#let's all pretend that every time a gun is mentioned

[blank-potato]

need that

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror. Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him. He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?” You blinked, realising you’d been staring. Or You think everything he does is hot, and eventually he takes notice.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, confessions, pining, yearning, all hours are yearning hours for reader

WC: 2.3K

A/N: Thank you @fire-joestar for this request and idea! I have another one for Bob with the same concept coming out at some point. Hope you all enjoy it!

☆☆☆

You wanted John Walker so bad that it was becoming a problem. Friends weren’t supposed to be crazy in love with other friends, but here you were, heart racing every time he so much as looked your way.

It came to the point where he’d be standing still, and you’d just be absolutely losing your mind. The way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirts, it was enough to short-circuit your brain.

Like when he caught you staring and started talking to you about his guns, “This one is pretty good for close-quarters. Lightweight, easy trigger…”

You nod along and pretend to pay attention, but it’s hot the way he’d handle them, all casual and confident. The way his fingers curled around the grip, the intensity in his eyes when he explained the mechanics, you’d transform into a gun right now if you could, just for the chance to be held like that.

“You still with me?” John asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you that crooked half-smile that never failed to melt your brain.

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly, even though he’d lost you as soon as you saw the veins in his hand flex around the barrel. You’re not even sure what he’s talking about anymore. Tactical specs? Firing range? Who cares. 

"Cool," he says, and goes right back to talking shop, completely unaware that you're about three seconds away from combusting.

It was an everyday occurrence. But during training, it was something else entirely. That’s when things really test your self-control.

Flipping you over like you weighed nothing during sparring sessions, he was strong and agile, all precision and power wrapped in that unfairly good-looking package. You found yourself on the mat more often than not, too distracted to fight properly. 

Not to mention listening to him talk, helping direct you on how to angle your arms, how to keep your balance and improve your fighting stance. It was so distracting the way he’d give directions, voice low and focused.

“Right foot here, and I want you to put all your weight behind it when you punch,” he’d say, tapping the mat lightly where he wanted your foot to go.

“Alright,” you murmur, trying not to sound like you're dying inside, and you try again, not quite doing as he instructed. He observes you for a moment, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. 

“Can I?” he asks, hands hovering near your hips, asking for permission, like you wouldn’t let him do pretty much anything. 

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

He moves your hips into place with a firm, steady grip that has no business being that gentle. “Now,” he continues, voice closer now, “shift forward and twist your hips, it has to be all one movement.”

He’d basically been manhandling you, guiding your arms, adjusting your hips until you were exactly where he wanted you. But still, he was gentle and patient, never getting frustrated, always calm, always in control.

And it was so unbelievably hot.

You could only imagine where else those firm instructions and steady hands would come in handy. The way he said, "twist your hips"? Yeah, you were already spiralling.

“I’ve lost you again,” John says, catching the faraway, glazed-over look on your face, one brow raised.

“No, no, I’m… I’m here,” you stammer, blinking hard and trying to pull yourself back into the moment, even though your brain had very much left the building five minutes ago. He smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. And you’re not sure if that’s better or worse.

But you’re hopeless whether or not he’s interacting with you or not. Watching him work out in any capacity was a dangerous game. You were at risk of keeling over and dying on the spot every single time.

Watching him run on the treadmill, sweat glistening on his skin, shirt clinging to every sculpted line of muscle. Or when he boxed, the way his muscles rippled with every jab, every hook, every fluid, powerful movement. You were obsessed.

You put your head in your hands for a second, trying to cool down your spiralling thoughts, then looked back up at him.

He turned to you just then, wiping sweat from his neck with a towel, chest heaving slightly from exertion, and asked, “Did you need something?”

“N-nope,” You stutter out as you walk backwards out of the room, bumping into multiple walls, your eyes not once leaving his shirtless body. 

Though you liked the little things too.

He offers to drive you wherever you need to go, because, well, after a few incidents of reckless driving, your license had been suspended.

In your defence, it was a matter of life and death. Several times. But try explaining that you were being hunted by sword-wielding assassins and not getting laughed out of the room. 

You climb into the passenger seat, trying not to feel awkward about it. 

“Thanks…” You mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He glances over at you, mouth tugging into a faint smirk. “You’re lucky I like you,” he says, teasing just enough to make your chest flutter.

He’s quiet at first, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. The windows are down, wind in his hair, sun in his eyes. Then once you reach your destination, he does the thing. 

The thing where he puts his arm around the back of your seat as he reverses, his jawline sharp in the golden wash of afternoon light, the clean, strong line of his neck exposed beneath the collar of his shirt.

You don’t know why it has you holding your breath, but it does. Maybe it’s the casual way he does it, like he’s done it a hundred times. Or the fact that he’s so in control and completely unaware of how stupidly attractive what he’s doing is.

You’re gawking, and you know you’re gawking, but you’re only human. Gawking was your speciality, and you’re always putting yourself in situations to do it. 

Like when he’d be on cooking duty and you’d jump at the opportunity to be his unofficial sous-chef, just to be near him. You’re currently struggling with this godforsaken onion. Eyes watering, grip awkward, and the knife refusing to cooperate.

“I can do that for you,” John offers gently, taking the onion from your hands with that same ease he handled everything. “The blade’s dull, that’s why you’re having such a hard time…”

You nod, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you watch him grab the knife-sharpening rod. He starts working the blade against it with practised movements.

John Walker is an acts of service king; you noticed it early on. One time, you had barely even acknowledged that you were thirsty. There was no glass of water in front of you, you barely even sighed, but before you could even stand, John had quietly placed one in your hand without a word. 

Or when you fell asleep on the couch, and felt the weight of a blanket being placed on top of you, the warm, familiar scent of his cologne letting you know it was him. You didn’t even have to open your eyes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t wake you.

Just made sure you were comfortable and tucked the blanket around your shoulders. He could be loud, commanding, the centre of attention when he needed to be, but moments like that reminded you of how soft he could be when no one was looking.

You snap out of the memory, focusing back on him as he now dices the onion with mechanical precision, the knife gliding like it was an extension of his hand.

“See? Easy when your tools actually work,” he says with a half-smile, glancing your way.

You try not to swoon. Or stare. Or let him see how completely ridiculous it is that someone chopping onions could look that good. But honestly? It’s a losing battle.

A few days later, you were searching for him to get some insight on a mission you’d all be heading out on later that day.

“John?” you called out from outside his door, your knuckles tapping lightly.

“Come in!” he called back casually.

You step inside. His room was as clean and precise as you’d expect. Neatly made bed, organised, everything in its place. You glance around, not seeing him at first, but the moment you step into the bathroom, your soul threatens to leave your body. 

You’d seen him shirtless often enough that you should be used to it by now, but nope. Especially not like this. The room was steamy from the shower, and he stood there with only a towel slung low around his hips, v-line in full view, chest gleaming slightly in the light.

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror.

Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him.

He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?”

You blinked, realising you’d been staring.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Yeah, I… just came to ask about the mission.”

He turned slightly, not even trying to cover up. “Sure. Just give me a second to finish up. Unless you’re in a rush?”

You shook your head fast. “No rush. I can wait.”

So you stay there, doing your best to focus as he continues to shave.

You start going over the mission details to distract yourself, letting him know the objectives, listening to his responses, but it’s nearly impossible. 

Thankfully, the next, next mission, you sat out with Bob, spending the day chilling and playing Mario Kart with him. It was easy and a perfect distraction from the John problem, as you started dubbing it. Until the rest of the team walked back in.

They looked rough. Bruised, dirty, clearly fresh off a firefight. John was at the front, jaw tight, a few shallow cuts on his arms and a particularly nasty one near his temple that definitely needed attention, yet he still somehow looked unfairly good.

You barely had time to blink before his eyes found yours. Then he was moving, across the room, straight to where you were still curled up on the couch.

Without a word, he jerked his head toward the hallway. “We need to talk.”

You blinked, glancing at the others like someone might tell you what the hell was happening, but no one seemed surprised. With a sigh, you stood and followed him down the hall to a quiet, empty corner. Why this was his number one priority after a mission was beyond you.

“We do?” you asked, arms crossing defensively.

“You’ve been looking at me weird for a while now,” he said, tone unreadable but eyes locked on yours.

You froze. “What?”

He stepped a little closer. “You have. In the kitchen. In the gym. In my car. You stare.”

Your mouth opened but closed just as fast. How on earth would you rebut any of his claims? You doubt you had been subtle in the slightest; if someone made a compilation of you staring at John, they’d have enough footage to make a movie. 

“You’re imagining things,” you said, way too quickly.

He tilted his head, clearly not buying it. “Am I?”

You step back, but your back hits the wall, the space between the two of you impossibly small.

“You like me, don’t you?”

Hearing that you’re sure it’s over for you. You stand there waiting for the ground to swallow you whole. You look down, unable to meet his eyes, but then his fingers are under your chin, tipping your head up gently.

“It’s okay if you do,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye. “I like me too.”

You let out a breathy laugh and swat at his chest playfully. “Asshole…”

He laughs with you, but soon his expression softens, the teasing giving way to something deeper.

“I like you too,” he says quietly.

The words hit like fireworks going off in your chest. You mean that?” You ask to which John answers genuinely, “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you…” You start, heart racing, “Do you want to show me how much you like me?” you ask, voice dropping, the boldness rising in your chest before you can second-guess it.

He smirks at you, then he pulls you in, his hands cupping your face like you’re something fragile and precious. His lips meet yours gently, and you melt as you hold onto his arms. Without them, you’d be a puddle on the floor. The kiss slowly deepens, becoming more passionate, more desperate. Your fingers curl in his hair, pulling him closer like it’s instinct. He groans softly at the touch, one hand slipping from your cheek to your waist, then he slots his knee between your legs and…

“No, no, no. Not outside my room,” Yelena interrupts with a sigh, “Take that somewhere private.”

Alexei is grinning like a proud dad, arms folded, nodding approvingly. Bucky is concerned about how quickly you guys started making out against the wall.

Ava just throws up her hands in relief, muttering, “Finally,” under her breath, clearly thrilled that she no longer has to witness you making heart eyes at John during every single meal, briefing, and training session.

And Bob? Bob’s smiling, warm and supportive, genuinely happy for you both… though mildly overwhelmed, like he just walked into something he isn’t entirely sure how to exit.

You groan into your hands, face burning. Yelena’s already walking away, calling over her shoulder, “I’m ordering pizza for dinner. If you two are going to be gross again, do it behind a closed door.”

John chuckles, slipping his hand into yours. “Well… you heard the lady.”

He pulls you towards his room, and the second you get inside, you shove him onto his bed, trying to peel his suit off. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” John chuckles. 

“Shut up.”

Masterlist

[lastofthemadones]

Long Live Evil has me by the throat and I made a Key playlist

(I don't have a spotify account so it's on Youtube Music don't hate me) find it here

Take Me to Church - Hozier

Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

2. I Love You Like an Alcoholic - The Taxpayers

One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic, One last kiss, I love you like a statuette, One last kiss, I need you like I need a broken leg

3. Oceanographer's Choice - The Mountain Goats

Look at that, Would you look at that, We're throwing off sparks, What will I do when I don't have you, To hold onto in the dark?

4. Howl - Florence + The Machine

The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground, And howl, Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters

5. From Eden - Hozier

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword, Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

6. Bad Things - Jace Everett

I don't know what you've done to me, But I know this much is true, I wanna do bad things with you

7. It Will Come Back - Hozier

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me, Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me, Honey, don't feed me, I will come back, It can't be unlearned, I've known the warmth of your doorways, Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

8. Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People

All the other kids with the pumped up kicks, You better run, better run outrun my gun

9. Hurt - Johnny Cash

Everyone I know goes away, In the end, And you could have it all, My empire of dirt, I will let you down, I will make you hurt

10. We Will Commit Wolf Murder - of Montreal

Something's terrorized my psyche to get even, Lately, you're the only human I believe in

11. Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part To Save The Scene And Stop Going To Shows) - Fall Out Boy

I used to obsess over living, Now I only obsess over you

12. Fever - Magpie Cinema Club

Romeo loved Juliet, Juliet she felt the same, but when she put her arms around him, He said, "Julie baby you're to blame, Thou giveth fever"

13. Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine

See, I was dead when I woke up this morning, I'll be dead before the day is done, Before the day is done, And now all your love will be exorcised, And we will find you saying it's to be better now

14. Dust Bowl Dance - Mumford & Sons

There will come a time I will look in your eye, You will pray to the God that you always denied, Then I'll go out back, and I'll get my gun, I'll say, "You haven't met me, I am the only son"

15. Monster - Ron Pope

Make me a monster, Make me a beast, Prey on my weakness, Become my disease, I've been lovesick and empty, Cold and I'm trembling

16. Dirty Little Animals - Bones UK

It makes your blood run hot, It makes your spit taste sweet, It makes you feel more alive, Than you have ever been

[florestalio]

FATAL OBSESSION — l.hs

even if your best friend seemed to have found the love of her life, the one that keeps her the happiest, while also treating you, and everyone else with respect—you can't help but feel something was... off about him. you didn't dwell on it much—something which proved to be a fatal mistake on your part.

GENRE — pwp, kidnapping au, psychopath au, best friend's boyfriend trope

WARNINGS — DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, noncon, noncon-ish dumbcon, psychopath!hee, kidnapping, character death, oral (both m! and f! rec), throat fucking, throat bulge, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gun play, gun in v (DON'T!!!), sucking the barrel of a gun (seriously, don't), squirting, unprotected sex (don't), doggy, cumming inside, groping, tit squeezing, nipple pinching, clit pinching, bondage, let me know if i missed any!

WORDCOUNT — 11.8k

NOTE — READER'S DISCRETION ADVISED!!! went a little too insane while writing this. thank you to my bestie sena who always encourages me to write my deranged wip ideas that I get during the most random times—this one in particular came to my mind while I was... studying. no I'm not lying. this was, as always, not proofread. so if you see any mistakes? just pretend you didn't, okay?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

there was something severely off about heeseung.

your best friend, chaeyoung, had met heeseung—who is currently her boyfriend—at a bar. from what she had told you, apparently she was simply drinking there, celebrating her first ever paycheck—alone, since you were stuck at a family event. when it was time for her to pay, the bartender informed her that someone had already paid for her. surprised, she asked about this mystery person, getting directed towards a guy sitting a few seats away from her.

apparently for her, it was love at first sight.

he looked like everything she ever wanted in a guy—tall, dignified and confident posture, rich attire, a good taste in fashion—not to mention how attractive he looked while sipping his drink, a light smirk on the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with hers. he never broke eye contact—not even once, as she walked over to him—albeit quite bashfully.

from what she told you, they talked all night—about their reasons for being in the bar, their hobbies, their backgrounds, their families, and other things that you couldn't really bother to keep track of.

they exchanged numbers, texting each other every single day. eventually, he asked her out, taking her to the most exquisite restaurant in the city, treating her like royalty. according to her, he was the biggest gentleman—a complete green forest, if you will. he always took care of her interests, noticed every single detail about her, and never failed to bring a smile to her face. truly, she was the happiest version of herself while they were dating.

eventually, she introduced him to you, him being an absolute sweetheart with you as well. he made sure not to make you feel like a third wheel, including you in their conversations. it didn't feel awkward for you at all—almost as if you three were a trio of best friends who hadn't met in a while, catching up.

everything was perfect with him. until it wasn't.

you didn't understand why, but for some weird reason, you started to get a certain... vibe from him—even though his behaviour never really changed. he was still an absolute sweetheart, treating chaeyoung like his own personal goddess… yet there was something so—unsettling about him.

heeseung didn't really do anything, but you still found a chill running down your spine whenever chaeyoung mentioned his name. if you saw him in front of you? you bet either your leg or hand would shake uncontrollably, betraying your anxiety.

anxiety for exactly what reason, you didn't know.

you thought it was ridiculous. why would your best friend's more than perfect boyfriend’s mere presence have you shaking like a goddamn leaf? it made no sense at all.

until it did… sort of.

well… heeseung, despite being such an amazing boyfriend, ends up becoming an ex. how? the story behind that is… messy. extremely so.

you see, they had been dating for almost a year. everyone expects a good and memorable gift from their partner for their anniversary, right? so did chaeyoung. she was really looking forward to it too, given how much of a great boyfriend heeseung was.

and he didn't disappoint. he gave her a present, one that was definitely memorable. it wasn’t memorable just for her, either. it was memorable for you as well. was it good? not so much.

it was around eight in the morning when your alarm rang, effectively waking you up.but it was a sunday,  so you turned the alarm off, trying to go back to sleep. but you were already awake, so it didn't really work.

you picked up your phone, the date catching your eyes—it was chaeyoung and heeseung’s anniversary!

your eyes widened. how could you have forgotten such an important date? it was a date your best friend had been extremely excited about, with her always talking about it to you for quite a few days now, yet you forgot. did that make you a terrible friend? probably. eager to redeem yourself, you quickly shot her a text.

you: happy anniversary to my favourite couple!!! enjoy yourselves you both <33 give me all the details tomorrow!!

you let out a small breath, one which you didn't realise you were holding, hoping your best friend hadn't realised that you hadn't remembered her anniversary. however, you didn't get to ponder too long on that, since your phone rang with a ding. chaeyoung had texted you back!

chae: thank youuu!! also girl i need help chae: can you make it to xxx restaurant by twelve?? a friend of heeseung got broken up with, so he wanted him to accompany us for the morning to help him cheer up. chae: he also mentioned something about ‘not wishing him to be a third wheel’ so please do me this favour?? chae: pleaseee??? i promise i’ll make it up to you

you were a bit hesitant about the request. you honestly wanted to stay in today, since it was a sunday—a rest day—but you also didn't want to disappoint your best friend on her first anniversary with her boyfriend, so you agreed.

you: fineee i can do that you: but you're gonna owe me one

chae: THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH chae: you have no idea how stressed i was about this chae: honestly i didn't wanna agree to it at first chae: but you know i can't say no to him

you: girl it's okayyy i can understand you: i’ll distract the other dude so that you guys can enjoy your day, alright?? <33

chae: ugh have i ever told you how much i love you???

you: love you too now GO!!!

as soon as you keep your phone down, you instantly regret your decision. so now you have to go and attend the anniversary lunch of your best friend and her boyfriend… along with some mopey guy that recently got broken up with. great. just great.

you were in front of the restaurant that chaeyoung had sent you the address of—right on time too. you had been trying to call her for the past thirty minutes, but she wasn't picking up. you knew it took a while to get ready, and look absolutely out of the world, but seriously, it doesn't take that long.

you tried to call her for the—what, seventh time now? once again, the call went to voicemail. jesus christ, was she getting plastic surgery or something?

you heard your name being called, causing you to turn around. it was heeseung, waving at you, dressed in an absolutely dashing suit, his ever-so-polite smile adorning his face. the only odd thing was that he was alone—no sign of chaeyoung near him.

you frowned, voicing your thoughts out. “did you not come here with chae? she hasn't been picking up my calls—i have been trying since the past half an hour already.”

he looked surprised at that. “she picked up my call around… forty? minutes ago? she told me her make up wasn't setting right? something else about her foundation being almost out? i told her i was gonna wait, and we could schedule the reservation for later, but she told me it wasn't possible—made me come here on my own. but—i figured she must have called you for help, since, you know, you're the person she usually goes to during these kinds of emergencies–”

you shook your head, your forehead creasing in frustration. obviously chaeyoung thought the ‘emergency’ wasn't urgent enough to call you—now she won't pick up your calls, or arrive on time.

you looked at him again. “when is your friend supposed to arrive?”

he looked at his watch. “we told him to come at fifteen minutes past twelve, so that me and chae could have a little time alone before it's all about him, so… he should have been here ten minutes ago.”

right then a ‘ding!’ sounded on his phone, causing you to raise a brow. you gestured at him to check, which he did… his face falling almost immediately. he looked up at you, sighing heavily. “he just texted me. apparently his sister was busy, which meant she couldn't pick up his niece from school—which left him to do it.”

you rubbed your temples in frustration. for fuck’s sake, this wasn't your anniversary lunch, why the hell were you here on time? to help a friend out, who didn't even need the help anymore, and who was yet to arrive at her own anniversary lunch?

noticing your distressed state, heeseung quickly tried to make the situation better. “h-how about we go inside, yea? chae said she reserved the table under her name, so we can sit down—maybe even order something to eat till she arrives? how does that sound?”

you nodded, sighing mentally. you loved your best friend, but seriously, she needed to be more responsible. being late to your own anniversary lunch? causing your boyfriend and best friend to sit down and possibly even eat lunch until you decided the time was finally ideal enough for you to show up? real mature.

heeseung could sense your building frustration and anger, causing him to do his best to keep you calm. you waited by the front of the restaurant, as he practically sprinted towards the help desk to get the reserved table. he quickly ran back to you, ushering you towards the table. as soon as the two of you sat down, he quickly looked through the menu, asking for your favourite drink among the ones listed. once you gave him the name, he quickly called upon a waiter, ordering your drink choice. while they took their time to give you your drink, he engaged you in a friendly conversation, trying to diffuse the tension, and any possible awkwardness. safe to say, it worked, as you even cracked a laugh or two at his terrible jokes.

another half an hour went by. chaeyoung was yet to show up. the two of you decided to order lunch, the wait having made you both hungry.

while you both were digging in, heeseung made sure to keep you engaged in conversation, the atmosphere not turning awkward even once—despite the circumstances. the food was top tier too, so you had to give chaeyoung that one. credit was needed where it was due, after all.

by the time it was the turn for dessert, your anger had started fading into worry. where the fuck was chaeyoung at?

you knew your best friend well enough to know that she wouldn't miss her anniversary lunch, no matter how much her make-up sucked. so why wasn't she here yet?

heeseung, being ever the gentleman, politely kept you engaged in conversation. oh, for chaeyoung to have ended up with such an amazing guy, and to miss their first anniversary? yea, your best friend is definitely the problem here.

once dessert was finished, you excused yourself, going to the washroom. you needed to wash your hands anyways, and redo your lipstick. you also wanted to try and call chaeyoung again.

while you were washing your hands, one of the servers came in, giving you a polite smile and a small bow. she washed your hands alongside you. “ma'am, may i ask you something? it might sound a little intrusive, but i promise i mean it in a nice way.”

caught slightly off-guard, you nodded your head. “absolutely! don't worry about being intrusive, just ask whatever you want to.”

she gave you a wide smile, giggling slightly. “you and your boyfriend look so cute together! how long have you been together? if you don't mind me asking, of course–”

you quickly cut her off. “oh no no no—he isn't my boyfriend, he is my best friend’s. they have been together for a year, so this was supposed to be their anniversary lunch.”

the waitress gave you a skeptical look. realising exactly how weird your answer just sounded, you rushed to explain yourself. “w-wait wait wait—i know it sounds weird, but i promise i’m telling the truth. i sent her a ‘happy anniversary’ text this morning, to which she told me to accompany her to her anniversary lunch, since her boyfriend’s recently dumped friend was coming along, and her boyfriend didn't want him to be a third wheel…” you trailed off, noticing the look of disbelief on her face.

you didn't know why you felt the need to explain the situation to a complete stranger, but you weren't going to question your anxiety induced instincts. you took out your phone, showing her your texts with chaeyoung from the morning, while continuing to rant to her. “–but for some reason, she hasn't been picking up my calls, despite her being the one to invite me to this. she even reserved the table in the first place, but… oh well.”

at that, the server furrowed her brows. she seemed to believe you, although only to a certain extent now. “uhm… ma'am, are you sure? the table you were sat at was reserved by who we thought was your boyfriend. no girl came in to reserve that table for today. but he did so, yesterday. said he wanted to have lunch with his girlfriend in peace, without anyone interrupting, and that today was the only opportunity for doing so.”

you were stunned at the revelation. you were sure heeseung told you that the table was reserved by chaeyoung, not him. why would the server lie? hell, why would heeseung lie? this revelation, paired with your best friend not picking up her calls… something wasn't adding up.

the server waved her hand in front of you to get your attention. “uh, ma'am…?”

you quickly snapped back to reality, the unsettling feeling you usually got around heeseung creeping back. “o-oh yea, uhm—can you help me out really quick?”

sensing the undertone of panic in your voice, her face quickly became serious. “of course, whatever you need.”

you gulped. “so, uhm—i- i think my best friend’s boyfriend—the guy i was sitting with right now—lied to me, and my friend isn't picking my calls either. d-does your restaurant perhaps have a… a backdoor, or something similar to that?”

she didn’t question it anymore, nodding quickly. she gave you the directions to the backdoor, which luckily happened to be nearby, just behind the kitchen. she promised to keep your escapade a secret, and also promised to make heeseung pay the entire bill.

“–oh, and please be careful. the backdoor is connected to a network of alleys, which are filled with homeless people. they are always looking for an opportunity to steal, especially from unsuspecting women. there's also a lot of—well, men, so you need to be extra careful.” you quickly thanked her, heeding to her directions.

you got out of the washroom, finding the backdoor quickly enough. you went outside through it, the door leading into a back alley. you quickly navigated through it, wary of any potential homeless people that might think you're an easy target for them to steal from.

you kept turning corners, staying at least five meters away from any suspicious people. however, you soon felt as if you were being followed. since you were in an area infested with men that were starving—in more ways than one, you didn't pay as much attention to it—although you should have, since that was extremely stupid of you. it turned out to be a big mistake on your part, since you soon felt someone hit your head—hard—with something that was probably made of metal.

your head exploded in pain, causing you to clutch it tightly with both hands. you felt someone catch you as you fell backwards, holding onto you tightly, your vision unsteady. as you swam in and out of consciousness, you could swear you heard a laugh. it was the most unsettling sound you had ever heard. the last thing you heard before you blacked out sent a chill down your spine.

“that eager to escape me? not fucking happening princess.”

when you woke up, you couldn't open your eyes, nor could you open your mouth to scream. you tried to move your hands and legs, but they seemed to have been tied up as well. you could tell that you were tied to a chair, but you had no idea why, or how—or who did it. what would anyone gain from kidnapping you?

you let out a muffled scream through your gag, trying to catch the attention of literally anyone. to add to your anxiety, you heard another muffled scream in response. you tried to struggle against your binds—which you just realised were fucking metallic chains—but it was a futile attempt.

in the midst of your struggling, you didn't hear the footsteps nearby, or the door opening. so naturally you were surprised when the blindfold was yanked off of you. you squint your eyes, to adjust to the sudden brightness, while your captor ripped off your gag as well. you promptly let out an ear piercing scream.

your captor let out a groan, putting his hand on your mouth, effectively shutting you up. “for fuck’s sake, shut up. no one can hear you—at least no one that can save you can hear you, so shut up and spare me the trouble of going deaf. or i can leave the gag on, whichever works best for you.”

you immediately stopped trying to scream, your eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness—or excessive darkness, whatever it was. to your utter horror, your captor was lee fucking heeseung of all people. you did have a bad feeling about him, but for it to be true? that was something you weren't prepared for.

you gulped, your throat feeling slightly parched. you looked around, your eyes landing on another girl that was tied up. her blindfold and gag was still on, but she didn't seem to be straining against her binds. from the almost dried tear patches on the blindfold, and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, you assumed that she had given up trying to struggle.

as you analyzed her carefully, the pit in your stomach grew. that was chaeyoung. “w-what did you do to h-her? why—why are we here? why are you doing this? l-let us go!”

he let out a chuckle, which only caused the pit in your stomach to grow bigger. he put both of his hands on the arms of the chair you were tied to, leaning closer to you. his face had the most bone-chilling smirk ever. “‘why?’ that's a great question. cute, even. it's cuter how you think i’ll let either of you go.”

noticing your breath hitch, he leaned even closer, his voice more of a sultry whisper. “your friend… she was just a puppet. a pawn, in my game.”

your eyes were brimming with unshed tears, your voice shaky. “g-game?”

he chuckled. “why yes, a game. my game. the game to get closer to you.”

you froze, causing him to hold in a laugh at how your eyes widened comically. “m-me? closer t-to me? w-why? why would you want to—how would that even benefit you–?”

he tilted his head to the side. “why? because i like you, silly. i’m in love with you. always have been.”

your mouth hung open in disbelief. “...what?”

he caressed your cheek, his touch tender—a great contrast to how he kidnapped you, and tied you up to a chair, in some random, abandoned, basement. “we went to the same school. we were never in the same section throughout all of our school years, but i still noticed you. i always did. how could i not? you were the most beautiful among them all, a rose in between thorns. a lone firefly, shining in a field of darkness. naturally, i was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.”

he cupped your jaw with the same hand that was caressing your face just seconds ago, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “anything and everything you did, always had me thinking, wondering, hoping—that you were doing it for me. just for me. to catch my attention. you don't need anyone else anyways, i’m more than enough for you. you just… don't see it yet.”

his grip on your jaw grew slightly tighter, your wince of pain going unnoticed by him. a crazy glimmer appeared in his eyes. “that's why i needed to wait. wait for the perfect opportunity, the right moment—until it finally presented itself. in the form of your best friend, chaeyoung. she wasn't difficult to sway. her trusting nature made it even easier. she talks a lot, a bit too much sometimes—but of course, you would know—you’re her best friend after all. she made it easy to know everything about you, things i couldn't find from stalking you. suddenly, you were so, so much closer. but not close enough. you still didn't care enough, you still weren't mine.”

you were freaking out. this whole situation was insane. he was insane. you were a hundred percent sure that you had never even seen him at school! yet he claimed to have been in the same one as you? either you were as invincibly ignorant as a town-fop judging of a new play, or he was bluffing. based on the current situation, he was definitely not bluffing.

but how? how could you have missed the fact that you were getting stalked? stalked! this was so, so bizarre. you were terrified, both for your life, and chaeyoung’s. you felt guilty that she had gotten involved, when clearly this was all about you.

heeseung continued talking. “so i had to do something. something, literally anything, to finally have you all to myself. the one thing i was glad for, was the fact that you remained single, your disinterest in relationships being both a blessing and a curse. it was the reason i lured chaeyoung into this, instead of getting to you directly. although, she could have gotten away from all of this, unharmed, if you weren't so… nosey.” 

he started caressing your cheek again. “don't know why, but for some reason you started to become… uncomfortable around me. i didn't know why, since i was more than sure that i didn't do anything to make you feel that way. but you still did. so of course, i had to do something fast. i scraped together this elaborate plan, one that involved me and chaeyoung breaking up, after i found her ‘cheating’ on me on our one year anniversary, and you consoling me, but—you just had to run away. naturally, i had to bring both of you here.”

you gulped, trying to steal your nerves. “please—you said it yourself, it's me who you want, not her—so please, let her go. she did nothing, she doesn't need to be involved in this–”

he tutted, cutting you off. “ah ah ah—where’s the fun in that? she is going to remain right here, as long as i see fit.”

he took his hand off your face, stepping away from you. he walked towards chaeyoung, a few meters away from you. your heart broke, seeing the fresh tear tracks on her face, the wet patches on her blindfold being clearly visible. your own tears broke free, once he ripped her blindfold off. she squinted in the light, her eyes landing on you. a fresh batch of tears cascaded down her face.

before you could call out to her, your eyes widened, your body freezing. heeseung was pointing a gun to her head. chaeyoung realised it, muffled sobs breaking free from behind her gag—which, for some reason, he didn’t take off, unlike what he did to yours. he rolled his eyes, nudging her head with the gun. “shut up. or i won't hesitate to blow your brains out.”

she immediately tried to stop, a small muffled hiccup escaping her in the process. heeseung rolled his eyes again, walking away from her, towards you. he kept the gun pointed towards her. he stopped in front of you, clicking the safety off. he smirked down at you. “you want her to live?”

you nodded frantically, your eyes shaking from how much you were crying. he snickered at your state. he put the gun under your chin, using it to tilt your head up, towards him. “in that case, you better do whatever i tell you to. and no trying to act smart, or else…”

he pointed the gun at chaeyoung again, flipping the gun in his hand, making it point at her again. he made a small ‘bang!’ sound with his mouth, imitating the gun going off. with your body raking with silent sobs, you nodded again, eyes red from your tears.

he smirked again. “that’s a good girl. just keep being obedient like this, yea?”

he didn’t wait for you to nod your head, or say yes again, going straight to business instead. to your—and chaeyoung's—utter horror, he began using his unoccupied hand to unbutton his jeans, under which he was somehow already hard. he pulled down the zipper—your widened, teary eyes and shocked, tear-stricken face making him stifle a groan, sending more blood straight down south, towards his cock. oh, he was going to have so much fun playing with you.

you looked in horror as he shrugged off his pants, glancing over at chaeyoung’s equally horrified face, before looking up at his face. in a panicked state, you spoke. “w-what are you doing–?”

he snickered at you, the gun not once moving from the direction of your best friend. his pants had come off, his hard bulge straining against his boxers, a large spot of precum having already formed on it. “what do you think?”

your expression was one of disgust, mixed with panic. there was no way you were going to suck your best friend's cock right in front of her, while you were both tied up to chairs, your lives in great danger. “you can't make me–”

“i can’t?” he interrupted you with a scoff, his hand pulling down his boxers. he shrugged them off, his leaking cock slapping on his stomach, leaving a trail of his sticky precum behind. his tip was an angry red, demanding immediate attention. “i can’t?” he repeated, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “what makes you think you have a choice? unless you want your oh-so-beloved friend here to die?”

he made a move as to pull the trigger, as you quickly yelled out, your eyes widening in panic. “no no no wait—please, i-i’ll do it, don’t shoot her, please–”

he smirked. you were so, so easy to scare. but apparently chaeyoung was too, since he heard a scared whimper—or a muffled sob—whatever, from her direction. he rolled his eyes subtly at the sound. he stepped closer to you, holding the base of his dick. his musky smell immediately invaded your nose, causing you to subtly scrunch it. although the smell wasn’t disgusting, his act sure was. he nudged it against your unwilling lips, coating it in a layer of his precum. he decided that it was by far the prettiest gloss he had seen you wear. “well? go on and suck it. or do you need more motivation?”

by motivation, he meant putting chaeyoung to sleep forever, of course. obviously you didn’t want that, so you quickly opened your mouth, your tongue darting out to give his tip a tentative lick. the salty taste immediately invaded your taste buds, causing you to gag slightly.

the action, however, elicited a completely different reaction from heeseung. he almost fell forward with a groan, balancing himself just in time, by holding onto the top of your chair. it set a chain reaction of his cock getting pushed further in your direction. despite your unwillingness, you were fuelled with the thought of you and your best friend getting out of the hell hole—unharmed—if you obeyed him. so you tilted your head, licking a long stripe along a vein on the underside of his cock. it stretched from his base, till his tip. your tongue’s movement caused him to twitch above you, more precum dribbling out of his tip.

above you, heeseung was a mess. god-fucking-damnit, this was what he had been missing out on?! chaeyoung’s head game was nothing compared to yours, and you had barely done anything.

it was getting harder to keep the gun pointed at her, so he decided to taunt her instead. he turned to the side, towards her, to mock her—only to be met with her eyes shut tightly, tears streaming down her face. displeased by the sight, he called out to her, trying to not sound breathless. “stop acting like a fucking prude, and open your goddamn eyes. i could shoot you right now, the only reason i’m not is because of your friend right here–” he gestured down to you, seeing as she opened her eyes again, which were red and swollen from crying. “–so you better be grateful to her, and keep your eyes on her. or else… you know what kind fate is waiting for you.”

hearing him threaten her directly, made your actions falter. you glanced at chaeyoung again—the sight of her teary eyes causing a fresh batch to roll down your eyes. you mouthed a ‘i promise i’ll get us out of here—unharmed’ to which she simply shook her head. your promise was empty words, as long as you both were here—under the threat of heeseung’s insanity. she didn’t hold it against you, she knew you didn’t want this either. but as long as heeseung was here, you both weren’t safe.

not liking how you stopped, heeseung fisted your hair tightly in his unoccupied hand, pushing your face forcefully towards his cock once again. you had done the mistake of gasping at his tight grip, causing his cock to push itself inside your deliciously warm mouth.

heeseung had to once again let go of your hair, to hold onto the top of the chair, trying to steady himself. fuck, your mouth felt so much better than chaeyoung’s ever did. he let out an unbashed moan, as you slowly bobbed your head up and down his length. “fuck,” your tongue swirled around his tip, collecting his precum, the action only causing more to ooze out. your tongue pressed down on his slit, causing him to throw his head back. “just like that baby,” he gripped the top of the chair tightly, in order to avoid thrusting into your mouth. “hah—doing s’fucking great f’me–”

he got cut off by his own groan, as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him off harshly. your tongue rubbed deliciously on the underside of his cock, the combined mixture of your saliva and his precum making it easier for you to take him in and out of your mouth. you tried your best to tune out the muffled sobs from chaeyoung in the corner—you were doing this so that she wouldn't be killed, not for your selfish reasons. as long as heeseung was satisfied, you both would be safe.

heeseung thought the same, as he seemed to want to take full advantage of that fact. unable to resist temptation anymore, he thrust his hips forward, relishing in how you gagged around him. he stood still for a moment, just to bask in the warmth of your throat.

but you only had one goal. satisfy him—impress him—till he deemed your performance good enough to let you and chaeyoung leave. which is why he was soon pleasantly surprised, as you took him further in, deep throating him. he almost moaned at the sight of his bulge in your throat. chaeyoung could never do that.

he took a glance at her, his hand holding the gun starting to ache. she was looking straight at you, small sobs raking through her body, tears running down her eyes in a steady stream. with his gun still cocked straight in her direction, he used his unoccupied hand to grab your throat, pressing down on your bulge. he let out a moan as you choked, the pressure on his cock being more than perfect.

seeing you struggling to breathe, he rolled his eyes slightly. “breathe through your nose.” it was all he said, before he pulled almost completely out of your mouth. without giving you barely enough time to take a breath, he slammed back in, your nose pushing against his abdomen. his balls slapped against your chin, as you choked, trying hard to breathe through your nose. his hand gripped your hair tightly, as he started fucking your mouth—throat—roughly.

your wrists and shins were hurting from how the chains were digging into them, bruises having definitely formed on them by now. from his merciless pace and brutal thrusts, your throat palate, as well as your chin, was sure to be bruised later as well. tears were streaming down your eyes, mirroring chaeyoung's—not just from the brutality of his pace, but from the entire situation. you never thought that one day you would have to let heeseung fuck your throat, just to ensure that you and chaeyoug could live for another day.

but unexpected situations happen everyday, as heeseung’s pace turned sloppy. “fuck fuck fuck–” he changed his fast pace and short strokes to slow and deep thrusts, his cock going impossibly deep inside your throat everytime—as if he was trying to leave an imprint in it.

finally, he let out a broken moan. “o-oh fuck—mmm–” he pulled out of your mouth quickly, his hand clutching the base of his cock to avoid cumming immediately. he started jerking off at a fast pace in front of your face. “f-fuck—open your m-mouth f’me baby—n’ stick out your tongue–”

you did as he said, screwing your eyes shut. you didn't want to accidentally make eye contact with your best friend. your face and neck was already burning hot from embarrassment, you didn't need to feel guilty as well—not that any of this was your fault in the first place.

with a loud curse, and a broken moan of your name, his orgasm finally crashed over him. spurts of warm cum erupted from his angry red tip, landing all over your face. most of it landed on your tongue, but quite a bit landed on your eyelids, nose, and cheeks as well. admiring his masterpiece with a darkened look in his eyes, heeseung spoke. “don't swallow… yet.”

he swiped the excess cum off your face with his finger, to the best of his abilities. “swallow.” he ordered, leaving no room for disobedience. he watched as you gulped, your subtle look of disgust going unnoticed. “open your mouth again,” he said, watching with a dark satisfaction, as you obeyed. he pushed his cum covered finger inside your mouth. “suck it, and swallow everything.”

you did just that, although you really wished you could spit it out instead. without him asking, you opened your mouth wide open, showing how you swallowed every drop. it was only then, that you dared to speak, your voice hoarse from his ministrations. “c-can we go now? i p-promise neither of us will tell anyone.”

at your question, he laughed. full on laughed. “‘leave’?” he echoed; as if it were some foreign language. he brought his hand that was holding the gun towards your face, before using it to tilt your chin up. “why do you want to leave so soon, baby? you need a reward first, don't you think so?”

you blinked confusedly. “a reward…?”

a smirk creeped up on his face. “why yes, a reward. you have been such a good girl for me, of course you need a reward! besides, it's only logical that i return the favour, isn't it?”

your eyes widened, as the realisation settled in. “oh, i-i don't think that's necessary–”

he subtly rolled his eyes, already sinking down on his knees in front of you. “of course it is necessary! can't just leave a girl hanging, you know?”

your eyes were wide with panic, looking at chaeyoung, as if expecting her to help—her own eyes were wide open, as she gulped inaudibly. at this point, she was simply grateful that the two of you were alive.

you squirmed, as heeseung placed the gun down beside him, giving chaeyoung a break. his hands moved up and down your legs, lifting your dress up, bunching it around your hips, leaving you squirming uncomfortably. “h-heeseung please, i r-really don't think this is necessary.”

his jaw clenched at your words, as he tightened grip on your legs. he forced his voice to be sickly sweet, as he spoke. “but that's the problem, isn't it? you women always think you know everything; whatever you decide is correct, is always correct. news flash darling—not everything is sunshine and rainbows. there are loads of things out of your control, things that you should simply relax and let others do for you. so shut up, and let me do what i want to, got it? or do you want me to blow chaeyoung’s brains out, since threatening you seems to be the only way you learn to listen?”

you gulped, tears stinging your eyes, as you met his hardened gaze. how long were you both going to be trapped here? how long before he finally got bored of these games and killed you both off? how long?

heeseung produced a knife from his pocket, your panic settling in again. you only calmed down—slightly—when you saw him use it to slowly tear through your panties, careful not to hurt you. although, the knife being so close to your skin scared you shitless anyways.

he sliced through them, the cold air coming in contact with your bare core, a shiver running through you. as he smirked at you, leaning closer to lick a stripe up your cunt, you suppressed a flinch. fuck, this was really happening.

you watched as he gathered a wad of saliva with his tongue, before spitting directly on your clit. you flinched slightly, which he took great delight in. heeseung watched his spit slowly drip down your pussy, causing him to be unable to resist temptation. he pushed his face towards your core, kissing it, before diving in. his tongue pushed deep inside you, something which unintentionally caused tingles of pleasure to run through you. you gasped loudly. “oh—god—wait, d-don't–”

your broken sounds only spurred him on more, as he dragged his tongue across your inner walls, his moan reverberating through your cunt. he licked at your walls, slurping up your juices, like a starving man. you tasted so fucking good, so much better than chaeyoung. but your squirming was pissing him off, his bruisingly tight grip on your thighs not being enough to keep you still.

even after digging his blunt nails into your thighs, you didn't stop the squirming—even though he knew you were loving it. especially given the way you kept letting out broken gasps and the way you pushed your absolutely delicious cunt further onto his face. it was really starting to piss him off.

he quite reluctantly pulled off to glare at you. “why is it so hard for you to sit still, hm? it's getting really fucking annoying, you know?”

you gulped, panting slightly. “i-i just—really want you to stop…”

he raised a brow, his expression otherwise blank. “oh really? because ‘it doesn't feel good’?”

you nodded quickly—a little too quickly. “y-yea! it f-feels weird—not good in the slightest.”

his jaw clenched—again. “well,” he gritted out. “in that case, i’ll have to try something else, don't you think so?”

you blinked, before furrowing your brows. “what–?”

he proceeded to pick up the gun from beside him, relishing in the way your eyes widened in horror. “if my mouth makes you feel so—uncomfortable, we will just need something else, hm? an object perhaps?”

your breathing grew shallow, as you realised where this was going. “n-no, please–”

he sneered at you. “too fucking late for that, princess.”

he pushed the barrel of the gun inside you slowly, watching as it slid in with ease, due to his previous ministrations. he ignored your sobs and cries to stop, relishing in the way your pussy sucked it right in. “sure you don't want this princess? your pussy disagrees with your mouth, you know?”

your head faced the ceiling, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip painfully, to conceal your whimpers. your eyes were screwed shut, praying that this was just a terrifying nightmare, one you hoped you would wake up quickly from. you swore you heard a whimper near you, which was probably one of utter horror, elicited by chaeyoung, since she was witnessing everything—but you didn't have time to worry about her anymore, since your own life was in a much graver situation.

you let out a whimper as heeseung pushed the barrel of the gun even deeper inside you, the disgusting squelching sound from your slick almost making you gag. why, just why did this situation have to happen with you of all people?

heeseung on the other hand, was enjoying himself. he pulled the barrel out slightly, before pushing it right back in. the sounds that your cunt produced were music to his ears, your whimpers of horror and choked sobs only fuelling his sick delight. he knew you liked it, even if it was only to a certain extent. why else would your cunt clench down on the gun enough to make it hard for him to pull it out? 

he made sure to voice out his exact thoughts to you. “such a slutty hole you have… don’t you, pretty girl? it will get wet for anything that is hard enough to stick inside it, won’t it?” he revelled in the particularly loud squelch that your pussy made, when he pushed the barrel in deeper. “ah… point proven.”

tears were streaming down your face at a fast, never ending pace, your face and neck burning up from a mix of emotions—fear, anger, humiliation—everything. even if you gave him his—his satisfaction, would it be enough to keep him satisfied for long enough? were you really going to die here? here? under these circumstances?

heeseung used his other hand to rub your clit, tired of your resistance. he rubbed dizzying circles around your hardened bundle with nerves, with deliberate slowness, the gesture teasing, with a hint of impatience. your breath hitched, giving him the incentive to continue his actions. he pinched your clit, drawing out a shocked gasp, before rubbing it harshly.

your head was spinning. with the gun still dangerously sliding in and out of you, and the added stimulation of your clit, it was hard to focus on anything. your head tipped back, and before you could control yourself, a moan slipped past. “h-heeseu—ah–”

you immediately bit your lip, your eyes widening, surprised by yourself. did you really just…?

heeseung on the other hand, was on cloud nine. he was both elated, yet shocked at the same time. with a nasty grin, and a crazed gleam in his eyes, he fastened the pace of the gun, pinching and flicking your bundle of nerves. “fuuuuck baby—do it again, c’mon—i knew you were a nasty little slut, just needed a little bit of… encouragement, isn’t that it? c’mon pretty, again–”

your eyes screwed shut, as you refused to let any sounds escape again, despite the very loud moan bubbling up in your throat. you tried to squeeze your legs shut, as his actions started to make you feel alarmingly good. for fuck’s sake, there was a goddamn gun inside you—how on earth were you liking this?!

heeseung caught on immediately, pushing your legs further apart, sliding the gun in and out of you at a ruthless pace, forcing another moan out of you. with how fast he was rubbing your clit, it was extremely hard to not moan—in fact, it was hard for you to even breathe, given how he was drawing out choked out moans from you at an almost inhuman pace.

he leaned down, replacing the thumb on your clit with his tongue, sucking on it harshly. you almost doubled over from the intense feeling, letting out a sharp cry. he bit down on your clit, the gun drawing out disgusting noises, as it dragged across your slimy walls, coated in your arousal. he flicked your clit with his tongue, enjoying the choked sob you let out.

your stomach started to tighten, the alarming realisation of your rapidly approaching orgasm alarming you. you tried to squeeze your legs shut, drawing out a groan of… pleasure, from heeseung. he sucked on your clit harder, rolling it around with his tongue. he paid no attention to what you were babbling about. “h-heeseung—hng!—stop—i- i can’t—ah–”

he flicked your clit again, before increasing the pace of his hand, the gun pounding into you with alarmingly deep strokes. he bit your bundle of nerves again—not too harshly, but enough to finally make the band in your stomach snap.

your vision went white, your ears ringing loudly, as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. clear liquid sprayed out of your cunt, coating the lower half of heeseung’s face and his hand with your squirt. he was quick to try his best and lick up every drop, before looking up at you; his eyes dark, a predatory smirk on his face.

as you came down from your high, you locked eyes with him, immediately understanding what had just happened. red hot shame washed over you, covering you like a blanket of fire. it creeped up your neck and face, making you want to crawl into a hole and never see the light of the day again.

“well…” heeseung said, sliding the gun out of your sensitive pussy, your face scrunching from the sound of your wetness. “there is absolutely no way you can deny not liking this now—any of this. you’re enjoying this a lot more than you’re letting on darling, and this proved just that.”

you pant, trying to catch your breath. you suddenly remembered about chaeyoung—fuck. she watched all of it. well—there was nothing you could do. heeseung is… insane, that bit was for sure. this was all technically her fault. if only she didn’t approach him that night, all of this wouldn’t have happened. you wouldn’t have been the one to suffer.

were you feeling bitter? yes, extremely so. after all, why wouldn’t you? chaeyoung was a pawn in heeseung’s sick and twisted game to attain you for some weird reason, which could have all been avoided if it wasn’t for her thirsty ass that fell for a random guy that smirked at her in some bar one day. her lack of self control caused this, so yes, excuse you for feeling bitter and resenting your oh-so-beloved best friend.

suddenly, as if heeseung hadn't yet reached the height of insanity, he brought the barrel of the gun towards his mouth. he locked eyes with you, relishing in the way your eyes widened in a mixture of shock and fear, before engulfing the barrel with his lips. still maintaining eye contact with you, he sucked the barrel of the gun, licking off your juices.

your breath hitched, as you gulped. what the actual fuck was wrong with him?

you watched as he took the gun out of his mouth with a pop, setting it aside. he got up, his dick on full display, already rock hard, with precum dribbling out of it. he untied your hands, but gave you no chance to move them, before producing a pair of handcuffs from his discarded pants. he used them to bind your hands together, before untying your legs.

once you were free to move from the chair, he dragged you off it, before shoving you down on the ground, face first. you landed with an uncomfortable thud, almost falling on your face because of your dress. you managed to balance yourself on your hands, trying your best to steady yourself.

before you could do much, heeseung was grabbing you again, manhandling you, so that you now faced in chaeyoung's direction. he went over to her—ignoring her sobs—turning her chair to make her face you directly. you gulped, tears streaming down you face again as you both locked eyes. silent apologies were exchanged between you both, the fear of heeseung’s newfound crazy side terrifying you both to death.

your heart raced against your chest, as you watched heeseung pick up the gun again. he got behind you, as you heard his knees hit the ground—presumably from kneeling down. all the colour vanished from your face, your blood running cold. was he seriously going to–

you didn't have to wonder for too long, your fears getting confirmed, as he lifted up your dress unceremoniously, bunching it up on your lower back. you squeezed your eyes shut, a whimper of utter humiliation leaving you, as he squeezed your ass cheeks. he slapped them, watching them jiggle, before continuing to rub and squeeze them. it was then that you made a promise to yourself: if you made it out of there—alive—you were going to make sure he rotted in jail for the rest of his life.

you felt his hand graze against your wet and still sensitive cunt, a shiver running down your spine. he noticed it immediately, giving your pussy a slap. your eyes widened in shock, a loud gasp leaving you. his grip on your ass cheeks tightened. “you know…” he leaned down, his torso pressing against your back, his lips close to your ear. “you looked so, so cute squirting over that gun—even after pretending that you hated every second of it. think you can do it again? on my cock this time?”

your eyes widened, as you stared down at the ground in a mixture of shock and disgust. “heeseung,” you spoke, your voice shaky. “i-i think this has gone too far already–”

he pinched your clit harshly, making you cry out in pain. “shut the fuck up. i don't remember asking you whether it has gone ‘too far’ or not. was the question really that hard for your pea sized brain to comprehend?”

he grabbed the knife from the pocket of his discarded jeans, barely giving you any time to react, as he cut open your dress—leaving you bare to his eyes. he groped your tits with one hand, keeping the knife away again. he twisted your nipple, smirking when you let out a whimper of pain. “perhaps you can't answer such simple questions. must be too hard for you to understand, aren't they?”

his mocking tone made your face and neck burn with humiliation—along with the fact that chaeyoung was witnessing all of it. her boyfriend of one year forcing himself upon her best friend. you didn't know who to feel more sorry for—yourself, or for her.

with another pinch on your nipple, this time harder than before, heeseung drew your attention back to him. “maybe i should stop asking questions and just get on with it. you would like that, wouldn't you? oh, my bad, forgot sluts can't comprehend basic questions.”

without another word, he plunged two fingers right into your—to your utter horror—dripping hole, dragging them across your inner walls. you suppressed a whimper, as he began scissoring his fingers inside you, stretching out your already stretched and very sensitive cunt.

you screwed your eyes shut, your forehead touching the ground—floor, your teeth painfully biting down on your bottom lip. you hated how he dragged you both here, hated what he was doing to you, hated that he made chaeyoung watch—you despise his very existence. unfortunately, seething in your mind did nothing to improve the situation. in fact, it only continued to lower your morale.

heeeseung rubbed slow circles around your hardened bundle of nerves, trying to evoke any kind of sound from you—nothing. you were being stubborn, refusing to give in. well—fine by him. he could always catch you by surprise. which, given the current situation, was something he had been doing this whole day.

he pulled you closer by your hips, your knees scraping the ground slightly in process, a pained noise of protest eliciting from you. but that wasn’t even the actual surprise. your breath hitched, your heartbeat running wild, as you felt his tip sliding through your wetness, collecting your slick. this was really happening.

knowing it was bound to happen—dreading it—didn’t really make it easier. if you had known that chaeyoung going to the bar a year ago would have landed you in this position, you would have never let her go. this—this was worse than anything else that could have possibly happened.

you felt him start to slowly push in—a slightly difficult feat, since you were doing your best to resist—but your cunt was doing the opposite. his grip on your hips tightened. “c’mon pretty,” he pushed in another inch. “just let me in, yeah? don’t—fuck—don’t be such an uncooperative little bitch.”

he pushed all the way in with a grunt, your pained whimper accompanying it. “fuuuuckkk,” he groaned in satisfaction, enjoying the way your core pulsed around him. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

heeseung didn’t really wait for an answer—he knew he wasn’t going to get one from you anyways. he slid almost completely out, before slamming back in, letting out a loud groan of satisfaction at the wet squelching noise. noticing that you were struggling to hold yourself up, he let out a snicker, before yanking your body upwards slightly. he balanced himself on his knees, setting a slow, yet satisfactory enough pace for himself. he squeezed your tit with one hand, before yanking on your chin, making you face chaeyoung again. he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “look at her,” the small sob you let out had him thrust into you at a particularly harsh pace. “doesn’t she look lonely there? such a shame, this was all your fault after all. if only you noticed me back in school.”

he slammed himself into you, tip kissing your cervix, his pelvis hitting your ass. he reveled in the way it bounced with every thrust, his hands never stopping their wandering, groping and squeezing every bit of flesh he could reach. the look in chaeyoung’s eyes made you wonder if cooperating with him in the first place was the right decision. wasn’t dying better than this torture that he was putting you both through currently?

fisting your hair, he yanked your head back, slamming his mouth onto yours. he practically devoured your lips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. it was as if he was quite literally trying to steal your breath. biting down on your lip, he fastened his pace, each thrust forcefully eliciting loud gasps and whimpers from you, sounds that he gladly swallowed. “keep making those pretty sounds for me baby, it’s only making me want to continue to ruin you.”

a fresh batch of tears rolled down your eyes, as his hand snaked down to rub your clit. more moans of his name spilled out of your mouth—telling him to stop—but they only served to encourage him further.

detaching his mouth from yours, he put his hand on your back, pushing it into an arch, as he continued to pound into you. you could see stars at the back of your eyes, unwanted pleasure starting to cloud your senses. holy fuck—this wasn't supposed to feel good. but it did. it felt so fucking good.

you could feel every single vein of his dragging across your inner walls, cock curving into you and hitting all the right spots. it felt good—he felt good. dizzyingly good.

you didn't even realise when you let out a broken moan of his name, pure unadulterated pleasure laced in your voice. “hee—ahh—seung–”

the effect, however, was immediate. his hips slowed down, before he completely stilled inside you. when he spoke, his voice was soft, sounding like a dangerous whisper. “what was that?”

you didn't really hear his question, too focused on the way the pleasure was suddenly gone. you wiggled your hips, trying to get it back. it was as if you were drunk; completely delirious of your surroundings. he gripped your hips to still you, repeating his question. “i said, what was that?”

you barely registered his words, opting to just say his name. “h-heeseung?”

“fuck.”

with a loud groan, he pulled almost completely out, before slamming back in, his pace brutally fast now. the grip he had on your hips was sure to bruise later on. the fast pace had his balls slapping against your clit continuously, the motion only serving to pull more sounds of unadulterated pleasure from you. it was sickening, the way your body was starting to like this, the rational part of your brain completely ignoring chaeyoung’s existence.

it wasn't that any of it mattered to him. all that did matter to heeseung was you, and right now you were doing more than okay. chaeyoung was a… casualty in his quest to obtain you. a quest that obviously was—to his utter delight—very much successful.

you didn’t know how long he had been going at it, you just knew it had been long enough. the tingling in your clit was driving you insane; your release so close—yet so far.

heeseung was seemingly holding out. it was as if he was afraid of this to end, in a way. afraid that maybe all of it is just a dream—you’re not really here. none of this is actually real.

fortunately for him, everything was very much real. it was all happening. you were really in his grasp, he was really fucking you, while chaeyoung was being forced to watch. along with the fact that you were liking it. enjoying it. that was real too.

perhaps he had enough of playing around. or maybe he just remembered his previous wish—was it even a wish?—of wanting to see you squirt on his cock. but either way, he suddenly did a three sixty. or one eighty. whichever would be more accurate in describing his current mood, as he harshly pinched your clit.

you let out a sharp gasp, an incredulous “heeseung—!” leaving you. but he ignored it, opting to flick your hardened nub, rubbing torturous circles around it. he has to see you squirt on his cock, he knows you can do it—he can make you do it.

your gasps soon turn into moans, which encourage him to continue. his actions were driving you to your breaking point, that much was clear from your reactions. the way you were clenching around his cock, making it harder for him to continue to thrust into you? so fucking delicious.

perhaps he should have done this sooner. you know, this whole kidnapping thing. you could have been his a lot earlier then. but then again, patience is the key. this was the best chance he has ever gotten, it was only logical for him to pull such a stunt today. besides, good things take time to acquire. and you, are the best fucking thing to ever exist.

the band in your stomach continued to grow tighter and tighter and tighter, to a point that it physically hurt. so you did the logical thing, and told him—all the while tears slipped past uncontrollably from the pain. “h-heeseung—please, it hurts, i can’t–”

but he shut you up immediately, rubbing your clit at a harsher pace. “yes, yes you can, you’re so fucking close, c’mon–”

the pressure in your stomach was insane, so was the pressure on your clit. the pace of heeseung’s thrusts was bordering maniac, that’s how fast he was going. it was a mix of pain and pleasure, your brain fogging up, vision going foggy.

heeseung’s hand was starting to tire, but he doubled his pace, desperate to see you squirt again. “please please please–” he chanted, like a mantra. you were so fucking close, damn it–

then it happened. your vision went white, shapes visible in the back of your eyes. white noise ringing in your ears. your back arched almost uncomfortably, as you let out a loud cry. your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, your squirt spraying all over his lower abdomen, wetting his shirt. it kept spraying, coating his cock, as he plunged in and out of you at an insane pace, making you ride out your orgasm.

as your vision slowly swam back, you felt him pull your hips back one last time, burying himself to the hilt, before ropes of warm cum spurted out of his tip. it coated your inner walls in white, as he let out a satisfied groan. he slowly pulled out his softening length, reveling in the way his cum dripped out of you.

you collapsed to the floor, close to passing out. you were sore, so fucking sore. heeseung felt the tiniest bit of pity for you, but he could take care of you later. right now, he has something else to take care of.

he slowly pulled you up, making you sit in his lap, facing the front. he forced you to open your eyes, and face chaeyoung. your eyes widened slightly, regret and guilt starting to hit you. you had almost forgotten that she was still there. you could barely meet her eyes from shame, not wanting to look at her expression of hurt, or her dried tears.

but heeseung wasn’t having any of it. he made you face her, properly. your breath hitched, feeling the gun touching your chin. “look at her properly darling,” his voice was husky, and creepy. something about his tone didn’t make you feel very good about whatever was about to come out of his mouth next. turns out, you were right to be scared.

“because this will be the last time you ever do.”

before you even had time to process his words, a loud ‘bang!’ rang out through the basement, making you flinch. as you opened your eyes, disbelief and horror was etched upon your features.

surely—surely that wasn’t chaeyoung slumped over in that chair? blood dripping from her head. surely? she was—she was just alive! it can’t be—it simply couldn’t be–

but you didn’t even have time to process that, as you felt a sharp pain on your neck, before everything started to go black. you hadn’t noticed when heeseung had produced a syringe from his jeans’ pocket, just like you didn’t notice him picking up that gun. the same gun that ended chaeyoung’s life.

when you woke up, you were dressed in clothes that you didn’t recognise. but they were larger than you, so you guessed they belonged to heeseung. your left hand was tied to the bedpost with handcuffs, the rest of your body free to move—even if it wasn’t exactly freedom. the room you were in was… dingy, and quite small, with just one window and a singular cabinet on the other side of the room. there was a nightstand with an untouched glass of water on it—but you wouldn’t dare drink from it.

as you slowly sat up, you folded your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. you stared at the wall—and everything started rushing into your mind at once in a huddled mess. chaeyoung and heeseung’s anniversary lunch, chaeyoung’s absence from her own anniversary lunch, the kidnapping, chaeyoung’s death–

oh.

oh.

chaeyoung was dead.

when the tears came, it was as if a dam broke. the tears flowed and flowed, with no signs of stopping. you didn’t want to cry. what was the use of crying? would these tears bring her back? it wouldn’t. nothing would. she was gone. your best friend of almost two decades—gone. poof. just like that.

all because of some maniac, who didn’t care for anyone. a jerk, a disgusting psychopath, who doesn’t realise that human’s lives aren’t dispensable to his will.

in the middle of your wallowing, you heard the door open. you picked up your head, your vision blurry from crying. you squint your eyes, seeing heeseung enter the room with a tray, filled with a bowl of cut fruit. he placed the fruit near the end of the bed, sitting down, maintaining some distance between you both. he knew you didn’t want him near you right now, given his previous actions, but you would warm up to him soon enough. you had to. this was your new life.

he tilted his head, noticing the glass of water still untouched on the nightstand. he raised a brow at you. “you’re not thirsty?”

you glared at him, shaking your head, despite being absolutely parched. he sighed at your defiance, saying nothing. he got up, went around the bed, towards the nightstand. picking up the glass, he sat close to you, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “drink up, c’mon. don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

as he brought the glass near your mouth, you pressed your lips into a thin line, before smacking the glass out of his hands with your free one. he watched as the glass shattered into a million pieces on the floor, an unreadable expression on his face.

his silence suffocated you. you were already regretting your decision. why did you always have to act in such a brash manner?

he turned his face towards you again. as he brought his hand up, you flinched, screwing your eyes shut. you felt his hand caress your cheek, leading you to open your eyes. his face was expressionless, even when he spoke. “don’t be mad at me because of chaeyoung. it was bound to happen anyways. she was a hindrance in our story, don’t you see? she would have taken you away from me if i didn’t kill her. don’t hate me because of her.”

your hand twitches, and so does your eye. you wanted to strangle him. calling chaeyoung a hindrance?! oh, he was so dead. as soon as you escape this hell hole, you were going to make sure you personally hunted his sorry ass down and gave him a death far more slow and torturous than the one he gave to chaeyoung. he was going to pay. you were going to make sure of that.

you stayed silent, simply glaring at him. you were currently at a disadvantage, so you couldn’t really do anything, except for waiting. so that’s what you were gonna do. wait.

sensing that you weren’t going to say anything, he kisses your forehead—to which you have to stop yourself from slapping him—before getting off the bed and making his way to the door. right before going out, he turned around. “don’t forget to eat the fruit, or you will grow weaker than you already are.”

he shut the door, finally leaving. you breathed a sigh of relief. finally. you were alone again. you could continue to wallow in self pity now. you didn’t plan on eating anything, since you didn’t trust him.

you laid down, looking at the ceiling. how long were you going to be trapped here? would you ever be able to get out? right now, there didn’t seem to be any hope of escaping, but perhaps in the near future…

a wave of sleepiness washed over you. you were tired, so, so tired. maybe sleeping would be good for now. yes, you should get some rest.

when you woke up, it was dark. confused, you blearily sat up, blinking at your surroundings. why were you suddenly up?

then you heard it. the gun shots. they rang loud and clear, yellings of ‘get down!’ and ‘surrender now!’ rang through the place. a flash of hope rose in you. was it the police…?

suddenly, the door to your room banged open. two female police officers entered the room, pointing the gun around the room. upon realising that there was no one else other than you, one of them quickly broke the handcuffs as best as she could, as the other frantically checked upon you. “ma’am are you okay? did he hurt you?” she kept throwing questions at you, as you assured her that you were fine—as fine as a person could be, after the kind of hell heeseung put you through.

they wrapped a coat around you, before bringing you downstairs. it was a dingy two storey house in some shady part of the town, apparently, according to what they told you. they told you that they got a tip about a kidnapping from an anonymous source, which, from your deduction, was probably that waitress from the restaurant. although you could be wrong, of course.

downstairs, you saw heeseung with a busted lip, hands restrained with handcuffs behind his back, two police officers assisting him to the car. when his gaze landed on you, he spoke with a bone chilling smirk. “don’t worry darling. they won’t be able to keep us away from each other for too long. i’ll come back for you, i promise.”

the policemen scoffed at him, rudely pushing him forward. although his words scared you, you trusted the police to do their job. as you were guided out of the dingy house, you suddenly remember chaeyoung. you informed the police of her, causing them to share a look. they led you to the car, four of them staying back, to look for her—her body.

two months had passed since that incident. a trial was held for heeseung, which almost immediately declared him to be ‘guilty’, due to the presence of overwhelming evidence. he was charged with a lot of things, things which you both knew, and didn’t know of. either way, he got what he deserved. a lifetime in jail.

it was finally time for chaeyoung’s funeral. her family and you wanted to wait until heeseung got what he deserved, and now that he was finally behind bars, it was time to say goodbye to chaeyoung. for the last time.

as the coffin was lowered down, you said your final goodbyes. you never imagined this day would come, at least not this soon. but it was here. life was unexpected and cruel, that’s what you had learnt in the past two months. but it has to go on. you couldn’t let events—no matter how unfortunate they are—hold you back. so you wiped your tears, leaving the grounds quietly.

as you sat inside your car, your phone rang with a ‘ding!’. it was a notification. a message, from an unknown number. you frowned, clicking on it. the contents had the blood from your face draining. your hands shook, as the phone fell out of your grasp.

“black suits you. but red looks the best on you, don’t you think so?”

[marvelstoriesepic]

Powdered Sugar

Pairing: childhood best friend fuckboy!Bucky x hopeless romantic!Reader

Summary: Your friend group is having a night out at the local carnival. Bucky is his charming self and you are tired of pretending it doesn’t affect you.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: friends to something-maybe-more tension; unrequited love (the perceived kind); heartbreak; unspoken feelings; light angst; emotional withdrawal; miscommunication; mentions of Bucky being a fuckboy and flirting with other girls

Author’s Note: I know this turned out to be a little longer than planned for these drabbles and I did want to end it at around 1.6k words but I felt like the conversation just needed a little more. Anyway, this is based on this request from my sweet, sweet mutual!!

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

Everywhere around you are colors. Blinking, buzzing, glowing colors. Neon reds and golden yellows. Cotton candy blues shaping the darkening sky.

The air is dense with the smell of sugar and smoke, a little burnt, a little sweet - like fireworks melting.

A thousand voices are stitched into the dark. Booths are being crowded, laughter rings out from all around you. Something about it feels like nostalgia wrapped in noise. Summer hanging off your skin.

You walk through it all in a slow dream.

Sam is saying something funny. Steve is losing his mind over who won the water gun race with Natasha. Wanda is laughing so hard she snorts.

You are smiling, but not all the way. Only with your mouth. Your head is somewhere else. Somewhere maybe not here at all.

Wanda’s arm is looped through yours, her voice warm in your ear, but you’re not hearing a word.

Because you’re in your head again.

And in your head, there’s a boy.

There’s always a boy.

He’s got a crooked grin and impossible eyes. Hands made for trouble. And a voice that is meant to live in your name.

He’s in your head because he can’t be anywhere outside of it.

It’s safer for you if he stays in here - because when you let yourself drift, you can imagine what it would be like if things were just a little different. If he was just a little different. If he looked at you the way you look at him when he’s not paying attention. If he loved you back.

You imagine him holding your hand under the glow of cotton candy lights.

You imagine his voice soft only for you.

You imagine his heart not borrowed.

He’s been your best friend since sandbox days and scraped knees. Since secrets shared under blankets and hiding from thunder in the dark. And somewhere along the way he became the sun and you became the shadow. Orbiting. Always too close to stay safe. Always too far to be seen.

And lately, you’ve been pulling back.

Not because you want to, but because you have to. Because watching him flirt with every pretty girl who captures his attention is like slowly bleeding out from the inside. And maybe that’s dramatic. Maybe you’re just being the hopeless romantic again, building castles in clouds and crying when the rain comes.

But god, you wish you didn’t feel so much.

“Hey, where’s Barnes?” Sam asks casually, looking around.

You do too. Because you just can’t help yourself. But you shouldn’t have.

And your fantasies shatter for the thousandth time.

He’s across the way, at a booth that smells like vanilla and sugar and heartbreak. He’s leaning against the counter. Smiling that easy smile. The one he gives to girls he’ll forget tomorrow. The one he doesn’t give to you.

The girl behind the counter is giggling.

Of course, she is.

She’s pretty and pink-cheeked with her long hair fastened at the back of her head, possibly with a hair clip you can’t see. Because she’s not turning around. Not turning away from Bucky.

Bucky is saying something. It’s probably something charming, something easy. And your stomach drops as if you just stepped off the edge of the Ferris wheel.

You blink too long. Swallow too hard.

Something sharp blooms in your ribs, something that nowadays never fully heals. A bruise where no one can see it.

The group keeps chatting around you but you can’t hear them anymore. The noise of the carnival dulls. It all dulls. The lights, the heat, the movement - all of it fades to background static as you stare and think, of course.

Of course, he couldn’t even make it one night.

This was supposed to be for all of you. This was supposed to be just your night as a group - no distractions, no other girls, no stupid charm shows. Just friends, food, maybe a ride or two, laughing till your face hurt.

But Bucky Barnes cannot help himself as it looks like.

And you should have known better by now.

You look away just as he gestures for more powdered sugar - a generous heap of it on top of the funnel cake. Just the way you like it. But you don’t see that part. You don’t see anything but the girl smiling at him like she’d give him her whole world for free.

“You okay?”

It’s Wanda’s voice in your ear. It sounds knowing. And you hate it. Because she knows you are not okay. Knows you haven’t been for a while. And she knows why. Because other than Bucky, everyone can see your heartbreak so plainly.

“Yeah,” you lie tersely because what are you supposed to tell her when she already knows the answer is no?

Bucky comes walking back to your group a minute later holding the funnel cake carefully in both hands. He is grinning, all proud of himself, eyes scanning the group until they land on you.

He makes a beeline for you.

The group keeps moving.

Wanda, to give you some space perhaps, walks ahead, laughing as she tugs Sam toward the spinning teacups as though they’re not entirely designed for kids under ten. Steve is shaking his head, pretending he’s not going to join in, but you all know he will. Natasha is throwing you a subtle, knowing glance before smirking at Steve.

You don’t get far.

“Here,” Bucky says, holding the funnel cake out to you, falling in step.

But you are drifting.

Your body is here, feet touching ground, but you feel like you’re moving through molasses. Everything slow. Heavy. Your heart sticky with regret or embarrassment or whatever that fucking pain is.

You glance down at his offering. The powdered sugar is already melting into the ridges. A soft, sweet mess. It smells like childhood. Like summer. Like him, as weird as it feels.

You swallow. “I’m good.”

You feel the warmth of him. That stupid comforting heat that’s always just there. Like a fire you want to lean into but know better than to trust.

“You didn’t eat all day.”

His voice beside you comes like a tug at your sleeve.

He keeps pace beside you, his stride easy like it always is but you acknowledge that there is a difference in the way he holds himself. Less swagger. Less play. He’s not performing. Not posturing.

You glance sideways. The funnel cake is still sitting in his hands.

Still warm. Still untouched.

“I’m not hungry, Buck. You can have it.” You don’t really look at him.

He doesn’t answer for a few steps, just walks with you, his eyes on you, the crowd fading behind.

The gravel crunches beneath your shoes. A moth flutters through a streetlight above. The world keeps moving, but it feels like something in your chest doesn’t.

He holds the plate out again. Firmer.

“You always eat this first,” he says, and there is something like a forced charm in his voice. Great. He doesn’t even seem to try with you. “Every year.”

Your throat tightens. You don’t take it. You keep your eyes ahead. You don’t respond.

So he steps in front of you, blocking the path, just slightly. As if trying not to be obvious about it but it still is.

It makes you halt.

“Take it, doll,” he insists. Quiet. Not demanding. Rather pleading.

Slowly, you blink up at him. His eyes are darker in the carnival lights. Blue, but tired. There’s something behind them. Something like a question. Like he’s reaching out with more than his hands and hoping you’ll meet him halfway.

Sighing, you take it, your fingers brushing his. You pretend not to feel it. He pretends not to hold on for a second longer than needed.

Picking at the corner, you tear off a soft edge. You bring it to your mouth and chew slowly. It doesn’t taste as good as it is supposed to.

It’s too sweet. Or not sweet enough. You don’t know.

You nod, just a little. “Thanks.”

Bucky doesn’t smile. Not like usual. His face is silence and shadows. There is something unreadable there.

He starts walking again after simply staring at you for a while.

You follow.

For a few minutes, you’re just walking. Side by side. Like you always have. Like nothing’s changed. You don’t even bother looking where the others are going.

You hear him bite the inside of his cheek. You know that sound. He’s deep in his thoughts. He does that when he’s trying not to say something too fast.

“Something’s up with you lately. You’ve been actin’ a little different,” he then starts after some more thoughtful moments, voice careful, deep and raspy. “And I don’t know what’s going on, but-” he sighs deeply. “I miss you, doll. Feels like you’ve been pulling back.”

You swallow another bite of funnel cake as if it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever eaten. It sits wrong in your gut. Makes it turn. Makes it hate you. Makes you hate it.

You glance over to your best friend. His hands are in his pockets now. Shoulders tense. He’s not looking at you. But you can see the edge of something vulnerable in the line of his jaw.

“I don’t know,” you get out somehow. “I guess I just needed space.”

He nods. Slow. As if he understands. But you don’t think he does.

“If something’s going on, you can-” His tone is softened, but his voice is scratchy. Almost gravel. “You can talk to me, doll. You know that, right?”

You let the silence stretch.

You watch it reach between you and settle in your bones.

You think about all the words you could say and how none of them are enough.

You think about how much it hurts to want someone who never asked to be wanted.

You think about powdered sugar.

“It’s nothing.”

You watch a paper napkin flutter across the pavement. Someone laughs nearby, giddy and golden and loud. Somewhere, the Ferris wheel creaks.

You walk a little further. Past the game booths. Past the families and kids and the couple kissing against the light-up sign that says Tunnel of love. You pretend not to see it.

He watches you. Carefully. Trying to read a page you’ve scribbled over.

Bucky bumps his shoulder gently into yours, letting out a breath.

“I’m not good at this,” he mutters, voice rough.

“At what?”

He shrugs, looks at the sky, then back to you. “Knowing when I’ve screwed up. With you.”

Your throat closes around nothing. You don’t want it to. But it does.

“You didn’t screw up,” you reply weakly.

“Then what did I do?”

And there is that question you can’t answer without giving yourself away.

“It’s not that simple, Buck,” is all you give him.

“It doesn’t have to be simple, doll,” Bucky presses, a little more desperately. It seems like this has been gnawing at him. “But you’re clearly keepin’ something. And I've got the feeling it’s got something to do with me.”

Your heart thuds. The lump in your throat is unendurable now.

“You’ve been weird,” he goes on, staring right at you. “For weeks. We’re makin’ plans, you cancel. I’m callin’ you, you don’t pick up. Don’t even call me back anymore. And you won’t tell me anything.” His jaw flexes. “Something’s not right. I’m even kinda surprised you joined us here.”

He looks at your profile as if ready to catch the truth as it falls out of you.

You slow down. He does too.

“Just tell me if I did something,” he begs. “If I crossed a line. If I hurt you.”

The carnival is alive around you, loud and bright and unaware. But this moment feels still.

“You didn’t, okay?” you declare. “Not really.”

“But kind of?” he asks, eyebrows pulling in.

You shake your head with a vehement sigh. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it,” he utters with that stubborn and desperate edge. The part of him that refuses to let go. That never has.

“I’m not mad at you.“ Your voice is getting slighter higher. “I’m just-”

He is watching you so openly and you hate that you can’t lie to him properly.

“I’m not keeping score, okay?” you say suddenly. The words come out too fast. Too bitter. “I don’t sit around counting who you talk to or who you smile at or who you fucking flirt with.”

You clamp your mouth shut.

Too much. Too much too fast.

A hand stuffs funnel cake in to keep you from saying more. Your jaw works like it’s a distraction as if sugar and dough can silence what your heart just screamed.

But Bucky already stopped walking.

You take two steps before you realize. Turn.

He’s standing there in the half-light, shadows soft under his cheekbones, carnival glow flickering behind him like bad TV static.

He’s looking at you as though you just dropped a grenade at his feet.

Terrific.

He exhales carefully. Stares at you. Quiet. Maybe a little sad. Maybe a little something else.

But you cannot stop now.

“It’s just- it’s always like this,” you continue. “Every time. We make plans as a group, we do stuff, and then you see someone pretty and you’re just gone. Like the rest of us don’t matter.”

He looks stunned. He looks everything.

There’s a long stretch of silence.

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to ditch you, sweetheart,” he says almost under his breath. “I went to get you some-”

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut in. “Because you always end up talking to someone else. You always find some new girl to flirt with, even when it’s supposed to be just us.”

You tear off another bite and don’t eat it.

“I didn’t flirt with her,” he says, after a beat. His voice is low. Testing. “I swear to you, I wasn’t. I just wanted to get the cake right.” A hand drags through his hair. His voice turns even softer. Dejected in a way. “You looked- I don’t know. You just didn’t look okay. Hoped it might cheer you up.”

You don’t look at him.

Because you’d crumble if you did.

You lick sugar off your lip, suddenly furious with how gentle he’s being. How cautious. As if you are something he doesn’t know how to hold anymore.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks, same voice. “If something I was doing was bothering you - why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it wasn’t your fault,” you answer, and now your voice is breaking. “It’s mine. It’s-” You stop again. Take a breath that tastes like carnival smoke and sweetness and everything you wish you could forget. “I know who you are, Bucky. Okay? I’ve always known. You don’t owe me anything.”

He frowns. But somehow he still looks soft while doing it. “What the hell does that mean?”

You breathe in. Your fingers twitch. You stare at the funnel cake and wish it were enough to quiet the thunder in your chest.

“It means I’m not stupid,” you basically whisper. “I know you. I know who you are with people. I know what your smile does and how easy it is for you to make someone feel like they matter, even if it’s just for five minutes. And it’s fine. It’s fine, okay? I just need to stop watching it happen.”

You feel the moment your words sink into him. You can’t take them back into your mouth and swallow them down. Can’t clean them up or smooth them over.

His eyes are like the sky just before a storm.

“Is that what you think I do?” he asks incredulously. His voice isn’t accusing. Isn’t angry. But it’s pained. Tired. As if he’s been trying to piece something together for weeks and it’s only now starting to form into shape.

His voice is quiet but not soft. Not now. It’s too filled with something else that is vulnerable and profound.

“You think I go around giving pieces of myself away like candy?”

Powdered sugar sticks to your throat.

You open your mouth. Close it again. Because yeah. Maybe you do.

He runs a hand over his jaw. Still not angry. Just hurt. Disappointed. Sad. And trying not to be.

You pick at the corner of the plate.

“That’s not who I am with you,” he states. And there is something different in his voice. Something wobbly. “That’s never been who I am with you.”

Your heart stops. Just a little.

He looks at you. So deeply. As though you’re not just some girl in a crowd. As though you’re not a thing he’ll forget after five minutes. As though he’s trying to memorize the way you exist in this moment - all messy silence and half-held tears.

He steps closer.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he continues after a little pause. “But doll, please don’t stand here and tell me I make people feel like they matter for five minutes. Not when I’ve been showing up for you every damn day since we were kids. Not when I’ve been-”

He stops. Swallows the rest.

Your hands are shaking. The funnel cake is barely still a thing anymore, just warm sugar on torn paper, and you think you’re falling apart.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, barely breathing. “I just- I didn’t know how else to say it without saying too much.”

His eyes soften.

He steps in closer. Looks down at you. His hand brushes your forearm, making your fingers stop fidgeting with the paper plate.

“You can say too much around me, doll,” he insists. Soft again. Certain. “You always could.”

The lights glitter in your peripheral. The night is filled with other people’s joy, but yours feels more important.

You don’t bother to think about where your friends are.

He leans down, noses almost touching. His eyebrow twitches. His throat bobs.

“Just so you know,” he murmurs, almost like he’s not sure he should say it but knowing that if he does, he won’t regret it. “You’ve never been five minutes. Not even close.”

You blink fast. Look away. The ache in your chest shifts. It’s not gone but somehow it turns gentler.

You don’t say anything. Can’t.

But you think he hears it anyway.

The hope.

Your heart.

The maybe.

And then he walks beside you again. Like he always has. Like he always will. Even when you’re a little cracked, a little afraid. Even when you’re not saying everything.

But sometimes, just saying enough is already everything.

[mylovingkiss]

. ݁ ˖ ⌗ 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 . . .ᐟ ´-

♯ . 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𓆩 ᰔᩚ 𓆪

# 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇-𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏

𝜗𝜚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : hi! first post yay. i haven’t written anything in like years so hopefully this isn’t terrible.

【 𝐒𝐅𝐖. ⊹₊⋆ ✉️ ྀི 】

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ he flirts like it’s game.

early on, it’s all one-liners and teasing grins. it’s part of dante—says it’s just his charm. but the second you turn his words back on him? that same smile falters. he pretends to shrug it off. but they’ll be in his mind for hours.

⤷ gets annoyingly competitive over everything.

“you blinked first.” “i killed more demons.” “okay? but i like you more.” he’s doing anything and everything but actually focusing.

⤷ tends to do your voice when he’s upset.

“‘dante, don’t touch that, it might explode,’” he mimics, then presses it anyway. if it does explode, he admits he might let you talk him out of dumb decisions in the future.

⤷ tries to teach you how to use ebony & ivory.

but gets distracted half-way only to show off. “like this—watch—cool, right?” leading to him firing six times into the air and missing the point entirely.

⤷ also tries to look (even more) cool mid-fight just because you’re watching.

does an unnecessary backflip off a wall. makes eye contact. pulls out a vogue of different combos. slices a demon in half. was there a purpose? well, no. but he did say people like this kind of stuff.

⤷ absolutely bullshits instructions when you ask for help.

“put the glowy thing there.”

“that one?”

“no, the other glowy one.”

if something breaks, he’ll blame the puzzle.

⤷ loves making bets you can’t win.

“if i beat him first, you owe me 20.”

“and if i win?”

“doubt it. i still get 20.”

⤷ hides behind furniture to jump-scare you.

most of the time it backfires since he doesn’t plan ahead. he either ends up getting hurt or cussed out. but he swears it was worth it.

⤷ quiets down after every patch-up.

he stares at your hands like they worked miracles he’s not used to—i mean, he always shrugs off wounds. they heal up fast so why waste your time on them?

he thinks the little bandaids on his already-healed skin are useless, but that doesn’t really stop the warm feeling from creeping in his heart.

⤷ pretends not to care what music you like.

“what the hell even is this?” he says while nodding along. and the next hour, you’ll catch him humming the perfect tune under his breath.

⤷ always wants to show you something.

a shortcut. a secret door. a demon skull that looks kinda funky. “come, look at this,” he says like a kid dragging you across his dreamland.

⤷ gets distracted watching you talk.

dante misses half the story. nods along like he’s listening. if you catch it and scold him about it. he just rolls his eyes and reciprocates you to continue. “i stopped listening when you opened your mouth. but go on.”

⤷ acts unimpressed by compliments but gets weirdly clingy after.

“you’re seriously calling me handsome? tell me something i don’t know.” he says. but five minutes later, he’s glued beside you—hoping you’d let him hear another one.

⤷ gifts you… ‘things’ like it’s romantic.

“found this bone shard. it glows. thought you’d like it.” he says, holding it out like a bouquet. and smiles when you actually take it.

⤷ …sometimes he isn’t sure how to deal with certain things.

so he pretends it doesn’t affect him.

you catch him looking at the amulet daily or so. and he pockets it fast, like it burned him. he cleans his blades. lubricates his guns. and doesn’t necessarily tell you what happened with vergil that day.

but if you get lucky, you’ll hear him mention his brother every now and then. subtle things like, “man, vergil would’ve liked this.” without bringing much attention to it.

⤷ he does a lot to fill the silence.

mostly nonsense, and white noise. humming random tunes, rambling about a fight that happened weeks ago. to him it’s less about what he’s saying, and more about what he’s trying not to think.

⤷ lets you win arguments just to hear you talk—again.

you think you’ve outsmarted him. following up with more words laced with a sweet tone of victory.

he thinks it’s cute, everybody wins. hooray.

⤷ shows you how to use the jukebox.

“you gotta finesse it,” he claims, smacking the side way harder than necessary. and somehow the music starts? “see? works every time.”

⤷ swears sharing his favorite meals with you is the apogee of romance.

you say you’re not craving a strawberry sundae. he buys you one anyway. and watches you eat it like it’s the most important part of his day.

⤷ starts carrying twice the amount of things—one for him, one for you.

you never asked him for it. one day he just tossed you a spare ammo clip, bandages, and a pocketed drink. “don’t say i never give you anything.”

⤷ asks for a bite of your food then nearly eats the entire thing.

“that wasn’t just a bite,” you retort. “oh, so a guy can’t be hungry anymore.” he mumbles.

⤷ he starts saying ‘we’ more.

“we should stop by the shop.” “we could grab dinner after.” “we’ll figure it out.” you don’t even notice it until it finally clicks. “we should open the place soon, no?”

the sweetest part, is that he doesn’t realize he does that.

⤷ tries to cook you breakfast some days.

there’s a chance you wake up with him setting off the smoke alarms. but others, you arrive to the kitchen with a pretty appetizing plate—which makes you question how much hours and how many utensils had to be sacrificed for it.

⤷ names the shop’s mouse after you.

you ask why. and he simply responds with, “little fella’s loud. stubborn. kinda cute. and won’t leave me alone.” he grins. “remind you of anyone?”

⤷ draws you two on the shop’s walls with permanent marker.

it’s so unbelievably childish.

just two fugly stick figures holding hands. one’s significantly taller and more detailed just to feed his ego. but he does it because he knows it’ll shy a laugh out of you. and if you tell him to stop? dante simply hands you a marker. “i own this place. you want in or not?”

⤷ gets genuinely offended if you don’t laugh at his jokes.

“wow. tough crowd. see, if i was really loved, you would’ve laughed.“

⤷ keeps fixing things in the shop and blaming you for them being broken.

“why was the fridge making that sound?” “it was fine until you leaned on it. weird.”

⤷ doesn’t let you give out compliments just because.

kind words to someone else? he’ll just slide between you two. no biggie. “wow, i look great today too, by the way.”

⤷ sometimes, late at night, he starts to say something and stops halfway.

you know it’s just his struggles holding him back from comfort. but you like nudge his leg with yours. and in a way, it kind of encourages him to continue. to let out some of the softest words that have ever graced his lips.

⤷ never calls it ‘dating.’

just says, “you and me? we’re a thing. a moment. kind of a situation—but not together.” because he doesn’t want to curse it.

losing you? he might as well let hell break loose. even though he’s too scared to admit it. you know why he does it. and your patience means the universe to him.

⤷ he still doesn’t say ‘i love you’ at all. but when he insinuates it? it melts you.

every time you leave the shop, he walks you to the door, kisses your temple, and says some sappy a remark between, “i don’t know what i’d do without you, so try to come back.”

⤷ just know when a special day for you two comes. he’ll pretend to forget.

birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. it’s a weird guilty pleasure of his.

seeing you so sad but trying to play it off like you aren’t really bothered by him forgetting.

you’ll take him out to his favorite place, buy him deserts, and sugary drinks. slay demons together (it’s the peak of romance), but he still wouldn’t get the clue. or that’s what he wants you to believe.

just know though, that later in the day, half-way through your nap, you will be surrounded by all of your favorite things. a bag of take-out. little gifts and tokens of his gratitude. and a roaming rain of praises and kisses the minute he sees your eyes flutter wake from the slumber.

“hey, sweet thing. don’t tell me you thought i forgot—what? okay, ouch.“

“no, no. see—all of this, it’s for you. money out of my pocket by the way. don’t worry, take the rest of today off. i’ll take care of the calls—just, no. i’ll find a way to pay the bills later.”

it’s so cheesy, he probably saw it on one of those romance movies you forced him to watch. but he really tries to be a good boyfriend. you’re the first he’s ever really trusted. might as well struggle with his firsts everything with the one person that hasn’t scarred him with any judgement.

⤷ one thing about dante though, is that he would never make a promise he can’t keep.

he meant it. the day he told you no matter how much destiny would try to shake him off you. he wouldn’t leave. regardless of how messy the job, how far the trip, how long the silence. he shows up. every time. coming back to hold you in his arms like you might be the most precious thing of his life.

【 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖. ⊹₊⋆ ✉️ ྀི 】

° his touch starts loose.

dante likes to think he knows what he’s doing. he lives in the blur between pretending and becoming.

his fingers trace the inside of your thigh, caressing your skin so tenderly, all while he’s talking about something else entirely.

it’s not to tease you, or pretend this doesn’t affect him. it does.

but because he can’t control a single muscle in his body when it comes to you, he needs to keep a distraction for him to be able to be the one giving and not receiving.

° everything flusters dante the second it’s about him.

call him yours, praise him, tell him how good he makes you feel.

kiss his neck, straddle his waist, lock his fingers between yours. and he’ll twitch like you lit a fuse. it’s a bit embarrassing for him to see himself act like this. chest rising with each breath and hips stuttering with any endearment. but he’s too stubborn to tell you he liked it.

° he rushes the first time.

dante is trying to learn. he won’t admit he’s inexperienced. his pride wouldn’t take that hit.

but it’s obvious. give him one kiss and he’s already pulling on the string of your panties.

he’s careless, greedy, clumsy. yet never forces anything.

if he feels you pull away he might tease, but he would give you all the space to breathe and clear your mind. you’re important—this moment too. and he wouldn’t dare mess it up.

° tries to hold back noise.

his jaw tightens. lips parted like he’s about to pry—but it never comes. he’s stubborn like that. he won’t moan unless you pull it out of him. won’t even breathe heavy unless your hips grind up first.

but when it slips out? it’s ragged. like he’s ashamed he even felt that much.

° favorites when you’re on top.

seated pretty in his lap, panty lace pushed aside, his length haloed by a thin layer of release.

he’ll pretend he’s handing you control. says things like, “set the pace this time.”

but the way his hands cup your waist, or how he presses into your skin like he’s anchoring himself to you… it gives him away. he loves having you handle him.

° says things without meaning to.

it’s not planned. sometimes awkward. definitely not suave for a smooth-talker. it slips when his hips stutter inside.

things like—“fuck, you feel good,” or worse—“don’t stop.”

he never remembers saying it. gods—he swears you’re making things up. but he takes note of it and maybe will try to be more vocal in the future.

° foreplay!

dante is a bitch. he never just slips in. what’s the fun in that? he ruts. let’s his head wet with your slick. drags down along your nerves. pressing closer to taunt your entrance.

he’s mean when he knows he has the upper hand. and he gets cocky.

cocky until it’s warm, and sweet, and right there. then it’s just instinct.

° he thinks about it often.

he feels ashamed, so ashamed actually. seeing you do casual acts that near innocence, but not being able to clear his own mind from the sins that lure it.

a cloudy gaze after a kiss, licking whipped cream off of your lips, or crouching down to pick something up.

he gets hard just remembering it.

° might have a thing for dry humping.

not as prepping. as a thing.

he’s lazy. if he’s feeling moody though, it’s what he settles with. and it eventually just became a preference.

his hips rolling into yours while both of you are still fully veiled, cherry kisses and praises.

the way you grind back and catch his gasps between your lips, one hand fisting the sheets like he’s going to come just from the friction alone. he lives for it.

° get’s so turned on when you cover his mouth.

you don’t even get to scold him. just gently pressuring your palm over his lips when he’s getting too loud.

he kisses your hand while it’s there—just quick, ludicrous kisses. he knows you get shy, you love shutting him up, and that only makes him crave it more.

⤷ “i love you.”

he won’t say it. not out loud.

but the way he looks at you while he’s still inside. every bit of hectic lust fading away. threading his fingers through the soft curves of your body he already knows by memory.

it shows everything he refuses to voice.

he’ll brush your hair back, lean down to kiss your forehead before resting it against his own. dante has never felt this close to someone before. he tends to lose them before he can.

but there is not a corner in earth he wouldn’t exorcize from hell’s grasp just to keep you safe.

⎯ׅ⎯⎯⎯⎯۪⎯⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯⎯⎯ׅ⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯

© mylovingkiss. 2025 | feel free to request! but please don’t steal or translate any of my works! thank you ༝༚༝༚

[sunshineangel0]

𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 도망가다

pairing- stray kids hyung line x reader summary- given a situation, you and member are running away together. whats the reason and how will it go for you? word count- 1.2k warnings- criminal behavior (theft, fraud, implied violence), toxic family dynamics/emotional neglect mentioned, mentions of law enforcement, surveillance, accidental pregnancy, soft angst/comfort-heavy romance, a/n- so i feel for a little darker themes i have to say: they’re all fictional—built on what-if scenarios and deep, messy emotions. Enjoy the ride !!!!!!! ahhh maknae line

CHAN — "𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘭𝘺𝘥𝘦"

ride or die crime partners

The motel TV hums with static as you count stacks of stolen cash on the bed. Chan’s leaning against the wall, shirt half-buttoned, gun tucked in the waistband of his slacks like it belongs there. “We're legends now,” he says with a crooked smile, tossing your passport into your lap. New name. New start. You grin, blood still rushing from the getaway. “Think they'll catch us?” He laughs once, low and reckless. “They can try.”

You and Chan are smooth-talking, quick-moving, adrenaline-chasing chaos. But damn, you’re good together.

He does the planning—routes, disguises, backstories. You do the talking—charming your way past guards, sweet-talking anyone who gets suspicious.

After a job, he always takes care of you first: checking for bruises, giving you water, making sure you’re still riding the high, not the crash.

You steal a sports car once, just for fun. He lets you drive it. You’re laughing like you’re 16 again, no rules, no regrets.

In the quiet, he gets soft—telling you how he used to dream of this kind of freedom. Not the crime, but you. The “us against the world” kind of love.

One day, you watch the sunset from a rooftop in Prague. “If we go down,” you say, “we go down together.”

He grins, presses his forehead to yours. “You and me, baby. Until the end.”

with him its...

Lipstick-stained passports – new identities, new lives, but still the same reckless love

Bullet casings in a jewelry box – mementos of your past jobs, hidden like treasures

Motor oil on his hands, lip gloss on yours – partners, opposites, balanced chaos

A black duffel with multiple IDs and one photo of you two – the only constant in every version of your lives

Champagne in a convenience store cup – celebration anywhere, any time—because you survived again

MINHO — “𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦”

healing from toxic pasts

You leave a note on the table. Nothing dramatic—just “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.” Outside, Minho’s waiting in his car, engine idling. He doesn’t say a word when you slide into the passenger seat, just reaches over and puts your hand in his. The road ahead is quiet. No sirens. No calls. No one yelling for you to come back. Just the soft sound of tires on pavement, and Minho whispering, “We’re gonna be okay.”

The first few days feel surreal. No screaming. No walking on eggshells. Just you, Minho, and silence that finally feels safe.

You stay in a tiny apartment with peeling walls and creaky floors. He makes it feel like home in a week—plants in the windows, a cat named Peach, warm soup on the stove.

He doesn’t talk much about what you left behind. Neither of you do. But when you wake up crying, he’s there. Quiet. Holding your hand until it passes.

He falls asleep with his head on your lap some nights, a soft smile on his face. You trace your fingers through his hair and think, I never thought peace could look like this.

He takes photos of you when you’re not looking. Says it’s so he “won’t forget this part of life.” You pretend not to notice, but you always smile.

One night, out of nowhere, he says, “Thank you for leaving with me.”

You whisper back, “Thank you for giving me something to run to.”

with him its...

Cat fur on everything – home is where Peach sleeps

Soup simmering at 3AM – because trauma doesn't keep regular hours, and neither does care

An old Polaroid tucked in your wallet – the only photo from the day you left

A chipped mug you both fight over – mundane arguments now feel like love

Sticky notes on the fridge with hand-drawn hearts – “Bought snacks,” “Feed Peach,” “I love you.” No grand speeches—just daily proof

CHANGBIN — “𝘞𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘕𝘰 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘜𝘴”

"framed" lovers on the run

The moment the security camera photo hit the news, you knew it was over. Your phone rang once—Changbin. “Pack a bag,” he said. “Only what you need. I’ll be there in ten.” Now you’re in the backseat of a stolen car, hands shaking, his hoodie draped over your shoulders. "Do you trust me?" he asks, eyes locked on the road. You don’t even hesitate. “Yeah.” The city lights blur behind you like a life you don’t want anymore.

Every gas station is a risk. Every knock at the door makes you freeze. But Changbin always stays calm—for you.

He keeps your fake IDs in his boot and a map in the glovebox, tracing out routes like you’re in a spy movie.

When things get really bad, he’ll hold your face, eyes locked on yours, and remind you: “We didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t let them make you forget that.”

In between the chaos, he finds little ways to bring you peace—humming your favorite song, buying your favorite snack, brushing your hair behind your ear.

He tells you once, under a thunderstorm sky, “If we have to spend our lives running, I’ll still choose you every time.”

You start to believe it. Even when the world wants to paint you guilty, you know what’s real—him, and the way he loves you like it’s all he’s got.

with him its...

Cigarettes out the window – not because you smoke, but because someone else does. And that means you’re being followed

Cash in a shoebox under the passenger seat – your safety net, escape fund, lifeline

Burner phones wrapped in napkins – disposable lives, but still texting each other goodnight

A cracked mirror in a motel bathroom – distorted reflections, unclear futures

His hoodie always on you – his way of keeping you safe, even when he can’t protect you from everything

HYUNJIN — “𝘞𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘛𝘰, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘞𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘥”

accidental pregnancy + quiet escape

You stare at the test in your hand like it’s not real. One pink line, two pink lines, whatever—it doesn’t matter. Your world’s already changed. Hyunjin walks in barefoot, hair damp from the shower, and freezes when he sees your face. You don’t speak. You don’t have to. He crosses the room in two steps, takes the test from your hand, and says, “Okay. We’re leaving.” Just like that. Like love is enough.

Hyunjin doesn’t freak out. Doesn’t question. The second he sees you’re scared, he shifts into full comfort mode.

He books a train ticket to a quiet town by the sea. No paparazzi, no pressure. Just you, him, and the sound of waves.

He paints all the time now—your growing belly, your sleepy smile, your fingers wrapped around a coffee mug.

Talks to the baby like they’re already here: “Hey, little one. Your mom’s the strongest person I know.”

He’s overprotective but sweet about it—holding your hand when you walk, cooking every meal, refusing to let you lift anything heavier than a book.

You cry one night, scared of what’s next. He just holds you and says, “I don’t know how we’ll do it. But we will. Together.”

with him its...

Paint stains on your clothes – you stopped caring if you get messy; life’s already full of color now

Socks hung out to dry on a line – homemade life, gentle routines, building something quiet but real

A worn baby book at the bedside – filled with notes in Hyunjin’s handwriting, doodles in the corners

His rings left in a ceramic bowl – he takes them off now, wants nothing flashy, just you and peace

Sunlight through gauze curtains – a new kind of morning, one that doesn’t rush you

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub

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[scarletcomalies]

Natasha, your mom's friend, who accepted the task of teaching you self-defense classes. However, in just a few sessions, she was also able to tame your arrogant attitude.

Word count: 1,488

Warnings: Theft, mention of knives and guns, brat reader. 18+ content, degrading, restraint, slight bit of dub-con, Nat has a penis, daddy kink, unprotected sex, breeding.

A/N: Not sure how drabbles work, but I was bored at a birthday party, and I felt like writing a little something hehe.

It all started when a thief had taken your handpurse from you and ran away quickly.

You barely felt it being snatched from you, and as you turned around, you realized that the thief was already at a considerable distance, so you opted to simply mutter a curse under your breath and continue on your way.

The thief was going to be disappointed when he sees its contents anyway, and you weren't going to run in heels for lipstick, a crumpled five dollar bill and your student ID.

Although it wasn't a particularly shocking event, your mother, with her tendency toward overprotectiveness, was convinced that this event had irreversibly scarred you. As a result, she decided to ask her best friend, Natasha Romanoff, to teach you self-defense classes.

From the beginning, you made clear your disinterest in attending. You arrived intentionally late for every session, and at the redhead's scoldings, you would simply roll your eyes and dismiss her words with disdain. During training, you often interrupted her instructions with snide remarks, and refused to follow her directions, preferring to improvise moves that lacked technique. There was something magnetic in her determination and in the way her green eyes flashed with frustration that made you purposefully act even more insufferable than usual. You loved to see it.

During lessons, there were times when she would restrain you from behind so that you would repeat the technique she had taught you, and you could feel a bulge in her pants rubbing against your ass. It was such a yearning feeling, that you would pretend to do it all wrong, so that she would make you repeat it, and in that way, prolong the contact.

"Your mom just wants to protect you, you know?" Natasha remarked, once another not-so-successful session was over.

You were so exhausted, you preferred to sit on the floor with your legs crossed rather than even get up to help Natasha put the equipment away.

"Come on," you scoffed from your spot. "The thief barely touched me. He just took my handpurse and left."

"Fortunately," Natasha replied. "Imagine if he'd had a knife, or worse, a gun. Imagine if you had been alone, at night."

She took your silence as if you didn't really care to understand your mother's point of view, but in reality, you were reflecting. She just wanted you to know how to take care of yourself, in case something worse than that happened. And Natasha had been so nice and patient to you.

But before you could respond, she spoke up, "What am I bothering to convince you for? You probably are so selfish, that you'd let someone stab you just to worry your poor mother."

You weren't sure if her words had hurt or offended you, as perhaps you had taken your attitude to such an extreme that you had actually caused her to have a twisted perception of you. It was true that you possessed certain difficult qualities, but you were not evil. Sometimes you simply felt that your mother's overprotection was excessive, and that made you more irritable than usual.

What you said next was the result of not having slept at all the night before, for you had been studying intensely for an exam. Despite all the sleeplessness, you didn't manage to answer it as you expected, leaving many questions blank. All that you had accumulated, added to her hurtful words, led you to say the following...

"And you probably have a tiny dick," you snapped. "And maybe that's why you're bitter and miserable, because no one wants you."

Natasha was silent for a moment, too peacefully that it was scary, but her intense, darkened eyes were the only thing that allowed you to realize that she was indeed impacted by your words.

"Dare to say that again?" She challenged you, the tension in the atmosphere becoming more palpable every second.

"No one wants a woman with a small dick," you crossed your arms over your chest, arching your eyebrow in that defiant manner she was already more than sick of.

Natasha began to laugh, but it wasn't the sarcastic kind of laugh, no, it was one that was beginning to terrify you and hindering your ability to maintain your composure.

Natasha approached you with firm steps, her commanding presence filling the space between you both. She was so close that you could watch her green orbes, deep and piercing, burning with such intensity that you felt that at any moment, she was going to set the whole room on fire.

She simply pulled down her pants and boxers at the same time, at the level of her thighs, and seeing the massive size of her member, made you swallow your words.

"Is this a small dick for you?" She asked, seemingly satisfied at your shocked expression.

And as if the situation wasn't humiliating enough, Natasha used a quick and precise maneuver, where she grabbed your shoulders and, in an instant, had you face down on the floor, making you groan in discomfort. She proceeded to restrain your wrists against the small of your back, and by straddling the back of your legs, she prevented any movement from them as well.

"Come on, defend yourself like I taught you," she groaned, pressing you harder against the cold floor.

You tried to free yourself from her grip, but every move you made only brought you more pain, because Natasha, with her keen perception, detected every attempt to escape and prevented it with ease, adjusting her grip to make you feel even more trapped.

The whimpers you emanated were so delightful to her ears, making her cock grow more erect. She didn't know who was suffering the most, whether she for not filling your bratty hole right there, or you, who were being physically and verbally degraded.

"That's what I thought," she chuckled, grabbing the shaft of her cock and smacking it softly against your covered ass.

With one hand, albeit clumsily, she managed to pull down your pants and panties just like she did a few moments ago, and released your wrists so that, with her two hands, she held your waist and positioned you on all fours so firmly that you felt as if you had no control over your own body.

"Don't think I haven't noticed how you pretend to be dumber than you are, just to feel my cock against you," she remarked. Obviously, she was able to understand the workings of incredibly complex, criminal and dangerous minds, how could she not detect yours? A clueless, spoiled, college student. "You probably said that just so you could see it, hm? So desperate for Daddy's cock."

But it was very double standards on her part, calling you desperate when she always ended up in the training facility bathrooms after you left, grunting your name between longing gasps as she pleasured herself.

She ran the tip over your awaiting hole, but as she noticed how it contracted in anticipation, almost imploring to be filled, the last ounce of reason left her body, letting her full length inside you. And better than she had imagined, your warm, wet pussy welcomed her deliciously.

In unison, you let out a prolongued moan of pleasure, both of you mitigating that unspoken desire that had become so unbearable.

Her movements began slow and safe, intending to feel for as long as possible how tight you felt around her, and to hear those low moans you vocalized every time she entered and exited you, complemented by the sloshing sound your hole made in consequence.

But that same action was what provoked her breath to quicken, and along with it, her rythm. Her hips were working overtime to match her cock's desperate needs, but it was impossible when said needs increased every passing second with the way you were whimpering, now high pitched and more frequent.

"Can a small dick fill your hole this good, hm?" She groaned, tilting her head back as she felt her climax approaching.

"No! No!" You cried out, and just like her, you could feel it coming. Your head was growing fuzzy for the pleasure altering every fiber of your being, like the most powerful drug ever made. "I'm sorry, Daddy! I lied! I love your big, fat cock! Please!"

She swore to herself that she was going to be strong and proud enough to stop when you admitted it, having already achieved her goal, but your words made her cum involuntarily erupt inside of you.

That sensation of being completely filled with her seed made your orgasm follow hers a little later, yours and her release leaving her cock shiny and dripping with your mixed juices.

Natasha was aware that even the most intense masturbation would not match how wonderfully your pussy embraced her cock, and how mesmerizing was the sight of your ass bouncing whenever your bodies clashed together.

Imagination was not going to overcome reality, in this case.

So she preferred, just this once, not to be frustrated by her loss of control.

[onlymingyus]

give it to me

pairing;  jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, toxic, fluff

summary; From the outside looking in your life is perfect. It's the perfect ones who are the most fucked up and have the most to lose, or so you thought.

dark/content warnings; murder, kidnapping, talk of abuse, talk of solicitation, illusion to sexual abuse, wonwoo is not a nice guy for a large part of this fic -- hitman!wonwoo, kidnapper!wonwoo, ransom negotiations, corrupt business world, seedy gang/mob underworld, crying (pain and mental pain), depression, fucked up family dynamics, yn has parents/parent death mentioned, police, dead bodies, blood, guns, lying, eating/drinking -- i am sure there is more, this fic can be a lot. please consider the warnings before you read. 

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (m receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), olfactophilia/mysophilia (panty sniffing), grinding, petnames

w/c; 22k and some change (980~ bonus on patreon only) 

a/n; thank you to my @junkissed for proofreading this for me! i know i am on a dark fic kick. thank you all for going along on this ride with me -- perhaps you might catch some easter eggs 🤫 -- i really hope you enjoy this one.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Stop pouting.” 

You throw a contemptuous glare towards Wonwoo from the rearview mirror as he sits in the passenger's seat. He was a handsome man with strong features that made you both nervous and furious. He had been assigned to your personal security by your father in the past week after some changes and discoveries with your previous bodyguard had come to light. 

While you didn’t care who watched over you, it was important to your father, who was by his daughter’s side. You had no assumptions that it was because he loved you; no, it was more that you were the heiress of his multimillionaire dollar stock trading company and his only living child. 

“I don’t want to go.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo glances down at his phone to see a text message from your father, only to let out a sigh. He knew you didn’t want to go; you had been telling him that all day. You were a brat. You were every bit the part of Mr. Y/L/N’s daughter and he could tell that you lived a very charmed life. Rarely were you told no, and the times you were, you threw a fit. 

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t. Today isn’t about you, Y/N. It’s about your father, but you are well aware of that. We’ve talked about it enough times today. Stop pretending that you don’t like attention.” 

Rolling your eyes, you lean your head back as Wonwoo talks down to you. You hated him. He was worse than any other bodyguard that your father had put in his place. He was strict and he degraded you. Your last bodyguard was a sweet man who would let you sneak out and get laid, but Wonwoo was an asshole who triple locked your door. 

“Fuck you. You don’t know me. Stop acting like you do. God, I can’t wait for you to get fired.” 

Smirking, Wonwoo glances at you in the rear view mirror, letting his eyes move over your pretty features as the car comes to a stop outside of the venue. The flashes of cameras already make him feel anxious, but he has started to get used to it. They weren’t looking at him, they were looking at you. 

“That’s sweet, Princess. I don’t want you to like me. They want you to like them.” Wonwoo gestures his head towards the window, drawing your eyes to where people are falling over one another to try to catch a glimpse of you. “Your fans and daddy are waiting.” 

Reaching for your door, you pull on the handle, instantly feeling frustration take hold of you when it doesn’t budge. Glancing back at you, Wonwoo grins before opening his door and moving to yours. Opening it from the outside with ease, the man looks down at you with a smug expression.

You hear your name yelled by several people and lights flash in your eyes before Wonwoo steps in front of the photographers, allowing you to step out of the vehicle. At least he was good for something. Meeting his eyes, you narrow yours for a moment before putting on a pretty, fake smile, letting him know he could move and allow your picture to be taken. 

Wonwoo stays on your left, his eyes watchful as he moves them from you to the crowd and back. He was good at what he did. He could feel the weight of his gun on his side, but he knew he wouldn’t need it, not even if someone did try something. His hands were more than enough to take care of them, but his gaze was deterrent enough. There was something dangerous, almost feral, about Wonwoo’s eyes that told anyone and everyone not to fuck with him, including you. 

Hearing your name, your father sighs and looks towards the double doors. Appearances were everything for him and you looked like you were worth every single penny he had spent on you. While you left much to be desired on the business front, at least he could count on you to look stunning on the front page of a magazine along with his last name. You could make his company's stocks climb by 3% with a smile on a good day, and today was a great day or at least your father wanted it to be. 

“Mm, Y/N, darling.” 

You keep your fake smile on your face, letting your father’s lips brush the corner of your lips before he takes your arm into his. His grip is a little too tight for your comfort, but at events like this, it always is. You hated business dinners. You despised talking to the business partners and their “handsome” heirs. None of them were attractive, no matter how many times your father told you to tell them they were. 

“I want you to meet two of my oldest friends, Hyong Songmin and Hong Jinyoung.”

Clenching your jaw, you glance at your father, knowing where this is going, before he squeezes your forearm to the point of pain and your eyes move to the two older businessmen. 

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes watching you put on a face for the old men. He could tell you didn’t want to be there anymore than he did. Glancing at his watch, he sighs under his breath and purses his lips, listening to the conversations around him while keeping up the appearance of guarding you and your father. 

Reaching out to take your hand from your father, Hyong Songmin is just a bit faster than Hong Jinyoung. Your brow lifts out of curiosity at the two men and their obvious competitive nature before you laugh a bit awkwardly, feeling the older man’s lips brush against the back of your knuckles. 

“No, dear… the pleasure is mine. I wish my son Kihyun was here today, but at least I’m not the only one with a missing son.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung looks you over, almost appraising you, before he meets your father’s eyes and tilts his head like he’s considering a deal. 

“He’s not wrong. Joshua was, I quote, “just too busy with numbers” to attend today. I’m certain he would be ashamed to have missed the opportunity to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.” 

You had met Hyong Kihyun before and you had heard some rumblings about Joshua Hong, but you knew what this was really about. This was about your father, his company, and mergers. 

“What a shame... perhaps we can set up another time for my beautiful daughter to meet with either of your dashing sons in the near future. Dinner?” 

Gritting your teeth, you look in your father’s direction, meeting his eyes, only to feel his hand wrap back around your arm. 

“I’m so busy, Father. I’m sure that both of their sons are as well, no matter how large the dowry is.” 

Your father scoffs into a laugh upon hearing the two men laugh at your "joke.” Luckily for him, they had found it amusing, but he had not. Digging his fingers into your arm, your father’s eyes burn holes into your face before he looks towards Wonwoo, clearing his throat to get his attention. 

“My apologies, gentleman. My daughter has her mother’s tongue. Mr. Kim?” 

Lifting his brows, Wonwoo smirks at the name before he meets your father’s eyes, taking your arm when offered to him as your breath quickens. You watch as he leans closer to the bodyguard, whispering something into his ear, only for the man to meet your eyes and nod. 

“Now, where were we? Ah yes, planning dinners for our children. Mine needs a meal and a good night's rest today, but seeing as how your sons aren’t here…” 

You feel Wonwoo guide you towards the back of the banquet hall as your father turns his eyes away from you, distracting his guests. He was good at that, diverting attention from people and things he was ashamed of. That was the reason your mother wasn’t around anymore and no one ever asked why. That was why you were always leaving early if you spoke out of turn, like you did tonight. 

Tugging at Wonwoo’s grip, you feel his hand tighten around your wrist, but he never holds you to the degree that your father does. It never hurts, he always knows when to stop and that you will follow him anyway. 

“Leave it alone, Y/N. You didn’t want to be there anyway.” 

Learning against the wall, you sigh as Wonwoo looks out into the alleyway, waiting for the car to come into view. Glancing back at you, he lifts his brows, almost feeling sympathy for you, but what was there to feel sorry for? You weren’t the type of person that Wonwoo felt anything for. 

Pulling at your elbow, Wonwoo kicks the door to the noisy venue, leaning down to glance in the vehicle and nod at the driver. You hear him mutter a few words before you are ushered into the back, like always. You were used to this song and dance. Anytime you would embarrass your father, it didn’t matter who your bodyguard was, you were always sent back to your apartment and called later with a firm reminder of who you were and who you belonged to. 

So when the car turns in the opposite direction of your apartment, you furrow your brows and look towards the front seat, seeing the wide eyes of your driver. You didn’t know the man’s name; it had never seemed important until this moment. Today he looked scared and you weren’t sure why until he muttered something towards your bodyguard and his voice got louder, feeling the barrel of the gun against his side. 

“I don’t—okay!” 

Tears instantly threaten to well up in your eyes at the sight in front of you. Has your driver done something wrong? Was he a bad man? Has Wonwoo noticed something you hadn’t? Swallowing hard, you reach for your cellphone to do something, anything, when you hear Wonwoo’s tongue click in disapproval. 

“Give it to me. Now, Y/N. I won’t fucking ask again.” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes, you see that dangerous look making your brows furrow. Seeing his outstretched hand, you whine and shake your head, realizing the situation was the opposite of what you had quickly deduced. Your driver had done nothing wrong. Wonwoo was doing this. You barely knew Wonwoo. He had been assigned to you for less than a week. 

“Wonwoo…” 

“Now!” 

The tears spill on your cheeks when Wonwoo yells at you. You put your cellphone into his hand and sit back in your seat before glancing towards both doors. Your mind goes back to when you arrived at the venue and how Wonwoo had to open your door from the outside. 

“Pull into this parking garage. Fuckin—why are you two making me repeat myself? Just do it!” 

You close your eyes, hearing your driver’s head hit the side of his door when Wonwoo forces the man’s head hard against it. The man lets out a painful sound, along with affirming words, as you feel the car take a sudden left and any light from outside is taken by the oppressive walls of the concrete parking garage. 

The moment the car is in park, you look around for a way to get out, but the sound of Wonwoo’s gun going off pulls your attention back towards him quickly. Meeting his eyes, your hands over your ears, you watch him speak, but you just shake your head until he grits his teeth and forces your hand from your head. 

“Fucking listen to me, Y/N. Be a good girl and I won’t have to hurt you.” 

Your eyes shift to the body of your driver slumped over the steering wheel and the panic rushes back through you, causing Wonwoo to jerk your arm once again. 

“You are worth more to everyone without a bullet in you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. Do you understand me?” 

Pleading words fall from your lips just above a whisper as Wonwoo lets go of your wrist, leaning over the man in the driver’s seat. You hadn’t noticed the gloves that Wonwoo always had on until now. It took your brain being shocked into reality for things to sink in. Your door is locked from the outside. The gloves on Wonwoo’s hands. Was that his real name? Kim Wonwoo? 

Pushing the body with his knee, Wonwoo grunts and watches the body fall with a thud next to the car. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. The parking garage was in a secluded part of town and it would take at least a few hours, if not a day for someone to stumble upon it. 

Looking into the rearview mirror, Wonwoo lifts his eyebrows at you as you tremble visibly. He knew you were scared. That was something you were feeling for once, and that made sense. All the times over the past week that he has seen you be unreasonably annoyed over simple shit made this even easier. 

“Let’s go for a drive, Princess.” 

Rubbing at the mascara drying on your fingers, you feel the car come to a stop. Wonwoo sighs, his brows furrowing as he looks around at the empty parking garage and finally back at you. You hadn’t spoken since he had started driving, but he wasn’t complaining. He could hear you crying, your pathetic little whimpering as he drove, but that had been the most of it. You had been resigned to what was happening. You had been “a good girl,” and Wonwoo could give you a bit of credit for that. 

“Home sweet home, Y/N.” 

Looking up, you furrow your brows at the sight around you. This parking garage had clearly not been used in years, probably closer to a decade. The building itself is probably in similar, if not worse, condition. There was nothing about this that you wanted to call home, but as Wonwoo opened his door and moved to yours, opening it, the gun pointed in your direction, and you knew you didn’t really have much of a say. 

“Wh–why are you doing this? Did my father not pay you enough?” 

Scoffing, Wonwoo sighs, leaning back against the door as he waits impatiently for you to gather the train of your tight dress and slide towards him. 

“I thought you were supposed to be smart. Isn’t that what all those degrees on your office wall are for?” 

Your stomach twists at Wonwoo’s words as your high heels unsteadily meet the uneven concrete of the garage. Reaching out with his free hand, Wonwoo tugs you upward and keeps your body against his, letting the barrel of his gun rest against your abdomen as he walks with you. 

“This is ridiculous, Wonwoo. You’re throwing your life away, and for what? A paycheck—” 

Scoffing at your words, Wonwoo cuts you off with a look as he kicks open a heavy door to the stairwell. Obviously, the elevator wouldn’t work in a building like this. You whine at the idea of the stairs in your heels, your eyes searching Wonwoo’s as he shakes his head and digs the gun into your side. 

“You’re the one who’s ridiculous. You look ridiculous and you are acting pathetic. Walk!” Raising his voice, Wonwoo feels your body jerk in his arms before you do as he says and move forward up the stairs. “This isn’t about some stupid ass security job. This is about your daddy, and him paying for you. I was hired to take you, Princess.” 

You feel your knees buckle. Wonwoo’s fingers dig into your arm, lifting you back up as he rolls his eyes at your reaction. He figures you are playing the role of the grief stricken daughter, but in reality, you are fighting the urge between laughing and crying. Your father? Paying for you? Who was stupid enough to think that he would? 

Using his shoulder, Wonwoo pushes open the door to one of the many rooms before letting you stumble inside in front of him. You look around, your brows furrowing in confusion and you feel some disgust at the sight in front of you. You weren’t sure what you had expected. The rest of the building hadn’t given you the impression that any of the apartments would be in good condition, so seeing it firsthand shouldn’t be surprising. 

“Welcome home.” 

You give Wonwoo a look of contempt, making him laugh as he gestures towards a dusty couch with his gun. You didn’t want to sit on the couch. The first thought in your head was that the dress you were wearing cost thousands of dollars and that cleaning it would cost hundreds, but the look in Wonwoo’s eyes made you take a step in its direction. 

“He won’t pay you any money for me. If—listen, Wonwoo... if you let me go, I can pay you the money myself.” 

Sighing, Wonwoo lifts his free hand to his brows, rubbing hard as he watches you. He could see you hesitating to sit down. The way you were brushing at the couch with your fingers only to rub them together as if you were in pain. When you finally sit down, you look stiff and struggle to not let any of your skin touch the dusty material under you. 

“Doubt this is about what you can offer, sweetheart. Get comfortable, you are going to be here for a while. So stop acting like you are going to get the plague from some dust.” 

Wrinkling your nose to the smell of rot, you force your eyes open. You hope that everything that has happened has been a bad dream. Instead, you open them to find things were worse than you remembered. Whining, you push against the leather couch, searching for a way out, only to find Wonwoo leaning against the door, his eyes on you. 

“How was your nap?”

It was interesting to see you like this, out of your element. Wonwoo had grown accustomed to seeing you prim and proper. Your outfits are always in perfect condition—not a hair out of place. Now you are starting to show signs of wear. You had grime on your cheek from falling asleep on the couch, which you hated so much. At least he had been nice enough to let you sleep somewhere soft. 

Rubbing at your cheek, you turn your eyes away from Wonwoo as you shake your head. You were stiff and uncomfortable. You had only fallen asleep out of exhaustion, not because you wanted to or because you were comfortable. The last thing you wanted to do was fall asleep around him. 

“I want to go home.” 

Nodding, Wonwoo runs his fingers along his palm. He knew what you wanted. You had told him many times before finally passing out for a few hours. He had slept off and on, but he was used to living like this. He was a light sleeper and with one movement from you, Wonwoo knew he would be on his feet, ready to put you back where you belonged. 

“And you know the answer to that. So stop fucking telling me. Tell me something different.” 

Biting at your lips, you blink back your tears, glancing over at Wonwoo again. He was so cruel. You try to imagine a world before today when you actually found him attractive and enjoyed pushing his buttons. The idea of it was terrifying now. You had no idea who you had been teasing. You had enjoyed pushing your bodyguards to their limits until you met Wonwoo. 

“You are such an asshole.” 

Wonwoo smirks, his thumbnail tracing the longest line in his palm as he looks over your face, even from a distance. Even with all that grime on your face, you were still beautiful. It was a pity that you were such a bratty bitch. 

“Thanks, I try. You’ve made it easy with your stunning personality.” 

Scoffing, you rub your arms, the chill in the air causing chill bumps to spread along your skin. Wonwoo watches you shiver, his brows furrowing, before he rolls his eyes and moves to his feet with a loud sigh. You watch as he moves to a duffle bag you hadn’t noticed before. Rummaging through it, he tosses a protein bar on your lap, followed by a bottle of water. 

“Eat, we are gonna be here awhile.” 

Your stomach growls at the idea of food. It had been hours since you had eaten anything substantial. Anytime before you would attend an event, you had a habit of skipping a meal in an attempt to make your dress fit better. Now you were mentally cursing yourself for the tradition. 

“I’m fine.” 

Shrugging, Wonwoo takes out his own bottle of water, tossing the cap down on the floor before tipping the bottle back on his lips. His eyes never leave your face as he swallows the water in large gulps until, finally, the last of the water is gone. 

“Suit yourself. I’m not going to force you to eat or drink, Y/N. But trust me, starving yourself won’t make you a martyr. No one cares that much.” 

Wonwoo’s words bite at your self esteem. You look down, your stomach turning as tears run down your cheeks. You knew he was right. Your father probably hadn’t realized you were gone yet, not if the person who had wanted you kidnapped hadn’t sent him a ransom note. Even if they had, your father would keep it quiet until he couldn’t. 

The dinner had ended a few hours ago and your father had already started nursing his headache in typical fashion, a glass of brandy in his hand from the moment he stepped into his house. You had disappointed him. He wished that just once you could attend a business function with him, put a smile on your face, and keep your mouth shut. 

Luckily for him, both men he had hoped would be interested in his proposition had left him with some hope for the future. You hadn’t completely fucked up everything he had been working for. Out of the two men, your father hoped that Hong Jinyoung’s son would be the one who took the bait. While both of the companies were worth something, Hong Investments was like a beacon, and your father was swimming towards the dollar signs. 

Settling into his chair, your father furrows his brows at his phone and the lack of messages from you. You knew he was upset with you. He had sent you away with the new bodyguard, what was his name again, Kim? Sighing, the older man presses down on your name and puts his phone to his cheek, leaning back to take a sip of his alcohol and listening to the phone ring until your voicemail picks up. 

Cursing under his breath, your father tries your number again with the same result before scowling at your picture on his phone. You were ignoring him? You were a prideful brat, but you weren’t a complete idiot. You knew that he would cut off your credit cards if you made him mad enough; no, something else was going on. 

Just as he was about to press down on your name for the third time, an unknown number appeared on his phone. Furrowing his brows, your father starts to wonder if perhaps something happened to your phone—this was you calling from a new number. That didn’t make sense. Sighing into his words, he answers the phone with annoyance and confusion evident in his tone. 

“Hello?”

The man on the other side of the phone smirked at hearing how annoyed your father seemed. He had never met Mr. Y/L/N, but he had heard stories and he knew the man’s pockets were deep. 

“Mr. Y/L/N, good evening.” 

Scoffing, thinking that it’s a solicitor or even a collector of some kind, your father starts to press the end button before he hears the man speak again. 

“Missing something—or someone, I should say?” 

There were many things that your father didn’t enjoy and being pulled along and fucked with was one of them. Sitting up, he narrows his eyes, glancing down into his glass of brandy before taking a sip and letting out a breath between his teeth before answering the man. 

“Like what? Who is this?” 

A grin stretches on the other man’s face as he leans back in his chair, glancing down at the picture of you on his desk. Using the tip of a pen, he pushes the picture around aimlessly before letting out an unamused laugh at the old man’s questions. 

“Don’t play senile. I know you are wondering where Y/N is. As for my name, just call me Mr. Park.” 

There were plenty of Mr. Park’s in Seoul. Rolling his eyes, your father clenches his hand around the brandy glass before sitting it down hard on the table in front of him. 

“Fine, Mr. Park, where is my daughter?” 

Now they were getting somewhere. This is how money is made. Park Bonhwa grins at your picture once again, pulling it back towards him. You were beautiful and even in the candid picture he had of you, he could tell that you were expensive. You were worth every penny he had been offered to set up this job. 

“With a friend... where she will stay, until we can come to an agreement.” 

At those words, a smile pulls at your father’s lips. The idea of you being kidnapped is ridiculous; you had a bodyguard—handpicked by him—with you at all times. Shaking his head, he laughs, causing Park Bonhwa’s grin to slip and his jaw to tighten. 

“You think this is some kind of fuckin’ joke, old man? I’ll have him cut off her fingers one by one and put them on your door. Don’t you ever laugh at me again.” 

It was a joke and your father wasn’t intimidated. He would prefer to have you back in one piece, but how much this Mr. Park wanted for you was going to determine that. This wasn’t the first time that your father had been threatened and he wouldn’t turn over and show his belly to just anyone. 

“Apologies; please continue with your script. How much are you wanting for my daughter?” 

Furrowing his brows, Bonhwa finds himself a bit flustered and confused by your father’s tone and his choice of words. Was he not concerned about your safety or the condition you might be returned in? Shaking his head, he pushes forward with his task as he licks his lips and pushes your photo away. 

“10 billion won, and I can promise she will be returned to you safe—” 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” 

After being cut off by your father, Bonhwa grits his teeth and sits up in his chair. He hadn’t played the middle man for many kidnappings, but they had never been unsuccessful. Yours shouldn’t be either. The plan seemed flawless; you were going to die either way. 

“Excuse me?” 

Standing up, your father shakes his head and looks at the phone as if the man is standing in front of him and he could shake some sense into him. He was looking at the phone as if he could teach the man how to do business better, as if the man wasn’t telling him he wanted money for his daughter’s life. 

“She’s not worth that amount of money. Where did you pull that number from? Your ass?” 

Picking at the granola bar, you could feel Wonwoo’s eyes on you when his cellphone had gone off in his pocket. Yours had gone off a few times earlier, but he had just glanced at it and finally turned it off before putting it back in his pocket. You figured it was your father and by the look on Wonwoo’s face, he wasn’t in the mood for your phone or his. 

“What?” 

Watching him, you furrow your brows as Wonwoo lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Maybe it was his boss? Did he have one? He had said he was hired to take you, so there was someone in charge of this. If so, why did Wonwoo look so annoyed by the man? 

“Negotiations? So what the fuck—no? What? No, I fuckin—you know what?” 

The conversation didn’t seem to be going well. If it were about your father, you could only imagine how poorly it could be. You had tried to warn Wonwoo and you had tried to make this easier on yourself and him, and yet here you sat on a filthy couch in the middle of nowhere. 

Park Bonhwa’s voice was like tin foil on a grater to Wonwoo. The man was an idiot, but he had lined Wonwoo’s pockets for this job. However, this job was starting to look like more of a pain in the ass than it had to be. 

“Don’t you tell me anything, Jeon! You’re my help. I hired you. He’s gonna agree; he just needs the motivation. Take a picture of the little bitch after you rough her up.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo glances over at you, watching you glance down quickly. You were afraid of him or at least afraid of the situation. He didn’t want to rough you up; he didn’t hit women. Sure, he had taken you and threatened you, but he had never hit you. He had never hit a woman in his life. Killed them? That was left up for debate, if they deserved it. 

“Yeah, whatever…” 

Hanging up, Wonwoo drops his hand to his side as he tilts his head. You already looked like shit. Maybe he could figure out another way to do this. 

“Y/N, get up. Come over here.” 

You swallow hard and shake your head. You weren’t sure what he had been told to do and you didn’t want to make any of it easy for him. Has your father really said no? Was he going to kill you now? Make you walk to him so he could put a bullet in your head? Deviantly, you grab at the couch under you, letting the granola bar slip off your lap and into the floor as Wonwoo watches his frustration rise. 

“Get the fuck up! I am giving you the chance to do this yourself. Don’t make me fucking move you myself.” 

When you still don’t move, sitting firmly on the couch, Wonwoo lets out a frustrated groan that almost sounds like a growl from his throat. Your eyes meet his and he sees the fear mixed with anger in them when his hand wraps around your bicep so that he can lift you from the couch by force. The pain reminds you of your father’s grip on you, and you feel tears collecting on your eyes, but you will them back, not wanting to give Wonwoo the satisfaction of seeing them if this is the last thing he sees of you. 

“Walk! Goddammit, why are you so fucking stubborn? I wouldn’t have to be so damn mean to you if you’d cooperate with me. You realize that? Here! No, I said here!” 

A whimper slips from your lips as you stumble in your heels, feeling your ankle roll when Wonwoo pushes you against the wall. You feel the peeling paint against your skin and you smell the mold radiating off the drywall as you squirm in his grasp until finally Wonwoo’s anger gets the best of him. A hand slams into the wall next to your head, mere centimeters from your face, making you stop moving. 

You stare at Wonwoo’s hand, letting your eyes move to his wrist and forearm, where his muscles are tense from the amount of pressure he used. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining how bad it would have hurt if he had chosen to hit you instead of the wall. 

Wonwoo swallows hard, feeling you go pliant in his grasp. While he was used to his life, it didn’t make moments like this enjoyable. You had been a bitch to him and others around you, but it didn’t make scaring you to this point seem fun. Taking a breath, Wonwoo watches the tears run down your cheeks as he pushes away his compassion and rubs his hand against the dirty wall before grabbing your face and hearing you sob, begging him to stop. 

“Shut up and listen to me.” 

Tilting his head, Wonwoo narrows his eyes, almost eyeing your face like a canvas as he uses the dirt on his fingers as paint while he talks. 

“You’re fucked, Y/N. Daddy isn’t willing to hand over the money like they thought he would, so they want... wanted me to fuck you up.” 

Moving his hand back to the wall, Wonwoo uses your tears on his fingers to collect more of the dirt, moving his hand back to you and wrapping his hand around your throat. You tense, your hand moving to grab his forearm, nails digging into his skin, causing Wonwoo to hiss before he tightens his grasp around your throat only for a moment and loosens it. 

“I’m doing this to make it look like I beat you. I don’t beat women.” Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo watches confusion walk over your face before he clarifies. “Doesn’t mean I won’t kill you. One bullet to the back of your head and you are done, Princess.” 

He was a complicated and confusing man. You could appreciate that he wasn’t going to actually beat you like he was told to, but he was still scaring you. He was still reminding you that he could and would kill you easily. Reaching up, you start to wipe your tears but Wonwoo grabs your wrist and shakes his head before tilting it. 

“Let them run through the dirt... Makes you look more pathetic, plus... there’s something red in the dirt and your tears make it look like you are bleeding.” 

Wonwoo looks through the pictures he sent to Bonhwa. They were too convincing, but he owed that to how terrified you were while he had taken them. Glancing over to where you lay on the couch, Wonwoo sighs, seeing the dirt still covering your face. 

It had been over 16 hours since he had taken you, and you were still in that dress. It was filthy and ripped. Your shoes were now off because your ankle had started to swell after you had rolled it. Now Wonwoo couldn’t help the way his eyes scanned the floor of the dilapidated apartment, seeing rusty nails, glass, and pieces of metal that could all end up in your feet. 

He shouldn’t care. After the pictures had been sent to Bonhwa, he received another call. Your father still wasn’t sending money and it didn’t matter anyway; Bonhwa’s contract wanted a bullet in your skull. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to bankrupt your father. The man wanted to make sure every point of income, including children, was cut off from him. 

Sliding his duffle bag closer to him, Wonwoo digs through his supplies, counting up his rations and looks over what else he had the forethought to pack. He was used to disappearing for months, even years at a time, so this wasn’t a big deal for him. It was having you here and the gnawing bit of compassion biting at the back of his head that was causing him issues. 

Taking out a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes, Wonwoo sighs and narrows his eyes at you. He didn’t care about you. You were a dead woman walking, so why should it matter that the sight of you in that stupid fucking evening dress was making him feel sick? You had been beautiful in it before the dinner. He could admit that to himself. You were a beautiful woman. The dress had probably been custom made for you and right now it represented where you had pretended to come from. All the filth covering it represented what was really underneath all the glitz and glamor. 

Moving to drop the clothes next to you, Wonwoo watches you slowly wake up. You didn’t have much energy. You weren’t eating or drinking enough, so your body was choosing exhaustion instead. Pointing at the clothes, Wonwoo lifts his brows and waits for you to give them some recognition, but instead you sit up and wrap your arms around you, chill bumps spreading over your skin. 

“There’s no running water here... but at least you can change into something cleaner. We can get that shit off of your face.” 

Your brows furrow deeply at Wonwoo’s words. You wanted to fight him, but you just nodded and started to put your feet down when he reached out to stop you. 

“I’ll turn my back; you slip on the shoes first and then the clothes. There’s nowhere you can go, understand?” 

You were too tired to run. Looking down at the floor, you see why he had stopped you, the glass crunching under his feet as he moved a few steps away from you. Turning his back, Wonwoo glances over his shoulder to watch you put on his shoes before he looks back towards the wall when you start to unzip your dress under your arm. 

“Why are you doing this? He’s not gonna pay, Wonwoo. I’m tired…” 

It had only been 16 hours and you were already giving up. Wonwoo shouldn’t be annoyed that you were giving up; that should be a good thing in theory, but instead it was frustrating. Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo peeks over his shoulder to see you dropping your dress into the floor, your body covered in matching lace as you reach for his t-shirt. 

“Suck it up. What would you rather happen? I just killed you now.” 

Pulling the shirt over your head, you scoff, finding it amusing how his words don’t really scare you this time. They almost seem like a joke. Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes briefly, you watch him look away quickly, clearing his throat. You know you should be upset that he was looking at you in a vulnerable state, but instead you slip one foot out of the borrowed shoes and start pulling on the sweatpants. 

“Why not? Seems like a waste of everyone's time.” 

Taken aback by your answer, Wonwoo hears you sigh, the couch settling as you sit down behind him. Turning around to face you, he looks at you in his clothes before his eyes move to the dirt he had painted on your face and throat. You watch as Wonwoo takes a bottle of water from his bag along with a towel, pouring some on to it as he kneels in front of you. 

“Think so low of yourself all of a sudden, Princess? What happened to all that confidence you had yesterday?” 

Wonwoo lifts his hand with the towel to wipe at your skin but at first you wince in fear. Meeting his eyes, he gives you a look of reassurance before trying again and this time you lean slightly into his touch. It takes some pressure for Wonwoo to get the dirt off of your skin; his eyes follow his hand even as he pours more water on to new sections of the towel. 

“I’m just a good liar.” 

That Wonwoo could tell wasn’t a lie. He knew you were a liar. He had caught you in plenty of lies in the short time he had known you, so perhaps he wouldn’t call you a good liar, but a liar nonetheless. Wonwoo’s brows knit together in thought as he lifts his free hand up to hold your chin as he rubs as gently as possible at your neck to clean his handprint from it, feeling you swallow under his touch. 

“So you gonna be truthful with me now that you are so ready to die? Or are you ready and willing to die because you hate your life so much?” 

It was none of Wonwoo’s business to answer either of those questions, but you didn’t mind that he had asked them. The only issue was that they brought tears to your eyes. Wonwoo moves your face from side to side, his eyes searching for dirt to clear from your face, before he meets your eyes and sees more tears threatening to spill over the rims. 

“You know I hate my life. You saw it firsthand.” 

Tossing the towel to the side, Wonwoo stands and puts the lid back on the water bottle before dropping it back into his bag. You watch as he leans to swipe your destroyed dress from the floor, balling it up in his hands like trash as he thinks. 

“I did, and from the outside looking in, darlin’, your life looks cushy. But that’s all smoke and mirrors, isn’t it?” Wonwoo doesn’t watch you nod, even as you do. “Won’t lie, your daddy acts like he’s running an escort service, but you’re the only one working.” 

Wonwoo’s words cause your face to heat up. You are angry with him, with his words, and with the truth. You know he’s not wrong and you’ve heard the rumors before. If it isn’t a marriage he is trying to set up for you with a rich son or a business partner, at least he can get a date for you, and you are reminded to make them happy. Happy is such a broad term, but you knew what it meant. You hate your father for it and any of the men who wanted the dates. 

Dropping your dress in the corner of the room, deeming that the new trash pile, Wonwoo moves back over to you to kneel in front of you. He meets your eyes, then reaches out to slide the leg of your new sweatpants up so he can look at your ankle. When you wince, his fingers prodding at the swollen muscle, he nods and sighs. 

“It’s not broken; you’ll live.” 

Wonwoo runs his thumb along his palm as he watches you sleep. This has become his new pastime over the past couple of days. It hadn’t been his plan, but between disappointingly annoying phone calls from Bonhwa and watching time tick away, Wonwoo watched your spirit dwindle with it. 

In reality, he knew he shouldn’t care. In fact, it should be a good thing. You were less combative. You ran your mouth less. You complained about things less, and yet Wonwoo was starting to miss that fiery woman who made his blood boil. This fragile thing laying in a ball on the couch was a shadow of you, and he had done that. Maybe not on his own, but he was the hands, if not the head. 

Leaning his head back against the door, Wonwoo picks up his cellphone, looking at another text message from Bonhwa. Each time his phone rang today, he had let it go to voicemail. He wasn’t some errand boy. Park Bonhwa had already paid him for this job; sure, there was still something left to do, but he couldn’t keep asking him for more shit without adding zeros to the end of what he had given him. Especially the shit he was asking for. 

Park: I’m tired of your bullshit

Park: As if I’m not already dealing with enough from the bitch’s daddy 

Park: Hyong wants more pictures 

2 missed calls from Park 

Park: You son of a bitch 

Park: answer the fucking phone! 

Answering the phone Wonwoo hisses out his words, keeping his voice low so as not to wake you. 

“What the fuck do you want? I sent pictures—” 

“Shut your fucking mouth. Price came down and the motherfucker is still refusing to pay up like Hyong wants him too. Send more.” 

Wonwoo didn’t know who Hyong was; he figured it was the man who had hired Bonhwa, but truthfully, he didn’t care. The less he knew, the better. Biting at his cheek, Wonwoo rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

“I’m not touching her again. Bad enough, the fucker wants her dead anyway.” 

Slamming his fist down on his desk, Bonhwa grits his teeth and scoffs into his phone. 

“Worthless. I thought you were a professional. The best? Did I waste my fuckin’ money?” Giving Wonwoo only a moment to start to speak, Bonhwa cuts him off before he gets out the first syllable. “Do I need to send some boys to find you and the girl? Have them finish the job?”

The idea of that made Wonwoo sick to his stomach. He knew enough about Park Bonhwa and his men to know he’d rather kill you himself than let them near you. They wouldn’t just kill you. They would assault you, torture you, film it like Bonhwa wanted, and then kill you. 

“Fuck off. I'll take care of it.” 

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo tosses the phone into his bag with a louder groan than he meant to cause you to stir from your sleep. Furrowing your brows, you glance towards the man with a bit of concern in your eyes. The past day, he had changed his attitude towards you in some ways. He wasn’t nice, per se, but he wasn’t unnecessarily cruel either.

Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo sighs, lifting his hand to brush it through his hair. He needed a shower and so did you. It would do some good to move locations. It wasn’t his plan. He knew he could tie you to one of the exposed pipes and go do what he needed to do, but for some reason he found himself not wanting to do that. 

“Wanna go for some fresh air, princess?” 

Sitting up slowly, you consider Wonwoo’s question before nodding. You had heard some of his conversations with his boss, this Park man, and none of them had you convinced that this was going your way. 

Wonwoo gets to his feet, leaning to pick up his duffle bag as you slide from the couch. His eyes follow you carefully, watching how you weakly move towards him. That pang of pity hits him and Wonwoo tries to force it back down, only for it to rise up in his throat like bile. Shaking his head, Wonwoo wraps his arm around your waist, letting you lean against him as you try to keep some weight off your swollen ankle as the two of you walk back down the stairs. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

Your voice surprises Wonwoo as he opens the back door of the car for you. Meeting your gaze, he tilts his head and nods once, waiting for you to continue. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

Your question makes the bile bubble in Wonwoo’s throat once again. Looking away, Wonwoo has to clear his throat, forcing the sick feeling down before he once again meets your eyes. There is fear in your eyes, but also a deep sadness that Wonwoo has started to notice as your confident facade starts to crack. Wonwoo knew he could lie to you but what good would that do to anyone? 

“I’m supposed to. That’s the job.” 

Tears sit on the rims of your eyes as you nod while sitting down on the backseat of the car. You try to think of the right words or a reason to beg for your life, but you can’t think of a single reason. Wonwoo furrows his brows as he watches you nod and pull your legs into the car. His eyes trace the tears as they run down your cheeks before he closes the door and curses under his breath. No other mark had made him feel like this. Why did you feel different? 

Looking around the house, you wrap your arms around you, waiting for the punchline of Wonwoo’s joke. He had taken you from the most disgusting, dilapidated apartment building you had ever seen to a modest sized house just outside of the city. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was clean and had modern comforts. 

Wonwoo locks the door, shielding the keypad with his large upper body, as you hear the sound of a code being keyed into the security system. Turning back to face you as you stand in the foyer, clearly confused, he sighs, dropping his duffle bag with a dull thud before crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. 

“Let me make something clear to you, Y/N. This doesn’t change anything. I’m just tired of sleeping on the fuckin’ ground.” 

You couldn’t tell if he was lying. That was something you hadn’t mastered yet. Wonwoo was so closed off and you were too tired to pry. Swallowing hard, you look down as he keeps staring at you, his eyes almost studying you as they move along your frame, continuing his explanation. 

“You try to open a door to the outside; I’ll know and you’ll regret it. Don’t fuck with me, understand?” 

Nodding, you pick at a loose string on the sweatpants you were currently borrowing. They were ill fitting, but still warmer and better than the dress that you had been wearing. You wanted to tell Wonwoo you were grateful for the clothes and for him moving you here, but you find yourself almost afraid to tell him anything. You were afraid that if you showed any sign of comfort, he might take it away because Park told him too. 

“Good girl. Come on.” 

Grabbing your wrist, Wonwoo guides you down the hall, turning on a light that makes you squint. You had grown accustomed to the low light of the camping lamps in the apartment. The lights in the house were almost too much at first. Glancing up, you blink a few times before you realize Wonwoo has led you to a bathroom. You feel tears once again coat your eyes, but you will them back as you watch him turn on the shower and mutter to himself before sighing and looking you over. 

“Here’s the deal, alright?” Swallowing hard, Wonwoo looks like he’s in pain at the words he is trying to force out of his mouth as he leans against the bathroom counter before he meets your eyes once again. “I don’t want to hurt you. What I told you is true, but they want more pictures.” 

A small sob escapes from your lips and Wonwoo feels his stomach tighten, the bile once again churning. Perhaps once he had enjoyed putting a little fear into you, but now it was chipping away at something inside of him. 

Taking a step back from Wonwoo, you feel the wall behind you as you close your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. You had no idea what sort of pictures they could want now. The last ones had broken you and Wonwoo hadn’t done more than scare you. He had taken them in a way to mimic pain, but still, they had caused you enough pain. 

“I don’t want to, Wonwoo.” 

Running his hand over his mouth, Wonwoo nods. He wants to tell you that he doesn’t want to either, but he also doesn’t want the alternative if he doesn’t deliver them. 

“If I don’t send them to him, Park will have his goons track you and I down. They are worse than me. Their pictures won’t be fake…” 

“Yours aren’t fake! I’m—” Lifting your hands, you rub at your cheeks, smearing dirt from your hands onto your face in the process of wiping your tears. “I’m so scared. Just kill me. Please? I don’t wanna do this anymore.” 

Taking the step across the bathroom towards you, Wonwoo listens to your breath get caught in your throat. He watches your body tense up as you prepare yourself for him to scare you; instead, he takes your wrist loosely in his hand. With his other hand, he carefully rubs at your cheek, trying to clean a smear of dirt from your skin. 

“Why the fuck are you just giving up now? Because your daddy is an asshole? You already knew that.” 

Leaning your head back against the wall, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes briefly before his eyes move along your face. You were still scared, but there was something about him and about his words that made your shoulders rise. You felt less small if, even for just a moment, you wanted to explain yourself, but maybe that was why he had chosen those words. 

“Why not? I told you the moment we stepped into that apartment that he wouldn’t give up any money. He’d rather see me dead.” 

Groaning in annoyance, Wonwoo slides his hand from your face to rest his fist next to your head on the wall. You feel how close he is to you; his body caging you in. It feels oppressive for a moment until he shakes his head and meets your eyes and the look in his eyes makes the way he’s standing and how close he is feel like a shield. 

“I don’t care what he wants and neither should you. I don’t know why you are so fucking sure—” 

“Life insurance, Wonwoo.” 

Your words cut him off; Wonwoo’s brows knit together tightly. The look on his face is almost one of pain, as much as it is confusion, until the words seem to sink into reality. Nodding, Wonwoo scoffs and leans his head back, a laugh slipping from between his lips before he looks back down at you and shakes his head. 

“How much?” 

Wonwoo can see how you have relaxed in front of him. The steam filling the room is comforting and tempting, but he keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. 

“100 billion.” 

That explained everything. You were worth so much more to him dead than you were alive. Park’s associate clearly hadn’t done his homework. Wonwoo feels his blood boiling at the idea of a father putting that much worth on his child, hoping she would die before he would so he would benefit. There had been a lot of shitty things he had done in his life, but in that moment, he decided that killing you wouldn’t be one of them. 

“No.” 

Confused by Wonwoo’s response, you tilt your head and repeat it back to him as a question. To you, it was simple. It was exactly what was happening. You were explaining it perfectly, there was no reason for Wonwoo not to understand. Starting to speak again, you stop when Wonwoo shakes his head. You feel his fingers trail up your forearm as he lets out a sigh before they once again encircle your wrist. 

“He doesn’t get what he wants.” Gesturing his head towards the shower, Wonwoo takes a step back from you, gently pulling you from the wall. “Take a shower; we can talk about the pictures later. Fuck all of them.” 

Opening your mouth, you close it once again when Wonwoo mutters something under his breath before leaving you in the room alone. You were confused and surprised by his reaction. You had expected him to talk you into taking whatever pictures Park wanted. You had been mentally preparing yourself for some humiliating experience, but instead you were now alone in a warm bathroom. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you frown at the sight. You can see the dirt smeared on your skin and how disheveled your hair has gotten from a lack of care. Giving one last glance at the door, almost certain Wonwoo will come back in, you let out a slow, calming breath before stripping yourself of your borrowed clothes and making your way to the much welcomed shower. 

Leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, Wonwoo listens to the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. He can imagine it running along your body, though he tries to push that thought from his mind quickly, afraid of where it might lead. Instead, he reminds himself how good a shower must feel after a couple days of being with him and how he has treated you. Sighing to himself, Wonwoo imagines the water pooling at your feet after it washes away the dirt, hoping it will wash away some of your stress, just like he hopes it will wash away his own. 

Taking his cellphone from his jeans, Wonwoo scowls at a text from Bonhwa before replying and shoving it back into his pocket. He had no respect for the man. Not that he had before learned from you, but now he had no reason to keep any loyalty towards him. 

Park: Chop chop, Jeon. I want my pictures. 

Wonwoo: When I’m ready.

Picking up his duffle bag, Wonwoo climbs the flight of stairs to the second floor, turning on the light for the bedroom. He had many safe houses. They were in various locations around Korea and other countries. None were in his real name and each one was kept stocked by people he could trust. This one was no different. 

Opening the dresser, Wonwoo furrows his brows at the clothing choice. There was plenty for him, but he was limited in his choices for you. It wasn’t his every day that he kept a mark with him and clothed them. Tossing a few things onto the bed, Wonwoo turns his attention to the closet, tilting his head at a few items near the back. Things he had forgotten had been left behind by those he would never name. He found himself pleased with his own hoarding tendencies as he pulled a simple summer dress and sweater from the closet, hoping they would fit you. 

With a towel wrapped around your body, you look through the drawers in the bathroom for things you might be able to use. A face wash and moisturizer catch your eye and you find yourself wondering if they belong to Wonwoo or if he had friends, perhaps a girlfriend you weren’t aware of. Shaking your head, you quickly use the products and relish in the feeling of brushing your teeth before you hear the sound of Wonwoo’s voice on the other side of the door. 

“Y/N? I—are you decent? Well, decent enough for me to come in?” 

You think back to Wonwoo peeking over his shoulder at you changing at the apartment as you glance towards the door. Your cheeks start to heat up as you hold your towel tighter and pull the door open, letting Wonwoo inside if he wants. 

Wonwoo takes a deep breath as his eyes move over your legs and up to your face. You watch as he seems to forget what he is doing for a brief moment before lifting his hands to show you the clothes he has collected for you. Furrowing your brows, you can’t help but smile even slightly at the sight of the dress over Wonwoo’s arm. It’s a simple soft green knee mid-thigh length dress that you know you would have never worn before all of this, but now the dress looks like comfort and kindness. 

“I don’t know if they will fit you, but they are all I could find. I could get you some of my things if you’d prefer—” 

“These are great, Wonwoo, if that’s okay?” 

Reaching out for the dress and sweater, you accidentally brush your hand over Wonwoo’s before pulling your hand back on instinct. You find yourself nervous, perhaps even a bit afraid of what his response might be. Looking down, your brows furrowed, you hear Wonwoo say your name softly, drawing your attention back up to him. 

“It’s okay. Get dressed and we can…” You watch Wonwoo scoff into a laugh at how ridiculous he feels at his own words as he says them. “Talk about your situation.” 

Not really understanding what Wonwoo means, you just nod and take the clothes from him, stepping back so he can shut the bathroom door once again. Your fingers carefully brush over the fabric in your hands and you feel goosebumps spread over your skin at how soft the sweater feels. Had Wonwoo noticed how cold you had been at the apartment? Was this a kind gesture to keep you warmer here? Should you not think about it like that? 

Glancing up at the ceiling as you hear water running, you tilt your head, realizing that Wonwoo was probably using another bathroom to take his own shower. He was trusting you not to run. Granted, he had given you a warning not to run. He had set an alarm and told you what would happen, but there was still a level of trust in taking a shower knowing you were done. 

With the sweater over your new dress, you look at the front door. There were three deadbolts, a chain, and a keypad that you had heard Wonwoo type something into earlier. It would take you a few minutes to get them all undone and the alarm would go off, but then you could run. You were exhausted, you were hungry, and now you were confused. 

Running your fingers over the soft sleeves of your sweater, you look behind you up the stairs, where you can still hear running water. Was this a test? Your mind goes back to what Wonwoo said before he left you alone but more so about what he said before your shower. 

“He doesn’t get what he wants.” 

Moving away from the door, you look around the living room. Your eyes fall to the soft couch, a sigh slipping from your lips as you sit down on it, feeling the cloth against the back of your legs. It was so much nicer than the dirty leather of the one in the apartment. You weren’t sure how this house worked if Wonwoo lived here often, but it was clean and almost felt like home. 

Running his fingers through his wet hair, Wonwoo looks around the bedroom, listening for any signs of you. He hadn’t gotten any alerts that the doors had been opened, but if you had, he wouldn’t have really blamed you. Sure, he had warned you not to do it, but that had been before everything he had learned about your father and now if you walked out that door, he might just let you go. The only thing stopping him was the fear that Bonhwa’s men would find you before he did. 

Jogging down the steps, Wonwoo tugs his shirt down his torso, only to meet your eyes as he rounds the doorway into the living room. You were lying on the couch and it reminded him so much of the apartment. The main difference here is that you looked comfortable and somehow even more beautiful. You almost took his breath away in the new dress, the sweater’s sleeves held at your palms by your fingers. 

“Hey…” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes, you sit up quickly. That fear that he might be upset at your comfort suddenly hits you until he sighs. Gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, Wonwoo closes his eyes in thought before finally speaking. 

“I’ll make something warm to eat. I can’t promise it’ll be good or not expired. But it’ll be food. Then we can talk.” 

Smiling to yourself, you lift your hand to your lips to hide your smile as you watch Wonwoo move across the hall into the kitchen. There had been a shift in him over the past couple of days but more so today. This Wonwoo was still intense; he frightened you at times, but he was also warm and comforting in a strange way. 

Turning to lay on your stomach, you rest your chin on your arm, watching Wonwoo open cabinets. From where you are, you can hear him muttering something to himself and see him occasionally reach up to scratch at his brow before he finally seems to figure out what to do next. 

After a few minutes of struggling, he finally manages to find a pot for water and some ramen. Looking over his shoulder back into the living room, Wonwoo has to hide his smirk, finding you watching him from the couch. The way you are lying is cute—your ankles crossed, knees bent so your feet can be up in the air. It reminds him of girls in dramas watching television or writing in their diaries, not that he’s watched a drama or movie in years. 

With ramen on the table in front of you, still in the pot, Wonwoo offers you a set of chopsticks as he sits near you on the floor. Shifting to sit next to him, you lean over the table to look down at the food with appreciation before giving the same look to Wonwoo. 

“Thank you… I–I honestly didn’t expect you to give me anything.” 

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo nods, gesturing for you to take the first bite. He watches you savor some of the noodles as his brows furrow, feeling his phone vibrate in his sweatpants pocket. He knew he should check it, but that would require caring what Park Bonhwa had to say, and right now he didn’t. Right now, the only thing that he cared about was getting something in your stomach and having a conversation that didn’t end with you being terrified of him. 

“That’s fair. I haven’t—look, this isn’t the most ideal situation we are in.” 

Scoffing, you stop yourself immediately, lowering your head apologetically at your gut reaction. You couldn’t help but find the irony in Wonwoo’s words. You knew it wasn’t an ideal situation but if it wasn’t ideal for him, he should try being you. You were the one who was going to be dead soon. 

“You’re allowed to react, princess.” 

That name. At first, it had made you angry, but you figured that was probably Wonwoo's desired reaction to it. Now the name makes your cheeks burn with something else. It made you feel shy and while it still made you feel smaller than Wonwoo, you didn’t hate that feeling. His larger than life stature over you, standing between you and Park somehow seemed like a good thing right now. 

“Just don’t wanna piss you off. I’m good at that, if you remember...” 

Smirking, Wonwoo tilts his head before leaning to eat some of the noodles and licking the broth from his lips. He did remember, but the you that had seemed dead set on frustrating him to no end a few days ago now seemed like she was miles away. You were someone different and he wanted to find the woman who was in the middle. 

“Trust me, I do.” 

Watching you, Wonwoo can’t help the way he has to take a breath as you blow at the ramen with a small smile on your face at his words. If this were any other situation, one might mistake it for a date, but he knew the reason you were here just as much as you did. 

“Do you even want to go home?” 

The question makes you stop what you are doing mid bite. Furrowing your brows, you glance over at Wonwoo, finding his eyes on you. Your stomach tightens at how intense his gaze is, the weight behind it and his question. It was a loaded question with many different possible answers, but only one that you could think of. 

“No.” 

Looking down at his hands, Wonwoo nods, letting that reality sink in. He had a few options laid out in front of him of how this week could end. He could follow through with what he had been paid to do. He could kill you, put your body on your father’s doorstep, and call it a job well done. He could let you go, never thinking of you again, but Wonwoo finds himself struggling to picture himself doing that and you surviving. Then there was the third option... 

“I have a friend—mmm, no, let’s call him an acquaintance; we aren’t friends. This acquaintance has been in touch about you.” 

The words all make sense but yet you shake your head, not understanding what any of them mean. You didn’t know Wonwoo’s acquaintances or his friends and you weren’t sure what they would want with you, unless... 

“He wants to kill me?” 

Meeting your eyes almost in shock by your assumption, Wonwoo shakes his head and sighs. The sigh is loud and exasperated because clearly he’s not going quickly enough and explaining well enough. 

“No, Jesus, Y/N… No, he’s—he’s a detective. I could either hand you over to him or—or I could have him help me let you disappear.” 

Looking around the room, you repeat some of what Wonwoo had said back to yourself as if trying to understand it before meeting his eyes. He had changed his mind. He wasn’t going to kill you. You hadn’t been wrong in the shift you had seen in him; you just didn’t understand why. 

“Why? I mean… not that I’m not grateful and that I don’t want it—”

“Which one?” 

Cutting you off with his question, Wonwoo slides his arm along the couch cushion behind your back as you look at him, lost for words. He expected a quick decision and you weren’t sure you were capable. Shaking your head, you lay down your chopsticks and lean back against the couch, a bit surprised to feel Wonwoo’s hand against your arm. Looking down at his fingers, you furrow your brows, watching them flex once before he braves the water and rests them against your bicep. 

“I need to know because there isn’t a lot of time for this to work. I’m not trying to scare you by saying that, but honestly, you should still be scared. I’m not saying anything about me; I’m not going to hurt you… but Bonhwa…” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes once again, you have a new, intrigued look on your face at learning a name. You hadn’t heard the name Bonhwa before; was that Park’s first name? 

“He would? Park Bonhwa?” 

Realizing what he had said, Wonwoo looks down with a sigh. Nodding, he lifts his free hand to rub at his brows before looking up at you once again. 

“Yes, he’s a piece of shit, Y/N. Some bigger piece of shit hired him to do this. Somebody who doesn’t like your father.” 

Now you are starting to learn things and understand them. You didn’t know anyone named Park Bonhwa, but your father had plenty of enemies and plenty of people pretending to be friends who would want his downfall. 

“So if I disappear, how does that work?” 

Pursing his lips, Wonwoo shifts closer to you and makes an unsure sound. 

“I’ll have to work it out with Cheo—with my acquaintance. If it’s what you want, I’ll figure it out.” 

Looking over Wonwoo’s face, you find yourself nodding, convinced by his words but still something hangs in the air. There was something that made you pause and look at him with uncertainty. 

“Why are you doing this for me? You hate me.” 

Looking at his hand as he picks at the sweater resting over your arm, Wonwoo sighs at your question. It was a fair one. He hadn’t given you any other reason to think otherwise. He had pretty much told you more than once that he didn’t like you, that he hated you, but you had returned the favor. Looking at you now, Wonwoo was almost too shy to look back up at your eyes.

"Uh—yeah, well, shit changes, doesn’t it? When you aren’t trying to actively hate someone for the job and they aren’t being a bitch for fun?”

Letting out a scoff, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, almost defiantly realizing how close he is. You can see his brows knit together as his eyes waver from your eyes to your lips and back. Neither of you are idiots or immune to the tension blanketing the two of you as your eyes follow a similar path on his face. 

“It wasn’t for fun... all the time. Most of the time it was—” 

“A shield?”

Nodding, you find your brows pulling together this time at Wonwoo’s words, as he seems to know you better than to anticipate. He had been paying attention to you and listening to what you had been saying over the past few days. Inhaling softly, you feel Wonwoo’s fingers press against your arm as he mutters a curse under his breath, leaning his head in closer to yours. You can almost see the internal battle written on Wonwoo’s face as he struggles with the desire to act on his wants and instincts compared to what he knows he should do. 

“Are you still afraid of me?” 

Shaking your head, you pause to lick your lips and Wonwoo smiles, knowing you aren’t telling him the full truth. Maybe you weren’t as afraid of him as you once were, but there is still fear left. Giving into desire, Wonwoo leans in the last few inches, letting his lips barely brush against yours as he speaks, letting you decide to meet his kiss or pull away. 

“Promised I wouldn’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else either.”

A small whine escapes from your lips at Wonwoo’s confession and the feeling of his breath on your lips. You have a split second to consider your options before you give in to your desires and meet his kiss gently. You have little to no reason to trust Wonwoo and yet now everything in your being is telling you that you can, as his lips mesh with yours. 

Flexing your fingers, you dig them into the mattress under you, enjoying the feeling of it under you. There was something freeing about this fucked up situation you found yourself in. There were still some who expected something out of you, but you had the most unexpected shield. 

Opening your eyes, you look at Wonwoo’s face as he sleeps beside you. After the simple kiss, he insisted you finish eating and ushered you upstairs to bed. You could remember the same man who had forced you up steps a few days earlier, but he seemed a million miles away now. 

The man sleeping beside you now, his brows knit together as he dreamed, wasn’t that person. Perhaps he was on the surface, but underneath that mask, you were learning he was a warm, complicated person. He wasn’t the asshole you had called him so many times and you weren’t the bitch you pretended to be. There was an art to lying as much as you two had to one another. 

Shifting slightly, you take a breath, only to hold it when Wonwoo’s eyes flutter open. He was apparently a light sleeper. You had wondered if he was; he always seemed to be awake at the apartment so seeing him asleep was a rare, fleeting treat. Looking over your face, Wonwoo’s lips pull up slightly in a smile before he turns to lay on his back with a sigh. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo rubs his eyes with his middle finger and thumb as he yawns. You smile watching him enjoy how domestic the moment feels, wishing it would never end. You find yourself letting your eyes move over Wonwoo a bit more brazenly while he’s distracted. How attractive he was had never escaped you; it had just been overshadowed by how much he had frightened you, but now, as he rubbed at his tired eyes, you found him even more handsome. 

“I don’t really sleep.” 

Pursing your lips, you pull your legs up towards your stomach under the blanket, your thumbnail resting against your lips as you try to hide your smile. Wonwoo lifts his brows at your reaction to him, his eyes doing something similar to yours, but he takes a bit more time before taking a breath and licking his lips. 

“What? You don’t believe me?” 

Resting your head on your bicep, you shake it slightly, move your hand from your lips. 

“It’s not that. You just confuse me. I’m not sure you are human.” 

Smiling, Wonwoo lifts his brow and lets his eyes once again move over your pretty face. If he let himself, he could imagine this being a very normal situation. Just two people lying in bed, getting closer to one another. It was almost terrifying to him that he wanted that, but looking at you as you nuzzled your cheek to the soft sweater you were now lovingly wearing, Wonwoo yearned for it. 

“I am… I just tend to run off caffeine and power naps.” 

Your laugh is welcomed music to Wonwoo’s ears. He had heard it before, when you were living your life before all of this. It hadn’t sounded like this, though. It was almost robotic then and annoying. It had gotten on his nerves; everything about you before had, and it had made hurting you easier. He couldn’t imagine hurting the girl in front of him now. Now he was fighting the urge to run his fingers over your face and over your hair. He was trying to convince himself not to kiss you again. 

“That can’t be healthy. Someone needs to take care of you, Kim Wonwoo.” 

Hearing the fake name that he had given you and your father, Wonwoo’s smile fades. You watch Wonwoo’s eyes move away from yours, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to think of what to say. You are about to ask him what’s wrong when the sound of his phone ringing draws his attention away from you and towards the nightstand. 

Narrowing his eyes at the name on the screen, Wonwoo sits up, swiping it almost angrily from the top of the nightstand before answering the phone. Your eyes follow him as he slides from the bed and runs his fingers through his hair, his voice suddenly deeper and rougher. 

“What the fuck do you want now?” 

Scowling at Wonwoo’s attitude, Park Bonhwa slams the door to his Cadillac, giving a lingering look to his driver. They all knew he was in a bad mood, he had been since he had taken on this contract and it was giving them all a headache. Jeon Wonwoo was a serious pain in the ass.

“You know what I fucking wanted, motherfucker! Now I just want her corpse. I’ll send someone else to get it if you are too much of a pussy to—” 

“You won’t do anything!” 

Being cut off by Wonwoo, Bonhwa smacks his hand against the metal door in front of him. The professional that had come so highly recommended was starting to look more like a petulant child than a hitman. 

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do, Jeon?” 

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo glances back at you, realizing you could hear more of his conversation than he would like. He could see the tears on your cheeks and he needed to fix this. Pulling open the bedroom door, Wonwoo slams it behind him, leaving you alone and unable to hear anything more than his muffled angry voice and the occasional word, but it was enough. You understood what “Park” wanted. Wonwoo had offered to help you disappear, but maybe that was too difficult. 

Hissing out his words like venom, Wonwoo glares at the window in front of him as if Bonhwa is in front of him. At this point, he wished the man was. He would let him take your place and make this all a lot simpler. 

“I’ll take care of it! Wire the goddamn money, you piece of shit. If your timeline can speed up, my price can go up.” 

Wonwoo can hear Bonhwa’s argument starting but he is quick to cut him off before he starts by ending the call. There was a lot to explain to you and a lot to apologize for. Granted, he didn’t really owe you or anyone an apology for living his life and making a living in the best way he knew how. It wasn’t his fault he had fallen—no, he wasn’t going to admit that even to himself. 

Scrolling through his contacts, Wonwoo hits another name, placing the phone back against his ear and letting it ring. His head was starting to hurt. He hadn’t slept enough; like he had told you, he rarely did, but now it was starting to weigh on him. 

“What? Turning yourself in?” 

Wonwoo scoffs at Choi Seungcheol’s words as he slides down the wall outside of the bedroom. There had only been one man who had even come close to catching him and it had been Detective Choi Seungcheol. The only reason he hadn’t was because of a deal struck between a desperate man and an even more desperate, not always by the book, detective. It had worked in Wonwoo’s favor then and he hoped it would now. 

“Never. Need to ask for that favor.” 

Rolling his eyes, Seungcheol glances around his office before leaning to close the door with a deafening click. He owed Wonwoo more than one favor, but luckily for him so far none of them had bit him in the ass. He hoped this one wouldn’t either. 

“And you need to get that girl home, Wonwoo. How long are you gonna keep her away from her family?” 

"Forever, hopefully, with your help.” 

That hadn’t been the answer that Seungcheol had been expecting. He hadn’t heard about your kidnapping through your father until another reliable source brought it to his attention. It was only when he and another officer approached your father did he even admit to you being taken. Seungcheol knew there was something strange about this case. It didn’t matter if fathers were told not to tell the police about their children being kidnapped, they would. That was just a father’s instinct to protect a child. Your father was different. He seemed like he had already accepted your death. 

“I—and why the fuck would I—”

“Because I’m going to help you get a promotion, Cheol.” 

Wonwoo knew that would get Seungcheol’s attention and it did. Now the detective was listening, his lips pursed as he looked at his computer in front of him, deep in thought, before finally letting out a breath. 

“How so?”

Of course, he would want to know what he would get out of it first. That detail didn’t make Wonwoo feel the best about this, but he would go about it however he needed to in order to help you now. Glancing towards the closed door, hoping that you weren’t upset with him for walking out, Wonwoo chewed at his cheek and knocked his head back against the wall. 

“Her dad, I think I can get—no, I know I can get enough to blow a whistle on his company. It’d be one hell of a bust for you, Detective Choi.”

Leaning forward to rest his elbow on his desk, Seungcheol scoffed at Wonwoo’s attempt at flattery. It was working. He knew that Y/L/N Financial Incorporation was shady, but he couldn’t touch it. There were too many lawyers and hoops to jump through in the corporate world that gave Seungcheol ulcers, but if it were laid in his lap… Well, that was a different story. Bringing down a corrupt trading company that many had lost their money to could do just what Wonwoo had said. He could have almost any position in the department that he wanted, or he could run for office. 

“And what do you need from me?” 

A breath of relief washes over Wonwoo at Seungcheol’s question. He knew the man had other connections and between the two of them and pulling a few other strings, they could solve this. 

“She doesn’t want to go home, Cheol, and they all want her dead. So, we give them what they want. She gets a fresh start and a new name.” 

This wasn’t something easily done, but Seungcheol knew that Wonwoo knew that. He knew what he was asking of him and now Seungcheol wasn’t sure if the prize was worth the work. Making a sound of concern, Seungcheol sits back in his chair, glancing towards his door, when Wonwoo speaks up once again. 

“Have you met her father?” 

Furrowing his brows, Seungcheol remembers talking to the man in his office. The older man had refused to come to the station, and even meeting in his own plush personal office seemed like an inconvenience. Talking about your kidnapping and possible impending death seemed like an inconvenience for him. Seungcheol remembered leaving frustrated and confused. He wasn’t a father yet but he hoped that he would be a better one than yours. 

“Mm, a real son of a bitch.” 

“He’s got a hell of a life insurance policy for Y/N. He doesn’t want her back, Cheol. Imagine how that might make her feel. She knew the moment I took her that she wasn’t going to make it, and I wasn’t even the one who told her.” 

Guilt hits Seungcheol in the stomach. He wants to argue with Wonwoo, turn on the cop and get angry with him for taking you, but from the sound of your situation, maybe it was a good thing he had taken you out of it. He wasn’t an idiot; he had already been told the stories of the business parties and the deals your father tried to make involving you. Seungcheol shakes his head and scoffs, making a face as if he’d eaten something sour.

“Fine, I’ll help you—I’ll help Y/N. Get your information together to make it worth my time. You know what you’re askin’ for, Wonwoo. Your information isn’t good enough and I lose my job? I’ll kill you.” 

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s threat, though he knows it's a good one. He knew that Choi Seungcheol would be one of the only people who would probably be able to hunt him down and would kill him given the chance, but it wouldn’t happen. 

“The information will be better than good.” 

Picking at your nails, you lean your head back against the headboard, listening to Wonwoo’s muffled voice just outside of the bedroom. The first conversation had been heated and full of hatred, but this second one seemed to be going his way. 

Your tears had dried on your cheeks, but the churning feeling hadn’t quite settled in your stomach by the time Wonwoo opens the door. He could almost feel how your attitude had shifted from before as he leaned against the doorframe. That smile that he had been enjoying was nowhere to be found, and he knew that laugh was going to be hard won. 

“Y/N…” 

You weren’t necessarily afraid of Wonwoo anymore. You weren’t even afraid or surprised by the situation; at this point, you were coming to terms with reality. Meeting his eyes, you feel the tears once again well up in your eyes as he frowns and shakes his head. 

“It’s fine, Wonwoo.” 

Moving on to the bed, Wonwoo reaches for your hand, trying to come up with the right words to explain things when you continue. 

“I know you didn’t want me to overhear it, but it really is okay. I know my father doesn’t give a shit about me. He didn’t care about my mother, so why would I be different?” Using your free hand to rub at your nose, you glance down at your hand in Wonwoo’s. “If I could just ask a favor or two?” 

Your words were breaking Wonwoo’s heart, but as you spoke, they felt necessary. Each word builds on one another, like an explanation of you, until you finally ask something of him. Humming softly to let you continue, Wonwoo swallows hard, reaching out with his free hand to push at your tears on your cheek with his thumb. 

“I don’t want to be in pain and could you make my death mean something? Make it a lesson for him? He’s going to get even richer from it, but that doesn’t mean—-”

Having heard enough, the implication of you asking him to make your death not painful, Wonwoo slides his hand along your cheek to cup your face. 

“Stop, Y/N… just—shh, please, princess?” 

Closing your eyes when Wonwoo stops you mid sentence, you lean into his touch, feeling his forehead rest against yours. You meant every word. You hated the idea of being overwhelmed with pain or fear at the moment of your death, just as much as you hated your father using your death for his own gain. You felt like those were valid wishes from a dead woman, but maybe they were too hard for the one who had to fulfill them. 

“I can’t listen to you talk like that. Fuck—” 

Wonwoo was a cold man on most days. He didn’t have many emotions and none that would be shared with most people, but today he felt tears collecting on the rims of his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or the last time his chest felt so heavy as he had someone in his hands. The feeling of your skin against his palm was better than anything he could imagine, and he knew he would do anything for you and do anything to keep you close to him in that moment. 

“I’m not going to kill you. I told you that. They don’t get to win. Baby… I—I mean, fuck, I told you that already.” 

Hearing “baby” slip off Wonwoo’s lips makes fresh tears slip down your cheeks. It was almost cruel the cards that the world was dealing you. In your mind, there was no way you’d be able to keep this man in front of you, so why were you once again being tortured by wanting him and his love? You were starting to understand him, or so you thought, and he wasn’t the type to keep people around or love them. 

Shaking your head, you try to lean back, wanting to make this separation easier on you and Wonwoo, but your fingers hold you to him. A sound of pain escapes Wonwoo’s lips as he slides along your arm and he shakes his head in return. 

“I’ll make you disappear; remember, I said I knew someone, and I’ll—” The words seem difficult and unplanned as Wonwoo leans back, his fingers once again trying to get rid of your tears as you meet his eyes. He looks desperate, almost like a different person—a man not willing to lose what’s in front of him. “I’ll disappear with you.” 

Wrapping your hands around Wonwoo’s wrists, you give him a confused look. There were so many questions on your mind because so many things about what he just said didn’t make sense to you. You didn’t understand how his friend could just make you disappear and go with you. 

“Why?” Now the same confusion was written on Wonwoo’s face as you asked the one word question, prompting you to speak again. “Why would you disappear with me, Wonwoo?” 

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo strokes his thumb along your cheek. That was a valid question. You had every right to ask that, and he should answer it. Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo licks his lips and glances down at yours before cursing under his breath. He knew the answer, it was just the most difficult thing he had ever admitted to another person in his life.

“I—shit, Y/N… it’s cause…” 

You watch Wonwoo struggle with his words, feeling his fingers move over your skin as his brows furrow, almost in pain at how hard he’s trying to manifest his sentence. What was so hard to say to you? Sighing, you start to pull away again when Wonwoo’s lips meet yours and you only whimper into the kiss. 

Wonwoo hopes the kiss will be enough to explain what he’s trying to say, but even as he deepens it and his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips, he knows it’s not. He can feel your hand grabbing at his bicep and the words bubble up in his throat, escaping on to your lips like a breath. 

“I love you.” 

Your eyes close tighter at Wonwoo’s words, the confession hitting you in the chest like a brick. You scratch at his arm under your fingers and let out a soft sob into the kiss, feeling him nod, almost understanding you without words. The tension in the room is thick and warm. It felt like a blanket in the middle of the summer, making you both feel like you were overheating. 

Laying you back on the bed, Wonwoo hovers over you, looking over your face, when he finally pulls back from the kiss. Your tears still flow freely from the corners of your eyes, causing him to swipe at them and shake his head, wishing he could will them away with a single word. 

“I do; I’m sorry—” 

Wrapping your hand into the front of Wonwoo’s t-shirt, pull him down hard to meet your lips, speaking against them as he starts to apologize for loving you. You silence him with your kiss, letting him settle between your thighs as you pull your knee up towards his hip. Wonwoo groans softly into your mouth, his brows finally relaxing, feeling you invite him closer to you. 

With your free hand, you run your fingers through Wonwoo's hair, arching your back as his fingers gather your dress at your hip. After nipping at your lips, he tilts back to look down at you, searching your eyes before staring at his hand as he exposes more of your skin. The air crackles with electric anticipation as desire intensifies between you and Wonwoo. Every touch and every glance fuels the growing fire within, leaving you both yearning for more, unable to resist the magnetic pull between your bodies. On an exhale, you let out a soft whine, walking your fingers along Wonwoo's jaw, your words coming out breathy and soft.

“Don’t apologize for saying that to me, Wonwoo.” 

Closing his eyes, Wonwoo turns his attention back towards you, leaning to press his lips against your wrist. He knew he had a lot to explain to you. There was a lot you didn’t understand, a lot of half truths he had told you. He didn’t wait anymore, not when he rested between your warm thighs and felt your fingers tighten on his shirt, keeping him close to you like you never wanted to lose him. He was afraid once you knew the full truth about him, you wouldn’t want him this close to you again. 

“Want you so fucking bad, princess.” 

Wonwoo’s words are quiet, his lips moving to press against your jaw as he lays his body against yours. You whine, finally letting go of his shirt in place of wrapping your arm around his waist so you can pull his shirt up his back. All that tension in the room feels like a fire burning around you when you hear him say those words out loud. 

Nodding, you lift your hips towards Wonwoo, feeling him smile against your skin before he furrows his brows and whines into a groan. Fingers slide under your dress, along your inner thigh, until finally Wonwoo finds what he was searching for. He can feel your warmth through your damp lace and it’s driving him crazy. 

Glancing up at you, Wonwoo watches your lips fall open as he uses his middle finger to press the lace between your folds. It doesn’t take more than a second for him to put pressure on your already throbbing clit, and you are wanting and needing more. 

“Please… please, more…” 

Wonwoo feels his cock twitch in at your breathy moans. Each new word on your lips—better than anything he had ever experienced. There was no other high that he could think of that could compare to the way his brain soared at such simple words slipping from between your pretty lips. He could feel himself becoming addicted to you with each breathy moan that he earned. 

He wanted to give you everything you wanted and more; it would be easy. He could move his fingers ever so slightly and have his fingers inside of you, but looking at your face, Wonwoo paused. Swallowing hard, Wonwoo puts his head down, kissing your collarbone in the process as you feel his fingers slide to your thigh. 

“Wha—Wonwoo?”

Reaching for his hand, trying to get him to go back to what he had been doing, you feel Wonwoo’s hand wrap around your wrist. Instead of letting you guide his hand, he lifts yours to his mouth, kissing your fingers as he meets yours eyes, giving you an apologetic look. 

“I do want you, baby... but I need to explain some things to you first. I need you to understand who you are letting touch you, so that if you don’t want—” 

Sliding up in the bed under Wonwoo, you cup his face, pressing your lips to his to silence him before he starts rambling. You weren’t stupid; you knew there were lies and obviously plenty weighing on his mind, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. Meeting his eyes, you wait for him to speak, finally seeing some of the tension once again release from his face. 

“Earlier, uh, you called me Kim Wonwoo.” 

Nodding, you trace Wonwoo’s cheek as he settles on the bed in front of you. His hands slide over your legs, letting you adjust so that you are more comfortable. When you drape your leg over his, Wonwoo glances down at your exposed knee, tracing a small scar, trying to distract himself as he speaks. 

“That’s not my name. I mean, sort of. It’s Jeon Wonwoo.” 

Afraid to meet your eyes, Wonwoo draws shapes on your leg as he continues to explain his life to you. This is the only job he’s ever really known. He doesn’t explain how he got into it, but he’s hurt a lot of people and though he doesn’t say it, you understand he’s killed several people. 

“Did they deserve it?” 

The question makes Wonwoo’s throat feel like it’s closing up. That was the most difficult question he had ever been asked. This was why he didn’t have emotions or show them. You were bringing out his emotions and making his heart feel things that he hadn’t felt in decades. Watching Wonwoo lean his head back, you feel sorrow for the man in front of you. You want to fix his life, but then you remember how fucked up your own life is as he laughs sadly and shakes his head before shrugging. 

“I don’t know, babe. No, not all of them. I didn’t ask them about their morals.”

Shushing Wonwoo, you tilt his head back down to look at you as you lean to brush your lips over his again, feeling him melt under your touch and kiss. It should matter more to you about Wonwoo’s past and possibly his future, but you find that you are more concerned about how he feels about you. 

“Did I deserve it?” 

Grabbing your wrists, Wonwoo sits back, staring at you, before letting go of one hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. It was a painful question, but a fair one. You had every right to ask it and he needed to answer it no matter how much it hurt him to do it. 

“I thought you did at first. Made it easier to take you, to scare you.” Taking a breath, Wonwoo traces the shape of your ear with his fingers meeting your eyes. “But now I know you didn’t deserve any of this. I’m sorry, Y/N. If you wanna walk out that door, I’ll let you leave.” 

Wonwoo’s hand starts to drop from your face as he finishes what he needs to say. He looks defeated and certain you are going to not only kick him out of bed, but worse, you might actually want to leave. The moment his fingers drop from your jaw, you shake your head and move forward, hearing a soft, surprised gasp escape from Wonwoo’s lips when you put his back on the bed. Straddling his hips, you nudge your nose against his and tease him by brushing your lips like a whispered word along his, making him lean up to chase you before you speak. 

“I thought you said you’d disappear with me, Jeon Wonwoo?” 

His real name on your lips almost floors Wonwoo. His head resting back on the bed, Wonwoo nods, reaching up to once again cup your face with his hand as he mutters his promises. 

“I will, yes. I promise... as soon as we can.” 

Crashing your lips into his, you hear Wonwoo groan deeply at the feeling. The kiss is different, it’s almost sealing the promise and you both seem to realize that. Fingers once again slide under your dress so that Wonwoo can trace the curve of your ass as you sit down over his half hard cock trapped in his sweatpants. 

You were so warm even with his pants and your thin panties, and it was causing Wonwoo’s mind to malfunction. It had been a long time since he had let himself really enjoy sex and a woman’s body for more than just a carnal need. If this had been anyone else, it would be over in minutes without much more than a word said from either person. Everything about you had Wonwoo’s brain screaming to take his time and teach you he could be better. 

“Fuck… baby.” Groaning into something that sounds more like a whimper, Wonwoo rocks his hips up to meet yours, feeling you roll your hips over him. “Lay down, let me take care of you.” 

Smiling, you sit up, running your fingers over Wonwoo’s chest, feeling him take deep breaths under your touch. In the past, you would have agreed to something like that without question. You would be the first to admit that you were lazy in bed with other people, a bit of a pillow princess, but with Wonwoo, you wanted to be something different. He made you want to show him more, give him more. Show him he is worth more. He was worth the risk. 

Shaking your head, you slide down the length of his body, feeling Wonwoo’s eyes on you as he tells you to let him take over once again. He is silenced when your hot breath fans over the front of his sweatpants and his cock jerks almost violently in reaction. 

Pressing his head back against the bed, Wonwoo just nods, lifting his hips as your fingers press into the top of his sweatpants, working them down his thighs. Your eyes focus on his face, the way he bites at his bottom lip when his cock is exposed to the air and you for the first time. Finally looking down, you tilt your head and swallow hard, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear your reaction when your eyes move over his cock from base to tip. 

“You okay? Princess… I said, let me—” 

“Shhh, you are just so big, Wonwoo. It’s a compliment. Take off your shirt for me.” 

Your words go straight to Wonwoo’s head and make his face burn, the flush evident running from his neck to his cheeks as he lets out a slow breath. Dropping his pants into the floor, you keep your eyes on him, enjoying the view as he does as you ask, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it across the room. 

Laying back reluctantly, he sits back up on his elbows as his cock leaks pre-cum against his abdomen, his eyes moving over you while you shift closer, running your hand along his thigh. 

“Baby—c’mon… Let me see you at least.” 

Smirking slightly, you work the sweater over your head as Wonwoo watches carefully. 

“I think you are being impatient.” 

Quietly laughing, Wonwoo reaches out to run his thumb along your knee, his eyes following your fingers as you work your dress up your body. 

“Maybe… but you are so fucking beautiful and you won’t let me touch you first. I was close before... you were begging me.” 

Humming in agreement with Wonwoo, you hand him your dress, watching him smile as he drops it on the floor with his clothes. His eyes stay focused on you as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, feeling it give way. 

“Maybe I want you to beg me instead.” 

Lifting his brow, Wonwoo takes a deep breath as your bra falls from your body. He knew you were perfect. There had been no doubt about that from the moment he first saw you as your bodyguard, but seeing you like this and feeling this way about you was a privilege. 

“I don’t beg for things, princess.” 

Tilting your head, you sit back on your ass between Wonwoo’s legs. With one leg on either side of his, you lift your hips, working your panties down. You hear his breath hitch as you lift one leg and then the other, slipping them off and letting them hang on your fingers before you offer them to him with a question in your eyes. 

“You don’t?” 

Reaching out to take your panties from you, Wonwoo scoffs when you pull them back just as his fingers graze them. He knows he could simply move and take them from you, but he knows what you want and you were making his mouth water. Licking his lips, Wonwoo tightens his jaw and meets your eyes, putting out his hand. 

“But I will for you. Please, baby? Don’t tease me.” 

Teasing Wonwoo was fun and it was powerful, but giving him something that he needed was just as rewarding. Smirking, you put your panties in Wonwoo’s hand, moving back to your knees as you watch him bring them to his nose, taking a deep breath of you. Only once he’s had his fill does he drop them next to the bed with the rest of the clothes and lick his lips, swallowing hard at the sight of you. 

"Sure, I can’t take care of you first?” 

Shaking your head, you listen to Wonwoo groan your name when your fingers wrap around his cock. He is heavy in your hand and you find yourself wanting that weight on your tongue. You want him to moan your name like that as you swallow as much of his cock as you can… so instead of answering him, you act on your desires. 

Falling back on the bed, Wonwoo curses loudly as your warm mouth wraps around him. Letting your mouth meet your hand, you moan around Wonwoo, sucking on his head as you pull back, only to sink back down over him without warning. It had been far too long since Wonwoo had been with someone even close to as determined as you in bed and that was becoming too evident as he struggled to keep himself from cumming too soon. 

“Bab—shit! Y/N… slow—ah, don’t wanna…” 

Pulling back from Wonwoo’s cock with a small popping sound, you feel his hips jerk under your hand as you continue to stroke him. Everything you had wanted from him was becoming a reality. You were dripping onto the bed under you from the sounds coming out of Wonwoo’s mouth and the taste of him on your tongue. 

Clinging to the bedding under him, Wonwoo groans loudly as you press your tongue against his slit. Not wanting to cum into your mouth, he reaches to grab at your hair, whining your name and pushing his ass against the bed, trying to get away from your mouth. 

“Wanna—please? Feels too good. Let me have you.” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes again, you lick your lips, tasking the pre-cum smeared on them, listening to another groan slip from between his lips at the sight. You were going to be the death of him before he got his cock in you at this rate. 

Sitting back, you laugh when Wonwoo wastes no time turning over on the bed so he can get back between your thighs. With no lace between him and your pussy this time, he shakes his head and lets out a slow breath, lowering himself down to press kisses to your thighs before running his tongue through your wet folds. 

Wonwoo groans, his fingers gripping you tighter and pulling you closer to his mouth as he tastes you for the first time. Every worry disappears, along with every thought in his mind, as he focuses on you and nothing else. Wrapping his arm around your leg, Wonwoo adjusts himself on the bed, listening to your soft whimpering moans, driving him to make you feel even better. 

You could already feel yourself tightening around nothing as Wonwoo sucked around your clit, his fingers pushing your folds apart, giving him access to the sensitive bundle of nerves. You wanted and needed more. The desire to be full of him overwhelms your brain just as much as your impending orgasm. 

“Plea—Wonwoo…  your fingers. I need something inside of me.” 

You clearly had no idea how sexy your words were because, as soon as you spoke them, Wonwoo was trying not to thrust his hips into the mattress to find relief. Clawing at Wonwoo’s arm, you whimper his name doing your best to get what you want at your pace. Nodding, he groans, leaning back just enough to watch as he works a finger into you, feeling your tight walls suck him in. You weren’t even close to being able to handle his cock if he had to work for one finger. 

“Baby… relax.” 

Scoffing, you roll your hips down over Wonwoo’s finger as he nips at your folds, sending waves of pleasure through you. How did he expect you to relax with what was going on between your legs? Shooting him a contemptuous look, you watch as Wonwoo grins up at you before looking back at his fingers as he gently adds a second. 

“You’ve given me that look before, princess. Right before you told me you hoped I lost my job as your bodyguard.” 

Thrusting his fingers deep into you, Wonwoo watches you arch your back, a loud moan dripping off your lips like honey. There had been times before all of this, when he had been playing the part of your bodyguard when he had brief moments of weakness, picturing turning you over a surface and fucking some respect into you. If the man he was then could see him now. He imagined that man would not only be shocked at how much he had changed in such a short time, but he would probably be jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous to see your cum dripping down his palm towards his wrist as he continued to fuck you with his fingers? 

“Yes, baby… Fuck—another one. Just like that. Cum all over my fingers; take another one.” 

A third finger slips into you and you practically scream in pleasure at how full you feel. The first orgasm had made your thighs start to shake, but the second one had come on so quickly after the first that you were crying. Tears drip from your cheeks as you push your hips down over Wonwoo’s fingers until you can’t take it anymore, the overstimulation making you close your legs around his hand. 

Giving you one more deep thrust of his fingers, Wonwoo presses his lips to your shin as he slowly and carefully slides his fingers from your warm, throbbing pussy. You were panting out your moans like a cat in heat and it was better than anything Wonwoo had ever seen or heard in his life. There was nothing staged that could measure up to you—no porn or even work of art that matched you. 

Running his hands along your knees, Wonwoo meets your eyes as he works your legs apart, feeling them shake under his touch. He knew you were still sensitive, but his cock was aching for you. Resting between your legs, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling your wet folds against his shaft as he rocks his hips towards you. One more questioning look, asking for permission, and getting a frantic nod from you is all it takes for him to ease himself into you. 

The feeling of Wonwoo inside of you is so much more than his fingers and it takes your breath away. Pressing your face against his neck, you gasp, feeling the stretch when he finally stops moving, his hips flush with yours. Closing his eyes, Wonwoo has to take a steady breath, feeling you clench around him, threatening to make him cum on the spot. 

“Baby, breathe… Is it too much?” 

Shaking your head, you cling to Wonwoo, afraid he will pull out and you’ll be empty again. You whine his name, leaning your head back onto the pillows, meeting his eyes. Searching your eyes for pain, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands to brush his thumb over your cheek as he waits patiently for you to adjust to him, though it takes every ounce of patience he has. 

“Okay, just tell—tell me when I can move.” 

Nodding quickly, you scratch at Wonwoo’s sides, hearing him hiss at the feeling. You were ready for him to move, but words were hard to form. You were finding it hard to think of anything other than him and the feeling of his cock buried so deep inside of you. Lifting your hips, you moan his name and Wonwoo groans, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. Warm breath fans across your lips as he nods and whispers, “Okay,” before moving slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or himself too quickly. 

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, more tears roll from your eyes to your temples at how good it feels to have Wonwoo inside of you. The way his cock stretches you so perfectly and how his head brushes over your spot each time pulls out enough to push right back into your warm walls. 

“Please, please, Wonwoo, baby... faster.” 

Your pleas come out as sobbing moans, causing Wonwoo to give you a concerned look, but as soon as he sees the fucked out look on your face, he can’t help but give you what you want. His thrusts become more urgent and harder. With each one, Wonwoo feels you get that much tighter around his cock until finally the coil inside you snaps. He had thought you were wet before but feeling your cum on his cock was an experience that Wonwoo knew he would never forget and it was enough to send him barreling over the edge after you. 

Resting his head against your neck, Wonwoo curses under his breath, feeling his cum seep out of you, mixing with yours. He was usually much more careful than this, but he had gotten lost in the moment. Shaking his head, Wonwoo carefully slides out of you and meets your eyes full of guilt, only to find you still full of bliss. 

“I didn’t even ask, baby. I’m sorry—” 

Sliding your hand along Wonwoo’s jaw to his neck, you shake your head and close your eyes. You knew what had happened and what could come of it, but that wasn’t something that you could concern yourself with today. Right now, you are just happy to be alive and in bed with Wonwoo. It was the first time in possibly your entire life that you were this happy and you wouldn’t let him spoil it with guilt. 

“Don’t... just tell me that you love me again.” 

Unable to stop his lips from pulling up in a smile, Wonwoo shakes his head at your reaction to the situation. Moving to lay beside you, knowing neither of you could stay like this for long without taking a shower, he pulls you into his arms and presses his lips against your neck. You smile, wrapping your arms around his. 

“I love you, Y/N.”  

“I love you too, Wonwoo.” 

This was the longest you had seen Wonwoo sleep. Even as you ran your fingers delicately along the bridge of his nose, he barely flinched. A smile pulls at your lips at the sight and at how warm and safe you feel lying next to him as the sun rises. 

During the time that you had been awake, Wonwoo’s phone had gone off twice. You had a good feeling that the missed calls were from Park Bonhwa, but you couldn’t bear the thought of waking Wonwoo or checking his phone. There was a beautiful silence surrounding you both and not even that man could ruin it, as long as you didn’t let him. 

Tracing the dip of Wonwoo’s cupid’s bow, you watch as his lips twitch into a soft smile and his eyes slowly open. It was selfish of you to touch Wonwoo so much when he was sleeping so soundly, but seeing his eyes on you and feeling the comfort of them made it worth it. 

Pulling you into his arms, Wonwoo grunts softly at the feeling of your cold fingers sliding along his ribs. He could get used to this—waking up and seeing you first thing. He wanted to get used to it, but there were things that had to happen first. 

“Mm, morning, baby. “ 

Lips press against the top of your head and you find yourself nuzzling against Wonwoo’s chest, not wanting to face anything in the real world. You like the way his deep voice sounds when you are so close to his body, the way it seems to vibrate in his chest. Resting your ear against his chest, you smile and bite at your bottom lip, hearing Wonwoo laugh. 

“Don’t wanna get up?” 

Shaking your head, you whine, and Wonwoo runs his long fingers along your back, stopping to draw small circles along your spine before tracing each notch on his way up to your neck. He understood the sentiment and wanted to give you what you wanted. He wanted to give you everything you wanted now. 

“We need to talk about what comes next. Cheol is going to work on what we need for you to disappear, but he needs payment.” 

There was always a catch to everything. That was something that you understood from a very young age. Everything came with a price. Your father never let you think that money grew on trees. Despite knowing you were incredibly wealthy and that you could potentially have anything you wanted, he made you earn his respect before he would give you any allowance or credit cards. Your father’s respect had cost the most out of anything you had ever paid for in your life. You will never forget the day you told your mother that you loved your father more than her and watched her face fall. 

“Mmkay, how much money does he need?” 

Wonwoo shakes his head at the mention of money. Of course your mind would go to money first; that was how your father had probably raised you. It wasn’t your fault that you were the way you were; Wonwoo understood that now. You were broken because you were carefully shattered piece by piece by your father over the course of your life. 

“Not money, baby. Information. Trust me, this will be good for everyone in the end.” Smirking, Wonwoo lifts his hand from your back to scratch at his eyebrow as he scoffs at his own words, correcting them. “Almost everyone.” 

Information was a currency you were familiar with; it just wasn’t something you commonly used. You have seen your father get rich off information plenty of times. Leaning your head back, you glance up at Wonwoo, furrowing your brows as he lifts his hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. 

“About my father?”

The next couple of hours you spend against Wonwoo go through what you know about your father’s company. You tell him more about the business dinners and dates that he has set up for you over the years and though Wonwoo listens carefully, he seethes. Every new piece of information he leaves about your father makes him hate the man even more. 

It’s when you get to your mother that you find it more difficult to talk with confidence. You find strength in Wonwoo’s touch, his hands gliding over your skin as his lips press to your forehead, taking in each word. Your sorrow at losing the one person who meant something to you, becomes Wonwoo’s sorrow when tears drip from your cheek onto his chest. 

“Baby… I know this is too much. I’m sorry, we can talk more about the business side—”

“It’s okay. It’s his fault.” Rubbing your nose hard, you pull your legs under you, letting Wonwoo tuck you into his side. “I don’t know how, but I just know it is. She didn’t just die.” 

There is no doubt in Wonwoo’s mind that you are right about your assumption. With as much life insurance that your father had placed on you, he could only imagine the amount he would put on a spouse. 

“He kept reminding me after her funeral that I loved him more. He kept giving me gifts and all this money…” 

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Wonwoo tries to picture you mourning and your brute of a father wooing you out of it with possessions. The cold woman who had treated her staff like trash was just a reflection of him. 

“He’ll pay for that, Y/N. I promise.” 

You nod along with Wonwoo’s words, though you don’t understand how he plans on making that happen. In your eyes, your father was bulletproof. He was a cliff face that you kept hitting as the waves pushed you around like you were nothing. 

Tracing the shape of your bottom lip as you rest against his shoulder, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling concern wash over him. You had talked until you couldn’t anymore. Exhaustion had taken over you and not even having him next to you or food in your stomach was enough to keep your eyes open any longer. You looked calm like this—breathing softly against his bare skin—even as you squeezed your eyes shut a bit tighter in your sleep. 

Wonwoo carefully slides his arm from under you, letting your cheek rest against his palm as he adjusts the pillow under your head. Now you look comfortable. He hated the idea of not having you in his arms, but there was much left to do. Giving you one more glance as he swipes his phone from the nightstand, Wonwoo opens the bedroom door and closes it before making his way downstairs. 

Seungcheol was trying not to get antsy about his current situation, but the minutes were ticking by and it didn’t seem like you or Wonwoo were in a rush. So when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the detective lets out a sigh of relief, leaning against his car. 

“I won’t lie, I had a few moments today when I thought you might be fucking me over.” 

Smirking at Seungcheol’s words, Wonwoo uses his index finger to pull the blinds ever so slightly from the window so he can check the street out of habit. 

“Just when we were starting to like one another?” 

Getting behind the wheel of the Audi, Seungcheol scoffs and presses the button to start his car. The sooner he could be away from the station, the better, especially if this conversation was going to go where he imagined it to. Hearing the sound of the engine as Seungcheol wastes no time in pulling out of the parking garage, Wonwoo shakes his head, dropping the blinds back in place and lowering himself into a nearby armchair. 

“I needed time to talk to Y/N. She’s the one with the most information, and she had plenty. Like I said, Cheol… you’ll get a promotion out of this.” 

Seungcheol can’t stop himself from taking a deep breath in anticipation. If the information was as good as Wonwoo was alluding to, this could be the best decision he has ever made. 

“I’m listening.” 

“And I have terms.” 

Of course he did. The good feeling that Seungcheol had for a fleeting moment sank right back into his chest with Wonwoo’s words. Leaning his head back against the leather headrest, Seungcheol tightens his grip on the steering wheel and narrows his eyes as he speaks. 

“Again, I’m listening.” 

Tilting his head, Wonwoo bites at his cheek out of a mixture of nerves and frustration. He knew that Seungcheol would be happy with what he had to tell him, but he had to make sure that you were taken care of. On top of that, he hadn’t known that he wanted to leave with you; that was a possible kink in the plan as far as Seungcheol might be concerned. 

“New name, meaning all IDs.” Seungcheol groans in annoyance at Wonwoo’s request; it was what he had assumed, but as soon as he starts to speak, he is cut off and rendered speechless. “For both of us.” 

“I—” 

Picking at a loose string on the chair, Wonwoo listens to Seungcheol struggle to make heads or tails of what he had just asked of him before he continues. 

“Money; we both know she can’t keep her accounts. We will need a safe flight out of Korea.” 

With his head spinning at all Wonwoo was asking of him, Seungcheol pulls his car over, putting it in park, before letting out an unamused laugh. 

“I—well fuck… anything else? Would you like for me to make her the Queen of England while I’m at it?” The amusement fades from his voice as he smacks at his dashboard. “Why are you asking for impossible things? How in the hell am I going to get you out of Korea?” 

“Figure it out, Seungcheol! Or are you not interested in bringing down her piece of shit father?” 

Throwing up his hands, Seungcheol scoffs in disbelief, unsure what could be worth giving up, Jeon Wonwoo. 

“For what? Some shady trading? The insurance policy? Give me something better than that or I’m gonna bring both of your asses in.” 

“Embezzlement, laundering, and possible murder.” 

Every snide comment and scoff that Seungcheol has been giving Wonwoo stops when he hears those words. 

“If—can she prove it?” 

Looking down at his hands, Wonwoo digs his nail into his thumb, feeling frustrated with Seungcheol and the entire situation. You shouldn't have to prove anything. It was practically being laid out for him, but he understood that some horses had to be led to water. 

“Y/N said there is a lawyer, Son Hyunwoo. Pay him enough and he’ll spill everything.” 

Typing the name into his phone and keeping Wonwoo on speaker in his car, Seungcheol nods, looking over the practice that Son Hyunwoo belongs to and some of his more prevalent clients. To the general public, his client list looked like a billboard for great service and reliability, but to a good detective, it screamed corruption. 

“This is good. If he talks, I’ll get you what you need. I’ll be in touch.” 

Wonwoo runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath when the phone disconnects. He hoped for your sake, more than his own, that you were right. 

— Two Days Later —

Bonhwa glares at his phone, seeing Wonwoo’s name. The man had been avoiding him like it was his job and now, just as he was about to have the dogs on his heels, he decided it was a good time to call. Gritting his teeth, Bonhwa answers his phone while pushing the heel of his hand under his nose to clean the white powder from it with a loud sniff. 

“Wanna make this easier on everyone by bringing her to my office? I promise I won’t kill you; just break something.” 

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo had already prepared for Park Bonhwa’s empty threats. He wasn’t afraid of him anymore than he was afraid of a dog without teeth. He knew that Bonhwa couldn’t find him, which means he couldn’t find you. With time, if the two of you stayed in Seoul, he might get a sniff on a trail, but that wasn’t happening. 

“I’ve been busy. Why are you so fuckin’ grumpy?” 

Watching Seungcheol load a suitcase into the trunk of the car as he talks to you, Wonwoo furrows his brows, hearing Bonhwa’s voice go up an octave. He knew he was pushing his buttons, but he had a reason. There was always a reason behind what Wonwoo did. 

“Why—why am I? You stupid son of a bitch! Half! I get half when I deliver proof of that bitch’s body to Hyong. Do you know how humiliating—” 

Hearing Wonwoo sigh, Bonhwa stops mid sentence to stare at the desk in front of him. He had half a mind to get in his car right now and search the entire city for Jeon Wonwoo. Feeling his phone vibrate in his hand, he furrows his brow and lets out a disgruntled sound, ready to continue telling Wonwoo off when Wonwoo speaks first. 

“Check your email. It’s done… makes no fucking sense to drive around with a body.” 

Your eyes follow Wonwoo as he paces talking to Bonhwa, you barely hear Seungcheol talking to you. Noticing you aren’t understanding what he’s telling you, the man steps in front of you, obscuring your view. 

“Can we finish our conversation now, Y/N? He’s fine. He’s taking care of what he needs to, so let’s go over the rest of this shit.” 

You weren’t sure how you felt about Choi Seungcheol. You could see why he had been the one who had gotten close to Wonwoo, he was tenacious and abrasive. Nodding, you watch as Seungcheol lifts his brows and leans to take a folder out of his car, showing it to you. 

“ID, passport, some cash... Wonwoo knows how to get more when it’s needed. This won’t be like the pampered life you had before, so—” 

“You don’t know anything about me, Seungcheol.” 

In the short time that he had known you, Seungcheol had heard you speak a handful of times. You had to let Wonwoo speak for you or at least let him carry the conversations. To say that he perhaps had a skewed view of you based on what he knew about your father and researching you, would be an understatement. 

“Maybe not, but I’m just saying... make it last. Keep your mouth shut.” 

Holding out your hand for the folder, you lock eyes with Seungcheol as he places it in yours. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

A smirk pulls at one side of the detective’s lips at your words. That he did know. There was no way Wonwoo would put this much effort into keeping you alive if you were. Letting go of the folder, Seungcheol takes a step back and glances back to Wonwoo as he grunts, bending the phone in his hand with some effort. The screen shatters first and then the metal gives way, effectively destroying the device before he tosses it towards the river, listening to the dull thud when it hits the surface. 

“That bullshit is done. He’s satisfied with what you came up with.” 

Scoffing, Seungcheol shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling a bit offended at the insinuation that anyone wouldn’t be satisfied with his work. He had gone above and beyond for this. You had been lucky that the information you had provided for him had been the best he had received in a long time. It had served as motivation for what Seungcheol saw as a work of art. 

“Yeah? Well maybe you should have dealt with pulling a Jane Doe out of the morgue.” 

Wonwoo exhales an unamused laugh, sliding his hand around your waist. He knew that Seungcheol had worked hard and he appreciated it. He could almost taste freedom and it was a strange sensation. 

“No thanks. I’ll leave that to the professionals.” Leaning to kiss the side of your head, Wonwoo gives you a once over before glancing back at the car, seeing it packed. “Ready to go?” 

You had no idea where you and Wonwoo were going. He and Seungcheol told you that in case things went south, it was better for you to know less. While you understood that, it still made leaving your entire life behind even more terrifying. Still, as you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, seeing that reassuring look in them, you manage to nod. 

“Perfect, can’t wait to get you both out of my hair.” 

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s words, knowing that while he was trying to crack a joke, there was a layer of truth to them, especially concerning himself. 

“Don’t worry, Cheol. We won’t darken your doorstep again.” 

Taking a step backwards, towards his own car, Seungcheol points at Wonwoo as he speaks. 

“I’ll fuckin’ hold you to it. Show your face around here again and I’ll throw your ass in a cell.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo turns his attention back to you, reaching to open the passenger's side door. He lets you sit down as he looks down at you, much like he did a week ago under much different circumstances. 

“Where are we going, Wonwoo?” 

You watch curiously as he tilts his head and purses his lips, trying to think of how to tell you the answer without actually answering it. 

“Did you pack a bikini?” 

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[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[anixvl]

BITTER || Y.J

pairing: boxer!jungwon x detective!fem!reader

synopsis: Months after learning the truth of the real mastermind, you and Jungwon are left standing in the aftermath—scarred and unable to pretend that things will go back to what they once were. Just as you both begin to navigate your fragile connection, a new case arises—one that ties directly to your past. A series of brutal murders mimicking your late partner’s case resurface. The deeper you dig, the more it becomes clear: the original mastermind wasn’t working alone. Now, you are once again forced into each other’s lives, uncovering dark secrets while confronting the bitter unspoken emotions that still linger between you both. But trust isn’t easily rebuilt, and love doesn’t erase betrayal. (pt 2 of BITTERSWEET)

genre: Romance, LOTS OF ANGST, enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies trope, thriller, suspense

warnings: smut MDNI, oral f!receiving, d in p, lots of arguing/profanity, mentions of guns & blood, tears tears tears!

wc: 13.5k

a/n: hi!! there may be a pt 3, “sweet,” to finish off the series! but it’s still undecided, stay tuned <3

The rain fell in thin sheets, casting a silver haze over the city skyline. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, your jaw clenched as you forced yourself to focus on the road ahead. The familiar weight of exhaustion pressed against your bones, but it wasn’t just from the late hours or the endless cases piling up on your desk.

It was him.

Jungwon sat in the passenger seat, silent. He hadn’t spoken in the last twenty minutes, not since you begrudgingly agreed to let him come with you. His presence filled the space between you like a loaded gun—dangerous, tense, and ready to explode at any moment.

you hated that he was here.

you hated that you still cared.

"We don’t have to talk, but you can at least stop pretending I don’t exist,” His voice was quieter than you expected, carrying none of the cocky arrogance he used to wear like armor.

You exhaled through your nose, your fingers tightening around the wheel, “I’m not pretending. I just have nothing to say to you."

Jungwon let out a soft laugh—bitter, edged with something unreadable, “That’s worse."

You didn’t respond.

Because what were you supposed to say?

That you haven’t stopped thinking about him in months since that day at your house?

That every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel the way his hands had held you, the way he had whispered your name like it meant something?

No. You wouldn’t give him that.

Not after what happened.

Not after shattering your heart.

The GPS beeped, signaling the destination. You turned off the ignition and reached for the case file in the back seat, ignoring the way Jungwon watched you. He was waiting for something—for a sign, a crack in your walls, anything to prove that you weren’t as indifferent as you pretended to be.

But you wouldn’t give him that, either.

you stepped out of the car, rain misting against your skin.

The warehouse loomed ahead, abandoned and rotting at the edges. The call had come in this morning—a body found inside, the method eerily similar to the one that had haunted you for the past year. Your partner’s murder.

Your stomach twisted.

Someone was playing with you.

And you weren’t sure you were ready to face it, but ready or not, you didn’t have much of a choice.

It all started on that day. The day at your house, when you first found out the sickening truth.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Seokjin sat behind his desk, his usual smirk absent, his sharp eyes locked onto you. The air between you was thick with months of bad blood, with every accusation you had ever thrown his way.

"You’ve got five minutes before I throw you out," Seokjin said coolly, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand.

You pulled the flash drive from your pocket and tossed it onto the table.

"Play it."

Seokjin arched an eyebrow but picked up the drive, inserting it into his laptop. The moment your partner’s voice filled the air, his expression shifted—just slightly.

By the time the recording ended, Seokjin exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes briefly.

"He tried to tell you," he muttered.

Your jaw clenched, “I didn’t know."

Seokjin let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head, "No, you didn’t. Because you were too busy trying to kill me."

You didn’t react. He wasn’t wrong.

You had let your grief blind you. Let the pain make you reckless. And in doing so, you had been chasing the wrong enemy this entire time.

"I need your help," you admitted.

The words felt foreign on your tongue, but you forced them out, "I don’t know how deep this goes, but I know my partner died trying to bring it to light. And if they find out I know the truth, I’ll be next."

Seokjin leaned back in his chair, studying you. Then, after a long moment, he let out a slow sigh.

"So. The detective finally realizes she’s been hunting the wrong man."

You clenched your fists, “I don’t need a speech, Seokjin. I need to finish what my partner started. He was our friend. Help me take down the people who really did this."

A tense silence stretched between you both. Then, to your surprise, Seokjin chuckled.

"You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges, detective."

You arched an eyebrow, “That’s funny, considering you spent months trying to kill me and even locked me up."

Seokjin smirked, standing up, “Fair enough."

Then, his expression darkened, “But you’re right about one thing. Whoever’s behind this? They’re not just coming for you. They’ll come for me. They’ll come for Jungwon, too. Which means…" He extended a glass of alcohol for you to take, "We’re in this together."

You hesitated—but only for a moment. Then you grasped the glass from his hand, swallowing it down—sealing the deal.

Because this time, you knew exactly who the real enemy was.

And you weren’t going to stop till you were satisfied.

The warehouse smelled of rust and decay. The air was thick with something else, too—something heavier, something familiar.

You stepped inside, your boots barely making a sound against the cracked concrete. The body lay in the center of the room, partially covered with a tarp. Red pooled beneath it, dark and glistening, seeping into the floor like a stain that would never wash away.

Jungwon moved beside you, silent. He watched you carefully as you looked at the scene before you. He wanted to be there for you, despite your barriers. He wasn’t supposed to be here—you didn’t want him here—but somehow, he had a way of inserting himself into things you wanted to keep far, far away from him.

"Same MO?"His voice was steady, but you knew him well enough to hear the tension beneath it.

You crouched beside the body, your fingers ghosting over the cold edge of the tarp before you pulled it back. The sight sent ice through your veins.

A clean shot to the chest. A knife wound to the abdomen. The precision of it was deliberate, almost surgical.

Exactly like your partner.

your stomach twisted.

"This isn’t a coincidence," you muttered, "Someone’s sending a message."

Jungwon was quiet for a moment before he asked the question you didn’t want to answer, "You think it’s connected to his murder?"

You exhaled, standing, “I don’t think. I know.”

You turned to face him, and for the first time since you let him come with you, you let yourself meet his gaze fully. There was something in his eyes—something unreadable, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

It irked you how, despite everything, your body never failed to react to him. You hated how your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Your shortness of breath near him. And the stupid, stupid, feeling of wanting his touch. You looked away.

"This isn’t over," you said, your voice steady.

Jungwon nodded, his jaw tight, “Then let’s end it."

The words should have been comforting. They weren’t.

Because ending it meant reopening wounds that had never fully healed. It meant severing ties that bounded you both together. And you weren’t sure either of you were ready for that.

The night was thick with silence as you walked back to the car, the dim light from the streetlamps flickering over the rain-slick pavement. Your steps were quick, purposeful, though your mind was miles away. Every instinct told you to push him away—push him far away—but there he was, walking beside you like nothing had changed.

And everything had changed.

Jungwon was supposed to be a ghost in your life, an ex you had buried with the pain and regret of your past. Yet, somehow, he kept finding his way back. Every time you thought you had moved on, every time you thought you could lock away the pieces of yourself you had given him, he tore through the walls again, leaving you wide open.

You tried not to look at him as you fumbled with the keys to the car.

"You don’t have to come with me," you said quietly, your voice betraying none of the turbulence inside you.

Jungwon didn't respond immediately, and for a moment, you thought he might listen, that maybe he was starting to understand the depth of your walls. But then he spoke, his voice softer than you expected.

"You know I’m not going anywhere."

The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a heavy mist that clung to the streets, distorting the neon glow of the city like a mirage. You leaned against the hood of the car, staring at the warehouse in front of you.

Jungwon was beside you, his presence like an anchor—his silence louder than any words he could’ve spoken. He hadn’t said much since you got in the car. He wasn’t the same cocky, reckless fighter you had once known. He was different, quieter, broken in a way you couldn’t understand. And yet, here he was, once again dragged into your mess, whether he liked it or not.

"You can’t keep chasing this, Y/n," Jungwon said, suddenly closer, his voice firm, bordering on pleading, “Whatever this is, it’s going to end up destroying you."

“You think I don’t know that?" You turned to face him, your fists clenched by your sides.

“I don’t care if this is bigger than us. My partner died without receiving justice. The murderer is still out there.”

"And you think you can fix it? By yourself?" Jungwon’s tone was almost incredulous, but there was a quiet fear in his eyes now—a fear that you hadn’t seen before.

"I don’t need your help, Jungwon,” Your words were cold, sharp.

But they weren’t the truth. You did need him. You needed him more than you cared to admit.

Jungwon’s face hardened, and for a moment, it felt like you were standing on the edge of a precipice—one wrong move and everything would crumble. He stepped back, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stared at you with a mixture of frustration and something else.

Something you hadn’t seen in a while.

He was always putting effort in trying to gain your forgiveness. Always supportive, taking care of you, sweet gestures, affectionate phrases, he’s tried doing it all.

This was his breaking point.

"Fine," he said after a long pause, his voice low, “Do it on your own then."

But just as he turned to leave, something in you snapped. The frustration, the years of pain, the endless cycle of not being able to fix the past—it all came crashing down.

And suddenly, for a split second, you were the girl from months ago who was head over heels for Jungwon. Before the betrayal, before the lies, before the pain.

You grabbed him by the arm, spinning him back around.

"I need you, Jungwon,” Your voice broke slightly, but you refused to let it show.

"I need you to help me fix this. Because if you don’t, I’ll do it myself. And I don’t care what happens to me in the process,” your eyes glossed as tears begin to form.

You didn’t understand it yourself, you hated him being around but hate it worse when he’s away from you.

Deep down, you must’ve known, you’ve gotten to the point in which you can’t be without him. Not even if you wanted to.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jungwon’s guard lowered. He looked at you—really looked at you—like he was seeing you for the first time. Your eyes were full of desperation, yes, but also something darker, something you’d buried deep inside for far too long.

Love.

"You’re not alone," he whispered, his voice quieter and softer now, filled with something that almost sounded like regret.

He took his hands out from his pockets, cupping your face tenderly. You instantly melt into his touch, feeling your anger almost wash away. He looked into your eyes, searching for the girl you once were.

Back when you loved him so wholeheartedly.

"I’ll help you. But you have to promise me one thing,” he said, drawing soft circle on your cheek with his thumb.

Your brows furrowed, "What?"

"Promise me you won’t destroy yourself in the process."

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. For a moment, you were quiet, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders. You didn’t know how to answer—didn’t know if you could promise him that. But in the end, you nodded.

"Fine," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll try."

Jungwon didn’t speak again, but his kiss on your forehead was all the confirmation you needed. You were in this together, whether you wanted it or not.

The morning after was nothing like you imagined. Inside your bedroom, the light through the blinds was dim, casting long shadows over the space. You stood by the window, staring out at nothing in particular, your mind far away, racing over the events that had brought you to this point.

Jungwon was still asleep, sprawled across the bed with his face to you. The sight of him, so vulnerable in sleep, made something twist inside of you. He had become a person you could barely recognize, and yet, something about the way he protected you—no matter how messy it got—still made you believe there was something worth saving.

But you couldn’t forget how you had gotten here. The anger. The betrayal. It all still felt raw.

You had been fighting this case alone for so long. And in the back of your mind, you knew—no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t do it without him. But that didn’t mean you would let your guard down. You couldn’t afford to.

When you turned to look at him again, Jungwon was shifting in his sleep, a low groan escaping his lips. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to even approach him. You had so many questions, but none of them felt like they mattered. Not yet.

You walked over to the desk, grabbing the file that had caused everything to spiral. Your fingers skimmed the pages, still looking for something that could tie all the loose ends together. There was too much at stake. Too many pieces missing.

"You really can’t sleep, huh?"

His voice was rough, but it was familiar, and it made you freeze in place. You didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, you stood there, still clutching the file, wondering how to fix everything.

"You still thinking about last night?" he continued, his voice softer this time, like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

You finally turned around, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes were intense, but there was something unreadable in them. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, frustrated, or just tired.

"Yeah." The word came out sharper than you intended. "I need answers, Jungwon."

His gaze softened for a moment, and then his mouth twisted into a half-smile, “I know you do."

He sat up and opened his arms to you. The room felt smaller now, the space between you both charged with the tension that had been building ever since you decided to work together. He wasn’t who he used to be. But Neither were you. But in some ways, that was what made everything feel more real. You slowly made your way inside his arms. Your body instantly melted against him, feeling a soft, heavy, sigh escape your lips.

"You’re not gonna let it go, are you?" he asked quietly, holding you tightly, "You think I don’t see it in your eyes?"

You shook your head slowly, “I can’t. Not when I’m this close to finding out who did it."

He was silent for a long moment, and the only sound in the room was the hum of the air conditioner. You weren’t sure if he was contemplating something or just frustrated, but when he finally spoke again, it was with a weariness that didn’t match his usual bravado.

"You know, sometimes, there’s no closure."

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you could feel the sting in your chest. You knew that. You knew it better than anyone. But that didn’t mean you were willing to accept it.

"You’re wrong," you whispered, turning to face him, "I can’t just walk away from this. If I do, I’ll never be able to look at myself the same way again."

There was a long pause. Then you felt Jungwon tenderly caress the top of your head, gazing at you with such intensity. You could feel the weight of his touch, warm and familiar, and it made your heart race in a way you weren’t prepared for.

"I get it," he said, his voice gentle now. "But you promised me something."

You turned to face him, your breath catching in your throat.

"You won’t lose yourself in all of this. You can’t let it destroy you. You can’t let it be your whole world."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. How could you promise him that? How could you promise him you wouldn’t burn yourself out chasing after a ghost when you weren’t sure if you could handle the truth?

But in that moment, you realized something. You didn’t know how to let go. And you didn’t know how to trust again. But maybe—just maybe—he was right. Maybe you needed to find a way to let the case be part of your life, not your entire existence.

You nodded slowly, meeting his eyes, "I know."

And just like that, the air between you shifted. There was still so much left unsaid, but for the first time in a long time, you both knew you were on the same side. Together, for better or worse.

The investigation had hit a dead end. Every lead you chased only seemed to open more questions, but none of the answers ever brought you closer to the truth. Every night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, wondering if you were wasting your time, wondering if you had already missed something important.

Jungwon had been quieter since that night—still here, still present, but something had shifted. It was like a wall had gone up between the two of you, even though you were both stuck in the same place, in the same mess.

He could feel the distance growing. And that hurt more than anything.

Jungwon had spent the last few months trying to earn back your trust, be worthy of your love again. To go back to how things were, how much you loved each other despite the mess you both were in.

The touches, the gazes, the affection, the laughs, the nights you spent entangled in each other’s arms. He wanted it all back. More than anything. But it seemed the more he reached for you, the more you seemed far away. So close yet so far. Oceans apart.

He was done with it.

You pushed yourself up from the bed, throwing on your jacket and grabbing your keys. Your room was suffocating, its stale air mixing with the heavy tension in the room. You needed space, needed to think.

When you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, a welcome relief from the suffocating silence inside. The world outside your room was just as empty as it felt in your mind. You walked down the street with no clear destination in mind, your thoughts swirling, trying to make sense of everything.

“Y/n."

Jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, and you stopped in your tracks, turning slowly. He stood a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets, his frantic breath vaporizing into the cold air.

He had ran to follow you.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you just met his gaze, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You’re pushing yourself too hard,” His voice was low, his concern hidden beneath layers of uncertainty, "We need to step back, rethink the case. There’s something we’re missing."

You shook your head, “No. I’m close. I can feel it. I just need to find the right piece."

"You’ve been saying that for weeks!” he bursted, frustration creeping into his tone, “…But we’ve been chasing shadows, y/n. We need a new approach."

You were silent for a long time. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface was bubbling up again, but this time, it was mixed with something else. Something raw. Something you didn’t want to face.

"You don’t get it, Jungwon," you finally snapped.

"You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re losing everything, and you can’t fix it. You don’t know what it’s like to be constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if you’re going to lose another person you care about!”

Jungwon’s expression softened, and he stepped closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. He didn’t say anything at first—just let the words hang in the air between you.

And for a moment, you thought you might crack. You thought you might let the anger go and let him in.

But then the weight of everything came crashing back. You weren’t ready to let him back in, not when you still didn’t trust yourself.

You took a step back, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Don’t. Don’t say anything—Don’t do anything,” you stated, your voice trembling. Your eyes watered.

The words came out harsher than you intended, and you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. But before he could respond, you turned away, walking quickly down the street, trying to outrun the suffocating feeling of being trapped.

You didn’t want to hurt him. You didn’t want to push him away. But you couldn’t help yourself. You were scared. Scared of losing him.

Scared of what would happen if you let him too close again.

You didn’t realize how far you’d gone until you found yourself standing in front of the alleyway, the one where your partner had died. The sight of it made your stomach turn. Memories flooded back—his laughter, his promise that everything would be okay. The days he would accompany you to your parent’s graveyard. Your birthdays he’d make sure to celebrate, knowing you were too busy to remember. He might not have been blood, but your connection went further than that. You had failed him.

And finally, you let go. You squat to the ground, soft and frustrated sobs escaping your mouth.

So close, yet so far. It’s never enough. Why?

"You’re not alone."

Jungwon’s voice echoed in your mind, and you felt the weight of his words like a rope pulling you back.

You were so focused on the past that you hadn’t even realized Jungwon had followed you. You turned, startled, only to see him standing a few feet behind you. He wasn’t angry anymore. He was just... there.

He met your glistening eyes. His face softened. You got up, wiping away your endless tears. You looked away.

"I know you’re scared," he said quietly, "But pushing me away won’t help you. You don’t have to carry this burden alone."

You stared at him, your heart aching. You wanted to fight it. You wanted to tell him to leave, that you didn’t need anyone. But the truth was, you did need him.

You needed him more than you were willing to admit.

You took a step closer to him, your voice trembling as you spoke in broken sobs.

"I’m scared, Jungwon. Scared that if I get too close to anyone again, I’ll lose them. And I don’t know if I can survive that again,” you cried, slightly losing your balance from exhaustion.

He reached out instantly, gripping onto your arm. He pulled you close. The touch was soft, comforting. He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to. You could feel the understanding between you, the shared pain, the shared fear.

"I love you," he breathed out, his voice firm but gentle, "so ardently."

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe that. You didn’t have all the answers. You didn’t know how everything would turn out. But with Jungwon by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could find a way through the darkness.

And that was enough for now.

Before you knew it, his lips connected with yours. Your hands gripped onto his jacket, the force of his kiss pushing against you. Your lips instantly melted into his. He kissed you with such longing and relief. He sighed against your lips, placing his warm hand onto your cheek. He tilted your head back slightly, deepening the kiss. Your eyes shuttered close, allowing yourself to get lost into him.

your heart fluttered, a familiar feeling that brought you joy.

He pulled away, looking into your eyes in desperation.

“Let’s go back home,” he said.

Home.

Yes, that’s where you longed to be. That’s where you are meant to be. A place where you share a space and affection with Jungwon, Home.

You were too busy to notice it before. You had it there all along. You were never alone. He was there. Every second and step of the journey. He is home.

You nod, a genuine smile plastered across your face. He flashed you a dimpled smile, one you haven’t seen in a while. He grabbed your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. He led the way back to your home, tightly gripped onto your hand.

As if savoring the moment, to make sure it’s real. Scared of letting go, as if you were to disintegrate with the wind. As if he was a threat of losing you any second.

You close the door behind you. When you turn around, Jungwon cups your face again, smashing his lips onto yours. You softly yelp against his lips, startled. You grip onto him tightly, closing your eyes. Despite being outside in the cold, you can’t help but to feel like you’re burning up.

Jungwon picks you up and you immediately wrap your legs around his torso, refusing to break the kiss. He leads you to your room, softly dropping you onto the bed. You both rush off your clothes, desperate and hungry for each other.

He hovers over you, kissing you passionately. Your eyes shuttered clothes, your arms wandering around his bare back and chest.

You needed this, badly. His touch, his warmth, his closeness to you. It had been a long time since you both last were ever this close, let alone this intimate.

“Missed this so much,” he murmured against the kiss, “missed you so much.”

His hand travelled down to your pantie lining, pulling it down slowly by its hem. You let him. His lips trailed down to your neck, sucking softly onto your skin, marking and leaving trails of him on you behind.

He unclasped your bra, sucking in the bud of your breasts. You moaned softly, closing your eyes in pleasure. He sucked onto the soft skin around your breasts, leaving more love bites. He rubs his fingers onto your wet cunt, plastering your wetness around his fingers. He inserts one finger in, slowly and almost punishingly.

“F-Fuck, Jungwon,” you breathed out, gripping onto him.

Then, he inserts another. He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, causing your mouth to fall agape in pleasure. He watched your lewd reactions to him, fascinated by your mesmerizing beauty and pleasure given to you. His dick became hard at the sight of you and the feeling of you clenching around his fingers.

“Yeah? you want me to continue, pretty?” he teased, kissing you sloppily in order to muffle your broken moans.

“Can you take my cock now, baby?” he said, kissing your neck softly.

You nodded, a moan in response, “mhm..”

He took his fingers out, sucking onto them. He took his boxers off, his cock begging to be released from the tightness of it. He aligned himself with your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he breathed out, “so ready for me.”

And with that, he pushed himself into you. He groaned, as you clenched around his cock tightly. You instantly feel full. He starts to move slowly, waiting till you get adjusted to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he gazed down at you under him, so defenseless and in pleasurable daze.

He picked up his pace, his cock glistening from your wetness. You whimpered, gripping onto the bed sheets.

He leaned over you once again, using his arms to prop himself up. He kisses you as he thrusts his hips deep against yours. You struggle to kiss him back, causing a sly smirk on his lips against the kiss. He breaks the kiss, quickening his pace mercilessly. whines and soft groans come from the both of you, in a rhythmic sync, deepening the intimacy shared between each other.

It’s just as you remembered. Connected, interlinked, as if no one has touched you quite the way Jungwon has. No one else compares.

The soft moans of his name drove him crazy. It was like a melody, an addictive tune he could never get tired of. All he wanted was to continue hearing it, pleasuring you. Loving you. Consuming you.

He pounded relentlessly into you, his cock twitching as he approached his orgasm. You gripped onto his back tightly, your nails digging into his skin.

“I love you,” he breathed, “I love you so much.”

Your body arched into him, feeling the tight knot in your stomach threatening to undo.

You wanted to say it back, but your mind was so fucked-out to build coherent words.

Instead, you just held him, tightly. You held his tender gaze, exchanging meaningful messages beyond words.

‘I know. I love you, too.’

His head rested on the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin and hair. The scent of both of your bodies interlinked. The scent of him on you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, crying out in pleasure.

“Yes, oh, just like that,” you whined, “m’cumming.”

Jungwon thrusted his hips harder into you, hitting your spot with no fail. Your eyes shut close, mouth agape, as you reach your orgasm hard.

“Fuck, pretty, cum on my cock,” he grunted, thrusting slowly but hard, riding out your high.

His cock twitched as he released his load into you. Your legs quivered, feeling yourself recover from your hard orgasm. Jungwon kissed your cheek softly before plopping next to you, exhausted. You were both sweaty, tired, and still panting. His bare chest glistened in sweat yet he seems so attractive. You reach out to cup his face, he grabs your hand and plants a tender kiss on your palm. You smile.

“Do you want to take a bath or get some sleep?” he asked, moving away a strand of your hair from your face.

“To be honest, I don’t think I can walk right now,” you laughed.

He chuckles, “I’ll carry you.”

You nod, flashing him a soft smile. He gets up, sweeping you off the bed and into his arms. You hold onto him tightly, as he takes you to the bathroom. He places you gently onto the counter, capturing your lips softly. The kiss is softer this time, tender, and sweet. With a wet sound of the kiss, he breaks away. He turns around to prepare the bath for you. Dipping his hands into the bathtub, he looks over at you.

“It’s ready, pretty,” he said, walking over to you.

You climb off the counter, he holds you for support. You slowly get into the bathtub, Jungwon following. A soft sigh of relief escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm bubbly water. Jungwon holds you from behind, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder. You melt into him, allowing yourself to rest against his chest.

“Better?” he asks, kissing the side of your head.

You smile, “Much better. Thank you.”

The tension in the air had lessened in the days that followed. It was easier to breathe, to speak, and to be in each other’s company. It wasn’t exactly like how it used to be, but it was a step closer to it.

Every step you took seemed to lead you further into the web of lies, but none of the pieces fit. It wasn’t just about your partner’s death anymore. It was about a deeper conspiracy, something that reached far beyond what you had ever imagined.

Jungwon had been quieter, more thoughtful, his sharp eyes noticing things you missed. The two of you had spent hours combing through records, analyzing evidence, and following up on any leads that seemed even remotely promising. But nothing had connected. Nothing made sense.

Not until now.

You sat at the table in the dining room, your mind running through the reports in front of you. The scattered photos of your partner, the witness statements, the security footage that seemed to repeat the same things over and over again—until something caught your eye.

"Wait a second," you muttered, your finger tracing a line on the page. Jungwon, who had been sitting across from you, leaned in, his curiosity piqued.

"What is it?" He asked, a faint edge of urgency in his voice.

You flipped the page to a new report, showing the names of officers involved in the initial investigation. Most of the names were familiar—colleagues you had worked with, trusted for years. But one name stood out to you, circled in red ink by a source you hadn’t recognized.

"This guy," you said, tapping the name with your finger, “Officer Han Joon."

Jungwon frowned, “I don’t know him. Should I?"

"He’s one of the officers who was first on the scene after my partner was killed," you explained, your mind beginning to race, “But what I didn’t realize at the time was that he’s also been involved in a number of other high-profile cases that were later marked as unsolved or closed for ‘lack of evidence.’"

You paused, staring at the report, your pulse quickening.

"It doesn’t make sense. What if the rat is closer than we thought? What if it’s him, ‘someone inside the department,’ just as Hyunjin said?"

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you had said, "If Officer Han’s involved… that means someone in the department’s been helping the mastermind all along. Giving him the inside info, covering his tracks."

The weight of his words hit you hard. The realization that the danger you were facing wasn’t just coming from the outside—it really was also already inside the walls you had trusted.

"We need to get to him," you said, your voice low, determined, “We need to find out what he knows."

Jungwon nodded, standing up. He was already slipping on his jacket, his expression set, “We’ll need to be careful. We don’t know who’s watching us."

You nodded, the familiar chill of danger settling in. But this time, it didn’t feel like something you could run from. You couldn’t back down now—not when you were so close to the truth.

The two of you moved quickly, gathering the evidence you had and heading toward the police precinct where Officer Han worked. The building was busy with activity, the hum of officers and detectives moving between desks and filing cabinets. But despite the seeming normalcy, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. Every time you passed an officer, you felt their gaze linger just a little too long, a little too knowingly. It was almost as if they could tell you were onto something.

You and Jungwon split up, each of you taking different routes to avoid drawing suspicion. You knew Han’s schedule—he usually worked the late shift, spending hours at his desk. You made your way to the back of the department, where the file room was kept, the one that was usually off-limits to anyone except senior officers.

It wasn’t hard to find a way in. You had the right credentials—though they felt fake now, like you were wearing a mask you didn’t quite recognize. You slipped past the guarded door, heading straight for the row of locked cabinets where sensitive files were kept.

Jungwon had already hacked into the system, disabling the security cameras for the moment. You were in, but the clock was ticking. If Han showed up early, you would be trapped, exposed, and most likely caught. But you were running out of time.

You pulled out the files, your heart racing as you rifled through the papers, skimming over each one, looking for any clue that would tie Han Joon to the mastermind. You weren’t sure how long you had before the others would catch on, but you weren’t about to let that stop you. Not when you were so close.

"Found something," Jungwon’s voice echoed through the comms in your ear, and you froze. His tone was low, cautious.

"What is it?" you whispered, still flipping through the papers in front of you.

"Han’s phone records. He’s been in contact with someone outside the city. Someone with a criminal background. They’re scheduled to meet next week, at a warehouse on the outskirts of town."

Your heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was the break you had been waiting for.

"We need to go," you said, quickly grabbing the most relevant files. You didn’t hesitate.

"We’ll confront him. We take him down then, for now we need to make a plan."

As you and Jungwon raced to your car, your mind was already working through the next steps. This was the moment you’d been working toward, but with it came a sense of dread. Officer Han was one piece of the puzzle, alongside with other newly discovered suspects to investigate. But if you were right, it meant the mastermind was still out there, still pulling the strings. And now, you had a target on your back.

"Y/n," Jungwon said as you slid into the passenger’s seat, his voice low but steady, “We don’t know how deep this goes. We’ll need to be careful."

You nodded, bringing your hand to caress his cheek, “Of course.”

Tonight, you weren’t just chasing for the truth. You were fighting for your life. One you have found worth living for: Him.

Once you both returned home, you immediately went into inspecting all the files you took. Jungwon joined, as always, by your side. A few hours later, you had a list of prime suspects to investigate. Exhausted and evidently stressed, you slumped into your chair. You dropped the piles of paperwork onto the table, calling it a night.

Jungwon looked over at your tense expression. He got up from his seat, walking over behind you. He took a look at the paperwork you had. His hands gently massaged your shoulders, causing you to close your eyes in satisfaction.

“You need to relax, pretty,” he said, “you’re so tense.”

You keep your eyes closed, enjoying every bit of the massage. You softly moaned in satisfaction, a signal for him to continue. His mouth curled into a sly smirk. He leaned over to your neck, placing soft kisses from behind. Slow, sensual, deliberate.

“Jungwon,” you breathed out.

“yes, baby?” he whispered, walking over to lift you onto the table.

You open your eyes, startled. Before you can question him, he positions himself between your legs, his hands resting onto your waist. He kisses you, gently. You kiss him back, lazily, your exhaustion getting the best of you.

“Let me take care of you,” he offered, “just relax, okay?”

You don’t protest, instead you just nod. His hands pull onto the hem of your pants, pulling them off. He plays with the hem of your panties, before taking those off, too.

Too sleepy and in daze, you didn’t realize what was happening till your panties were on the floor. Your eyes widen slightly in realization. But it was already too late.

“Jungwon, wait—”

He takes a few long, slow, wet licks onto your cunt. You bit back a moan, gripping onto the table. He pushed open your legs apart, opening you up on display on the dining table like a meal. Then, he enfolds your cunt into his mouth. You moan, gripping onto his hair. Wet slurping sounds and the sound of your whines fill the room.

“ngh…jungwon,” you moaned.

He looked up at you, meeting your sultry expression. He swears he could cum at the sight of you like this. His tongue sloppily glides onto your cunt, sucking and flicking your bean. Your legs tremble, your breath is rigid.

“Feels so good,” you whimpered.

Jungwon stuffed his face deeper, savoring and devouring all your juices like a starved man. He needed more of you. All of you.

He pushed you onto your back, forcing you to lay on top of all the paperwork. Now propped open on the dining table, Jungwon ate you out passionately.

Your legs shifted uncontrollably, your hands laced within his hair. Insistent moans slipped from your mouth, instinctively pushing his head further into your cunt.

Jungwon wrapped his arms around your thighs, deepening his tongue into your cunt. Wetness dripped from his chin from his sloppy mess on your cunt.

“I’m—ngh,” you fisted his hair, pushing him closer as you approached your orgasm.

Your back arched into him, no longer caring a bit about the time you spent organizing the paperwork on the table.

And then, finally, with a loud gasp the knot in your stomach came undone. Your breathing was rigid, your body trembling from the ecstasy.

Jungwon smirked, wiping away the wetness from his chin.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” he whispered, grabbing you from the table and tossing you over his shoulder.

You yelped in surprise, holding onto him. He gently dropped you onto the bed sheets, in which he tucked you into. It wasn’t long before he got under the covers, enfolding you into his arms. You melted in his arms, the rhythm of his heartbeat bringing a sense of calming to you. You inhaled his scent, as if memorizing it by heart. You both drifted off to sleep, entangled into each other’s arms. And even during the night, when you would quietly jerk awake from nightmares, you couldn’t help but to think.

‘I don’t want this to end,’ you thought.

‘I want to be selfish. I want to pursue this stupid dream with just the both of us.’

You could feel it in your bones, with every breath you took: the guilt. Could it really work out?

Could you really be happy, be selfish for once and have it all?

The past still crept up on you, even when you told yourself it was time to let go. Jungwon had started to repair your broken heart, putting back the pieces. Slowly, but surely.

You wanted to be selfish. You wanted to let your guard down. You deserved it.

But despite it all; it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down.

it started with a lie.

Or maybe it started long before that—with the wounds they never let heal, with the trust you both never fully rebuilt. Either way, by the time you found out, it was already too late.

You stormed into your apartment, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the walls. Jungwon barely had time to react before you threw a crumpled piece of paper onto the table between you both.

"What the hell is this?" you demanded.

Jungwon frowned, picking it up. His chest tightened the second he saw what it was—a file, fresh off the precinct database, detailing an anonymous payment wired to a key witness in their case. One that was meant to be there at the meeting spot you figured out. But, now that Jungwon approached him, the key witness must’ve snitched on you and fled with the money by now. It was a dumb mistake: a fatal one.

Blood drained from his face.

You saw it.

"You bribed him?" you spat, your voice laced with disbelief and something far painful, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Jungwon exhaled, running a hand through his hair, "It wasn’t a bribe, y/n. You needed answers, and you were slowly becoming miserable without them. I couldn’t see you like that. And he wasn’t going to talk unless he had a reason to."

"So you threw money at him?" You let out a humorless laugh, "Great. That’s real reliable evidence."

‘Just an arrogant rich boy,’ you thought. You hated the selfish actions of him, which he carelessly does because he knows he can do them. With no worry, no thought. Because he has people to protect him, money to support him, and higher-ups to keep him out of trouble. You hated how low he stooped.

Doesn’t that make him equal to who you’re going after?

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, “I did what I had to do."

"No," you shot back, stepping closer, your eyes burning with rage, "You did what you wanted to do, without telling me. Without even thinking about the consequences."

Jungwon’s patience snapped, “And what the hell have you been doing, y/n? Losing yourself over this?You put a gun to my fucking head to force me into this shit, but now you’re acting like you’re the only one allowed to make choices?"

Your eyes narrowed at him, "I didn’t blackmail you for fun, Jungwon. I needed help—I needed someone I could trust."

Your voice broke slightly on the last word.

And that was what did it.

Because you had trusted him. And now, here you both were, in the same cycle of betrayal, the same aching disappointment.

Jungwon felt his pulse hammering in his skull. He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell you that it hadn’t been about secrecy, or control, or hurting you. He just wanted to end this war before it destroyed you both. But most importantly, you.

It’s always been about you.

But instead, the words that left his mouth were the wrong ones.

"Maybe I never should have come back."

And just like that, whatever fragile thread had been holding you both together—snapped.

Silence crashed over the room like a violent wave, drowning everything in it.

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. For a second, just a split second, he saw something in your eyes—something that almost looked like hurt. But then it was gone, replaced by cold, hard indifference.

You let out a short, humorless laugh, “Then go."

Jungwon clenched his jaw, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply. He hadn’t meant it. Not like that. But the damage was already done, and you…

you weren’t the type to let a wound fester without striking back.

"You know what’s funny?" you said, stepping closer, her voice smooth, lethal.

“I used to think i needed you,” you said.

Jungwon’s heart slammed against his ribs.

"Y/n—"

"I thought that maybe—just maybe—you could make up for the way you left, for the way you let me fall apart alone,” your lips curled into something cold, something sharp, “But I should’ve known better. You were always good at running, weren’t you?"

His fists tightened, “You think I wanted to leave you?!" His voice came out raw, splintered.

“you think it was easy for me?” he stated.

"I don’t give a damn if it was easy," you snapped, "You still did it."

Jungwon let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head, "And you haven’t forgiven me since."

"Why should I?" you shot back, eyes burning with something dangerously close to fury, "You don’t deserve my forgiveness, Jungwon."

His breath caught.

And then, softer—deadlier— "You never did."

He didn’t know why it hurt so much. Maybe because deep down, he had been clinging to the idea that if he fought hard enough, you would let him back in. That if he proved himself, if he stayed this time, you would finally let yourself forgive him.

But maybe that had never been an option.

Maybe, he had been chasing your ghost this entire time.

Maybe, he had been a fool to think he still had a chance.

Jungwon exhaled slowly, his expression hardening,

"Then maybe I should stop trying."

Something flickered in your gaze, but before he could figure out what it was, he turned away, walking toward the door.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t look back.

Your hands instinctively reached out for him, yet no words could come out of your mouth. Your hand fell back to your side at the sound of the front door slam. A unspoken sign of goodbye. And before you knew it, tears spilled from your eyes. It was a piercing feeling, a suffocating one. And before you knew it, you were sobbing on the living room floor. Where he had left you.

And for the first time since he came back into your life, You finally let yourself wonder—

Maybe you really had lost him for good.

He didn’t show up at your house anymore. The house was void, uncomfortably silent, and suffocating. The bedroom in which you would once walk in to find him already sprawled onto your bed, was empty. Intact, just as you left it. The bedroom was tidy, just as you had done it in the morning—a painful reminder that he was no longer here.

Only the smell of him lingered in the air. Along with his soothing voice, the one that hummed you to sleep when you were tormented at night.

But things didn’t stop there.

After many days had passed and the day of the secret meeting approached, you wondered if Jungwon would come find you at all. To accompany you, like he always would. You quickly resigned the idea, forcing yourself to grasp that he’s gone. Permanently.

But as you made your way out of your bedroom, you heard the sound of the front door open.

And then, somehow, it started all over again.

"…You’re not even thinking straight!" Jungwon’s voice echoed through the living room, raw with frustration.

“You’re so desperate to chase ghosts, you don’t even care if it gets you killed!" He continued.

You slammed the case file onto the table, papers scattering across the surface, “Don’t act like you give a shit, Jungwon. You didn’t care when you walked away the first time, so don’t pretend now."

His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, "You think I didn’t care? You think leaving didn’t fucking kill me?"

"You still did it.”

The words cut deep, sharper than any knife, and you saw the way they hit him—the way they hurt. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. The anger was still fresh, the resentment of his betrayal.

"You had a choice, Jungwon," you continued, voice laced with anger and something dangerously close to heartbreak, "And you chose to walk away. So don’t stand here and act like you have a right to tell me what to do now."

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, “y/n, I didn’t—" He stopped, shaking his head, as if even he didn’t know how to explain himself.

“You wanted me to stay, but for what? To watch you destroy yourself over something you couldn’t fix?"

"It wasn’t your decision to make,” you retaliated.

Jungwon let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer—too close, “And this?"

His voice dropped lower, "Dragging me back into your war? This was my decision to make?"

You felt the heat between them, thick and suffocating.

"You owe me," you said, your voice dangerously sharp, laced with pain and rage.

Jungwon’s eyes darkened, “I owe you?"

You lifted your chin, refusing to back down, "You let me believe I was alone. You gave me over, locked me up in your basement! You lied to me! You left me with nothing but questions, and now that I have the answers, you want me to stop? You want me to just let it go?"

He was so close now, close enough that you could see the way his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, “I want you to stop throwing yourself into the fire like you have nothing left to lose."

"I don’t."

Silence.

Something shifted in his expression—something dangerous, something almost desperate.

"That’s bullshit,” he narrowed his eyes at you, “and you know it.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to let the weight of his words settle, “You don’t know me anymore, Jungwon."

His gaze dropped to your lips for just a second, before flicking back up to your eyes, "Yeah?"

“Then why do you still look at me like you wish I never left?"

your breath hitched.

Because he was right.

And that was the worst part of all.

You stared at him in silence, in disbelief. The tears rushing into your eyes like a hit of a merciless wave. You hold back a sob from your mouth with your trembling hands, forcing yourself to look away.

Standing only a few steps away, Jungwon instinctively reaches out for you.

His fingertips burn on your skin. You move, facing him once more with rage.

“Go right now!” you shouted, pushing him away, “go now!”

“Go!” You broke out into another painful sob, your harsh words now sounding like a desperate plea, a broken, pained one.

You didn’t know what else to do, grief crashing down on you at once.

You didn’t want to hurt him; You were terrified of what would happen if he was to stay around. In your own way, you wanted to protect him from you. Despite it all.

He could see it.

He shook his head, reaching out for you once again.

You rejected him. You pushed his hands away.

He tried again, taking a grip onto your arms, “Y/n, listen to me, baby…”

“No!” you moved frantically, trying to get out of his grip, “No! Let go of me!”

You hit him repeatedly in his chest, hot tears streaming down your distressed face.

He took every hit, gazing at you with such tenderness.

It broke you even more.

Your blows decreased. They became weaker and your voice trembled, “please…go home, Jungwon.”

Finally still, Jungwon pulled you into a warm and tight embrace.

You didn’t fight it this time. Maybe because you didn’t have the strength, or maybe simply because you wanted this. You needed it.

“I’m already where i’m supposed to be, y/n.”

You sobbed gently against his chest, melting into his arms. You gripped desperately onto him, every sensorial part of you obsessed with him. He caressed your head soothingly.

“I didn’t mean what i said the last time. I’m so sorry, I know it’s my fault. I don’t deserve you, nor your trust or your love. I know that,” he explained, “but i choose to continue trying. Even if you push me away. Hit me, curse at me, fuck—tell me you hate me. Anything. Just as long as it gives me your forgiveness.”

He brought his hands to cup your face, bringing your softened face towards his.

“And you know why?” he looked into your eyes, “because I love you, y/n.”

Your eyes flickered. He slowly lowers himself before you, his hands holding yours, getting on his knees.

“I truly don’t think I can be without you, y/n. I love you so much it hurts. So please…please, baby…if you can find it in you to love me one more time, i’ll spend the rest of my life in proving it to you. Just one,” he begged, “please love me one more time.”

And even though he tried to stabilize himself, you could hear the small tremble in his voice and the glistening in his eyes.

He so desperately wanted it to be you.

You stood there, lost at words. Many thoughts rushing through your mind. You weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t want to think.

“Okay…” you breathed out.

His face softened immediately, his shoulders relaxing. He kissed your hand, standing up once again. He cups your cheek, bringing you into a soft kiss. He left soft pepper kisses around your face, whispering ‘I love you’s in between.

“You don’t have to say it now,” he said, “this is enough for me.”

And then, he reconnected your lips tenderly. Your eyes flickered close, gripping onto his arms. He cocked your head back slightly, deepening the kiss. Close wasn’t close enough for him.

“Should we…go to my room?” you said, quietly.

He flashed you a dimpled smile, “Is that what you want? Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

you cut him off with a kiss. He took the message, scooping you up in his arms. He led the way into the bedroom, sitting onto it with you on top of his lap.

And before you knew it, you were holding onto him, taking every single inch of him. He sat against the headboard of your bed, while you bounced on his cock. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his face snuggled into the crook of your neck. He left bite marks, kisses, and love bites all over your skin. Worshiping every part of you, honored to breathe the same air you breathe, let alone to have the privilege to touch you. He whispered a few affectionate words into your ear, gripping onto your ass to slam it back down on his cock. He guided your hips, rocking you. A few whines and groans left his mouth, thrusting further into your tight cunt.

you moaned, making a mess of his hair as you fisted it.

There weren’t many words exchanged, letting your body and small whispers exchange the message. You could feel it in every touch, every kiss, every gaze—the love he had for you.

Your body’s felt interlinked, your heart fulfilled with every inhale you took of his bare skin.

You took time to take in his touch, the way his warm, big, arms wrapped around you perfectly. In a protective stance, assertive, yet so tender.

It was a form of ecstasy only he could bring you.

Body and soul.

And it didn’t stop there. Jungwon took you the entire day, round after round without much of a break. He was a madman, deeply entranced and bewitched by his love for you. He wanted you, every part of you, he wanted to satisfy you. And he did his part, too well. He knew that.

He pleasured you all day, overstimulating you in the best way, till tears formed into your eyes and your eyes rolled back. Orgasm after orgasm.

By the time you both were done, you both laid entangled in each others arms. His chin rested on top of your head, while you laid against his chest. The sound of his breathing, soothing you. You woke up in the middle of the night, realizing your position. You stared at him, watching the way his chest rose and went down. His handsome face, his pretty features, every curve on his face.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were far too in love with him than you let yourself think.

You smiled, planting a very gently and soft kiss onto his lips. He softly stirred, instinctively pulling you closer. You let him, closing your eyes to fall asleep once again.

And finally, the day had came in a blink of an eye.

The night air was thick with tension, the city lights fading behind you as you and Jungwon sped toward the warehouse on the outskirts of town. The roads were mostly empty, except for a few passing cars, but every shadow felt like a threat.

His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white as he saw the way you fought the unease creeping up your spine. You had spent years working inside the system, believing in the justice you served. But now, that same system had betrayed you. Someone on the inside had been feeding information to the mastermind all along. And if Han Joon was the rat, then confronting him wasn’t just about exposing the truth—it was about survival.

"If this goes sideways," he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm, "you get out. You understand?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, you shot him a glare, “What are you talking about? Not happening."

"Y/n—"

"Don’t start," you cut him off, "We’re in this together. I’m not leaving without you. You don’t get to make that call."

Jungwon exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further. He knew you too well. Knew that you weren’t the type to run.

As the warehouse came into view, he slowed the car, pulling into the shadows of an abandoned loading dock across the street. The building itself was old, its metal siding rusted and covered in graffiti. A single dim light flickered above the entrance, casting eerie shadows against the walls.

You scanned the perimeter. No guards. No backup. That was suspicious in itself.

"Too quiet," Jungwon murmured, voicing your exact thoughts.

"Han wouldn’t come here alone," you said, reaching for your gun, “He’s either already inside, or we’re walking into a setup."

Jungwon reached into his jacket, checking his own weapon, “Then let’s make sure we’re not the ones getting trapped."

He leaned over to the passengers seat to place a soft kiss onto your lips before getting out the car. You froze, blankly, before a small smile crept onto your face.

You moved together, keeping low as you approached the side entrance. The door was slightly ajar, a dark gap in the metal frame.

You glanced at Jungwon. He nodded once.

With careful steps, you pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. The warehouse was dark, save for a few overhead lights illuminating the main floor. Rows of crates and shipping containers lined the space, providing plenty of places to hide. The air smelled of dust and old metal, the silence heavy, almost suffocating.

Then, the sound of footsteps.

You pressed yourself against a metal beam, your breath steady as you peeked around the corner. Han Joon stood near the center of the warehouse, his back turned to you. He was talking to someone on his phone, his voice low but urgent.

"No, listen—this isn’t what we agreed on."

A pause.

"I told you I’d handle it. But if we move too soon, they’ll figure it out."

Another pause.

"Yes. I know. I’ll take care of it."

He hung up, shoving his phone into his pocket. His posture was tense, his fingers twitching like a man in over his head.

You exchanged a glance with Jungwon. This was it.

Gun raised, you stepped out from the shadows. "Put your hands where I can see them, Han."

He stiffened at the sound of your voice but didn’t turn immediately. Instead, he let out a slow, almost resigned sigh, “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that."

Jungwon moved beside you, his own gun trained on Han, “Who were you talking to?"

Han finally turned, his face unreadable, “Does it matter? You’re already too late."

A chill ran down your spine.

"Too late for what?" you demanded.

Han’s lips curled into a humorless smirk, “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about your partner. It never was. You think you’re solving one case, but you’re playing in a much bigger game. And the people pulling the strings?" He let out a low chuckle.

"They don’t lose,” Before you could react, Han moved.

His hand shot toward his waist, reaching for a weapon. Instinct took over—you fired.

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse as Han staggered backward, clutching his shoulder. He gritted his teeth in pain, but even then, there was something almost smug in his expression.

"You think this ends with me?" he panted, blood seeping through his fingers. "You’re chasing ghosts, y/n. And you have no idea who you’re really up against."

A sick feeling twisted in your stomach.

Jungwon stepped forward, grabbing Han by the collar and slamming him against the nearest crate, "Start talking. Now."

Han let out a low, pained laugh, “I’d love to, really. But I don’t think my boss would like that very much."

Then, the sound of a phone vibrating.

Han’s eyes flickered downward, and you followed his gaze—to his jacket pocket.

Jungwon yanked the phone out, glancing at the screen. An unknown number.

Your heart pounded. Whoever was calling, they were watching.

Jungwon answered without hesitation, “Who is this?"

Silence.

Then, a voice distorted by a voice modulator.

"You should have stayed out of this, detective."

The line went dead.

And then, the warehouse lights cut out.

Everything plunged into darkness.

Then—footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

"It’s a setup!" Jungwon shouted.

Gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks splitting through the silence. You barely had time to duck behind the crates before bullets ricocheted off the metal walls. Han slumped to the floor, his wound making him an easy target.

Shadows moved in the darkness. More than one. More than two.

You and Jungwon were outnumbered.

And the real mastermind was still out there, watching. Waiting. Smiling in the dark.

"They knew we were coming," you whispered, pressing your back against the crate.

Jungwon exhaled sharply, “Of course they did. Han was stalling—he led us right into this trap."

Han’s barely conscious body laid on the floor. He wasn’t your priority anymore. The real threat was closing in.

Another round of bullets tore through the air, forcing you and Jungwon to shift positions. You caught a brief silhouette moving in the distance—at least four shooters, maybe more. Well-trained. Tactical.

"We need to move," Jungwon muttered, “Sitting here makes us easy targets."

You nodded. There was no choice. You counted down in your head—three, two, one—then broke into a sprint, dodging between crates as more bullets chased your shadow. Jungwon was right behind you, firing precise shots that forced the gunmen into momentary cover.

As you weaved through the maze of containers, you spotted something—a narrow metal staircase leading up to a catwalk. Higher ground. An advantage.

"Up there!" you called out, and Jungwon followed your gaze.

You darted toward the staircase, your heart pounding, adrenaline surging through your veins. Gunfire rang out again, a bullet grazing your arm, but you bit down the pain and kept moving. Jungwon returned fire, covering you as you scrambled up the stairs.

From the catwalk, you finally got a better view of your attackers. Four men, all dressed in black, all moving in coordinated patterns. But then your stomach twisted.

One of them wasn’t just a man.

It was an officer.

Your blood ran cold.

"Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth, your voice barely above a whisper, “They’re not just hired guns. They’re cops."

Jungwon’s expression darkened, “That explains why we’ve been one step behind this whole time."

Your worst fears had been confirmed. The mastermind wasn’t just using a single rat inside the department—he had an entire network. People who had sworn the same oath you had. People willing to kill to protect their secret.

You took a slow breath, leveling your gun, “If the department’s compromised, we can’t trust anyone."

Jungwon nodded, his gaze sharp, “Then we take them out ourselves."

He moved first, a single shot taking out the closest shooter below. The man dropped before he could react. That left three.

You spotted the officer—the traitor—and aimed. But before you could fire, he shouted something into his radio.

"They’re here! Move now!"

Your gut twisted.

Move now?

Something was wrong.

Then, in the distance, you heard it—sirens.

Jungwon cursed, “They’re bringing reinforcements."

Your mind raced. If backup arrived, they wouldn’t be there to help you. They’d be here to clean up the mess—to silence you permanently.

"We have to get to Han," you said.

Jungwon glanced at you like you were insane, “Han? He’s dead weight. We need to get out of—”

"No," you cut in, "he knows something. And if we let them take him, we lose our last chance to expose them."

Jungwon hesitated—but then nodded. He trusted you.

With no time to waste, the two of you leaped down from the catwalk, landing hard on the concrete floor below. The remaining gunmen fired, but you ducked and rolled behind a metal crate. Jungwon grabbed Han, who was barely conscious, dragging him up.

The warehouse doors burst open, more figures flooding in. Too many.

You looked at Jungwon, He looked at you.

No words were needed.

This was it. It was all or nothing.

You took a breath, steadied your gun, and charged straight into the fire.

The warehouse was collapsing into chaos. Sirens wailed in the distance, gunfire echoed through the massive steel structure, and the acrid scent of smoke and blood filled the air. You and Jungwon moved as one, dodging bullets, returning fire, pushing forward through the swarm of corrupt officers determined to silence you.

Han Joon was slumped between you, barely able to stand as Jungwon dragged him along. He was your key—your last chance to expose the mastermind behind everything. But getting out alive was another story.

The loading dock was ahead, a massive set of double doors that led outside. Your car was parked just beyond them, a possible escape—if you could make it there.

"We need cover!" Jungwon shouted as more bullets rained down from the catwalk above.

You spotted a forklift and an overturned stack of crates, “There!"

Together, you moved swiftly, taking down one of the gunmen in your path. Blood splattered across the concrete as he crumpled. You had no time to hesitate. Every shot you fired, every step you took, was life or death.

Then, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Drop your weapons."

Everything stopped.

From the shadows, a man emerged. Dressed in a sleek black suit, calm despite the bloodbath surrounding him. His dark eyes met yours, and the moment they did, your breath caught.

Commissioner Park.

Your superior. Your mentor. The man who trained and watched you and Hyunjin grow into the detectives you once were.

The mastermind.

Your grip on your gun tightened, rage curling in your stomach, “It was you."

Park smiled, "It had to be me."

Jungwon stepped forward, his gun raised, “You killed Hana’s partner. You framed Kang. You let innocent people die just to keep your operation alive."

Park tilted his head, as if amused, “And yet, here we are. With you making the same mistake he did—getting too close to the truth."

At his signal, more officers surrounded you, guns drawn. You and Jungwon were outnumbered, outgunned. Even if you fought, it would be a massacre.

Han Joon coughed weakly, lifting his head, “You… bastard…" he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Park barely acknowledged him. Instead, he sighed. "I told you before, y/n. There are forces bigger than you at play. This city? It belongs to us. And you…?" His expression darkened, “You should’ve learned to stay in line."

Your mind raced. If you were arrested, you'd never see a courtroom. They’d kill you before you even had the chance to testify.

Jungwon must have realized the same thing. His grip on his gun shifted slightly, his muscles tensing. Ready to fight. He instinctively stepped in front of you, protectively.

And that’s when you saw it—Han Joon’s fingers twitching, slowly reaching into his jacket.

A grenade.

Your eyes widened, “Han, don’t—"

But it was too late.

With the last of his strength, Han pulled the pin.

"Run!"

The explosion was deafening. The shockwave sent you flying backward, crashing against a stack of metal pipes. The entire warehouse trembled as flames erupted from the blast site, smoke billowing into the air.

Dazed, ears ringing, you forced yourself to move. Jungwon was already pulling you to your feet, his face streaked with soot and blood. He cupped your face, worriedly. Although it was muffled, you could hear him ask, “are you okay?”

you nodded, signaling to move quick.

Park was still alive, thrown back by the explosion but struggling to stand. His men were scattered, some dead, others too disoriented to react.

This was your chance.

You staggered forward, gun in hand, leveling it at Park’s chest. His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, you saw something in them—fear.

"This is for my partner."

You pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out. Park staggered, a red bloom spreading across his suit. His body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

It was over.

Jungwon grabbed your hand, tugging you toward the exit. "Come on, before the whole damn building collapses!"

With smoke filling your lungs and fire raging behind you, the two of you ran.

Justice had been served, But at what cost?

The morning air was crisp, a stark contrast to the chaos of that night. It had been a few days since then. You stood on the rooftop of the precinct, watching as the city slowly came to life beneath you.

Park’s corruption had been exposed. Every officer on his payroll was being investigated, and arrests were happening by the hour. The department was in shambles, but for the first time in a long time, it felt like real change was coming.

But the victory felt… hollow. Though it brought you peace, it wouldn’t bring back Hyunjin.

You watched Jungwon get out the car from your view, making his way to your apartment. He looked up, catching you looking at him. He smiled, waving at you enthusiastically. You smiled back, signaling him to quickly come up. He had a cake box in his hand, your favorite cake to celebrate for the victory.

Then, your eyes flickered over to the loud motorcycle speeding down the road.

Your smile faded. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

As if time was moving slowly, the motorcyclist took out a gun from their pocket, pointing it at Jungwon.

You looked over at Jungwon, “Jungwon, watch out!”

Jungwon followed your gaze, confused, but it was too late.

Then, you heard the gun fire. You screamed, instinctively reaching out for him as if you could safe him.

Your eyes widen, your body trembling and going cold.

Jungwon stumbled to the ground, the motorcyclist rushing off but crashing into a large truck. The force impact causing him to fall off his bike, taking hard blows. He fell unconscious.

You ran out of your apartment, tears falling out of your eyes. You took the emergency stairs, impatient to get down there. You were bare foot, still in your home clothes—nothing could prepare you for this.

By the time you made it out, people gathered around, watching. You dropped beside Jungwon, reaching out to him. You hands trembled terribly, hovered over him. Unsure of what to do, still in shock. You sobbed, holding onto his face.

“Oh my God,” you choked out, “please. Please hold on a little longer—jesus, someone call the police please!”

you sobbed frantically, looking around to the others for help. You placed your hands over his bloody wound on his lower stomach, your hands coated in his blood. As if you could stop it from flowing, but it was no use. He looked at you, trying to maintain a reassured expression. He cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Y/n—”

“No,” you cut him off, “don’t talk. Don’t use your energy. Everything is going to be okay, just wait till later—”

“Y/n, listen to me,” he continued, “I need you to promise me something.”

You shook your head, broken sobs escaping your lips, “No…no! for what? You’re going to be okay, I promise…”

He wiped away your tears with his thumb, his complexion looking worser by the second.

“Why aren’t they here yet,” You shouted, frustrated and desperate.

“Promise me,” his soft gaze lingered on you, “that you’ll live in peace now. That you won’t stress yourself out for things out of your control.”

You watched him, words becoming futile devices. You nodded, your breath rigid from the sobs. Your hands were dripping in his blood, his face flinched in pain.

“Please, hold on a little longer,” you sobbed quietly, caressing his head and cheek in desperation.

As if to memorize his face. His touch. His warmth. Of what was left of him, at least.

He tried to laugh but choked on it, grimacing. "Guess I’m not as invincible as I thought."

You pressed down on the wound, your heart hammering, “Stay with me. You hear me? You’re not going anywhere. You can’t leave me. You owe me, don’t forget that!”

His eyelids fluttered, his breathing ragged, “You’re bossy, you know that?"

"Shut up,” your voice trembled.

The sirens were distant, help on the way, but time felt slow. Too slow. You couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not after everything.

His fingers found yours, weak but firm, “I worry I may not have told you this as much as I wished to, I love you, y/n."

"Don’t say that,” Your voice broke.

“Promise me one more thing,” he brought his bloody hand to your cheek.

“w-what?”

“In some universe, if by some miracle we cross paths, fall in love with me,” his loving gaze softened, “but If one day you find yourself in the position to love someone again after i’m gone, allow yourself.”

Jungwon smiled faintly, but his grip was slipping.

Then, in the distance, the sirens grew louder. Help was coming.

You didn’t know if it would be enough. A few sobs escaped your lips at his words.

“No—”

“Yes. Promise me,” he replied.

“No!” you shouted, “If this is about my happiness, take it, I don’t want it without you!”

His eye lids grew heavy, he coughed a few times.

“Please, promise me…” a tear slipped from the corner of his eyes.

You felt sick to your stomach. You swallowed down, hard. You nodded.

“I promise,” you cried, “but that won’t need to happen. Because you’ll be okay, just hold on a bit more, help is on the way.”

Your attention was caught by the ambulances turning the corner. You felt hope. But as you turned to face Jungwon, you felt his hand slip down your face. His blood smudging against your cheek.

Your blood went cold.

His eyes were flickering close, his chest not rising fully.

You jerked forward, tapping his face.

“Jungwon, no, no, listen to me,” you said, “do you hear me?”

It hit you again, a wave of tears. Worse than what it was before. You held him in your arms.

“I love you,” you whispered, “did you hear me? I’m ready. I love you, Jungwon. So much.”

You sobbed loudly, your piercing screams for help breaking through the cold air. You planted soft kisses onto his lips.

“I love you. Did you hear? I said I love you!” you laid your forehead against his, “Please. Wake up. I forgive you, okay? You can’t leave me. You said you’d never leave…”

The ambulance responders rushed out the vehicle, checking him. The time felt like it went slow, everything sounded muffled, watching them take him from your arms. You watched as his hands separated from yours, dropping to his side. A harsh reminder that this was real, along with other things.

That he never got to hear you tell him you loved him.

And that he’ll never know you forgave him.

You sat there, watching as they took him from you. His blood all over you, becoming cold. You stared off into the air, the shock crashing down on you. As memories of him flashed through your mind, the many things you still had to say, the things there was still left to do.

You were left with a bitter taste in your mouth, and the pain of losing him forever.

to be continued…

[venusdews]

revolving door

xavier [沈星回] + female reader

synopsis. you can't seem to let xavier go, but neither can he.

genre & contents. 18+! MDNI! guitarist!xavier, smut, angsttt (more than i intended...), toxic established relationship, xavier is in a band and he's also your ex, oral sex (receiving), overstimulation, mentions of blood/guns, manipulation... wc; 3.8k+

author's note. am i bitter about not getting lumiere? no... of course not... it only pushed me to finish this that's all... enjoy <3

The sun is warm on your skin.

Through the half open curtain, the rays peek through gently. The first hints of dawn enveloping you into a warm and gentle caress. You sigh contently, arms coming above your head as you stretch.

You almost forget whose bed you're in.

You still, eyes widening as the memories of the night before slowly come back to mind. A mixture of too-sweet cocktails, longing gazes, and the familiar scent of a certain cologne.

You hadn’t been expecting to see your ex-boyfriend last night. Neither had you expected to end up in his bed again, not after the way things had ended just two months ago.

Although you tried convincing yourself otherwise, you missed him. You had gotten good at pretending, but this week had been particularly rough. You needed a night out badly.

It left you vulnerable. Or, at least that was the excuse you’d use this time.

Xavier brought your walls down at the snap of his fingers.

One glance at him through the Friday night crowd was enough to push you towards him. After the tequila shots had made their way through your bloodstream, it was oh, so easy to slip back into his arms. You try to blame it on alcohol flowing through your veins. 

There was no excuse, you knew that. Even so, you needed to find a way to justify the way your body leaned into him once he placed his hands on your waist. 

The way your heart raced with every pulse of the music. The way you let him take you away once his eyes twinkled with desire under the strobing lights. They were all telltale signs of your persistent feelings for him.

Maybe it was futile to fight against fate. No matter how hard you tried to stay away, no matter how much time you spent away, you always found yourself back here. With him.

Slowly turning your head, your eyes lock onto Xavier’s sleeping face.

“Fuuuuck,” you whisper softly.

Your eyes trail to his exposed torso, littered with black ink. You find yourself analyzing every stroke, every shade that expands throughout his chest, down his biceps to his slender fingers. As you look at his face once again, you notice the pink and purple hues on his neck. The way he managed to look so enticing like this almost made you roll your eyes.

Oh, you needed to leave, like, now.

Slowly pulling the covers off of your body, you look down only to realize you were completely naked. Stifling a groan, your eyes dart around the room, finding your clothes scattered. You lift yourself off the bed, stumbling as a soreness shoots up your legs. 

You tiptoe around his room, attempting to move as quietly as possible. Though you knew Xavier could sleep through anything, you didn’t want to take that risk, especially right now. You find your dress first, slipping it over your head. As you smooth it over your body, you look in the mirror, catching sight of the huge tear on the side. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” it comes out louder than you meant, and you hear Xavier shifting on the bed. He turns, brows furrowed and arms searching where you used to lay. You still, eyeing him for any sign of life. 

He doesn’t wake.

Your fingers trace the frayed seams, a pout finding its way to your face. This was your favorite dress. You sigh, looking around for your panties that somehow ended up on the lampshade in the corner. You snatch them, quickly slipping them on and clutching your heels to your chest.

Fuck, you didn’t bring a sweater.

You eye yourself in the mirror, scowling at your disheveled appearance, before deciding to grab a jacket from his closet. 

What he doesn’t know won’t kill him right?

Besides, it was the least he could do.

You slip out of his room, releasing your breath as soon as your hand wraps around the doorknob of his front door. You should be ashamed at how easy it was to navigate through his apartment, as if it was your own. Well, at one point, it was. 

You turn the knob, so close to freedom—

“Leaving without saying goodbye?”

You jump, whipping your head around to see Xavier standing behind you. His voice is low, laced with sleep, and you can’t help the way your eyes fall to his exposed torso. Of course, he notices, if his upturned lips are anything to go by.

“I have work to do,” you say quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice the way you lie through your teeth. Truthfully, you don’t even know why you felt the need to.

He crosses his arms, as if he wants you to check out his deliciously ripe biceps. “On a Saturday?”

You roll your eyes, huffing and mimicking his stance. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Besides, you know last night… shouldn’t have happened.”

He tilts his head. You want to throw your shoe at his head to get him to stop looking at you with those confused doe eyes. 

“Why not?” he asks, as if he really didn’t know.

It was not long ago that you swore you’d never find yourself in front of him again. You went no contact for a reason, knowing that if he had the chance to talk to you again you’d end up right back here.

But, staring at him now, the yearning in his eyes, you remember the way he had touched you last night. The things he did, you wondered if he meant for them to happen. If he really missed you as much as you missed him.

And, suddenly, you can’t seem to recall why you had ended things.

It was easy, too easy, to want to slip back in bed and let him wrap his arms around you. Like he always did after a night filled with rough kisses and lingering marks. You swallow at the thought of how he used to gently kiss them over the morning after. 

It had been too long since you last felt cared for like that. Since you last felt his care.

“You know why, Xavier.” You punctuate his name, hoping that it will serve as a way to remind you of where you stand with him.

He rubs his neck, as if he’s embarrassed. You must be seeing things now. Xavier? He’s never one to get embarrassed. Before you can say anything else, he’s walking over to the kitchen. 

“At least stay for breakfast,” he starts pulling out a pan and looking at his fridge. “I’ll make us something.”

“I doubt that’s gonna be edible.” you counter, silently cursing at your heart when it flutters at his smile. You were walking on a tightrope here.

“Actually,” he sings, pulling out enough ingredients to make a… nutritious breakfast? It almost makes your mouth drop in shock. The Xavier you knew never had anything but expired jam and stale bread in his kitchen. “I’ve been practicing my cooking. I think I deserve a redo.”

You weren’t sure how this made you feel. Though, your rushing heartbeat was saying enough.

“A redo from the time you almost burned down my apartment?” you unconsciously smile at the memory. And, as much as you don’t want to, you find yourself inching closer to him.

You watch as he clumsily cracks eggs over the pan. It was so… domestic. Too reminiscent of mornings spent together, when you did the cooking while he leaned on your shoulder, peppering kisses on your—

This was dangerous.

“Xavier,” you say, willing away any trace of a smile left on your face. His gaze finds yours, and you almost crumble completely at the way his face falls. “I… really do need to go.”

“Oh,” he clears his throat, setting down the spatula in his hand. “Alright.”

You’re turning on your feet before he can say anything else, afraid of what it might make you do. You should feel strong, walking out of your ex-boyfriend’s apartment without letting him get under your skin. But, you can’t get his stupid pout out of your head.

This time he lets you slip through the door. Slipping your heels on outside of his door, you waste no time in getting out of the building, uncaring of the strange looks thrown your way as you walk to your place.

Head now pulsing, you feel disoriented. It’s like you got the wind knocked out of you. You’re unsure if it's the incoming hangover or the feelings that Xavier left you with. How did he feel so familiar yet completely different at the same time? 

As you near your apartment complex, your phone starts vibrating from somewhere in your bag.

FROM: DO NOT ANSWER!!!

it was nice to see U again i missed U

You scoff, about to put it away when it chimes again.

U look good in my jacket btw

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

“You did WHAT?!”

The phone speaker crackles. You wince, glad you couldn’t see Tara’s face right now. Bringing your hands to cover your eyes, you fall onto your bed.

It had been hours since you had left him on read, rushing into your apartment to wash away all of the sins you had committed last night. As much as you scrubbed at your skin, the thoughts of Xavier lingered.

His eyes, his lips, his scent.

Okay, relax. 

Stop thinking about his stupid pretty face.

And how much you wish he was here.

“I know,” you groan. Growing desperate, you called the only person who could actually talk some sense into you, Tara. Though, you were starting to regret ever telling her anything.

“Okay,” she sighs. “It’s not that bad. I mean, it was just sex, right? We all have our weak moments. Let’s blame it on your hormonal cycle.”

You giggle at that, because while she probably wasn’t wrong, it felt way, way worse than that.

It definitely had been more than sex. At least for you.

“Tara,” you sit up, looking at his haphazardly folded jacket in the corner of your room. “He started cooking breakfast for me.”

You hear her cough through your phone’s speaker. 

“Xavier?! Your Xavier cooked… breakfast?!” you try to ignore the way your stomach flips when she calls him yours.

What the hell was he doing to you?

“Oh my god!” Tara giggles, you bring your fingers to your temples. “Wow, he’s really pulling out all the stops.” she’s laughing uncontrollably now, clearly amused at his attempts. You wish you felt the same.

She quiets down once she notices your silence.

“Don’t tell me you’re… actually falling for this?” 

You groan, rubbing at your eyes until you see stars. Tara groans too, mumbling your name exasperatedly. 

Truthfully, yes, you might have just been falling for it. But admitting that out loud? That was taking it too far. 

“No, no, I’m not.” but you both know it's a weak attempt at lying.

“Do you remember what you told me when you broke up with him?”

“What?” you question, unsure of what she was talking about. You said a lot of things when you left him. A lot of things you were walking back already.

Your phone vibrates from where it's laying on your bed, and you grab it at an embarrassing speed.

FROM: DO NOT ANSWER!!!

i have a show tmr nite

“You told me if you ever got back with him to shoot you dead.”

id like for U to be there if not for me then for my jacket  U know its my favorite one ;)

You laugh humorlessly. 

“You might need a gun soon.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The familiar red glow of the venue name is like a warning sign.

The sun has tucked away into the horizon, a deep blue painting the cloudy sky. Tiny droplets fall from the sky onto your nose, making you flinch. You wipe at your face, scowling. You had gotten here half an hour ago, yet your feet seemed to be cemented into the ground.

But the rain was coming more quickly now, heavier. And you knew you couldn’t stand out here for much longer unless you wanted to get soaked. 

You told yourself it was just to drop off his jacket. That’s it. You would make it clear there was nothing more for him to take from you. You needed to cut it off now, before you were in too deep.

More people trickle into the building, and you take a deep breath trying to still your racing heart. Left hand gripping his jacket, you open the door and step into the smell of cigarettes and wood.

The venue is almost filled to the brim, as expected when the show was ten minutes to start. You head straight to the bar, hoping to get a clearer vantage point. All you needed to do was find Xavier before he went on stage so you could easily slip back out.

But when you reach the counter, another familiar voice calls out your name,

You turn, surprised to see Jeremiah, the band’s drummer, staring at you incredulously. The bartender slides him a glass but he continues to stare at you like you just came back from the dead.

“Wow, I never thought I’d see you here again.” His tone is light, teasing, but it reminds you of your own undoing. You suppress your wince, forcing a laugh.

“I’m just here to drop something off. Have you seen Xavier?” you felt bad for cutting it short with him, but right now you needed to leave before you were anchored down.

Something unreadable flashes across his eyes, his lips pulling into a thin line.

“Uh, yeah.” he coughs, taking the whiskey glass with him as he motions you to follow him.

Suddenly, you feel unsettled. A pit forms in your stomach as you walk behind him, pushing through the crowd. You reach backstage after he greets the security guard.

“I’d, uh, knock before going in.” Jeremiah says, an almost pitiful look in his eyes as he leaves you in front of a dressing room. You nod slightly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Thanks.” you mumble, but you’re unsure if he even hears you as he walks away.

Xavier’s name is scribbled on the door.

Though the crowd’s buzzing with excitement, you can make out two voices clearly. 

A woman’s laugh. Xavier’s low voice.

Before you can tap your knuckles against the door, it opens, and your suspicions are confirmed.

An attractive woman stands before you, smooth clear skin and ruffled black hair. Her dress straps are falling down her shoulders, lipstick smudged enough for you to notice. This was a familiar sight.

“S’cuse me,” she says, bashfully tilting her head down and slipping past you.

The door swings open wider, and there’s Xavier. Shirtless, so focused on buckling his belt that he doesn’t notice you stepping into the room.

Now this, this was the Xavier you knew.

And you know you have no right to feel so hurt. After all, this is exactly why you had chosen to walk out on him. This inescapable feeling of constant disappointment, and you had only yourself to blame. You were the one that got your hopes up. After what? A fucking breakfast?

What were you even expecting? For him to suddenly become the man you always wanted him to be? The man you always thought he could be?

You can’t change a leopard’s spots. 

You throw the jacket at Xavier’s face, and he jumps back, surprised. 

“What the f—!” The words on his tongue seem to dissipate once his eyes land on you. He opens and closes his mouth. It only makes you more angry. Whether at him or yourself you were unsure.

Xavier whispers your name gently, like it held any real meaning to him. 

“I… I didn’t think you were gonna show up.” He inches closer to you, but you take a step back. His face falls, as if he had any right to be offended by your gesture.

“I just came to drop this off.” it’s sharp, unapologetic, voice steadier than you feel.

“You’re not going to stay?” you scoff at his audacity to ask such a forgiving question.

“Are you seriously—” you stop, eyes widening at the bright red blood dripping down his cheek. 

“Xavier, your face.” you drop your arms to your side, walking towards him to look at his wound closely. Eyes shifting from the jacket on the ground to his face, you frown. The guilt bubbling up in your throat is hard to push back down.

Xavier stares at you vehemently, and you silently curse his sickly sweet eyes. Your hand comes to lightly touch his cheek. He winces but leans into your hand.

You swallow thickly, looking around for something to wipe the blood from his face. Grabbing a cotton pad from the vanity desk, you turn back to him.

He’s close, too close. His breathing is uneven, and you push him gently to sit down. His lashes flutter as you deftly swab his injury. You try to focus on him and not the way his hand comes up to grip your waist.

“I’m sor—”

“Stay,” Xavier doesn’t let you apologize, instead pulling you closer to him. “For the show, at least.”

Your hand comes to his chest, a way to put some sort of distance between you and him. You know you should push away, leave his embrace and leave this place. But your fingers spread onto the heat of his bare skin, against his heart.

“I… can’t.” you whisper, unable to find the sturdy voice you had just a few moments ago.

“Why not?” he asks, and this scene feels all too familiar.

“I’m meeting someone.” It's a lie. You don't even know why you say it. Maybe you wanted to make him feel like you did right now. It was a feeble attempt, but his eyes are fiery at the mention of someone else. 

Eyes darkening, he scoffs, fingers digging deeper into your skin. You can’t stand his searing gaze any longer, eyes falling to your feet.

“Who?” it's a demand, not a question. You open your mouth to speak, but a loud knock at the door stops you.

“Two minutes out!” 

Xavier throws his head back and sighs exasperatedly. He lets go of you to grab his black shirt, and you feel like you can finally breathe again. He stands, towering over you. You take a few shaky steps back, hands balling into fists at your side.

“Stay.” he states again, grabbing your wrist. He kisses your palm so softly it almost makes you gasp.

“Xavier—!” but he’s already halfway out the door, only turning to smirk at you.

“I’m sure they won’t mind.”

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

You’re not sure how you let it get this far.

This was supposed to go entirely different in your head. This time you were done, truly done. You were tired of the push and pull, this never-ending cycle of despondency. You were sure this would be the day you would end it for sure.

You came to Xavier’s show to end it. And even as his slender fingers strummed his guitar, sweat dripping from his forehead as he looked into your eyes from the stage, your resolve did not falter. You kept reminding yourself of the image of that woman coming out of his dressing room.

Even when he looked at you like you were the only one in the room.

So why Xavier was on his knees, head in between your thighs as he laps at your dripping cunt like a man starved, you didn’t know.

There was no excuse for it. As much as you tried, it was as if you just couldn’t walk away from him. Not when he treated you like this. Not when he knew your body so well.

He had been at it for what felt like hours, making your back arch with overwhelming pleasure over and over again. His tongue, unrelenting, even as your eyes welled with sensitivity. He would drink your wetness like it was the only water left on earth, only to continue pushing you over the edge.

“Xav— ah! Xavier, please!”

The venue had long been empty, and somehow Xavier had been able to convince the owner to let him close up. You should have known then that you would not be having the talk you wanted.

Though, you weren’t exactly complaining about how you ended up.

His eyes meet yours, and you can feel his hot breath over your swollen folds. “Please what, angel? I’m just trying to show you how much you mean to me.”

You’re a panting mess above him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Throwing your head back as your hands grip the stool behind you. How you were still standing was a mystery to you, though you suspect that Xavier’s iron grip on your hips was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

“Tell me,” his voice is low, hands trailing down your thighs. “Who else is going to have you like this?”

A whine slips out of you as his fingers slide down your slick folds. “Look at me, angel.”

You do, reluctantly. He brings his fingers to his mouth, covered in your juices, licking them clean. The sight has you clenching around nothing, only now noticing how empty you were.

“Do you really think someone else will satisfy you like I do?”

You’re quiet, head clouded and eyes seeing stars. You should be mad at yourself for letting yourself turn into putty so easily in Xavier’s hands. What you should have done was leave as soon as he started kissing you. But, there was no denying it anymore, you were addicted to him.

Whether it was good for you or not, the hold he had on you was impenetrable.

And maybe, he just felt too good to have.

A gentle kiss is placed on the inside of your thigh, you lean into his tenderness. You knew the answer to his question, but you weren’t ready to admit it just yet.

“Xavier,” your voice is needy, there’s a fervor swimming in his hazy eyes. “I want you.”

He stands, arm gripping your waist when you stumble from your weak legs. His hand comes up to cup your face, looking into your eyes as if he’s searching for something in them. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.” he whispers, an underlying smugness in his words.

You thought so too.

But as his thumb comes up to your bottom lip, you find yourself parting your lips for him. Xavier pulls you closer. 

“Go ahead,” he purrs, “walk away right now. I won’t stop you.”

He says it like he knows you won’t.

And you don’t.

His lip quirks slightly as he lifts his chin. “That’s what I thought.”

Xavier’s kiss is hungry, clashing harshly against your teeth. His tongue in your throat, he lifts you onto the stool behind you. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively, unable to help the soft moans that leave you.

One more time wouldn’t hurt, right?

[always-just-red]

Please make a story that zayne is very clingy, sweet , romantic

For Mc

Pretty please

Make it long

Please

Please

Need a food 🥺

Food is served!! (One of these days you guys are gonna see an 'only accepting requests for Rafayel now' post and it'll be Raf hijacking my computer because WHY WAS I CATCHING FEELINGS FOR ZAYNE WHILE WRITING THIS??)

Doctor's Orders

Zayne x Reader ❄

Summary: Zayne has suggested you skip work today, which isn't suspicious at all...

Genre: Fluff (with a *pinch* of angst)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, some kisses, some mentions of death (just a real mixed bag, you know?)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Do you really have to go?”

Zayne was a lot of things: caring, even doting, but never normally this… clingy.

You pretend not to hear the question, feeling the weight of his eyes on your back as you get ready to leave. You will answer it— you’re not ignoring him— but you have so much to do, and you’ve answered it three times already. Yes, Zayne. It’s work. You finish lacing your boots. And no, Zayne, I can’t get out of it.

And since when was he an advocate for skipping a shift, anyway? Like blood from a stone, he’d calmly pleaded with you to come up with some sort of excuse and you’d stared back, eyes wide, because you didn’t know stones could bleed.

An excuse? You’d repeated in disbelief.

Yes. You could… tell them you’re sick? I could write you a note.

You’d thought it a joke until he drew out a pen and started scrawling something on the nearest scrap of paper. He’d pushed it into your hands, his gaze earnest, as though he were trusting a co-conspirator. Here, he’d said matter-of-factly, you can give it to your captain tomorrow.

The writing was barely legible.

It’s still crinkling in your pocket now: your little ‘get-out-of-your-Sunday-shift-free’ card, courtesy of Doctor Zayne, and yes, you are going to hold onto it, but it’s not for Jenna. It’s for your apartment wall, where you’ll be mounting it in a golden frame, because absolutely no-one is going to believe you when you tell this story.

You collect your guns from a nearby drawer, checking the sights and the safety on each before holstering them at your sides. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll get back,” you shrug.

A nice sentiment— not entirely true. “Or you could stay.” Zayne is looking at your weapons, not you.

He’s sat at the kitchen table, watching you over an untouched breakfast. Yours also sits around him: plates upon plates of every food you could imagine, warm and cold, savoury and sweet. You’d suffered a brief heart attack when you’d first laid eyes on it, presuming you’d forgotten some occasion or another.

There’s even a vase of fresh flowers, flourishing at the centre of it all.

It’s one of the most romantic things you’ve ever seen, but you’re starting to think that’s the point. Like a hand on your heart, squeezing; it’s urging you to sit back down, to relax, to surrender and let him take care of you. Are you the worst person in the world? It feels like you are.

Ready to take on anything but more of his gaze, you return to the table, fully-armed, and pluck a strawberry from the edge of a plate. You pop it into your mouth, savouring its sweetness as you stroll behind Zayne’s chair. “Try not to worry,” you mumble, resting your hand on his shoulder while you lean in to kiss his cheek. “Ok?”

“Ok.”

You go to pull away, but his hand lands on your hand, anchoring you to him. His fingers wrap around your wrist, lifting, guiding your fingers in front of his mouth so he can press a few, brisk kisses to each. Your heart is in a vice again— tightening with every brush of his lips. You can’t take it. You can’t.

He knows, and he’s turning in the chair, slipping his free hand around your waist and tugging until you’re crushed up against him. “Stay. Please?” his voice entreats. You can barely hear it from where his face is nestled into you.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, and you sigh as your hands move to cradle his head and run your fingers through his hair. You want to enjoy this. Why can’t you enjoy this?

His breath is fanning against you and all you can think about is the fact that he’s making you late.

…

You’re marching to headquarters twice as quickly as usual, and you’ve crashed into three people already. Every time there’s been an impulse to scream “get out of the way!” but you’re wearing your uniform, so you have to apologise, smile sweetly, and pretend you’re not one incident away from turning in your badge and leaving them all to fend for themselves.

Someone steps out in front of you and you have to swerve to miss them, almost dropping your phone in the process. It had just started ringing, and the noise persists as you fumble with it.

“Hello?” you answer, putting it to one ear as you plug the other with a finger.

“Hi!” It’s Greyson, finally, and he’s surprisingly chipper for someone you know is just coming off of his graveyard shift. “I saw your texts. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah! Thanks for calling. It’s just…”  Everything’s too noisy for you to concentrate, and you’re still essentially running an obstacle course. You peel away from the crowd, ducking into the quiet of an alley. “I’m a little worried about Zayne. He’s been acting weird all weekend, ever since—”

“Friday?”

“Yeah.” That couldn’t mean anything good. Your brow furrows. “Did something happen?” 

A drawn-out sigh makes it through the phone, and you know Greyson well enough to know he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, wondering just how much he should tell you. “We had a patient transferred to us on Friday,” he caves, “a young woman— a hunter, injured— she was… not in a good way. Recovery odds next to zero, but Zayne? You know Zayne. He had to try.”

You nod, even though Greyson can’t see it. There’s dread in the pit of your stomach; you can tell where this is going.

“She didn’t make it,” he states with the rehearsed evenness of someone who’s spoken the words too many times before. There’s another sigh, then he hastens to add: “Zayne was incredible, though— he did everything he could, really. He was her best chance, he just… wasn’t enough. You can’t save everyone, you know?” He chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, you know.”

And you do: you’re just as haunted by that truth and all of its ghosts. “Yeah,” you speak at last, seeing their faces. Your throat hurts. “Thanks, Greyson. Really.”

“That’s ok,” he yawns. “If Zayne asks, you didn’t hear it from me.”

“You think he’s gonna believe that?”

“No.” He’s smiling, now— you can tell. “But it’s worth a try! You take care of yourself, ok?”

“You too. Thanks again.”

“Any time.”

…

You’ve only been gone for half an hour, but Zayne is fast asleep. Though you’d practically burst through the front door, his head is still lowered— dipping over an open medical journal— and his dark hair has fallen over his eyes. You can’t help but smile. This wasn’t the nervous, pacing-the-apartment man you’d expected to find, but it eases the guilt in your chest for the first time all morning.

You sling your bag from your shoulder and set it gently down on the floor, all the while easing the door closed behind you. You unfasten your holsters. Shrug yourself free of all their straps. You don’t make a sound; you’re being very careful.

Slowly, you make your way over to where Zayne’s lying on the sofa. You lower yourself to his level, reaching to pry his book from his fingers. His glasses are next: you ease them from his face like you’re handling a volatile protocore. Your breath is baited. Your hands almost shake, but you’re an expert at this sort of extraction: you’ve done it a hundred times before.

With your mission accomplished, you allow yourself one small reward. You want to see his face— all of his face— so you card your fingers through his fallen hair, smoothing it back into place. He looks like a dream: the kind you’re glad to carry through daylight, long after you wake. The kind you write down for fear of forgetting a single detail.

You want this, this, this. Every morning. For the rest of your life.

And maybe even the next life. Is that possible?

(You hope it’s possible.)

Standing softly, you smile again— a smile between you and the universe, the gods, and the night sky, in all its infinity. There are things you cannot know and even more things you cannot have, but you are more than content with your consolation prize. This:

One minute of peace, for you and your doctor.

You have a funny feeling this is more than you were ever meant to have.

When your minute is through, you watch as Zayne’s face changes, and he is no longer at peace. He frowns, his whole body suddenly tense. There’s a murmur of… pain? It sounds like pain— he winces like it’s pain. He doesn’t tell you where he goes, but you wish you could hold his hand and make a breakfast big enough to keep him from going there.

“Zayne,” you whisper, resting a warm palm on his cheek. A little louder: “Zayne.”

He stirs in his sleep as your voice brings him back to reality. He’s yours— yours— and the inevitable can have him later. Sure enough, his eyes flutter open, lost for a moment, but then? Home. Safe. With you.

“Hey,” you grin.

He squints against the daylight. “Hmm? Oh. What are you doing back so soon?”

You scoff. “Some doctor you are! I’m at death’s door— can’t you tell?” Your hand leaves his cheek, indicating your not-pallid skin, not-flushed cheeks, and not-sunken eyes with a wave. Then you find his hand, pressing his fingers to your forehead.

There’s a second of hesitation. “Ah,” he says warily, “yes, you’re… burning up.”

“Right?!” 

Despite the severity of your condition, you find the strength to clamber on top of him. It’s anything but graceful, and he groans as you shift and fidget, taking your time getting comfortable. Eventually you settle, your head resting against his chest and his arms holding you close. You’re not tired, but you close your eyes, and this is so much better than patrolling for Wanderers.

He draws you higher so his chin can rest on the top of your head. “Greyson told you, didn’t he?” he ventures aloud, because he’s awake, now, so he’s connecting dots.

“Yeah,” you nod against him. “But if he asks, I said it was Yvonne, ok?”

There’s a hum of agreement, then he’s silent. Thinking again. “I’m sorry,” he finally speaks.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s sweet that you worry. You don’t need to—”

“No,” he stops you. “I care about you a lot, and I’ll never apologise for that. What I am sorry for, however, is that a romantic gesture from me is so unusual that you feel you have to call my colleagues. I know I’m not always outwardly affectionate, but—”

“No.” It’s your turn now, and you twist, angling yourself so you can look up into his eyes. “You always make me feel loved, Zayne. Everything you do, everything you say… it’s for me, and no-one has ever cared about me like that. No-one has ever showed me they care like that.”

“Then why—”

“Because you get it, Zayne— the importance of what I do, because it’s what you do, even if it’s different. We’re both saving the world a little, right?”

“Right.”

You draw out his doctor’s note and shimmy it in front of his eyes. “So what the hell is this?”

He admits guilt with a chuckle, his hand moving to catch the evidence, but you’re one step ahead, stashing it back into the sanctity of your pocket. He issues a short hmph, defeated.

“Come on,” you prompt, escaping his arms. “Let’s not let all that food go to waste. You kept it, yeah? I’ve been dreaming about those chocolate-chip pancakes since I left.”

Zayne had been helping you up, but he slumps back as you finish your sentence. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,” he confirms with the trademark nod of a doctor, and it can only mean one thing:

You’re about to receive some very, very bad news.

[yvesssssssss]

heyy, new request! 😚

how would nagumo and seba react if their s/o died and how would they move on? can they actually move on or not? what do they do to get over you?

take your time taking requests btw! i love how you write them both so much!! 😋 (pls make this very angsty)

If Their S/O Died – Nagumo & Seba’s Reactions and Moving On (or Not)

I hope you like it! I’m not really great at writing angst so yeahh༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Nagumo Yoichi

Nagumo doesn't react how people expect him to. He doesn't cry. He doesn't scream. He doesn't even look surprised. When the news reaches him, his expression stays eerily neutral, almost like he already knew this would happen.

But the moment he's alone, the cracks start to show. The silence of a room where your voice used to be is deafening. The absence of your warmth beside him in bed makes it impossible to sleep. He knows grief isn't something he can outmaneuver, isn't something he can joke his way through—but that doesn't stop him from trying.

He goes back to work as if nothing happened. Smiling, laughing, teasing people like always. But something is off. His disguises last longer than before. His voices and personalities become more refined, more immersive. It's almost like he's desperately trying to become someone else—someone who isn't mourning you.

The Order notices. Shishiba eyes him critically, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them, but ultimately says nothing. Even Osaragi—usually indifferent—tilts her head, chewing on her lollipop a little slower as if sensing something off beneath Nagumo’s usual grin.

But Nagumo doesn't talk about you. Not once. If someone mentions your name, he acts like he didn’t hear it. Not because he doesn’t care, but because if he acknowledges you’re gone—really gone—then he has to acknowledge that he was powerless to stop it.

And Nagumo hates feeling powerless.

When he tries to "move on," he does it in the worst way possible. He flirts more. He sleeps around. He drinks too much. He smiles too much. But none of it works. Your absence is a wound he keeps covering with bandages that never stick.

Late at night, when the world is quiet, he sits alone with his thoughts—and that's when it gets unbearable. He catches himself reaching for his phone to text you, only to remember there’s no one to answer. He orders food and sets aside a portion for you before realizing you’ll never eat it. He dreams of you, and for a few blissful moments, he forgets you’re dead. But when he wakes up, reality crashes down like a blade through his ribs.

Nagumo is not the kind of man who "gets over" people. He just pretends he does.

And one day, years later, if someone asks about you, he’ll smile. He’ll make a joke. But if they watch closely, they might notice the way his fingers twitch, the way his smile strains—how, despite all his masks, there is a part of him that never left that moment.

Nagumo lives with grief. But he never truly moves on.

Natsuki Seba

At first, Natsuki doesn’t react at all.

He hears the news, nods blankly, and goes back to work. It’s almost eerie how normal he seems—still hammering away in his workshop, still crafting weapons, still maintaining his usual sarcasm. He even jokes about it once, an offhand comment about how you’d be mad if he let your death slow him down.

But something is wrong.

The weapons he makes are flawless—more flawless than ever. Each blade sharper, each gun modified to perfection, every design pushed to its absolute limit. But when you look at them too closely, there’s something unsettling about them. Like he’s pouring all his grief into the metal, twisting his pain into something dangerous.

Mafuyu notices. He watches as Natsuki stops sleeping, stops eating properly, stops talking to anyone outside of work. But when Mafuyu tries to bring it up, Natsuki snaps.

"What, you think I’m gonna break down? Cry about it? You think I need your help?"

He doesn’t. He doesn’t need anyone. Because you’re gone, and no one can fix that.

And so he throws himself deeper into his work, spending days in his workshop without stepping outside. The machines hum, the forge burns hot, the sound of metal clanging against metal echoes through the empty room. But it’s not enough. No matter how many weapons he makes, no matter how perfect they are, they can’t bring you back.

His hands start shaking. He ignores it.

His vision blurs from exhaustion. He keeps working.

He starts testing weapons recklessly, no longer caring if the blade is too sharp or if the recoil is too strong. If he gets hurt, so what? It doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

The first time he breaks down, it’s over something stupid—he’s sharpening a knife, and for a split second, he imagines handing it to you. Because that’s what he used to do. He used to show you his work, let you admire it, let you hold the finished product in your hands. But now, there’s no one to show it to.

The knife slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor. And just like that, something inside him shatters.

He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t scream. He just stands there, staring at the blade, his hands clenched into fists so tight his nails dig into his skin.

And that’s when he realizes—he can make the strongest weapons in the world, but he was never strong enough to protect you.

After that, something changes. His weapons become colder. More efficient. No unnecessary details, no personalization, no sign of the careful craftsmanship he once prided himself on. Just machines of death, made with mechanical precision.

People start noticing. They say his weapons feel different—like they weren’t made by a person, but by someone who doesn’t care anymore.

And maybe that’s the truth.

Because Natsuki doesn’t stop working. He doesn’t take a break. He doesn’t grieve—because if he does, he’s afraid he’ll never start again.

He doesn’t move on. He just keeps forging.

Because the moment he stops, he’ll have to face the fact that you’re never coming back.

And that’s a pain he’s not ready to bear.

[medullamindset]

hii do u think u could perhaps do daisuke dating headcanons😓😓 can be sfw or nsfw

Yes hehehehhegeheheggeeee

The hc's are divided into general / relationship / NSFW ✦

CW: brief mention of drinking and smoking weed, uhmmmmm that's abt it?

GENERAL HC'S

✿   • 23 years old. (not sure of his birth year since it isn't established wether MW takes place in the future or the past or what)

✿   • Hes 1/2 japanese, 1/4 hispanic and 1/4 fillipino but either isn't spoken as much as english in his house so he never really picked up on the languages, knows bits and pieces tho. His mother is Japanese and his Father is Hispanic/Filipino but they met in america.

✿   • Loves all kinds of music, cannot stick to one genre for the life of him. Reggae, Pop, Techno, Metal, Country, Dad-rock, disco, experimental everything all the way to punk he doesn't care!!!! Hes dancing to all of the above, flailing his arms around and jumping like a madman

↑ I feel like some of his favorite artists would be The Cave Singers, Wooden Shjips, Gorillaz, Björk (that includes her ex-bands like K.U.K.L. and The Sugarcubes), NIN, Ariel Pink, Guns N' Roses, Ramones, RHCP and uhhh yeah just a shit load of contrast basically LOL

✿ • Chronic sims 4 player. He'll be hunched over his laptop for hours putting his poor sims through the most brutal shit and trying the most insane challenges.

His laptop is literally breathing like a dragon with all the mods he downloads-

✿   • Knows the FNAF lore by heart. He tried to be one of the Cool Kids™️ in middle school but enjoyed participating in a few "cringe" interests with the Weird Kids™️ from time to time.

✿   • Was lowkey a bit ignored by his classmates growing up. He was "too girly" for the boys and "too boyish" for the girls. So he was kinda bouncing back and forth, stuck in the middle.

✿   • Swears he'd never date a man but had so many male fictional crushes as a kid, you couldn't waterboard that info out of him but he's definetly a closeted bisexual.

✿   • Monster Energy enthusiast, drinks it like coffee. He'll complain about a headache and everything if he hasn't drank one in a while.

Loves fizzy drinks in general, he's team Dr. Pepper 😎

✿   • Has a few friends(?) That treat him kinda shitty cuz hes so gullible, think of 'em kinda like Tony, Cook, Sid and Chris from Skins UK. Cracking jokes at his expense and pretending to care abt him.. Or maybe they do but just have a really weird way of showing it❓

He goes home a little butthurt every time but doesn't wanna "be a baby" so he rarely makes a thing of it.

✿   • Ok so, i feel like ppl take the "And then theres that teeny bopper thinking only with his downstairs longnose." Dialogue from Swansea to the extreme. Cuz Swansea is usually very pessimistic and dramatic in his dialogue. Daisuke might aswell just have been complaining abt how hard it is to date on a freaking space freighter and how badly he wanted a lovelife while repairing something and Swansea decided to make a snarky/sarcastic remark abt it like he does on other occasions in game. "Capitano! Man with the plan!", "Let's hear it for Wake Rock!", "think i can already feel the ship rumb-a-tumbling through space." Ect.

Or maybe he is just a gooner i mean whaddo i know 🤷‍♀️ (pls don't attack me goonsuke fans)

✿   • Doesn't really drink that much when hes out, he'll have something if everyone else is but he rarely gets drunk-drunk. Hes a sentimental one but thats a secret shhhhh.

✿   • has tried smoking weed too but inhaled it wrong and nearly threw up from how hard he was coughing, his face was beet red for the rest of the night, 50% from the coughing, 50% from embarrassment. His friends get him into alot of stupid shit.

✿ • Talks to inanimate objects all the time and rarely thinks twice about it, like he'll bump into a table and say "sorry" or "excuse me", but if it was particularily hard on a sharp edge he'll go "owwUHH!!😠 You bitch...💔"

↑ Holding the drinks in the car still when he makes a sharp turn and saying something like "Hold on tight, Ladies." With a smirk.

↑ Tells his dishes it's "bath time!" and asked "may i take your coats?🧐" One time when peeling garlic.

✿ • Speaking of garlic he helps his mom around in the kitchen alot when making dinner, hes secretly a really good cook from just watching and learning through her but doesn't really like doing it all that much so it never lives up to its full potential. His dad is a bit scary in the kitchen on the other hand so he stays behind him lol

✿ • I headcanon his parents to be very like-..? They try to be supportive of him and encourage him to "try that" or "check out that job application" but on an emotional level they're a bit harder to get through to. Hes convinced they're dissapointed in him 24/7 what with how his mom called him a slacker. But they just want what's best for him.

He knows he'll never be like them. Just like Swansea said, hes not an ace student, career workhorse or a force of ambition. He doubts he'll ever bring in the big bucks. But that doesn't stop him from wanting to try. Hes just lost.

✿ • Hes had multiple low-paying jobs before the Tulpar like record store employée, Video store, ice cream stand or fast food employée. Top burger flipper Dai 😎🍔 but always manages to get fired somehow 🤕

✿ • That pink hawaiian shirt is just one out of dozens. He just likes them so much, each one is different from the other in color and pattern and he audibly gasps with exitement when he finds a new treasure at his local thrifts. They're literally all he wears. Hawaiian shirt, jeans, tee and jewelry. Every day. Maybe a hoodie over in the winter.. But don't mistake him for an outfit repeater.

✿ • Has been bleaching his hair since he was 20, went full yellow-ish blonde the first time but liked the outgrown roots look better.

Needs help with the back desparately 😭🙏

✿ • Had blue hair at one point as a kid and also shaved his whole head at 16 when he was feeling angsty and regretted it like crazy a week later ☠️

✿ • Wants more ear piercings SO BAD but feels shitty asking his parents for money. Grown ass man..

Lowkey also wants an eyebrow piercing but is afraid of it rejecting or getting ripped out somehow (same).

✿ • wears the most fuckass socks under those boots. Bro ONLY has silly patterned socks. Bananas, dinosaurs, stripes, stars, minecraft, spiderman, flowers, cats, literally anything.

RELATIONSHIP HC'S

✿ • Constantly wonders why you're dating him. Like you're just so cool and pretty and hes just "meh" in his eyes. He is so ready for you to dump him for some hung, beefy biker any second the first three months of your relationship.

✿ • Looks to you for your opinion all the time before deciding something. Sometimes it's just "Does this shirt look good??" But other times he really has to double check with you before making a big decision. He undermines himself quite often, he doesn't realize how smart and independent he actually is or could be. Dissmissing his thoughts to hear yours.

Thats when u have to try and mindfuck slash convince him into trusting his own intuition.

✿ • Loves watching you do your makeup (if u wear any). He'll just be sat behind you and watching everything you do in the mirror. Guesses what the products are before you use them.

↑ Wants u to kiss him all over after applying lipstick.

"But, baby, it'll stain :("

"Yes please!" *points to cheek.*

↑ Also begs you to do his eyeliner from time to time when you're going out. Adores the way you hold his jaw and stare at him in focus.

✿ • if you do piercings or are like "in training" hes begging YOU to do the piercings for him ‼️ "Please baby, please, i'llSuckIt,I'llBuyTicketsToThatConcertNextMonth,I'llBuyYouANewCar,I'llDoAnythingJust PLEASEEE pierce my rook!!!!" Hes literally on his knees with his hands clasped together.

↑ if you're not a pro tho, getting pierced together is definetly a date idea. You'd have a jar with the words "PiErciNG cAsH" scribbled on it standing proudly in your kitchen that you both drop money into regularily.

↑ puts on a brave face when the needle comes but bro has the lowest pain tolerance ever. Fainted once. You had to feed him kitkats till he could stand up.

NSFW HC'S

✿ • Is a virgin but not completely clueless, hes come close to losing his virginity before but both he and the other person pussied out. Got a handjob once tho!

He knows where the clit is from watching porn el oh el

✿ • Has moles all over, not just his face. He has a few on his arms and back but the most noticable(prettiest) ones are the ones on his chest and stomach <3 allllll the way down to his pubic bone.

i need to draw that..

✿ • LOVEEEESSS HICKEYS. Giving and receiving, he just can't help himself. Wears those purple bruises PROUDLY and can't wait for you to leave new ones once they've faded.

Loves seeing you with them too, it's just such an ego boost when he pulls back and sees you littered in them for everyone to see and know. But if you really don't want them to be anywhere visible he'll be like urgghhhh fiiinee.

You always have atleast one hickey somewhere with Daisuke as ur boyfriend.

✿ • Likes cowgirl, but his fav position is missionary, he gets so lost in the sause when fucking you dude. Whining and gasping into the crook of your neck as he tries not to bust early, stopping his agonizing pace every once in a while to grind his hips into yours, trying to dig himself as deep as possible before picking his pace back up again.

✿ • Pretty average in size, like 5-6 inches and girthy, his tip is like a #cc8976 and his cum is actually not that bad, he drinks alot of water. like ALOT. Hes literally a human fountain

✿ • is a chatterbox in the sheets, cringes a bit at dirtytalk but like "accidental dirtytalk" when hes inside you MFHH. Babbling about how good u feel. No degredation is flying out his trap 'round here.

- "Mnhh, fuckk.. Feel so good, baby.. I'm close-..!"

- "You're so wet,.. Mfhh-.. Hah.. This wet all 'cause of me, babe?"

- "God you're so hot-!! Hahh.. How could i get so lucky? Hm-?.."

✿ • Is a bit silly on impulse sometimes, hes the type to smile and wave at you if you look back at him during doggy hehehahGJDH

He'll apologize profusely after, trying to supress his giggles when you call him a fucking moron KSJAHSBD

OR

*taps on your ass like a keyboard and inserts his dick*

"I'm in. 🧑‍💻"

Hehe i love silly sex

✿ • He loves cumming inside you so much, holds resentment towards condoms cuz they prevent him from doing so. He likes it RAW and without restraints!! But he respects you and your wishes so if you really want him to wear one he'll suck it up lol

✿ • Hes a munch, but honestly he just loves having his mouth on you in general. Getting sloppy with your sex, kissing up your stomach, latching onto your tits and sucking on your neck.

God just imagine him tucking his hair behind his ears lazily before going to town MEOWWWWWWW

✿ • Needs reassurance. It kinda borders on praise kink(?) but generally he just wants to know if hes doing good. If he sees even the slightest bit of boredom or discomfort on your face hes pulling away immediately to double check.

Once again with the whole "accidental dirtytalk" thing. He'll ask you something, genuienly seeking confirmation.. But he just says it so out of breath and whiny it sounds borderline filthy sometimes.

- "That the spot, baby?"

- "This ok?" / "You like that?" / "Right there, babe?"

He just wants to please you :((

Sigh..

Click

brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

[marksbear2]

SILCO X ENFORCER MALE READER

I’m not even gonna lie…this is straight angst💔. This is my first time writing for arcane so let me know what you guys think about it.

⚠️Warnings!- forbidden love, angest, sex mentioned, love reciprocated to late, reader dies, fatal gunshot, doomed mlm.⚠️

Fallen Flame

The undercity of Zaun had a pulse all its own. The flickering lights, the low hum of machinery, the scent of oil and metal. It was a world that lived and breathed in chaos. Among its many streets and alleys, two men stood on opposite sides—one an enforcer, the other a master of control and manipulation. But fate, cruel as it was, had a way of binding their lives together in ways neither could foresee.

You were an enforcer—a soldier in the fight for Piltover's clean streets. The job was simple in theory: uphold order, ensure the laws were followed, and stop people like Silco. It had become your mission to rid the undercity of his influence, to shut down his criminal empire once and for all. But somewhere along the way, things had begun to blur.

Months of chasing shadows had brought you here—into his web. You’d grown obsessed with taking him down, the infamous leader of Zaun's underworld. He was dangerous, manipulative, and infuriatingly elusive. But behind the venomous words and cruel exterior, there was something that drew you in—a deep fire of conviction, one you couldn't help but admire despite yourself.

And you hated him for it.

But then... you’d hated him for so many things.

It started with stolen glances during interrogations. Heated arguments in dimly lit alleys. A desperate, feral kiss exchanged one fateful night when hatred boiled over into something raw and unspeakable. You hated how your body betrayed you. Hated how he kissed you back, biting and brutal, until you couldn’t breathe.

For months, your meetings had been like this—barbs traded like weapons, insults masking the fragile truth neither of you dared to say aloud. You hated him for what he stood for. He hated you for everything you represented. And yet, the tension between you wasn’t just hatred. It was something more dangerous. More intoxicating. It was why you kept coming back, why he kept letting you.

Yet the clandestine meetings continued, each one a powder keg of tension and desire. Every argument left scars—both physical and emotional. And every time you found yourself in his arms, it became harder to pretend this was anything but an addiction. But neither of you admitted the truth. That would’ve been weakness, and neither of you could afford that.

He hated it too, but no matter how hard he tried your touch was engraved into his skin. The sound of your voice was better than any song he heard. Your scent was better than any candle or flower. The way you kissed and made love with him, it was different. You were different…

The night it all ended was suffocatingly humid, the undercity choking on the fumes of industry. You’d received intel of a weapons shipment in the docks, one you knew would solidify Silco’s stranglehold on Zaun.

You weren’t going to let that happen.

The ambush was chaotic. Gunfire erupted, smoke filling the air. Your squad was outnumbered, overwhelmed. But you fought through the chaos, determined to find him. And you did. Silco stood at the edge of the pier, his silhouette illuminated by flickering flames. His men lay scattered, defeated, and his sharp gaze met yours as you leveled your gun at him.

“Don’t move.”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the blood on his temple. “You won’t shoot me.”

Your hands trembled. You wanted to prove him wrong. You wanted to hate him enough to pull the trigger. But you couldn’t. "Why?" The word tore from your throat, a desperate plea. "Why does it have to be this way?"

Silco stepped closer, his voice calm, almost tender. "Because the system you serve will never let us be free. And you... you were never meant to understand that." His hand moved to his coat, and instinct took over. You fired.

The sound was deafening.

But when the smoke cleared, it wasn’t Silco who fell.

Pain exploded in your chest. You looked down, stunned to see the crimson stain blooming across your uniform. One of his men, barely conscious, had fired the shot.

Silco’s face twisted in something unreadable as you dropped to your knees.

The world blurred as he knelt beside you, his hands pressing against the wound.

"You idiot," he snarled, but his voice cracked. "Why didn’t you walk away? You could’ve left this behind." You tried to speak, but the words came out as a cough, blood staining your lips.

"Don’t... don’t act like you care now," you rasped.

His grip tightened, desperation flickering in his eyes. "I don’t."

"Liar."

Silco’s jaw clenched. For once, he didn’t have a sharp retort.

The pain was fading now, replaced by a strange, numbing warmth. Your vision dimmed, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze one last time.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

But it was too late. “I loved you,” you murmured, the truth spilling out with your final breath.

Silco froze, his hand still pressed against your chest as your body went limp. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, shattering whatever armor he had left. For a moment, he stayed there, staring at your lifeless form. Then, slowly, he stood, his face a mask of cold fury and unbearable loss.

The enforcer who had dared to challenge him, who had been both his greatest rival and his deepest regret, was gone. And for the first time in years, Silco felt truly alone.

In the weeks that followed, whispers spread through Zaun. The enforcer who had dared to defy Silco was dead. But what they didn’t know—what Silco would never admit—was that he’d lost far more than just an enemy that night. He’d lost the only person who had ever truly saw him.

THE END

[somaliapearls]

a raging hurricane

(part 2 of “a quiet storm”)

Top Gun masterlist

part 1

✈️ jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader

genre: romance, angst, emotional resolution

wc: 4.3k

summary: Your and Jake’s relationship begins to unfold…

warnings: Strong emotional themes, sexual tension, smut!!, slow-burn payoff, fluff, vulnerable confessions, mentions of past intimacy, future-talk, established relationship feels.

a/n: “Better Man” by Leon Bridges

The kiss deepened before either of you had time to second-guess it.

Jake’s hands gripped your waist like he was scared you’d disappear. His lips were warm and urgent, like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he ever admitted. Your back hit the wall behind you, and you let out a gasp when he pinned you there, breath ragged, lips dragging down to your jaw.

It wasn’t just heat—it was heartache. Desire threaded with all the things neither of you had the guts to say when you were sober and surrounded by rules.

“You have no idea,” he whispered against your neck, “how long I’ve wanted this again.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging gently, grounding yourself as your chest heaved with something that felt dangerously like emotion.

“Jake…” you breathed.

“I know,” he said quietly, eyes meeting yours again. “I know it’s messy. But I can’t keep pretending that kiss didn’t mean something.”

You wanted to argue. Wanted to throw up every wall you’d ever built between you. But all that came out was a soft, “It did.”

His expression changed—just a flicker—but it was enough to undo you.

Jake kissed you again, slower this time. Less desperate. More deliberate.

Like he was memorizing the moment.

You let it happen. Because whatever this was, you weren’t ready to let go of it either.

⸻

Sometime Later

You hadn’t meant to end up on the couch with him, curled against his side under one of the base’s regulation throw blankets. But after the kiss—after several kisses—you’d both needed a moment to breathe.

Jake had pulled away first, brushing his thumb over your lower lip like he couldn’t believe he’d finally kissed you again. You’d expected him to crack a joke. To say something cocky. But instead, he’d just held you.

Silently. Like he didn’t trust himself to speak without ruining it.

Now, your head was on his shoulder, one of his hands resting lightly on your thigh. The air between you had calmed—less heat, more gravity. Like the eye of a storm had settled between you.

“I didn’t plan this,” he murmured into the stillness.

You tilted your head, voice soft. “Plan what?”

“This. You. Us.” Jake gave a small, humorless laugh. “I’ve been chasing everything else so hard—rank, recognition, wins—but none of it’s ever stuck. You did. And I hate that it took me this long to admit it.”

You stared at him, your chest twisting. Jake Seresin wasn’t the type to get emotional. Not like this. Not without meaning every word.

You slid your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. “Then stop running from it.”

He looked over at you, green eyes full of something dangerously close to hope. “You serious?”

“I don’t kiss people I don’t care about,” you whispered. “Even when it’s a bad idea.”

Jake smirked faintly. “And I’ve always been your worst idea, huh?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You still are.”

He leaned in slowly, brushing his lips against your forehead with a softness that felt almost too intimate to bear. “Then let me prove I can be your best one too.”

You knew it was a risk. You’d known it since the moment he’d walked into the room. But you’d never been one to back down from a risk.

Jake’s lips were soft but insistent against yours, and you couldn’t help but respond. The heat between the two of you was immediate, electric. It felt like every touch, every breath, was amplifying the tension that had been building for far too long.

You moaned into the kiss, unable to help yourself as Jake’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging slightly, and you shivered at the sensation. It was exhilarating, thrilling, and it felt like everything you’d been denying yourself for so long.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Jake whispered against your lips, his voice husky. “About you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you pressed yourself closer to him. “So have I,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

Jake’s grip on your waist tightened, his lips moving to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin. It felt incredible—the way his mouth moved over you, the heat of his touch, the desperation in his movements. It was like every moment you’d denied yourself, every time you’d told yourself no, was being made up for now.

You gasped as his teeth grazed your collarbone, his hand sliding up to cup your breast. The touch was electric, and you arched into it, needing more. Jake’s hand moved to the buttons of your shirt, undoing them slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every second.

When your shirt fell open, Jake’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. He looked at you like he was starving, like you were everything he’d ever wanted. The intensity of it was overwhelming, and for a moment, all you could do was stand there, caught in his gaze.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of your bra. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.”

You couldn’t respond. All you could do was feel—feel the heat of his touch, feel the way your body responded to him, feel the years of tension and desire finally reaching a breaking point.

Jake’s hand slid behind your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. When he pulled it away, he let out a low groan, his eyes roaming over your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

The sensation was incredible—his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, his teeth grazing lightly, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You moaned, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him close as he worshiped your breasts with his mouth.

It felt so good, so right, like everything else had just melted away and all that was left was the two of you, lost in this moment of pure desire. You couldn’t think; you could only feel—feel his touch, feel his lips, feel the heat building between your legs.

Jake’s hands moved to your pants, undoing the button and zipper with deft fingers. When his hand slid into your panties, you gasped, your legs nearly giving way beneath you.

“You’re so wet,” Jake murmured, his finger sliding through your slick folds. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All you could do was nod, needing him to touch you more, to never stop. Jake’s fingers were magic, finding your clit and circling it slowly, teasingly, before sliding lower to push inside you.

The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, was indescribable. You moaned, pressing yourself against his hand, needing more. Jake added another finger, his thumb finding your clit again, and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher, the pleasure building with every stroke.

“Jake,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’m… I’m close.”

He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with desire. “I know,” he said, his fingers moving faster, harder. “Let go. I want to see you come apart.”

And with that, you did. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under. You cried out, your body shaking as Jake continued to stroke you through it, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

When you finally came down, Jake pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. The sight of it was so erotic that you felt yourself growing aroused all over again.

“You taste amazing,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “But I want more. I want all of you.”

You nodded, unable to speak, as Jake quickly undid his own pants, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. He was hard, so hard, and the sight of him made your mouth water.

Jake pulled you closer, his tip brushing against your wet folds. “I need you,” he said, his voice raw. “I need to be inside you.”

“Yes,” you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you up.

He entered you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You gasped at the feeling, at the stretch of him inside you. It felt incredible, perfect, like nothing you’d ever felt before.

Jake started to move, his thrusts slow at first but growing faster, harder, as his control slipped. You clung to him, your arms around his neck, your legs tight around his waist, as he pounded into you.

It was intense, passionate, all-consuming. Every thrust felt like it was touching a part of you that had never been touched before. Jake’s lips found yours again, kissing you deeply as he took you right there against the wall.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Jake growled against your lips. “Wanted you. Needed you.”

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t do anything but moan and cling to him as he drove into you again and again. The pleasure was building again, faster this time, more intense.

“Come for me,” Jake whispered, his voice strained. “Come with me.”

And as if on command, you did. Your orgasm hit you hard, making you cry out as you clenched around him. Jake followed soon after, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his release inside you.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Jake held you close, his forehead resting against yours. For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding each other as you both caught your breath.

“That was…” Jake started, trailing off as he searched for words.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah. It was.”

Jake pulled out of you slowly, setting you down gently before tucking himself back into his pants. You fixed your clothes too, though your fingers felt numb, your whole body still buzzing from what had just happened.

“So,” Jake said, breaking the silence. He looked at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “We should probably talk about this, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a little giddy. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

But for now, you were just content to be there with him, to feel the warmth of his body next to yours, to know that whatever this was, it was real, and it was finally out in the open.

Later That Night

You didn’t sleep much.

Not for lack of trying—Jake had offered to leave, had even stood to go once, but the way your hand clutched at his shirt told him everything he needed to know. Instead, he stayed. Curled behind you on the narrow couch, one arm tucked under your neck, the other draped protectively over your waist.

Neither of you said anything.

Because in that quiet, tangled moment, words felt unnecessary.

But you both felt it.

The shift.

The realization that whatever you’d been tiptoeing around for so long wasn’t going away.

⸻

The Next Morning

You woke first. Jake’s chest was warm against your back, his breathing deep and even. Your heart thudded as you took in the view—the faint scruff on his jaw, the bare skin of his shoulder where the blanket had slipped, the way he looked peaceful in a way you rarely saw him.

And it scared you how badly you wanted this.

Wanted him.

You slipped out of his grasp carefully, feet cold against the tile floor. You didn’t go far—just into the hallway, where the reality of morning light felt like a slap.

Because what now?

What happened after the kiss? After the almosts?

You barely had time to think before the door cracked behind you and Jake stepped out, still shirtless, hair a rumpled mess, sleep in his eyes.

He squinted at you. “You ran off.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “Just needed a minute.”

Jake nodded slowly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know. This feels real.”

“It is.”

You looked up at him, finally voicing the fear that had been gnawing at your edges all night. “And if we ruin it?”

Jake reached out, hand curling gently around yours. “Then we rebuild it. Together.”

You stared at him.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like running.

You just nodded, fingers tightening around his.

The silence in your room wasn’t heavy—it was soft. Comforting. Like the kind that settles after a storm has passed.

Jake sat at the edge of your bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. His shoulders rose and fell slowly, like he was trying to find the words before he lost his nerve.

You stood by the window, arms wrapped around yourself, watching the morning sun wash over the base. You could still feel his warmth on your skin, the imprint of him in your bed, but the weight in the air wasn’t about lust anymore.

It was about everything that came after.

“I’ve loved you since before Vegas,” Jake said finally, voice low but steady.

You turned slowly, heart stumbling at the raw honesty in his tone.

He looked up at you then, eyes clearer than you’d ever seen them. “I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d run. I thought I’d screw it up. Hell, maybe I still will. But I’m tired of pretending that night was just a fluke. It wasn’t. You weren’t.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I didn’t say anything either,” you admitted. “I thought if I gave it time, the feeling would go away.”

Jake gave a bitter smile. “Did it?”

“No,” you whispered. “It got worse.”

That admission cracked something open. He stood, closing the space between you slowly, giving you time to back away—but you didn’t. His hands found your waist, grounding you, like he needed to touch you just to be sure this was real.

“I never knew how to want something that wasn’t flying,” he said quietly. “But then you came along. And suddenly it wasn’t the sky I was chasing anymore.”

You leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin and warmth and something safer than anything you’d known in years.

“I’m scared, Jake,” you confessed.

“I am too,” he said. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”

⸻

Weeks Later

It didn’t happen overnight. The relationship took root in quiet moments—late-night dinners in the mess hall, his hand on your knee during briefings, your voice in his ear after a rough flight.

People noticed. Of course they did.

Hangman—Jake Seresin—wasn’t exactly subtle.

But neither of you cared anymore.

You weren’t sneaking around. You weren’t hiding. You were building.

One night, months into the new normal, you came home to find him sitting on the floor of your apartment, back against the couch, guitar in his lap. He looked up as you entered, that soft smile he saved just for you already tugging at his mouth.

“Playin’ for someone?” you asked, dropping your keys and toeing off your boots.

Jake shook his head. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime,” you teased, flopping down beside him.

He strummed once—lightly, almost absentminded. Then he set the guitar aside and pulled you between his legs, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about the future,” he said, fingers curling lightly over your ribs. “About flying. About us.”

Your pulse kicked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “I want to build something real with you. Something that doesn’t depend on where we’re stationed or who’s deploying next. I want… I want a home.”

You turned in his arms, meeting his eyes.

Jake Seresin wasn’t perfect. He was proud and reckless and had a tendency to push buttons just to see if he could. But he showed up. Over and over again.

You reached up and touched his cheek. “Then let’s build it.”

⸻

Six Months Later

You stood in front of a mirror, heart hammering, smoothing down the simple white satin of your dress.

It wasn’t a traditional ceremony. No frills. No pews. Just you, Jake, and a few of your closest people standing under the open sky on a patch of coastal grass where you’d once watched him fly.

Phoenix zipped the back of your dress and gave your shoulders a squeeze. “You ready, Mrs. Seresin?”

You smiled, nerves twisting into something brighter. “I think I’ve been ready for him since Vegas.”

She grinned and pulled you into a hug. “Go knock him dead.”

⸻

Outside, Jake stood with his hands in his pockets, looking unfairly good in his dress whites. His eyes found you the second you stepped into view, and the world seemed to fall away.

No more fear. No more maybe. No more almost.

Just this.

Just him.

Just forever.

⸻

The Wedding

Jake had never looked at anything the way he looked at you walking toward him—like you were something sacred. Something his heart recognized before his mind could name it.

You wore no veil. No train. Just a simple white dress and a quiet, tearful smile that knocked the air from his lungs.

He was shaking when you took his hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, barely holding it together.

Jake chuckled, eyes shining. “Hey, darlin’. You look like a damn dream.”

The officiant spoke, but neither of you really heard it. Your whole world was wrapped up in each other—in the way your fingers interlaced like you were two puzzle pieces meant to fit, and in the unspoken vows already written into the way you looked at each other.

When it came time for the real vows, Jake took a breath, steadied himself, and began.

“I thought I was gonna fly solo for the rest of my life,” he said, voice thick. “That was the plan—stay untouchable, never get too close, always leave the door cracked so I could get out easy. Then you crashed through every wall I had without asking permission.”

You smiled, tears falling freely now.

“I never expected to fall in love with someone who’d hold my ego in check, challenge me, and still believe in me when I didn’t deserve it. But I did. And I do. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. You’re my home. And I’m never leaving it.”

You exhaled a shaky breath and laughed softly, wiping your cheeks.

Your vows came slower, broken up by emotion.

“I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to keep people at arm’s length, scared that if I let someone in, they’d leave or change or ruin the peace I finally found. But then you… you came in loud, all charm and cockiness, and somehow underneath it all was this quiet, steady strength I didn’t expect.”

Jake’s eyes never left yours. Not once.

“You made me feel safe to be messy. To be real. And you loved me not in spite of the hard parts—but because of them. I don’t want perfection with you. I want mornings and late-night talks and hard days we get through together. I want forever with you, Jake.”

Neither of you remembered the exact words the officiant said after that, only that you were suddenly being told to kiss your husband.

And Jake didn’t wait.

His hands cupped your face like you were fragile, like this moment would break if he rushed it—and he kissed you slowly, reverently. The world fell away again, and this time, it stayed gone.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he whispered.

“Good,” you said. “I’ve got plans for us.”

⸻

Later That Night

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in navy and soft gold. You were barefoot on a porch at the little beachside inn you’d chosen for your quiet honeymoon. Waves crashed gently below.

Jake stepped out behind you, arms slipping around your waist, lips brushing your neck.

“Mrs. Seresin,” he murmured, teasing. “That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

You leaned into him, laughing softly. “You’ll survive.”

His hands slid down your arms, turning you to face him. You looked up at him in the dark—still Jake, still cocky and complicated and loyal to the bone. But softer now, too. Centered.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “I want all of it with you.”

You smiled and took his hand, leading him back inside, where candles flickered low and the air was full of quiet promise.

“You know what I’m gonna love most about being married to you?”

“Hm?” you asked, sleepy and warm against him.

“That every time I fly, I get to come home to you.”

Your heart ached in the best way.

“You always have,” you whispered. “Even before today.”

Jake kissed your forehead and pulled you close. “I’ll never stop choosing you.”

Your wedding night was a slow burn of desire, the kind that starts in your toes and creeps up through your body until you’re trembling with need. You’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to truly be alone with him, and now that it was here, you couldn’t quite believe it.

Jake stood in front of you, his tuxedo abandoned in favor of a simple white shirt and black trousers. His eyes were dark with hunger as he watched you, drinking in the sight of you in your lacy white lingerie. You felt a shiver run down your spine under his gaze, anticipation building in your core.

He reached for you then, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you close. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension coiled in his muscles.

“I’ve been dreaming about this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “About peeling this lace off you, about tasting every inch of your skin.”

You whimpered, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Jake,” you breathed. “Please.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His mouth crashed down on yours, hot and demanding, as his hands began to explore your body. You moaned into the kiss, arching into his touch, desperate for more.

Jake broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he growled. “So perfect.”

His hands found the clasp of your bra, undoing it with practiced ease. The lace fell away, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly turned on.

Jake’s mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking and licking while his fingers pinched and rolled the other. The sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Jake,” you gasped. “Oh god, that feels so good.”

He didn’t stop, his mouth working your breasts until you were a writhing mess beneath him. Then, slowly, torturously, he began to kiss his way down your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel as he went.

By the time he reached the edge of your panties, you were trembling with need. Jake could see it, could feel it in the way your thighs quivered beneath his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, nipping at the lace. “So wet for me already.”

You whimpered, pushing your hips up towards his mouth. “Please,” you begged. “I need you.”

Jake didn’t make you wait any longer. With one swift movement, he tore your panties away, leaving you completely bare before him. His breath ghosted over your slick folds, and you nearly came undone right then and there.

“Hangman,” you moaned, using his call sign in a way you never had before. It seemed fitting, somehow, for this moment when you were both so exposed, so vulnerable.

His tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time. You cried out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure surged through you. Jake growled against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs as he devoured you.

It didn’t take long for him to find your clit, sucking it into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside you. You were tight, hot, and so fucking wet for him. Jake’s cock throbbed at the feel of you clenching around his fingers, but he forced himself to focus on you, on bringing you to the edge.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “Let me taste you.”

His words, combined with the relentless movement of his fingers and the suction of his mouth, sent you spiraling over the edge. You came hard, crying out his name as your body shook with the force of your orgasm.

Jake didn’t stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were begging him to stop, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. Only then did he relent, pulling back to look up at you with dark, hooded eyes.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing his way back up your body. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a deep, hungry kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only made you hotter, needier.

“My turn,” you whispered against his lips, pushing him onto his back.

Jake raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this bold side of you. “Whatever you want, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, a slow, seductive curve of your lips. Then, with deliberate slowness, you began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest inch by tantalizing inch. Jake watched you, his breathing growing heavier as you worked your way down to his waistband.

Once the shirt was gone, you turned your attention to his trousers, undoing them with deft fingers. Jake lifted his hips to help you, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

You didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath. As soon as his pants were out of the way, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down, freeing his erection.

Jake groaned at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, your breasts swaying gently as you moved. He reached for you, but you shook your head, pressing his hands back against the bed.

“Not yet,” you said, your voice a sultry purr. “This is my time.”

Jake nodded, though his hips jerked involuntarily at the sound of your voice, at the sight of your pink tongue darting out to wet your lips.

You leaned down, your breath fanning over the head of his cock. Jake’s whole body tensed in anticipation, his fingers curling into the sheets.

The first touch of your lips was almost too much. Jake’s hips surged up, seeking more of your mouth, but you held him down, keeping control.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Your mouth feels incredible.”

You didn’t respond, too focused on the task at hand. You took him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length, your hand stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Jake was losing it, his hips moving in time with your strokes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Darlin’,” he panted. “You gotta stop. I’m gonna come.”

You pulled back then, releasing him with a soft pop. “Not yet,” you whispered, straddling his waist. “I want to come with you.”

Jake’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you sank down onto his cock. You were so wet, so ready for him, that you took him all in one smooth motion, both of you crying out at the sensation.

“God,” Jake gritted out, his fingers digging into your skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

You began to move then, rising up and sinking back down, setting a slow, torturous pace. Jake’s hands guided your hips, helping you find the perfect rhythm.

With each thrust, you could feel him hitting deeper, touching places inside you that made you see stars.

It didn’t take long before you were both on the edge, bodies straining together, sweat-slicked skin sliding against skin. Jake reached between you, his thumb finding your clit as you rode him.

“Come with me,” he growled, his hips snapping up to meet yours. “Now.”

The combination of his cock filling you and his thumb on your clit was too much. You came with a scream, your body clamping down on his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Jake followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his release.

You collapsed on top of him then, both of you breathing heavily, hearts racing. Jake’s arms came around you, holding you close as you came down from the high.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That was…”

You nodded against his chest. “Yeah.”

Jake chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest. “I think we’re gonna have a really great marriage.”

⸻

Six Months Later

The apartment was a little cramped, the baby room was still a work in progress, and Jake had nearly burned dinner trying to multitask, but it didn’t matter.

He stood in the kitchen, holding you from behind as you stared at the ultrasound picture on the fridge, your hand resting over his.

“I still can’t believe we made a human,” he muttered, grinning into your hair.

“I can,” you teased. “I mean, we had a lot of practice.”

Jake chuckled and kissed your temple. “You sure you’re okay with me still flying?”

You turned in his arms, grounding him with your eyes. “I married a pilot. I knew what I was signing up for. As long as you keep coming home, we’re good.”

He cupped your cheek, gaze soft. “Always.”

⸻

Epilogue: Years Later

The sky above the backyard was streaked with pink and orange. A little girl with green eyes and your nose was running barefoot through the grass, giggling as Jake chased after her, pretending to be a monster.

You watched from the porch, pregnant with your second, heart full to the brim.

Jake scooped your daughter into his arms, twirling her until she shrieked with delight.

Then he looked at you—the same way he had on your wedding day, and every day since. Like you were everything.

And you were.

He came over, breathless, flushed from laughing, and kissed you slow.

“Still flying high, Hangman?” you teased.

He rested his forehead against yours. “Only when I’m with you, darlin’.”

The end.