i know i’ve been gone for a little while so I’m gonna go on an official semi-hiatus and finish(/start) all my requests so they’ll be closed till i’m done !!
i’m most likely going to either post them in bulk or finally get a proper schedule going
YOU WEREN'T MAD AT JEONGIN. not one hundred percent, at least.
there was no way that you, his so called favorite hyung, could ever get annoyed at jeongin for more than five minutes. but you were definitely wanting an explanation for this.
jeongin had done something irreversible, that no apology would ever get you to look at him the same way you used to. this was just- absolutely unacceptable!
that's how you've found yourself knocking on the dimple dorm's door like a maniac. which is also why he probably hasn't answered yet, since chris was still out in the studio.
“yang jeongin! open the door! i know you're in there!” you tried the door bell twice, and then went back to knocking.
it has been, what? ten minutes since you've been standing outside of their dorm like a creep? well, not exactly a creep. you just needed jeongin to explain himself.
right as you were about to kick on the door, you heard someone behind you— “hyung?”
that was enough for you to jump on your feet and turn around, catching jeongin's eyes. oh. he wasn't home, then. you had been yelling to an empty house.
“... hi iyen–ah,” you smiled at him, stepping aside so he could unlock the door, “where were you? i needed to talk to you.”
“i was in the gym?”
ah. right. you forgot he goes to gym with chris now. not that you cared right now.
you waited until jeongin had stepped inside to follow behind and slam the door shut behind you—and accidentally scaring jeongin for half a second—crossing your arms, “so? are you not going to explain it?”
the boy only stared at you, frowning, “explain what?”
“the video!”
jeongin, still confused, only gave you one last look before turning around to place his bag somewhere you didn't care enough right now and then go to the bathroom, “i don't know what you're talking about, hyung.”
“yes you do! stop being so nonchalant!” you said, going after jeongin with an angry expression that could only make him chuckle.
he ignored you for a moment, taking his sweet time to wash his hands, drying them with the towel, before finally acknowledging you standing in front of the bathroom, “well, why don't you just tell me why you were harassing my door?”
“why did you post that gym video before sending me?!”
for the first time in a while, you've managed to get jeongin flustered outside of recording. he blinked a few times at you, until his mind finally clicked on what you meant, cheeks going pink.
“w-what?”
“chris has recorded you working out, with that shirt, in that angle, and you didn't send it to me right away?!”
“are you mad because you wanted a video of me working out?!”
“answer the question!”
both of you stared at each other, jeongin still, flustered—mostly in disbelief at what he was hearing—and you getting embarrassed at how stupid this whole situation sounded now that you think about it.
“i– what do you want me to say?” he finally managed to say, running a hand through his hair.
“well, you can start by apologising for not sending me the video right away.”
“... riight. i'm sorry, hyung, for not sending you a video of me working out as if you couldn't just go with us to the gym.”
“hey! that's different. i don't have a video to rewatch when i feel like it!”
the moment you said that, jeongin's eyes widened for a split second, and then his cheeks managed to get even more pink than before, “why do you wanna rewatch that video?”
you pouted at him, taking a step closer and placing your hand on his shoulder, “because you were too hot.”
“alright, can you not say that,” jeongin pushed your hand away from him, yet instantly pulled you back again by your waist as if he couldn't stand being away from you right now.
you giggled, playfully patting his head while leaning on his shoulder now, “what? it's true. baby bread is all grown up now.”
“don't call me that...” you felt him pull you even closer, whining. you couldn't help yourself. despite the video and everything, he was still baby bread. your baby bread.
“alright, alright, i'm sorry,” you said, adding right away, “but you're recording more of those for me right?”
─── 𝑓rom 로하 :: hii might do a part 2.. yknow, get to the kiss part if u guys r interested♡ if u can reblog, pls do, ppl haven't been reblogging a lot and this makes us writers lose motivation :( ♡⸝⸝
authors note: back with criminal/yan!jeongin yay everyone should read all of @wonroha ‘s works for dragging me out the trenches fr…i’m not a fan of this but yk
summary: jeongin struggles to understand your fear, convincing himself it's just confusion. he just loves you so much
warnings: implied murder (nobody important), manipulation, almost blowjob, barely edited and i’ve also never written anything like someone getting blown before so…
wc: 1,168
You looked at him, scared. Jeongin noticed it immediately, of course he did, he just didn’t understand it.
Was it him? Or what he had done?
…No, it couldn’t be him.
Still, you stepped forward, slowly, carefully like you were approaching something that might snap.
“It’s…it’s okay,” you said, voice unsteady. “We can just…clean this up.”
Glass cracked beneath your feet with every step, sharp sounds echoing through the empty alleyway. Somewhere behind him, something wet dripped steadily onto concrete.
Jeongin stayed hunched over, his hands covering his face.
You reached for him anyway, your fingers trembled, he noticed that, but you still pulled his hands away, still forced yourself to look at him. The second your skin touched his, you swallowed hard.
“…are you hurt?” you asked.
He shook his head. Of course he wasn’t.
You cupped his face anyway, always so gentle with him.
You tilted his head down, pressing your forehead against his, your nose brushing his like it always did, like this was something soft, something safe.
“Why—” you started.
Then stopped, eyes flickering past him.
Jeongin followed the movement.
Ah.
That.
“…let’s just clean up and go home,” you finished quietly.
Your voice sounded wrong, you were forcing it.
Jeongin didn’t like that.
So he fixed it.
He stood, grabbed the body, and dragged it away without hesitation. It was heavy, but that didn’t matter. None of it did. Not when it meant you wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.
Not when it meant you’d stop looking like that.
He shoved it into the trunk.
Closed it.
The car ride was quiet, too quiet.
Jeongin’s hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles white. He could feel your presence beside him—small, stiff, and distant.
He didn’t like that either.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
A pause.
“…I know.” Your voice sounded smaller than before.
That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how you were supposed to sound.
“Tell me,” he said.
Silence.
He glanced at you briefly. You were staring straight ahead, unmoving.
“…I love you, hyung.”
There it was.
Better.
——————————————————
Jeongin stared at his reflection.
Jaw tight, Eyes dull.
The memory clung to him longer than it should have.
He spat into the sink, watching red swirl faintly against white foam of toothpaste before disappearing down the drain. He brushed harder. Again and again.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He didn’t understand. That man had hurt you.
Jeongin had seen it. Heard it. The way your voice used to shrink, the way you’d flinch at things that shouldn’t make you flinch.
Jeongin had fixed it, he had protected you.
So why, why did you still look afraid? Why did you still hesitate? Why did you sound like that?
His grip tightened on the sink.
You didn’t understand. That was all. You just didn’t understand yet.
——————————————————
“—you don’t!” you snapped.
You were pacing again.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Like you were trying to wear a path into the floor. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“I do,” Jeongin replied evenly, sitting at the edge of the bed, watching you.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
You shook your head, frustrated, your hands dragging through your hair.
“No, you don’t—because if you did, you wouldn’t—” you cut yourself off, breath hitching.
Jeongin stood. You stepped back.
Once. Twice. Again.
Each step you took away from him carved something sharp into his chest.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
You laughed. A broken, disbelieving sound.
“You already do.”
That…That wasn’t true.
His expression hardened slightly. He kept walking, slow and self assured, until your back hit the wall — trapped.
“Don’t say things like that,” he murmured.
His voice softened again, like it always did when you got like this.
“You don’t love me,” you said, your voice cracking despite the force behind it. “You love that I’m here. That I’m yours. That you can control—”
“No,” he cut in quietly.
You froze.
“I love you.”
Simple.
Obvious.
True.
His hand came up, cupping your face.
“I take care of you,” he continued. “I keep you safe.”
Your eyes shimmered, but you didn’t look away.“That’s what love is.”
You shook your head weakly. “That’s not—”
“You’re scared,” he said, firmer now. “That’s all this is.”
His thumb brushed along your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realised had fallen.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t mean the things you’re saying.”
Your hands pressed lightly against his chest.
Not pushing.
Just… there.
“I do,” you whispered.
He pressed another kiss to your nose, then cheek, then just shy of your mouth, each lasting longer than the one before.
Jeongin’s presence swallowed yours whole. “Then tell me to stop—” He sunk to his knees, “—if you hate me that much.”
Your breath hitched as he pushed up your t-shirt, kissing the bare skin there.
Your hands curled into his hair instead, you had done nothing but stare futility.
He undid the zipper of your jeans with his teeth, hands keeping a bruising grip on your hips to keep you in place.
You bit the back of your free hand, trying to stifle a whimper.
Jeongin’s expression softened instantly.
There it was.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“…I know.”
“Tell me.”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
And gave him what he needed.
“…I love you, hyung.”
——————————————————
He comes down the stairs.
You’re in the kitchen, sat at the counter, staring blankly at the marble.
You’re wearing his clothes, in his kitchen, eating the food he made, right where you belonged
Jeongin smiles faintly.
He walks over, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Morning, doll.”
You shifted slightly, just to get away from his hold
Yet you remained there, still within reach.
“Don’t be like that,” he says lightly.
You try to move again.
This time, he caught your chin in a firm grip “Y/n.”
You hesitate before looking at him.
“There we go, good job.” he murmurers.
He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, grounding you back with devastating soft familiarity.
“Did I scare you?”
You nodded. Always honest with him.
Jeongin’s expression melted instantly.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“…I know.”
His thumb traced along your jaw, slow and soothing.
“Tell me.”
You looked away for a second, then back.
“…I love you, hyung.”
That was all he needed.
Later, you were curled into him on the sofa, tucked neatly against his side as he scrolled through movies, one arm wrapped securely around you. Holding you in place, keeping you warm, keeping you safe.
You didn’t try to move, didn’t try to leave.
Your breathing eventually evened out against his chest.
Jeongin glanced down at you, a satisfied, smug expression settling into his face.
See?
Everything was fine. You just needed time. Time to understand.
His grip tightened slightly, almost unconsciously, as his chin rested against the top of your head.
authors note: back with criminal/yan!jeongin yay everyone should read all of @wonroha ‘s works for dragging me out the trenches fr…i’m not a fan of this but yk
summary: jeongin struggles to understand your fear, convincing himself it's just confusion. he just loves you so much
warnings: implied murder (nobody important), manipulation, almost blowjob, barely edited and i’ve also never written anything like someone getting blown before so…
wc: 1,168
You looked at him, scared. Jeongin noticed it immediately, of course he did, he just didn’t understand it.
Was it him? Or what he had done?
…No, it couldn’t be him.
Still, you stepped forward, slowly, carefully like you were approaching something that might snap.
“It’s…it’s okay,” you said, voice unsteady. “We can just…clean this up.”
Glass cracked beneath your feet with every step, sharp sounds echoing through the empty alleyway. Somewhere behind him, something wet dripped steadily onto concrete.
Jeongin stayed hunched over, his hands covering his face.
You reached for him anyway, your fingers trembled, he noticed that, but you still pulled his hands away, still forced yourself to look at him. The second your skin touched his, you swallowed hard.
“…are you hurt?” you asked.
He shook his head. Of course he wasn’t.
You cupped his face anyway, always so gentle with him.
You tilted his head down, pressing your forehead against his, your nose brushing his like it always did, like this was something soft, something safe.
“Why—” you started.
Then stopped, eyes flickering past him.
Jeongin followed the movement.
Ah.
That.
“…let’s just clean up and go home,” you finished quietly.
Your voice sounded wrong, you were forcing it.
Jeongin didn’t like that.
So he fixed it.
He stood, grabbed the body, and dragged it away without hesitation. It was heavy, but that didn’t matter. None of it did. Not when it meant you wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.
Not when it meant you’d stop looking like that.
He shoved it into the trunk.
Closed it.
The car ride was quiet, too quiet.
Jeongin’s hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles white. He could feel your presence beside him—small, stiff, and distant.
He didn’t like that either.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
A pause.
“…I know.” Your voice sounded smaller than before.
That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how you were supposed to sound.
“Tell me,” he said.
Silence.
He glanced at you briefly. You were staring straight ahead, unmoving.
“…I love you, hyung.”
There it was.
Better.
——————————————————
Jeongin stared at his reflection.
Jaw tight, Eyes dull.
The memory clung to him longer than it should have.
He spat into the sink, watching red swirl faintly against white foam of toothpaste before disappearing down the drain. He brushed harder. Again and again.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He didn’t understand. That man had hurt you.
Jeongin had seen it. Heard it. The way your voice used to shrink, the way you’d flinch at things that shouldn’t make you flinch.
Jeongin had fixed it, he had protected you.
So why, why did you still look afraid? Why did you still hesitate? Why did you sound like that?
His grip tightened on the sink.
You didn’t understand. That was all. You just didn’t understand yet.
——————————————————
“—you don’t!” you snapped.
You were pacing again.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Like you were trying to wear a path into the floor. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“I do,” Jeongin replied evenly, sitting at the edge of the bed, watching you.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
You shook your head, frustrated, your hands dragging through your hair.
“No, you don’t—because if you did, you wouldn’t—” you cut yourself off, breath hitching.
Jeongin stood. You stepped back.
Once. Twice. Again.
Each step you took away from him carved something sharp into his chest.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
You laughed. A broken, disbelieving sound.
“You already do.”
That…That wasn’t true.
His expression hardened slightly. He kept walking, slow and self assured, until your back hit the wall — trapped.
“Don’t say things like that,” he murmured.
His voice softened again, like it always did when you got like this.
“You don’t love me,” you said, your voice cracking despite the force behind it. “You love that I’m here. That I’m yours. That you can control—”
“No,” he cut in quietly.
You froze.
“I love you.”
Simple.
Obvious.
True.
His hand came up, cupping your face.
“I take care of you,” he continued. “I keep you safe.”
Your eyes shimmered, but you didn’t look away.“That’s what love is.”
You shook your head weakly. “That’s not—”
“You’re scared,” he said, firmer now. “That’s all this is.”
His thumb brushed along your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realised had fallen.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t mean the things you’re saying.”
Your hands pressed lightly against his chest.
Not pushing.
Just… there.
“I do,” you whispered.
He pressed another kiss to your nose, then cheek, then just shy of your mouth, each lasting longer than the one before.
Jeongin’s presence swallowed yours whole. “Then tell me to stop—” He sunk to his knees, “—if you hate me that much.”
Your breath hitched as he pushed up your t-shirt, kissing the bare skin there.
Your hands curled into his hair instead, you had done nothing but stare futility.
He undid the zipper of your jeans with his teeth, hands keeping a bruising grip on your hips to keep you in place.
You bit the back of your free hand, trying to stifle a whimper.
Jeongin’s expression softened instantly.
There it was.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“…I know.”
“Tell me.”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
And gave him what he needed.
“…I love you, hyung.”
——————————————————
He comes down the stairs.
You’re in the kitchen, sat at the counter, staring blankly at the marble.
You’re wearing his clothes, in his kitchen, eating the food he made, right where you belonged
Jeongin smiles faintly.
He walks over, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Morning, doll.”
You shifted slightly, just to get away from his hold
Yet you remained there, still within reach.
“Don’t be like that,” he says lightly.
You try to move again.
This time, he caught your chin in a firm grip “Y/n.”
You hesitate before looking at him.
“There we go, good job.” he murmurers.
He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, grounding you back with devastating soft familiarity.
“Did I scare you?”
You nodded. Always honest with him.
Jeongin’s expression melted instantly.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“…I know.”
His thumb traced along your jaw, slow and soothing.
“Tell me.”
You looked away for a second, then back.
“…I love you, hyung.”
That was all he needed.
Later, you were curled into him on the sofa, tucked neatly against his side as he scrolled through movies, one arm wrapped securely around you. Holding you in place, keeping you warm, keeping you safe.
You didn’t try to move, didn’t try to leave.
Your breathing eventually evened out against his chest.
Jeongin glanced down at you, a satisfied, smug expression settling into his face.
See?
Everything was fine. You just needed time. Time to understand.
His grip tightened slightly, almost unconsciously, as his chin rested against the top of your head.
omg yes🥰🥰😍😍 would give up on a lot of things to cup his face #needthat
NO SHUT UP HE DOESN'T HE'S JUST. USING DIFFERENT METHODS. LEAVE HIM ALONE😾 i should be the one he's with, i'd not treat him like that, just saying
oh god. oh god oh god oh god oh god. i had to look away for like five seconds because i got too flustered and then i came back and looked away and back at my phone like two times
anyways this was amazing idk why you were so scared of posting this because this is officially on my top 3 fics ever written by you (this is not going to steal the yeni fluff fic's crown...) and i can assure you i felt a lot of things reading this ☺ including rage... DUDE. YOU HAVE THIS MAN
THIS MAN WITH YOU. AND YOU STEP AWAY BECAUSE WHAT HE KILLED SOMEONE?? like that's just a random asshole🥱🥱 im siding with jeongin #always ; and omg the cuddles in the end?? 🤗🤗 just the end in general tbh. yes, eating his food in his clothes in his house🗣️🗣️🗣️ #whatadream.
authors note: back with criminal/yan!jeongin yay everyone should read all of @wonroha ‘s works for dragging me out the trenches fr…i’m not a fan of this but yk
summary: jeongin struggles to understand your fear, convincing himself it's just confusion. he just loves you so much
warnings: implied murder (nobody important), manipulation, almost blowjob, barely edited and i’ve also never written anything like someone getting blown before so…
wc: 1,168
You looked at him, scared. Jeongin noticed it immediately, of course he did, he just didn’t understand it.
Was it him? Or what he had done?
…No, it couldn’t be him.
Still, you stepped forward, slowly, carefully like you were approaching something that might snap.
“It’s…it’s okay,” you said, voice unsteady. “We can just…clean this up.”
Glass cracked beneath your feet with every step, sharp sounds echoing through the empty alleyway. Somewhere behind him, something wet dripped steadily onto concrete.
Jeongin stayed hunched over, his hands covering his face.
You reached for him anyway, your fingers trembled, he noticed that, but you still pulled his hands away, still forced yourself to look at him. The second your skin touched his, you swallowed hard.
“…are you hurt?” you asked.
He shook his head. Of course he wasn’t.
You cupped his face anyway, always so gentle with him.
You tilted his head down, pressing your forehead against his, your nose brushing his like it always did, like this was something soft, something safe.
“Why—” you started.
Then stopped, eyes flickering past him.
Jeongin followed the movement.
Ah.
That.
“…let’s just clean up and go home,” you finished quietly.
Your voice sounded wrong, you were forcing it.
Jeongin didn’t like that.
So he fixed it.
He stood, grabbed the body, and dragged it away without hesitation. It was heavy, but that didn’t matter. None of it did. Not when it meant you wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.
Not when it meant you’d stop looking like that.
He shoved it into the trunk.
Closed it.
The car ride was quiet, too quiet.
Jeongin’s hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles white. He could feel your presence beside him—small, stiff, and distant.
He didn’t like that either.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
A pause.
“…I know.” Your voice sounded smaller than before.
That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how you were supposed to sound.
“Tell me,” he said.
Silence.
He glanced at you briefly. You were staring straight ahead, unmoving.
“…I love you, hyung.”
There it was.
Better.
——————————————————
Jeongin stared at his reflection.
Jaw tight, Eyes dull.
The memory clung to him longer than it should have.
He spat into the sink, watching red swirl faintly against white foam of toothpaste before disappearing down the drain. He brushed harder. Again and again.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He didn’t understand. That man had hurt you.
Jeongin had seen it. Heard it. The way your voice used to shrink, the way you’d flinch at things that shouldn’t make you flinch.
Jeongin had fixed it, he had protected you.
So why, why did you still look afraid? Why did you still hesitate? Why did you sound like that?
His grip tightened on the sink.
You didn’t understand. That was all. You just didn’t understand yet.
——————————————————
“—you don’t!” you snapped.
You were pacing again.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Like you were trying to wear a path into the floor. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“I do,” Jeongin replied evenly, sitting at the edge of the bed, watching you.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
You shook your head, frustrated, your hands dragging through your hair.
“No, you don’t—because if you did, you wouldn’t—” you cut yourself off, breath hitching.
Jeongin stood. You stepped back.
Once. Twice. Again.
Each step you took away from him carved something sharp into his chest.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
You laughed. A broken, disbelieving sound.
“You already do.”
That…That wasn’t true.
His expression hardened slightly. He kept walking, slow and self assured, until your back hit the wall — trapped.
“Don’t say things like that,” he murmured.
His voice softened again, like it always did when you got like this.
“You don’t love me,” you said, your voice cracking despite the force behind it. “You love that I’m here. That I’m yours. That you can control—”
“No,” he cut in quietly.
You froze.
“I love you.”
Simple.
Obvious.
True.
His hand came up, cupping your face.
“I take care of you,” he continued. “I keep you safe.”
Your eyes shimmered, but you didn’t look away.“That’s what love is.”
You shook your head weakly. “That’s not—”
“You’re scared,” he said, firmer now. “That’s all this is.”
His thumb brushed along your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realised had fallen.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You don’t mean the things you’re saying.”
Your hands pressed lightly against his chest.
Not pushing.
Just… there.
“I do,” you whispered.
He pressed another kiss to your nose, then cheek, then just shy of your mouth, each lasting longer than the one before.
Jeongin’s presence swallowed yours whole. “Then tell me to stop—” He sunk to his knees, “—if you hate me that much.”
Your breath hitched as he pushed up your t-shirt, kissing the bare skin there.
Your hands curled into his hair instead, you had done nothing but stare futility.
He undid the zipper of your jeans with his teeth, hands keeping a bruising grip on your hips to keep you in place.
You bit the back of your free hand, trying to stifle a whimper.
Jeongin’s expression softened instantly.
There it was.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“…I know.”
“Tell me.”
You squeezed your eyes shut.
And gave him what he needed.
“…I love you, hyung.”
——————————————————
He comes down the stairs.
You’re in the kitchen, sat at the counter, staring blankly at the marble.
You’re wearing his clothes, in his kitchen, eating the food he made, right where you belonged
Jeongin smiles faintly.
He walks over, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Morning, doll.”
You shifted slightly, just to get away from his hold
Yet you remained there, still within reach.
“Don’t be like that,” he says lightly.
You try to move again.
This time, he caught your chin in a firm grip “Y/n.”
You hesitate before looking at him.
“There we go, good job.” he murmurers.
He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, grounding you back with devastating soft familiarity.
“Did I scare you?”
You nodded. Always honest with him.
Jeongin’s expression melted instantly.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“…I know.”
His thumb traced along your jaw, slow and soothing.
“Tell me.”
You looked away for a second, then back.
“…I love you, hyung.”
That was all he needed.
Later, you were curled into him on the sofa, tucked neatly against his side as he scrolled through movies, one arm wrapped securely around you. Holding you in place, keeping you warm, keeping you safe.
You didn’t try to move, didn’t try to leave.
Your breathing eventually evened out against his chest.
Jeongin glanced down at you, a satisfied, smug expression settling into his face.
See?
Everything was fine. You just needed time. Time to understand.
His grip tightened slightly, almost unconsciously, as his chin rested against the top of your head.
the concept of all the builder people men being shocked by the other previous builder people men’s work that came to fix the ceiling and complaining abt the other builder people men
fucking crying the builder man dudes are here and one of them is literally as tall as the ceiling ok no i’m exaggerating but like christ almighty is he tall anyways the main purpose of me typing this is to look busy till my sister comes down and i can go back to sleep
fucking crying the builder man dudes are here and one of them is literally as tall as the ceiling ok no i’m exaggerating but like christ almighty is he tall anyways the main purpose of me typing this is to look busy till my sister comes down and i can go back to sleep
authors note: little shitty but it’s was pmo so i rushed and finished it 😓 [m.list]
summary: in which you recruit a killer to catch a killer
story warnings: violence, murder mentions (non-graphic), strangulation, organ theft(non-graphic), firearms, manipulation, morally gray behavior, criminal psychology themes (not really)
wc: 870
Yang Jeongin didn’t enjoy much in life. But the thought of putting a bullet between your eyes? That he’d been savoring for months.
Unfortunately for him, you’d caught him first.
Now he’s in a concrete box, courtesy of you, Detective Y/N L/N, and somehow you’ve come crawling back to ask for his help. Of all the absurd things he’d seen, this one took first place.
“Mr. Yang, please—”
“I heard you the first time, detective.” His tone is all mockery, the title dripping like a bloodied knife. “You don’t need my help. You want it. And I can’t think of a single reason why I should care.”
You lean forward, weary. “I’ll reduce your charges.”
That earns you his attention, a flash of curiosity in sharp, foxlike eyes. “Oh? That’s not very by the book, little detective.”
“Sometimes,” you say, voice clipped, “you have to open another book.”
He smiles faintly. “Fine. Tell me, then. What case could possibly break a mind like yours?”
You drop the file between you. “A string of murders. One every week for a month. Each victim, stab wound to the heart, ruptured aorta. Both kidneys missing.”
Jeongin flips through the photos. Doesn’t flinch. “What do I get out of it?”
“I told you—”
“Yes, yes. Reduced charges.” He closes the file with a snap. “I want something better. Something your higher ups can’t give me. Something only you can.”
“…Like what?”
He smirks, slow and deliberate. “We’ll see.”
“…So you’ll help?”
“Begrudgingly.”
Jeongin loved quiet. The kind of quiet that hummed right before a scream.
It wasn’t his fault that girl in sixth grade didn’t stop talking about everything that this sick and twisted society deemed wrong about him. Not his fault she’d eaten the pastries he’d brought. Not his fault they didn’t find her EpiPen, the one in his pocket. Nobody asked him. Nobody had ever paid attention to Yang Jeongin.
Until you.
You’d questioned him once, a suspect in a bar killing. No proof. No reason to hold him. And yet you kept following, like a stray that wouldn’t leave his heels. You didn’t scare him; you fascinated him. The way you hid behind humor, the way your voice went quiet when you thought no one was listening.
Then you found the warehouse. Found him. Found the body. And that was that.
Now, here you are again — desperate enough to unlock the cage.
The case file is simple: Ted Lamos. Former heart surgeon. Fired for stealing opioids, acquitted by a slick lawyer. The victims? Family members of people who reported him. Every one gutted the same way.
“Why me?” Jeongin asks.
You meet his eyes. “Because you know him.”
He stills. Thinking of that no good traitor. Just for a moment. Then the smile returns. “All right, little detective. What’s the plan?”
The week that follows is a blur of shadows and stakeouts. Lamos’s alibi, therapy appointments, collapses under surveillance footage and bribes. The cooler in his garage smells like bleach and rot. You build the case; Jeongin watches you work, amused and something else, something darker.
One night, in the unmarked car, you hand him a gun.
“If you’re gonna kill me,” you mutter, “at least wait until we catch this dick, please.”
He doesn’t answer. Just smiles.
And that’s somehow worse.
You split up inside the warehouse. You take the left hall, he takes the right. Your steps are careful. Controlled.
Then, hands, crushing your throat, the world tilting sideways. Lamos’s face, red and furious, blots out the light. The gun slips from your fingers.
You’re clawing, gasping, until two shots rip through the air.
The weight disappears.
Jeongin’s there, gun raised, smoke curling from the barrel. He looks at you, really looks, and for a heartbeat, he almost seems human.
“Don’t you fucking die,” he growls. “If anyone’s going to take you out, it’ll be me.”
Lamos survives. Barely. He’s cuffed, read his rights, dragged into custody under fluorescent light.
Your report is clean…almost. You keep Jeongin’s name buried in the fine print, enough to buy him leniency without absolution. You tell the DA he cooperated. That he saved your life.
When he’s brought in for debrief, he watches you over the table, eyes unreadable.
“You promised me something special,” he says.
You meet his gaze. “You got it. You’re alive.”
He huffs a laugh, low, dangerous, real. “Alive’s a start.”
Three months later, you visit him in the holding facility. His sentence was reduced to indefinite psychiatric observation, a bureaucratic miracle only you could’ve pulled.
He’s quieter now. The edge is still there, but dulled, like a knife that’s been swung to many times.
“You came,” he says simply.
“You asked.”
He studies you a long time, then leans forward, elbows on the table. “You ever wonder what makes someone cross that line, detective?”
“Every day.”
“Maybe you’re closer than you think.”
You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The silence between you says everything.
When you leave, Jeongin watches you go, a half-smile curling at the corner of his mouth. Not victory. Not threat. Just knowing.
And outside, the air feels different, colder, sharper. You tell yourself you saved a life. You just don’t say whose.
[DIVIDERS BY @dividers-are-us !!]
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