#weak hero class 1 scenarios

[freakmcnastyy]

"Angel"

Warnings: bullying, non-consensual touching, power imbalance, manipulation, toxic dynamic, suggestive content

Summary: You ran into your bully at the convenience store.

Note: Anon requestt

Pt.1 / Pt.2

⸻

The rain was falling like a thin curtain from the sky.

When you caught the glow of a small convenience store sign on a side street, you quickened your pace—just to find somewhere warm, somewhere to hide for a little while. The door jingled with a tired chime as you pushed it open. The warmth inside was jarring compared to the cold outside. You ran your fingers through your wet hair as you wandered between the aisles. After grabbing your favorite brand of instant noodles, you approached the counter. The boy behind it glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a small nod. No words exchanged. You paid, grabbed a pair of plastic chopsticks, and headed for the small kitchen corner near the register.

Once the food was ready, you sank into the chair and let out a quiet sigh. Setting the plastic bowl on the desk, you leaned forward and took your first bite. The heat, the salt, the spice—they filled your mouth and spread through your chest. The sound of rain outside and the soft hum of music from a speaker somewhere in the ceiling wrapped around you.

Until—

A shadow moved in front of the window.

You looked up and saw someone staring in from the other side of the glass. A boy, head tilted slightly forward, breath fogging up the window.

Han Soo-gang.

He raised a finger and drew a small heart in the center of the foggy glass. His eyes locked on yours. Then, grinning, he exaggeratedly mouthed, “What are you eating?” He added a tiny arrow beneath the heart and started laughing.

You slowly set down your chopsticks, your body freezing mid-motion. Was it dread tightening your chest, or just unease? You couldn’t tell.

The door jingled again.

Han Soo-gang walked in, followed by Lee Moon-gi and two girls. One of them flipped her hair over her shoulder as she entered, while the other linked her arm through Soo-gang’s and looked around the store. Laughter, footsteps, the squeak of wet sneakers on linoleum—

Moon-gi’s eyes went straight to you. He didn’t hesitate to slide into the chair right next to yours.

“Well, well, Yn-ssi… You here too?” he said, curling his lips in a fake smile. “What a coincidence, right? The way our paths cross in this world… it’s practically romantic.”

You started to get up. Your hand pushed your bowl aside, chair legs scraping slightly on the floor. But before you could rise, an arm slid around your waist, and in one smooth motion, everything shifted.

You couldn’t breathe properly—because the next second, you were in Han Soo-gang’s lap.

“Don’t get up,” he said, voice soft but firm. “We just got comfortable.”

His arms tightened around you. The more you struggled to stand, the more he pulled you back into him, adjusting your position so your hips rested right against his thighs. When you looked up, his gaze burned into you. He didn’t need to speak to tell you exactly what he was thinking.

“Let me go,” you said through gritted teeth. “What are you doing, Soo-gang? Let me go.”

You squirmed, but his grip didn’t budge. If anything, it became gentler—more deliberate. He leaned his head to the side, reached up, and gently tucked your damp hair behind your ear. His fingertips brushed your skin, trailing from your hairline down the curve of your neck.

“Angel…” he whispered. The word dripped with a sweetness that felt wrong. “I heard… you snitched on us. To the teachers. Hmm?”

A familiar grin crept across his face—equal parts amused, mocking, and dangerous.

“I… I didn’t,” you stammered. “Someone got it wrong—”

“Sure they did,” he breathed, his mouth close to your cheek now. “But you know… if you do report us…”

His laugh was low, vibrating against your skin. Then he looked directly into your eyes.

“…they’ll tear us apart, won’t they? You wouldn’t want that. You wouldn’t want to be separated from me… would you, angel?”

And then his hands moved.

They slid from your waist, down to your hips, then between your thighs. Your breath hitched. Panic? Anger? Something else entirely? You couldn’t tell anymore. But his touch wasn’t hurried. It was slow, calculated—like he was reminding you who was in control.

Soo-gang leaned closer, brushing his mouth along your cheek before planting a soft, lingering kiss right on the center of it.

He smirked.

Then leaned back casually, like nothing had happened.

You were still in his lap when Moon-gi suddenly said, “You two look so cute right now. Wait—don’t move! Lemme get a photo.”

He was already pulling out his phone. “Can’t miss moments like this. We all need something to talk about tomorrow, right?”

You couldn’t even speak. Soo-gang tilted his head and pressed his cheek against yours again, casually, intimately. You hated the way your body was frozen, like all the fight in you had drained out somewhere along the way.

One of the girls laughed loudly. “Omg, you guys actually look like a couple. Moon-gi, take it! Quick!”

Moon-gi lifted the camera. “Three… two… say kimchi, Yn!”

Your face was burning. You stayed silent.

“Kimchi!” he said again, rolling his eyes.

Click.

The flash went off. The photo was taken. And in the faint glow of the phone screen, Soo-gang’s stare was as clear as ever—he was enjoying this. Enjoying you. Enjoying the way he’d boxed you in.

When it was over, Soo-gang shifted. He pulled out a cigarette from inside his coat, lit it without hesitation. The no-smoking sign meant nothing to him. The first drag lit up his features again, glowing amber.

He held it out to you.

“Wanna smoke, angel?”

You shook your head, your voice coming out quiet. “No.”

He pouted. Overdramatically. “Aw…”

Then he looked down at you again, smoke curling between his lips.

“You know,” he murmured, “we actually make a really cute couple, don’t we?” He chuckled, then added, “Maybe you should date me.”

He took another drag, and this time, exhaled directly into your face. The smoke stung your eyes. Your lungs tightened.

His hand moved again.

From your waist, it crept upward. Then his palm pressed against your chest. He didn’t move it away.

“Damn,” he muttered. “These are pretty big, huh?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Stop it! What are you—!”

You pushed at his chest with both hands, but his body was a cage around yours. He just smiled lazily, like he hadn’t heard you. He took one last look at you, then slowly loosened his hold.

You slid off his lap. Your legs felt unsteady.

He stood.

“Alright, angel… I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”

He took one final drag, then reached over, dropped the cigarette straight into your ramen bowl.

“I love you,” he said, almost cheerfully.

He winked.

Then turned and walked out, Moon-gi and the girls trailing behind him.

The door jingled one last time.

The rain hadn’t stopped.

But somehow, it felt quieter than the noise still ringing inside your chest.

[vargrblood]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎page ──── three

약한영웅 characters when you cry while patching them up ˳ ۫ 𓈅

includes class 2 + suho 𔓕 gn!reader 𔓕 w.c 3.4k+

genres — established relationship, fluff, hurt / comfort

click to continue reading! 𔓕 based on this request

warnings. mentions of blood, injuries, bruises, dacryphilia (?), canon-typical violence.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ yeon sieun

Baku had called you, his voice was weighed with worry as he told you Sieun was hurt badly and unconscious. Your heart had sunk right there, the world had become blurry. Everything that came out of Baku’s mouth through the phone sounded so far away, as if someone had put your head underwater. you had felt like your legs would give up any second.

You had rushed with some first aid to Eunjang right away, fighting the fidgety feeling and anxiety you felt the entire bus ride. When you reached the secret hangout room you found three of the four boys hurt, one of them— your Sieun, lying down, and unconscious.

You had questioned and scolded them but they knew your anger came from a place of concern. Juntae had said that he and Gotak were fine, he had half-lied. All three of them had come to some unspoken agreement to leave you with Sieun alone to patch him up.

Your chest tightens as you settle near Sieun, slowly moving his hair out of his forehead to look at his wounds. Red bruises abloom on both his cheeks and forehead, gashes on both his cheek bones and a busted lip— just what was he upto?

You start by cleaning his chin and hands with wet wipes. You then disinfect his face and forehead, your breathing becomes heavier. You don't know how to clean his lips properly, after all you're not a medical professional, so you just opt to clean the area around his mouth properly. Your eyes start to burn a little, your heart is getting heavier each passing second.

Sieun’s eyes flicker open, his gaze is far away but he soon notices your presence, you are trying to rip a bandaid out of its packaging. He calls out your name, his voice is shaky and hoarse.

You turn towards him, a wave of relief washing over you as you notice him awake. He tries to get up but you push him down to rest, your attempts are futile as he sits straight anyway. He looks dazed.

“Sieun-ah,” You say, you don't add anything else, unable to think of a proper statement. Your eyes start to burn again, you try to blink it away but instead tears start to trail down your cheek. Sieun mirrors your expression. His eyes redden as tears collect.

“I’m sorry.” He utters, raw and pained. Your chest tightens and a lump forms in your throat.

“It’s okay, I am here now.” You breathe out, your voice is weak despite nothing being okay, you try to be strong.

“No, no, I am sorry.” His words are a little slurred and drawled as repeats. You take his hand in your own, holding it gently, you start to run your fingers over his hand in soothing motions. Your touch is feather light, as if you're afraid that you'll break Sieun. He stops you and grips your fingers lightly with his own, signaling for you to respond. Your vision is getting a little blurred but you hold it in for Sieun’s sake.

“Okay.” You say, your voice is weak. “I accept your apology. Now, let me put this bandaid on you.”

Sieun switches from holding your hand to gripping your sleeve between his fingers. You peel off the wrapper and put the bandaid on his cheekbone gently. Sieun’s eyes start to water. You wipe them with the back of your fingers before they can fall past his under eyes.

“They… your tears… they will burn your wounds. So, stop, okay? There's no need to cry, okay? I am here now.” You speak softly.

You usher him to lay down, his hand holding onto yours firmly. He does not want to let you go. You bring his hand towards your face and press a faint kiss on the back of his hand. His grip loosens slightly as he passes out again.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ahn suho

To say you were pissed would be an understatement. You were beyond angry at this point. As you put a dressing on his forearm, Suho finally breaks the silence.

“Wanna go to noraebang?” Typical Suho. Typical Suho behaviour. Always trying to change the topic.

“No.” You say.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to eat ice-cream after.” He tries to persuade you, taking your hands in his own, entwining softly. Subtly indicating that he doesn't want to talk about this, trying to put on an act to pretend that this never happened.

“No.” You repeat standing your ground.

He pouts as you retreat your hands and continue to apply ointment on his scratches.

“No use in pouting. I thought you were over this shit, beating up people and getting hurt.”

He doesn't respond so you refuse to meet his eyes. You start to apply some gel on the scratches of his face and he starts to pucker his lips, asking for a kiss. You put your palm on his lips.

“Stop it.” He licks your palm instead—? You withdraw your hand and smack him.

Wiping your hand with his uniform, you go back to applying the gel. Suho realises you're both awfully close, your face near his own. He looks at you, your face, how you have a little pout and how your eyebrows are furrowed as you delicately apply the ointment on him.

He notices how your lips tremble a little and your eyes are blinking a lot. Are you holding in your tears?

“Hey.” He holds your wrist. “I’m–”

“What?” You finally break– tears brim and fall out of your eyes. This time, you pretend. You pretend that you are not crying. You try to go back to patching him but his hold on your wrists is too strong.

“Hey, hey.” He utters softly, his voice sounds apologetic.“I’m… sorry. I know I told you I won't do this anymore but… it just happened.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks avoiding his gaze and silently sniffle and Suho’s heart breaks.

“Oh my.” He mutters under his breath, his hands quickly reach your face, palms holding your face like you were some fragile porcelain. His thumbs wipe your tears tenderly.

“I’m sorry, Y/n-ssi.” And with that, he kisses your nose. “It won't… I'll try to make sure it does not happen again.” He kisses your forehead next. “So, now please,” He kisses your philtrum, “Please, stop crying. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

He continues to kiss your face until you break into giggles.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ seo juntae

Juntae looks at you like a puppy kicked by a human, eyes downcast and filled with tears, feeling as though it was something that was his mistake. His eyes don't leave your hands.

You are fuming. Brows furrowed together, you are taking long breaths to calm yourself down. You angrily rip off a medicine’s covering and Juntae gulps.

You turn your face towards him and he looks at you and then, quickly looks away. He feels guilty.

You both are on a bench in a park near the pharmacy you just visited. Juntae got beat up by some bullies and you had dragged him to the pharmacy despite him saying it was okay.

Juntae wonders if you're mad at him. You're not. You know that.

You take off his glasses, gently putting them away. You start to dab away the dirt and blood from his face, your touches are feather light. He winces. He thinks it ticked you off because you stop and discard the cotton ball.

“I know… that it hurts you every time I get…hurt. I'm sorry.” He says, you look away. He's afraid he might lose you if this continues, he doesn't want that to happen ever. He holds your hands, clasping your fingers with his own.

“Please don't be mad at me.” It breaks something inside of you.

Your anger melts and turns into something else. It turns into the tears in your eyes, you hold them in. Your nose feels tingly and your mouth feels strangely wet. Your lips are pursed, you are taking in his words, letting them settle in your mind. They feel heavy. You take a deep breath as the tears threaten to fall. You face him again.

This time the look in your face is not of annoyance but of hurt, your brows are no longer furrowed together, your eyelashes are wet with tears that might fall any second. Juntae feels guilty.

“I am not mad at you.” You say and then it happens. The tears start to cascade down slowly. Juntae’s lips quiver. You take your hands back and wipe your tears.

“I don't know why you think I'm mad at you. I'm just… frustrated about this situation. I worry for you, Juntae-ya. Every few days you show up with these new wounds and bruises, I feel sad. I don't know what you're up to, but…” You stop as you don't know what to say.

Juntae feels as if his insides got ripped out and seared, his eyes start to water instantly at this sight. Just how could he be the reason of your tears?

His hand reaches out hesitant towards you, shaking a little and it finally finds your back. He starts to rub you with one hand and takes out a napkin with another. He uses it to wipe your tears.

“I…am sorry. Please don't cry.”

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ go ‘gotak’ hyuntak

“Does it cost money to be careful?” You mumble under your breath but they're still loud enough to be heard by Hyuntak. You did it intentionally.

“What? Aren't I supposed to be the one nagging you?” He sounds offended. “And if it really did cost money, you’d be evading–” You respond with a smack on the top of his head before he can even finish.

“Beggars can't be choosers.” You confuse him.

“That's literally not how the saying works. Ah–” You're now pulling his right ear.

“Can you stop abusing me?” He grumbles.

“Can you stop abusing me?” You mock him snottily.

Gotak realises there's no point in arguing with you further so he doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks away as you work on patching him up. You put gauze around his arm and some bandaids over his knuckles. You soon start to clean his face and that's when he finally turns towards you.

A q-tip is between your thumb and index finger layered with some gel, you're gently applying it to the corner of Gotak’s lips. He suddenly becomes hyper-aware about everything and his skin prickles with goosebumps.

Gotak realises that your sole focus is on his lips and blood rushes to his face, his ears reddening with every passing second. This close proximity isn't something that's rare but it's something that's not frequent either. Your dynamic has always been like this—too shy to be close and too committed to be farther than an arm’s distance.

Gotak takes in your features. Your eyes are glassy but focused on his lips and your nose seems a little red. Your bottom lip is between your teeth to stop it from trembling. You look like you're on the verge of crying. Shit.

“So, um…” Gotak starts, his intention is to distract you so you don't end up actually crying.

You hum in response. You finish up taking care of his lip and put away the q-tip in a plastic bag. Gotak looks at you, unable to muster up his words. He should’ve thought before starting to speak!

“So, yeah.”

You look at him incredulously, eyebrows raised but eyes still glassy, tears still sticking to your lashes.

“What?” You say.

You hear Gotak mumble a small Fuck this before he pulls you into his arms. One of his hands snakes through your back to your head, holding it gently. Gotak starts to pat you slowly. He then kisses the crown of your head.

“I’ll be careful next time.”

“Yeah. You better be.”

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ park 'baku' humin

Baku had showed up to your home bloodied and bruised with his stupid injuries and wounds. You had led him to your living room, your parents weren't home fortunately. You wouldn't have to explain why there was a badly beat up boy in your living space.

This brings you to your current predicament— crouched in front of Baku as he sat on the sofa, cleaning the dried blood clinging to his knuckles. You work in silence and Baku lets you. He doesn't speak and neither do you. You don't ask or question. He doesn't tell you what happened.

But the silence is oh so suffocating. There is a lump in your throat that won't go down now matter how much you swallow and tears are pricking the inner corners of your eyes. After you're done cleaning his hands you settle yourself on the sofa and start to clean his face.

Baku is strong, that is a fact. He never loses, that is another fact. But he is not invincible or immune to getting hurt. He bleeds and bruises just like everyone else. He feels pain too. That is evident in how he winces when you apply cream on his knuckles before you put on a bandaid. That is also evident in the way he hisses in pain when you dab the cut on his face with a cotton ball covered in disinfectant.

It is also evident in the way his heart aches when he notices your hands trembling and your eyes watering. You sniffle involuntarily. Baku wants to scratch his face. His eyes become glassy.

He calls out your name delicately as if it was a glass sculpture that could break if his voice was any louder.

And your tears spill. You bite your bottom lip to try and hold it in but there's no use.

Humin takes the cotton ball from your hand and places it on the center table. His hands wrap around your torso and he pulls you into his embrace. No words are exchanged. Sometimes, words aren't needed to communicate. Actions are enough.

With your head on his chest and his arms around you firmly, he pulls you under his chin. He lets you cry it out. You must be scared after seeing him hurt so badly.

He starts to run soothing circles on your back with his hand until you calm down.

“I’m sorry.” He says finally breaking the silence. “I won't get hurt this badly next time.”

“So you plan on getting hurt again?”

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ geum seongje

You are everything Geum Seongje is not– quiet, kind and gentle. Maybe that's why you're both together. Opposites attract or something.

But Outside Geum Seongje is different from Inside Geum Seongje. Inside Geum Seongje is reserved just for you. His words don't bite and he kisses with his lips instead of his fists. His eyes don't carry that crazed look, but a look of comfort and relaxation. He's not the adrenaline crazy wolf but a person who seeks softness and love.

One might think Seongje is the antonym of words like love, gentleness, kindness, softness etc. but that would be false. Seongje loves in his own way. He is cruel, yes, but there is certain gentleness when he pulls you into hugs. Geum Seongje knows mercy too. He is not soft like others but his edges and sharpness dull a little every time he's with you.

Maybe that's why he always seeks for you when he's injured. You offer him a quiet haven in your heart for nothing in exchange. You don't judge him. You don't ask questions. You don't look at him with fear or inferiority.

That's why he always crashes at your apartment after a big fight. You patch him up and offer him a warm meal. You offer him warmth no one else ever does.

Seongje looks at you confused. Your eyes are red and flowing with tears as you clean his bloodied knuckles. He does not understand why you're crying. But you look pretty, he doesn't want to question anything.

“I won, you know.” He breaks the silence.

“Yeah, I know.” You say, holding in a sniffle.

“So why are you crying?”

“Because you're hurt?”

Bloodied knuckles, busted lip, a black eye and different reds blooming under his skin on his body.

“You lack a sense of self preservation.” Seongje doesn't reply, he just studies your features. There's something unreadable in his expression. He silently acknowledges what you said as true. He doesn't know what to do when you sniffle and when your tears don't stop.

When you're finally done patching him up, you get up. He holds your wrist.

“The vegetables will get charred.” You say referring to the veggies on the pan you left unattended to focus on Seongje.

“Stay.” The ‘Please’ is left unsaid.

──────── ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ na baekjin

It isn't common for Baekjin to get into fights. And it is more uncommon for him to come back scathed– you see, Baekjin doesn't get his hands dirty. He rarely does so. And it's rarer for him to get hurt. His moves are always calculated and precise, there's no room for surprises or to get hurt for that matter.

So it is quite a moment when Baekjin enters his office with a gash along his cheek, walks towards his desk and crouches down to pull out a first aid box and puts it in front of you on the glass table, calmly. You look at him dumbly.

“Like am I…?” You start but then trail off, because obviously, he meant for you to patch him up.

“I don't see a mirror in here.” Whoa, Na Baekjin can be sarcastic if he wants.

“Then sit down, sir.” And with that Baekjin settles down next to you on the black leather couch of his modest office.

There's distance between you, you gesture with your hands for him to come closer and he follows. You break the distance between you both by pulling his face closer to yourself to inspect his cut and Baekjin notices how your face curls up in pain.

“You’re lucky it wasn't that deep. You’d have to get stitches on your pretty face.” Baekjin doesn't respond to your statement, but his gaze softens. A little smile forms on his face but it dissolves right away.

You start by wiping off the blood that trickled down towards his jaw and Baekjin closes his eyes—feeling your soft touches. One of your hands holding his face while the other wipes away the blood, there is a certain domesticity to this which he cherishes. Not that he would admit out loud. But it's evident in how his shoulders relax a little when you're nearby and how his fingers always try to find yours in the quiet moments when you're alone.

For a second, Baekjin wonders if it was not for the Union, would you two get to be normal? Act like those schoolmates who are dating— holding hands in the hallways, holding hands under the table in the cafeteria and sneaking off to the secluded corners of the school to make out.

He is pulled out of his thoughts when you say something, your voice sounds a little shaky and weak.

“I won't use the disinfectant, it’ll burn too much, so I'll use this cream… instead.”

He sees your eyes brimmed with tears, eyelashes heavy with tears weighing them down. His gaze softens.

“You are crying.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I am not! Atleast, not yet.”

“You worry for me too much.”

“You say it like it's a bad thing.” Your tears fall.

Ok, fair enough, Baekjin thinks. You're the only one who can get him tongue tied. If he can worry for you, then you can too.

He wipes the tears with the back of his hands, his touch is tender. You hold onto his hand, not letting him take it back, leaning into his touch.

“I love you.” You sniffle. His thumb rubs away another tear.

“I know. I love you too. I won't get hurt again.” He says. His voice doesn't have the edge he uses with others. A special voice just for you.

His gravity pulls you closer, heads tilting in unison, just a few centimetres apar–

A knock and the door opens.

“Am I interrupting something?” Geum Seongje. Motherfucker.

You groan.

Baekjin sighs.

note Ꮺ

longest work till now! i switched to regular font instead of subscript because personally reading text that small for so long strains my eyes. i also posted my stuff on wattpad, so if you use it, please support me on there too!

taglist. (join it here!)

@mariii-0001 @pavitrata @hanwoolvhs @svtf1lms @sadesutopia

also requests are open! im working on them so feel free to send in some requests. read more about requests here.

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Hi hi for a ff can you do seongje x quiet reader and he’s giving her hickeys and praising her. Take your time or feel free not to write it ofc hope you’re doing well :) 💖🖤

“So Damn Pretty When You're Quiet”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x quiet!Reader Genre: Soft smut / intimacy-heavy / praise kink Word count: ~700 (canon-inspired, but post-school setting)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You never had to say much for Seong-je to know what you were feeling.

The way your fingers curled when you were nervous. The way your eyes flicked to his mouth when you were distracted. The way your breath hitched when he got too close—yeah, he knew. And he loved it. Loved the way you stayed quiet, even when he was unraveling you piece by piece.

Especially then.

“Still not gonna say anything?” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re making it hard to behave.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

But the way your body pressed closer, the way your fingers gripped his shirt—he felt that.

You were both on his bed, lights dim, music low, tension thick in the air like storm clouds.

He had you leaning back, knees on either side of his lap, hands loose around his neck. Your eyes were half-lidded, lips slightly parted. Perfect. Breathless.

His mouth brushed your neck again, lower this time. And when he finally let his lips sink into your skin, warm and wet and slow.

You gasped.

“There she is,” he whispered against your throat. “That pretty little sound I like so much.”

You shivered. Didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Seongje smiled.

He liked how quiet you were. Not because you didn’t speak—but because you didn’t need to. Everything you felt, he could see it. In your eyes, your hands, your silence. It was loud enough.

He kissed the spot again. Then sucked—harder this time. A bloom of red, dark and deep.

Your hand flew to his shoulder, gripping tight.

“Sensitive, huh?” he said softly, voice smug. “Thought so.”

Another kiss. Another hickey.

“You’re so pretty like this. All quiet and soft for me. Letting me mark you.”

Your nails dug into his shirt. He loved it.

“You don’t have to say a word,” he murmured, trailing his lips down to your collarbone. “I know exactly what you want.”

You nodded slowly. Just once.

He groaned under his breath.

“Fuck, baby. That’s all it takes, huh? One little nod and I’m gone.”

He kissed your lips then—slow, deep, all tongue and heat.

You kissed him back with everything you couldn’t say.

And he understood.

[parkjihoonswifey]

Headcanon: what will weak hero class boys do when they see their love interests being attacked, humiliated, endangered, or kidnapped by bullies (boys or girls) or family members who treated them badly or other people outside of it ???

WEAK HERO BOYS HEADCANONS

I am absolutely fried (in the tired way) Ive been off and on mentally for too many times today then I can count, but as promised I am here to post.

also this is kinda buns sorry I haven't been putting my all into these.

pretty simple headcanons. Like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy.

Yeon Si-eun

• Si-eun is usually never the type to pick a fight. but when it comes to protecting the people he values, it's different.

• If it’s bullies, he's lashing out. His ways to defend are impulsive, but each thing he does is calculated to ensure protection.

• If it’s an abusive family, He might not engage them directly unless it escalates — but he’ll dig up dirt, contact authorities, or make sure they’re powerless to ever hurt anyone again.

•They hold each other after, awkward but steady. He says, “They won’t come near you again. Ever.”

Ahn Suho

• Reaction immediate, explosive physical intervention. You’re in danger? He’s already fighting.

• Bullies? Flattened. Family? Doesn’t matter who they are — if they lay a hand on you, Suho won’t hold back.

• He’s Lowkey the type to shout “Don’t touch them!” while running up ready to kick

• Afterward, he’s shaking with adrenaline, hugging them tight, saying, “I’m here now. They won’t ever touch you again.”

Oh Beom-seok

• Reaction is torn and emotional. If he sees you hurt by others — especially family — his trauma flares, but he doesn’t freeze this time.

• He’ll step in, scared but determined, screaming for them to stop and putting himself between them.

• Might break down crying after, saying “I couldn’t let them do to you what has been done to me.”

• He clings to you like you're all he has, trembling, desperate to be brave for you.

Seo Juntae

• A loud, angry show of force, nothing like him at all. Juntae’s temper spikes fast when someone is hurting someone he cares about.

• He’s the guy who grabs them by the collar while his hands shake and says, “Touch them again. I fucking dare you.”

• If it’s bullies (probably the same ones who bully him), he'll blackout. he’ll beat them bloody—hands shaking, jaw clenched, bystanders whispering in shock. He's completely unaware of what just happened until they pull him back, fixing his glasses and asking what happened.

•If it’s family, he’ll publicly shame them, no matter who’s watching

• Later, he’ll scold you for not calling him sooner — “You don’t ever deal with this alone, got it?”

Go Hyun-tak

• Surprisingly cool and protective. Hyuntak’s maturity shows — he takes control fast.

• If they're in danger, he’s by their side, calm but terrifying, using his reputation and presence to dismantle the threat.

• Might not throw punches unless he has to, but his words and gaze cut deeper than fists.

• Afterward, he’s soft-spoken, brushing their hair back and saying, “No one has the right to treat you like that. Not even family.”

Park Humin

• Cold rage. He doesn’t yell, he doesn’t talk. He acts, fast and without warning.

• The moment he sees them in pain or danger, he’s already moving like a shadow, striking first and asking no questions.

• He’s especially brutal toward bullies and looks at abusive family with barely contained hatred.

• After it’s over, he keeps his voice low. “You’re mine. No one gets to hurt what’s mine.”

Geum Seongje

•Smart, manipulative, and lowkey terrifying. He might not fight first — he’ll humiliate them.

• Uses everything: social power, status, secrets. He’s the type to expose a bully’s worst skeletons in front of a crowd.

• If it’s family? He’ll smile and twist their words until they look like monsters in front of everyone.

• Later, he strokes their cheek and says, “You don’t have to live in anyone’s shadow. I’ll burn it down for you.”

Na Baek-jin

• Ruthless, loyal, and violently protective. they're his person, and anyone who messes with them ceases to exist peacefully.

• The type to grab a bat he won't even use and show up without hesitation. He doesn’t care about laws or consequences — if they're hurt, his world narrows to vengeance.

• Family? Bullies? He treats them the same — like targets.

• Afterward, he’s breathing hard, covered in sweat and fury, then melts when he sees them cry. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there sooner.”

if there's a mistake anywhere, no there isn't.

[hrts4-jay]

Hey , my birthday is tomorrow , nd I was wondering if you could do birthday Seong-Je please .

❀Birthday Surprise❀

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Reader

wc: 1.3k

A/N: all fluff~ happy birthday in advance! hope u enjoy♡ @nettienetteluv2yuuu

~⑅❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀⑅~

Today was your birthday.

And today, Geum Seongje, the ruthless leader of the Union, was attempting something entirely foreign to him: romance.

Seongje stood by the window in his usual corner of the rooftop. He looked every bit the intimidating figure everyone knew him to be. His dark hair was impeccably styled, framing a face that was usually set in a permanent scowl. But today, there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his lips, a flicker of tension in his usually intimidating eyes.

He'd been worrying over this for weeks. Birthdays, gifts, declarations of affection – these were completely alien to him. His world had always been defined by power struggles, loyalty, and the brutal realities of survival. He understood how to command respect, how to instill fear, how to protect what was his. But love? That was a different beast altogether.

He'd asked his little minions for advice, a move that had been met with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. But their suggestions, ranging from expensive jewelry to a new motorcycle, felt hollow and impersonal. He didn't want to buy you something you could show off. He wanted to give you something that would show you how he felt, something that would bridge the gap between the brutal world he lived in and the gentle soul he knew you to be. He wanted to give you something that came from him.

He finally settled on something simple, something…homemade. Something that had cost him sleepless nights and a great deal of frustration. He just hoped it would be enough.

The bell signaling the end of classes finally rang, shattering the tense silence of the rooftop. Seongje straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked towards the stairs, a small, carefully wrapped package clutched in his hand.

You were waiting for him at the usual meeting spot by the cherry blossom tree, its delicate pink petals swirling around you like confetti. You were laughing, your eyes sparkling with sunshine as you talked to a group of your friends.

Seongje felt a pang of possessiveness, a primal urge to pull you away from the crowd and keep you all to himself. He tamped it down, reminding himself that your happiness was paramount.

As you turned and saw him, your face lit up with a radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only you.

"Seongje!" you called out, breaking away from your friends and rushing towards him.

"You're here!"

He managed a small, awkward smile in return. "Happy birthday, my love." He held out the package, his hand trembling slightly. "I… I got you something."

You took the gift, your eyes shining with curiosity and excitement. "You did? Oh, Seongje, you shouldn't have!" But your cheerful expression told you that you were happy he had.

You carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a clumsily crafted wooden box. The wood was rough, the edges uneven, and the simple heart carved into the lid was slightly lopsided. It was far from perfect, but it was made with sincerity.

Inside the box, nestled on a bed of soft velvet, was a collection of pressed flowers. Each flower was carefully chosen, each one representing a memory they shared together: a vibrant sunflower from the day they spent at the amusement park, a delicate forget-me-not from the time you both got caught in the rain, a single, perfect red rose from the night he had awkwardly confessed his feelings for you.

You gasped, your eyes welling up with tears. You gently lifted the box, running your fingers over the delicate petals.

"Seongje.." you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "This is… This is the most beautiful gift I've ever received."

He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to your overwhelming emotion.

"I… I didn't know what to get you," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I'm not good at this sort of thing."

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "Seongje, don't you ever say that. This is perfect. It's more perfect than anything I could have ever imagined. It's… It's from you."

He looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity. But all he saw was genuine affection, pure and straightforward.

"You mean it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your tears now streaming down your face. "I do. It's not about how expensive something is, Seongje. It's about the thought, the effort, the love that goes into it. And this box… It's filled with your love."

He reached out and gently wiped away your tears, his rough fingers surprisingly tender. "I… I wanted to give you something that would last," he said, his voice gaining strength.

"Something that would remind you of us, of all the good times we've shared."

"It will," you assured him, taking his hand in yours. "It already does."

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the gentle rustling of the cherry blossom tree. Seongje looked at you, really looked at you, and realized that he had stumbled upon something truly precious. He had found a love that was tender, a love that had the power to transform him, to soften the edges of his hardened heart.

He leaned in and gently kissed your forehead, a silent promise to protect you, to cherish you, to love you with every fiber of his being.

"I have one more surprise for you," he said, pulling away slightly.

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Oh? And what is it?"

Seongje took a deep breath and led you away from the cherry blossom tree, towards the edge of the rooftop. He gestured towards the city skyline.

"Look," he said.

You followed his gaze, your eyes widening in surprise. Spanning across three skyscrapers, in bold, vibrant neon letters, were the words: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N. LOVE, SEONGJE."

You gasped, your hand flying to your mouth. "Seongje! You didn't!"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "I wanted everyone to know it's your birthday."

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. "You're crazy," you mumbled, your voice muffled against his jacket. "Completely and utterly crazy. But I love you so much."

Seongje wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He knew that he was probably going to have to deal with the consequences of his extravagant display of affection later – the school administration would be furious, and his rivals would undoubtedly see it as a sign of weakness. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was you, your happiness, and the overwhelming feeling of love that filled his heart.

As they stood there, bathed in the warm glow of the neon lights, he realized that he had finally understood the true meaning of love. It wasn't about power or control, or possession. It was about vulnerability, about sacrifice, about putting someone else's happiness before his own. It was about finding someone who saw the good in you, even when you couldn't see it yourself. And he had found that someone in you.

He knew that he would never be able to fully shed his past, that the world he lived in would always be dangerous and unforgiving. But with you by his side, he knew that he could face anything. He had found his anchor, his safe haven, his reason for fighting.

As the city lights twinkled around them, Geum Seongje, the ruthless leader of the Union, was no longer just a fighter. He was a lover, a protector, a man completely and irrevocably in love. And that, he realized, was the greatest power he could ever possess.

The neon lights continued to blaze: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N. LOVE, SEONGJE."

[niki-phoria]

내게 빛이 되어준 그댈 / i promise you, i promise you

(gn reader/fluff/891 words) while waiting for the bus in the rain, sieun accepts a ride home from someone special

notes: i have not seen s2 so no spoilers please, an anon requested a weak hero fic so i hope this is enough for now, sieun rides the bus for the plot, reader rides a motorcycle for the plot, possibly ooc sieun, written with male reader in mind, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from wanna one - i promise you

YEON SIEUN has a habit of staring at the ground. he can’t help it. maybe years of craning his head to stare down at his various textbooks had become a comfort. or maybe it was easier to slip through life that way - seen, but not heard. simply a background character. no friends, no drama. no matter what’s going on in the world around him, sieun looks at his feet; he studies his shoes. one foot in front of the other.

but then, there was you. you; suho’s friend, far too laid back and relaxed, even with college entrance exams slowly approaching. you; your bright smile and soft voice that sieun can’t seem to get out of his mind. you; the low hum of your motorcycle pulling up beside the bus stop in the dark and coming to a stop beside him. 

“sieun!” he only catches a glimpse of your smile when you tug your helmet off, quickly ducking beneath the bus stop to join him. rain has begun to fall, as evidenced by the water droplets slowly rolling off of your shoulders. beneath the golden glow of the flickering streetlight, sieun’s gaze lingers on you. and, more specifically, your jacket. 

“is that suho’s?” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. they’re a shaky, jumbled mess when they cut through the quiet of the night. 

“hm?” you’re looking at him again now, cocking your head to the side slightly. your eyebrows furrow. 

sieun swallows. “the jacket,” he says. “is it suho’s?”

“oh, yeah,” you chuckle softly. a few water droplets roll off of the fabric when you shift, showing off the design woven across the sleeves. “he let me borrow it for the night since it’s raining.” 

sieun bites his tongue, then nods in acknowledgement. it wasn’t uncommon for you and suho to share clothes. he had recognized a pair of your shoes abandoned in the corner the last time he visited and suho had worn your school uniform when he forgot his own on more than one occasion. that didn’t make him feel any better though. 

“hey,” sieun’s gaze snaps back up to meet yours at the sound of your voice. you take a step forward, closing the distance between your bodies. “do you want a ride home? i don’t think the rain will let up anytime soon.” 

he pauses. contemplates. sieun glances towards the street. a small puddle has begun to gather near the curb, threatening to flood the sidewalk. the downpour has only gotten stronger. gusts of wind cut through the night sky. sieun could walk home, but he’d risk a cold by doing so. and then-

siuen nods. “thank you.” 

you smile brightly. sieun remains silent as he follows away from the bus stop and into the rain towards your motorcycle. his body stiffens beneath the cold rain, shivers racing down his spine. the water seeps into the thin fabric of his clothes and flattens his hair against his forehead. he wraps his arms around himself, attempting to find warmth in his jacket. 

siuen remains still when you turn to face him, holding your helmet out towards him. “here,” you say quietly. sieun’s eyes flutter shut as you gingerly place the helmet over his head. your hands feel warm when they accidentally brush against the side of his face. an unfamiliar feeling settles deep into his gut. 

through the plastic visor over his eyes, sieun blinks wearily at you. your smile seems to brighten at the sight. “cute,” you whisper. sieun looks down again. his shoes are wet and his face is flushed. his shoes are muddy and his heart is beating wildly in his chest. his feet are soaked and he can’t stop thinking about you. your hands. your smile. you.

sieun moves in a daze. he clumsily slides onto the back of your motorcycle. tentatively, sieun wraps his arms around your torso, clasping his hands together against your stomach. his chest presses against your back as he rests his chin against your shoulder. he can feel the vibrations of your laughter when you chuckle, even if he can’t hear the noise over the engine’s low rumble. “hold on tight!”

the drive to sieun’s apartment is quiet. uneventful. beneath the glow of the moonlight, sieun allows himself to relax. his grip around your waist becomes looser. he leans his head against your shoulder, careful to ensure that his helmet doesn’t bump into your head with each turn. 

sieun almost startles when you arrive, turning off the engine and leaning your motorcycle to the side against the kickstand. he leans back, allowing you to step to the side before following after you. you remove his helmet the same way you put it on - carefully but in one smooth action. 

“thanks for the ride,” sieun says quietly. 

you smile, soft and sweet. you shrug slightly, leaning back against your motorcycle as you turn to face him. “glad i could help.” 

sieun’s grip around his backpack tightens. the breeze picks up slightly; the winter chill is enough to tint the apples of your cheeks. he hopes it’s enough to hide the flush threatening to spread across his own features. “maybe i’ll see you later,” you say. 

beneath the glow of the flickering streetlights, you only catch a glimpse of his curt nod. “see you later.” 

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or reblogging !! and if you want to support me, you can find more weak hero fics here <33

[prettypeppermint]

slapkiss.

for g. seongje. a prelude to 'name of the game.'

"Let's break up," you say calmly, letting the words linger in the air--sift through your cigarette smoke. There's a quiet in your eyes, one that dulls every word that comes from your mouth. He knows there's something so damaged about you that it makes you unbreakable.

A scoff leaves his throat, mimicking the scuff of his shoe against pavement as he kicks at his cigarette butt. "You're getting a little too predictable recently, don't you think?" he laughs, and the sound soothes the venom of his words.

He takes a step in, then another, until you have to tilt your head to look up at him.

"You think you can run? Hm?" He presses a knuckle to your temple--shoves your head to the side. "Where will you go? Back to studying? Without the Union, you won't even get into junior college." He smooths down your hair before grabbing a fistful at the back of your head. He tugs slightly to get a better look at your chest.

His fingers creep up to your collar, yanking at your tie like a leash, pulling you towards him. There's a hunger in his eyes that's grown dull and familiar in your stomach, but you crave it nonetheless.

He begins undoing the buttons of your uniform, one by one, until he can peel it away from your shoulder. You let him.

His thumb runs over the cigarette burn on your chest. Your heart swells whenever you're reminded that it's there--that he put it there. "Don't get ahead of yourself, y/n," he says lowly, digging his thumb into the mark just enough to slightly crack your calm demeanor.

Seongje takes a step back to admire his work--the undone state he's put you in that only he can recognize. He likes when you remind him what he's capable of, and how good he treats you despite it. "You really piss me off, you know? On the surface, you're this ice-cold bitch, turning your nose up at everyone. But only I know the real you." He can barely stifle a dark chuckle.

He lights another cigarette. "Should I make another one? Put it somewhere everyone can see? You're like my human canvas, fuck." He bites his lip, as if he's holding back a direct attack to the throat.

He traces the cigarette up along the silhouette of your body, barely a centimeter from singeing your uniform. But your eyes don't follow it. Instead, they look at him.

"Should I put it... here-" he halts at your neck "or... here?" You inhale a lick of smoke as he raises it to your cheek. The ring of heat it leaves against your skin makes your lips part.

"When you go to school the next day everyone will know: their top student is a degenerate bitch who gets off to being her boyfriend's human ashtray." Another laugh whistles from his throat. He pats your cheek twice. "Open up."

You obey, unlocking your jaw and letting your tongue loll past your teeth slightly. He brings the cigarette to your tongue but pauses right before contact. He can tell you're waiting for it, with your eyes looking straight into his--like his antics are your routines.

He lets out an amused scoff. "Crazy bitch." His hand flicks the cigarette to the side before locking around your throat, shoving you against the alley wall. You feel the brick send a jolt through your skull. He barely looks at you, as if he's bored. Your neck fits the mold of his fingers perfectly, you notice.

There's a twitch in his lip as he studies you like an animal. He hates the way you absorb his treatment, but he loves the way it makes him feel.

"Only I can touch you like this. Hurt you like this." It comes out like a warning, but you take it as a confession. His thumb creeps up your chin, past your bottom lip. He teases the flesh a bit before forcing past your teeth and pressing down on your tongue. You taste fresh cinder and ash. "You love me, right? You love when I treat you like this." He shakes your face, gripping your jaw.

You nod around his thumb.

"Say it." He shoves his digit further down, and you feel his nail scratch the back of your throat.

He particularly hates something about your eyes--how striking they are when they stare into his. You see your reflection in his glasses, and it melts something in you.

"Still won't?" he threatens steadily.

You've never told him you love him, but you don't have to for him to understand your feelings run deeper than love; you're irrevocably devoted to him--something much simpler.

Suddenly, his finger is ripped from your throat, and he's shoving your head against the wall with a half-hearted flick of his palm. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it meant nothing.

His eyes narrow beneath a furrowed brow as he lights another cigarette and nips it between his lips. He looks at something far off and out of your reach. "Come," he says as he extends his hand without looking at you. You press your palm into his and feel the familiar clasp of his fingers--the tug that follows, the lock that clicks--as he leads the way and walks off. You never know where he's going, but you always tether right behind.

You like this view; the back of his head, his arm extending behind him to connect with yours. You like the way the wind tousles his hair and crimson blazer. It's your favorite angle--right behind him, where it's safe.

Life feels slow when you're on the move, with no knowledge of where he's taking you. But as long as you're with him, no one can hurt you except Geum Seongje. It soothes something you didn't know was aching inside you.

A slap. Then a kiss. And you feel at home again.

x.

[kpop-ruins-our-lives]

Soft - Yeon Sieun scenario (Requested, Fluff)

Anon said: Hii! You’re writing is amazinggg

Could you do a more fluff sieun x reader? Where sieun shows obviously like no emotion and then he gets a little closer to reader and the boys (gotak, juntae,humin) see him like blushing and a tiny bit smiling after talking to her and they’re like “oooo” and the boys are absolutely determined to have him talk to her. Story ending with cuteness and such. 😊😊Thank youuuu❤️

A/N: Hiii! Thank you, thank youu! I hope you enjoy this scenario I wrote for you! Just changed the bit where the reader and Sieun already know each other! Ly <3

Members: Yeon Sieun x Reader Genre: Fluff Warnings: None Word count: 2388

The flickering neon sign of the convenience store cast long shadows as Yeon Sieun emerged, a plastic bag clutched in his hand. His face, as always, was a carefully constructed mask of indifference. The recent confrontations, the endless cycle of violence and calculated retribution, had etched lines of exhaustion around his eyes, but no outward sign of the turmoil within. He’d just finished another grueling study session, fueled by instant coffee and a relentless drive to outsmart his circumstances.

"Sieun-ah! Over here!"

A boisterous shout cut through the night. Humin, with his usual boundless energy, waved him over to a park bench where Juntae and Gotak were already sprawled, sharing a bag of chips. Sieun approached, his steps unhurried, and took a seat a little distance from them.

"Tough day, huh?" Juntae offered, nudging the bag of chips his way. Sieun simply grunted, accepting a chip.

"You look like you've been fighting a calculator," Humin quipped, earning a rare, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Sieun’s lips.

They knew. They always knew. They didn't pry, didn't demand explanations. They just were there. After everything — the bloody knuckles, the strategic maneuvers, the silent battles fought within the confines of his mind — these three were his anchor. They saw past the quiet, the stoicism, to the raw, brilliant, and deeply scarred individual beneath. They knew the weight he carried, the constant vigilance, the price of his intelligence, his past.

Sieun was halfway through his chip when a figure approached the bench. It was you, a classmate known for your quiet warmth and insightful observations. You often studied at the same late-night cafe as Sieun, and your paths had crossed more than once.

"Oh, hey guys," you said, your voice soft but clear. You offered them a small smile before turning to Sieun.

"Sieun, I was wondering if you understood that last problem in the advanced calculus textbook? I've been staring at it for an hour and my brain is just... fried."

Sieun’s gaze, usually impenetrable, softened ever so slightly as he met your eyes. He paused, then began to explain, his voice low and calm, walking you through the steps with a precision that was uniquely his. He gestured with his hands, drawing imaginary diagrams in the air. As he spoke, a faint, almost imperceptible flush began to creep up his neck. And then, as your face lit up with understanding and you laughed softly, a genuine, tiny smile curved his lips. It was fleeting, gone almost as soon as it appeared, but it was there.

Gotak, Juntae, and Humin exchanged looks. Their jaws collectively dropped.

"Oooooooh!" Gotak didn't hide his excitement, elbowing Juntae so hard he nearly fell off the bench.

Juntae, his eyes wide, mouthed,

"He smiled! He actually smiled!"

Humin, ever the most composed of the three, simply raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "And he's blushing."

Sieun, oblivious to their silent commentary, continued to talk with you, the conversation shifting from calculus to a shared frustration over a particularly stubborn vending machine at school. Your presence seemed to melt away the usual layers of guardedness that enveloped him. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he even leaned in slightly as you recounted an amusing anecdote.

It was getting late, so you were on your way home. Sieun watched you go, a lingering softness in his eyes. He then turned back to his friends, his expression settling back into its usual, subtle stoicism, though a faint hint of color still lingered on his cheeks.

The moment you were out of earshot, Gotak practically lunged at Sieun, a wide grin splitting his face. "Sieun-ah! What was THAT?"

"Nothing," Sieun mumbled, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

"Nothing?" Juntae scoffed, "You were practically sparkling! You were blushing! And you smiled!"

"I did not," Sieun retorted, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

"Oh, you definitely did," Humin chimed in, leaning forward. "We saw it. All of us." He gestured to Tak and Juntae.

Gotak clapped Sieun on the shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You like her, don't you?"

Sieun stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No, no, he's right!" Humin exclaimed, his enthusiasm growing. "This is big! You never smile like that, Sieun!"

A plan began to form in Gotak’s mind, a grand, strategic maneuver worthy of Sieun himself, but in the realm of romance.

"Alright, listen up, guys," he said, pulling them into a huddle. "Operation: Sieun's Heart Flutter."

"Operation what now?" Humin asked, though a smile played on his lips.

"We are going to make sure Sieun talks to Y/N," Gotak declared with absolute conviction. "We'll orchestrate it. Study groups, 'accidental' run-ins, 'forgotten' textbooks..."

Juntae nodded vigorously. "We'll be his wingmen! The ultimate support system!"

Sieun, observing their fervent plotting, let out a soft sigh. He knew it was futile to argue. These boys, his unwavering allies, were determined. And for the first time in a long time, the thought of their meddling, instead of being an annoyance, brought another faint, almost imperceptible, blush to his cheeks. Perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn't be so bad.

The next few days were a blur of "coincidences." You found yourself constantly bumping into Sieun, whether it was at the library, in the cafeteria, or even on the walk home. Each encounter, subtly orchestrated by Gotak, Juntae, and Humin, chipped away at Sieun's reserve. They would "forget" their notes, forcing you and Sieun to share. They would "accidentally" leave the two of you alone in a quiet corner of the library.

---

One afternoon, Sieun found himself sitting across from you in a quiet cafe, a steaming mug of cocoa between them.

"Ohh- I-!" Humin was loud as always. Everyone looked up at him.

"I forgot I have this thing to do- Ahhh- I'm sorry, I have to leave- I mean-WE have to leave because It's a thing that I need Gotak and Juntae for too!"

The boys followed along, agreeing and quickly stood up, said their goodbye, and walked out. Sieun watched them leave and just took a long breath. On the other hand, you found them funny. You figured out already, what they were doing and you were happy about it. Sieun was someone who is specific, but you loved being around him, maybe all this that is happening is telling you something, but you don't want to give in since Sieun doesn't show his feelings that much. Seeing him smile only with his eyes is rewarding in a way, to know you made him smile, smile even internally was fulfilling.

The conversation between the two of you flowed easily, from challenging calculus problems to their favorite obscure documentaries. You, noticing a smudge of cocoa on Sieun’s cheek, gently reached out and wiped it away with your thumb.

Sieun froze, his breath catching in his throat. His entire face flushed a deep crimson, and his eyes, usually so composed, darted away from yours. It was a complete, unadulterated blush.

You, startled by his reaction, quickly pulled your hand back, a faint blush on your cheeks. "Oh! Sorry, I just noticed..."

Sieun cleared his throat, his gaze slowly returning to yours. He didn't speak, but his eyes held a softness, a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. A small, genuine, and undeniably sweet smile slowly spread across his face, a smile that reached his eyes and crinkled the corners.

At that exact moment, peeking around the corner of the cafe were Gotak, Juntae, and Humin.

Humin, ever the one to appreciate the subtle victories, just shook his head, a wide, satisfied grin on his face.

"He's totally smitten," Humin whispered, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Operation: Sieun's Heart Flutter," Go Tak murmured, adjusting his imaginary tie. "Mission accomplished."

Sieun, oblivious to his friends' lurking presence, continued to talk with you, the faint blush still present, his smile a little more permanent now. The weight he carried seemed a little lighter, the world a little less harsh. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his heart, that no matter what challenges came his way, the boys, his unwavering allies, would always have his back. And perhaps, now, he had found someone who could share the quiet moments, who could bring out the soft smiles, and who saw past the strength to the gentle heart that truly resided within.

The lingering warmth from your hand on his cheek, the soft curve of your smile – these were the new, unfamiliar sensations that buzzed beneath Yeon Sieun’s carefully constructed composure.

---

The two of you started meeting at the cafe more often. The clatter of cups and the low hum of conversation became the backdrop to your growing connection. Sieun found himself sharing details he rarely divulged – his favorite complex math problems, the subtle satisfaction of solving a particularly tricky puzzle, the quiet beauty he found in the precise logic of things. You spoke of your passion for art, the way colors could convey emotions words often failed to capture, and your dreams of exploring different cultures. He’d listen intently, his gaze unwavering, a small, almost imperceptible smile gracing his lips more frequently.

You noticed the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he was truly amused, a secret language only you seemed to be privy to.

---

The library was nearly empty—a hushed cathedral of knowledge under golden afternoon light. Dust danced lazily through the sunbeams slanting across rows of worn desks and towering shelves. Somewhere, a clock ticked in measured beats, but for Sieun and you, time had gently slipped off its leash.

You two sat side by side, notebooks spread out between the two, the silence was only broken by the scratch of a pencil and the occasional page flip. You furrowed your brow at a particularly vicious-looking math problem, and Sieun glanced over. at you.

“Here,” he murmured, shifting slightly closer. Your shoulders brushed—a brief spark—and neither moved away.

He leaned in, pointing at her notebook with his pen, the tip gliding lightly over the symbols. “You missed a negative sign here. That flips everything. See?”

His voice was low, soothing. You could feel the calm precision of it vibrate in your chest. As he explained, he reached for your pencil to sketch something out—and your fingers touched.

Brief. Unintentional. But undeniable.

Both froze for a heartbeat.

You looked up and Sieun met your gaze.

Something shifted.

There was no noise. No distraction. Just the closeness, the fragile electricity humming in the air, and the way his eyes lingered—storm-dark and searching—before flicking back to the page with an almost imperceptible gulp.

“You... always explain it so clearly,” You whispered, cheeks warm.

He didn’t look at you this time. Just gave the smallest smile, hidden mostly in profile. “It’s easier when you’re listening.”

You blinked. The silence between the two of you now was soft, like petals falling. You couldn’t help but watch him as he worked through another example, the way he chewed on the edge of his pen cap, the furrow between his brows, his eyes focused on the notebook. Something about this quiet moment—with his voice, his warmth, their proximity—made your heart slow and race at the same time.

After hours spent poring over textbooks at the library, rain began to patter against the windows. You gathered your things, a sigh escaping your lips. "Looks like I'm in for a wet walk home."

Sieun, without a word, packed his bag. "I'll walk you," he stated, his voice calm and steady. It wasn't a question, but a quiet declaration.

The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle by the time the two of you stepped outside. The streetlights cast a soft, diffused glow on the wet pavement, reflecting the vibrant colors of the city. The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic pattern of your footsteps and the distant hum of traffic the only sounds.

As the two of you were in front of your apartment building, a subtle tension began to build between you two, a silent acknowledgment of the impending goodbye.

Sieun stopped at your doorstep, turning to face you. The light from the porch cast soft shadows on his features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

"Thanks for walking me." you said softly, your heart thrumming a little faster.

Sieun looked at you, his gaze holding yours. The usual mask of indifference was completely gone, replaced by a raw vulnerability you rarely saw. He raised a hand, slowly, almost hesitantly, and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. A deep blush crept up his neck, darker than you had ever seen it.

Then, with a quiet determination that was uniquely Sieun, he leaned in. His lips, soft and tentative at first, met yours. It was a gentle, almost shy kiss, a silent conversation of unspoken feelings. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his lips on yours, the soft touch of his hand on her cheek, and the undeniable flutter in your chest.

When he pulled back, his eyes were still locked with yours, a mixture of surprise and something akin to wonder reflecting in your depths. The blush on his face was still prominent, but a small, truly radiant smile began to bloom. It was a smile you knew you would carry with you, a treasured memory of the quiet, strong boy who was slowly, wonderfully, letting you into his heart.

"Good night, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a little rough, but filled with a warmth that sent a delightful shiver through you.

"Good night, Sieun," you whispered back, cheeks flushed, a wide smile gracing your lips.

You watched him turn and walk away, disappearing into the soft glow of the streetlights.

You slipped into your room moments later, dropping onto your bed like a giddy comet, limbs flying, burying your face into your pillow just as your phone buzzed.

Sieun: Goodnight. Sleep well.

Sieun: I’m still thinking about you.

You made a sound that was half-squeal, half-scream, and flopped harder into your blankets, feet kicking in the air as your joy had nowhere else to go.

[hannie-berrie]

You text Weak Hero Class that you want a baby

MY MASTERLIST

[slxttyria]

Geum Song je x f!reader pt.2

Warnings: none so far!

(new to this, please leave tips! English is not my first language)

part 1.

Ever since that day Seong Je figured out every single information about you in an instant, he watches you get dropped off at school, sometimes even follow you home.

He swears this is not stalking, he considers himself more like a shadow. He also swears he's not obsessed.

He warned all his minions to not go near you at any cost.

You also realized that those boys didn't trouble you again not did you see them when you turned that one corner.

Instead you saw him, you didn't know his name of course. You stopped in your tracks and muttered out a small "Sorry." And turned to walk off.

"Wait." You paused instantly and when you turned around he was right there. "You can pass here you know? I'm not stopping you." He smiled lightly while looking down at you, the height difference standing out.

You looked up at him and hummed before walking past him to continue your walk.

You thought he stayed until you heard footsteps behind you, as he fell into the same pace as yours.

"Yesterday..."

"I don't was to talk about it." You cut through his voice, he raised an eyebrow and scoffed "Okay Ms. Grumpy..." He said looking back at the road he was walking on.

You stopped.

What the hell did he call me...?

"What...?" He said slightly confused, you glared at him then he held his hands up in defense and laughed.

You started walking again.

Couple minutes later he was annoying you again, well to you he was annoying "Do you like ice cream?" He asked while looking at the ice cream truck on the side of the road.

He finally looked at you "Do you even speak?" He questioned again and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"Yes I do. I just don't talk to annoying people."

His teasing grin faded "You know I was gonna buy you ice cream, but nevermind."

"I never said I wanted it." You said not looking at him, just walking.

You reached the gate to your house, surprisingly he walked you all the way there. It was weird of course, you basically just showed him where you lived which he already knew of course.

"Bye grumpy." He waved with that same teasing smirk. You glared at him before walking inside.

Of course this did not stop to the point where everyday after school, he'd be waiting at that corner or even at your school gate. You got glares and whispers when the other girls glanced at you and him together.

He also found a habit to carry your bag for you, he would stop insisting so you gave it to him, sometimes he'd even buy you snacks or your favorite candy which you had no idea how he knew about it.

You guys slowly got closer and closer, you got more comfortable around him sometimes even smiling at his stupid jokes or stories. He'd treat that smile as if it was a hard earned trophy he won.

10:39 pm

*Notification from Seong Je*

"Come outside I'm bored"

You sighed, slipping out of bed to find a oversized hoodie, his hoodie, to put on.

You slowly made your way downstairs to find your mom and stepdad making out on the couch.

You walked past silently exiting through the door with a soft click.

And there he was standing right at your gate with that grin.

You walked towards him "What are we gonna do?" You asked softly looking up at him.

He was staring at your face, longer than usual, admiring your features...

"Seong Je." You spoke slightly louder.

"Oh yeah, you want ice cream?" He took your hand and began walking.

You were sat at the table staring out the glass window, when he sat beside you.

You turned to look at him then at the ice cream.

"Why did you only get one?" You asked

"It's for both of us." "I never agreed on sharing with you"

"Your so mean hmm?" He ruffled your hair as you took a spoon of the ice cream to your mouth

"Hey feed me too..." He said opening his mouth with an 'aaaah' sound.

You completely missed his mouth on purpose smearing it on his cheek instead, smiling to yourself.

"Ya! You little troublemaker!" He wiped the melted ice cream off his cheek and just decided to let you have it, but you did end up giving him some.

You finished the ice cream, a smudge of it at the corner of your lips.

Seong Je stared at if before leaning down pressing his lips against the side of yours to get it.

You gasped and he took it as a opportunity to actually kiss you.

He moved his hand from the table to the back of your neck, the other around your waist pulling you closer.

Your hands on his chest pushed him back, your ears started to turn a hot pink

"W...Why did you-" "You had a smudge...." You could have told me instead."

He sighed and rolled his eyes "So that means you didnt like my kiss...?" He looked back at you.

"No! I mean... Yeah! But...!" You sighed and covered your face

He chuckled, this was rare for him to see you break your nonchalant composure he absolutely loved it.

"Let's just go..." You muttered, hiding your face with your hair as you got up and storming to the entrance.

11:57pm

The wall back to your house was silent, your avoided his gaze as much as possible while he just smiled at you to make you flush even more.

Arriving your gate, you felt as if you still had to say bye to him.

"Bye Seong Je, and thanks for the ice cream..." You spoke softly, eyes meeting your shoes.

"no hug?" He held out his arms waiting.

You hesitated but wrapped your arms around him eventually, melting in his embrace you felt a pair of lips on your forehead.

You let go and turned to your house walking inside leaving him there.

He watched until you closed the door then his phone rang.

"Hello?" "Where the fuck are you? I've been calling you for the past 2 hours."

He chuckled "Baekjin-ah calm down hmm? I was busy..." He teased

"I'm not in for your bullshit I bet you were with that girl your obsessing over." Baekjin spat from the other end.

Seong Je didn't reply and hanged up with a sigh.

He was really falling for you, and fast too. He would have never thought he'd be obsessing over someone like her.

Pt3????

[freakmcnastyy]

Try again when you're legal

Geum Seongjae x f!eader (fluff, one-shot)

Summary: First-year Seongjae catches feelings for an upperclassman.

Note: anon request! hope you like itt 🥹

⸻

Seongjae’s name wasn’t just known at your school — it was whispered about in every nearby high school. Everyone talked about him, but no one dared to say his name out loud. They just called him that kid.

Ever since the start of freshman year, rumors said he didn’t give a damn about anyone. If someone looked at him wrong? Hospital. Even the teachers stayed out of his way. The principal? Looked the other way and kept walking. Everyone knew he was in some gang called Union. Some even said he ran the damn thing.

⸻

One day, he saw you.

The bell had just rung, everyone scattering to class, and you were leaning against the wall, face buried in your phone. Your skirt had ridden up a bit, sleeves rolled to your elbows. He looked at you — not in some obvious, horny-ass way — but lowkey. Quiet. Focused.

It was the first time he went silent.

The first time he stared at someone like that.

He didn’t know what it meant.

“Upperclassman, huh? Even better,” he thought.

Because something about your resting bitch face and that bored, smug look in your eyes? Yeah, it fired him up.

But maybe it wasn’t even about you, maybe he just wanted to win. To break whatever wall you built around yourself.

⸻

The cafeteria was loud as hell. Chairs scraping, trays slamming, people yelling.

You were sitting alone in the back, quietly eating with one eye on your study notes. Until someone dropped into the seat across from you.

“Yo, pretty. What’re we eatin’ today? Y/N, right?”

You looked up. Three boys. The one in front — Seongjae. Of course you knew him. Everyone did. But this was the first time you saw him this up close.

You gave him a glare. “What do you want, brat?”

One of his friends laughed. “Damn, noona’s got bite.”

Seongjae didn’t even flinch. If anything, he looked like he was enjoying it. He leaned in, resting his arm on the table.

“You know, girls like you are rare in my year. You’re kinda a gem.”

You put your chopstick down, fully turning to him. “Did you fall on your head as a kid or something?”

The table laughed, but Seongjae went serious for a second, locking eyes with you.

Then came the grin. That stupid cocky grin.

“This is gonna be fun.”

⸻

During cleanup duty, the school split students across the building. You got stuck restocking the chem lab alone. The sun was setting, casting everything in a weird, soft glow.

You stretched up on your toes, trying to reach some heavy-ass chemical box on the top shelf, cursing under your breath.

“Who the hell designs shelves like this—”

Suddenly, someone reached past you. No noise, no warning. Just a calm, smooth hand grabbing the box.

Seongjae.

You turned.

He’d taken off his blazer, shirt slightly undone, hair a little messy.

He handed it over.

“You again?” you muttered.

“Mm-hmm. Miss me?”

“Didn’t even think of you.”

“That’s cold. Thought we had something special after the cafeteria.”

“You annoyed the shit outta me.”

He pouted like a toddler. “When are you gonna start missing me? Just curious.”

“When you disappear. Maybe.”

“Damn. That’s tough. Guess you’ll never get the chance — ‘cause letting you be? Not in my plans.”

You paused.

But only for a second. You bounced back quick.

“Back off. I’m cleaning.”

“I get it. Not easy, adjusting. To me.”

You gave him a look and for the first time, he was talking with no jokes, no bullshit. Just calm. Kinda sincere.

It was weird.

But, of course, he ruined it a second later.

“Though honestly, the way your back arched when you reached up? Jesus.”

“Hey!”

He laughed. Loud. Shameless.

“Okay okay, I’m done.”

You turned back to the shelf, and he headed to the door. But right before leaving, he tossed a line over his shoulder:

“But don't forget. Once I bite, I don't let go.”

And he was gone.

You stayed there, alone with your thoughts, cursing the fact that your heart was actually beating faster.

⸻

Rumors exploded.

At first it was just whispers — girls giggling in the halls. “Did you hear that crazy first-year has a thing for an upperclassman?” “Who?” they’d ask, and when your name dropped, jaws dropped too.

You — the cold, untouchable one. Him — a literal menace. Together? Unreal.

But it wasn’t just talk anymore. Every damn day in the cafeteria, in the halls, people saw it. Saw him trailing you like a puppy. Saw how you didn’t exactly shut him down anymore.

Some said, “It’s cute.”

Some said, “If she falls for him, I’m done respecting her.”

He was obsessed. And everyone knew it.

The kid who beat the shit out of people for looking at him the wrong way… was simping. Hard.

And people started asking:

“Wait… is this serious?”

⸻

One day after school.

Sun low, air cool. You had your earphones in, walking home, zoning out.

Until someone jumped on your back.

“Yo, gorgeous! Gimme a piggyback ride!”

You didn’t even flinch. Just glanced over your shoulder. “Get off, idiot.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.”

He slid down and started walking beside you, hands in his pockets, chill as ever — but still stealing glances at you like you were some rare art piece.

“You look extra sexy today. I’ve said that how many times now? I’ve lost count.”

You smiled. Barely. But he noticed.

“Wait. You smiled. You’re falling for me, aren’t you?”

You turned to him. “Try again when you're legal.”

“Daaamn, was that a wink?”

“My eye twitched from stress, dumbass.”

He laughed that stupid laugh again.

And this time, as you kept walking, you didn’t look so pissed off.

⸻

The library was dead silent.

You were browsing books, fingers brushing titles — and you heard his footsteps before you saw him.

“Hmm… think they got anything like How to Make Her Fall in Love With You?”

You didn’t even look. “What do you want now, Seongjae?”

“You.”

You grabbed a book off the shelf and turned. “I’m sick of you.”

He leaned against the end of the aisle, tilting his head. “Nah. You’re having fun.”

“When are you gonna stop?”

“When you love me.”

“Never.”

He smirked. “Y/N"

"What?"

"if I started hanging out with some other girl… would you get jealous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

You turned away, walking. But he followed, same pace, same breath. Like a shadow that refused to leave.

⸻

Another day, after class, you stayed back. A guy from your grade — Jiwon — asked about something. Homework, test stuff. It turned into a light chat. He smiled. You smiled back, politely.

Normal.

But not for the eyes watching from the hallway.

Seongjae was watching. He was standing in the doorway, his fists clenched, his jaw clenched. When Jiwon made you laugh, something snapped.

He left. Without a word.

⸻

Later, Jiwon was in the back garden, smoking.

Seongjae showed up. Quiet as hell. No warning.

Jiwon barely had time to react.

“You saw me in the doorway and still had the courage to keep talking?”

Jiwon shrugged. “We were just talking, bro.”

“You’re not gonna talk to her. Not look at her. Not stand near her.”

Jiwon backed up. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Chill the fuck out.”

Then came the punch.

Hard.

Jiwon hit the ground.

Seongjae stood over him, eyes cold. “That girl’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet. But she will. Touch her again, and I swear I’ll kill you.”

And he walked away.

⸻

Next day, the whole school was buzzing.

“He beat up Jiwon.”

“For that girl.”

“You know her?”

They did.

Girls whispered in the bathroom.

“He said, ‘Come near her again and I’ll end you.’ Like… full psycho vibes.”

“But like… kinda hot?”

“You think that’s hot?! He’s nuts.”

But in the mirror… you saw something else.

Your own face.

And a smile you didn’t mean to make.

“Did I… actually like that?”

You tried to push it away. That’s toxic. That’s insane. He’s aggressive. Violent. Possessive.

But…

He beat someone just for talking to you.

And it felt…

Kinda good.

“Am I sick in the head?” Yeah. 100%.

And that’s when you knew — somewhere in his obsession, there was something that wrapped around you like armor. Maybe it was messed up.

But it was real.

⸻

Cafeteria.

This time, you made the move. Grabbed your tray, scanned the room, found him. Same as always — chill, laid-back, surrounded by friends. You walked straight up.

His friends froze.

You didn’t.

“I’m sitting here.”

Seongjae grinned. “Welcome.”

You didn’t touch your food. Just stared at him.

“I heard what you did.”

He raised a brow. Not even pretending to be innocent.

“Which part?”

“You punched that guy.”

“He was talking to you.”

“It was about class.”

“I don't care.”

You laughed. Actually laughed. That unhinged grin of his met yours.

“Did it turn you on?”

You stared into his eyes. "That was the hottest thing a guy ever done for me."

He paused.

Then smirked.

You both grinned.

There was no fight, no chaos. Not right then.

But the war between you?

Already raging.

⸻

A week passed. Now you both were sitting together outside in the yard. To anyone watching, it was surreal. You — the quiet, always reserved girl — were sitting next to the most dangerous boy in the first grade. And not intimidated or withdrawn. You were relaxed. Even… Comfortable.

He handed you his juice.

“Mango. Try it. It’s fire.”

“Disgusting.”

“So we don’t share, huh?”

He slung his arm around your shoulders.

You didn’t move. At first. Then shrugged lightly. But didn’t say anything.

“That bothering you?”

“Not sure. Probably not.”

He laughed. Pulled you a little closer.

“Admit it. You’re falling for me.”

You smiled.

Didn’t say no.

[vargrblood]

Dating Yeon Sieun Headcanons

Yeon Sieun x Female!Reader

He leaves you for Ahn Suho

yeon sieun oneshot | weak hero masterlist

[juliettejwnewinesa]

masterlist🔥

seongjae:

dont speak

mine after

burnout

burn all down

lean on me

NSFW alphabet

like fire

first taste

second place

not innocent

the way you laugh

dont tap out

say that again

quiet temptations,part2

i can carry you

youve been holding out

safe word

cherries and cigs

gift-wrapped

ink and bruises

silent protection

everything im not

in your corner

angels like you

small hands big heart

you were gonna hide these?

[naebaetwsog]

New comfy start

Tws when you are a transferred student from a school where you suffered bullying.

genre. Angst, happy ending, school bullying.

warning. Bullying, triggering(sorry)

pairing. Classmate!tws x fem!reader

a/n. Hii, I came back, sorry for my disappearance. FIRST OF ALL tws comeback was amazing!!! The vibe, the songs, how creative the physical album was, how the promotion are being, everything about them and this comeback is peak.(just a lil sad bcs Hanjin continues with almost no lines…). SECOND OF ALL I’m doing this type of imagine bcs of weak hero class 2, as someone how waited 2 years for this(I first watched it in 2023), I loved it, and I can’t wait till class 3(im sure there is a class 3). Anyways I’m going to stop talking before I give spoilers. Please enjoy this writing, and keep supporting tws in their new comeback

Shinyu

You were just another new kid with a heavy silence around you, and Shinyu didn’t even realize you’d joined the class. He had his head down, hoodie pulled over his messy hair, catching up on sleep from staying up late gaming. The teacher’s voice was nothing but background noise to him. It wasn’t until second period, when he finally looked up, that he noticed you—sitting at the far side of the room, eyes fixed on your notebook.

He quietly asked his tablemate, “Who’s that?” And when they told him you were a transfer, something about that made his chest tighten.

At break, gossip flew like wildfire. Whispers of your past—the bullying, the beatings, the reason you had to transfer schools—spread like smoke. Shinyu stood in the hallway, absorbing it all in silence. His face didn’t change, but his steps grew faster. He didn’t even know why, but he had to find you. Maybe to say something. Maybe just to check if you were okay.

But you were already gone.

You were in the bathroom stall, trying not to hyperventilate. The walls felt like they were closing in, and the sound of distant laughter made your heart race. You didn’t know the rumors were about you. You didn’t want to.

Shinyu only saw you again after class, standing alone at the bus stop. He hesitated, then slowly approached, hands stuffed deep in his hoodie pocket. “Hi,” he mumbled. “I’m Shinyu… I didn’t get to say hi earlier.”

You looked at him, startled, and mumbled your name, voice so soft he had to lean in. He didn’t press. Didn’t ask. Just nodded and sat down beside you, a comfortable distance away. From then on, he didn’t hover—just made sure you never felt alone. Leaving you space when you needed it. Quietly walking beside you when the silence felt safe.

Eventually, you smiled at him. And that’s when he knew—he’d earned your trust.

Dohoon

Dohoon stormed into class fifteen minutes late, hair tousled from the wind, casually flashing a sheepish grin at the teacher before slipping into his seat. He didn’t notice you at first. Not until class was over and he stood up, stretching, then caught sight of you hunched over your desk.

New face.

Dohoon wasn’t nosy, just naturally kind. So he walked over, smiling. “Hey, I’m Dohoon. You’re new, right?” His tone was soft, warm.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t even look up (newton third law, ifykyk). Fear gripped you like a reflex—something about his tall figure, the closeness, the crowd still shuffling around—it paralyzed you.

He blinked, confused, and backed off immediately. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He walked away, but he didn’t forget. A few days later, it happened.

You were waiting for the bus when a group of girls cornered you. You tried to ignore them, but their words were sharp, cutting deep where the wounds hadn’t healed yet. You were already crying when Dohoon walked past and stopped dead in his tracks.

His eyes darkened. “Hey.”

The girls turned, and suddenly their tone changed. “Oh my God, Dohoonie oppa—hi!”

He didn’t even acknowledge them.

He walked straight up to you, gently took your hand, and led you away without a word. You barely noticed where he was taking you until you were sitting in a quiet little café with a warm drink in your hands and a cookie on a napkin beside it.

“Eat,” he said, sitting across from you. “You don’t have to talk. I’ll stay.”

And from that moment on, he did. He showed up every morning just to walk with you. Sat with you at lunch. Walked you home when he could. And if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, his glare alone was enough to send them running.

He didn’t save you—he gave you the space to save yourself.

Youngjae

He didn’t talk much, and he liked it that way. Youngjae preferred silence, not out of awkwardness, but because it was peaceful. He noticed you right away when the teacher introduced you. Something about the way you avoided everyone’s gaze felt familiar.

He didn’t approach you after class. He just watched you walk out, a little too fast, like you didn’t want to be seen. Then, slowly, he followed—quiet footsteps, careful not to startle you.

You noticed him when you turned a corner. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile. Just held out a small packet of gummies, then turned to walk with you.

It became a habit.

He never forced conversation. Just walked beside you in silence, always offering a small snack like it was your daily ritual. You didn’t know why you let him, but something about his quiet presence felt safe. Like he wasn’t expecting anything from you.

One day, your hand brushed his when you both reached for the same gummy. You looked up, startled, and finally whispered, “Why do you keep walking with me?”

Youngjae shrugged. “You looked like you needed a friend.”

That was it. That was the moment.

From then on, you talked more. And laughed. And eventually, he became your person. The one who sat next to you during tests. The one who left notes in your locker. The one who never needed to say much to make you feel seen.

Hanjin

The second the teacher finished introducing you, Hanjin clapped—loudly. “Welcome!” he beamed, flashing his signature grin. You shrank into your seat, mortified.

He didn’t care. He was too excited. At lunch, he was already standing at your desk, hands in his pockets, grinning. “Let’s eat together?”

You said yes—not out of comfort, but fear. You didn’t know if saying no would offend him. He didn’t seem dangerous, but you’d learned the hard way that anyone could be.

Still, lunch was… nice. He talked enough for both of you. Made stupid jokes. Got ketchup on his shirt. You barely spoke, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Later, you told him everything—about the old school, the bruises, the nights spent crying under the covers. He didn’t cry. Just nodded slowly, then said, “Okay. So I’m sitting next to you now. Forever.”

And he did.

He changed his seat. Brought you extra snacks. Waved dramatically when he saw you in the hallway. Called you nicknames that made you groan but secretly made your day.

He made you feel like you mattered. Like your story wasn’t something to hide, but something that made you stronger.

Jihoon

Before the teacher could even ask, Jihoon raised his hand. “I’ll sit with them.”

His voice was soft but steady. You looked up, surprised. He smiled at you—nothing too much. Just enough to feel safe.

He didn’t talk much during class. But the second the bell rang, he lit up. “Want a tour? I’m Jihoon. The nicest person in this school, probably.”

You followed him silently, and he didn’t mind. He showed you everything—from the weird art room to the best vending machine. “This one gives extra snacks sometimes. It’s magic.”

He introduced you to all his friends. Spoke for you when you couldn’t. Sat beside you during every class he could. And when you didn’t show up to school one day, he called you on FaceTime during break just to say, “Hey. Everyone misses you. I do too.”

You cried the day you told him your story. And Jihoon cried too.

From then on, it was impossible to separate you two. If anyone tried, it felt wrong. He was your safe place. Your loudest cheerleader. The light in the middle of your darkest year.

Kyungmin

Kyungmin was sunshine in human form. He smiled at everyone. Helped teachers carry boxes. Always smelled like sweet lemon (make it make sense).

He knew about you before you even walked through the classroom door.

He didn’t approach you at first. But every time he heard someone whisper about you, say something cruel, laugh too loud—he shut it down instantly. “Don’t talk about people you don’t know,” he’d say, sweetly but firmly.

One day, you dropped your pencil and flinched when he bent down to pick it up. His heart cracked.

That’s when he made a decision.

He was going to make you smile.

Bit by bit, he tried. Left little notes in your locker. Complimented your drawings. Helped you carry your bag. Asked about your day. The first time you laughed at one of his jokes, he nearly cried.

Eventually, you opened up. And he listened like your story was sacred.

With Kyungmin, healing didn’t feel like recovery. It felt like joy. Like getting to be a kid again. Like remembering what it felt like to smile without guilt.

And in the end, you did. All the time. Because of him.

[niki-phoria]

kiss me now or never / 'cause moments fade away / and nothing lasts forever

(gn reader / comfort / 1.8k words) after a night terror, sieun goes for a walk and finds himself back in the arms of an estranged childhood friend

it started slow. at first they were short - small interruptions to his nightly routine. however, as time passed, they grew. first in frequency and then in intensity. it was always the same: that boxing ring. suho. that boxing ring. beomseok. the darkness slowly closed in on him, keeping him hostage. he could move. couldn’t breathe. and then-

YEON SIEUN wakes with a jolt. his body shoots upright in bed, throwing the sheets off of himself in the process. wide eyes scan throughout the darkness, desperately searching for something to ground himself. he can just barely make out the familiar silhouette of his bedroom. his heart beats erratically in his chest. 

sieun buries his head into his hands. small droplets of sweat have gathered on the edge of his temple. his face is flushed; his skin feels hot against his palms. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard that he can see stars. in the quiet of his mother’s apartment, the darkness offers little comfort. 

his mind races. his therapist’s words ring in his ears. five things you can see. four things you can touch. three you can hear. two you can smell. one you can taste. aftershocks of the nightmare linger. he takes a shaky breath. breath in. hold. breath out. his hands tremble. 

move. he has to move. sieun pushes his blankets fully to the side, standing on shaky legs. he sees the glint of the doorknob when he reaches out to turn it. 

lit by the moonlight outside, sieun wanders around the kitchen. his hand grazes the edge of the small dining room table, only meant for one, maneuvering around the furniture cautiously. he paces once. then again. then again. it feels suffocating. 

sieun moves without thinking. he wanders back into his bedroom, slipping out of his sleepwear in favor of an old t-shirt and track pants meant for his gym class. a pair of slides lay at the door beside a pair of his mother’s heels. sieun slips them on without much thought before shoving his phone into his pocket. 

glancing over his shoulder, he can see his mother’s bedroom door, still closed. he pictures her inside, asleep, none the wiser. with one last sigh, sieun slips outside.

the night welcomes him with open arms and a gentle breeze. it rustles his bangs and sends goosebumps arising on the exposed skin of his forearms. a small ache burrows in the bone of his right wrist just enough to be known - a small, painful reminder of the past. sieun curls his hands at his sides. 

seoul never sleeps. despite the late hour, the city’s night life continues bustling. cars race past, their headlights cutting through the darkness. billboards and office buildings paint the sky neon, blocking the view of any stars. sieun presses himself closer to the side of a building as a group of college kids stumble past. they smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. he holds his breath. 

sieun continues on, wandering through the city. he retraces familiar routes: the local convenience store to occasionally pick up instant noodles and pencil lead; a nightclub blasting music like a siren’s song; the entrance to a local park where he scraped his knees on the basketball court as a child. 

sieun sighs. he shakes his head as if to rid himself of his nostalgia. childhood was far away now. besides, thinking was the reason why he was out walking in the middle of the night in the first place. 

sieun steps forwards once, about to continue, and then pauses. he knows this place. he’s been here before - too many times to count. looking up, sieun stares at the large, gray building. identical doors fill each floor, only differentiated by a small, black plaque engraved with a golden number. a metal staircase wraps around its side. sieun’s gaze remains trained on one door. apartment 406. 

it had been years since you had spoken. in middle school, sieun had thrown himself into his studies even more than before. your weekly meetings had slowly dwindled, replaced instead by cram school and private tutoring. sieun’s calls became shorter, less frequent. texts also started to disappear. paragraphs became sentences. then, they disappeared entirely.

in the years since, sieun had trained himself to not think about it. to not think about you. he wasn’t sure you even lived in that apartment anymore. a few months after you stopped calling, you stopped attending his cram school. he didn’t hear about you in class anymore. didn’t see you with your new friends. but he just can’t help it.

his body is moving before he can stop himself. sieun’s feet stomp against the metal stairs, surely disrupting at least one of your neighbors. he twists around the bend like he’s running from something. like he can’t escape. 

sieun doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of your door. he’s panting, now; his skin is flushed and all he can hear is the sound of his pounding heartbeat in his ears. he curls his hand into a fist, digs his nails into his palm. this is a bad idea, he thinks. he doesn’t know you anymore. but in the dead of night, sieun doesn’t care. he raises a shaky hand. trembles. hesitates. and then, finally, he knocks. 

sieun retracts immediately, almost as if he’s been burned. his arms fall back to his sides, stiff and unmoving. he stills. 

a few moments of silence pass, though they feel like hours. he turns, glancing over his shoulder towards the way he came. he could slip away - disappear into the darkness and return home. forget this ever happened. pretend he never left. 

the door opens. a quiet creak breaks the silence as the door protests against its own weight. sieun’s breath catches in his throat. 

you stand in the doorway, halfway leaning against the doorframe. you’re taller than he remembers - taller than him now. a t-shirt hangs off your shoulders, ending just above the hem of your sweatpants. you’re rubbing your eyes, probably silently cursing whoever woke you up so late at night. 

shifting slightly, you squint at him in the darkness. you blink. a flicker of surprise crosses your face. “sieun?” you whisper. 

“y/n,” sieun breathes. your name leaves his lips like a prayer. it’s been years since he gave himself permission to say it - let alone out loud. his mind races almost as fast as his heartbeat. every word he wants to say seems to die in his throat. he chokes on his hesitation before forcing some out. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to bother you, i’ll go-” 

“wait!” sieun flinches when you reach out, grabbing his wrist in your hand. that ache in his wrist throbs just a little bit, still a tender wound despite the cast having been removed. your eyebrows furrow, lips curling into a soft frown. your grip loosens, but you don’t let go. not entirely. not yet. you swallow. “do you want to come in?” 

sieun’s breath hitches in his throat. a beat of silence passes. your gaze holds his steadily despite the way his eyes flicker across your face. somehow, it feels impossible to say no. “okay.”

you don’t say anything else. you don’t need to. sieun remains silent as you push the door to fully open, making space for him to enter your apartment. he slips off his shoes, pushing them to stay beside yours. the action is familiar in a way that makes him feel uneasy. 

moonlight and muscle memory guide him as he slowly makes his way to your couch. it’s different than the one you had when you were kids. newer. the cushion sags beneath his weight. 

you move to sit beside sieun, pulling your legs up beneath you. even in the darkness, he can see how you fidget with your hands in your lap. your voice is soft when you break the silence. “how have you been?” 

“fine.” 

“sieun…” you sigh. truthfully, he had never been able to lie to you. as kids, you were much quicker to call him out, demanding the truth no matter how embarrassing it was. now, though, the silence lingers. 

sieun looks away. his eyes have adjusted to the darkness now. he can see the outline of your dining table. he remembers dinners filled with laughs and warmth; your mother would place food into his rice bowl. beneath the table, your knee would knock against his own. 

he stills when you shuffle closer. you’re closer to his body now - close enough to make butterflies swarm throughout his stomach. his heart beats rapidly in his chest. 

tentatively, you reach over, placing your hand on top of his own. your thumb strokes against his still-bruised knuckles, tracing over small scars. your skin feels warm against his own. the feeling sends shivers racing down his spine. he inhales sharply. 

“it’s okay,” you whisper. your voice is quiet. sieun stares at the ground. tears threaten to blur his vision as he furiously blinks them away. you pause, taking a breath before you continue. “whatever’s going on, it’s okay.” 

the dam breaks. tears roll down sieun’s cheeks, catching on the curve of his jawline. he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down on his bottom lip hard. he tastes blood from the fresh wound. he holds onto his thigh, hoping the feeling will be enough to ground himself. but it’s not enough. 

despite his best efforts, a choked sob escapes from his throat. he doubles over, curling into himself. his hands tremble. 

“oh, sieun,” you whisper. you’re surrounding him now, pulling him into your arms like second nature. your arms wrap around his waist as his head falls to rest against the crook of your neck. his hands grip onto the fabric of your t-shirt, clinging to you like your body is a raft in a storm.

you reach up, gently rubbing a hand against sieun’s back. his tears wet the hem of your t-shirt. “i’m here,” you murmur. “i’ve got you.” 

slowly but surely, sieun’s sobs dwindle into nothing. you continue to rub your hand against his back as silence envelops your apartment once again. sieun’s grip on your shirt has loosened, now replaced by his arms resting languidly around your waist. the position makes heat rise to his face, but he doesn’t dare pull away. 

finally, sieun breaks the silence. his voice is quiet, little more than a whisper, but it’s there. “i missed you.” 

you smile softly. you pull away just enough to coax sieun’s head away from your neck. his cheeks are puffy when you reach up, cupping his face between your hands. “i missed you, too.” 

sieun sighs quietly. he moves in a daze, letting you twist to the side and pulling him down to lay down on your couch. his arms haven’t moved from around your waist, keeping your bodies close together. 

sieun sighs quietly as he leans his head against your chest. his eyes slowly begin to flutter shut, only spurred on by the emotional exhaustion of the night and your fingers carefully carding through his hair. “thank you,” he whispers. 

you simply lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. “get some rest, sieun.” 

notes: weak hero reqs would be greatly appreciated <33, this started as a small nightmare comfort drabble and spiraled, there's an aib reference if you squint, sieun needs a hug AND GETS ONE, thinking of making a part two if anyone wants, possibly occ sieun, written with male reader in mind, title from pierce the veil - kiss me now

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or reblogging !! and if you want to support me, you can find more weak hero fics here <33

[prettypeppermint]

name of the game.

for g. seongje. a continuation of 'slapkiss.'

'If you loved me and I told you I wanted to die, would you beg me not to, or would you kill me instead?'

~~~

You watch as he beats the boy's skull into the floor, one punch after another. Your back is pressed against the chilled cement wall. A cigarette lingers between your fingers, which you occasionally bring to your lips.

He doesn't glance over at you to make sure that you're watching. He knows you are. He knows you'll always do what he asks, eventually.

A sigh falls from your lips. This is his leisure, but you're getting bored.

"You said we'd get hot pot today," you say through a tired puff of smoke.

Seongje throws the final blow--goes in for the kill. He stands, sniffs, and licks the blood from his lips.

"You're right, I did say that," he responds casually before sending a relentless kick into the boy's ribs. "But I'm craving chicken now." He shoves his hands in his pockets before strolling towards the open warehouse gate. He stops and looks behind him, straight at you. That's another thing you like about him--when he does decide to look, it's always your eyes, first.

"You coming?"

You snub your half-finished cigarette out against the wall behind you before pushing away from it. You walk to him how you always do--slowly, but you know he'll always wait, and you'll always end up right where he's waiting.

He pulls out a cigarette. On cue, you light it for him.

~~~

"What a shit day," he says after slurping his ramen.

"I thought you wanted chicken."

"I changed my mind." He looks up, and something lingers in the space between you. "Did you change your hair?"

"No."

"It looks different." He digs around his bowl with his chopsticks, looking for more spam at the bottom. You decided you weren't hungry after sitting down.

You realize Seongje isn't really asking if your hair is different; rather, he knows it definitely is. You didn't wear your hair clip today, the one he bought for you. You're supposed to wear it every day, and you're not supposed to forget.

You watch him as he eats.

You remember when he first gave it to you, pulling it out of his blazer pocket and tossing it in your direction. So people know who you belong to, he said. You looked at the Miu Miu clip in your hands, embellished with crystals all over. Seongje could buy Miu Miu itself if he wanted to.

"I lost it," you say, testing him.

He doesn't look up at you. Instead, he picks up his bowl and drinks the last of the broth. "You lost it, huh?" he echoes.

You don't respond.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. You want to take his glasses off; the harsh restaurant lights cast a glare on the lenses. You want to see him the way he sees you--clear and unobstructed through the frames. You see your own reflection looking back at you.

"You'll have to make it up to me, then, won't you?"

His hand reaches across the table and sifts through a lock of hair framing your face. He examines each strand. "Should I shave your head? Long, pretty hair like yours sells for a lot." You can see the thought light up his face--the smile curl into his lips.

"Or I can take you back tonight and fuck a proper apology out of you." It comes out easily for him, like his first nature is being crude. His words are smooth and steady, and they almost comfort you.

"It's been a while since I've taught you a lesson. I've been fucking nice recently, haven't I?" His head quirks to the side as he seems to genuinely ponder the thought. A crackle leaves his throat, and he laughs through that smile you've wanted so many times to only appear when he's with you.

~~~

You lie in his bed, your blouse unbuttoned and glued to your bare chest with sweat. Your skirt is still on.

He sits in front of his PC smoking a cigarette in a crisp black shirt and expensive sweatpants. An ashtray sits on a pile of report cards. The clacking of his keyboard, gunshots, and the occasional curse as he plays his game are the only sounds in the room. His focus is like a live wire.

And then it snaps. He shoots up abruptly from his chair and chucks his mouse across the bed. It zips past your body and breaks against the wall. You scroll on your phone. He's peculiar in many ways. Pummeling real people to a pulp is just for fun, but there's nothing he takes more seriously than his in-person shooters.

Suddenly, he's snatching the phone from your hand and tossing it to the side. Before you can process your last thought, he's on the bed and yanking you by the ankle towards him in one swift motion, silent and seething. His head knocks against yours before dipping into the crook of your shoulder. He inhales and bites down on your pulse before you feel an abrupt intrusion--a heat that spreads and stings every time. His thumb finds the scar on your chest--digs into it.

You wince as he pulls back, and you catch the familiar smell of shampoo in his hair, the crisp linen of his shirt.

From this angle, he looks more familiar than ever--staring down at your spotless face despite the bruises littering your body. He never pays much attention to them--little trophies of his ownership staining your smooth skin. You know he puts them there for you to look at instead.

He jerks your leg up onto his shoulder, eyes boring into yours as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your leg, stopping at your ankle. His teeth meet bone.

~~~

He's back to his game as if nothing happened, eyes glued to the screen. You see its reflection in his glasses.

Nothing ever shakes him--only bounces right back. No matter how close you get compared to the rest, you'll never know him the way he knows himself. Strangely, it makes you feel seen--you've never met someone like you before.

You stay in bed, now topless and heavy with exhaustion.

"Don't sleepover," he says, still stuck to his screen. He doesn't have to look to know you're starting to drift off.

With that, you slowly prop yourself up and start getting dressed, assembling the uniform that was just torn from your body. His clicking and clacking become more rapid before he exhales in victory. "Fuck, finally." He sinks back in his chair and spins on its wheels so he can face you--legs spread and frame relaxed. His eyes scan you up and down. "What do you think you're doing?" he asks.

"You said not to sleepover."

His head tilts just slightly, like the ticking of a second on the clock. "I didn't say you could leave, either. You still haven't given me a proper apology."

Seongje never keeps promises--you know that firsthand. He's volatile and unpredictable in a calculated way. He flips like a switch, only if he feels like it. He owns what he can rule and discards what he can't. He controls through chaos.

He gets everything because he commits to nothing. That's why Geum Seongje always wins.

You stand with your blouse half-buttoned and skirt misaligned. He glances down at the floor, then back at you. "Come here."

You listen, stopping in the space between his legs. He smirks up at you. "Get on your knees and do it properly," he says, and it's smooth and steady like melting ice.

Slowly, you kneel down and look at your hands as they form fists in your lap. When you don't speak or move, he nudges you with his foot. "You're gonna act stupid now? Tell your boyfriend you're sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Suddenly, your head is shoved to the side, his large palm enveloping half your skull. "Fuck, do I have to tell you how to do everything? Sorry for what?" His voice splits the previous stillness of the room and rings in your ear.

"For losing something you gave me."

"You don't look sorry to me." You practically hear the idea taking shape in his head. "Take your shirt off. Maybe then I'll forgive you."

After a moment, you unbutton your blouse and begin to peel it from your body.

He kicks your knee. "Faster," he says, his patience ticking away by the second. You let the shirt slip to the floor.

"Skirt."

You unzip your pleated skirt and perch yourself up a bit to maneuver it down your legs, leaving yourself completely bare in front of him.

His eyes study every detail--every bruise and bite mark. It's surgical, like he's scanning for errors.

After taking in your current state, an amused scoff slips past his smirk. "Fuck, you really are a pathetic bitch." He loses himself in laughter. "You'll do anything I tell you."

He pets your head before shoving it aside, and it feels like a reward.

He lights a cigarette and leans in so close you can smell it on his breath. "And you never even complain. It's like you were made for it," he muses before blowing smoke right in your face. It stings your downcast eyes but swells something deep within you.

He taps your cheek with his palm before sitting up again and starting a new match. "Just stay like that," he says, eyes absorbed by the monitor once more.

~~~

The next day, you find him waiting for you at your school's gate, hands in his slacks' pockets. The girls cast glances and hurry past him--a speck of crimson in a sea of navy blue skirts.

No one would ever think that just last night, you were kneeling naked in front of him.

You're as pristine and put-together as always, not a single trace of the night before on any part of you.

As you walk down the sloping hill to the gate, the sun catches on the crystals in your hair. You have the Miu Miu hair clip tucked just above your left ear, where it always is--where it always should be. From where he's standing, it makes it seem like you're shimmering.

You're almost blinding. But you see him clear as day. Even from a distance, you can tell his presence is accompanied by motive; if you really did go to school without the hair clip today, people would assume you broke up. He's making sure everyone still knows who you belong to. In the flesh.

You maintain your composure; your environment virtually demands it of you--a prestigious, all-girls private school feeding students abroad every year.

The less you reveal, the less people know. That's how you keep yourself at the top--no one can ruin you if they don't know who you are. When you're number one, everyone sees you, but you've ensured that no one can touch you.

He doesn't mention the hair clip, just turns on his heel and expects you to follow. You fall in step behind him and decide not to mention what you both already know.

You love to lie, and you do it earnestly, to which he feigns ignorance and hurts you like you hate it. You love the way he kills something inside you--hollows you out to make room for him. You're addicted to this game--this nourishment--and you live to play. You know all the right buttons to push, all the cool-down times, all the shortcuts.

You'll never feel more alive than when you think he's going to kill you.

There's an ecstasy to predictability, and that's something Geum Seongje will never understand.

x.