#she strikes me as someone who likes to know

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁  ! ⺌ . ⸺  NPE! 

PART ONE! | Volume I

Synopsis; "So, you’re an alien, huh?" Yeah, sure, maybe you’re a little... different. But honestly, who isn’t? The earthlings think you’re weird? Nope. It’s just that they’re a bunch of clueless humans, totally missing the point. You, on the other hand, have a higher calling. A mission to discover the meaning of life—you know, the whole ‘why am I here, and what am I supposed to be doing’ thing. Simple, right?

Except, uh... there’s a small hiccup. You don’t even know what species you are, because someone forgot to leave the alien instruction manual. Oops. So, while you’re out there doing some random side gig (you know, the one that might help you find out more about your roots and, oh yeah, pay the rent), you accidentally get tangled up in the lives of two earthlings.

Of course, you swear to protect them because, well, you kind of owe them. Maybe. Or maybe not. Who’s to say? Either way, your purpose might get a little... distracted. But hey, priorities, right?

Pairing ── Dan Da Dan x Alien! Fem/Neutral? Reader.

Content. MDNI ── Manga Spoilers, Violence/Death, Blood, Invasion of Privacy, Invasion of Mind, Abduction, Kidnapping, Angst, Murder, Disturbing Content, Corruption, Isolation,Paranoia, Manipulation, Unintended Time Travel Mishaps, Alien Romance Tropes, Sudden Existential Crises, Unexplained Tentacle Appearances, Turbo Granny's Sass, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gravity-Defying Physics, Psychic Overload, Ambiguous Yōkai Allegiances, Excessive Hair-Related Powers, Sudden Dance Battles in Crisis, Outdated Alien Fashion Choices, Malfunctioning Spacecraft Humor, Intense Staring Contests, Time-Dilated Cliffhangers, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Polyamory, LGBTQ+ Content, ¿Gender-fluid or Non-binary Character? (Not with respect to pronouns, but to their genitals xd), Unconventional Relationship Dynamics, Consent Issues in Alien Interactions, Mind-altering Love Spells, Extreme Jealousy, Existential Dilemmas on Love and Identity, Mind-Controlling Aliens.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— Oh my god, how did this happen 😱 sorry to everyone (@flwes & @redberrysstuff) who saw the incomplete story, I feel SO embarrassed. Ugh, I swear, autocorrect and my clumsiness are going to kill me one of these days. :"(( But seriously, I promise the full version is coming, just give me a second to fix it.

"Idiot! Moron! Squid! Tuna!" Momo Ayase shouted from the ground, her face flushed with rage as she watched her now ex-boyfriend walk away with that annoying mix of guilt and annoyance in his eyes. "Never call me again!"

"Momo? Are you okay? Or should I sign up for the next round of sea insults?" asked a familiar voice behind her.

Momo turned around, still frowning, but the sight disarmed her a bit. There was Y/n Seigai, with that carefree energy that always seemed straight out of a movie. She wore a short plaid skirt and a white blouse that highlighted her figure, complemented by long socks and platform shoes with a puma print that screamed confidence. Her makeup was simple yet striking, enough to make anyone turn to look at her. And, as always, she had something in her hand: this time, a frozen yogurt popsicle that she licked absently as if nothing in the world could disturb her calm.

"Late again, huh?" Momo huffed, crossing her arms and standing up, her gaze as severe as a frustrated mother.

"What? Was that a 'thank you for coming to the rescue, Y/n'? Because if so, your tone needs a little work," Y/n replied with a cheeky smile, making an exaggerated gesture to offer her a lick of her popsicle. "Want some? Frozen yogurt cures broken hearts. It's science."

"I don't want your stupid popsicle, idiot! And stop changing the subject! You're late to school again! Do you know how many times I've been asked why you can't arrive on time? I feel like your babysitter!"

Y/n theatrically sighed, placing a hand on her chest as if Momo had wounded her pride. "Oh, Momo. Always so responsible, so punctual... except when you decide to sleep in on Mondays. Remember last Monday? Because I do; you were running out with a toast in your mouth."

Momo opened her mouth to retort but quickly shut it, blushing a little. "That was different! And don’t change the subject!"

"Okay, okay, sorry, mom," Y/n said with a mischievous smile, raising her hands in a sign of surrender. "But in my defense, it's not my fault that the coffee at that corner is so good it makes me lose track of time."

"You have a watch on your wrist, Y/n! And a phone with alarms! ALARMS!"

"Well, my alarms and I have a complicated relationship..." Y/n murmured as she took another lick of the popsicle.

Momo couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh, although her lips curled slightly into a smile. That was the dynamic with Y/n: serious and responsible when necessary but with enough chaotic moments to drive her crazy. And even though sometimes she wanted to give her a good lecture, she couldn't deny that Y/n always knew how to lift her spirits, even on days like today.

"Come on, Momo. Let's get to class. I promise we'll make it before the bell rings... probably," Y/n said, offering her the popsicle as a peace gesture.

"Probably isn’t good enough! And I don’t want your silly popsicle," Momo shot back, but she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as they started walking together.

As they crossed the school gates, Momo and Y/n couldn’t help but draw attention. They were, without a doubt, a striking pair: Momo, with her natural charisma and perfectly polished gyaru style, walked with purpose while continuing to rant about her now ex-boyfriend; Y/n, on the other hand, exuded a magnetic nonchalance, her skirt swaying with each step and a yogurt popsicle still in her hand, as if school were just another runway in her day.

"And then he has the nerve to say I’m playing hard to get! Can you believe it?" Momo gestured dramatically, as if still arguing with her ex.

"Mm-hmm," Y/n murmured, not stopping her slow lick of the popsicle. "Sounds like someone needs a 'How Not to Be an Idiot' manual. Should I mail him one?"

"Not even that! He’d probably lose it, like he loses all common sense," Momo shot back, rolling her eyes.

As they made their way down the hallway, students stepped aside to let them pass—some admiring their style, others whispering comments among themselves. Momo was so engrossed in her complaints she barely noticed the stares. Y/n, however, threw the occasional wink or offered a carefree smile, as if she were used to being the center of attention.

"Can you stop flirting with the entire hallway? I’m having a crisis here!" Momo snapped, giving her a light nudge.

"Flirting? I’m just being friendly. But if you want all my attention, Momo, you only have to ask," Y/n replied with a mischievous grin.

"God, you’re unbearable!"

Finally, they reached their classroom, where their other two friends, Miko and Muko, were waiting.

Miko was seated by the window, her small bow perfectly in place and her uniform impeccable, though always with her personal touch. Her beige sweater and loosely tied ribbon gave her a relaxed vibe, but her bright smile showed she was ready for a day full of energy.

Muko, in contrast, was impossible to ignore. Her tan skin stood out against her blonde hair styled into pigtails, and the manba makeup she wore proudly added a bold edge to her look. Her uniform followed the same pattern as the other girls', but on her, everything seemed a bit more daring—from the slightly oversized sweater to the way her loose socks fell perfectly over her sandals.

"Wow! Took you long enough," Miko said with a smile as she saw them walk in. "I thought you’d actually be on time today."

"Tell that to Miss 'Coffee is More Important Than Punctuality,'" Momo replied, giving Y/n an accusatory look.

"Me? I arrived just in time to make this spectacular entrance," Y/n said, spinning dramatically before flopping into her seat.

"Jealous, Miko?" Muko chimed in as she adjusted one of her pigtails. "They walk in, and the whole hallway stares. People only look at us when Miko shouts something ridiculous."

"Hey! That was one time," Miko retorted, crossing her arms with feigned indignation.

Momo let out a sigh, but a smile began to form on her lips. Being with them was always like this: chaotic, fun, and somehow reassuring.

"Alright, girls, now that we’re all here, I need advice. How do you get over an idiot who just wants you to pay for everything and only cares about sleeping with you?"

"Easy," Y/n said, raising her popsicle as if it were a trophy. "You get over him by being yourself: brighter, more fabulous, and completely out of his league. Like always, Momo."

"Amen," added Muko, lifting her phone for a quick selfie with Miko, who automatically struck a pose.

Momo rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. Yes, her group was a mess in its own way, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

"Okay, seriously, what happened? Why are you so upset? We know it’s not because of Y/n, because when you’re mad at her, you yell louder than a megaphone," Miko said, raising an eyebrow with that teasing attitude she always had when she wanted to get under Momo’s skin.

Momo let out a heavy sigh and flopped onto the desk. "Nothing... that idiot dumped me, and then I started insulting him... using fish names."

Y/n, who was lounging back in her chair with her feet on the desk as if she were at home, couldn’t hold back a laugh. "Fish names. Like ‘Tuna’ and ‘Squid’. Because I’m sure that hurt his feelings a lot. Wow, Momo, terrifying. Do you really think that’s going to change his mind?"

"Ha, I’m dying," Muko said, testing a bit of her makeup while laughing. "Fish names aren’t insults, Momo. What were you expecting, ‘Shark’ or ‘Piranha’? Now those might be scary!"

Momo frowned, looking at her friends as if they were aliens. "You’re supposed to comfort me! He was my first boyfriend! My first, girls!" Momo waved her hands dramatically, as if she had lost something truly valuable.

Muko looked at her with a mix of sympathy and exasperation. "We told you to forget about him, Momo. It was obvious he wasn’t worth it."

Y/n nodded with mock seriousness, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement. "Yeah, can you remind me what was supposed to be so great about him? Was it the guy who always wore shirts two sizes too small? Or was it his talent for making you feel bad every time you talked about your dreams?"

"It’s just... he looked like Ken Takakura," Momo replied, as if it were an irrefutable justification, throwing her hands up as if there were nothing more to say.

The three friends sighed in unison, a sound so synchronized it could have been rehearsed.

"There she goes again..." Muko muttered, shaking her head and placing a hand on her forehead in a dramatic pose.

"Ugh, here we go," Miko said, glancing at Y/n and raising an eyebrow. "The story of the guy who ‘looked like’ Ken Takakura. Momo, are you sure you don’t have a poster of him at home?"

"She doesn’t just have a poster, let me tell you," Y/n said, remembering the time she stayed over at Momo’s house while her grandmother was away for a few days.

Y/n, who had just finished her popsicle and was now grinning mockingly at the others, tossed the stick out the window with perfect precision. "Here we go with your nonsense again, Momo. First it was ‘Ken Takakura,’ then it’ll be ‘Tom Cruise,’ and next you’ll tell me you fell for some guy who looks like an anime character. Stop idealizing guys, seriously."

Momo shot her a glare. "It’s not the same, Y/n! Ken Takakura is an icon, a real man!"

"Yeah, a movie man probably under contract with boredom, because guys like him don’t exist in real life," Y/n said, striking a dramatic pose as she crossed her arms.

Momo shrugged. "I don’t know what it is about him… but there’s something, I swear."

"What he has is that he’s in movies, not real life," Miko replied with a somewhat philosophical tone, as if she’d just imparted a profound truth about reality.

"So what, huh!? I like tough guys, like Ken Takakura!" Momo shouted, raising her hand as if she’d just made a worldwide announcement about her love for cinematic men.

Miko and Muko exchanged glances and, with almost perfect synchronization, replied, "Momo, we’ve got a surprise for you… those men are extinct."

Momo immediately dropped her head, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her. Her shoulders slumped, and her smile vanished in an instant. "What? Extinct? That can’t be true!" she muttered, as if she’d just taken a direct hit to the heart.

"Sorry, Momo," Miko said with a mischievous smile. "Men like that don’t exist anymore. All we’ve got now are guys in sweatpants with cat wallpapers on their phones."

Momo let out a deep sigh, an exaggerated expression of sorrow crossing her face. "So what?! What am I supposed to do with my life? Settle for guys who don’t even know what a good hairstyle is?!"

With the theatrics worthy of a telenovela star, Momo stood from her seat, leaving the others watching as she exited the classroom as if she’d just lost the most important battle of her life.

"Did what we said hurt her feelings?" Miko asked, a faint smile on her face, though she already knew the answer.

"No," Y/n replied, standing up without looking back, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and concern. "It hurt because it’s true."

Momo, on the verge of stepping into the hallway, didn’t notice Y/n following her. As Y/n caught up, she saw Momo walking with slumped shoulders, as if she were on a farewell mission for her love life.

Y/n walked up to her side and, with a playful smile, nudged her shoulder lightly. "Come on, Momo, don’t be like that. There are still guys out there who aren’t complete disasters."

Momo gave her a sad look. "I don’t know, Y/n. Maybe tough guys are just a fantasy. Like Ken Takakura. A legend of the past!"

"Well, if you ask me, the real tough guy is standing right here!" Y/n said, pointing a thumb at herself with a cheeky grin. "Forgot about us? We’re the tough ones now."

Momo glanced at her sideways, a flicker of humor returning to her eyes. "The problem is I don’t have time for girls who make bad jokes."

Y/n followed her, chuckling softly. "I’m the best company you could ask for, and I’ll prove it!"

The two walked down the hallway, leaving the classroom behind, Momo still a little down but starting to relax, with Y/n beside her as always—joking, stylish, and promising that there was always something better than a movie fantasy.

"Let’s go, Momo," Y/n said with a sly smile. "Tough guys may not exist anymore, but we’re unstoppable!"

Momo couldn’t help but smile, even if just a little. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad after all.

As Momo and Y/n passed by the nearest classroom, they couldn’t help but notice a group of boys throwing paper balls at a smaller, scrawnier boy with a hairstyle clearly modeled after Nobita from Doraemon.

Momo frowned immediately, spotting the bullying behavior. Y/n tensed beside her. Both of them hated bullies, and they weren’t about to stand by and do nothing.

One of the boys, grinning stupidly, picked up a paper ball and said loudly, "Stick a magnet in it! That’s gotta hurt!"

As he prepared to throw it, now with a magnet inside, a shadow loomed over him. Turning around, he found Momo sitting in front of him, her expression unimpressed. Behind him, Y/n stood with her arms crossed, her gaze so intense it could’ve melted anything in its path.

"Hey," Momo asked, looking at the boy with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. "What are you reading?"

"Uh… this…" the boy stammered, glancing nervously between the bullies and the girls.

The boys throwing the paper balls didn’t seem to realize what was happening. They turned back to their antics, ignoring the two girls who weren’t about to stay quiet.

Momo quickly stood up, shooting the bullies one last look. "What a bunch of idiots," she said, rolling her eyes. "It’s like this world is full of losers."

Y/n sighed, observing the chaos with a smile that hid something deeper. She was about to leave with Momo until her eyes caught the title of the magazine the boy was reading.

"The Occult," she read aloud, raising an intrigued eyebrow and smiling faintly. "Interesting…" she murmured before stepping toward Momo, leaving the minor chaos of the classroom behind.

"Come on, Momo," Y/n teased as she walked alongside her. "You look like you just had to pay taxes or something. Relax."

"You’d feel the same way if you were surrounded by idiots!" Momo snapped, crossing her arms indignantly.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice thundered behind them:

"MOMO AYASE! Y/N SEIGAI!"

"Huh? Now what?" Momo said, turning around with a frown.

It was the nerd from earlier. He was running toward them with all his might, gasping for breath as if he’d just escaped a marathon. When he reached them, he stopped so abruptly he almost fell over.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he shouted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"What?" Y/n asked, visibly confused, glancing at Momo with a raised eyebrow.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he repeated, louder this time, with an oddly intense conviction. "That’s the only reason someone like you would talk to someone like me!"

Momo blinked slowly and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "You’ve already said that. Can you switch up your dialogue? You sound like a broken record."

Y/n put a hand to her face, muttering, "Have you lost your mind? Where did you even get that crazy idea?"

The boy looked at them with desperate eyes, as if he was about to reveal some cosmic secret. "I’m talking about this!" he exclaimed, pulling something out as if presenting irrefutable proof.

Both girls tilted their heads simultaneously, trying to figure out what he was holding.

"Is that... a magazine?" Momo asked, squinting.

"Yes! A limited edition of The Occult! I know you’re into this because I saw how you looked at it earlier! President Obama has already been to Mars! This is the full story of the Pegasus Project! You’re into the paranormal!"

Momo closed her eyes and ran a hand over her forehead, clearly trying to summon some patience. "Look, genius, we’re not planning to be your best friends or start a paranormal book club with you. We don’t believe in UFOs or aliens."

"They’re not UFOs, they’re UAPs! Unidentified Aerial Phenomena!" the boy yelled enthusiastically, holding up the magazine like it was some sacred manifesto.

He began talking again, with a passion that seemed endless. Y/n listened with a half-smile, entertained by the chaos he brought with him. But soon, she felt Momo’s hand squeeze hers—a clear sign: Momo was about to lose her temper.

And then, she exploded.

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?! MY HEART’S BEEN BROKEN, AND I’M NOT IN THE MOOD! AND YOU’RE SO ANNOYING WITH YOUR NERD STORIES THAT NOBODY CARES ABOUT, OKAY?! THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS!"

The boy froze, his mouth open and his eyes wide like saucers. Even Y/n, who was used to Momo’s outbursts, raised an eyebrow. "Ouch. Low blow," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Still fuming like a volcano, Momo pointed at the boy. "Don’t even think about talking to us again! Let’s go, Y/n!"

But Y/n didn’t move. She looked at the boy with some pity, her eyes softening. She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey... she didn’t mean it, okay? She’s upset because she had a bad day. Don’t take it to heart," she said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

Momo stopped and turned around, clearly picking up on Y/n’s accusatory tone even though she hadn’t said anything else. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine! I’m sorry, dude! I went too far. Happy now?"

She picked up the magazine that had fallen to the floor and handed it back to the boy, though her lips were still pursed. "But don’t get excited. I don’t believe in aliens. I’m more into ghosts and spirits, got it?"

Out of nowhere, the boy started laughing—not a polite chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh that echoed down the hallway.

"Don’t tell me you actually believe in spirits," he said, still laughing as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Momo froze, her frown deeper than ever. "Are you making fun of me?!" she shouted, stepping toward him with clenched fists.

Before anyone could react, the two launched into a heated argument. Momo insisted that spirits were real, while the boy passionately defended his UAPs. Y/n, stuck between them like a referee in a wrestling match, glanced toward the hallway. There stood Miko and Muko, watching the scene with amused smiles as they whispered to each other.

"These two are hopeless," Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling her patience wear thin.

Finally, she snapped.

"ENOUGH! YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!" she yelled, pushing them apart with a hand on each shoulder. Her voice was so loud that even Miko and Muko stopped laughing to peek in with curiosity.

"Here’s the deal," Y/n said, crossing her arms authoritatively. "If Momo proves that spirits exist, you’ll become her personal errand boy. But if you prove that UFOs—sorry, UAPs—are real, then she’ll be your errand girl."

Both of them stared at her in disbelief.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" they shouted in unison, their faces a mix of shock and panic.

Y/n smirked, her tone daring as if she’d just announced the rules of a reality show. "It’s a bet. Take it or leave it."

Momo opened her mouth to protest but then glanced at the boy with a competitive glint in her eyes. "Errand boy, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad."

The boy blinked, clearly trying to process what had just happened. Finally, he raised his chin, determined. "Fine! But get ready to carry my stuff when I win."

Momo narrowed her eyes. "Me? Carry your stuff? Dream on, loser!"

From the hallway, Miko and Muko started laughing again.

"This is gonna be good," Miko said.

"I’m definitely not missing this," Muko added.

Y/n sighed, looking at the two challengers with exhaustion. "Great, now you’re both committed. But if you waste my time, I swear both of you will end up being my errand boys!"

They both nodded, though they still exchanged defiant glares. Y/n couldn’t help but smile. This was either going to be very interesting… or completely chaotic.

⊹ ・・───・・・・───・・ ⊹

"What is this place?! I’M GONNA DIE OF FEAR!" screamed Momo, clinging to you like a lifeline in the middle of the ocean. Her grip was so tight that you seriously considered whether you’d pass out from lack of air or from the creepy atmosphere of the hospital.

"Relax, Momo," you sighed, trying to wiggle free while scanning the surroundings. Nagi University Hospital didn’t disappoint: graffiti-covered walls, broken windows, dark hallways, and that classic feeling that something was watching you from the shadows. "Though… yeah, this place is pretty unsettling."

"UNSETTLING?! THIS IS STRAIGHT OUT OF A HORROR MOVIE!" Momo shrieked, practically climbing on top of you.

On the other end of the phone, the guy sounded thrilled. "Stop whining! Nagi Hospital is one of the prime spots for UFO sightings! They say if you’re on the rooftop, you get abducted!"

"What’s abduction?" Momo whispered in your ear.

"It’s when aliens kidnap you and experiment on your body," you whispered back.

"Hey, genius, why the rooftop?" you asked, frowning as you tried to keep Momo at a reasonable distance. "What does the rooftop have to do with UFOs?"

"Because UFOs can’t land in the basement, OBVIOUSLY!" he replied triumphantly, as if he’d just solved a universal mystery.

"Are you kidding me…? WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND BUILDS A HOSPITAL WHERE YOU GET ABDUCTED?!" shouted Momo, clearly on the verge of throwing the phone out the window.

"And who in their right mind goes willingly to an abandoned hospital for fun? Oh, wait... you two."

"THAT’S IT!" Momo yelled, red with indignation, and if you hadn’t stopped her, she probably would’ve smashed the phone against the nearest wall.

"Okay, okay, enough, both of you!" you interrupted, rubbing your temples. "Listen, Nobita of the UFO fandom, you focus on your tunnel and tell us if you see anything weird. We’ll try not to die or get abducted, deal?"

"Perfect! And record everything! This could change history!" he said excitedly, as if already drafting his speech for NASA.

"Sure, sure. If aliens take me, I’ll make sure to Facetime you," you muttered as Momo tugged at your arm.

"YOU GO FIRST! I’M NOT GOING ALONE!" Momo demanded, pointing at the dark hallway leading to the rusty elevator.

"Me first? I’d rather we just go home and call it a day. We’ve done enough for one evening."

Momo huffed but then crossed her arms and stared at the floor, thoughtful. "If we leave now, that idiot’s gonna laugh at us all week."

"What do you prefer? Him laughing at us, or us getting abducted? Because I know where my priorities lie, and aliens don’t make the top 10."

There was a brief silence as you both weighed your options. Finally, Momo sighed dramatically, like she’d just decided to climb a mountain. "Fine, but if anything weird happens, you handle it. I’m just gonna scream and run, deal?"

"I wouldn’t expect anything less from you," you replied with a tired smile as the two of you ventured into the dark hallway. The echo of your footsteps bounced off the empty walls, while the guy on the other end of the phone kept rambling about "electromagnetic phenomena and alien microwaves."

"By the way!" said the guy, as if he had just remembered something. "If you see strange lights, don’t get close. They’re a sign of imminent abduction."

"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "Anything else we should know before we get abducted?"

"Yeah, if you get abducted, ask them how they travel faster than light. I’m really interested in that!"

"WHAT KIND OF PSYCHOPATH THINKS ABOUT THAT AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!" Momo screamed, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh. At least the strange humor was helping to calm the terror a little.

"Hey, kid, let’s be honest... you’ve never seen a UFO in your life, have you?" Momo asked, crossing her arms and looking at him with a mix of disdain and curiosity.

The guy adjusted his glasses, clearly offended. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT REGRESSIVE HYPNOSIS IS?"

"DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" Momo snapped, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "I asked you something very simple."

He raised a finger, completely ignoring her while striking a dramatic pose. "THE QUESTION ISN’T WHETHER I’VE SEEN A UFO..."

"Uh-huh, sure," murmured Y/n, rolling their eyes.

"WHAT MATTERS ARE THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE THEORY!" he continued, in such a serious tone that it sounded like he was giving a lecture on astrophysics.

Momo sighed, clearly losing patience. "Again with your nonsense, oh my god. Don’t you ever get tired? Or do you recharge with solar batteries?"

"THIS ISN’T NONSENSE! IT'S SCIENCE! IT’S TRUE!" he protested, with an almost comical intensity.

"Yeah, sure. And how’s it going there, huh? Anything interesting besides your ‘theories’?" Momo said, looking around with feigned indifference as she tried to change the subject.

"I’VE ARRIVED... TOO SHY... SHY... TO THIS MYSTERIOUS PLACE..." the guy shouted on the phone, his voice echoing in the dark, damp tunnel. "WELL... NOW IT'S TIME TO PROVE IT!"

Momo frowned, not as convinced by his enthusiasm. "Please, do you really think this place is special? It’s all dark and super creepy!"

"YOU’RE SCARED! YOU KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE INTERNET, HAVEN’T YOU EVER SEEN A GHOST?!" the guy yelled, his voice strangely echoing in the tunnel.

"Not at all," Momo replied with a nervous laugh, though her gaze darkened a little.

"WHAT WAS THAT RANT ABOUT EARLIER?!" she shouted, pointing at the phone. "TAKE BACK EVERYTHING YOU SAID! How can you believe in spirits if you've never even seen one?"

"What's so strange about that?" Momo shot back, crossing her arms. She lowered her voice a bit before continuing: "I told you... my grandmother is a medium. She raised me because... well, because I don’t have parents."

There was a brief silence. Even the guy on the phone seemed to be lost for words. Y/n looked at Momo, noticing an expression they rarely saw on their friend: nostalgia mixed with sadness.

"I didn’t know..." murmured the guy on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Momo continued, trying to appear indifferent. "My parents died when I was little. So my grandmother took care of me. But of course, my grandmother wasn’t a normal person. She always talked about spirits, spells, energies. Before going to school, she’d make me do a ritual to protect me from ‘bad vibes’ or something like that. And if I didn’t do it, she’d get mad at me."

"And did you do it?" Y/n asked with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Momo sighed. "At first, I had no choice. But... it was horrible. The other kids would laugh at me. Even the guy I liked... one day he saw me doing one of those rituals and, well, he thought I was an idiot. From that moment on, he started avoiding me. It was the worst."

"That sounds tough," Y/n commented, with a more serious tone.

"Yeah, it was," Momo admitted, shrugging. "I got really angry with my grandmother for that. I think I even said things I shouldn’t have. I felt really alone. But... now that I think about it, it wasn’t so much the ritual that bothered me. It was seeing how they laughed at my family, how they didn’t understand what it meant to us."

"It must have been hard," Y/n said.

"It was," Momo repeated, looking down. "I didn’t regain trust in my grandmother until recently. I realized that, even though her ideas were strange, she did it because she wanted to protect me. And... well, it's all I have left of my family. So, even though it’s frustrating sometimes... I guess I understand her."

The guy on the other end of the phone cleared his throat, breaking the mood. "Well... I don’t know much about spirits, but your grandmother sounds... interesting."

Momo laughed a little. "That’s a polite way to put it. But yeah, she is."

"My grandmother..." Momo began, her gaze fixed on the darkness of the hospital, as if she were speaking more to herself than to anyone else. "Her work as a medium... I don’t know if it’s real. I’ve never seen a spirit. Never. I don’t even know if my grandmother can really perceive them. But you know something? I don’t care. Because, at the end of the day, she raised me alone. She accepted me as her family, even when I didn’t understand anything she did or said. And, in some way, I believe in her."

There was a silence in the group. Even the guy on the phone seemed to have fallen silent for a moment, as if Momo’s words had struck him.

"That’s why I believe in spirits," she continued. "Not because I’ve seen them, but because I believe in my grandmother. And that’s enough for me."

Y/n looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. It was rare to hear Momo speak so sentimentally, but somehow, the sincerity of her words hit like a punch to the chest.

"And you?" Momo asked, turning back to the phone. "Why do you believe in aliens, huh?"

"That... that’s different," the guy replied, somewhat uncomfortable. "You don’t have to see something to know it exists. There’s evidence, theories, data..."

Momo let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, sure. Evidence and theories. But tell me something, genius: have you ever seen an alien with your own eyes?"

"Well... no," he admitted, somewhat hesitantly.

"Then what makes you different from me? Why do you assume that yours is more real than mine?"

"Because it’s science," he quickly responded, defensively.

"Science?" Momo raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You call science looking at forums on the internet and reading conspiracy theories from people who’ve probably never left their basement?"

"It’s not the same!" he exclaimed, clearly frustrated.

Y/n decided to intervene before the conversation turned into an argument. "Okay, okay, both of you, calm down. Look, I think Momo has a point. But you do too, mysterious guy. At the end of the day, if you like something, you don’t need reasons to believe in it, right?"

They both fell silent, though their expressions showed they still had a lot to say.

"By the way," Momo added, slightly changing the subject, "you talk about aliens like you know everything about them, but... you have the voice of someone who doesn’t leave the house much, am I wrong?"

"What are you implying?" he asked, clearly offended.

"That you probably haven’t talked to another person in months, other than us on the phone," she replied with a teasing smile.

"That’s not true!"

"Uh-huh, sure."

Y/n chuckled softly while observing their dynamic. Even though they argued constantly, there was something strangely entertaining about their interactions.

"Anyway," Momo said, returning to the previous topic, "I don’t know if aliens exist, but one thing I’m sure of: we don’t need evidence to believe in what matters to us. That includes my grandmother... and I guess your aliens too."

"I guess you’re right," the guy admitted, in a somewhat resigned tone.

"Of course I am," she responded confidently.

"Well," Y/n interrupted, looking around, "before we continue to philosophize, can we just focus on not dying here? Because this place still gives me the creeps."

"I'll second that motion," Momo added, adjusting her hair. "Come on, Y/n. And you, kiddo, keep looking for your evidence. We'll do our thing."

"Don't forget to record something if you see a spirit!" he replied.

"Sure, and if we see an alien, we'll introduce you to it in person," Momo replied sarcastically as she walked with Y/n into the darkness of the hospital.

The boy moved slowly through the tunnel, his flashlight wobbling with each step. The place was dark, damp, and had a strange smell, as if time had stopped there. The echoes of his footsteps made him think he wasn't alone, although he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Suddenly, something stopped him.  A few feet in front of him, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

It was an old woman, hunched over, dressed in worn clothes and a hat that looked like it was from another era. Her face was covered in deep wrinkles, but what stood out the most was her twisted, almost grotesque smile.

“What the…?” he muttered, trying to back away.

The old woman looked up, and her eyes shone with an unnatural intensity.

The old woman took a step forward. “I’ll let you suck my… tits,” she said with a twisted grimace, “if you let me suck your dick.”

“WHAT?!” the boy shouted, jumping back. His flashlight shook in his hand, and, in his panic, his phone almost slipped from his grasp.

“Momo! Y/n! It’s a ghost!” he shouted into the phone, although he didn’t know if they were still on the line.

From the other side of the tunnel, Momo looked up, irritated.  “What is this idiot saying now?”

The boy ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back. Each step echoed like a drum in the tunnel, and his panting was deafening.

“This can’t be happening!” he shouted, stumbling slightly but staying on his feet. “It’s just an old exit! YES, THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO BE!”

He reached his bike, parked at the entrance to the tunnel, and began to wobble as he tried to mount it. His hands shook so badly that he could barely grip the handlebars. “Come on, come on, come on!” he muttered frantically as he tried to pedal.

At that moment, the cell phone in his pocket rang again. It was Momo. With clumsy hands, he pulled out the phone and answered, still panting.

“AYASE! THAT THING IS FOLLOWING ME!”

“Don’t stop, you idiot!” Momo shouted from the other end of the line. “If it catches up with you, you’re done for!”  “It’s the curse of the Old Turbo! If you lose the race against her, she curses you!”

“WHAT!? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE!?”

“Because I didn’t think anyone would be idiotic enough to provoke her!”

The boy looked back as he pedaled, and his blood ran cold. The old woman wasn’t running… she was floating towards him, with terrifying speed.

“NOOOO!” he shouted, pedaling even harder.

“Don’t look back!” Momo exclaimed, almost hysterical. “Just keep pedaling!”

Suddenly, the tunnel was filled with a strange echo.

Momo, who was still shouting into the phone, noticed something strange. “Hey, wait a minute! Y/n?”

The silence on the other side made her stop. She turned her head and realized that Y/n was no longer there.

“Y/n!? Where are you?!”  he screamed, looking around in panic.

The boy’s cell phone began to crackle with static, and the call was abruptly cut off. He was now alone, the echo of the Turbo Old Lady’s laughter filling the tunnel as he pedaled madly towards the exit.

Momo, still holding his own cell phone, felt a chill run down his spine. “This isn’t right… Y/n? Answer!”

Momo made his way down the hallway, the light from his flashlight shaking with each step he took. The air seemed colder with each meter, and darkness enveloped everything around him. “Y/n? Are you there? Please answer…” he muttered, gripping his cell phone tightly.

Suddenly, a strange sound echoed in the distance. Footsteps.

Momo stopped dead in his tracks, his breathing quickening. “Boy? Is that you? Answer!”

But what emerged from the shadows wasn’t Y/n.  They were three tall figures, oddly proportioned. They wore human clothing: buttoned-up shirts with collars, tucked neatly into their pants. The pockets of their shirts were filled with small items, such as pens and a notebook sticking out of one of them. They wore perfectly fitted belts and shiny shoes, as if they had just left an office meeting.

Their heads, however, were anything but human.

They looked like grotesque humanoid masks: expressionless faces with motionless eyes and thin mouths that curved unnaturally. Their movements were stiff, but their eyes followed her with chilling precision.

Momo took a step back, her body trembling. “Who… what are you guys?” she stammered, trying to maintain her composure.

One of them took a step forward, his head tilting slightly, as if he were studying her. Momo didn’t wait any longer.  She turned on her heel and began running down the tunnel, quickly dialing Y/n’s number on her cell phone.

“Y/n! Please answer! There are some weird guys here and—!”

She couldn’t finish. One of the men appeared out of nowhere, blocking her way. Momo screamed and backed away, but she collided with something hard. She quickly turned around and found another one of them, who had appeared behind her without making the slightest noise.

“Leave me alone!” she screamed, throwing the flashlight at one of them in a desperate attempt to escape. The flashlight bounced harmlessly off his chest, and he showed no reaction.

Before she could do anything else, she felt an icy pressure on her arm. One of the men had grabbed her, his grip firm but inexplicably cold. “No, no, no! Let me go!”

The cell phone fell from her hands and hit the ground, illuminating for a moment the expressionless face of one of the men.  “Y/n! Help!” was the last thing she managed to scream before she was dragged into the darkness of the tunnel.

The phone was left there, illuminating an empty, cold hallway. In the distance, the echo of the men’s footsteps carrying her away could be heard, but soon, even that sound disappeared.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Momo opened her eyes in shock and confusion. The room was cold, with metallic walls illuminated by bluish lights, and in front of her were three disturbing-looking figures. With elongated heads, greyish skin and large, dark eyes, they looked like something straight out of a science fiction movie. One of them stepped forward and spoke in a monotonous, metallic voice:

"Greetings, human. We are Serpoians. We are called that because we come from the planet Serpo."

"Aliens?" Momo frowned in disbelief. Her mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. However, the evidence was undeniable: she was facing something that surpassed any logical explanation.

"Do not be afraid," another of the Serpoians continued with inhuman calm. "We are a peaceful species."

Momo, far from calming down, gritted her teeth. Her eyes frantically scanned the room as she tugged at the restraints holding her wrists.  “Peaceful? Nice guys don’t kidnap girls! Where are my clothes?”

One of the aliens pointed to a nearby table where his clothes lay, in tatters. “Your belongings were handled with care. The damage was… accidental.”

“Accidental?! This isn’t cheap! You’re going to pay for this! And I demand that you return me to my home right now!” he shouted, his voice filling the room.

Despite his protests, the Serpoians seemed immune to his fury. “Our species is entirely male,” one explained in a mechanical tone, as if he were reciting a lesson. “For millennia, we have reproduced through cloning, but this has led to the loss of our emotions and genetic diversity. We seek to regain our biological capabilities… using your genetic code.”

“My what?” Momo looked at them with a mix of confusion and disgust. “You’re completely insane! I will not be a part of your Frankenstein experiments!”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of a sliding door interrupted the tension. A tall, sleek figure strode into the room. His futuristic suit gleamed in the light, form-fitting and full of metallic detailing. His face was hidden behind a sleek helmet that reflected his surroundings like a liquid mirror. His presence was imposing.

“Where is my payment?” he demanded in a firm, authoritative voice.

The Serpoians turned to her. One of them held up a black suitcase. “Here you go. However, it is less than agreed. You delivered late.”

The woman crossed her arms, her posture conveying palpable disdain. “My mentor accepts no excuses. Neither do I. This deal was for a larger sum.”

“The delay justifies the reduction,” one of the aliens replied coldly.

The woman clicked her tongue, visibly upset. Meanwhile, Momo, though still terrified, could not take her eyes off the newcomer.  There was something in her voice, in the way she moved… Something that felt strangely familiar.

Her eyes widened as she connected the pieces. “Y/n?” she muttered, almost breathless.

The woman stopped. Slowly, she turned her head towards Momo. Although the helmet still obscured her face, the slight shift in her posture made her discomfort clear.

The room fell into a tense silence following Y/n’s words. Momo stared at her in disbelief, her lips trembling as tears threatened to fall.

“What are you doing here, Y/n? What is this? Why are you with them?” she asked with a mix of rage and desperation.

Y/n let out an audible sigh, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s not personal, Momo. It’s just work. You… were the target. I was paid to bring them what they needed. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Momo raised her voice, her tears finally overflowing. “Is that what I am to you? A job? We were supposed to be friends! I was supposed to be able to trust you!”

Y/n’s helmet reflected the cold lights of the room, hiding any emotion that might have been on her face. But the stiffness of her shoulders gave her away. She tried to stand her ground, looking at Momo from a distance. “This isn’t about you or us, Momo. It’s about… surviving. You don’t understand how my world works. No one survives without making sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices?! Is that what I am to you? One more sacrifice to keep you going?” Momo screamed, struggling against the restraints that kept her immobilized. “You were my friend, Y/n! I trusted you like no one else! I always thought you would understand me!”  But here you are, giving me away like I'm... like I'm a thing!”

Momo's words hit like a hammer. For a moment, Y/n stood still, unable to respond. Something in Momo's voice, in the broken sincerity of her words, touched her heart.

“Do you remember what you told me when you picked me up that night?” Momo continued between sobs. “You said that no matter what, you'd be there for me. That friends never betray each other. And look at you now... giving me away like I'm worthless.”

The tension in the room was almost palpable. Even the Serpoians fell silent, watching the confrontation.

Y/n lowered her head slightly, her voice sounding lower, almost unsure. “It's not that simple, Momo... I—”

“Don't give me excuses!” Momo interrupted her, her voice cracking. “Look at me! Tell me that all of this is worth it!  “Tell me you’re okay with what you’re doing!”

Y/n stood still for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Then, she took a step back, clenching her fists at her sides. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, barely audible. Without another word, she turned to the Serpoians. “The deal is done. I’m leaving.”

“Y/n!” Momo screamed, her voice filled with desperation. “Please! Don’t leave me here! Please don’t do this to me!”

But Y/n didn’t stop. She headed for the door without looking back, her bright figure disappearing into the dimness of the hallway. Just before the door closed, Momo, her voice cracking, let out one last scream that echoed in the silence:

“I would never have done this to you, Y/n! Never!”

The echo of her words hung in the air, and for an instant, Y/n stood on the other side of the door.  Her shoulders shook slightly, but she didn’t turn around. With a quick movement, she disappeared, leaving Momo alone, her sobs filling the room as the Serpoians turned their attention back to her.

“Why…?” Momo whispered through her tears. “Why did you do this to me?”

The Serpoians had run out of patience. One of them approached with cold, calculated movements, a strange humming sound emanating from his device.

“Let us prepare to extract the necessary organs. Your resistance is irrelevant,” one declared in a metallic voice.

Momo struggled uselessly against the restraints, her face drenched in tears. “Get away from me! You cannot do this!”

The alien lifted the probe, slowly bringing it closer to Momo. “We will begin the procedure now.”

Suddenly, the sound of a ringtone broke through the air, Momo’s mobile phone began to vibrate on the nearby table. The Serpoians paused, staring at it curiously.

“External interruptions are not acceptable,” one of them said, reaching out a hand to take the device.

Before she could touch it, the phone’s screen lit up in a deep red.  A deep vibration filled the room, and suddenly, a figure emerged from the screen: Y/n, holding a strangely designed pistol.

“Did I interrupt something again?” she asked in an icy tone, pointing directly at the Serpoians.

Beside her, staggering, appeared the boy possessed by Turbo Granny. His body was bent at impossible angles, and his eyes shone with a mix of fear and rage.

“Ayase!” Ken shouted, struggling to stay on his feet as Turbo Granny seemed to control his movements.

The aliens took a step back, observing the scene with a mix of shock and wariness.

“How did you get in here again, Agent Jean Jacket?” one of the Serpoians demanded, raising his hands in a defensive stance.

Y/n let out a dry laugh, though her gaze remained fixed on them. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

Momo, still trapped in the chair, stared at Y/n in disbelief and rage. “Now you decide to show up?! After everything you did?!”

“This doesn’t change anything, Momo,” Y/n said without looking at her, her voice strained. “This is still not personal.”

“Please don’t give me that again!” Momo screamed, tears sliding down her cheeks.

For an instant, Y/n hesitated, but didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled the trigger on her gun, firing a beam that struck one of the Serpoians, knocking it to the ground.

Turbo Granny, controlling Ken, let out a terrifying shriek and launched herself at another alien, biting it ferociously on the torso.

“Momo, take cover!” Y/n screamed as the remaining aliens began to respond to the attack, their suits glowing as they prepared to fight back.

“I can’t! I’m tied up!” Momo screamed in desperation, pulling at the straps with all her might.

Ken screamed in desperation, his body still fighting against Turbo Granny’s possession. Tears fell from his eyes as the words filled the room, his voice cracked from years of repressed pain.

“No matter how many times I called you, you never came!” He exclaimed, fists clenched, body tense under Granny’s control.  “There I was bullied by children, ignored by aliens… children paid me to beat them up!”

Ken’s words were desperate, but the fury and pain seemed to give him the strength to keep fighting. “My life sucked! And no one cared if I was alive or dead… but (Y/n) and Miss Ayase were the only ones who stood up for me! So get your filthy hands off her!”

At that moment, a spark of control seemed to surge within him. His body trembled, but his mind struggled to take back the reins, preparing to attack. Anger fueled him, his will finally regaining some strength.

Momo, from her position, screamed in desperation, unable to do anything but watch as the fight raged. “Hidden-kun! Do it! We need you!”

But amidst the chaos, the aliens began to move, aware of the growing threat Ken posed. One of them, still reeling from Turbo Granny’s impact, gave an order. “Get those humans! They won’t let this end well!”

The tension rose, but the worst seemed yet to come. A Serpoian, with cold, calculated movements, approached Momo, holding her by the shoulders tightly. “If you don’t give us what we ask for, you’ll regret it,” he said in a monotone voice, while his companion watched Ken, who was still trying to break free from Granny’s influence.

“Gross!” one of the other aliens commented, watching the scene become more and more chaotic.

Momo looked at Ken, fighting against his own body, knowing that control was fragile. “Ken! Don’t give up! You can do it!” he shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

“Enough of all this!”  The voice, firm and full of power, boomed through the room.

It was Y/n. Her presence was imposing, the helmet reflecting the light from the screens, but behind it, her expression was determined.

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Momo!” she said, as she raised her gun towards the Serpoians.

One of them tried to react, but a direct shot to his torso stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Hmm?”

Momo briefly looked away at Ken, but soon returned her focus to Turbo Granny, whose teeth were still piercing her calf.

“I’ll eat your cock!”

“What?” Y/n stepped back, horrified, but still trying to understand the situation.

“I… it’s not me! It’s Turbo Granny!”

“Are you really the only ones who can save me?” Momo thought, as her eyes focused on Ken. The situation was becoming more and more chaotic.

The alien and Momo watched the conflict in silence. Finally, the alien turned his gaze to Momo, noticing the chaos between the humans. “Now I will begin with the excitement.”

He extended his hand over Momo, who closed her eyes, feeling a growing pressure. Her face twisted in disgust as, for a moment, she thought she could no longer get out of this situation. It was then that, in her mind, an image from her childhood began to emerge: an important memory of her grandmother.

“Release your chi.”

“I don’t want to...”

Momo, as a little girl, found herself at the entrance of her grandmother’s house, long before she met you or Ken.

“The other kids always make fun of me for that. I look stupid.” Momo explained to the older woman, as her grandmother knelt in front of her with a calm smile.

“No, it’s not like that… When you release your chi, you will never get hurt or sick.  It will also help you keep evil away.” Grandma placed her hands gently on Momo’s shoulders, before taking her small hands firmly.

“Now, tense your abdominal muscles and imagine your chi rising from the top of your head.”

Momo, with effort, tried to follow the directions. Immediately, a painful memory flashed through her: the children laughing at her when she tried to do that pose.

“I hate it! I won’t do it again!” Momo screamed, shaking her head as her eyes widened in fury.

Her grandmother, still patient, held out her hand, asking for calm. “Momo! Wait!”

“I hate you, Grandma! You’re an imposter!”

That moment of anger made the memory flash through her mind in a distorted way. However, deep down, Momo knew she didn’t hate her grandmother. She only felt ashamed, something she was now beginning to understand.

Then, he began to imagine his grandmother’s words, remembering the technique she had taught him. As he visualized the flow of her chi, something inside him triggered, and, in that instant, the chair containing her broke under her energy.

The fight between Ken and Momo stopped at the same time, both of them staring in amazement as Momo began to levitate.

“What?! She never said she had psychic powers!” Ken exclaimed, his eyes wide as Momo floated.

With a slight bend in her legs, Momo raised her hands, looking at the two men around her in surprise. “I… I didn’t know I had them either.”

The alien who had tried to attack extended his hands towards Momo, but she, now fully focused, stared at him. “My psychokinesis is being repelled by a higher force. What’s going on? Maybe the human’s brain waves were overloaded, allowing her to access her chakra.”

Momo, fascinated by the piece of metal floating above her hand, turned her gaze towards the alien with a determined smile. “She’s not an impostor! My grandmother is a genuine medium! Thank you, Grandma!”

Meanwhile, the boy tried to bite Y/n and in the process, ripped off her helmet, revealing Y/n’s pastel blue skin and the dark blue glowing antennae emerging from her head.

She tried to defend herself, trying not to shoot him with her gun, but he scratched her skin, making fissures that healed automatically.

Momo stood up and, with her newly acquired powers, launched a powerful kick at the alien. However, he raised his arm and stopped her with force. “Now I have the power to face these monsters! And make them fly!” Momo shouted, full of determination.

With a last effort, she kicked the alien, sending him through the walls. The explosion that followed was deafening, and the lights in the room began to flicker violently.

Momo screamed as she felt her body collapse, as she watched the destruction falling around her. “We are inside a real UFO!” she exclaimed, surprised, looking around for Y/n and Ken, and finding them on the ground fighting, she was horrified. “(Y/n)! Occult-kun!”

Swiftly, Momo approached Granny Turbo. Suddenly, her body began to glow with a clear light, while her hair flowed wildly. At that moment, the curse that weighed on Ken disappeared.

Suddenly, the room darkened, turning red. Before them, Granny Turbo appeared, her gaze fixed and malicious. “Who the hell are you two?” she said, her voice cold and challenging.

Turbo Granny curled her fingers, causing Ken to pull away from Y/n, his body arching as a painful gurgle came from his lips. Momo watched, eyes wide, recoiling slightly as she saw how Ken was still under Granny’s control. “Granny is out of her body!” she exclaimed, alarmed. “But he is still under her curse!”

“This child belongs to me,” Turbo Granny said with a mocking smile. “As long as I have him, the curse will not be lifted.  I can't stay here for long, but if you want me to free him, go to the tunnel. If you want to fight me, come to me. Damn classless bitches!”

“Who are you calling a bitch, you filthy old woman?! Give him his penis back!” Momo shouted at the ghost that was walking away.

Y/n, seeing Momo so worried and determined, quickly approached her and, with unexpected strength, lifted her into her arms. Momo blushed at feeling so close to her, her cheeks turning red as she couldn't help but look down, avoiding Y/n's eyes, which were shining with determination.

“Don't worry! We're going to get out of here,” Y/n said firmly, beginning to quickly climb the walls of the UFO with the agility of an expert. Momo clung to her, the warmth of her body comforting her, but her mind was filled with chaos. In her chest, a strange feeling was born, something she had never felt before.

Ken, still disoriented from the curse and the explosion, was on the ground, slowly recovering. Y/n, still moving, lifted him up with one hand, placing him on her back as she continued to ascend.

“Come on, Ken! You have to get up, we have to go now!” Y/n shouted, and Ken, his eyes still somewhat clouded, nodded weakly.

The room was crumbling around them, and a dark energy filled the air. The walls were beginning to shake violently, and the lights flickered desperately. Momo, her face still flushed from the closeness to Y/n, looked down as they ascended, unable to stop her heart from beating faster than normal. What was this strange feeling that was invading her?

Suddenly, a loud boom shook the UFO, and a gigantic explosion went off behind them. The walls began to give way, and the ship seemed to be on the verge of total destruction. Y/n, not losing her cool, leapt forward, bringing Momo and Ken with her in her leap, escaping just before the UFO exploded into a ball of fire.

With a deafening bang, the UFO disintegrated behind them, and in the air, Y/n, Momo, and Ken flew through space, jumping out of the ship's reach, completely safe but on the verge of despair.

Momo hugged Y/n tightly, no longer caring about the blush, as the wind whipped at them, and Ken's body rested on Y/n's back.  The scene was chaotic, but it had all happened so fast, and the only thought running through Momo's mind was how she felt so strangely calm in Y/n's arms, as the ship crumbled behind them.

"Are we safe?" Ken asked, his voice weak, as he watched the distance between them and the exploding ship.

"Yes," Y/n answered, without hesitation. "We're safe... for now."

But as they floated in the air, Momo couldn't help but wonder how they could have survived all of that. And even more so, how her feelings towards Y/n seemed to have changed in a matter of seconds, and what it all meant to her.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Near Kamigoe Prefecture, a curious pastel-green being walked casually through the crowded streets of the city. It had the appearance of a puppy dog, though its size, its long antennae that glowed faintly in the daylight, and its tail that swung like a whip of jelly made it clear that it was no ordinary dog. In one hand it held a burrito wrapped in silver paper, and in the other, a large soda that made gurgling sounds with each step.

The little alien eagerly bit into the burrito, spilling some of the sauce on the ground. It paused for a moment, sucking its fingers before continuing to walk. Its attitude was that of someone who belonged there, though it didn’t bother to hide the strangeness of its appearance. People watched it in awe, but the alien seemed immune to the curious glances.

“Mom, look! A puppy!” exclaimed a little girl with braids, pointing at it with joy.

The being stopped dead in its tracks, its ears (or what seemed to be ears) perking up at the sound. It slowly turned its head towards the little girl, its eyes shining like a pair of tiny green suns. “Who are you calling a puppy, kid!?” it shrieked in a high-pitched voice with an accent that seemed to be from another planet… literally.

The little girl’s mother froze, tugging on her daughter’s hand as she tried to process what had just happened.

“Speak, Mom! The puppy is speaking!” the excited little girl shouted, tugging on her mother’s arm.

The alien, offended, snorted and raised his donkey towards the little girl, as if it were some sort of weapon. “Hey, on my planet, insulting someone by calling them a puppy is a declaration of war, you know? But I’m too busy today to respond to your taunts.”

The mother, now completely terrified, dragged her daughter away from the little being, muttering something about “moving to the country.”  The alien pup shook his head as he took a long sip of his soda, producing a clattering sound that drew even more stares.

“Humans…” he muttered tiredly, his antennae twitching in slight annoyance. “You can’t just walk around town without someone mistaking you for a pet.”

He continued on his way, dodging the crowd with surprising agility for someone with a burrito and a soda in his hands. Every so often, he would stop in front of a store to admire some product, though he quickly grew bored and kept moving.

A man in a suit saw him pass by and frowned. “Is that… a dog in a costume?”

“I’m not a dog!” the alien shouted without even turning around. “And stop looking at me like that or I’ll throw my burrito in your face!”

The threat seemed to have an effect, and the man walked away muttering something about “needing more coffee.”

The little creature finally reached the entrance to the town, where the lights were beginning to fade and the shops were turning into open fields. It stopped and looked out at the horizon, its antennae leaning forward as if it were sensing something. It took a last sip of its soda, letting out a loud burp that echoed through the air.

“Fine…” it said, wiping its mouth with the back of its hand. “Now I just need to find that damn ship before someone else calls me a puppy.”

He continued walking towards the end of the city, his half-eaten burrito still in his hand. Behind him lay a line of perplexed humans, and ahead of him a fate awaited him that, as always, would be anything but boring.

The little alien continued to walk with a sure step, enjoying his half-finished burrito, when suddenly, his antennae began to vibrate intensely. A slight buzzing sound went through his head, as if he had tuned into a distant frequency. His expression tensed, and his eyes, which used to shine with indifference, now narrowed with seriousness.

“What the…?” he muttered, looking around as if searching for the source of the phenomenon. His antennae continued to vibrate, and the buzzing sound grew higher. Then, looking up, he saw it.

In the distance, a thick column of black smoke rose from the old university hospital, followed by an explosion that lit up the sky as if it were a misplaced fireworks display.  The alien dropped his soda, which slowly rolled to a stop in a sewer.

“No way!” he screamed, bringing his hands to his antennae as if trying to stop the humming. He looked back at the hospital, frowning in a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/n did it again?!”

The small being began to walk faster, then trotted, muttering under his breath. “I told you not to go soft on the merchandise! But no, you always have to play the heroine, dammit!”

He paused for a moment, as if he had remembered something, and shook his head in frustration. “And you sure left a mess behind, like always! By all the rings of Saturn, you’re really going to listen to me this time!”

With one last glance at the burning hospital, he let out an annoyed growl.  “I hope you at least saved something valuable, because if not…”

The little alien ran off on his short legs, leaving his donkey forgotten on the ground. His pastel green silhouette was lost in the shadows, while the smoke from the hospital covered the horizon, promising chaos and answers in the distance.

A/N ── Oh, hey, it's me again.

First off, let me tell you something: I'm in love with Dandadan. Seriously, I can't even explain how much I was hooked on this series from the moment I found out how it went. It was like a cosmic crush. Each chapter left me more hooked, more obsessed, and obviously I couldn't resist. I ended up buying the ENTIRE manga set that was available so far. I literally couldn't wait to find out what was going to happen with Momo after those last chapters that left me with my heart in my throat. This series is pure magic and chaos, and I can't get over it.

Now, let's talk about my baby, or Y/n. Let me tell you that her spacesuit is directly inspired by Smart Lady from a Japanese series (if you know which one, you're one of mine). I wanted something that screams alien but with style, and I feel like I nailed it... sort of. But, here comes the kicker: her personality is still not well defined. She's a mess, I admit. But that's the whole idea. Because she's an undercover alien, her personality changes depending on the environment she's in. It's like she's constantly adapting to fit in, but at the same time, that lack of consistency is part of her identity. Existential drama at its finest!

And here comes the tricky but interesting part: the character doesn't have a defined gender. Visually, she could pass for a woman, and she identifies as a woman because that's how she feels, but here's the plot twist: she has no defined genitals. Yes, you read that right. She's neither biologically male nor female. She's something beyond that, something that she may not even fully understand. For now, she treats herself as a woman because that's what feels most comfortable and natural to her earthly experience, but... does it really matter? I want to explore how that ambiguity affects her, how it influences the way she sees herself and her interactions with others. It's a key part of her story that I hope to develop little by little.

Oh, and regarding the technical chaos... I know this first part had its problems. It was published by itself, the dialogues were poorly arranged, it was very long, blah, blah, blah. But now, it's all well and good. I think.

[xotyla]

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader word count: 15k genre: no smut, heavy angst, fluff towards the end warnings: it’s dark, abuse, stalking, toxic relationship, manipulation, the reader is mentally unstable, plot twists, heeseung has a weak spot for the reader, the reader's name is iseul, violence, and overall it’s just dark, so read at your own discretion. synopsis: a girl who's out of her mind and heeseung, who's in love and down bad for her but needs help. tyla's notes: in the beginning, i was going to add smut but decided not to because i wanted this to have HEAVY angst. if you guys want a part two because heeseung does do something unexpected, i can make one; just let me know, but enjoy and soon I'll be doing a permanent tag list!

Lee Heeseung and Iseul met through their mutual close friend, Jungwon, during a small gathering at Jungwon’s apartment. Iseul, who had just moved to the city, caught Heeseung’s attention immediately with her striking confidence and wit. 

Iseul was not the type to blend into the background; her fiery personality demanded attention, and she seemed to have some sort of mysterious allure that left people curious yet cautious to approach. Though she often kept people at arm’s length, Heeseung’s kind and genuine nature intrigued her.

The connection between them sparked instantly, and Jungwon couldn’t help but play matchmaker, knowing that Heeseung’s gentleness just might be what Iseul needed to soften her edges.

Heeseung was the kind of man women often gravitated toward. His soft-spoken charm and genuine warmth made him irresistible, but they also made him a great target for manipulation. Heeseung had a history of giving too much and asking too little in return, often leaving him burned by those who saw his kindness as weakness.

Despite his past experiences, Heeseung maintained his faith in people. When he met Iseul, her possessiveness initially felt comforting—a stark contrast to the way others had treated him. But as their relationship deepened into something more than just friends and into something real, Heeseung realized that her intensity could be overwhelming, especially when she felt threatened.

Iseul’s possessiveness stemmed from a deep-seated fear of losing the people she cared about. She’d had her own share of heartbreaks, and when she found someone as pure-hearted as Heeseung, she clung tightly. Her jealousy often caused scenes, especially when other women approached him. 

At a party one evening, Iseul spotted a woman laughing a little too closely with Heeseung. Without hesitation, she stormed across the room, her voice sharp as she confronted the woman. 

The room fell silent as Iseul’s words sliced through the air, and though Heeseung tried to diffuse the situation, the tension lingered. “I’m not going to let anyone take you from me,” Iseul whispered to him afterward, her eyes filled with both fear and assurance in an odd way. 

Heeseung, though visibly uncomfortable with Iseul’s outbursts, couldn’t bring himself to push her away. He saw the vulnerability beneath her sharp exterior and felt a sense of responsibility to protect her, even from herself. 

One night, as they sat on a rooftop overlooking the city, Heeseung gently confronted Iseul about her behavior. “You don’t have to fight for me like that,” he said softly, taking her hand in his. “I’m already yours.” For a moment, Iseul’s defenses crumbled, and she admitted her insecurities. “I just... I can’t love you, Heeseung,” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. Heeseung’s heart ached as he pulled her into a comforting embrace, promising her he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Despite their passionate connection, their relationship often felt like a tug-of-war. Iseul’s fiery love burned brightly but could instantly spiral into destructive jealousy. Heeseung was struggling to balance his desire to be with her and his own personal need for stability. Their interactions were often intense and filled with tender moments and heated arguments. 

Iseul was in love with Heeseung even if they hadn’t been together for long. She quickly got attached to him and she couldn’t let him go so easily either. She saw him as a person but also as someone who was her property and she couldn’t let anyone take what she owned away from her. 

Heeseung worked as an office worker and his company was having a gathering where the workers could come together and bring along their partners but Heeseung’s biggest mistake was letting Iseul come with.

A female coworker, unaware of Iseul’s reputation as the jealous girlfriend, playfully touched Heeseung’s arm as she laughed at one of his jokes. Iseul’s blood boiled instantly. She could feel herself itching to hurt the woman, wanting to claw her black nails into the female’s skin deep enough to make her bleed and leave marks in her flawless skin forever.

Iseul had thoughts like this a lot. Heeseung made her want to hurt people and she knew it wasn’t healthy but she didn’t care. She had to protect him from women who wanted to take advantage of him and use him for their own personal gain.

Iseul, who was standing a few feet away from them, let her feet make their way over to the pair. Her jaw tightened as she got closer, her eyes darkening, looking cold and distant. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” she spat at the women, her voice dripping with venom. The coworker stammered, confused, but Iseul could care less.

“Get your filthy hands off what’s mine.” She grabbed Heeseung’s wrist and yanked him outside before he could protest. 

Heeseung was embarrassed. He knew bringing Iseul was a bad idea from the start but he knew she’d have something to say if he didn’t bring her. He also knew that his coworkers would be talking about this until God knows when. Talking about how he lets his girlfriend boss him around like he’s the woman in the relationship or how she’s jealous, probably due to insecurity.

Heeseung didn’t have anything to say to Iseul. He honestly didn’t have any words, just letting her call a cab for them and drive them to the apartment they shared together, staying quiet the entire ride home. 

As they entered inside the apartment, the second the door closed, Iseul pinned him against it, her voice low and menacing. “You’re mine, Heeseung. I hate having to remind you.” She pulled him into a bruising kiss. Heeseung didn’t fight back whatsoever. He kissed her back because even though he was embarrassed and terrified, he was also thrilled in a sick way.  

Oh, and it didn’t stop there. 

Iseul’s jealousy reached a fever pitch at a nightclub. Heeseung, as usual, had attracted attention just by being his kind and approachable self but also by being a good-looking guy. A woman at the bar kept making excuses to talk to him, even brushing her hand against his. Iseul, watching from a distance, snapped. She stormed over, grabbing the woman’s drink from her hand and throwing it in her face. “He’s not available.” Security had to intervene but Iseul didn’t care even as she and Heeseung were practically thrown out of the club.

And as usual, they went home, the car ride silent and when they’d get inside of their apartment, the tension between them erupted into a fiery encounter. Her dominance in the bedroom mirrored her control over their relationship. She demanded everything from Heeseung—his love, loyalty, and complete surrender. And Heeseung, despite knowing how destructive she was, gave in willingly every time. 

Weeks later, after the nightclub situation, Heeseung was invited to a friend’s wedding and of course, he brought Iseul along. Heeseung had already talked with her prior to this event about controlling herself even if it was hard but no, the opposite of controlling herself happened. 

A bridesmaid had been openly flirting with Heeseung throughout the night, and Iseul was visibly seething. When the woman leaned in too close during a group photo, Iseul snapped. She yanked Heeseung away, her voice icy as she addressed the bridesmaid. “I don’t care if this is your best friend’s wedding. Touch him again, and you’ll regret it.” The situation quickly escalated when Iseul, the woman in front of everyone, left the entire wedding party stunned. 

Heeseung tried to calm her down, but Iseul’s rage was unstoppable. “Do you enjoy this? Watching them throw themselves at you? Do you like hurting me?” she screamed at him later that night, tears streaming down her face. This was their daily cycle. 

She would get mad, cause a scene, get kicked out or leave, get a cab, and have a silent car ride, arrive home, and have sex, or Heeseung would try to explain how he felt about the situation even though Iseul would sometimes get pissed and turn his words against him. This was their cycle, a never-ending one.

Despite her unhinged behavior, Heeseung loved her, and he didn’t know how many times he had to say it. He loved Iseul and he knew she did everything out of care for him. He was infatuated, addicted to the intensity of her love. Iseul had a way of making him feel wanted like no one else ever had, even if it came at a cost. 

After each explosive fight, she would pull him close, her touch both possessive and tender. “You belong to me,” she’d whisper, her lips brushing against his neck. And in those moments, Heeseung couldn’t imagine being anywhere else but with her.

But as time went on, Iseul’s control over their relationship became suffocating. She monitored his phone, questioned his every move, and isolated him from his friends. Jungwon even tried to intervene once Heeseung started telling him these things, even having to witness it for himself along with his other friends. 

Let’s take it back three weeks ago.

The air was light and jovial as Heeseung sat around the table with closest friends—Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki–reminiscing about old memories. 

The group had gathered at a cozy cafe for a rare chance to catch up, and everyone was high in spirits. Joining them was Minji, Heeseung’s childhood friend, whose bubbly personality and playful demeanor had everyone smiling (except Iseul). She had been reminiscing about their younger days, leaning close to Heeseung as she laughed about their old antics. 

“You remember how I used to always beat you at soccer, Heeseung?” Minji teased, nudging his arm playfully. Her eyes sparkled with nostalgia. “And how you used to blush whenever I called you cute? I swear, you had the biggest crush on me back then!” she added, giggling.

Iseul, seated beside Heeseung, had been unusually quiet during the exchange, her sharp dark brown eyes narrowing as she watched Minji’s hand linger a little too long on his arm. The tension in her posture was palpable, but no one addressed it—until she finally broke her silence. 

“Wow, Minji,” Iseul said, her tone sarcastic. “It’s so cute how you’re stuck in the past. But unfortunately. Heeseung’s moved on. You should too.” The table fell silent as all eyes turned to her. Heeseung’s face turned pale, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Minji blinked, startled. “I��I didn’t mean anything by it,” she stammered, glancing at Heeseung for reassurance, help even. 

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t.” Iseul replied, her smile as sharp as a knife. “But just so we’re clear, Heeseung doesn’t need to be reminded of some childish crush. He has me now. And trust me, I give him everything he needs.” Her hand moved to Heeseung’s thigh under the table, gripping it possessively.

Jungwon, sensing the growing tension, stepped in. “Iseul, come on, she’s just joking around. Minji and Heeseung are old friends–there’s no harm in reminiscing.” 

Iseul’s gaze snapped at Jungwon, her expression darkening. “Old friends? Is that what you call flirting these days?” she shot back. “If you’re so concerned about my boyfriend, maybe you should focus on being better friends instead of letting random women paw at him.”

Jake leaned forward trying to defuse the situation. “Iseul, that’s not fair. Minji didn’t mean anything by it. She’s always been like this with Heeseung–it’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” Iseul’s laugh was bitter. “You don’t think I see the way she looks at him? The way she touches him? If you all think this okay, then maybe you’re the problem.”

As her voice grew sharper, Heeseung finally spoke, his voice weak. “Iseul, please, it’s not–”

“Shut up, Heeseung,” Iseul interrupted, her words silencing him instantly. She turned her piercing gaze back to Minji. “And you,” she started, “If you ever touch him again, I promise next time it won’t be pretty.”

The table was frozen in awkward silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, but Jay nudged him, shaking his head. It was clear no one knew how to handle Iseul’s outburst. 

After a moment, Iseul stood, yanking Heeseung’s arm and yanking him up from his seat. “We’re leaving,” she announced coldly, not even sparing the other a glance as she dragged Heeseung out of the cafe.

Once they were gone, the remaining friends exchanged worried looks. “This isn’t normal,” Niki said quietly, his voice filled with concern. “She’s… controlling him.:

Jungwon sighed, rubbing his temples. “I know. But what can we do? Heeseung won’t listen. He��s completely under her thumb.”

“She’s dangerous,” Sunoo murmured, his voice trembling slightly, shaken up from the situation. “We need to find a way to help him before it’s too late.”

Back in Iseul and Heeseung’s car, she gripped onto the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white, as she drove in tense silence. Heeseung sat in the passenger seat, his head bowed in defeat. “Why do you let them disrespect me like that?” she finally asked, her voice cold.

“They’re my friends, Iseul,” he said softly. 

“No,” she snapped, her eyes flashing as she glanced at him. “They’re just people trying to take you away from me. You belong to me, Heeseung. Not them, me.”

And Heeseung, despite everything, could only nod, too tangled in her web of possessive love to fight back.

The rest of the drive back to their apartment was suffocatingly silent. Heeseung sat motionless in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks. Iseul’s jaw was clenched, her hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly as though she were fighting to keep control—not just of the car, but of the entire situation. 

When they finally arrived home, Iseul slammed the door shut behind them and threw her keys onto the counter, spinning around to face Heeseung. Her expression was unreadable, a dangerous mix of fury and desperation. “Do you even understand what you put me through back there?” 

Heeseung, already exhausted from the evening, ran a hand through his black hair and sighed. “I didn’t do anything, Iseul. Minji is just a friend. You overreacted, and now everyone thinks–”

“Thinks what?” Iseul interrupted, her voice rising. She stepped closer to him, her eyes wild. “That I’m the crazy girlfriend? That I’m unreasonable for protecting what’s mine? Don’t you dare try to make me feel like I’m the villain here, Heeseung.”

“You are being unreasonable!” Heeseung snapped back, surprisingly even himself.  “Minji wasn’t doing anything wrong. She’s been my friend for years, and you humiliated her—and me—in front of everyone!”

For a moment, the room was silent. Iseul’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at him, her chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. Then she laughed—a low, bitter sound that sent a shiver down Heeseung’s spine. 

“You think this is about her?” she said, her voice trembling. “This is about you. You let her touch you. You let her remind you of some stupid crush, like I don’t even exist. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Iseul…” Heeseung started, his voice softening, but she cut him off again. 

“No,” she said, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him down to her level. “You don’t get to make any excuses. You’re mine, Heeseung. Mine. And if I have to keep reminding you of that, then I will.”

Her lips crashed against his in a fierce, possessive kiss, leaving no room for hesitation. Heeseung froze, torn between resisting and giving in. His body betrayed him, responding to her intensity even as his mind screamed at him to pull away.

The kiss deepened, and Iseul’s grip on him tightened, her dominance overwhelming. She pushed him against the wall, her nails digging into his arms. “Say it,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Say you’re mine.” 

Heeseung’s heart pounded in his chest. “I’m yours,” he murmured, the words escaping before he could stop them.

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. “Good,” she said, her voice softer but not less commanding. When they finally pulled apart, Heeseung slumped against the wall, his head spinning. Iseul stepped back, her expression calm now, almost tender. “I only do this because I love you,” she said quietly, brushing a hand through his hair. “You know that, right?”

Heeseung nodded weakly, unable to meet her gaze. “Yeah. I know.”

But as she walked away, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room, a deep pit of unease settled in his chest. His friends worried faces flashed in his mind, and for the first time, he wondered if they were right.

He was losing himself to her. And the worst part was, he didn’t know if he could ever walk away.

He moved over to the couch, throwing himself on it with his head in his hands, constantly replaying the scene at the cafe and the confrontation in his mind. His friends’ concerned expressions lingered in his thoughts, their unspoken pleas for him to see the truth. But every time he tried to imagine leaving Iseul, his heart twisted painfully. 

In the other room, Iseul sat on the edge of their bed, staring blankly at the floor. Her anger had dissipated, replaced by a gnawing sense of emptiness. She told herself she had done what was necessary to protect their relationship. Yet a small, nagging voice whispered that she was pushing too hard, that she was losing Heeseung even as she clung to him tighter. But instead of addressing her insecurities deeply and openly, she steeled herself, convincing herself that her actions were justified. 

Heeseung’s phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen; it was a message from Jungwon.

Jungwon: Heeseung, are you okay? We’re really worried about you. You don’t have to deal with this alone. Please talk to us.

His chest tightened as he read the message. He wanted to respond, to reach out for help, but fear and guilt paralyzed him. He knew Jungwon and the other only wanted the best for him, but he also knew how furious Iseul would be if she found out he had confided in them. The memory of her sharp words and the fire in her eyes made his fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard. 

“I see you’re texting someone.”

Iseul’s voice, which sounded so beautiful when she was calm, cut through the quiet like a knife, making Heeseung jump. She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked to his phone, and he quickly loved the screen, shoving it into his pocket.

“It’s just Jungwon,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. 

Her lips curved up into a small smile, but there was no warmth in it. “Jungwon, huh? Let me guess—he’s telling you I’m a problem, that you need to leave me, right?”

Jungwon and Iseul had been friends for about a year now and he knew all about her relationship but he never knew why they ended or failed but now he could understand why. Iseul always painted others to be the problem while convincing everyone around her that she was a victim. She’s a master manipulator, if you will, and now that Jungwon is seeing what his best friend is going through, he’s definitely regretting trying to play matchmaker. 

“Iseul, no one said that,” Heeseung replied, his voice shaky.

“They don’t have to say it,” she said, still calm, stepping closer to him. “I can see it in their eyes. They think I’m crazy. They think I’m the problem. But you know better, don’t you, Heeseung? You know how much I care about you and want to protect you. You know how much I love you.”

Heeseung looked up at her, his throat tightening. “I know Iseul. I know you love me.”

“Then why do you let them poison your mind against me?” She asked, her voice shaky like his was moments ago. “Do you want to leave me? Is that it? I mean—after everything we’ve been through?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “No, Iseul. I don’t want to leave you.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I couldn’t handle losing you, Heeseung. I need you.”

Heeseung’s heart ached as he looked into her eyes. He knew she was scared to lose him; he could feel it. He wanted to help her, fix whatever was broken inside her. But deep down, he knew he was breaking down with her.

Later that night, Iseul had finally fallen asleep. The two heading to their bedroom after the conversation she had instantly went to bed once her head rested on his chest. Heeseung lay awake staring at the ceiling. His phone vibrated against the nightstand. Another message from Jungwon. 

Jungwon: You don’t have to reply. Just know we’re here for you whenever you’re ready.

Tears pricked at Heeseung’s eyes as he read the message. He felt trapped between two worlds—the toxic intensity of his relationship with Iseul and the lifeline his friends were trying to offer. 

Now, fast forward three weeks later. 

Heeseung and Iseul were the same as usual but it got worse. She started getting physical with him. She’d throw things at him, like glass objects, even hitting him and he was scared. He hadn’t contacted anyone for those three weeks because she was watching over him like a hawk and for once in his life, he was genuinely scared. 

The once vibrant Heeseung had become a shadow of himself, his days consumed by fear and the suffocating grip of Iseul’s control growing tighter. 

One evening, after another grueling day of being scrutinized, Heeseung sat quietly at the kitchen table, stirring a cup of tea he didn’t even want. Iseul was pacing back and forth, her voice sharp and accusatory as she berated him over something trivial—a stray sock he’d left on the floor.

This was beyond jealousy now; it was over the smallest things. 

“You don’t care about me, do you?” She slammed her against the kitchen table. The loud noises causing him to flinch. “I give you everything, Heeseung, and this is how you repay me? With disrespect?”

“Iseul, it’s just a sock,” he said weakly

Her eyes darkened, and in an instant, she grabbed the mug of tea and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, tea splattering like a storm of rage. “It’s not about a fucking sock–it’s about you not appreciating me!”

Heeseung’s heart raced as he stood up, his hands shakingly raised defensively. “Iseul, please, calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

But she wasn’t listening. In her fury, she picked up a book from the table and threw it at him. He ducked, the book narrowly missing his head and hitting the floor with a dull thud. She advanced on him, her hand striking his arm hard enough to leave a stinging sensation. 

“You’re pathetic,” her voice filled with anger. “Always trying to make me feel like I’m the problem. Maybe if you weren’t so weak, I wouldn’t have to do this!”

Heeseung didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His mind was screaming at him to leave, to run, but his body wouldn’t move. He was praying that someone would help him. Anyone.

Meanwhile, Jungwon, Jake, and Sunghoon had been growing increasingly worried. They hadn’t heard from Heeseung in weeks, and every attempt to contact him had gone unanswered. Even his social media had gone dark, a glaring red flag that something was wrong.”

“Heeseung's not okay,” Jungwon said firmly during a group meeting at Jake’s apartment. The six of them sat in a tense circle, their faces grim. 

“No shit.” Jay muttered. “The last time we saw him, she dragged him out like a prisoner. He hasn’t even read any of my messages.”

“I say we go to his place and check on him,” Sunghoon said, crossing his arms. “Heeseung might hate us for it, but I don’t care. That girl’s fucking deranged.” 

Niki nodded. “We have to do something. Heeseung’s never been gone for this long without talking to us. What if she’s hurt him?

After a brief discussion, they agreed to visit Heeseung unannounced the following evening. They needed to know if he was okay, even if it meant confronting his crazy girlfriend.

The next night, Heeseung sat in the living room, staring blankly at the TV. Iseul sat beside him. Her arm draped possessively over his shoulders. Every time he shifted, her grip tightened, a silent reminder of her control.

A sudden knock at the door shattered the oppressive quiet. Heeseung stiffened, his eyes darting to Iseul, who immediately rose, her expression hardening. “Stay here,” she commanded, walking toward the door. 

When she opened it, she was met with the sight of Jungwon, Jake, and Sunghoon standing on the threshold. Their faces were a mixture of worry and determination. 

“What are you doing here?” Iseul demanded, blocking the doorway so they couldn’t even get a glimpse of Heeseung.

“We’re here to see Heeseung,” Jungwon said firmly. “Is he home?”

“He’s fine,” she snapped. “You don’t need to see him.”

Jake stepped forward, his tone sharp. “We’re not leaving until we talk to him. Move.”

Iseul’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I said he’s fine. He doesn’t need you interfering in his life.”

At that moment, Heeseung appeared in the hallway, his pale face and hollow eyes shocking his friends. “Guys…” he started, his voice barely audible. 

“Holy shit, Heeseung, you look terrible,” Sunghoon said, pushing past Iseul before she could stop him. Jake and Jungwon followed, forcing their way inside. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Iseul shouted.

“We’re taking him with us,” Jungwon said coldly, his gaze fixed on Heeseung. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

Heeseung looked between his friends and Iseul, his heart pounding. He wanted to leave to escape the nightmare he’d been living, but the fear of what Iseul might do held him back. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Heeseung,” Iseul said, stepping in front of him and gripping his arm tightly. “You’re staying here. With me.”

“You don’t get to decide that,”Jake said, his voice firm. “Heeseung, if you want to leave, we’re here to help you. Just say the word.”

Tears welled in Heeseung’s eyes as he looked at his friends. For the first time in weeks, a glimmer of hope stirred in chest. But when Iseul’s nails dug into his arm, the hope flickered and nearly died. 

“I…” he hesitated, his voice trembling. 

“You can’t take him,” Iseul said. “He’s mine.”

But as Heeseung reached out, his steady presence grounding Heeseung, the words he had been too afraid to say finally escaped his lips.

“I want to leave,” Heeseung whispered, his voice breaking.”

Iseul’s grip faltered for the briefest moment and in that instant, Jungwon and Jake pulled Heeseung away from her. Iseul screamed, her voice a mix of rage and heartbreak, but Sunghoon stood between her and Heeseung, blocking her path. 

She tried everything to get to him but Sunghoon wouldn’t budge. 

It was finally happening. He was leaving her breaking all of his promises and throwing all of his words out of the window. She watched as they took him, breaking down at the sight. Tears ran down her pale cheeks and she fell to her knees instantly crying her eyes out. He was really gone. He really chose them over her. 

The ride back to Jungwon’s apartment was silent save for the faint hum of the car engine. Heeseung sat in the backseat, staring blankly out the window, his body trembling from exhaustion and the adrenaline that still coursed through him. Jake drove with clenched hands on the wheel, his jaw tight, while Jungwon sat beside him, constantly glancing back at Heeseung with concern.

When they arrived, the group ushered Heeseung inside. Sunghoon locked the door behind them, as if afraid Iseul might appear at any moment. Heeseung sank onto the couch, his shoulders slumped. His friends exchanged worried glances before Jungwon spoke.

“Heeseung, you need to tell us what’s been going on,” he said gently, sitting across from him. “We’ve been worried sick about you.”

Heeseung hesitated, his throat tightening as he tried to find the words. His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. “I… I don’t even know where to start,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Start anywhere,” Jake said firmly, sitting beside him. “We’re here now. You don’t have to deal with this alone anymore.”

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, the dam of emotions he’d been holding back for weeks finally breaking. “She… she wouldn’t let me leave,” he began, his voice trembling. “She took my phone, monitored everything I did. If I even looked like I was thinking about leaving, she’d lose it. She started throwing things, hitting me…”

Sunoo’s hand flew to his mouth in shock. “She hit you?”

Heeseung nodded, his eyes welling with tears. “It got worse after that night at the café. She blamed me for everything—said I made her act like that, that it was my fault for not loving her enough.”

“That’s not love, Heeseung,” Sunghoon said, his voice low but firm. “That’s manipulation. Abuse.”

“I know,” Heeseung admitted, his voice breaking. “But I couldn’t leave. I was scared of what she might do—to me, to herself. She always made me feel like I owed her something, like I was nothing without her.”

Jay, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, finally spoke. “You don’t owe her anything, Heeseung. What she did to you wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Heeseung buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as the weight of his ordeal finally came crashing down. Jungwon moved to sit beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back. “We’re going to help you through this,” he said softly. “But you need to promise us that you won’t go back to her.”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” Heeseung admitted, his voice muffled. “She’ll come after me. She always does. And part of me still—” He stopped, his voice catching as he realized what he was about to say.

“You still care about her,” Jake finished for him, his tone understanding but firm. “I get it, Heeseung. But caring about her doesn’t mean you should let her hurt you. You have to put yourself first now.”

Heeseung nodded hesitantly, though the fear in his eyes remained.

The group spent the night keeping Heeseung company, taking turns staying up to ensure he felt safe. They checked in on him constantly, offering him food, water, and comfort. Despite their efforts, Heeseung barely spoke, the trauma of the past weeks weighing heavily on him.

The next morning, Jungwon sat down with Heeseung at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of each of them. “We need to talk about next steps,” Jungwon said carefully. “You can’t just hide here forever. Iseul’s not going to stop looking for you.”

Heeseung’s grip on his mug tightened. “What can I even do? She knows everything about me—where I work, where my family lives…”

“Then we get the authorities involved,” Jungwon said firmly. “We can help you file a restraining order, and if she tries to contact you, she’ll face consequences.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened. “A restraining order? I don’t know, Jungwon. What if that makes her angrier?”

“It’s not about her feelings anymore,” Sunghoon interjected, leaning against the counter. “It’s about keeping you safe. She’s already hurt you, Heeseung. Don’t give her another chance to do it again.”

The words struck a chord in Heeseung, and after a long moment of silence, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

The group spent the next few days helping Heeseung gather the necessary evidence to file a restraining order. He finally opened up about the extent of Iseul’s behavior—her constant monitoring, the physical abuse, the threats. Each detail made his friends’ anger grow, but they channeled it into supporting him.

Meanwhile, Iseul’s attempts to contact Heeseung escalated. She sent dozens of messages and left voicemails filled with alternating pleas and threats. Jungwon took Heeseung’s phone to document everything, ensuring there was a clear record of her harassment.

By the time they filed the restraining order, Heeseung felt a small, cautious sense of relief. It wasn’t over—he knew that—but it was a step toward reclaiming his life.

For the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe. And with his friends by his side, he dared to believe that he might one day be free of Iseul’s shadow entirely.

The days following the filing of the restraining order were a whirlwind of emotions for Heeseung. Relief, fear, guilt, and a gnawing uncertainty all competed for space in his mind. His friends took turns staying with him at Jungwon’s apartment, ensuring he was never alone, but even their presence couldn’t fully ease the tension in his chest.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Heeseung sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV while Sunoo rummaged through the kitchen. Sunoo had insisted on making dinner that night, hoping the distraction would help Heeseung relax.

“You’ve barely eaten today,” Sunoo said, breaking the silence as he set a plate of food in front of Heeseung. “You need to take care of yourself, Heeseung. You’ve been through enough.”

Heeseung glanced at the plate, his stomach churning. “I’m not really hungry,” he muttered.

Sunoo frowned but didn’t push. Instead, he sat down beside him, his voice soft. “I know it’s hard right now, but you’re doing the right thing. Getting out of that situation—it’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done.”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered with doubt. “It doesn’t feel brave. It feels… wrong. Like I abandoned her.”

“You didn’t abandon her,” Sunoo said firmly. “She was hurting you, Heeseung. You had to put yourself first, and that’s not wrong.”

A few hours later, Jake and Sunghoon arrived, their presence bringing a slightly lighter atmosphere to the apartment. Jake immediately flopped onto the couch beside Heeseung, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“You look like you’ve been through a war,” Jake said, half-joking.

Heeseung managed a weak smile. “Feels like it, too.”

“Well, you’re not alone,” Sunghoon said, sitting across from them. “We’re all here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to fight this battle by yourself.”

Their words comforted Heeseung, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t let him fully relax. He knew Iseul too well. She wasn’t the type to give up easily, and her silence since the restraining order had been filed only made him more uneasy.

That unease turned out to be justified.

Late that night, as the group was winding down, Heeseung’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He froze, his heart pounding as everyone else in the room turned to look at it.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Jungwon asked, his voice laced with concern.

Heeseung nodded silently, his hands shaking as he picked up the phone. The screen displayed a series of missed calls and texts, all from an unknown number he recognized immediately as Iseul’s.

Iseul: I know where you are.Iseul: You can’t hide from me forever, Heeseung.Iseul: I’ll forgive you if you just come back. Don’t make me do something drastic.

Heeseung’s stomach dropped. He handed the phone to Jungwon, unable to read any more. Jungwon’s jaw clenched as he scrolled through the messages, his anger evident.

“She’s escalating,” Jungwon said grimly. “We need to let the authorities know.”

“Now?” Heeseung asked, his voice trembling.

“Yes, now,” Jay interjected. “This isn’t just harassment anymore. She’s threatening you.”

The group quickly sprang into action, calling the police and providing them with the messages as evidence. The officers assured Heeseung that they would follow up on the case, but their words did little to ease his anxiety.

After the officers left, the group sat in a tense silence. Heeseung felt like a burden, dragging his friends into a situation that seemed to have no end.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Stop apologizing,” Sunghoon said sharply. “This isn’t your fault, Heeseung. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Jungwon added, his voice softer but no less firm. “She can try to scare you all she wants, but she won’t get to you as long as we’re here.”

That night, Heeseung finally allowed himself to cry. For weeks, he had bottled up his fear, his pain, and his guilt, but in the safety of his friends’ presence, the dam finally broke. Jungwon and Jake stayed by his side, offering quiet reassurances as he let it all out.

By morning, Heeseung felt lighter, though the shadow of Iseul’s presence still loomed. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but for the first time in a long time, he believed he might survive this. And with his friends by his side, he was determined to reclaim his life, piece by piece.

In the days following Iseul's threatening messages, Heeseung's friends became increasingly concerned about how far she might go. The restraining order hadn’t deterred her, and her escalating behavior made it clear she wouldn’t stop until she had Heeseung back under her control. Jake, always the practical one, suggested that they start looking into her past to understand more about her motives—and potentially find a way to protect Heeseung further.

“She’s unhinged,” Jake said, scrolling through his laptop as the group gathered at Jungwon’s apartment. “Nobody acts like that out of nowhere. There has to be something in her history—something we can use to get ahead of her.”

“I don’t know if we should dig into her personal life,” Jungwon hesitated, glancing at Heeseung, who was sitting quietly on the couch. “What if it makes things worse?”

Heeseung, who had been largely silent since the ordeal began, finally spoke up. “No. Do it. I need to know what I’m dealing with. I can’t live like this anymore.”

It didn’t take long for the digging to yield results. Jake found a series of social media accounts that seemed abandoned, with cryptic posts hinting at tumultuous past relationships. But it was Sunghoon, searching through local forums, who uncovered something truly unsettling: a police report from two years ago.

“She was in another relationship before you, Heeseung,” Sunghoon said, his face pale as he read the report aloud. “Her ex filed a restraining order against her. He claimed she stalked him, broke into his apartment, and even tried to sabotage his new relationship.”

The room went silent. Heeseung’s face turned pale as the weight of the discovery settled on him. “She’s done this before,” he whispered.

“And it gets worse,” Sunghoon continued, his voice shaking. “Her ex disappeared six months after the restraining order was issued. The case went cold. No evidence, no leads—just gone.”

“Are you saying…?” Sunoo trailed off, his eyes wide with fear.

“I’m saying we might be dealing with someone a lot more dangerous than we thought,” Sunghoon finished grimly.

As they delved deeper, more disturbing details emerged. Iseul’s high school records revealed incidents of violent outbursts and manipulative behavior. She’d been expelled from one school for attacking another student over a supposed slight, and another for threatening a teacher. There were whispers on old forums about her obsessing over a boy who had rejected her, though nothing concrete ever came of it.

“She’s been like this for years,” Jay said, shaking his head in disbelief. “How did we not see this coming?”

“She’s good at hiding it,” Jungwon said quietly. “She came across as so sweet and harmless at first. None of us thought she was capable of…” He hesitated, glancing at Heeseung, “...this.”

Heeseung sat in silence, his hands clenched into fists. He felt sick. The woman he thought he loved, the woman he had trusted, was a stranger to him—a stranger capable of things he could barely comprehend.

That night, the group debated their next steps. Sunghoon wanted to take the information straight to the police, but Jake argued that they needed more evidence to tie Iseul to her ex’s disappearance. Meanwhile, Jungwon suggested confronting Iseul’s parents or old acquaintances to learn more about her behavior.

“Someone has to know what happened with her ex,” Jungwon said. “If we can figure out what pushed her over the edge, maybe we can stop her before she does something worse.”

Heeseung shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to her family. They’ll just defend her. She’s probably been manipulating them, too.”

“We have to try,” Sunoo said gently. “Heeseung, we’re running out of time. She knows where you are, and she’s not going to stop until she gets to you.”

Reluctantly, Heeseung agreed.

The following day, Jake and Sunghoon visited Iseul’s childhood home, posing as concerned friends to her parents. Her mother, a soft-spoken woman with tired eyes, welcomed them in, but her father was immediately defensive.

“What’s this about?” her father demanded, crossing his arms. “If you’re here to talk about Heeseung, we don’t want to hear it.”

“We’re here because we’re worried about her,” Jake lied smoothly. “She’s been struggling, and we’re trying to understand how to help her.”

Her mother sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Iseul has always been… sensitive,” she admitted. “She cares too deeply. Sometimes it gets the better of her.”

“Cares too deeply?” Sunghoon repeated, his tone sharp. “She’s been stalking Heeseung, threatening him. This isn’t just ‘caring.’”

Her father glared at them. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Iseul’s had a hard life. People misunderstand her.”

Her mother hesitated, then whispered, “There was someone before Heeseung. A boy she loved. When he left her, she was never the same. She became obsessed.”

“What happened to him?” Jake asked, his heart pounding.

Her mother didn’t answer, but the haunted look in her eyes spoke volumes.

When Jake and Sunghoon returned to Jungwon’s apartment and relayed what they’d learned, the room fell into a heavy silence. The pieces were starting to come together, and the picture they painted was terrifying.

“She’s done this before,” Jungwon said grimly. “And if we don’t stop her, she’ll do it again.”

“What if she already has something planned?” Sunoo asked, his voice trembling.

Heeseung’s stomach churned as he looked at his friends. “Then we don’t wait for her to act,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “We go to the police, and we stop her before it’s too late.”

Unbeknownst to them, Iseul was already watching. From a parked car down the street, she observed the comings and goings at Jungwon’s apartment, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel. She knew they were digging into her past, and she wasn’t about to let them ruin everything.

“Heeseung,” she murmured to herself, her eyes narrowing. “You belong to me. And no one is going to take you away.”

The game was far from over.

The next few days were filled with a quiet but intense determination. Heeseung’s friends, now more committed than ever to uncovering the truth about Iseul, dove headfirst into researching her past. Heeseung, though exhausted and still haunted by the relentless fear she instilled in him, reluctantly shared everything he knew. Every detail about her childhood, her trauma, and her obsession with control became key pieces to understanding the woman who was slowly dismantling his life.

“Iseul told me a lot over the years,” Heeseung said one night, as they sat around the living room. The tension was palpable, but his voice was steady as he continued. “She said her parents were emotionally abusive. She told me they would always put pressure on her to be perfect, to get everything right. She said they used to hit her when she failed to meet their expectations... and that they always told her she was worthless. That’s why she always has to be in control of everything around her. If she lets go, she feels like she’s going to break.”

Jungwon frowned, his fingers gripping the edge of the coffee table. “That explains a lot. It’s not just about you, Heeseung. She’s trying to control everything because she’s never had control in her own life.”

Sunghoon, who had been quietly listening, added, “It’s like a need for power. She’s so obsessed with keeping hold of you because it’s the one thing that makes her feel like she’s not completely helpless. Like she’s in charge.”

“That’s why she’s so possessive,” Jake murmured, his mind racing as he processed the new information. “But it’s more than just wanting you, Heeseung. It’s about her needing you to need her. She has to be the one pulling the strings, or everything falls apart.”

“I think we’ve been looking at it all wrong,” Jay said, his voice tinged with realization. “We’ve been thinking of her as some crazy ex or jealous girlfriend. But she’s not just obsessed with Heeseung—she’s obsessed with control. And if she doesn’t have control, she completely unravels.”

Heeseung swallowed, his eyes clouded with guilt and fear. “I just wanted to help her. I didn’t know how deep it went. I didn’t know how far she’d go to keep me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sunoo said, giving him a reassuring look. “You didn’t make her this way. And we’re going to fix this. We just need to understand her more.”

The team spent the next several days digging deeper. They scoured every piece of information they could find about Iseul—old school records, past social media accounts, even public records of her family history. What they uncovered was chilling.

Iseul’s parents had never been arrested for abuse, but there were whispers about their reputation within the small community they lived in. The more they dug, the clearer it became that her family had a history of mistreating her, both emotionally and physically. Her father had been a domineering figure, frequently found yelling at her in public, and her mother, though seemingly soft-spoken, had a cold, calculating air about her. Heeseung remembered the way Iseul had spoken about them, and he realized how much her mother’s behavior mirrored Iseul’s own—controlling, suffocating, and manipulative.

“I found something,” Jake said, breaking the silence one evening as he sat at his laptop. The group gathered around him, their collective eyes wide with anticipation.

“It’s an article from years ago,” Jake explained, his finger pointing at the screen. “It’s about Iseul’s mom, Mi-Young. Apparently, there was a case where Mi-Young was involved in a major fraud scheme, scamming people out of their savings. She was caught, but the case was dropped. They say it was because of her connections in the community. But what’s important is that, during the investigation, several witnesses came forward, talking about how Mi-Young had a terrifying grip on her daughter. They say she’d make Iseul do things to ‘earn her love.’ It’s all tied to that same need for control.”

“Is it possible Iseul learned that behavior from her mother?” Jungwon asked quietly, his voice filled with disbelief. “That she was taught to manipulate and control from a young age?”

Jake nodded grimly. “It seems like it. She’s repeating the cycle. And now, Heeseung, you’re the target.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, his expression dark. “This is bad. We thought we could reason with her, but it’s clear that we’re dealing with someone who has no idea what healthy love looks like. Someone who’s been conditioned to believe that control is the only form of affection.”

Heeseung felt his stomach churn. He had always known Iseul’s love was intense, but he hadn’t realized it was toxic—born out of years of manipulation and abuse. She wasn’t just someone with a simple jealousy problem; she had been shaped by abuse into a person who thought control and obsession were signs of love.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” Heeseung admitted, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I just wanted to be there for her. But now... I don’t know who she really is anymore.”

“You’re not the one who’s changed,” Jake said gently. “She’s the one who’s twisted everything. We just need to focus on getting you out of her grip. And for that, we need to keep looking at her past. There’s got to be something we can use to make her see that this isn’t love. It’s control, and it’s destroying both of you.”

Over the next week, the group continued to dig deeper, slowly peeling back layers of Iseul’s past. They discovered more disturbing details about her relationships, including an ex-boyfriend who had filed a restraining order against her for stalking and harassment. The police report detailed how she had bombarded him with dozens of texts and calls after their breakup, showing the same obsessive tendencies she had shown with Heeseung. The pattern was undeniable.

“She’s not capable of seeing how destructive this is,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head. “She’s been taught that this kind of obsession is normal. It’s how she learned to love.”

“And she’s using the same tactics with you, Heeseung,” Jungwon added. “This is a cycle of abuse that goes back generations. And until she gets help, it’s not going to stop.”

“Maybe it’s time to try and confront her about it,” Sunoo suggested. “If we confront her with the truth, maybe she’ll see the damage she’s doing.”

But Heeseung couldn’t shake the fear in his chest. “What if it just makes things worse?”

“She’s already made things worse,” Jake said. “We can’t let her keep hurting you like this. We need to make her see that she’s destroying everything—everyone—around her.”

But as they gathered the final pieces of the puzzle, it became clear that confronting Iseul wouldn’t be as simple as revealing her past. The deeper they went into her history, the more they realized how deeply embedded her need for control was—and how far she was willing to go to keep it.

After weeks of research and discussions, the group finally reached a decision. They couldn’t keep running, and they couldn’t keep living in fear. They needed to confront Iseul, to make her face the truth about her past, her actions, and what she had been doing to Heeseung. Despite knowing how dangerous and volatile she could be, they decided they had no other choice. If they didn’t stop her now, things would only escalate further.

The plan was simple: they would draw Iseul in with Heeseung. She would be lured into thinking this was just another moment where she could reclaim him, control him. But once she was there, they would make sure the truth came crashing down on her. It was risky—too risky—but it was the only way to break the cycle.

The night before the confrontation, Heeseung was a mess. His hands shook as he stared at the group in the dimly lit living room. His friends tried to reassure him, but the fear in his eyes was undeniable.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Heeseung said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared... of what she’ll do. I don’t want her to hurt anyone, but I don’t know how to stop her.”

Jungwon placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to offer a sense of calm. “You’re not alone, Heeseung. We’re doing this together. You’re stronger than you think, and we’re not going to let her hurt you anymore.”

“She’s not just hurting him,” Jake added, his voice low but full of conviction. “She’s been hurting all of us, and we can’t let her keep doing this.”

Heeseung nodded weakly but still looked unconvinced. The knot in his stomach tightened as he thought of Iseul—her eyes, filled with obsession and possessiveness, the way she could easily switch from sweet to violent in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know if he could handle facing that again.

The plan was set into motion the next evening. The group had managed to find a time when Iseul had been unusually quiet, as though she were planning something. They figured it was her moment of vulnerability. She had always been unpredictable, but she had never been one to resist Heeseung for long.

Heeseung called her from his phone, his voice shaking as he told her he needed to see her. She didn’t hesitate, immediately agreeing to come over. The tension in the apartment was thick with anxiety as the group made their final preparations. Heeseung sat on the couch, staring down at his phone, silently pleading for strength.

“I’m going to try to keep her calm,” Heeseung said to the group, looking at each of them in turn. “Please... don’t do anything unless she goes too far. I don’t want this to turn into a mess.”

Jungwon nodded. “You have to trust us, Heeseung. We won’t let her hurt you.”

The doorbell rang. The moment had come.

Iseul stood at the door, her presence immediately overwhelming the room. Her eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the group, her lips curling into a smile when they landed on Heeseung. Her beauty, though undeniably striking, only heightened the sense of danger that surrounded her.

“Heeseung,” she cooed, her voice sweet yet laced with something darker. “I knew you couldn’t stay away. I’m always here for you.”

Heeseung stood from the couch, his legs unsteady as he moved toward her. “Iseul... we need to talk. It’s time.”

Her eyes narrowed, her smile faltering for just a split second. “Talk?” she repeated, her tone suddenly hard. “What do we need to talk about?”

The group stood silently behind Heeseung, the tension palpable. Jungwon was the first to speak, his voice calm but firm.

“We need to talk about everything, Iseul,” he said. “About what you’ve been doing to Heeseung. About the way you’ve been controlling him, manipulating him... and about your past.”

Her eyes flicked from Jungwon to the others, her expression darkening. “What are you talking about?” she snapped, her hand twitching slightly toward the pocket of her jacket where a knife was hidden. The group noticed it immediately but stayed calm.

“We know about your parents,” Sunghoon continued, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “We know about how you were abused. We know you’ve been using Heeseung to fill that void in your life, to make up for the control you never had as a child.”

Iseul’s expression shifted to one of disbelief, her eyes widening for a moment as she took a step back. “You... you don’t know anything about me!” she hissed. “You think you can just dig into my life and expose me like this? You think you can tell me what to do?”

“We’re not telling you what to do, Iseul,” Sunghoon said softly, his voice unwavering. “We’re telling you that what you’re doing is wrong. You’re hurting him, and you’re hurting yourself in the process. You need help.”

“Stop,” Heeseung pleaded, stepping forward, his voice shaking. “Iseul, please... this isn’t love. This is control. You���ve been controlling me, manipulating me, and I can’t keep living like this. You’re breaking me.”

The words seemed to hit her like a slap. For a moment, she looked genuinely stunned, her face contorting with anger and confusion. “I’m not controlling you!” she screamed, her voice rising. “I love you, Heeseung. I love you more than anyone ever could! You can’t leave me. You can’t!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Heeseung said, his voice breaking. “I’m asking you to leave me. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep living in fear.”

Iseul’s eyes hardened, her lips curling into a snarl. “You think you can leave me? You think you can just walk away?” Her hand shot out, grabbing a vase off the table and throwing it at the wall, the sharp crash filling the room. She moved toward Heeseung in a blur, her hand grabbing his wrist with terrifying force, her nails digging into his skin.

“You’re mine,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “You’ll always be mine. And no one will ever take you from me.”

Before anyone could move, Jungwon stepped forward, placing himself between Iseul and Heeseung, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Iseul, this isn’t the way. This needs to stop. You can’t keep doing this.”

But she only pushed him aside, her face twisted with rage. “You think you can take him from me?” she spat. “Heeseung is mine! You’ll never understand! You’ll never feel what I feel for him!”

The group tried to step in, but the chaos was overwhelming. Iseul was breaking down in front of them, and it was clear—she wasn’t ready to face the truth.

In that moment, Heeseung realized how deep the damage ran. Iseul wasn’t just a woman in love. She was a person broken by years of abuse, unable to comprehend anything beyond control and possession. And no matter how much he wanted to help her, he understood now that he couldn’t fix this alone.

She was too far gone. The confrontation had only pushed her deeper into her spiral, and Heeseung was once again caught in the storm of her fury.

As the confrontation escalated, Iseul’s once-contained demeanor began to unravel before everyone’s eyes. Her face twisted in a way that was almost unrecognizable, the mask of control she had so carefully built over the years cracking under the pressure. She stood there, her chest heaving, the words from Heeseung and his friends hanging in the air like a heavy weight she couldn’t shake off.

Her eyes darted around the room, from one person to the next, as if searching for someone who could make it all stop, someone who could tell her that this wasn’t real—that she wasn’t being exposed, that she wasn’t losing control. But no one came to her rescue. The silence between them grew unbearable. Iseul could feel it—the suffocating reality that she was alone, that the walls she had so carefully built around herself were falling down. Her lips trembled as her hands began to shake.

“You’re all lying,” Iseul whispered, her voice barely audible, yet still sharp with disbelief. Her eyes locked onto Heeseung’s, pleading, desperate. “This isn’t what you think. I love you, Heeseung. I love you more than anyone ever could. You’re mine… I need you.”

Heeseung stood there, heart pounding in his chest. He saw the brokenness in her eyes, the desperation, and the chaos that was beginning to spill out. He hated seeing her like this, but he knew, deep down, it had gone too far. “Iseul, this isn’t love,” he said softly, his voice quivering with both fear and sorrow. “This is control. You’ve been controlling me, manipulating me. I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep being the person you need me to be.”

She took a step back as if struck by the words, her body swaying slightly. “No, no,” she muttered, her voice shaky but louder now. “You can’t leave me, Heeseung. You can’t. I gave you everything. I did everything for you, and you’re going to throw it all away? You—” Her words caught in her throat, her breathing growing shallow and erratic.

Before anyone could react, she stumbled, her legs giving way beneath her as her hands gripped her hair, pulling at it as if she were trying to hold herself together. She collapsed to her knees on the floor, her body shaking violently. The sound that came from her wasn’t human—it was a gut-wrenching, primal sob that seemed to come from deep within her. It was the sound of someone whose mind had finally fractured, someone who had pushed themselves too far for too long.

“I’ve never been good enough for anyone!” she cried out, her voice cracking. “Not for my parents, not for you, Heeseung. I’ve always had to be perfect, always had to be everything everyone wanted me to be. And now you’re all telling me that I’m nothing, that I’m broken. But I am, aren’t I? I’m nothing but a monster.”

Jungwon stepped forward cautiously, his heart aching at the sight of her—this was no longer just a woman possessed by obsession; this was someone who had been destroyed by the years of abuse, who had been crushed by the weight of her own need for control. He knelt beside her, trying to offer some sense of comfort, but he was careful, knowing how volatile she could be.

“Iseul, no one is calling you a monster,” Jungwon said softly, his tone as gentle as he could muster. “You’ve been through a lot. We know that. But what you’re doing to Heeseung isn’t healthy. You’re hurting him—and yourself.”

She looked up at him, her tear-streaked face filled with raw emotion. “You don’t get it,” she spat bitterly, pushing him away as if he were the cause of her pain. “None of you get it. You think you can fix me. You think you can just make me better, make everything okay. But I’m beyond that, okay? I’m not fixable. I was never fixable.”

The group was taken aback by the venom in her voice, but they pressed on. They couldn’t let her spin this any longer, couldn’t let her use her pain as a weapon to hurt others. Heeseung, though his heart was breaking at the sight of her, knew this was the moment when everything would change—when she either broke free of her control or became completely consumed by it.

“Iseul,” Heeseung said softly, stepping closer to her despite his fear. “You are fixable, but you can’t do it alone. You need help, and I can’t be the one to help you anymore. I’ve been trying to be there for you, but it’s hurting both of us. This isn’t love. This isn’t how love is supposed to feel.”

She gasped, her eyes wild with panic. “No! Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his skin with painful intensity. “You can’t leave me, Heeseung. I need you. I can’t breathe without you. Don’t leave me like this. I’ll die without you. I swear I will!”

Heeseung recoiled, his chest tightening as she clung to him, her grip almost suffocating. The desperation in her eyes was chilling, and he could see the spiraling collapse that was unfolding before him. This wasn’t the woman he had once loved. This was someone who had been broken so many times by life and her past that there was nothing left but the need to consume, to possess, to destroy.

“I’m not leaving you, Iseul,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t stay in this toxic cycle anymore. I need to be free. We need to break free from this.”

Her eyes widened, her chest rising and falling erratically as her breath became shallow. “No... no, no, no!” she screamed, her voice rising in pitch until it was a raw, guttural scream that echoed throughout the room. Her face twisted in agony as she sank back to the floor, her hands reaching for anything, for something to hold on to.

“I can’t lose you, Heeseung,” she cried out, her body wracked with sobs. “I can’t lose you... I can’t be alone again.” She curled into herself, her sobs growing louder and more desperate as the weight of her own fractured mind began to collapse in on her.

The group stood frozen, not knowing how to react to this meltdown. They knew that they couldn’t let this continue. They couldn’t let Iseul drag Heeseung down into the abyss with her. But the tragedy was clear—she was so deep in her own torment, so lost in her need for control, that she didn’t see the damage she had caused.

“We’ll help you, Iseul,” Sunghoon said, his voice firm, but sympathetic. “But only if you let us. You need to get help. This can’t keep going on.”

She didn’t respond. Her sobs were the only answer, a sound that tore through the room, raw and vulnerable. Heeseung watched her, torn between the woman he had once known and the monster she had become. He didn’t know if there was a way back for her, but he knew one thing for certain—he couldn’t save her anymore. Not like this.

Iseul’s sobs slowly began to quiet, her body trembling as the weight of her emotional breakdown still clung to her like a heavy blanket. The silence that followed was thick, and the room seemed to close in around her, as though the very air itself was holding its breath. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, but her frantic energy seemed to be ebbing, leaving her more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Heeseung stood a few feet away, his hands trembling as he watched her—watching the woman who had once been so full of life, now reduced to a fragile, broken version of herself. His heart ached for her, but he knew that nothing would ever change unless she truly faced the reality of what was happening between them.

"I-I can't lose you," Iseul whispered hoarsely, her eyes now softer, almost pleading. Her voice was no longer the wild scream it had been moments before, but instead, there was a subtle fragility in her words. "Please, Heeseung... please don't leave me. I can't handle being alone. I can't."

Heeseung’s heart twisted in his chest at the sight of her vulnerability. He could see it now—the rawness, the brokenness that had been hidden behind her need for control. She wasn’t just a woman obsessed with him; she was someone who had suffered deeply, someone who had never been able to find solace or peace. He knew he couldn’t save her on his own, but he also knew that he couldn’t leave her in this state.

“Iseul…” Heeseung started softly, his voice filled with a quiet ache. “I’m not leaving you because I don’t care. I’m not leaving you because I hate you. I’m leaving because I want you to get better. I want you to heal. But you can’t heal when you’re holding on to me like this. You need help, and I can’t be the one to fix you. I’m not strong enough for that, and neither are you.”

Iseul's head hung low as she listened, her fingers curling tightly into her palms as she fought to keep herself composed. She nodded slowly, her breathing still shallow but more controlled now. “I understand,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve been so lost, so selfish... I didn’t realize how much I was pushing you away. I never wanted to hurt you. I just... I don’t know how to exist without you.”

“Iseul…” Heeseung took a tentative step forward, his eyes softening as he reached out, placing a hand gently on her arm. “You don’t have to exist for me. You need to exist for yourself. You need to find yourself again. You can’t keep defining your worth by what I can give you.”

Her eyes flickered up to his, the familiar spark of something once tender shining through the haze of her madness. For a brief moment, it seemed like the woman he had fallen in love with might still be there, buried beneath the layers of fear and possessiveness.

“I’ll go,” she said quietly, her voice quieter than it had been all night. “I’ll get help. I’ll go to therapy… I’ll work on myself. But, Heeseung…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her voice soft but insistent. “I can’t let you go completely. I can’t. I need you. I love you. Can’t we... can’t we still be together? Even just a little? I’ll try. I’ll try to change, I swear.”

The plea in her voice stung, a mixture of desperation and the remnants of the love she still felt for him. Heeseung’s heart clenched again as he processed her words, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to see her like this, but he knew that as much as he cared for her, being with her in this toxic, suffocating state wasn’t fair to either of them.

“I don’t know, Iseul,” Heeseung said quietly, his voice tight with conflict. “I really don’t know. I want to believe you, I do. But it’s going to take time. You can’t just fix everything overnight. I can’t be the one who keeps holding you up while you’re falling apart.”

She nodded, her expression softened, almost resigned, though the longing in her eyes remained. “I’ll try, Heeseung. I promise I will try. Just... please don’t leave me. Please don’t completely shut me out.”

For a moment, Heeseung just stood there, watching her. The room had quieted down, the tension still hanging in the air like a thick fog. Heeseung closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a slow breath. He wanted to help her, he really did, but he knew he couldn’t continue like this—not while she was still so unstable.

“I’ll be here for you, Iseul,” Heeseung said softly, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not abandoning you. But I can’t be everything for you anymore. You need to take responsibility for your own healing. I can’t keep trying to fix you.”

Iseul took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she looked up at him. Her voice was barely a whisper, a plea that hung in the air. “You don’t have to fix me, Heeseung. Just don’t leave me completely. Please. I need you to be here... with me.”

Heeseung’s heart twisted again as he looked at her, seeing the quiet desperation in her gaze. For a moment, he almost gave in. But then he remembered everything that had happened, everything that had brought them to this point. He knew the road ahead was going to be long, and he couldn’t keep enabling her behavior. He couldn’t let his own feelings cloud the truth.

“I’ll be here,” Heeseung finally said, his voice steady but full of sadness. “But I need you to promise me something, Iseul. I need you to promise me that you’ll get the help you need. That you’ll take this seriously. And that you’ll give yourself the time to heal, even if it means we can’t be together for a while.”

Iseul’s eyes softened as she nodded slowly. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice fragile but sincere. “I’ll do anything, Heeseung. I just... I just need you to give me a chance. Just a little one.”

Heeseung hesitated, but then gave a small, pained smile. “We’ll see. But right now, you need to focus on yourself. That’s the most important thing. If we’re going to have a future, it’s going to start with you, Iseul. You.”

She nodded, looking down at her hands for a moment as if processing his words. Then, slowly, she looked up at him with a more composed expression, a quiet determination in her eyes. “I will. I promise.”

As Iseul slowly stood up, her body still trembling slightly from the emotional collapse earlier, Heeseung couldn’t help but feel a mixture of hope and dread. She had agreed to get help, but the road ahead would be difficult. The damage had been done, and he wasn’t sure if they would ever truly be able to go back to the way things were. But for now, all he could do was watch her take the first step toward healing—and hope that, one day, they both might find a way to move forward.

It had been a few months since the chaotic events that had nearly torn Heeseung and Iseul apart. During that time, Iseul had taken the necessary steps to heal, as painful as it had been. She went through therapy, committed herself to understanding her past, confronting the trauma that had shaped her, and taking time to reflect on her own behaviors. Slowly, the sharp edges of her personality that had once been suffocating, even dangerous, began to soften. Therapy had become her sanctuary, a space where she could express her fears, regrets, and emotions, all while learning how to process them in healthy ways.

The change wasn’t immediate, but it was profound. Iseul grew stronger, calmer, and more aware of her own feelings. She started to rebuild herself from the inside out, and the most noticeable change was her appearance. Her once-tired eyes, often filled with anxiety and fear, now sparkled with clarity and confidence. The lines of stress around her face softened, and her smile—once guarded—was now open and genuine. She looked healthier, more vibrant, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The vulnerability that had defined her before was still there, but now it was balanced with strength, a strength born from acceptance and self-growth.

One afternoon, after a long day of therapy and self-care, Iseul decided to visit Heeseung. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and while she was still unsure of their future together, she felt ready to face him—not as the broken person she once was, but as someone who had learned to stand on her own.

It was a Saturday, and Heeseung was with his friends—Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Niki, and Jay—at a café they frequented. They had been talking about everything from their recent plans to life in general when Iseul walked through the door. The bell above the café door chimed softly, but it was the way she walked in that caught everyone’s attention. It was calm and composed, her posture confident, as if she had shed the skin of her former self and emerged into something entirely new.

Heeseung’s eyes locked on her the moment she entered. The shift was subtle at first, but as his gaze lingered on her, the change became undeniable. Iseul had always been beautiful, but now, there was something different about her—something deeper. Her eyes, once filled with tension, now glistened with a calm radiance that made her even more striking. Her long hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves, the strands catching the light in a way that made her look almost ethereal. The clothes she wore were simple, but there was an understated elegance about them. Everything about her screamed maturity, and it was hard for Heeseung to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw her.

The rest of the group noticed it too. They exchanged glances, each of them surprised by the transformation. Sunghoon was the first to speak.

“She looks… different,” he said softly, leaning over to Jake. “Like, in a good way. You can tell she’s been working on herself.”

“I was just about to say the same thing,” Jake replied, his eyes following Iseul’s every movement. “She seems so... peaceful now.”

Iseul walked up to the table, her steps graceful, her eyes meeting Heeseung’s with a quiet confidence. She smiled at him, a genuine, unguarded smile that made his heart swell. The tension between them was still there, but it was softer now—more like the remnants of something that had once been intense but was now being gently set aside.

“Heeseung,” she said, her voice steady and calm, with a warmth he hadn’t heard in months.

“Heeseung, we need to talk,” she added, her eyes soft but earnest.

Heeseung swallowed, unsure of how to react, but the old protective instinct kicked in, and he stood up to greet her. There was a small lump in his throat, but he managed a smile, though it was more hesitant than before.

“Iseul,” he said, the word coming out like a breath of relief, as if he hadn’t realized how much he missed her until this very moment. “You look… different. Good different. How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing a lot better,” Iseul said with a small laugh, though it was laced with a trace of sadness. “It hasn’t been easy, but I’m working on it. I’ve been going to therapy. I’ve been focusing on myself—getting healthier.”

“I can see that,” Heeseung replied, his gaze lingering on her face. “You’ve changed, Iseul. You look… happier. More like yourself. The way you carry yourself, it’s like you’ve found peace.”

Iseul smiled softly, nodding. “I’m getting there. It’s a work in progress, but I’m finally at a place where I can breathe again.”

The group of friends, watching from the side, exchanged looks of approval. They had all been worried about Iseul’s mental state during the worst of it, but now, seeing her this way, they could tell that she had truly made strides.

Just then, Minji walked into the café, and her eyes immediately found Heeseung and Iseul. There was a moment of hesitation, but then Minji smiled warmly and walked over to the group, greeting everyone before her eyes settled on Iseul.

“Hey, Iseul,” Minji said, her tone friendly but curious. “You look... amazing. What’s been going on with you?”

Iseul turned to Minji, offering a soft smile. “I’ve been working on myself. Taking time to get better, to heal. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around, but I’m trying to make things right.”

Minji raised an eyebrow but smiled back. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it wasn’t easy for you. But you’re doing great, I can tell.”

Iseul’s smile widened slightly as she nodded, appreciative of the kind words. Then she turned to Heeseung again, her gaze softening. “I’ve missed you, you know. I’ve missed us. I know things can’t go back to the way they were, but I want us to find a way to move forward, even if it means starting slow.”

Heeseung felt a pang in his chest as he looked at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes that still remained despite her progress. “I’ve missed you too, Iseul,” he admitted, his voice quiet but sincere. “It’s been hard, but I’m glad to see you’re doing better. I just want you to be happy—whether that means with me or not. You deserve to find peace, Iseul.”

The group watched in silence, a sense of relief washing over them. There was no more tension in the air, no more feeling of uncertainty. For the first time in a long while, everything felt *normal*—like there was hope for the future. The heavy weight that had once consumed Iseul seemed to have lifted, and though there were still some unanswered questions between her and Heeseung, it was clear that they were both on a journey of healing.

As the group continued to chat, with Minji teasing Iseul about her newfound serenity and the others sharing small jokes, Heeseung and Iseul found themselves falling into an easy conversation. There was no longer any strain in the way they spoke, no sense of urgency. The quiet bond they once had was slowly beginning to stitch itself back together, thread by thread.

For the first time in a long while, Heeseung felt like there might be hope—for both of them.

As the weeks passed, Heeseung’s interactions with Iseul became more frequent. She had kept her promise to continue with her therapy and was genuinely making progress, slowly but surely. Each time they met, Heeseung saw a new side of her—one that was more open, more willing to accept her flaws, and more determined to heal. Iseul’s growth was visible not just in her emotional stability but in the way she handled situations that would have once triggered a meltdown. She was learning how to manage her insecurities, how to communicate more effectively, and most importantly, how to give space to Heeseung instead of suffocating him with her needs. 

For Heeseung, seeing Iseul like this was both comforting and confusing. There was a part of him that wanted to trust that she had truly changed, but the memory of everything they had gone through still lingered, like a shadow he couldn’t shake. Yet, as he spent more time with her, he began to realize that she wasn’t the same person who had spiraled out of control months ago. There was a maturity in her actions now, a sense of self-awareness that hadn’t been there before. She wasn’t perfect, but she was trying—and for the first time in a long while, Heeseung allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could try again.

One evening, Heeseung sat down with his friends, Jungwon, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Niki, and Minji, at their usual hangout spot. The conversation had steered toward relationships, and naturally, the topic of Iseul came up. Heeseung had been hesitant to bring her up, unsure of how to approach the subject without reigniting the tension that had existed between him and his friends. But tonight, something felt different. He had been spending more time with Iseul, and he needed to talk about it—needed to process what he was feeling.

“I’ve been thinking,” Heeseung began, his voice cautious, yet determined. “About Iseul… about us.”

The table fell silent, and every eye turned to him, some expressions curious, others wary. Minji, who had been sitting next to Heeseung, raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

“You’re really going there, huh?” Minji said, her tone teasing but laced with concern. “Are you sure about this, Heeseung?”

Heeseung hesitated, running a hand through his hair as he looked around at his friends. “I mean… I think she’s different now. I really do. She’s been working on herself—going to therapy, really taking responsibility for everything that happened.”

Jungwon leaned forward, his tone skeptical but still supportive. “We’ve seen the change in her. Iseul is calmer, more stable. But I’m gonna be real with you, man,” he added, his gaze serious, “You’ve gotta be careful. We’ve all seen how she can flip. No one’s forgotten how things went down.”

The others nodded in agreement, the weight of the memories still hanging over them like a dark cloud. Jake crossed his arms, his face tense.

“I don’t know, Heeseung,” he said, his voice low. “I get that you’re trying to give her a second chance, but after everything that went down, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk. What if she falls apart again? What if you get dragged back into that mess?”

“I get it,” Heeseung said, his voice quieter now, a trace of uncertainty creeping in. “But I see something in her now that I didn’t see before. She’s really trying to change. I want to be there for her.”

Minji watched Heeseung closely, sensing the conflict in his words. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not saying she hasn’t changed, Heeseung. I’ve seen it too. But… you have to be careful. We all know how intense things got with her. If she snaps again—if things go back to how they were—are you ready to handle that? And are you sure you want to? Because this isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about everyone around you, too.”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered down to the table, his mind racing as he processed their words. He understood their concerns, but a part of him couldn’t let go of the hope that Iseul was different now. That the person she had become wasn’t the same one who had suffocated him with her possessiveness. But Minji’s words stung, because they were true. He wasn’t just diving back into this relationship alone; he had his friends to consider, too. They had all witnessed how volatile Iseul had been, how dangerous it had been for Heeseung to be involved with her when she was at her worst.

Sunghoon spoke up next, his voice calm but steady. “I agree with Minji. You’ve gotta be cautious, Heeseung. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And none of us want to go through that again. But if you really believe she’s changed, and you want to take that risk, then you should. Just don’t be naive about it. Set boundaries. Keep your guard up. Don’t let her back in just because you’re hoping she’s different.”

Heeseung nodded, the weight of his friends' words settling heavily in his chest. He appreciated their concern, but he also knew they weren’t going to understand his feelings completely. Only he knew the subtle shifts he had seen in Iseul—the small, telling moments where she had chosen to communicate instead of lash out, where she had shown patience instead of control.

“I hear you,” Heeseung said softly, his voice filled with resolve. “I know what I’m getting into, but I think I owe it to both of us to at least try. I want to believe in her. I want to believe she’s different.”

Minji leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied him. “Just promise me one thing,” she said seriously. “If things start to go south again—if you start feeling like you’re losing yourself, or if she gets possessive again—you’ll step back. You won’t let yourself get lost in it. Okay?”

Heeseung met her gaze, her words striking a chord deep inside him. “I promise,” he said with a quiet nod. “If things go sideways, I’ll walk away.”

The group was silent for a moment, each of them processing Heeseung’s decision. They didn’t agree with it, but they understood it. They had been his friends through everything, and they wanted what was best for him. All they could do now was stand by his side, no matter what happened next.

Later that evening, after the conversation had died down, Heeseung texted Iseul. He was about to meet her at a quiet park, where they had agreed to talk. As he waited for her to arrive, his mind raced. He had just shared his thoughts with his friends, who were concerned about him, and part of him wondered if they were right. But there was another part of him—one that couldn’t deny how much he still cared for Iseul, how much he wanted her to succeed. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. But maybe, just maybe, it was worth trying.

When Iseul finally arrived, her face lit up when she saw him, and Heeseung felt his heart give a small, hopeful flutter. She had come so far, and while there was still a long road ahead of them, Heeseung couldn’t help but feel like they were taking the first steps toward something better.

“I’ve missed you,” Iseul said quietly, her voice soft but full of sincerity.

“I’ve missed you too,” Heeseung replied, his tone more certain now than it had been before.

They stood there, just the two of them, in the quiet park, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt possible.

As weeks turned into months, Heeseung and Iseul continued their tentative steps toward rebuilding what had once been a complicated and volatile relationship. Both were aware of the gravity of the situation—Heeseung because he had witnessed firsthand how easily things could spiral out of control, and Iseul because she knew the emotional and psychological toll her actions had once taken on him. But they were determined to take things slow, to honor the progress they had both made, and to rebuild their trust from the ground up.

The next step in their journey was one that neither of them had anticipated: learning to navigate life as individuals first, and as a couple second. For Iseul, this meant continuing her therapy, staying committed to the healing process, and allowing herself to lean on Heeseung in a way that wasn’t suffocating. For Heeseung, it meant learning how to be supportive without feeling like he was walking on eggshells, and not allowing himself to get lost in the dynamics of their past relationship.

One evening, Heeseung invited Iseul to join him and his friends for a casual dinner at a local restaurant, something they hadn’t done in months. This was a small but significant step forward for both of them, as it marked the first time that Heeseung had openly included Iseul in his social circle again. It wasn’t lost on either of them how much this moment meant—it was a sign of the trust they had been rebuilding, even if it was still fragile.

As they walked into the restaurant, Iseul’s heart raced. She had been working hard on her social anxiety, on her tendency to shut herself off from the world, but being in a public space with Heeseung’s friends still made her feel exposed. Yet, she reminded herself that she had made progress. She had earned this moment. She had worked so hard to get here, and she wasn’t going to let fear take it away.

“Are you nervous?” Heeseung asked quietly as they were seated at a large table, the others chatting animatedly around them.

“A little,” Iseul admitted, her voice soft but honest. “I just… I don’t want to mess things up. I know I’ve done a lot of damage in the past.”

Heeseung reached across the table, his fingers brushing gently over hers, grounding her. “I know, but I’m here with you. You’re not alone in this.”

Iseul smiled at him, grateful for his words, but still unsure of herself. The reality was that she knew this was just another step, another test. She had to prove to herself, to Heeseung, and to his friends that she was truly ready for a fresh start. There were still moments when she felt like the old version of herself, the one consumed by jealousy and fear, but she also knew that she had changed, and that she was capable of something better.

As the night went on, Iseul gradually started to relax. The conversations flowed, the laughter was genuine, and the atmosphere was warm. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was truly part of the group, not as an outsider or someone to be pitied, but as someone who was allowed to be herself. 

Minji, who had been quietly observing Iseul throughout the evening, leaned over and whispered to Heeseung, “She’s different, you know? I can see it. She’s more confident now. More at ease with herself.”

Heeseung nodded, his gaze softening as he watched Iseul interact with the others. “She really is. I’m proud of her.”

The night ended on a high note, with everyone joking and laughing as they said their goodbyes. Heeseung walked Iseul to her car, his hand casually resting on her lower back as they walked through the parking lot.

“I’m really proud of you tonight,” Heeseung said, his voice sincere. “You were amazing.”

Iseul stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him. “You’re proud of me?” Her eyes were wide, as if she still couldn’t fully believe that Heeseung was seeing her progress.

“Of course I am,” Heeseung replied, his gaze steady. “You’ve come so far. It’s not easy, but I can see how much you’ve worked to be better. You’ve earned this moment.”

Tears welled up in Iseul’s eyes, though they were different from the tears she used to shed. These were tears of gratitude, of relief, because for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was truly on the right path. 

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” Iseul whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Heeseung gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the lone tear that had escaped. “You could’ve,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you didn’t have to. I’m glad I was here.”

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, everything else faded away. They were two people who had come a long way—individually and together—and there was no rush, no pressure. Whatever the future held, they were both learning how to navigate it, one step at a time.

In the weeks that followed, Heeseung and Iseul found themselves continuing to build on this newfound sense of balance. They were learning how to give each other space, to communicate more openly, and to respect the boundaries that had once been a point of contention. Heeseung was still wary of the past, of what Iseul had been capable of when she was at her lowest, but he also couldn’t deny the feelings he still had for her. Those feelings had never truly gone away, even when things were at their darkest. And now, with every passing day, he saw more and more of the woman he had once fallen for—a woman who was growing, evolving, and becoming someone worthy of his trust again.

Iseul, on the other hand, knew that her journey was far from over. She had come to understand that her past actions were not an excuse for her mistakes, and that healing was an ongoing process. But every step forward, every small victory, was a testament to the strength she had inside her. And as much as she wanted to be with Heeseung, she knew she had to focus on herself first. She was learning to love herself, to find peace without relying on someone else to fix her, and that was the most important step she could take.

The road ahead was still uncertain, and there would be moments of doubt and fear, but both Heeseung and Iseul had come to understand that they didn’t have to face it alone. Together, they had the strength to move forward, no matter how slow or difficult the journey might be. They were learning to build a foundation of trust, respect, and mutual growth—and that was the first step in creating something that could withstand the challenges of the past.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And that, to them, was enough.

[tenthousandyearsx]

...suddenly a breaking news ticker appeared. [Seseong Guild Leader Sung Hyunjae, Wedding Scheduled for January 1st.] …Huh? I blinked. What? What? Gyeol and I both gaped. It was time, I guess. He was planning to get married before he turned forty. Since next year would be the last year of his thirties, I could understand. No matter how you look at it, thirties and forties feel different, right? Yeah, better do it before it’s too late. It’s sudden, but I can understand. Wait a minute, though—he didn’t get married before the regression, did he? And who is he marrying? Wasn't he dating no one? The first of January wasn’t far off, so why rush into a wedding as if frying beans in a flash of lightning? Is he showing his skill attributes by getting married suddenly? – Ah, ah. Gyeol, who was about to call out to me, closed his mouth again. As expected, Sanchez, who had been staring at the TV in shock, spoke to us. [...] At Sanchez's words, Gyeol tugged on my shoulder and shouted. – Dad, is that real?! “Well, I don’t know. I never saw any signs of dating. Did they fall for each other during a party or something?” Could that be it? But with who? No matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t think of anyone who might have been in a relationship with Sung Hyunjae. After all, that guy wasn’t the type to take an interest in anyone... It wouldn’t be Chief Song, would it? Surely not. But then again, who else could it be but Chief Song? What is this? Could this only happen in America? Both are Korean, so they’d have to follow Korean law. Could they have gotten U.S. citizenship in just five days? For an S-class hunter, dual citizenship would be easy to obtain. ...So where should I send my congratulatory gift? Sung Hyunjae is rich, so should I send it to Chief Song? No, wait, there’s no way those two are getting married! I don’t know about Sung Hyunjae, but there’s no way Chief Song would go along with that! – Dad, dad, are you okay? “Uh, yeah. But seriously, who’s bold enough to... Did they fall for his face? You shouldn’t marry someone just for their looks. Though, he is quite wealthy.” Marriage, huh? I wonder if Sung Hyunjae’s wedding will have a buffet. Who will sit at the family seats? I’ve never heard anything about the Seseong Guild Leader’s parents. But since we’re somewhat close, should I offer to MC the wedding? Usually, it’s a friend of the groom who does it. But I can’t have Chief Song do it. [It has not yet been confirmed, but they are said to be an S-class awakened.] The announcer's voice echoed from the TV. What? S-class? No way, it can’t really be Chief Song, can it?! [The individual was spotted to be a woman in her twenties, but nothing is confirmed–] “Do you have no conscience?!” Even if she’s in her late twenties, that’s a ten-year age gap! No way, I can’t MC this wedding. If by any chance it turns out to be a young woman in her early twenties, I’ll ruin this wedding myself for the sake of business honor. After that, the TV didn’t offer any more useful information. S-class hunters even make breaking news with things like this, huh? Well, if they marry a foreigner and move to another country, it would become a national issue. I looked at Sanchez with desperate eyes. “Aren’t you curious about what’s going on? I happen to have the direct number of the Seseong Guild Leader, so just one call–let me make one call!” [...] However, Sanchez shook his head firmly and told me to wait here before stepping outside again. [...]

“Sung Hyunjae-ssi, if this marriage that was announced today is something you wanted, please strike me with lightning right now.” Three seconds. 3, 2, 1. No lightning. Guess I can go ahead and stop this. [...]

“What the hell is Sung Hyunjae up to? Is he really too busy to send a single message?” I opened the messaging app. [America’s Hero^^] I saw my last message to Sung Hyunjae, where I had cursed at him. It was nonsense after he had complimented my outfit, saying it looked good on me. “…I guess we’ve sort of become friends, huh.” So I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know. [If you don’t send a wedding invitation by today, I’m coming for you.] [...] Come to think of it, how many times has this happened now? His birthday party invite, he ghosted me without replying, then I barged in and blew up his house. The cruise was wrecked, and the hotel wasn’t spared either. So Sung Hyunjae must have intentionally not sent the invitation, knowing I'd ruin the wedding venue. Was that the signal he was sending, that he wanted me to destroy it? [...] “Yerim-ie, I guess we’ll have to attend the wedding too.”

– The S Classes that I Raised – Chapter 603: Wedding Season

[winterpeta1s]

teehee what r some of ur bunnydoll headcanons <3

Hii, depends on if we're talking about headcanons that could fit the canon or that are just wishful thinking on my part haha

One of them is that i think Jax is canonically the only person Ragatha is genuine with, in the sense that she doesn't hide that she dislikes him. And maybe she secretly enjoys arguing with him for that reason, she seeks his attention just as much as he seeks hers, if you pay attention she is always searching for reasons to confront him or scold him even when it's not that necessary, (maybe she takes out her bad feelings on him?) Either way i think she's glad that Jax exists somehow, it keeps things balanced and maybe it makes her look better in comparison? (I love my toxic parents)

Another is that Jax can see right through her act of attempt at niceness thats why he cuts her short when she tries to comfort him, like "shut up i know you're just trying to be what you're not and it doesn't fit you it's annoying"

I think most of the circus can sense that Ragatha isn't pure genuine but Jax doesn't hide that he does, my headcanon is that he's always observing her (and probably observing everyone else at the circus to know their weaknesses) and paying attention and thats how he knows what she likes or dislikes but he will never admit that she's his favorite to look at (my wishful thinking)

Jax would be very sad if something happened to her though, I think they both care for each other in a way, or at least they both really seek for each other's attention subconsciously in the show

I think the headcanon that they were exes if something i believe in more after last episodes but who knows

Now if we go into shipping territory i think as a couple they would be way too physically attached to each other, not in public though!

Ragatha strikes me as someone who needs physical touch all the time, and Jax doesn't mind.

He flirts by playing with her hair and ribbon, he flirts by teasing and mocking her, sometimes he just picks her up and lifts her on his shoulders in public to embarrass her

(Did i do that right? This headcanon thing?)

[saveyourblood]

Roll the Dice (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.” You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?” “Give someone a lap dance.” The one where you're best friends with Buck and Eddie, the three of you are drunk, and the topic of lap dances comes up.

Word Count: 2.4k Prompt (from @happyhauntt): buddie and reader are hanging out and drinking maybe and maybe they're watching magic mike as a joke or they had a call to a strip club earlier that day and buck asks reader who they think would give a better lapdance, buck or eddie, reader bluescreens and they both give a demonstration. A/N: This was such a fun write! Thanks for letting me steal your idea, Ollie! You can find their work on AO3 too. :^) Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays everyone! Warnings: Spice (not smut), drinking, mentions of vomiting

It started with beer. 

Well, it started with the boys drinking beer. 

You’ve never been a big fan of beer. You’ll occasionally indulge in something on tap at a fancy bar, but other than that, it isn’t your drink. And that cheap shit that Buck buys at the corner store? Absolutely not. 

So, it started with the boys drinking beer and you drinking a canned cocktail. 

See, Buck may have bad taste, but he has a good heart. He always has a 6-pack of cheap beer in his fridge, but since you started coming over, you notice he always has a 12-pack of ready-to-drink canned cocktails. You know he doesn’t drink them; he buys them for you. 

You really don’t drink that much, in terms of both frequency and amount. It takes a singular drink for you to feel a nice buzz, and really, that’s all you need. You’ve never had the desire to get blackout drunk, and more than three drinks gives you a raging headache in the morning. 

You were only going to have one, maybe two drinks, just like you usually do. 

But then Eddie found the fucking tequila. 

“Where’d you even get that?” you giggle. You'd be embarrassed by the sound if you were even a little bit sober. Thankfully, you’re halfway through your second can, and any sense of embarrassment is filled by the warm pool of alcohol in your stomach. 

“Maddie made margaritas the night I moved in,” Buck says, raising his beer bottle to his lips. 

The boys are both on their third beers, but between the lower alcohol content and their stronger tolerances, they aren’t as drunk as you are. Hopefully, the tequila will even the score. 

“Where did she buy it?” Eddie laughs as he inspects the bottle. 

It’s cheap: you can tell that much by looking at it. It’s a 1.75 liter plastic bottle — not exactly top shelf. You expected nothing less from Maddie, since she doesn’t strike you as a girl who sips high-end tequila. No, she’s more like the girl who makes way too strong margaritas and bullies her brother into taking shots in the kitchen. 

Buck shrugs. “Grocery store, probably.”

Eddie starts looking through the cabinets. “You got a blender?”

Buck snorts. “I have shot glasses.”

“I’m not doing shots,” you laugh. “Tequila shots and I have… a bad relationship.” 

Eddie gives you a look. “What type of relationship?” 

“Whatever type ends in me throwing up in someone’s sink.”

Buck tips his head back and cackles. “You did that?! You?!”

“I just graduated from the Academy and went out with some classmates to celebrate,” you explain, cheeks flushing as you smile. “It started with bar hopping and ended with tequila shots at someone’s house.”

“Sounds like it actually ended with you throwing up in someone’s sink,” Eddie points out. 

“And you’re trying to make it happen again!” You accuse as Eddie continues scouring the kitchen. “Shame on you, Diaz!”

“Hey, it would be nice to see the most professional member of the 118 get a little crazy,” Buck says. 

You snort again. “I’m the most professional member of the 118?”

“Professional isn’t the right word,” Eddie says, finally finding a cocktail shaker. 

“Formal?” Buck proposes, looking to the other man. 

Eddie hums in consideration as he fills the shaker with ice, leaving the tequila on the island. “Classy?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, that’s not it either.”

Eddie sets the shaker, now filled with ice, on the island. He then opens the fridge door and comes back with lime juice. “Proper?”

“Proper,” Buck agrees, leaning his hip on the island. His body is turned towards Eddie, watching him as he pours the ingredients into the shaker. 

“Proper,” you echo, your lips wrapping around the word as you say it. “How exactly am I proper?” 

“I don’t know,” Buck says after taking another sip. “Just… the way you carry yourself, I guess.”

“How specific.”

Buck flicks a beer cap, previously sitting on the island, at you. You try to catch it, but it slides off the table before you can catch it. You flip him off. 

“Not so proper anymore,” Eddie remarks. 

The tequila takes you by the hand and leads the three of you into Buck’s living room. You’re on your second margarita on the rocks, courtesy of Edmundo Diaz. The boys decide to take two shots each, back to back, and simply watching them kind of made you sick. 

“You are so full of shit!” you yell. 

You don’t know much at this moment, other than the fact that you’re completely and entirely drunk. Not wasted, not blackout. You’re in that sweet spot where you’re sober enough to know that you’re being obnoxious but too intoxicated to care. As someone who normally presents as ‘proper’ (apparently),  it’s a combination akin to fire and kerosene — absolutely ruthless. 

“I am not!” Buck laughs.

Buck claims he’s never had a lap dance, and you don’t believe him for a second. 

You’re not entirely sure how you got on this topic. It definitely didn’t start like this, that you’re almost entirely most likely probably sure of. It had something to do with the ‘old partners’ discussion. Or maybe the ‘craziest night out’ swapping of stories. It’s hard to tell — you’ve cycled through several topics tonight, and you’ll be lucky to remember half of them. 

“Eddie, do you believe him?”

Eddie chuckles as he raises his hands. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Like you or Buck would let that happen.

“What about you, hotshot?” Buck asks, cocking an eyebrow. “You ever had a lap dance?” 

Eddie’s eyes narrow slightly, almost like he’s sizing up Buck. It makes the alcohol in your belly burn a little warmer. 

“Once,” Eddie eventually answers. 

You turn your head to the side like a curious dog. “Oh?”

“Do tell,” Buck says, leaning forward. 

“It was at my shitty excuse of a bachelor party,” Eddie explains, taking a sip of his fourth beer. “One of my friends in Texas insisted. We went out to a strip club, he paid for it, and… that’s it.” 

“He paid for it,” you echo. “What a gentleman.” 

Sitting in the armchair, Eddie gently kicks your leg on the coffee table. You giggle, pulling both your legs back onto the couch. Buck, at the other end of the couch, puts his feet in your lap. 

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he observes. “Have you?”

You snort. “Have I ever had a lap dance?”

“Or given one.”

You press into the nailbed on one of Buck’s toes using your thumb. He yelps and pulls his legs back. 

“Half an hour ago, you were calling me ‘proper.’ Now, you’re asking if I’ve given someone a lap dance,” you recall. You turn to Eddie. “Can you believe him?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says as he shakes his head. “...Have you, though?”

Buck cackles as you kick Eddie’s leg. 

“I’ve never given anyone a lap dance,” you answer loudly. “I almost got one, though.” 

Both the boys raise their eyebrows.

“Do you remember that call we went on a few months back? To a male strip club?”

“Yeahhh,” Buck says. At some point, he replaced his beer bottle with the tequila bottle, which he’s now cradling like a baby. “What was that place called? Thirsty?”

“Just Thirst, I think,” Eddie remarks. “The one where a dancer rolled his ankle, right?”

You nod. “One of his buddies offered me a dance for being such a great first responder.”

Buck smiles and takes a swig of the tequila, wincing as it goes down. You nudge his knee, then pull your fingers towards yourself, gesturing for the bottle. Buck’s smile looks a little more cocky, but he hands the bottle over anyways. 

“You didn’t accept, huh?”

You sip a  little more of the tequila than you should. You can’t help it — it goes down so easily, leaving nothing but fuzzy warmth in its wake. You’ll regret it tomorrow, but for now, you’re basking in it. “Not really my thing.”

“Not even for the story?” Eddie asks. 

“You don’t get to be the ‘proper’ one by doing something ‘for the story,’” you counter. 

Eddie makes a face of contemplation as he reaches for the bottle. “Fair.” 

“You are really hung up on that word,” Buck notes. 

“It was… surprising, that’s all,” you chuckle. 

Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.”

You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?” 

“Give someone a lap dance.” 

You can feel your face get hot. You swallow the lump that suddenly took residence in your throat. 

Meanwhile, Eddie laughs. “You’ve never gotten a lap dance, but you think you can give one?” 

Buck shrugs, leaning one elbow on his knee. “Why not? I’ve seen Magic Mike.” 

“You’ve seen Magic Mike but never gotten a lap dance,” Eddie continues after taking a swig of liquor. “That makes sense.” 

You reach for the bottle, which Eddie grants you. You take a long drink, gulping a few times. Pulling the bottle back, you use your thumb to wipe your bottom lip. “Do your worst, Buckley.”

He turns his head to stare at you. He huffs out a laugh, looking at you the whole time. “What?” 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” you continue, leaning back in the couch. You prop one arm on the back and the other on the armrest, the tequila bottle hitting the end table in the process. “You’ve never given a lap dance, I’ve never gotten one. We’ll pop each other’s cherries.” 

You’d never say any of this sober. Shit, you’d never say any of this two drinks in. You’re in so much deeper than that now; between the margs and the sips, you’ve had at least 6 shots. You can practically feel the alcohol in your blood. It’s hot, thick, and wanting. 

You're 100% throwing up in Buck's sink tomorrow.

You blink, and Buck is on top of you. His hands press into the back of the couch, holding his weight so he can be face-to-face with you. If the booze in your veins is hot, then his breath on your lips is fucking scalding. 

He lifts his hips and brings them back down in a rippling motion: he’s grinding on you. You giggle, high-pitched and shameless. You move your hands to cover your mouth. You can’t wrap your head around the idea that this is actually happening. 

Buck sits up straighter in your lap. He’s careful to keep his weight on his knees, which are on either side of your legs. He puffs his chest before rolling his shoulders forward and his ass backwards on your thighs in a fluid motion. You can feel the friction of his pants on your bare legs. You thank your past self for choosing to wear shorts. 

He gently takes your wrists, moving your hands from your mouth to his chest. He’s fully clothed, so you’re dragging your hands down his sweater. Still, you can feel the rippling of his muscles under his shirt. You throw your head back in laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it, but you know the burning in your stomach is no longer entirely thanks to the liquor. 

“Not bad,” Eddie critiques from his seat. 

You laugh harder. 

“What, you can do better?” Buck challenges. 

Eddie narrows his eyes again before smirking. He pushes himself out of the chair, shooing Buck away with his hand. 

Buck raises his hands in surrender, turning on one knee before flopping on the couch beside you. 

“This isn’t happening,” you laugh, shaking your head like you’re trying to wake yourself up from a dream. 

You’ve had a crush on both of them since the first time you saw them. How could you not? They are completely and utterly gorgeous men. When you realized how funny and caring they both are, it just sealed the deal. You never, in your wildest imagination, pictured yourself in a situation like this with either of them, let alone both of them. 

Not that you’re complaining, of course.

Eddie takes Buck’s place, only he’s towering over you since he’s standing instead of sitting. He puts his hands on your sides, trailing down to your thighs. You shudder under his touch, hoping it isn’t noticeable. The way the corner of his mouth turns up tells you that it’s definitely noticeable. 

Eddie’s hands reach your knees, which he loops his fingers under. In a swift motion, he pulls your legs up and presses his body against yours. You yelp in surprise and wrap your legs around his back, somehow pulling him closer. 

His hands move to your back, and he picks you up. You yelp again, astonished by the ease he can lift you. You shouldn’t be so shocked, considering his career. When his grasp moves from your back to your ass, though, he’s no longer Firefighter Diaz; he’s Eddie, the man you have a crush on. And the man who’s currently holding your ass. 

Eddie turns on his heel and carefully lays you on Buck’s coffee table, which makes you cackle again. Your laughter dies in your throat when Eddie places himself over you again. Your chests are touching, as are your noses. 

You look into Eddie’s eyes, and it’s as if you can suddenly read his mind. “Dancers aren’t supposed to kiss the clientele.”

Eddie smiles again. It’s the kind where only one corner of his mouth curls up, and his lips shift to the side. “Good thing I’m not a dancer.”

His lips meet yours, and it’s nothing but heat. He tastes like a mix of cheap beer and tequila, and if you weren’t already, you could get drunk off of it. Your tongues meet and separate like lovers on a dance floor. When you’re out of breath, you wonder if you could suck the air out of his lungs, just to keep you connected to him for a little longer. 

Eddie pulls away first, his chest heaving desperately for air. 

“You lose,” Buck remarks. 

“How did I lose?”

“It was a competition?” you interject. 

“It’s called a lap dance,” Buck points out. “That wasn’t in her lap.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. They eventually settle on your mouth. “Eh, I think I won.” 

[ditzydarci]

BODYGUARD

warnings: use of y/n, alcohol use.

Rafe Cameron wasn’t the kind of man who settled down. Known for his wild streak, his devil-may-care grin, and a reputation that preceded him in Kildare County, he lived his life like a lone wolf—untamed and unbothered. But when his ranch work was done, and the sun dipped low behind the hills, you could always find him at the Last Call Saloon, a whiskey in hand and mischief in his eyes.

Tonight was no different.

Or so he thought.

Rafe had barely taken his usual spot at the bar when the buzz around the room reached him. Whispers of excitement floated through the air, and he noticed the way heads were turning toward the small stage in the corner. That’s when he saw her.

She wasn’t just another pretty face. No, she was the face.

The one that had been plastered on billboards, album covers, and gossip rags all over the South. Y/N, the Texas-born country singer who had taken Nashville by storm. What the hell was she doing in a placelike this?

His question was soon answered.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the bartender called, raising a beer to the room, “we’ve got a real treat for you tonight. Please welcome the one and only Y/N!”

The crowd erupted, and she stepped onto a table instead of the stage, her boots clunking against the wood as she strummed her guitar.

Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She was younger than him, too young, if you asked anyone with a lick of sense. But something about her captivated him. Her voice was a blend of honey and heartbreak, her lyrics raw and honest, carrying the weight of someone who had lived through more than she let on.

She locked eyes with him mid-song, and it was like the rest of the bar disappeared. For a split second, she faltered, her fingers slipping slightly on the strings, but she recovered quickly, her smile curving into something that could only be described as trouble.

When the set ended, Rafe thought about leaving. He didn’t need the temptation, and he sure as hell didn’t need to get involved with someone like her. But he stayed, and when she made her way to the bar, he was waiting.

“You always put on a show like that?” he asked, tipping his hat as she approached.

She smirked, resting her guitar against the bar. “Only when the mood strikes. You enjoy it?”

“Let’s just say you’ve got my attention,” he said, his tone laced with a playful edge.

“Is that so?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “And here I thought cowboys were supposed to be quiet types.”

“Depends on the cowboy,” he replied, his grin widening.

Their banter was easy, but as the minutes passed, Rafe noticed something. She kept glancing over her shoulder, her fingers drumming nervously against her glass. Finally, he leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“You looking for someone, or trying to avoid them?”

Her smile faltered, just for a second. “Little of both,” she admitted.

Before he could press further, the bar door swung open, and a man stepped inside. He was tall, broad, and carrying an air of authority that made the room quiet down. Rafe noticed the way her shoulders tensed immediately.

“Friend of yours?” he asked, his voice low.

“Not exactly,” she muttered.

The man’s eyes swept the room, landing on her, and a grin spread across his face—one that made Rafe’s blood run cold. He didn’t know what the story was, but he didn’t like the way the guy was looking at her.

Rafe straightened, stepping just slightly in front of her. “You want me to handle this?”

She looked at him, surprised, then smirked. “You offering to be my bodyguard, cowboy?”

He shrugged, his voice calm but firm. “If you need one.”

The man started toward them, and before Rafe could say another word, she grabbed his arm.

“Alright, bodyguard,” she said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of nerves and amusement, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

What Rafe didn’t know was that stepping in tonight would be the start of something he wasn’t prepared for. He’d protected her in that moment, but in the weeks to come, he’d find himself guarding more than just her safety, he’d be guarding his heart, too.

[uselessbard1031]

Snowflakes & Sunshine -- Sevika X Chem Baron! Reader (C1 Preview -- AO3 link at end)

You can hear your captive before you can see her. Three of your largest men drag her into your hideout, yet still she is grunting and growling as she tries to fight them off. All the theatrics. Sevika really did live up to her reputation, now didn't she?

You tuck the book you were reading away into the built-in wood shelves of your basement hovel just in time for the twins (Ratchet and Clank) to shove her forward and remove the blindfold from her grey eyes. Your captive stops fighting, instead glaring at every shadow and corner, daring it to attack. As she takes in the room, you pour yourself a cup of tea from the kettle on your single burner stove. It sits between your cot of a bed and the entrance to your bathroom. After that, it's your desk and the bookshelf along with an old five time hand-me-down loveseat in desperate need of a reupholster. The buttons on the tufts don't match and two have popped straight off. But it was here when you got here and was comfortable enough for a seat.

“What is this dump?” Sevika scoffs. Some of the hair from her half-back ponytail falls in front of her eyes. She blows it back the way a bull does before it charges. 

“My office,” you respond simply, leaning against the front of your old wooden desk. “It's where you'll be staying until your boss pays up. You're free to explore the other rooms too, once you cool off a little.”

“No locks?” She half scoffs half laughs. “No chains?”

“Unless you try to leave or attack me, I don't find them necessary.”

With a disbelieving -- no, challenging -- grin the woman turns for the door instantly.

“Do you want locks and chains?” You sip your tea. “Kinky.”

“You can't stop me,” she says it like a fact. Which it is. She's easily twice your size. A fight is unlikely to go in your favour. Good thing you don't plan to fight.

“No,” you agree. “But Brutus can. Brutus?” The burly man comes in from the hallway to block the door. To block her path. If he were to enter your room, he'd have to duck. And bend his knees. And maybe squeeze his shoulders together too. Good thing he's not entering yet. “If she tries to leave, chain her up. I think she likes it.”

Sevika turns. She can't face him. But she can more than face you. 

“You don't know who you're messing with here,” she warns. How cliche. “Silco has a lot on his plate right now. The last thing he needs is to be wasting time with some nobodies so cowardly they had to jump me to get me here.”

Silco needs her. Hopefully more than he needs is attention to be elsewhere. He won't fight you. No. Like she said, you're nobodies. Fringe at best in the chem baron game. So he won't waste the men or the time. He wants Sevika back? He'll just pay you off. Deal with you later. If he feels like he can crush your forces without trying, then he'll leave you in the palm of his hand for now -- if only not to strain his wrist with the fist he'd need to make to end you. Besides, he's focused on Jinx. You had it on good authority that the girl's favourite holiday was the one coming up. Even better authority said that your gift to her was about to arrive. 

You crack a smirk. “You’re just a ray of optimism, Sunshine.” 

She growls at the nickname. You laugh, pushing yourself off of the desk.

“Get cozy,” you say, patting her cheek. She jerks her head away, a threat in the way she bares her teeth. “I think there's going to be snow for Christmas.”

There is indeed snow for Christmas. Of course there is. And it's all thanks to you. 

You see, Zaun hasn't seen snow for the last decade and a half due to this obnoxious Piltovian factory built right above the promenade level. It's wide and flat and pumps all of its smog and runoff down to your city. Between it and the bridge, about three quarters of Zaun has had only the rain of pollutants in all this time. Someone had to blow it up. With the workers on a union strike far away and safe from the crossfire? That someone became you.

The explosion is enough to rattle down the valley walls of the city and wake every alleycat and drunkard left out on the streets. Snow falls at first in a big white sheet that covers everything from the ground to the rooftops. Then it doesn't stop; a flurry of soft white dots like horizontal stars in the window. Outside the main door of your hideout (a bookstore and cafe offering both free books and coffee on most days when your heart strings are pulled by someone hopeful but broke), it's like a small white step has appeared; one stair up closer to the opulence of those who live above. A few people leave their homes. At first, they're curious, then, rather swiftly, curiosity turns to wonder and awe and snowball fights and snow angels. For once, it'll be a white Chsirmas in Zaun. 

You notice Sevika looking out the window and have to chuckle. Though her tough girl mask attempts to cover it, there's this sparkle like a snowflake in her steel eyes. That childlike magic of a snow day beckons her the same as everyone else only, she fights it off with a stick.

“Brutus!” You call over your shoulder. The giant appears between two tall oak bookshelves. “Get the cocoa barrels from the basement. Make sure everyone's got a scarf and mittens. I'm taking our new pet outside.”

...Continued on Ao3

[quirkyfries]

Ruin ramble because writing his pov is interesting

Do you ever notice that Ruin gets really self depreciative about himself sometimes? (Maybe not quite self depreciative, but highlighting things about himself.) Implying vulnerability in a way that can almost come off as a joke if it weren't for his tone of voice. He says he hasn't been safe in a long time, it would be nice to sleep for once, wouldn't his death be hilarious? It comes off as a cry for help, but he states it as fact, he's convinced it won't change.

He's very stubborn about what he's done. He had nothing left to lose. No, there was absolutely no other way he could've gone about destroying the creator, he'd spent years considering his options. Yes, Solar was collateral, unfortunate. Those lives were a necessary sacrifice. He had to do it. There was no other way.

To him, he chose the lesser amount of people in the trolley problem. That was the morally correct thing to do in the circumstances he was given, lives would have been taken either way. He had to do it. (He could've walked away from the lever that switched the rails, but that would be the self serving option, wouldn't it? To move on?)

The most interesting part about it to me is, why does Ruin keep on going? All he's known is pain and suffering in some shape or another, he had nothing to live for after his goal was completed. All he'd ever known was bad, bad, bad, vindicated release, a little bit more bad, and then nothing. He was ready to die, he didn't know where to go.

Then came along this new dimension, one he'd apparently accidentally created through his actions. For someone who has nothing to gain or lose, wouldn't this be a nice chance of pace? To look forward to something nice that was more or less your responsibility in a weird way, to cultivate something good for once after a life of bad? To be able to take the place of your abuser, break that cycle? This new dimension is his reason to keep going, he will see this one good thing through if he can help it. Even if he isn't particularly liked by his migrated peers.

But he still isn't secure. There are enemies he'd made, the insurmountable weight of lives on his shoulders, and a new uncertain freedom of identity. (Granted, he still has to lie to some people to get by. I more mean his own Creator, the Virus act, and Nexus + Dark Sun here. Ruin having to strike deals and bargain for his life and act against his own morals to survive. But those are gone. When had Ruin last acted like himself, truly? He had barely been able to define himself as an Eclipse before everything bad happened.)

Does Ruin hate himself? I don't know, he's very adamant about hating what he had to do, but would do it again. He believes he was right, he's even defensive about it to several people, but there is still something that's bothering him. Does he hate himself for pressing the red button? Dunno. Maybe subconsciously. He's clearly meant to parallel Puppet with how he is now, they're the same words in different font. Ruin pulled the lever to kill the smaller amount of strangers to save the greater amount of strangers. Puppet was inside the train that killed everyone she knew. She wants to repent, Ruin hasn't shown much interest in it. Does a selfless act require repentance?

I like to think he has a bit of a dissociation issue, he compartmentalizes things if you squint, a possible coping mechanism of something called cognitive dissonance (a disturbance that happens when your actions do not align with your morals/values.) He was right for what he did. What he did was bad. What he did was necessary. He deserves his fate. He doesn't like pain. There's some contradicting statements there, he'd have to separate some things into neat little boxes in order for it to make sense in his head, so he didn't torture himself thinking about what that said about himself and his values. What he did was right and necessary. What he did was bad and he deserves his fate. He doesn't like pain. Still contradictory a bit, but a little more organized. If he focused on the positive box more than the negative box, he can feel better about himself, but he's painfully aware of the negative box' existence. Maybe he avoids looking at the negative box at all times and ignores the contents, but what's inside is so over accumulated that it can't help but be constantly present and occasionally overflow in those matter-of-fact cries for help. A lotta PTSD can fit in this bad boy (pats ruin on the head)

Does that make sense? I don't know, I feel like a therapist trying to write from his point of view. What is wrong with this little british guy.

[dispotatorulzz]

Drew Viv-n-Vex in dumb shirts

[corsairspade]

Halenthir scenario where they get married for tax benefits (in a platonic good friends sort of way) and fall in love long distance via sending each other letters with ideas on how to best leverage their marriage for tax evasion.

[vigilskeep]

want to be clear that josie does not handle trevelyan having a daughter very well at all. pretty much worse initial reaction than everyone else. she’s like. Oh. I... See. [scrambles to remember what her siblings liked at that age] do you like. dolls? and lilith is like, i’m ten years old. and josephine is like yes, of course, while awkwardly positioning herself between lilith and her own concealed doll collection. do you like... [buffering noises] ... treaties?

[wildstar25]

What physical part(s) of Arsay does her partners find the most attractive! Is it the same for all partners or does it differ between them?

(also optional bonus ask of what part(s) of/about Arsay generally do they love the most, physical or not!)

Meanwhile, if you were to ask the same of Arsay:

[odessastone]

still musing on whether or not Pharah was intended to be autistic-coded in her PVE logs. Like it makes sense, autistic people tend to have a strong sense of justice that can sometimes lead to black and white thinking and morality (which Pharah very clearly struggles with). She’s just not a character I ever thought of as potentially being autistic. But things like the over-explaining in the logs, the ridiculous adherence to arbitrary rules, and the repeated complaints about loud noises bothering her makes me wonder if that’s what they were going for.

I mean I’d be all for it tbh. Personally I’ve since incorporated it into my interpretation of her character already lol

[wwillywonka]

shoutout to only murders in the building for making struggling writers of colour trying to get their work seen into villains.

and not only that, rex/marshall was portrayed as the one in the wrong amongst a season of television that didn't do anything but suck its own dick for ten episodes. this entire season has been horrible, abandoning all hope of telling a good story in favour of celebrity cameos. look, it's eugene levy! look, it's ron howard! yeah, they don't have anything to do with the actual story but isn't it just so cool that they agreed to be here (because we offered to pay them enough)?! the bad guy is going to be a nobody btw because we have to protect our precious celebrity idols from ~the crazies~ i guess.

honestly, we should have seen this coming when they made the villain of season 2 a struggling young woman who came from rock bottom trying to make a life for herself in a major industry - oh wait, that's the exact same fucking thing they did here. fucking bullshit show.

"maybe to be writer, i had to become a killer." what the fuck are you talking about.

[hecatesbroom]

"I'll just write a drabble this time, I swear!" I said at 3 am, a couple days ago. I am now neck-deep in an introspective piece on Maude and Vivian's relationship, at 1.4k with no sign of stopping anytime soon

[thebirdandhersong]

Hm