liz @damiamor - Tumblr Blog

Jun 10, 2025

end game

genre: strickland!au | exes! outlaw!seonghwa x nurse!fem!reader

length: 10,584 words

summary: your injured ex-boyfriend breaks into your apartment in search of your healing touch, unintentionally dragging you back into the life you thought you’d left behind.

content warnings: angst with a happy ending, smut mdni, descriptions of violence/gore/blood, guns, probably botched medical terms but i tried my best, no use of y/n.

notes: this was way longer than i originally thought it was going to be, but here we are! this also took wayyy too long to write and has actually been sitting in my google docs for months. but anyways! i’m working on my reputation era of the taylor’s version masterlist (because if she doesn’t want to give us reputation, guess i gotta do it myself). likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

ateez masterlist | taylor’s version masterlist

nsfw warnings: oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, gentle/makeup sex

“breaking news: city hall is facing another round of vandalism after the black pirates set fire to the front steps. this is the gang’s third successful attempt at defacing government, following a fire at the municipal hall and staging a riot outside the courthouse. despite three months of investigation, the police still have not been able to locate and capture the group’s leaders known as-”

you turned off the television before the newscaster could continue. you weren’t sure how many more images of your city driven to chaos and flames you could take, or how many more mentions of their name you could stomach.

for as long as you’d lived in strickland, you remembered hearing about rebellion. in a society of suppression and fear, resistance brewed. there was always talk of a coup, but no one ever dared to try until the black pirates came. the leaders of the movement plundered the rich and stood atop the highest buildings to protest, advocating for control from the evil central government. they’d avoided arrest for years and served as the the figureheads for the rebellion, clad in black leather and masked so the world would never know their true identities lest their loved ones face a desolate end. some people preferred them to remain nameless; they grouped them in with the rest of the black pirates, afraid that putting a name to their devious acts would only give them more power. but the rest of the world spoke the name that set dread into the government’s bones: ateez.

it had gotten worse lately. infrequent riots became a weekly occurrence, and crime was at an all-time high. sector one was littered with flyers, and you heard more occurrences of music blaring through every alley to incite crowds and draw them in. the streets had more patrols now than ever before, controlled by iron-clad police with batons and bulletproof armour. you watched innocent civilians who tried to become freedom fighters be wheeled into the trauma centre you worked in with broken bones, bleeding from various wounds while they whispered about the new world they were fighting for. every day you felt another life leave your skilled hands, you feared it would never get better.

“come on, karuma. let’s go to bed.”

you sighed and stood up from the couch, your empty glass of wine in hand. the black cat curled up by your feet suddenly stretched and came to life, hopping off of the couch and padding into the kitchen on soft, silent paws. you weren’t far behind.

your apartment drifted into silence as you washed out your glass. the sirens roared outside felt like a soothing lullaby, willing you to leave your dishes behind and fall upon the soft, silk sheets of your bed, but you resisted the call.

a year ago, it wouldn’t have been like this. your home had always been filled with so much light and laughter. it was always spun into chaos, somehow becoming the social hub for your friends—friends you hadn’t seen since the day everything fell apart, since the government debut their special guardians in an attempt to deal with the black pirates. since you broke up with him.

karuma swiped her paw at your arm. your hands had gone still, running beneath lukewarm water as your mind spun with the memories your home used to share. you blinked a few times, then shut off the water and dried your hands on the towel.

“sorry,” you apologised, scratching behind the feline’s ears. karuma immediately careened into your touch, nuzzling her head into your hand.

you took the kitten in your arms, and she curled her head into the crook of your neck as you gently stroked her furred back. when you turned off the kitchen light, your apartment was plunged into darkness, save for the little plug-in light in the hallway, giving you just enough light to begin your trek to your bedroom.

as you turned on the lamp next to your bed, karuma jumped out of your arms in favour of curling up on your sheets, comfortably resting against the second pillow on the opposite nearest of the bed—the side closest to the door, the side you never slept on. he never wanted you to be too close to danger if anyone dared to break in.

with a sad smile, you shook your head as the cat stretched out to occupy as much space on the bed as possible.

“spoiled brat,” you teased karuma, who mewled pathetically at the comment as though she understood, her yellow eyes wide and innocent.

you would’ve crawled into the bed beside her had your phone not buzzed on your bedside table, blaring loudly though the discordant symphony of sirens with the government notification. karuma jumped up from the bed, her tail raised high, and you gently scratched behind her ears to calm her as you silenced your phone.

public safety alert: fugitives have been spotted in your area. stay in your homes.

crash!

there was a shatter from the living room, too noisy to be a simple vase falling. every nerve in your body burned in fear as you froze, karuma’s meows becoming piercingly loud. you stared at your open bedroom door like you were expecting someone to breach the doorway.

if it was the government sending their guardians, there would have been more chaos. you would’ve heard dozens of footsteps and low chatter. the more likely scenario was that someone was trying to break into your home, making you the next victim of the crime riddling strickland.

but you lived on the third fucking floor.

a few thundering footsteps and a thud made you snap out of your trance. you knew how to protect yourself—you’d been taught what to do if something like this ever happened. it repeated in your head like a mantra. his voice, though distant, was still in your head.

“if anyone ever tries to come in, don’t fight them. go to the closet. behind the shelf. push it, it’ll slide open. stay there. do not come out until i find you.”

you opened the second drawer of your bedside table. a gun stared back at you, one you’d been sworn to only use in emergencies. you remembered learning how to shoot it, the feeling of him behind you as he guided your hands towards the proper placement. gathering the weapon in your hand, you silently scooped karuma under your opposite arm and carried her to the closet, noiselessly shutting the door and trapping you both inside.

your heart thundered in your chest, the noise so deafeningly loud you could hear it in your ears. the closet was void of any light, but you knew your way around. blind hands searched for the shelf and when you found it, you pressed against the panel. a soft click! let you know that it opened to your will, and you silently slipped inside, dragging karuma with you.

the gun felt silly in your hand as you pulled the panel closed. the cramped space hardly fit you both, but you let the kitten curl up in your lap, silently shushing her with careful strokes down her back. you shakily held the weapon in your other hand, making sure the safety was off. you’d never shot anyone before, but there was a first time for everything.

one breath. two breaths. if this was how you died, you’d be a little disappointed; you thought it would’ve been a grander display.

he’ll come and get me, you thought to yourself. but the harsh reality was that he wasn’t here anymore.

the panel slid open, and in a panic, you fired the gun. karuma yeowled and jumped off your lap, sprinting out the closet despite the figure looming over the shelves.

“jesus, sweetheart. we gotta work on your aim.”

the string to the overhead light was pulled, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust. when you finally saw the man standing in front of you without black spots dotting your vision, your eyes went wide.

“seonghwa?”

only his face was lit in a golden glow from the light. his black hair was slicked back, though a few sweaty strands managed to fall across his forehead. sculpted jawline and sharp cheekbones were framed by deep-set eyes—eyes that have seen too much of the city’s worst, of experiencing the world’s cruelty. his skin was shade-kissed by the sun from long rides on his bike. usually, you saw him with a sleek, red-and-black leather jacket that hugged his lean frame, but it must have been tossed somewhere in the apartment. he was clutching his side, his black tank-top sticking to his skin.

he reached a hand out, grimacing at the movement. “give me the gun.”

you clutched the weapon tighter, flinching back from his upwards palm. you should’ve been thrilled that it was him in your apartment and not some stranger, but your mind raced. he shouldn’t be here.

seonghwa’s stare seemed to soften, eyes examining your expression as though reading your fear. “baby, it’s just me,” he cooed. “now, give me the gun. you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

he didn’t wait for you to comply. a gentle hand slowly gripped yours, pulling the gun out of your grasp. you didn’t resist him, too busy watching him hide his pain through a carefully-masked visual. he never wanted you to worry about him, to fear for his life despite everything he did; and yet, even now, your were tempted to care.

“you’re hurt,” you said bluntly. you crawled out of your hiding spot, swatting away seonghwa’s hand when he offered to help you.

once you were settled on your feet, rather than spare his face a second glance, you stepped forward, your fingers reached towards his hand clutching his side, and he instinctively flinched back; but the longer your hand lingered in the air, the more relaxed he became, until finally, he let your fingertips brush his top.

the gnarly wound had clearly been from a bullet. it had burn across his side, grazing his skin deep enough to tear flesh. he was lucky the impact seemed to have cauterised the wound enough to keep it from bleeding uncontrollably, but coagulated blood still covered the wound. you were impressed he hadn’t passed out on the way here. your mind raced with memories of him limping home, of you coming back to the apartment still dressed in your bloodied scrubs and nursing him back to health. you thought your days of attending to his bedside were over.

“i didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted quietly. you looked up to find him staring at you, his eyes filled with unspoken worries.

you removed your hand and pushed past him to exit the closet. “go sit on the bed.”

he called your name, trying to reach out for your wrist, but it only proved too painful. “wait—”

“seonghwa, sit your ass down on the bed. i’m getting the kit.”

you didn’t hear an argument after that. instead, seonghwa sulked out of the closet and sat down on the end of the bed while you grabbed the medical kit from beneath your bathroom sink. when you and seonghwa were together, it saw much more use. you’d pull it out to stitch up his latest bullet wound, or you’d have one of his friends sprawled out half-dead on your dining room table (you vividly remembered patching up wooyoung one night after he’d been shot through the thigh). now, the kit was barely holding itself together, and it was far emptier than you remembered.

snagging a towel from your bathroom, you silently walked back to your bedroom. seonghwa had certainly made himself comfortable there, sitting with karuma curled on his lap. the cat purred with delight as he scratched behind her ear, a soft grin on his lips.

“she misses you,” you said as you walked back into the room. karuma, who usually perked her ears up whenever you arrived, didn’t budge from seonghwa’s lap. you’d never seen her so content with someone who should have been a stranger.

who would have been if he hadn’t come back tonight.

“i remember when i brought her home,” seonghwa said quietly, like he was afraid of waking up the resting cat. “fresh out of a gutter. you were so scared i was hurt that you didn’t blink twice about bringing a kitten into the house.”

you would never forget that day either. the black pirates had raided the courthouse, freeing those arrested for expressing themselves through song and dance. when the central government sent soldiers to subdue them, chaos ensued. there were more innocents that died than actual criminals. you’d spent the entire day so worried seonghwa had been amongst the dead or injured that you cried when he crawled through your window, and you didn’t notice the trembling creature beneath his jacket. too overwhelmed by emotion, you didn’t bat an eye when he asked if you could keep the kitten ‘just for a few days’ until he could safely take her to the animal shelter.

over a year later, karuma was still there, and she’d stayed with you even after seonghwa left. but he was always her favourite.

you blinked away your blurry vision, tears pricking your eyes. you didn’t want him to see you cry—he didn’t deserve your tears.

“lay down.” you laid out the towel, the only precaution that he wouldn’t get blood on your sheets. “and take your shirt off.”

seonghwa looked up at you, but you were too busy opening the kit and counting your supplies to notice the sad look in his eyes. he complied with your order, gently moving karuma off his lap and sliding onto the towel. he discarded his bloodied tank top on the floor before laying back, wincing at the sudden stretch.

you kept your gaze clinical as you glanced back at seonghwa under the ruse that you were inspecting his wound. in reality, your eyes dipped down his chest. he’d bulked up a little since you last saw him, his muscles becoming toned and shaped where they were once slender and lean. you remembered the nights you would spend tracing the scars littering his torso, some stitched by you and others from before your time. your eyes traced the beads of sweat there now, likely from his escape to your apartment and the no-doubt painful climb up your fire escape.

to distract yourself, you cleared your throat and snapped your gloves against your wrist. you doused the gauze in your hand with saline before holding the pad against his side. “this is gonna hurt.”

“yeah, i remember.” seonghwa gritted his teeth as you flushed out any dirt remaining in the wound. all he could do was look at you, but you kept your gaze detached.

this felt too familiar, too normal. even the sirens ringing outside reminded you of the past, of being cooped up in the apartment and soothing seonghwa with sterile hands and gentle kisses. he always lulled your worried brow with whispered promises of fighting for a better tomorrow, a dream of liberation hongjoong had planted in their heads. at one point, you believed it, too; now, it was too good to be true.

you grabbed an antiseptic wipe to clean the skin around the wound. “what the fuck happened out there?”

“it’s those fucking guardians,” he breathed out as you tossed the wipe aside and covered his side with gauze. you tore the medical tape with your teeth, sticking the edges to his skin.

“hongjoong thought if we disappeared into the chaos of the crowds trying to escape, they wouldn’t be able to find us. but they just... they started shooting, like they didn’t care about all the innocent people around us.” you could hear the anger in every word. his hand balled into a fist at his side. “i couldn’t just stand there and let that happen.”

“you’re not faster than a bullet,” you scolded him. after checking the wound’s dressing one last time, you snapped off your gloves. “one of these days, you’re gonna get shot, and i’m not gonna be able to stitch you back up.”

seonghwa tried to laugh, but the sudden pain to his side made him wince instead. “i thought i was your favourite patient,” he teased as he slowly sat up.

you rolled your eyes. “don’t push it.”

packing up your medical kit, you set aside the dirty supplies and tossed them in your bedroom trash before taking the box back to the bathroom. the towel, shockingly spared of most of seonghwa’s blood, was discarded in your washing machine, along with his tank top. you walked back to your bedroom, rummaging around one of your drawers. you were sure seonghwa had left some of his things here—clothes you should have thrown out or given back months ago, but you couldn’t part with them.

“here.” you walked back to your bed with a simple black t-shirt, handing it to seonghwa. he didn’t question why you still had any of his things. he knew you didn’t have the heart to throw them out. that would mean forgetting him.

“thanks.” he pulled the shirt over his head. even the smallest movement made his nerves twitch with pain.

you frowned and instinctively moved to help him, tugging on the hem of the t-shirt. maybe if you realised how you were leaning over him now, how your face was only inches away from his when he turned his face upwards, you would have left him to suffer with the clothing.

his lips were so, so close, wind-bitten yet pink and soft and… and you were staring now, remembering how it felt when he kissed you. you always felt like you were floating on air, like the lightest touch could knock you off kilter and send you tumbling into an abyss, if only he wasn’t there to catch you. if you closed your eyes, you could still feel his lips across your skin, when he pressed delicate kisses against the hollow of your neck or nipped his teeth at the cusp of your ear.

no.

you pulled away before you could think better of it. for a moment, you caught a twinge of a pout on seonghwa’s face when he noticed how quickly you’d flinched away from him, but he was quick to steel his expression.

“seonghwa, you can’t keep doing this,” you said, standing up from your bed. “you can’t... you can’t just barge in here after a year.”

“i know-”

“what if someone saw you? do you know what they would do to me?”

“i’d never let them hurt you.”

you scoffed. “yeah, that’s what you said last time, too.”

that’s what he said the night before the guardians raided the hospital in search of the black pirates. the central government agreed that the only way they could have survived this long was if they knew someone who could tend to their injuries. when no evidence was found, they punished the hospital. they limited their supplies, arrested doctors and nurses for treason, and sent the guardians to wreak havoc until the medical facility was only a shell of its former glory.

all you could do without exposing yourself was watch helplessly while those around you suffered. the night the guardians raided through the emergency room, seonghwa nearly convinced hongjoong to set the city ablaze in protest. you told him this was all his fault, that your life was ruined because of him. looking back, you were too harsh; it was just as much your fault, too, for staying with him despite his crimes, but you were too full of anger and grief to see that.

you kicked him out, you told him that you couldn’t do it anymore. you couldn’t be the one he ran to when they needed a doctor, couldn’t risk your life or the lives of the innocent people around you for his sake. he never argued, never pleaded with you to take him back; he just accepted his fate, took his things from your place, and didn’t speak to you for an entire year.

you acted like you didn’t notice the rotation outside your apartment every night of the week as the boys took turns watching over you, protecting you. you didn’t notice how the sirens around your apartment got a little quieter, how for an entire year, the black pirates didn’t seem nearly as reckless as they had in the past. strickland's harshest critics thought they were going soft; you knew they were finally understanding how high their body count was.

“i can’t start doing this again, seonghwa,” you said quietly, sitting next to him on the bed. your gaze was on your hands firmly trapped between your thighs.

you didn’t have to look at him to see that he was hurting. his first time seeing you in a year, and you refused to look at him. all he wanted was to catch your eyes, to see you, to hear your voice. but instead of letting his anguish show, he cracked a smile.

“i wasn’t asking you to, sweetheart.”

you looked up from your hands. his smile did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. if you looked too long, you knew you would’ve done anything he asked.

“i’ll go get you some painkillers to take with you,” you said as you stood. anything to get out of the suffocating silence of the room, to stop feeling like you were the one to blame.

memories piled one on top of the other in your mind as you rummaged through your medicine cabinet. early mornings spent tangled in sheets, watching the sun crest over the city. breakfast in bed on your birthday. good morning and goodnight kisses. goodbye kisses in the living room, the ones that took your breath away. and nothing would ever make you forget the instant relief you always felt when you saw him come home from the black pirates’ latest escapade in one piece.

you shook your head as though it would make you forget. it wouldn’t, you hadn’t forgotten for the last twelve months.

“here, these should last you until-”

when you got back to your bedroom to give seonghwa the medicine you’d grabbed, he was gone. the sound of sirens echoed further away now, the lights no longer casting shadows into your apartment. it was like he’d been a ghost, with no trace left behind for you to even claim he was there except the faint scent of his cologne.

you dropped the pills on your bed, sitting back down on the edge. karuma hopped up beside you, allowing you to scratch behind her ear and run your hand down her arched spine. you didn’t know you were crying until a salty tear hit your thigh, and you quickly wiped it away.

whether you liked it or not, you did miss him. and somewhere, deep down, you knew you’d see him again soon.

“seonghwa, what the fuck?” you hissed as you opened your apartment door. you hadn’t even been home from your latest shift for more than fifteen minutes before there was frantic knocking at your door. your sweaty, grimy scrubs from work were still sticking to your skin when you opened it to find him.

“please, he’s-”

“get the fuck inside before someone sees you.”

you ushered the four into your apartment. karuma hissed at wooyoung’s feet and fled into your bedroom as the young sharpshooter ran to your window. he peeked outside, cheeks illuminated by red and blue lights. seonghwa gave yeosang’s weight to san as he helped you clear off your dining room table, only returning to his side to help lower their injured friend onto the dark oak.

“what the hell happened?” you asked, grabbing your medical kit.

“those fucking androids,” wooyoung seethed. he had his gun in his hand, the long sniper rifle still hanging from his shoulder and his travel bag heavy at his feet. “they ambushed us at the warehouse.”

“wooyoung, put down the gun and get away from the goddamn window,” you ordered as you reached yeosang on the table. “i’m not gonna have you fucking shooting at people from my living room.”

you didn’t see him grimace, nor did you see him glare at you as he slowly backed away from the window. his gun was forgotten on the couch, but it wasn’t as though he was defenceless; he still had a pistol strapped to his hip.

once he seemed to have calmed, or at least distracted himself from his anger by finally sitting down and bouncing his leg (you would have to just get a new lounge chair with how soaked in dirt and blood wooyoung was), you looked back at yeosang. he was slipping in and out of consciousness, and the only positive was that he didn’t seem to be actively bleeding. you wordlessly handed seonghwa a pair of scissors to cut off yeosang’s top, and he silently complied.

you couldn’t seem to move fast enough. you ran to wash your hands in the kitchen sink.

“i need-”

“i’ve got ‘em.” seonghwa opened the medical kit, as he had hundreds of times before. your box of gloves were sitting on top, and you quickly snapped them onto your hands.

you set aside your supplies. saline. antiseptic. gauze. medical tape.

“where are the-”

“bottom of the box.” he reached into the medical kit, grabbed the box of sutures, and set them down on the table.

maybe if his friend—your friend, too—wasn’t dying on your dining room table, you would’ve taken more time to notice how well he knew you. of course, he knew where all of your supplies were, and of course, he knew your routine. before you broke up, you’d been doing this for years, more than long enough for him to know how these kinds of situations went.

but you didn’t have time, not with yeosang bleeding out on the table.

your fingers pinched the wound to find the blood coagulating enough to stop the bleeding. without the knife still inside him, you had no way of knowing how deep it could have gone, what organs it hit. you know better, you wanted to spit at the boys, who had once listened to your incessant rants on how they needed to take better care of themselves in the field. but with everyone looking so grim, you didn’t think such a lecture had a place here.

“i told them not to take it out, but they didn’t listen,” seonghwa told you quietly. his voice was shaky, like he was scared yeosang might not make it. “i-is he going to be-”

“he’s fine. hand me the bottle of saline and the gauze,” you instructed, already holding out your hand expectantly.

seonghwa nodded and grabbed the supplies, placing them in your gloved hands. you moved with the fluidity of a professional, the clinical grace and experience of a nurse of your stature. every time you asked for something, seonghwa would hand to you. most of the time, you didn’t have to let the word leave your mouth before the next supply was in your hand.

it was nearly twenty minutes later when you were suturing the wound closed, covering the edges in an antibiotic ointment. you applied the dressing, securing the gauze with medical tape seonghwa cut for you. but yeosang was still blinking his eyes warily, his head elevated by san’s hand. the bruiser kept speaking to the getaway driver, whispering something about how he couldn’t die. you just didn’t want to be the one with his blood on your hands.

“he can stay here. he’s in no condition to travel,” you said, and while you were speaking out loud, you knew seonghwa was the only one listening.

you snapped off your gloves, discarding them in the trash and taking your supplies to the sink to be cleaned. in the silence of your kitchen, you took a moment to breathe. the moment you thought you’d finally gotten rid of this part of your past, it came crawling back, exposing you to the dangers you’d been happy to avoid for a year.

your forceps and needle holder clattered into the sink, and you watched the blood on them rinse off into the drain below. self-pity brewed in your chest, but more than that, anger boiled. of course, you’d never get to leave this life. it was selfish of you to ever think that.

“need any help?”

he was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you knew none of them were going anywhere. the four men were stuck in your apartment, at least for the night, and the others would never leave yeosang here to recover by himself.

“i told you i didn’t want this anymore,” you said, picking up the metal supplies from the sink. you hastily washed them off until they were clean in your hands once more. you’d soak them in solution later, but for now, you set them aside on a clean towel.

“i know.” his presence was behind you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know he was hovering uselessly. he always did that whenever he was trying to apologise, always seconds away from wrapping his arms around your waist. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t once find his touch comforting, and some small part of you craved it now, too.

“i’m sorry.”

you scoffed and turned around. if you weren’t so angry, so worried over yeosang, you would’ve noticed the barely-concealed furrow of his brow, the frown on his lips. sweat clinging to his hair.

“yeah, you’re always sorry,” you muttered. “you guys can’t just keep showing up on death’s door asking me to save you. they’re going to find out where you keep running off to.”

“no, they won’t.”

seonghwa shook his head and stook a step forward. his hand slowly raised, instinctively falling upon your jaw. tender, calloused fingers traced your jaw until his thumb rested on your chin. every instinct screamed to pull away, that finding yourself in such a compromising position would only start the repeated cycle of misery and heartbreak you’d just recovered from.

his voice was a whisper. “i’d never let them hurt you.”

i know, you thought, but you’d never say it out loud.

for a moment, the world stood still. you couldn’t hear the sirens outside or the water running in the sink. it was just you and seonghwa, in your kitchen like old times. in your memories, he’d always gently swayed you, soothing your fears with gentle kisses. he was close enough now that he could do the same, and for a moment, you almost let him.

you would have if san hadn’t walked in.

“do you have an air mattress we could borrow?”

you nearly jolted away from seonghwa, your spine stiffening as you turned your face from his hand. kind eyes met san’s weary gaze. he managed a smile, only for you, to hide how exhausted he really was.

“yeah, let me go grab it,” you said. “i only have the one, so someone’s gonna have to take the couch.”

“we’ll make it work.”

you nodded and left the kitchen. the apartment plunged into silence again, with only the echos of sirens heard getting further and further away.

seonghwa stared at the spot where you’d once stood, hand lingering in the air. his fingers curled into a fist as though angry at himself, and he gritted his teeth only briefly before leaning back against the counter. his eyes met san’s, and the man’s expression had changed from the tender, youthful glow that had addressed you. the bruiser’s eyebrows were firm, eyes set in a disapproving glare.

they’d all seen how messily this ended once before. and while seonghwa knew san was right in his silent plea to stay away, he couldn’t bring himself to listen.

“do you have the charts for the patient in room 801 ?” you asked one of the other nurses at the desk. a clipboard was blindly handed to you, and when you leaned back against the wall, you nearly collapsed from the day’s exhaustion.

it’d been nearly a week since yeosang had been brought to your apartment with his stab wound. when you woke up the next morning, everyone was gone, with only a hastily-written note stuck to your fridge in san’s handwriting thanking you for your help. wooyoung was the only one to text you and apologise for barging in, and he updated you on yeosang’s condition a few days later. you never heard from seonghwa.

maybe that was for the best. after your near-moment of weakness in the kitchen, you didn’t want to see or hear from him. you’d broken up for a reason, and you’d be a fool to go crawling back into his arms at first glance.

“you have a patient waiting for you in room 43.” one of the other nurses, a fresh-from-university young woman named tae, sat down a clipboard on the desk and hurried to your side. she’d always been attached to you by the hip, and you became her mentor of sorts while she got her footing in the hospital.

you furrowed your brows. “i don’t have any other patients.”

tae shrugged her shoulders. “just relaying the message. said he was your boyfriend or something.”

you weren’t sure whether your body tensed from panic or anger, but your skin paled at her words. the clipboard in your hands clattered on the ground, and your sneakers squealed against the floor as you raced down the hall.

the worst thoughts ran through your mind. he’d finally gone too far, had tried to do a mission with the boys and gotten himself seriously injured. was he dying? he was, wasn’t he? the boys had left him behind—god, you’d give hongjoong a piece of your mind whenever you saw him next, even if you had to drive to find him yourself.

you threw the door open, expecting to find the worst inside. but there was no chatter of doctors, no gaggle of nurses hovering around a patient. you pulled back the curtain, only to see seonghwa sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, blood trickling down the side of his face from a cut just under his eyebrow.

alive. he was alive.

when seonghwa noticed you, he stood up from the bed, eyes wide as he looked at your panicked expression. but the worry morphed into anger, your jaw tensing and your hands balling into fists at your side as you quickly approached the opposite side of the bed.

“wait, i can explain-”

his head snapped to the side when your hand made contact with his cheek. he didn’t make a sound, his jaw clenching as he slowly turned his face back to you. you wished he would have said something, would have done anything except look at you with eyes that let you know he knew he deserved it.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you made sure the door closed on the other side of the room before returning to the bed. there was a fury burning in your eyes, replacing your previous panic. at least he was alive enough for you to yell at him. “are you trying to get caught?!”

“i wasn’t followed, i swear!” he insisted, but he, too, was raising his voice. anyone in the hall would know they were inside.

“but you can’t know that for sure!” you yelled. but in contrast to your words, you reached for the gloves on the wall and pulled them over your hands. you dragged the small cart by the door over to the bed and pushed back on seonghwa’s shoulder with one hand, effectively making him sit back down on the edge of the bed.

“this is just fucking like you,” you spat as you tilted his head back, inspecting the cut above his eye. not deep enough to cause lasting damage, but it would still need stitches. “putting everyone else in danger without a second thought.”

“stop.”

“no, seonghwa! i’m tired of it!” you wet a gauze with saline and pressed it against the wound, cleaning the side of his face. “you can’t just waltz in here where anyone can see you. you’re lucky tae came straight to me. what if she told someone else?”

“but she didn’t,” he countered.

“but she could have,” you hissed. “she’s never met you before. she’s young and naive, but you’re lucky she trusts me.”

seonghwa winced as you cleaned off the wound, but there was no warmth in your gaze. there didn’t seem to be any tenderness in your touch either as you pierced his skin with a needle, suturing the wound beneath his brow and knotting the end.

you retreated back to your supply cart, tossing off your gloves and pressing your palms into your eyes. don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, you repeated to yourself like a mantra, because you swore you wouldn’t ever shed any more tears over seonghwa. but emotions clawed up your throat, begging to be felt and expressed. you nearly choked on a sob.

“i thought you were dead.”

the sound of shuffling filled your ears, of seonghwa getting off the bed. you didn’t see the way his face twitched into sorrow, but there was no time wasted as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. soothing hands rubbed your back as you let our another cry, your hands moving to clutch the zipper of his leather jacket.

“i’m okay,” he whispered, lips nearly brushing against your ear. “i’m okay, i promise.”

“but you’re not okay, seonghwa.”

you pulled your head up from his chest, but you didn’t dare back away from his arms. whether you wanted to admit it or not, this was what you’d been craving, what you’d missed most this past year—because as much as you hated it, there was no safer place than his arms.

“this was why we broke up,” you said sadly, voice hoarse and tear-filled. “because you keep pulling shit like this. you keep throwing yourself into danger, keep getting yourself hurt, because you think it’ll mean something. it doesn’t, seonghwa, and you’re not bulletproof.”

he raised his hand, thumb brushing over your jaw. he didn’t dare interrupt you, only tenderly caressing your cheek as you spoke.

“every day, i sit here and wonder when it’s gonna be you coming out of the ambulance. or wooyoung, or yunho, or any of the boys,” you sniffled, and he wiped away your tear with the pad of his thumb. “and i can never get over that feeling of dread whenever i see that you’ve all pissed someone off again, that there’s another riot or break-out. because what if you don’t come back from that?”

seonghwa let his fingers fall beneath your chin, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet his eye.

“i will always come back to you.”

he’d promised it before, but it was a promise he’d always kept. no matter what, seonghwa always came back to you, even when it seemed like the world was burning outside your window.

you saw him dip his head, the subtle shift as he brought his face closer to yours. you felt your lungs constrict as your breath got held in your throat. his lips brushed against yours, wind-bitten from the miles he drove through strickland's streets on his bike. you used to tell him he needed to keep chapstick in his jacket, and he always made sure he wore strawberry—your favourite, you liked the taste.

he was gentle with you, like he was scared you’d break beneath him. and after a year apart, you just might have. you nearly melted beneath his touch. he brought the kind of comfort only a partner could, savouring the moment as best as he could as his thumb stroked your cheek. no words needed to be shared; you could feel every ounce of emotion bleeding from his lips and into yours, reminding you of all the promises he’d made—how even now, even after so long, he wouldn’t break them.

you only jumped away from him when you heard your name being called. the door opened, and tae’s pink hair popped in. the loud noise in the hall let you know there were patients that urgently needed your attention.

“hate to ruin the moment, but the ambulance just dropped off patients from a car accident.”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you muttered. you took a reluctant step away from seonghwa, fingertips wiping over your mouth as though trying to hide what had just transpired—as if she didn’t already know. “i’ll be there in a second.”

tae nodded and left the room.

seonghwa stared down at you with love and affection, and you hated it. you hated it because you felt it through. despite your hardships, despite being apart for a year, you weren’t over him, and he knew it.

“you should go,” you whispered. “before someone finds you here.”

seonghwa nodded. “yeah,” he agreed, adjusting his jacket. “yeah, i should.”

you pushed the supply cart back to the wall, discarding the supplies you’d used in the container on the wall. your heart was racing, your skin feverish to the touch where his hands had been. you couldn’t let him leave, not again.

“seonghwa-”

but when you turned around, the window was open, and he was gone.

it rained two days later. storms had been plaguing the city since you saw seonghwa at the hospital—since you’d kissed him. you still dreamt about the butterflies in your stomach, like you were falling in love with him all over again. it was a bad path to go back down, you knew; it would only lead to more heartache.

you were curled up on your couch now, your small television playing whatever recent news the government was trying to shove down your throat, but your mind was elsewhere. you stared out your window, watching the rain hit your window. a steaming mug of tea sat between your hands. for a moment, you wondered if seonghwa would try to crawl through again, needing his next injury tended to or dragging another friend for you to patch up.

was it bad you wanted to see him again?

a knock at your door startled you. karuma jumped off the far end of the couch, loudly meowing at the new presence.

“shut up,” you seethed, setting your mug down. you scooped up the cat in your hands so she wouldn’t bolt out the door into the downpour (it wouldn’t be the first time she tried, though seonghwa was usually the one who chased after her and held the shivering cat afterwards).

you didn’t look through the peephole before opening the door, but you didn’t have to. somehow, you knew who was on the other side.

seonghwa was soaked from head-to-toe from the rain. droplets fell off his leather jacket and onto the concrete beneath his feet. your eyes scanned every inch of his body that you could see, but you didn’t find any injuries. still, anything could have been hiding beneath his rain-soaked clothes.

you stepped back, allowing him to walk inside your apartment. karuma wrestled in your grasp, and you only let the cat go once you closed and locked the front door.

“i don’t see any injuries, so-”

you didn’t have the chance to completely turn around before you felt seonghwa’s lips on yours. he was more insistent than at the hospital, gently taking your head in his hands and tilting your face up towards his.

he was impatient now, desperate to take your breath away. you fell into a familiar rhythm as your hands instinctively fell onto his shoulders. he’d bought strawberry chapstick since he kissed you last, the taste heavy on your tongue. his hands were greedy, moving from your face, tickling down your sides and gripping your hips as he backed you against the wall. calloused fingers explored your bare thighs, barely covered by your shorts, until he pulled both up around his waist.

“hwa-”

“don’t,” he gasped against your lips, breathless from the kiss. he kept your back against the wall, holding you up with your legs resting on his hips. his mouth hovered over yours now, tempted to steal another kiss. “please, don’t tell me to stop.”

your lips twitched up into a miniscule smile. “i was gonna tell you to take off your shoes before you get mud on my carpet.”

seonghwa grinned, but kicked off his shoes beneath you. he balanced you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips so he could take off his jacket and throw it across the room. his lips devoured yours again in seconds, and you ran your fingers through his hair. you didn’t feel the wall leave your back, but you could vaguely hear seonghwa carrying you down the hall to your bedroom.

he unceremoniously dropped you on your bed, your lips parting only for a moment before he crawled over you. he littered your neck with wet kisses, teeth grazing your skin. any sound he could pull from you—any delighted sigh or encouraging gasp—was music to his ears. his hands stayed on your shorts, thumbs running beneath the waistband to play with the lacy hem of your panties.

you felt another light pressure against the bed and turned your head when you felt a wet nose nuzzle against your cheek.

“karuma,” you hissed.

seonghwa, lifting his head from your neck. “relax,” he soothed, placing another quick kiss against your lips. he scooped up the cat with one hand and lifted himself up off the bed, quickly depositing the pet outside your bedroom door.

“sorry, sweetie,” he cooed at the cat, scratching behind her ears before shutting the door.

when he turned back to see you splayed out on your bed, lips kiss-bruised and cheeks flushed, he nearly let out a moan. god, he was so fucking stupid for letting you stay away for so long, for not trying harder to make you stay. he should have been there to smooth every worried brow, to wipe every frown off your perfect lips.

“you like her more than me,” you pouted teasingly.

seonghwa laughed, the sound quiet and low. as he stalked back to the bed, he gripped his shirt and pulled it over his head. it fell to the floor, where you knew it would be long forgotten for the rest of the night.

“impossible,” he whispered as he kissed your shoulder, collarbone, then your lips.

his hands pulled at the hem of your tank top, pushing it up your stomach and over the swell of your breasts. his mouth wandered across your newly-revealed skin, his hand cupping just below your breast and rolling your nipple between his nimble fingers. your hand found his hair, gently pushing through the strands until you could tug at the ends. his other hand slid down your side, gathering the thin material of your shorts and tugging it down your legs. his lips soon followed his hands, planting soft kisses across your stomach. both hands tugged down your shorts, taking your panties with them. you heard them drop to the floor, but you didn’t pay attention to where they landed.

“should’ve tried harder,” he murmured, voice muffled by your skin. he shifted so he was between your thighs. you instinctively spread your legs, and he began kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs. he ran his lips up the right, then the left, whispering against your trembling flesh between every touch. “should’ve done better, baby. i’m sorry.”

“h-hwa,” your voice was shaky now, your body desperate for pleasure.

“shh, shh, shh.” seonghwa’s voice was soft, the exact opposite of his actions as he inched closer and closer to your wet folds. “let me apologise.”

if this was his way of apologising, you hoped he fucked up more often.

you cried out as his teeth grazed your clit before he wrapped his lips around it, gently suckling on the tender bundle of nerves. pleasure consumed you as his tongue darted out, lapping over your slickened folds. your eyes flutter shut, body relaxing back against the bed as you let seonghwa devour as though he was a man starved, deprived of you. his arms were wrapped around your thighs as though he feared you would try to squirm away from him.

he was gentle, reverent, and if the muffled groan you heard was any indication, he enjoyed this just as much as you did. every sound that spilled from your lips only spurred him on more, echoed by a groan against your cunt that made you shudder. it been so long, too long, that you knew you wouldn’t last under his touch. not with how greedily he devoured you.

seonghwa pulled back for only a moment, and you barely opened your eyes enough to see him run his tongue over his lips. his hands pushed your thighs back until they were pressed against your chest, and you took the sign to grasp them in your trembling hands. he looked at you with lidded eyes heavy with lust, his pants tightening merely at the sight of you teetering on the edge of bliss.

“fuck, i missed you,” he murmered, voice rasped with desire. he didn’t give you the chance to answer before his fingers dug into your thighs and he dipped his head back down. he slid his tongue between your folds again, then traced it up and caressed your clit as gently as he could.

his fingers danced across your inner thighs before he slid a slender finger between your folds, then inserted two inside you. he curled them, and when you gasped and tugged on his hair, you could’ve sworn you heard him let out a quiet whimper. you couldn’t rock your hips, not with your thighs up against your chest, but you didn’t have to. seonghwa wasn’t leaving the heaven between your thighs anytime soon, not for all the money, riots, and rebellions in the world. now that he was here, he was home.

he savoured every mewl and gasp that left your lips as he thrust his fingers inside you, watching your face twist in pleasure as he dragged them until the pads of his fingers barely grazed your folds, then plunged them back inside you. he wasn’t trying to rush things between you, not how he usually did—how could he after so long? every touch was reverent, an act of worship. he wanted to remember every detail he could, knowing he’d never go this long without you again.

you moaned and arched your back, toes curling as your nails dug into your skin where you held your legs. as if he knew you were close, seonghwa started moving a little faster. his teeth nipped at your clit again, and you felt every muscle in your body tense. the familiar feeling of pleasure consumed you as your thighs quivered and you orgasmed over his fingers and tongue, and you lost your grip on your legs in favour of tangling your fingers in seonghwa’s hair to push his head away from your clit before the stimulation became too much.

his fingers worked you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, but he didn’t try to overwhelm you. his thumb rubbed quick, tight circles over your clit, drawing out your pleasure as he cooed down at you with words you barely heard.

“there you go, baby. that’s it,” he soothed. slowly, seonghwa slipped his fingers out from between your thighs and brought them to his lips. you nearly moaned again when you saw him lick the glistening wetness off each finger. he kept eye contact with you until, watching your flushed face as you came down from the peak of ecstasy.

the fire in his bloodstream was lit, his heart beating furiously against his ribs as he looked down at you. you looked like an angel, naked and chest heaving as you caught your breath. it was a sight he’d almost forgotten, and one he dared himself to never forsake again.

seonghwa crawled up the bed, and his lips were back on yours. you could taste yourself on his tongue through each shuddered breath, your body still buzzing in delight. even though his hands weren’t on you—they were too busy trying to frantically undo his pants—you could feel him everywhere. the memories of him rushed back in furious, flashing frames across your mind, of how he felt, how gentle he was with you, how he loved you.

he pushed his pants down just enough to free his aching cock, erect and leaking with arousal, flushed and angry with desperate desire. one hand guided your legs around his hips while the other took himself in his hand, giving his cock a few strokes before lining up with your weeping cunt. you whimpered as you felt the tip dip between your folds, the head catching on your slit.

his hand moved to grip your hip as he slowly pushed inside you. his lips left yours, his head falling into the crook of your neck. seonghwa gritted his teeth to keep silent, to only hear your sweet moans and curses of pleasure as he sunk inch after inch of his cock into your warm, welcoming heat. it had been too long, and if he tried to move any faster, he was sure he’d lose himself too quickly.

his grip on your waist was firm, even as he hilted inside you. he noticed you’d fallen silent, and your body was still.

“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, barely lifting his head from your shoulder to try and catch your gaze.

you frantically nodded. his hand moved to your cheek, his thumb running over your smooth skin to try and bring you back to earth. your body was still trying to adjust.

“i’m fine,” you reassured him. “it’s just... it’s been a while.”

seonghwa gave you a tender smile. “yeah, me too.”

neither of you needed to say it. there’d been no one else since the day you broke up. you’d tried dating, you really did, but no one made you feel like seonghwa did, and seonghwa’s heart was too hung up on you and his life was too busy to even entertain the idea of finding another girl.

his head dipped back down to your neck. he placed soft kisses there, from the underside of your jaw down to your collarbone. “can i move, baby?”

you nodded your head, and seonghwa finally moved inside you. the city lights spilled in from the window, painting the room in shades of silver and blue as he thrust into you slow but steady, his cock dragging along your walls before slowly sinking back in. your sweet sounds of pleasure spurred him on. every thrust was careful, as though you were glass that might suddenly shatter beneath him, but he wanted to savour the moment. he wanted to cherish you, his hands mapping your body in a lover’s caress, fingers trailing the valleys of your skin that he’d been without for so long.

he placed a reverent kiss to the soft swell of your breast, lips ghosting over your skin like a prayer with each deep thrust. one of your hands still rested on his head, fingers tangled in his hair, while your other gripped his side, nails lightly digging into his skin. when you finally managed to open your eyes and see him, you nearly came.

he was quiet, listening to every little sound you made, to the sound of your bodies as his hips met yours. but under the glow of the city lights, he was breathtakingly beautiful. the sweat over his forehead plastered his hair to his skin as he brought your left breast into his mouth, gently suckling on your nipple. you pushed back the sweaty strands of hair, moving it out of his eyes until you could meet his gaze filled with adoration. with love.

you loved him. after everything, you still loved him.

you tugged on his hair until his lips were back on yours, silencing your whimpers and soft moans of pleasure. his hand left your hip to rub your clit instead, drawing you closer to your orgasm. he didn’t think he’d last much longer, not with how your pussy gripped him with every thrust.

“i love you.”

the words were whispered against your lips like a prayer, his voice quiet like he almost didn’t want you to hear it. you shuddered at the sound, and tears pricked your eyes because you knew it was true. he loved you, he always loved you; fucking you now didn’t make any difference.

your breath was sparse as he rubbed his fingers over your clit a little harsher, determined to bring you to the peak of pleasure again. you were going to speak, your mouth open to reply, but a sharp moan left instead as his head fell to kiss at your neck, and he snapped his hips against yours. the sudden move made you tense beneath him, hands scrambling for a better hold of his body as though he would ever let you go.

“seonghwa—”

“i know, baby,” he whispered huskily into your ear. your hips bucked up to meet his, and he looked up from neck for a moment to see your eyes pinched closed in pleasure. it won’t be much longer, that much he knew.

your back arched, and you bit your bottom lip to try and contain your moans. you didn’t hear the soft praises that he whispered such sweet nothings against your ear. he gripped your hips tighter, surely leaving bruises as he fucked you towards your orgasm with deep, languid strokes. you heard the choked sound he made as he tried not to spill inside you before you came. all his quiet moans were reduced to whimpers as you tightened around him.

your body fell back into the mattress as you came, head hitting the pillow. the electric zing of pleasure tickled down your spine, made your toes curl and your eyes roll into the back of your head. your moans were louder now, mouth open as you cursed his name over and over again. seonghwa had a tight grip on your hip, placing a kiss against your neck before you felt him spill inside you.

his breath was heavy against your throat, and the two of you simply laid there, basking in the stillness. the sirens outside, the brief flashes of light—it meant nothing, not when you were back in his arms. not when you felt him laying on top of you, his warmth consuming you. you didn’t want him to move, you didn’t want him to leave again.

“don’t leave me.” you didn’t realise you’d said it, that you’d whispered it loud enough for him to hear. he raised his head from the crook of your neck, his lips now hovering over yours.

“i won’t,” he replied, his words ghosting over your lips. “not again. never again.”

you didn’t care if it was the truth or not. it was what you needed to hear now.

seonghwa hissed through gritted teeth as he pulled his softened cock from your dripping, and you winced a little at the loss of his warmth. he crawled up the bed beside you until he laid back against the headboard, and his arms reached out to take you will him. he pulled you up against his chest, running his fingers through your hair as you relaxed back against him.

your eyes closed, and you felt his breath by your ear. he kissed your temple, your cheek, then buried his head back into the crook of your neck. he said nothing—which seemed rare, since he used to whisper praises in your ear until you fell asleep in his arms, but the silence now was nice. you caught your breath, letting him hold you, letting him feel you back in his arms after so long apart.

“seonghwa?” you finally whispered, though you were beginning to feel tired.

“yeah, baby?” he whispered into your neck.

“i love you, too.”

the sun was what woke you up the next morning. it bled through your curtains and tempted your eyes with warm sunlight, basking your room in a golden glow. it was maybe the first true stream of daylight you’d seen in the city in years, especially with the smog that usually sat just below the tallest skyscrapers.

the ache between your thighs helped you remember everything. losing yourself in seonghwa’s arms, him being back, being here. you thought you’d regret your actions in the morning, but the longer you reminisced, the more you knew you needed him with you. the year spent without him was hell, and you couldn’t survive without him.

you stretched your arms and turned in your bed, expecting to find him laying behind you, but he wasn’t there. you realised how empty the bed was, that his side had been perfectly made, and there was no warmth there. wherever he was, he’d left early, had to have if the sheets were so cold. karuma slept there instead, curled up on his pillow where the memory of his scent remained.

he wasn’t anywhere else in the apartment, you would’ve heard him moving around through your open bedroom door. the regret you refused to feel turned into frustration, then sadness. of course, he hadn’t stayed. why would he? there was always the next mission, the next chance to stand on the tallest building and build the rebellion against the central government.

you sat up, pressing your palms into your eyes to stem any tears. you refused to cry over him. your tears were better spent on other things. but you could still feel him, feel his presence everywhere around you.

when you opened your eyes again, you grabbed yourself a shirt from the closet and a fresh pair of panties, then walked down the hallway to the rest of your apartment. you flicked on the lights for your kitchen, hoping to find something small for breakfast. maybe if you continued with your daily activities, you would forget he had been there (a lie, you knew, but it was nice to feel a little delusional every now and then).

your feet stopped when you saw what waited for you on your counter. a little box of your favourite tea bags and a small pastry box from the bakery down the street. there was a sticky note against the box of tea bags, with a hastily-written letter in seonghwa’s neat handwriting.

sorry i couldn’t be here this morning. hongjoong called an emergency meeting. i’ll be back after lunch. i hope these are still your favourite <3

you stuck the note on the counter and picked up the box of pastries: coffee cake, blueberry scones, and a cinnamon muffin. all things you loved, little snacks seonghwa used to pick up for you when he knew he’d be gone for the day, but he wanted you to know he was still thinking about you. it made butterflies kick up in your heart to know he still remembered all the little things you swore he would’ve forgotten.

because he still loved you, and you loved him.