town, and the thought of missing out doesn’t sit well with you. "Will you be coming?" Namjoon asks carefully, his gaze soft and understanding.

You smile at him, your heart a little lighter, and nod. "Of course. Let’s all go to the meeting together." you say, glancing around at your friends.

//

Friday sneaks up on you, and before you know it, you, Juwon, and Taehyung are strutting down the pavement towards the townhall. Juwon has her arm looped through yours, clinging tightly to you like a koala. “It’s freezing!” she whines, shivering dramatically.

“It’s not that bad.” Taehyung says, hands in his pockets. “You’re just overly dramatic.” he shrugs. “Says the guy who wears four layers when it’s below 20 degrees.” Juwon fires back.

Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Excuse you, I’m fashionably layered, thank you. There’s a difference.”

The chilly banter keeps you distracted until you step inside the townhall. Almost immediately, Mrs. Han spots you. “Y/n!” she exclaims, rushing over. Before you can blink, she’s holding your arms and scrutinizing your face like a worried mom.

“How are you, dear? My goodness, look at this scar. Oh, those boys! Nasty, nasty boys!!” she huffs, her face scrunching in outrage. You smile weakly, trying to reassure her. “I’m doing better now, Mrs. Han. Really.”

She shakes her head, unconvinced. “Better? Better?! I heard they just had to pay a fine. A fine! That’s like paying for parking after committing a hit-and-run. Absolutely ridiculous! I hope karma runs over them with a dump truck.”

Juwon chimes in, nodding furiously. “Preferably a truck full of cow poop.” she says and Mrs. Han agrees with her, her expression serious. You bite back a laugh, trying to keep it together. “Thank you, Mrs. Han. I appreciate your concern.”

As you inch away, you pass more familiar faces, each one stopping to check on you. The flood of questions and well-meaning outrage is almost too much, but you manage to navigate through the crowd and find Namjoon and Seokjin, who’ve saved seats for all of you.

You plop down in the chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I’ve survived the auntie inquisition.” you say. Namjoon chuckles. “You’re braver than I am. Mrs. Han once interrogated me for twenty minutes about why I don’t eat enough spinach.”

Seokjin smirks. “Spinach is important. Haven’t you seen Popeye?” Before you can retort, Taehyung slides into his seat. “So, what movie are we voting for? I say Shrek. It’s a masterpiece.” he says. Juwon groans. “Taehyung, not everything can be solved with ogres.”

“First of all....” he replies, raising a finger. “Shrek is a cinematic masterpiece. Second of all, it’s funny, heartwarming, and has layers. It’s perfect.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m betting on something classic, like Forrest Gump. You know, a movie that makes you think about life.”

Seokjin snorts. “More like a movie that makes you think about shrimp. Shrimp gumbo, shrimp soup, shrimp salad…” he says as Taehyung giggles. “Okay, but what about Mean Girls?” Juwon suggests. “Everyone needs a little high school drama now and then.”

“Oh my god... I can quote that entire movie.” you add with a grin. “So fetch.” you say, winking at your friends. Taehyung dramatically raises an eyebrow. “Stop trying to make fetch happen. It’s not going to happen.” he beams and the group bursts out laughing, and for the first time in a while, you feel a little lighter.

While you and your friends continue to laugh, Jungkook lingers by the entrance of the townhall, his gaze fixed on you. He notices the absence of the bandage around your head, the way your laughter fills the room, and the brightness in your smile that feels almost contagious.

It’s such a stark contrast to the image burned into his mind from a week ago... your pain, your tears and though he knows he isn’t the reason for that smile or your happiness, he feels a quiet relief seeing you like this.

“Stop staring.” Jimin’s voice cuts through his thoughts, low and teasing. He nudges Jungkook with his shoulder, breaking his trance. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“I wasn’t staring.” Jungkook mutters, his jaw tightening slightly. “Sure, sure.” Jimin retorts with a smirk, gesturing towards the hall. “Now move, loverboy. People are trying to get in.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook steps further inside. As he walks past your group, your laughter rings out again, soft and warm. It tugs at something deep inside him, bittersweet and impossible to ignore. He glances at you briefly, the temptation to linger overwhelming, but you or none of your friends notice him. Maybe that’s for the best.

He follows Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi to the back, where they quietly settle into one of the last rows. Slumping into his seat, Jungkook sneaks another glance your way.

You’re surrounded by your friends, immersed in their lively chatter, and for a fleeting moment, he lets himself just observe. Seeing you like this... laughing, smiling... is somehow enough to ease the ache in his chest, even if he’s not the reason behind your happiness.

For now, that will have to be enough, at least until he musters up the courage to finally talk to you.

Eventually, Mr. Kwon steps onto the dais, commanding the room's attention with his usual calm authority. He begins the meeting, and as expected, what follows is a spirited and seemingly endless debate about which movie to screen for the drive-in event this Sunday.

Suggestions fly across the room, each met with enthusiastic agreements or vehement objections. Some champion a nostalgic classic, while others argue for something modern and thrilling.

The discussion grows lively, with raised hands, animated gestures, and occasional laughter rippling through the crowd. Mr. Kwon, ever the patient mediator, lets the town hash it out, his steady gaze sweeping over the sea of opinions.

Eventually, a consensus is reached... a fun, family friendly timeless classic that everyone agrees will be perfect: The Parent Trap. Satisfied murmurs fill the air as Mr. Kwon finalizes the details, his booming voice carrying over the low hum of excitement.

As the meeting concludes, the energy in the room begins to shift. People gradually drift towards the exits, chatting in clusters as they wrap up their conversations.

Your friends are caught up in their own moments. Namjoon stands by the side, deep in conversation with the grandpa from the bookstore, their voices low and amiable. Taehyung and Juwon hover near Mrs. Han, listening intently as she animatedly recounts some anecdote. Seokjin, ever the comedian, laughs with one of the local kids at the back.

You find yourself standing quietly amid the bustle, a small pocket of stillness in the lively atmosphere. You have the sudden urge to take a moment for yourself, just to step out and catch a breather.

The noise and movement of the hall fade into the background as you quietly slip towards the door, seeking the cool embrace of the evening air.

You walk carefully away from the town hall, the faint hum of voices and laughter fading behind you. The soft glow of the streetlights reflects off the pavement, casting long, quiet shadows that stretch into the night.

Eventually, you spot a bench nestled under a tree, just far enough from the hall to feel secluded but close enough to hear the occasional burst of laughter from the remaining crowd.

Without hesitation, you make your way towards it, the crisp evening air brushing against your skin. Taking a seat, you lean back, exhaling slowly as you let the weight of the day settle over you.

Despite the lively meeting and the buzz of energy around you earlier, your mind has been elsewhere, caught in an endless loop of memories and emotions. Back at the meeting, while the townsfolk were fervently debating over the movie choices, your gaze had wandered... and landed on him.

Jungkook was sitting at the back, his figure partially hidden behind the other people. At first, you weren’t even sure it was him, but when you caught sight of his side profile, the way his hair framed his face, you knew. For a fleeting moment, your eyes lingered on him, drawn like a magnet.

You don’t know if he noticed you, he gave no sign that he did. But just seeing him was enough to stir something deep within you... a longing you’ve tried so hard to bury.

The memories, the outburst, the ache of everything, all of it came rushing back with a vengeance. You miss him. Not just in the quiet moments when you’re alone but even in a room full of people, with laughter and chatter all around, you still miss him. So much.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you close your eyes, surrendering to the quiet embrace of the evening. The breeze whispers across your skin, cool and gentle, carrying with it the faint scent of the earth after dusk.

Above you, the leaves sway softly, their rustling a rhythmic lullaby that contrasts with the chaos unraveling in your mind. Thoughts you’ve tried to bury rise to the surface, each one heavier than the last. You let them swirl and settle, the weight of them pressing against your chest.

For a brief moment, you allow yourself to simply feel, untangling the knots of emotions that have been wound too tightly for too long. Then, the faintest shift in the air pulls you back. It’s subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows... the unmistakable presence of someone nearby.

Your eyelids flutter open, hesitant, as if you’re afraid of shattering the fragile stillness around you. When your gaze shifts to the side, your breath catches.

Jungkook stands a few feet away, the soft street light casting delicate shadows across his face. His expression is unreadable at first, but his eyes… they speak volumes. They hold a hesitance, a yearning, and something deeper... something that pulls at the threads of your heart.

You blink slowly, your pulse quickening. “Y/n…” he murmurs, your name falling from his lips as though it’s a prayer, fragile and reverent, laden with everything he can’t say.

The sound of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and instinctively, you look away, unable to meet his gaze. The emotions surging within you feel like too much... sharp, raw, overwhelming.

Without a second thought, you rise from the bench, the sudden need to put distance between you and him overtaking all reason.

You move quickly, your feet carrying you past him. The weight of his presence feels unbearable... the memories, the words exchanged, the vulnerability you showed him, all crashing over you like waves. Each step you take feels like an attempt to outrun the past, to escape the heaviness that standing before him seems to evoke.

But Jungkook doesn’t let you go.

Before you can get far, his hand reaches out, firm yet gentle, catching your wrist. His fingers curl around it, his touch warm and grounding. “Wait…” he says, his voice louder now, tinged with desperation. You freeze, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Jungkook stares at the back of your head, his breath shallow, his heart drumming in his ears. The warmth of your skin beneath his fingers feels like a tether, keeping him steady even as his emotions threaten to overwhelm him.

“Please…” he repeats, softer this time, his voice cracking as though each word costs him something. There’s a vulnerability in his tone, a rawness that slices through the storm in your mind and roots you in place.

You don’t turn around. The silence stretches, settling heavily between you. You feel his hand slip from your wrist, the absence of his touch as startling as its presence.

For a moment, you hear nothing but the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of life in the town. Then, his footsteps draw closer. “Y/n…” he says again, his voice steady but achingly tender. “Would you please look at me?”

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening as you will yourself to move, to do something but your body refuses to obey. You remain still, a statue carved from conflicting emotions, unable to summon the strength to face him.

Feelings of embarrassment and awkwardness surge through your veins because, frankly, you don’t know how to look him in the eye after the way you unraveled last week.

But beneath the vulnerability lies another emotion... a flicker of anger. A part of you is still just a tiny bit mad at him, for how he handled everything. For the way he didn’t show up when you needed him most, for the way he shut you out when all you wanted was to be let in.

And now, standing here, completely unprepared and caught in the unrelenting pull of his gaze, you feel trapped. The hurt, the resentment, the yearning... they all collide within you, creating a maelstrom of emotions that leaves you frozen.

So, you do nothing. You let the silence hang, your feet rooted to the ground as you wrestle with the chaos inside.

Minutes pass, or perhaps it’s only seconds... time feels warped, stretched thin under the weight of the silence. And then, suddenly, you feel his arms carefully snake around your waist, the movement almost hesitant, as though he’s unsure of his place.

Your breath hitches as he gently pulls you back, his chest pressing firmly against your back. His warmth envelops you, seeping into your skin, and his breath grazes the curve of your neck, soft and uneven, carrying with it the weight of emotions he can’t put into words. There’s a fragility in his touch, a silent plea, as if he fears that holding on too tightly might cross a line.

Your body stiffens at the contact, every nerve igniting under the intensity of his presence. His touch burns through you like a fire, its heat both searing and soothing, a contradiction that leaves you reeling. For a second, you sway on the edge of surrender, the thought of leaning into him tugging at the corners of your mind.

“Y/n…” he whispers, your name tumbling from his lips, heavy with sorrow and regret. His voice quivers, faltering as the words fight their way out. “Please, just… just give me a chance to explain myself. I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry... sorry for everything.” he says, his tone raw and husky, cracking under the weight of his emotions.

You feel his arms tighten around you, as if afraid you might slip away. The grip is firm yet tender, grounding yet fragile, and you close your eyes, surrendering—if only for a moment—to the storm of emotions stirring within you. Almost involuntarily, you lean into him, your body finding solace in the warmth of his embrace.

Time seems to still as you stay there, the world outside fading into an indistinct hum. Slowly, your hand rises, hesitating before it rests gently on top of his where it rests on your stomach.

You inhale deeply, the steady rhythm of his breath against your shoulder grounding you, even as your heart pounds furiously against your ribcage.

For now, you allow yourself this momentary indulgence... to bask in the bittersweet safety of his hold, the unspoken solace of his touch, and the ache of longing that lingers between you.

“You could’ve reached out…” you whisper, but it cuts through the stillness. Jungkook stiffens behind you, his grip faltering ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. “You could’ve called, you could’ve texted…” you continue, your words trembling under the weight of everything.

Slowly, you flutter your eyes open, the reality of the moment settling in like a quiet storm. “But you didn’t, Jungkook.”

He says nothing, his silence deafening, and for a second, the unspoken emotions between you feel suffocating.

Then, as if the universe conspires to tear you apart, your phone buzzes in your pocket. The sharp vibration feels like a cruel reminder of the world waiting outside this fragile moment. You don’t even check the screen... you know it’s probably one of your friends, calling to ask where you disappeared to.

You seize the interruption as an excuse. Gently, with the hand that rests on his, you grasp his wrist and peel his arms away, stepping out of his hold. “I… I have to go.” you say, your voice barely holding steady as you take a step forward.

You don’t turn to face him... you can’t. If you do, you know you’ll crumble under the weight of his gaze, those deep, expressive eyes.

You pause for a moment, teetering on the edge of staying, of turning back. The urge to look at him, to search his face for answers, nearly consumes you. But you don’t. You inhale sharply, steeling yourself, and before he can say or do anything to stop you, you’re gone.

As Jungkook watches you walk towards the town hall again, he stands frozen, realizing just how crucial timing truly is. How he should have seized the opportunity to make things right, especially when you came running to his shop, pouring out everything that had been frustrating you.

How, instead of fighting Mingyu, he should have been by your side at the hospital.

How, from the very beginning, he should have set aside his pride and admitted to himself that he liked you all along instead of being mean and hurting you with his words.

Timing. It’s always about the damn timing.

But somehow, even now, as the chance to run after you and stop you slips through his fingers, he remains rooted to the spot like a statue, trapped by his own hesitation.

//

You sit in your apartment, tapping your foot against the floor, the faint rhythm filling the otherwise quiet room. You glance at your phone to check the time— 7:14 PM.

It’s Sunday evening and tonight is the night of the drive-in movie and Namjoon had promised to pick you up, along with your other friends. With the movie scheduled to start at 7:30 PM, worry begins to creep in as the minutes tick by with no sign of your friends.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you get up from the couch. Deciding to head downstairs, you grab your shoes, figuring it’s better to wait outside rather than pacing your apartment like a caged animal.

Just as you slip them on, your phone buzzes with a message from Namjoon. “Here.” it reads. A small smile tugs at your lips as you grab your keys and step out, locking the door behind you.

As you step outside your building and onto the pavement, you immediately spot Namjoon’s car parked across the street, its tinted windows glinting under the lights. You allow yourself another smile, shaking your head lightly at his lateness, and make your way towards the car.

“Hey, what took you so lo—” The words catch in your throat, fading into silence as you open the car door and slip halfway inside. The face behind the wheel isn’t Namjoon’s.

You freeze, your hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, one foot still planted on the pavement outside. The air seems to thicken, time itself grinding to a halt as you stare at him.

Jungkook sits there, hands gripping the steering wheel, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “Hey.” he says, his voice low and cautious. He offers a tight-lipped smile, but it falters, and you can see the tension in his jaw.

You blink, the shock rendering you immobile for a moment too long. Finally, your instincts kick in, and your body shifts as if to retreat. But Jungkook moves faster.

His hand reaches out, gently but firmly catching your wrist. “Wait.” he pleads, his voice suddenly louder, tinged with desperation. “I know… I know I’m the last person you expected to see.”

Your chest tightens, a flood of emotions crashing over you all at once. But his words stop you. “I know I screwed up...” he continues, his voice softer now, almost trembling.

“But… can you just... please... stay? Just watch the movie with me tonight. I… I begged your friend to let me borrow his car because I knew you’d get in if you thought it was him. I know that was weird and probably selfish, but I didn’t know how else to approach you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. His hand, still holding your wrist, is warm, as your thoughts spiral. “I just… I need to talk to you. To be near you.” he says, his eyes searching yours, his vulnerability raw and unguarded. “Please... Please just give me this one night. One chance to make things right.”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable, cutting through your walls like a blade. For a moment, you can only stare at him, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you shift your leg inside, settling into the passenger seat. You pull the door shut with a soft click, leaning back against the seat as you let out a shallow breath.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his grip on the steering wheel easing just slightly as relief washes over him. The tension in his shoulders loosens, though his eyes remain cautious, as if afraid one wrong move might shatter the delicate moment.

Without another word, he starts the car. The engine hums to life, filling the silence with its steady rhythm. As the vehicle begins to move, the atmosphere remains heavy, a mix of unspoken words and lingering emotions that neither of you dares to address... yet.

Your gaze remains fixed on the passing scenery, a blur of streetlights and faintly illuminated signs. Jungkook doesn’t dare break the silence, his grip on the steering wheel firm, knuckles taut as if anchoring himself.

It doesn’t take long before the car turns onto a gravel path, the tires crunching softly beneath them. You glance up, your attention pulled from the window by the faint glow of string lights strung overhead. They stretch out like a welcoming canopy, casting a warm, golden hue over the open field ahead.

Rows of cars are parked neatly on the wide, open lot, their occupants huddled inside, watching the massive screen that towers at the far end. It’s the typical drive-in movie setup, just like it's done every year... a sprawling outdoor space surrounded by trees, with a concession stand glowing warmly off to one side.

The screen flickers, signaling the movie is about to begin. Jungkook steers the car into an empty spot towards the back, away from the denser cluster of vehicles gathered closer to the center.

He turns off the engine, and for a brief moment, neither of you move. The quiet hum of the field surrounds you as your gaze remains fixed on the screen ahead, watching the movie’s opening sequence unfold.

Jungkook hesitates, his fingers hovering over the radio knob. “I’ll tune it to the station for the movie.” he murmurs, his voice tentative, as if testing the fragile peace between you. He twists the dial slowly, stopping only when the audio from the movie fills the car.

You turn your gaze out the window, watching the faint glow of the screen flicker across your features. The scene outside is almost idyllic... random couples perched on the hoods of their cars, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, sharing snacks as they watch the film.

Your chest tightens as the image before you clashes with the one you used to picture... you and Jungkook, sitting together just like this, cuddled up with his arm draped over your shoulders, laughing softly as you both watch the movie.

The sting in your heart is sharp, but you force yourself to look away, willing the ache to subside. You shift in your seat, eyes reluctantly focusing back on the movie playing on the big screen.

Then, near the gearshift, a faint buzz catches your attention, and almost instinctively, your eyes flicker to Jungkook's phone resting in the console. It’s probably just a random notification, but that’s not what holds your gaze. It's his lock screen.

It’s a photo. Of you. The one he took on your first date, when he playfully tucked wildflowers into your hair and insisted on capturing the moment.

Jungkook notices your silence and follows your gaze. The second he realizes what you’re looking at, his lips part slightly, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. With a nervous twitch, he flips his phone over, as though the simple action could erase what you just saw. But he can’t erase it. And neither can you.

A quiet tension thickens between you both. Jungkook leans back against the seat forcing himself to watch the movie, his posture stiff.

You, on the other hand, can feel your cheeks burning, a strange warmth spreading through you at the realization that he kept a picture of you as his lock screen. Of that moment. A picture you had no idea meant that much to him that he wanted to see it every time he unlocked his phone.

The movie plays on, but the sound seems to fade into the background, your thoughts swirling, caught in a delicate web of emotions you can’t untangle. Finally, you can’t hold it in anymore. "So..." you start, your voice hesitant but soft.

Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, a startled expression crossing his face, but he doesn't speak, waiting for you to continue. You keep your eyes fixed on the screen, avoiding his gaze, though your heart races. "When are you going to start talking?" You ask, the words hanging in the air, laced with a quiet challenge.

Jungkook feels the air escape from his lungs, realizing he can't stay silent any longer. In that moment, he knows he's the one who needs to speak up. If there's any hope of mending things with you, he has to step up... take action, be bold, and stop running from what he’s been avoiding. He has to stop being the coward he’s been.

"I..." he starts, his voice wavering slightly at first. "I thought you wanted to watch the movie. So I was saving it for later." He forces the words out, trying to sound steady, but his gaze flickers nervously.

You turn your head towards him, meeting his eyes with an intensity that makes his chest tighten. "Do you really think I’m worried about the movie when you’re right here?" you ask, your voice soft but firm, your gaze never leaving his.

"Jungkook, you got me here tonight. You asked me to join you. The movie is literally the last thing I care about." Your words settle in the car, quiet but weighty, as though they’ve landed somewhere deep inside his chest.

Jungkook stares into your eyes, the warmth and longing there making his heart ache. His eyes flicker over the familiar details of your face, and it lands on the scar on your head, hidden behind strands of hair. His breath hitches before he finally exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he struggles to find the right words.

"I... I don’t even know where to begin...." he murmurs, closing his eyes momentarily, as if trying to summon the courage. "I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I broke up with you, and if Mingyu didn’t see us together anymore, he’d leave you alone." He opens his eyes slowly, locking them with yours as if he can’t bear to look away now.

"I really thought I was protecting you." He falters again, the weight of his emotions pressing against his chest. "I... I just wanted to keep you safe. That’s what I told myself, anyway. But looking back, I can see how stupid that was. So... so stupid." he adds, his voice breaking slightly.

"I didn’t realize the damage I was doing until you came to my shop that night. It wasn’t until I saw how hurt you were that I finally understood... the full extent of my mistake."

His eyes glisten with regret as he speaks, his voice trembling. "I felt like the biggest idiot. I didn’t even visit you in the hospital. And to make things worse... I was away fighting with Mingyu. Part of me still believes he deserved it, but I made a promise to you, Y/n, that I wouldn’t let myself get into fights... and I broke that promise."

Jungkook pauses, the silence stretching between you as the weight of his words settles deeper in the air. His breath is unsteady, his chest rising and falling, and you can feel the tremor in his hand as it reaches for yours, the touch tentative and unsure, as if afraid you might pull away.

"When I saw what those guys did to your shop... when I heard about you in the hospital... all I could think about was how I... how I led you into all this misery. How I added so many problems to your life." he murmurs, his voice thick with guilt and regret.

"I felt... so guilty. And I thought that maybe, the best thing I could do was let you go. To set you free from all the pain, the stress, the problems... even though it tore me apart inside."

His grip on your hand tightens, the warmth of his touch desperate, as though holding onto you is the only thing grounding him. His eyes, filled with shame, never leave yours. "I thought that was the only way. That if I stepped back, you'd be better off. But now... now I see how wrong I was. So... so fucking wrong."

A tear slips down your cheek, and despite the pain in his words, your heart aches for him. You want to tell him how wrong he is, how you could never be better off without him, how being apart from him feels like the worst kind of torment. But you hold your silence, letting him speak, letting him pour his heart out.

"I love you. I always have... ever since we got together, a part of me realized what I feel for you... is just... so much more." Jungkook continues, his voice strained. His eyes meet yours again, this time soft and tender, like he’s asking for forgiveness without speaking the words.

"Y/n... I know I messed up. I’ve been reckless. My stupid actions, my irrational decisions... they were all driven by fear, not logic. And in the process, I hurt you." His voice cracks as he takes a deep breath, the pain in his chest evident. "I thought I was the reason for everything going wrong. That it was all my fault. And that thought... it just destroyed me."

His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, as if he needs that small, silent touch to remind him you're still here. His gaze never wavers from yours, his heart laid bare and raw. "But now I know. In the name of trying to protect you, I ended up hurting you the most... and I will always, always hate myself for it."

The sincerity in his voice, the rawness in his expression, pierces through the tension in the air. And in that moment, it’s clear... Jungkook is not just apologizing. He's laying his soul out before you, vulnerable and broken, desperate for you to understand the depth of his remorse.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." Jungkook finally chokes out, his tears falling freely now. "I'm sorry for everything. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. I’m just... so sorry for everything." His voice breaks as the weight of his remorse crashes down, and he crumples under the enormity of it.

He cries, his shoulders shuddering, and through your own blurry vision, you see the raw vulnerability etched across his face. It’s almost unbearable.

Carefully, you move your hand from his and reach out for him. Your palm gently presses against his cheek as your thumb softly wipes away his tears. "Shh..." you murmur, leaning closer towards him.

The space between you feels like it vanishes as you slide your arm around his trembling shoulders, pulling him into a comforting embrace. Jungkook doesn't hesitate as he clings to you desperately, his arms wrapping around you as if you’re his lifeline. Both of you pull each other closer, the familiar embrace engulfing the two of you.

"I’m sorry." he whispers again, his voice muffled as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You feel the dampness of his tears soaking into the fabric of your top, but you don’t care.

All that matters now is the way his trembling form feels in your arms, vulnerable and seeking solace. You hold him tighter, your hand stroking his back in gentle, soothing circles as he sobs against you.

"Please... please take me back." he begs between ragged breaths. "I'll be... I'll be good to you. I’ll stay by your side, and I’ll never, ever leave you alone again." His voice cracks, each word drenched in desperation.

You continue stroking his back, letting him cry into your embrace, your own heart aching at how broken he sounds. "Please, Y/n." he pleads, his voice trembling with hope and fear. "Please tell me you still love me."

"I do... I do love you, Kook." you respond almost instantly, the words spilling from your lips before you even realize it. There’s no hesitation, no doubt. Just the truth. "How could I ever stop?" you whisper, your voice soft but steady.

Jungkook’s breath hitches, and his arms tighten around you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He tugs you closer, bridging whatever small gap still exists between you, the console between your seats now inconsequential. His tears fall harder, but his sobs quiet just a little, as if your words had patched a part of the gaping hole in his heart.

//

As the ending credits roll and the movie comes to an end, you glance down at your intertwined fingers resting on your lap. You lift your gaze to him, only to find his eyes already on you.

Both of you take in the sight of each other... red, puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, swollen lips. Despite the emotional wreckage, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, and Jungkook follows suit with a faint laugh of his own.

"I missed you." he whispers, his voice hoarse but steady, his grip on your hand tightening as though to anchor himself to this moment. "I missed you too." you reply, lifting his hand to your lips. You place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, the warmth of the gesture carrying all the words you can’t seem to form just yet.

Silence stretches between you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It feels like a pause before a fragile moment you both want to hold onto for just a little longer. "I could never be better off without you, Kook." you suddenly confess, breaking the quiet.

"These past few days have been a living hell for me." Your voice wavers, but you push through. "I understood your intentions... I really did. But all I ever needed was you. Just you. To hold me, to tell me everything would be okay, even if it wasn’t. That’s all I wanted."

Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. He nods slowly, his glistening eyes brimming with understanding. "I know." he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly. "I know now. Yoongi hyung... he gave me a piece of his mind. He made me realize how wrong I was. How what you needed wasn’t someone to push you away in the name of protection, but someone who would stay. Someone who would stand by you when everything felt like it was falling apart."

A faint smile graces your lips as you hear his words. "He’s right." you whisper, your voice soft but resolute. Jungkook smiles in return, a small, fragile smile that carries the weight of his regret, the depth of his sorrow, and the immensity of his love.

Leaning over the console, you close the distance between you and press a gentle kiss to his lips. The kiss is soft, lingering, a balm to the wounds you’ve both carried. "I love you." you whisper against his lips, your voice barely audible but loud enough for him to hear the sincerity in your words.

Jungkook looks into your eyes and for a moment, it feels like his entire world revolves around you. You see the way his love for you shines through, raw and unfiltered, and it makes your heart ache in the best way.

When you lean back into your seat, Jungkook doesn’t let you go. This time, he leans forward, his hand cradling your cheek as he captures your lips in another kiss.

But this kiss... this kiss is unlike anything else. It’s not gentle, not cautious. It’s raw, consuming, and electric, charged with everything Jungkook has been holding back for far too long.

Regret seeps through his touch, sorrow lingers in the way his lips move against yours, but it’s love... overwhelming, all-encompassing love that takes over, folding you both into its intensity. And in that wordless exchange, there’s a promise, one you can feel in every breathless second.

You reach out instinctively, grabbing his wrist to steady yourself as the kiss deepens. The console between you feels like a meaningless barrier as Jungkook’s hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a tenderness that contrasts the ferocity of his kiss.

He tilts his head, his nose grazing against yours, and the sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine. Your lips part slightly, inviting him in, and he doesn’t hesitate... his tongue brushes against yours, the intimacy making your head spin.

It’s dizzying, intoxicating, as though he’s trying to pour years worth of love, loss, and longing into this one moment. Every press of his lips feels like an apology, a plea for forgiveness, and a declaration all at once.

Your chest heaves as you match his fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You can feel the desperation in the way he holds you, as if letting go would shatter the fragile thread binding you both together again.

When he abruptly pulls away, his breath comes in ragged gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "If we… if we keep going, I won’t be able to stop." he confesses, his voice low and trembling with restraint. "I’ve missed you too much, Y/n... I've missed you way too much."

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, his words igniting a fire within you. You lick your lips, tasting him there, and your gaze locks with his. "Let’s go to my place." you whisper, your voice soft but certain.

For a moment, he looks at you, as though trying to convince himself this is real. Then, with a shaky exhale, he nods, his hand slipping from your face to intertwine with yours. He presses a final, lingering kiss to your knuckles before starting the car.

//

You yelp in surprise as Jungkook tumbles onto the mattress with you, his weight pressing you into the softness of the sheets while his lips remain locked with yours. The world spins for a moment, the intensity of the kiss leaving you breathless and disoriented.

He nips at your lower lip, a soft, teasing bite that sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. You can’t help the way your hips instinctively buck upwards, the friction sparking a low groan from deep within his chest.

Your top rides up in the movement, exposing a sliver of your skin to the cool air. His fingertips find their way there, cold against the warmth of your skin, and the contrast makes you shiver.

He helps you take your shirt off and his fingers return to feel your skin, his touch is purposeful yet hesitant. "God, Y/n." he breathes against your lips, his voice hoarse and filled with longing.

His forehead rests against yours for a brief moment, his heavy breaths mingling with your own. "You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you."

His words make your heart clench, and you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down into another searing kiss. This time, it’s slower, deeper, filled with all the emotion neither of you could put into words.

His hands trail along your sides, reverent in their touch, while his lips leave yours to press a path of soft kisses along your jawline, your neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your fingers grip his shoulders, and you can’t help but whisper his name... a plea, a confession, a surrender. And as he murmurs yours in return, his voice thick with emotion, you realize that this isn’t just a reunion, it’s a rebirth. A rebirth of everything this once was.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes glistening with unspoken words. His thumb brushes tenderly against your cheek as he cups your face, his touch so delicate it feels like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“This...” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly. “This feels like the first time I’m breathing again, Y/n. Like I’ve been holding my breath this whole time without you.” His words hit you with the weight of everything you’ve both endured.

Tears blur your vision, but you blink them away, wanting to see every inch of his face, to commit this moment to memory. “I don’t ever want to lose this again.” you reply softly, your voice cracking as you reach up to trace the line of his jaw. “I don’t ever want to lose you again, Jungkook.”

His lips curl into the faintest, most heartfelt smile, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “You won’t.” he vows, his voice steady now. “I won’t let go. I’ll hold onto you with everything I have, for as long as you’ll let me. I’ll prove it to you every single day.”

His words are a promise, one that you feel in the way his hands tremble slightly as they caress your skin, in the way his lips press against yours with a mixture of passion and reverence.

“I’ll let you.” you whisper back, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. “I’ll let you, as long as you let me hold onto you too.”

He kisses you slow again, as if he’s relishing every second of this rebirth. It’s not just a kiss... it’s an agreement, a merging of two hearts that have finally found their way back to each other.

Jungkook pulls back, his breathing heavy as he rises to his full height. His hands grip the hem of his shirt, and in one fluid motion, he tugs it over his head, tossing it aside without care. The sight makes your breath catch.

You prop yourself on your elbows, your eyes roaming over the expanse of his body, drinking him in like he’s a masterpiece come to life.

The faint sheen of sweat on his skin makes him glimmer faintly, accentuating every dip and curve, the sharp cut of his collarbones, the hard planes of his abs, and the faint v-line that disappears teasingly beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes linger on the way his jeans hang low on his hips, revealing just a sliver of the waistband of his boxers, and your throat tightens. You missed seeing him like this.

Jungkook catches the way your gaze darkens, and his lips quirk up in a faint smirk, though his own composure wavers when he sees the way you’re looking at him... like he’s the only thing that matters.

His dark eyes flicker down to you, taking their time as they trace the delicate curve of your collarbones, the way your bra frames your breasts, pushing them up just enough to make his mouth water. His gaze drops to your stomach, the smooth expanse of your skin, and the way your muscles tense under his scrutiny.

He exhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his gaze trails back up to your lips, then your eyes, his resolve crumbling. Your beauty just cannot be comprehended and his jeans suddenly feel unbearably tight, the outline of his hardened length pressing against the fabric painfully.

“Fuck...” he mutters under his breath, his voice low and strained, and you see the way his jaw tightens, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. "If you keep looking at me like that..." he pauses, his eyes fixed on yours. "I'm going to lose it."

You gulp at his words and watch the way he steps back slightly, his hands moving to the button of his jeans. You watch as he undoes them with practiced ease, sliding the denim down his legs.

The thin fabric of his boxers does little to hide the extremely prominent bulge beneath, and your breath hitches as your eyes lock onto the way his hardened length strains against the material.

With one swift motion, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down, letting them pool at his feet. His length springs free, thick and hard, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him... veined and heavy, the tip glistening faintly in the dim light.

Jungkook’s chest heaves as he takes a step closer, his hands moving to your legs. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down along with your underwear in one smooth motion.

“Fuck, Y/n... look at you.” he breathes, his voice almost reverent. His gaze locks onto your glistening core, the way it clenches around nothing, slick with arousal that almost drips onto the sheets. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, his pupils blown wide as he takes in the sight before him.

His hands tremble slightly as they settle on your thighs, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “You’re... perfect.” he whispers as he leans in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he takes a deep, shaky breath, the scent of your arousal making his head spin.

You whimper at the way he delicately touches you as you close your eyes, pressing your head against the mattress and your hands grasping for purchase on the sheets. "Fuck, Y/n…" he mumbles, his breath ghosting over your core and making you shiver. "Please... let me... let me taste you."

And before you can even form a coherent thought, he pulls your thighs apart and jerks you close until he’s right there, between your legs, his hot breath fluttering over your soaking wet core. “My gorgeous girl.” he murmurs, his eyes flickering up to yours as he drags a thumb through your folds.

He watches the way you bite onto your lower lip, your sweaty chest heaving, as he moves his hands up and down your slit. He notices the way you flinch at every movement, every touch. “So wet... So wet for me.” he groans, his thumb pressing against your clit.

Your jaw hangs open at the sensation and Jungkook wastes no time, diving in and pressing his open mouth to your slick center. You feel his tongue darting out, the wet glide of it sending sparks up your spine as he licks a slow circle around your clit.

“Fuck....” you cry out, your hips jerking as his tongue teases your bundle of nerves, the rough drag of it on your oversensitive flesh making you see stars. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to hold yourself up, your head spinning with the sensations flooding through you.

Jungkook moans into you, his tongue flickering out again, this time dragging slowly along your slit. He nuzzles into you, inhaling sharply at your scent, and you feel his nose press into your folds, his breath hot against your core.

“Oh fuck.” you pant, your legs shaking as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy, his tongue sneaking out to flick at your clit, the tip of it fluttering against the sensitive bundle of nerves with a feather-light touch.

Your thighs begin to quake as Jungkook laves you open-mouthed, his mouth hovering over your slit, his tongue lapping at your entrance. "Kook… please... Kook..." you plead, your voice cracking with need.

He looks up at you then as his mouth remains fixed on your core, and the sight takes your breath away. His eyes are heavy-lidded as he watches you. Your lips part, your breaths coming in short pants as he opens his mouth wider, devouring your opening.

His tongue darts out, the wet tip of it flicking over your entrance, and then he’s pushing inside, his mouth closing around you as he eats you out like he’s a starving man and you’re the only sustenance that will satisfy him.

"Fuck, Kook !!" you cry out, your hands scrabbling at the sheets as your head falls back and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You moan, your thighs trembling around his head as he fucks into you with his tongue, his mouth pressed open-mouthed against your core.

Jungkook groans into you, the vibrations making you cry out again as he licks into you, his hands holding you open as he feasts on you. His tongue flickers inside you, curling as it brushes against your inner walls, the sensation of it making your vision blur.

He eats you out for what feels like an eternity, his tongue sliding in and out of you in slow, sensual strokes. You’re close, so close to the edge, your pussy clenching and aching for more.

The way his name falls from your lips, over and over, like a mantra, sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. His tongue moves against you with practiced precision, each stroke and flick timed perfectly to the rhythm of your desperate cries.

When your legs begin to tremble uncontrollably, your hips bucking against his mouth, he knows you’re close, teetering on the edge of release.

And then it happens. Your orgasm crashes into you with the force of a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for air, your thighs trembling around his head as you arch off the bed. Jungkook groans against you, the vibrations only intensifying your pleasure as his tongue delves deeper, tasting every bit of you.

The tight flutter of your walls around his tongue drives him to the brink of madness. He’s painfully hard now, the strain unbearable as he grips himself, stroking his dick in time with your cries.

His breaths come out in ragged groans, muffled by the way your legs tighten around his head, your hands tangling in his hair and tugging just hard enough to make him growl.

“You’re perfect.” he murmurs against you, his voice husky and reverent, though he doesn’t stop. His tongue moves in long, slow laps, consuming you, drawing out every second of your release as your body quivers beneath him.

When you finally begin to come down, your body going limp and pliant, he doesn’t immediately pull away. He kisses you there, soft and tender, his lips pressing against your sensitive core as if to soothe the aftershocks coursing through you.

Jungkook rests his forehead against your thigh, his breathing heavy and labored as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. His lips are glistening, his cheeks flushed, and the sight of him... disheveled and utterly wrecked from pleasuring you, makes you want him even more.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the sheen of your pleasure still glistening on his lips. His eyes meet yours, dark and smoldering with an unrelenting hunger that sends shivers coursing through your body.

Slowly, he leans forward, his lips brushing against your trembling thighs as though in reverence. His hands roam your hips, fingers pressing into the soft curves with a gentle possessiveness that leaves no doubt of his intentions.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, tinged with awe, as if the sight of you unraveled beneath him is almost too much to bear.

He shifts his weight, moving away from your core, and you feel the absence of his heat like a loss. But then he’s hovering over you, his face so close you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin.

He captures your lips in a kiss that’s tender yet consuming, a prelude to everything he’s holding back. When he pulls away, it’s only to let his lips travel, a slow, meandering path along your jawline, each kiss lingering and full of love.

“I want to make love to you, Y/n.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet the weight of his words presses into you as though they carry the force of a promise. “Let me make it up to you… for everything. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He doesn’t rush as he works to undo your bra, his hands steady. When the fabric falls away, his gaze locks onto your bare chest, and the intensity in his eyes makes your skin prickle with heat. His hands come up to cradle your breast, his thumbs brushing over the delicate curve of your skin and your nipple as though testing the reality of your softness beneath his touch.

“You’re perfect.” he breathes, the words spilling out like a confession before he lowers his head. His lips press against the swell of your breast, trailing kisses that are soft at first but grow more urgent as his need deepens.

His mouth finds your nipple, and he takes it between his lips, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak in a rhythm that makes your breath hitch. His teeth graze ever so slightly, just enough to send a spark of pleasure rippling through you, and you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him closer.

“Oh, God.” you moan, your voice trembling as he sucks on your nipple, his mouth working in perfect harmony with the hand that kneads and squeezes your other breast. His palm is warm, his touch firm but gentle, matching the worshipful pace of his lips.

Jungkook groans softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you and adding another layer to the heady mix of sensations. He switches sides, lavishing the same attention on your other breast, and the deliberate care he takes makes your chest heave beneath him.

“Every inch of you...” he murmurs between kisses, his voice ragged and filled with adoration. “Every inch of you is mine to love.”

His words, his touch, the heat of his mouth... it’s all-consuming, drowning you in a storm of sensations that leave no room for thought, only the overwhelming awareness of him.

Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders as you arch against him, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Jungkook’s worshipful attention feels like a drug, intoxicating and overwhelming, and the heat pooling in your core is undeniable.

“Kook…” Your voice is shaky, a whispered plea, laced with desire and desperation. “Please… Please make love to me. I need you.”

The words ignite something primal in him. He pulls away from your chest, his lips glistening, a thin string of saliva trailing down his chin. His dark eyes fixate on you as you let your hands trail over your own body, fingers grazing the sensitive peaks of your breasts. You spread the remnants of his kisses over your skin, the gesture both sensual and wanton.

Jungkook gulps audibly as he watches you and his restraint shatters, his body thrumming with the need to claim you, to pour all his love and longing into this moment.

He shifts, stretching down the edge of the bed, his hands fumbling for his pants that remains scattered on the floor. His wallet slips out, and as he opens it, relief washes over him when he finds the condom he had tucked away weeks ago, back when you were still in his life.

He doesn’t question the serendipity, silently thanking the universe for this moment, for you.

With swift precision, he tears the wrapper, his fingers steady despite the fire coursing through his veins. He rolls the condom over his length and glides his hand up and down his hardness. Stroking it to full readiness, he lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

The way you’re watching him... your lips parted, your chest heaving, your legs spread in invitation, leaves him utterly undone. “Y/n…” he murmurs, crawling back towards you, his hands finding purchase on your hips. “I’m going to show you just how much I love you.”

"Show me, Kook..." you moan, your voice trembling with anticipation as his tip teases your slick folds. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and instinctively, you spread your legs wider, welcoming him, inviting him. He adjusts himself, his arms bracketing your head, his elbows pressed into the mattress to hold himself steady.

"I'm all... I'm all yours." you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, the vulnerability of your words hanging in the charged air between you. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as you crane your neck, desperate to feel his lips on yours.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both tender and consuming. His hand leaves the mattress, strong fingers gripping your hip as he adjusts your position slightly, angling you just right.

The intimacy of the touch makes your heart race, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles as he restrains himself to not just slam into you. “You’re so perfect.” he murmurs against your lips.

His hand squeezes your hip gently as if grounding himself in the reality of you beneath him, of this moment. When he finally begins to push into you, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you... the stretch, the way he fills you, the way he watches your face, searching for any sign of discomfort.

You gasp softly, your body tensing for a moment before relaxing into the pleasure of being connected to him in the most intimate way. Jungkook groans, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

"Oh baby... I missed you... fuck..." he moans, his voice strained with effort, his breaths shallow as he inches deeper, giving you time to adjust to him. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Finally, he begins to move, each thrust slow and steady, as if he’s memorizing the way your body feels wrapped around him. His full length slides into you with precision, the stretch overwhelming yet addictive.

Your noses brush against each other with every movement, breaths mingling as he maintains his rhythmic pace, taking in every push, every thrust, every deep plunge that leaves you gasping for more.

Each time, he pulls out almost entirely, leaving you aching with the emptiness, only to push back in, filling you completely, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. It’s intoxicating, the way he moves, the care and passion in every motion.

As he continues, his gaze flickers over your face, watching the way your lips part with each gasp, the way your eyes flutter closed when the pleasure crests higher. He swallows hard, his resolve faltering for a moment before he adjusts his position. Carefully, he lifts one of your legs from his waist, guiding it to rest on his shoulder.

The new angle sends him deeper, hitting a spot within you that makes you cry out, your back arching off the bed as your fingers dig into his biceps. “Oh, Kook...” you whimper, your voice trembling as he leans into you, his body pressing you further into the mattress.

"That's it..." he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint as he watches your every reaction while supporting your leg on his shoulder. “You take me so well, baby....so... so fucking perfect.”

His other hand trails down to your hip, gripping it firmly as he begins to thrust a little harder, a little deeper, the pleasure building with every motion. The intensity grows, but he still takes his time, as if he’s savoring every second, every sound you make, every shiver that runs through your body.

The way he fills you, the stretch of your leg over his shoulder, the tender yet passionate way he moves... it’s overwhelming in the best way. Your hands slide down his arms, clutching at him desperately as he drives you closer to the edge, his pace unrelenting yet perfectly controlled.

“Jungkook...” you moan, your voice breaking as the tension in your core coils tighter and tighter. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your ankle. “Faster… please… faster...” you cry out, your plea trembling in the air.

That’s all it takes for him to lose the last shred of restraint. With a growl low in his throat, he pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips possessively as his pace shifts. His hips snap into you, each thrust harder and deeper.

Seconds blur into a haze of overwhelming sensation as he rams into you repeatedly, his tip brushing against a spot deep inside you... a spot you didn’t even know existed. The pleasure is all-consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs as your body arches into him, desperate for more.

Your vision blurs as you’re overtaken by the intensity, stars dancing behind your closed lids. “I love you… fuck, I love you so much.” he rasps, his voice raw with emotion and unfiltered passion. His hips move with an almost animalistic urgency now, his need for you reflected in every powerful thrust, in the way he fills you completely, over and over again.

The coil in your stomach tightens to the point of pain, an unbearable pressure building with every movement. Your hands claw at his shoulders, your head tossing back against the pillows as incoherent sounds pour from your lips, your body trembling beneath him.

“Jungkook… I’m… oh god…” you whimper, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure pushes you to the brink, teetering on the edge of release that feels as though it might shatter you entirely.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, holding onto him as if he’s the only thing keeping you together. He groans at the sting of your touch, his hips slamming into you harder, deeper, as if he’s chasing the very essence of you.

“You’re... you're close, aren’t you?” he pants, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slips between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit. He presses down with just the right amount of pressure, moving in firm circles that make your entire body jolt.

The combination of his thrusts and the attention on your clit sends you spiraling. Your legs tremble around him, and your walls flutter and clench tightly around his length. You cry out, your voice echoing in the room, your hands pulling him closer as if you want to fuse yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby... that's it... cum for me... let go.” he urges, his voice strained as he fights to keep himself together, his own release hanging by a thread. His thrusts grow erratic, each one deeper, harder, more consuming than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then it happens. The coil in your stomach snaps, your orgasm crashing into you with a force that steals your breath. Your vision goes white, your entire body arching into him as waves of ecstasy ripple through you, leaving you trembling and crying out his name like a prayer.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Jungkook groans as your walls tighten around him, gripping him like a vice. The sensation sends him over the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can go, his hips stilling as his own release takes over, his groans blending with your cries.

The two of you ride out the aftershocks together, his forehead pressed to yours as your breathing mingles, heavy and uneven. The world feels still, the only sound in the room your shared pants and the faint thrum of your hearts, beating in perfect sync.

//

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden hue over your room, as your head rests on his bicep. Your fingers absentmindedly play with his as your eyes trace the intricate lines of his tattoos, the delicate patterns swirling along his forearm.

After the intimacy of a warm shower and the tender care Jungkook showed you, the two of you are back on the freshly made bed. The clean, cool sheets are a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers between you, your bare skin pressed to his.

His leg lazily drapes over yours beneath the blanket, an unconscious gesture that speaks of his need to be as close to you as possible.

Jungkook leans in, the weight of his gaze melting away any lingering tension. He presses a kiss to your temple, soft and lingering, before letting his lips brush against the scar on your head... a mark of something from the past, but no longer painful. “I love you.” he whispers, his voice low and full of sincerity.

You tilt your head back to meet his eyes, your own gaze softening. Slowly, you let go of his hand, shifting your body to face him fully. The blanket shifts with you as you wrap an arm around his torso, pulling yourself closer to him.

“I love you too.” you murmur, your voice steady, carrying the weight of your feelings. You move your head closer to his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. His arms encircle you, tugging you closer and holding you as though he never wants to let go.

And in that moment, as the soft embrace of sleep slowly begins to claim both of you, there is a quiet realization that settles in the spaces between your breaths. It’s as though the universe, in its infinite wisdom, has woven the intricate threads of time, bringing you here.

From the days when you were nothing more than neighboring shop owners, each a stranger in the other’s world, to the sharp edges of misunderstandings, to the heated arguments that filled the air with tension. You both once couldn’t stand the mere sight of each other... two souls so different, so distant.

But somehow, through all of that, life found a way to stitch your paths together. From those moments of rivalry at the town fair meetings, when every second seemed to breed another reason for dispute, to this quiet, intimate space where the mere thought of separation feels impossible.

Now, neither of you can seem to imagine a world where the other doesn’t exist. It’s as though your lives were always meant to be interwoven, intricately and beautifully, like the finest of tapestries.

Life has a strange way of bringing two opposing forces together, testing them in ways they never expected, only to reveal the most beautiful of connections.

It pushes and pulls, and in doing so, helps them untangle the complexities of their relationship. It compels them to find the purpose behind their presence in each other’s life... why it was always meant to be, why the stars aligned, even when they didn’t know what they were meant to see.

And through the rough roads, where his rusty bike and prickly tires rattled against the cobblestones, and through the vibrant scent of flowers that lingered in the air, the softness of leaves brushing against your fingers, you both have found something more profound and beautiful than you could ever imagine.

Something that only exists when two souls, through time and struggle, find each other and discover the home they never knew they were looking for.

Post Credits Scene

Yoongi stands in the dimly lit alley, the old baseball racket twirling lazily in his hand. Mingyu, Kihyun, and Jaemin are slumped against the cold brick wall, their faces battered, their hair disheveled, fear radiating from their wide eyes.

The faint hum of a flickering streetlight overhead makes the silence between them even heavier. Yoongi crouches down, his sharp gaze locking onto theirs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What did I say?” he asks, his voice calm but dripping with menace.

The men exchange nervous glances, their bruised faces pale under the weak light. Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but a sharp pang from his injured ankle makes him wince and falter. Yoongi tilts his head, his smirk widening as he taps the racket lightly against the ground. “I’m waiting.” he says, his tone almost teasing.

“Never...” Mingyu manages, his voice hoarse, but the pain makes it hard to continue. “Go on...” Yoongi urges, his voice dropping an octave, the smirk now a warning.

“We’ll never bother Jungkook and Y/n again !!” Kihyun blurts out, his hands rubbing together in a desperate gesture, like he’s begging for mercy. Yoongi rises slowly, letting out a soft chuckle as he swings the racket onto his shoulder, causing all three men to flinch. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The men dare to breathe, thinking the ordeal might finally be over. But Yoongi’s sharp eyes narrow as he steps closer, towering over them. The smirk vanishes, replaced by a cold, calculating look that makes the air feel oppressive.

“Now...” he says, his voice trailing off. “Do I have to beat you guys up all over again, or will you give me Jungkook’s keys?”

<- part 15

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

series masterlist

my masterlist <3

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

[cybrasigilism]

Thanos (Player 230) Smut Drabble

━─━────༺༻────━─━

warning: smut and all things of the like | lowercase intended | degradation | spanking | protection not implied (wrap it before you tap it) | PiV | reader has female genitalia | not proofread

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: thanks for 50+ followers! i appreciate each and every one of you so much :) i just wanted to say that i was thoroughly surprised with how many people wanted me to do a thanos smut drabble because i personally felt my writing for him was less than satisfactory, i’m just happy i was able to do him justice! also, my request box is open! if theres anyone you want me to write for please drop a request there!

MDNI! 18+ content beneath the cut, readers discretion is advised

you and i both know damn well that thanos, player 230 himself, is an absolute freak.

it doesn’t come as a surprise to any of his partners when he goes absolutely buck wild in bed, dude is willing to try and experience just about any and everything just as long as it involves him inside you.

need him to go down on you? you may have to pry him off if you want his cock because he will get lost in the pleasure. he won’t even just eat you out, he’ll suck and lick on your clit while fingering you, working at absolute god speed just to make you cum. need to dry hump? he’s more than willing to let you grind on his thigh while he kisses and marks up your neck, leaving a cluster of hickeys and bite marks in his wake. trust he will be pulling your hair back to ensure you’re thoroughly marked up, not a spot on your neck left unscathed by his mouth.

when it comes time for you to please him, he will grab a fistful of your hair and guide your head up and down his dick, and rest assured that you will without a doubt be deepthroating him. he’s quite vocal when pleasing you, sure, but when the roles are reversed and you’re doing the work on him? such slutty sounds have never before been expelled from human lips, he’ll go on about how good your mouth feels on his cock, how impressed he is with your ability to take the full length of him between your lips. oh and god forbid you lightly graze your teeth over his dick, if you plan on making him cum through a blowjob god please use your teeth.

“oh fuck girl, yeah..that’s right suck my dick just like that fuck” and “god if you keep going like this.. i dunno if i can take it, shit.” are both phrases you can expect to hear, that’s if he’s too far gone to focus on degrading you. if his thoughts haven’t been totally clouded by how good you’re making him feel, he’ll make sure to mock you and be kind of a dick about the whole ordeal. “finally putting that bitch mouth of yours to good use.” “awe, is it too much? can’t take it? too fucking bad.”

when it comes to actually fucking you, it’s face down, ass up all the way. you’ll for sure be leaving the situation with a bruised ass from how much he’ll be spanking you. the hair pulling carries over here too, he’ll pull you back into it while he fucks you senseless, whispering filthy things all the while.

will 100% call you his “personal cum dumpster” and the degradation does. not. stop.

“how does it feel, huh? to be on all fours like the little bitch you are for me? bet no one else could make you feel this good, huh?”

“fuck, you’re such a good cocksleeve, holy shit”

“god, moaning like such a slut for me, didn’t think you were such a needy whore”

when he’s not spanking your ass or pulling your hair back, his hands are firmly affixed to your hips with such fervour that marks being left behind would not surprise you. the twinge of pain that comes when he digs his nails into the grip is something you find yourself waiting for. he knows you love it, to be honest i don’t think he would do any of this if it didn’t get you as wet as it did. trust he will also rub your clit as he fucks you like this, when you end up cumming, it might be too much to handle with how this man attacks your senses from every angle.

biting, scratches, hair pulling, the whole nine yards can be expected when you let thanos use you like this.

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thanks for reading again! you know the drill, any advice/constructive criticism is appreciated and requested! i’m always looking to improve my writing, and of course, more to come :)

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[moody-alcoholic]

Break in

John Price x reader. WC: 1.9k. CW: break in, canon typical violence.

_____

You hate the winter, it gets dark too quickly. The temperature drops and you hate the cold. The worst thing about winter though is how much it makes you miss your husband. Everyone at work talks about getting ready to spend time with their families, or family and friends coming to visit them. You don’t even know if you’ll see John over the Christmas period. 

Last year he left on boxing day, the year before that he was gone for over a week until the 2nd of January. He missed Christmas and new years. You thought you would be used to it by now, him being away but it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. At least this time he’s in London, he’s on a base most of the time. He keeps telling you if he’s lucky he’ll be there until way after the new year. 

That means he comes home at the end of each day, you get to spend time with him and do things you’ve not been able to do in previous years like go shopping for christmas gifts. It doesn’t matter though, it shouldn’t matter, it’s just one day of the year. You could just do a delayed christmas again, it never feels the same though. 

You hitch your bag over your shoulder as you walk through the gate to your townhouse. It’s way later than you would normally get home but the house is still dark so clearly John isn’t back yet either. You’re carrying shopping bags in each hand putting one down so you can fish in your pocket for the house key. You close the gate behind you and make it up to the front door. 

Your body freezes as you reach out for the lock. Your breathing stops, eyes going wide. Goosebumps rise over your skin. 

The door has been kicked in, you can see the damage on the wood where they’ve used a tool to pry it open. 

The shopping bag you’ve got round your wrist is pulling your hand down. You don’t know what to do, you should call the police. No, you should call John, maybe he broke in, forgot his keys? But then why didn’t he call you. There’s a pretty sophisticated security system John installed when you first bought the place. You would have got a security notification if it was activated. 

You drop the bags on the floor backing up down the steps and reaching into your pocket for your phone. Your hands shake as you walk back down the path until you hit the gate. It takes you two attempts to click John's name before you finally bring the phone up to your ear. He won’t pick up the first time, you let it ring out for a few seconds then call him right back. Then he’ll know it’s important. 

“Hey, love. Give me a second.” He says before there’s silence on the like, it feels like the silence is lasting minutes not seconds. You feel a lump rising in your throat, a breath hitches in your throat. You feel silent tears run down your face as you look into the house windows for movement.

“Sorry love. I know I’m late-”

“John, there's someone in the house.” You say before he can finish his sentence. You don’t have time, your heart picks up in your chest. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, the tone of his voice is darker.

“I came home and the door was kicked in.” This time your words come out with a sob. You feel sick.

“Okay, I'm on my way.” You hear shuffling, the sound of keys. You don’t know what to do, panic rises in you.

“Should I call the police?” You ask. 

“No. I’m coming okay, 10 minutes, I'll be there I promise.” You hear him snap his fingers. “Don’t go in the house okay. Stay outside.” You hear a car door close, then another.

“Okay,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll be there soon.” He says then hangs up. You’re still looking in the house for movement, you don’t see anything, the rooms dark. You shiver as a cold breeze moves in, it could snow soon, you don’t want to be outside when it snows. 

…

John turns the normally 15 minute drive into less than ten, even down the congested London roads he breaks several traffic laws to get home. He’ll deal with the fines later, but the last thing he needs is to get pulled over now. 

“What if-” “Don’t even fucking say it.” He snaps at Ghost sitting next to him. His hands grip the steering wheel as he turns down the street towards his house. The place is quiet, it’s almost 9pm. He parks up pulling in so fast he almost hits another car. He can see you, stood on the pavement outside the house, your face red with tears, your arms wrapped around your chest.

They both Jump out of the car and John makes a bee line towards you. His hands come up to cup your face. 

“You’re okay, go wait in the car.” he says brushing your tears away with his thumbs. You nod letting out another sob, he watches as you head over to the car getting in the back.

“Take the top floor, I’ll sweep the ground.” He says to Ghost as he walks through the gate towards the house. John takes the lead removing the sidearm from its holster bringing it into his hands. He toes open the door, the house is dark, there’s no sound, they could be gone already. 

Ghost is silent on his feet moving up the stairs as John continues down the corridor to the kitchen. He brings the weapon up to his eyeline as he adjusts to the darkness. They have an advantage here, they know the layout of the house better than the intruders, hopefully.  

Ghost finds the first guy on the top floor. He’ll be working his way down now. As soon as John is done he will work his way up. The back door was still locked but it could have been locked from the inside without a key. There’s no mess, the place hasn’t been ransacked. They weren't looking for valuables.

The ground floor is clear as John works his way up to the first floor. He heads straight for his home office, maybe they were looking for a different type of valuable. 

John finds the second guy in the spare bedroom. Tying him up and throwing him in a closet with tape over his mouth. No need to shed blood in his home, besides gives him something to do tonight other than paperwork.

He meets up with Ghost outside his office pushing the door open together. The window is wide open with the whole place being ransacked. Ghost walks into the room, looking down out the window. John sighs, they’ve missed one and he has no idea what they could have been looking for. Ghost turns to look at him, putting his pistol away. John already knows what he wants to say.

“Don’t fucking say it.” He sighs putting his own pistol away

…

You’re sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in your hands. John said the place was clear that they didn’t find anyone. Maybe they got spooked when you came home, heard you and ran. That's what you tell yourself to calm your nerves. John walks into the room, he comes over to the sofa and sits down next to you. 

His arm goes round your back and you lean into him. 

“You did great.” He says rubbing your thigh with his other hand. You don’t know what to say. Someone broke into your house, even with all the security measures John put in place someone got past them and invaded your home. 

You’re not even thirsty but you bring the hot tea up to your lips anyway taking a sip letting it burn your throat. 

“What if you weren’t here?” You say, your voice is quiet, your head dipped down as more tears come. The panic and adrenaline gone your mind is filled with what ifs. 

“Don’t worry about that, I have things in place.” His hand comes up to your chin pulling your face up to look at him as you put the tea back in your lap. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

You don’t believe him, it’s going to be a while before you’re going to feel safe in your own home. Even though whoever was here was gone before John got home, they were still here. It could have been so much worse. 

You lean forward putting the cup of tea on the coffee table, it just tastes bitter anyway. His hand rubs your back almost like he’s trying to rub the tension out your muscles. You close your eyes his arms wrap around you as he leans back into the sofa. 

“You’re safe I promise. I would never ever let anything happen to you.” He kisses the top of your head. You let out a long breath, that you believe but it’s not always that simple.

“Will you stay? Please don’t leave, at least not for tonight.” 

“I will, I’m going to be here with you.”  You turn in his arms to look up at him, his deep blue eyes blinking down at you. He leans down pressing his lips to yours. You let yourself sink into the fermilia kiss, his tongue brushing yours as his hands run up and down your body. This is where you feel safe, in his arms, with his touch. 

The knock on the door pulls you out of the kiss, he turns to look. 

“Let me go chat with him then we’ll go to bed okay?” He says his thumb coming to brush the tears escaping your eyes. You nod sitting back up straight.

He’s not gone for long, coming back in and offering you his hand. You take it and he guides you up to bed, his hands don’t leave you, running up and down your body as you make it to the room. He helps you change, pressing kisses round your neck and shoulders, his fingers brushing hair out your eyes and tears when they fall. 

Eventually you crawl into bed together, he rolls over to turn his bedside light off, the only light left on in the room. 

“Leave it on.” You say, you’re not sure why, you just don’t want to be in the dark.

“Okay, whatever you need love.” He says pulling your back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You close your eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing in your ears.

“I will always be here. Even when it feels like I’m hundreds of miles away I will always be here for you.” He says as he kisses your cheek. You smile at his words, even if you’re doubtful, it’s what you need to hear. 

“I love you.” You say as he squeezes you tighter.

“I love you too. You’re safe, you always will be, I promise.” His hand moves down to your waist pulling you against him further. “Get some sleep, I'll be here with you. I’m not leaving your side.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise, I’ll protect you, forever. You’re safe, just get some rest.” He nuzzles his face into your neck. You try to stay awake, fighting the sleepiness that comes over you as he runs his hands over you. You can feel his heartbeat, his warm breath in your ear. 

At least you’re not outside in the cold, you’re warm and safe in his arms. Strangers broke into your home but you know it won’t happen again because John won’t let it happen again. 

____ It was supposed to be short but I don't know when to stop.