Can you write anything with pritam parker, like going on dates with him, spending quality time??, I just re watched saiyaara, and i instantly craved those sweet moments, so maybe something like that with pritam if you can? 🥹
PRITAM PARKER HEADCANNONS
Coworker!Pritam who completely froze the first day you walked into the cyber cell tech room, watching you effortlessly patch a crashing firewall script that had him stressed out for hours.
Coworker!Pritam who exchanges panicked, wide-eyed looks with you across the room whenever Pedro Sir starts aggressively slamming his hand on a faulty printer and yelling at it like it's a cybercriminal.
Coworker!Pritam who would automatically slide his chair next to yours the second Pedro started shouting about a case, pulling up a random spreadsheet to lie that you were too busy helping him to do extra paperwork.
Crush!Pritam who would always find the most unnecessary tech issues to fix at your desk just to be near you.
Crush!Pritam who would aggressively clean out your laptop and phone storage, update your software, and hand it back with a proud, shy smile just to have an excuse to talk to you.
Crush!Pritam who completely short-circuits and forgets basic words whenever you lean in close to point something out on his monitor.
Crush!Pritam who would lose all his technical eloquence and literally forget the word for "keyboard" the exact second your hands accidentally brushed over a mouse.
Crush!Pritam whose ears would turn a bright, telltale pink under his messy hair whenever you brought him his favorite cold coffee during a long night shift.
Crush!Pritam who secretly curates highly specific, soft, late-night playlists and sends them to you with a casual, "hey, found some music to code to, thought you'd like it."
Crush!Pritam who turns bright red and buries his face in his hands whenever Pedro loudly teases him in front of the entire office about staring at you.
Crush!Pritam who would map out your daily routine in his head like a constellation, calculating the exact minute you'd walk past his desk just so he could casually look up and catch your eye.
Crush!Pritam who sat next to you in a completely dark presentation room and let his hand stay just a millimeter away from yours on the armrest, the heavy silence between you feeling louder than ever.
Crush!Pritam who nearly choked on his coffee when Pedro Sir slapped his back after a successful case and loudly said, "Oye, laptop chhod aur isko dinner pe leke ja, varna main chala jaunga teri jagah!"
Boyfriend!Pritam who confessed to you in the dim, quiet tech room after everyone left, nervously whispering that you are the only person who makes his chaotic, fast-running brain finally go quiet.
Boyfriend!Pritam who took you to a secluded beach cliffside on his scooter for your first official date, nervously sharing a single pair of earphones to listen to music in the dark.
Boyfriend!Pritam who would turn chaotic, late-night coding sessions at the office into impromptu coffee dates.
Boyfriend!Pritam who silently pulls you onto his lap when you walk into his room, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while he keeps typing with his other hand.
Boyfriend!Pritam who stubbornly keeps his left hand tangled with yours under the desk while he codes, refusing to let go even when he needs to type with his right hand.
Boyfriend!Pritam who drags you out for midnight scooter rides along the dark Goa backroads just to escape the screens and feel your arms wrapped around him.
Boyfriend!Pritam who walks straight into your apartment after a grueling 14-hour high stakes case, buries his face in the crook of your neck without a word, lets all his tech-genius defenses drop and just holds you tight to decompress.
Boyfriend!Pritam who absolutely melts when you run your fingers through his messy hair while he’s lying on your lap, his eyes slowly drifting shut even if he was trying his hardest to stay awake with you.
Boyfriend!Pritam who always pulls you closer when he’s tired, like his body just automatically calculates the shortest distance needed to get you tucked right against his chest.
Boyfriend!Pritam who treats your quiet, slow-dancing-in-the-kitchen moments like an oath to himself that no cyber threat or police chaos could ever touch.
Boyfriend!Pritam who protects your relationship like it's his only sacred, offline space in a world full of high stakes digital noise.
Boyfriend!Pritam who loves the slow-motion feel of rainy days with you, pulling the curtains shut so the two of you can just lie tangled in the sheets, listening to the downpour and tracking the rhythm of your heartbeats.
Boyfriend!Pritam who wakes up a few minutes before you do sometimes, just to look at your face in the quiet dawn light, smiling softly before pulling you back into his chest to fall asleep all over again.
Boyfriend!Pritam who has a deep, tired voice in the mornings and pulls you back into bed when you try to get up too early.
Boyfriend!Pritam who will softly trace the contours of your face in the dim light of dawn, looking at you with a heavy, quiet intensity that says you are the center of his entire universe.
Boyfriend!Pritam who doesn’t sleep well normally and has recurring nightmares, but the moment you’re tucked against his chest he finally knocks out.
Boyfriend!Pritam who keeps random little things that remind him of you — a hair tie, a note you left when you delivered him lunch, a photo in his wallet he pretends isn’t there.
Boyfriend!Pritam adores seeing you in his clothes. When your hair is messy and you’ve got nothing on but a loose plaid shirt of his, or when he buys you something and he sees you wearing it, he gets flustered and smiley.
Boyfriend!Pritam who presses slow, lazy, lingering kisses to your forehead and the temple of your head when he’s half-asleep.
Boyfriend!Pritam who nervously took you to meet his dadu for the first time, only to completely melt when his dadu immediately sidelined him to pull you into a warm hug and treat you like family.
Boyfriend!Pritam who smiles so softly watching you sit with his dadu on the porch, listening to old stories about Pritam's childhood, while dadu feeds you homemade snacks and tells you how much calmer Pritam has been since he met you.
Boyfriend!Pritam who watches you and his dadu team up against him in board games, his heart swelling so much it hurts as he intentionally lets the two of you win just to see you both celebrate.
Boyfriend!Pritam who gets incredibly flustered but quietly proud when Pedro Sir sees you two walking out of the station holding hands, and instead of yelling, Pedro just gives a knowing smirk, lowers his voice, and says, "Sambhal ke leke ja isko, aur kal time pe office aana, dono."
Boyfriend!Pritam who hooks his chin over your shoulder while you watch the sunset from his balcony, wrapping both arms around you so tightly as if he’s trying to shield you from the passage of time itself.
! NSFW content below !
Boyfriend!Pritam who is usually so soft and anxious during the day, but the second you two are alone behind closed doors, his entire demeanor shifts into something incredibly focused, intense, and grounded.
Boyfriend!Pritam whose voice drops an entire octave in the dark, murmuring praise right against your ear in a low, breathless raspy whisper that makes your whole body shiver.
Boyfriend!Pritam who loves pinning your wrists above your head with just one of his hands, using his lean strength to hold you down while he takes his time leaving dark, lingering marks along your collarbone and the curve of your neck and jaw.
Boyfriend!Pritam who loves being on top, but would melt if you took control.
Boyfriend!Pritam loves the feeling of you on top of him sitting in his lap, riding his dick, even when you reach over him to grab something.
Boyfriend!Pritam has a large dick that he’s not great at using- he’s not bad at sex, obviously but he’s too gentle sometimes likes he’s scared he’ll hurt you, until you begged him to fuck you senseless and he broke your headboard.
Boyfriend!Pritam who was so touch starved when you began dating him that it was bordering on pathetic. When you’d do so much as kiss him or brush your fingers through his hair, his brain would melt to mush and his jeans would grow uncomfortably snug.
Boyfriend!Pritam who makes the most adorable faces when he’s about to cum deep inside you, only for his cheeks to get dusted by a pale pink when you tease him later on.
Boyfriend!Pritam will sit back in between your legs and watch his cum ooze out of you, swiping up some with his slim fingers and spreading it along the inside of your thighs, will then dip his head down and eat you out, tasting the mix of both of you on his tongue and it's enough to make his eyes roll into the back of his head and get him hard enough for round two.
Boyfriend!Pritam loves just lying there afterwards, still buried inside of you, feeling your warm walls pulse around him
Boyfriend!Pritam who would prohibit you from biting your lips, hiding your moans, depriving him of those sweet sounds that make his core burn hot.
Boyfriend!Pritam who gets incredibly possessive and needy when he’s overstimulated from a long day, burying himself deep inside you and pulling you so tight against his chest that there’s absolutely no space left between you.
Boyfriend!Pritam who looks down at you with completely blown-out, dark eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he watches your expression shift, completely intoxicated by the fact that he is the one making you lose control.
Boyfriend!Pritam loves cockwarming- when you first started dating he didn’t seem to know much about sex (of course he knew the basics), but he didn’t know many positions so you left him on your laptop with pornhub opened while you went to work, when you came back he sat you on his cock and did not let you get up until both of your were whining and at your breaking points.
Boyfriend!Pritam really likes to grope you, you only allow it at home when the two of you are alone, he’ll come up behind you when you’re doing something and run his hands slowly up your torso then grab your breasts while nuzzling his face into your neck and breathing you in.
Boyfriend!Pritam who develops a massive praise kink after everything that has happened—carrying so much weight and pressure from the cyber cell cases that hearing you tell him how good he is completely unravels him.
Boyfriend!Pritam who will literally shiver when you trace his jawline in the dark and whisper, "such a good boy," his grip on your hips tightening instantly as he loses all his composure to focus entirely on pleasing you.
Boyfriend!Pritam who quietly hoards every single piece of gentle reassurance you give him, letting your soft words undo all the stress, shouting from Pedro Sir, and heavy burdens he carries until he's completely soft and safe in your arms.
Boyfriend!Pritam who will gently clean you up afterward with a warm towel, kissing your forehead and wrapping you securely in his sheets, holding you tightly to his chest while his heart rate slowly syncs back down with yours.
HOLAAA BITCHESSSSS-FIRST TIME WRITING HEADCANNONS HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTT
DID I WRITE MORE NSFW HEADCANNONS THAN HIS NORMAL HEADCANNONS?-YES I DID
AM I OVULATING?-ALSO YES (TMI IK)
PLS DO LEAVE A LIKE AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE IT XOXO
@twinblueflamee @potashii @wtafananya @whyishekinda @yearnerray @kajuuuukatliiiiii @multifandom-boss-bitch @willowsgoldenhour @gulaabjamun08 @mad-who-ra @bittermiseryy @maladaptive-anxiety @dhoodhsoda @imrankaunbsdk @writrsblu @so-arttt-deco @vexillia @ab-yaha-koi-nhi-aayega @khoonaurkhanjar @bitchy-bi-trash @diyak11 @royaldreamermonsoon @idonthavechatpateusernamed @maxpaglu @fellivra @nazmnotes @hamzakamehroomkurta @ishq-e-rehman @work-of-procrastination @tere-naal-nachna @luvvkk @sramgellar2005 @giantfirefly @indigo-pdf @kamalkafool @mujhekoimarsbhejdo @mehfil-e-random @theanonymousweeb2010
(I'm just randomly tagging people who I know and who liked & commented on my previous pritam post-pls don't kill me-)
Saw some people fighting over 'defending Beomseok' vs 'hating Beomseok'; 'i feel bad but what he did to Suho was bad' vs 'Suho never tried to understand Beomseok and pushed over him' on Instagram. Here's my take on this:
Honestly no one is wrong and no one is right either, life always makes you play a role in someone's life, and it not always turns out peach and roses.
Suho was a lonely exhausted struggling teen, Sieun had a dysfunctional family which led him to be closed off and Beomseok was the victim of not only bullying but also his father's abuse. And they were just teenagers, they couldn't understand each other the way emotionally mature people in life would. Hence, their very much human flaws led them to misunderstand each other. I would always defend Beomseok for his sufferings but never for his wrong deeds, the same way, i would always sympathize with Suho but sure hoped he would have tried to understand Beomseok more. Because not all victims have the strength to open up. And Sieun? He was the bridge between them. But it was too late, Beomseok had shut them out before Sieun could reach out to him. Their fate drew them to their current state. They were just boys in school, no one was evil, no one was a saint, just very human teenage boys.
genre: angst/comfort, romance, established relationship
warnings: depression, attempted suicide, mentions of sh, mild description of sh scars and blood, smoking, mentions of bullying, canon violence, usage of y/n, intended lowercase
⤷ disclaimer: this story isn’t meant to romanticize the heavy themes it touches on. as someone who’s struggled with depression, self‑harm, and suicidal thoughts, i wrote it with as much care and respect as possible. if you’re dealing with anything similar, please reach out to a crisis line, a friend, a family member, a therapist, or anyone you trust. your life is precious. you are loved. if you feel this story may trigger you, it’s completely okay not to read it. stay safe.
summary: you had always struggled with mental health, and one late-night fight with seongje almost leads to a tragedy, leaving him completely broken. but he stays by your side, loving and devoted, determined to never lose you again.
author’s note: this story is inspired not only by my own struggles but also by suho and sieun (especially that one scene, where seongje appears at the hospital too). hope you’re gonna like it. ♡
seongje loved you — in his own twisted ways, of course — but he did love you.
he just didn’t exactly… get you.
you were beautiful, smart, creative.
but sometimes you were… odd.
you always kept smiling, no matter what. even if he said something mean, even if he cancelled a date last minute, you’d just smile at him and say “that’s okay, i understand, seongje. i still love you.”
but that smile never reached your eyes.
your eyes were always so painfully empty.
not that seongje was ever one to pay attention to details.
he wasn’t the type to talk about feelings either. rarely anyone had ever asked how he was doing — and sure, at first it hurt somewhere deep down, somewhere he’d never admit. but with the life he had, he learned indifference fast.
at first it was simple: why bother asking how some eunjang punk is feeling after seongje beats him to a pulp? that’s his job. he enjoys inflicting pain, so he doesn’t care.
but that philosophy slowly started to bleed into the rest of his life.
so even when he noticed how you bit your lip until it bled.
even when he noticed how you always covered your wrists around him, the reason obvious to anyone who cared enough to look, he just didn’t say anything.
it wasn’t his problem, right?
you were his girlfriend. you loved him. you took care of him.
and he loved you back.
that should have been enough.
right?
…right?
well, one day, it suddenly wasn’t.
you were home, waiting for him. he was late, nothing unusual. but you still stayed up, eyes aching with dark bags underneath.
you had to wait.
your love for him was the only thing you had left.
the door burst open with a loud slam.
your face lit up immediately. you turned off the tv and walked to the hallway to greet your seongje.
“hey… you’re late” you said with a tired, worn-out smile.
“yeah, whatever” he muttered, kicking off his shoes angrily. he smelled like the streets — sweat, cigarettes and frustration.
you reached out to take his jacket and gently said “you should take a shower, dear. you smell like hell…”
you didn’t mean it badly. it was just an observation. any other day, seongje would’ve laughed it off.
but today something had clearly pissed him off.
he had more scratches and bruises than usual — deep, angry ones.
it was strange… someone had fought him hard enough to leave marks like that. someone strong.
so he lashed out.
“god, do you always have to comment on my shit?”
“huh? seongje, sorry, i didn’t—”
“yeah, that’s the thing about you. you never mean anything.” his voice rose as he dragged a hand through his messy hair. “you keep smiling all the damn time but you look miserable. sometimes i feel like i’m the only thing holding you together. do you have any idea how fucking exhausting that is?”
your breath caught.
“whatever. i’m going out.”
he shoved his shoes back on, snatched the jacket from your hands, and slammed the door behind him.
the second the door closed, you trembled.
there was truth in his words.
he was the only thing keeping you together.
you didn’t have family that you could lean on. before dating him, you were bullied relentlessly. you had no friends. years of depression had hollowed you out until you had no interests, no passions — nothing that really belonged to you.
and hearing him say it…
it hurt.
it hurt so much it felt like something inside you finally snapped.
you walked to the bathroom and turned on the bath without thinking — hands moving on their own, eyes blank.
the sound of water filling the tub was… distant. almost muffled, like you were underwater already.
you didn’t add soap. or candles. or anything comforting.
you just stood there in the dark, staring at the rising water like it was something from someone else’s life.
your mind felt strangely light.
too light.
like everything inside you had finally burnt out.
you stepped in still wearing your shirt. the fabric clung to your skin, cold at first, then warmer as the water reached your waist.
you glanced at your razor blade. once. twice. it looked tempting. too tempting.
you sank down slowly, until the water, that was starting to turn red, rose to your shoulders.
you didn’t think.
didn’t cry.
didn’t speak.
for the first time in months, everything was quiet.
too quiet.
and a few moments later you didn’t even realize how your head tilted back against the tub.
or when your breaths slowed.
or when your limbs relaxed, slipping deeper into the water.
the pain stung just for a minute before you started drifting away to sleep.
meanwhile, far across the city, seongje was walking fast, hands shoved deep in his pockets, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
he replayed the fight in his head over and over.
your voice.
your smile that didn’t fight back.
the way you just… accepted his anger.
he scoffed at himself, kicking a stone on the sidewalk.
“so stupid,” he muttered “why the hell did i yell like that…”
but the image that bothered him wasn’t your words — it was the way you looked when he grabbed his jacket.
like you were bracing for something worse.
he lit a cigarette. dropped it.
suddenly didn’t want one.
the streets were cold. his mind colder. and then, against his usual nature, he turned around.
he wasn’t even sure why.
he just… needed to see you.
to make sure you weren’t—
he didn’t finish that thought.
when he unlocked the apartment door, the lights were dim.
your slippers were still by the entrance.
the living room was silent.
“y/n?” he called out, almost annoyed, almost tense.
no answer.
he walked further inside, each step heavier, a strange discomfort crawling up his neck.
and then he heard it —
water.
running.
still running.
his stomach dropped.
“y/n?”
he made it to the bathroom in three strides.
the door wasn’t locked.
he pushed it open—
and his breath stopped.
you were in the tub, completely still, head resting against the edge, eyes closed, the water lapping quietly at your chin.
the water around you started to take in the color of crimson red.
for a split second, he didn’t move.
then the world snapped.
“Y/N!”
he lunged forward so fast he slipped on the wet tile, slamming his knee into the floor, but he didn’t even feel it. he grabbed your shoulders, hauling your upper body out of the water, his breath breaking into shards.
“hey— hey, wake up. wake up. y/n, open your eyes.”
nothing.
your head lolled against his arm.
“no. no no no no— don’t do this. don’t fucking do this to me.”
he pressed his fingers to your neck, rough hands shaking uncontrollably.
he held his breath.
there.
a pulse.
weak. faint. but there.
“okay. okay, you’re alive. you’re alive” he whispered, voice cracking so violently it didn’t even sound like him.
but you weren’t waking up.
your blood couldn’t stop flowing from your opened wounds.
your skin was too cold.
your breathing too shallow.
your lashes didn’t flutter, not even when he cupped your face with both hands.
“y/n, please,” he whispered, forehead pressing to yours, water from your hair soaking into him “please… don’t leave.”
he didn’t even notice that his clothes were drenched now, or that the water from the tub was spilling everywhere. all he could feel was terror — raw, primal, unfamiliar — eating him from the inside out.
he was seongje.
the wolf.
the one who laughed in the face of danger.
the one who walked into fights smiling.
but this—
this was something he couldn’t punch.
something he couldn’t kick away.
something he couldn’t laugh at.
he was helpless.
his breath hitched. he reached with one shaking hand towards his phone, nearly dropping you as he fumbled for it. his fingers slipped twice before he finally got a grip, screen smudged with water.
“fuck— shit— stay with me, okay? stay with me” he muttered as he dialed, voice spiraling into panic.
the phone rang.
once.
twice.
“come on…” his voice was barely a whisper now “please…”
the moment the operator picked up, his composure shattered.
“it’s my girlfriend— she’s— she’s not waking up. she’s bleeding out please. she’s breathing, she’s fucking breathing but she’s not waking up—” his voice cracked, raw and desperate, nothing like the seongje anyone knew “please— send someone. please hurry.”
his free arm tightened around you, pulling you to his chest like he could keep your soul inside your body by force alone.
“don’t die on me” he whispered into your hair, voice trembling, breaking, unrecognizable.
“i’m right here. don’t die.”
the ride to the hospital was a blur. sirens, flashing lights, voices barking orders. seongje heard none of it. he was glued to your side, knuckles white where he held your hand, refusing to let go even when the paramedics told him to give them space.
“i’m not fucking moving” he snarled, voice wild, eyes bloodshot.
they didn’t argue.
one look at him and they knew better.
but now—
now he was powerless.
the moment they pushed you through the emergency room doors and blocked his path with a firm “sir, you have to wait outside”
something inside him cracked.
he paced the hallway like a caged animal, hair dripping with leftover bathwater, clothes sticking to him, breathing uneven and too loud in the sterile silence.
minutes felt like hours.
hours felt like torture.
finally, he sank into one of the cold uncomfortable metal chairs in the waiting area, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair. his walls—those unbreakable, violent walls—were collapsing.
“fuck…” he whispered, voice shaking.
he slammed his fist into his knee, hard enough to hurt.
then harder.
as if pain might keep him from thinking.
but he couldn’t stop.
the image of you in the tub.
the water.
the blood.
your stillness.
your pulse—barely there.
he shot up from the chair so suddenly it screeched across the tile, and he kicked it. hard.
the metal rattled, clattered, toppled over.
a nurse looked over, startled “sir— please—”
“don’t” he snapped, breathing ragged, eyes dark and frantic. “don’t tell me to calm down. don’t— don’t fucking talk to me right now.”
he dragged a hand down his face, pacing again, muttering under his breath.
“this is my fault. i knew something was off— i fucking knew it— why didn’t i—” his voice cracked, words dissolving into something hoarse.
“i should’ve said something. i should’ve asked. i should’ve stayed. fuck—” he slammed his palm against the wall, forehead dropping against it as his breath came out in shudders.
he didn’t cry.
seongje didn’t cry.
but something close, something raw and broken, burned in the corner of his eyes.
“you better live, y/n…” his voice was barely audible now, a broken whisper meant only for the empty hallway. “i swear, if you die— i won’t know how to—”
his voice died in his throat.
he pressed his fist against his mouth, trying to breathe, trying not to shatter completely.
for the first time in his life, seongje realized what real fear felt like.
not fear for himself.
but fear of losing you.
the only person who ever loved him without flinching.
the door clicked open.
seongje’s head snapped up so fast his neck almost cracked. the doctor stepped out, mask lowered to his chin, exhaustion heavy on his face.
“are you her… partner?” he asked carefully.
seongje didn’t even blink.
“yeah. what happened? tell me.”
the doctor exhaled slowly.
“we stabilized her condition. she lost a dangerous amount of blood, but… she’s alive.”
seongje’s knees nearly gave out. he grabbed the back of a chair just to stay upright.
“when’s she waking up?” he breathed.
the doctor hesitated.
and seongje’s stomach twisted.
“we don’t know,” the doctor admitted softly “her body is stable, but she hasn’t regained consciousness yet. it could be hours… or longer.”
that word — longer — felt like a blade carving into him.
“you can see her now” the doctor added gently.
seongje didn’t wait.
he practically shoved past him, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
the room was dim, quiet, too white. it felt wrong somehow. like you didn’t belong somewhere so cold.
and then he saw you.
small.
still.
bandaged arms resting on the thin blanket.
skin pale, lips drained of color.
you looked like you were drifting somewhere far away from him.
he stopped in the doorway, breath punched out of his lungs.
then, with hesitant steps, as if you might break from the sound of his footsteps, he approached your bedside.
“y/n…” he whispered.
no answer.
no movement.
just the soft beep of the monitor.
he reached for your hand.
his fingers hovered, terrified to hurt you.
terrified to feel nothing in return.
finally, he touched you.
your hand was slightly warmer now.
alive.
he broke.
“fuck…” he choked out, voice shattering.
the tears came silently at first — one, then another — falling onto your bandaged skin.
geum seongje, the boy who never cried, the boy who laughed through broken bones, the boy who bled for fun, was now shaking.
“you’re an idiot,” he whispered, leaning over your hand, pressing his forehead against it as his shoulders trembled “you can’t— you can’t do shit like this. not to me. not to yourself.”
his voice cracked completely.
“you hear me? i’m not letting you go. i don’t give a damn what anyone says, you’re… you’re mine. you’re mine to hold, mine to protect, mine to—”
his breath hitched, a sob torn straight from the part of him he never showed anyone.
“please wake up.”
he tightened his grip around your hand, as if anchoring you to the world.
“i swear i’ll do better. i swear i’ll try. just… come back to me, okay?”
his tears dripped onto your fingers.
“i can’t lose the only person who ever saw anything good in me.”
the room stayed quiet.
you didn’t move.
but seongje didn’t let go.
not this time.
days passed.
the union buzzed with irritation and confusion — because the wolf was gone.
geum seongje, the one who never skipped, never hid, never backed down, had vanished.
rumors spread fast, faster than fists usually did around him.
“heard he got messed up in a fight.”
“nah, he’s hiding from some daegu guys.”
“i heard… something happened. something bad.”
but nobody knew the truth.
seongje made damn sure of that.
because if anyone found out about you — if anyone realized you were the one thing that could break the great geum seongje — he’d be dead before sunrise.
or worse
…you would.
so he stayed silent.
he ignored every call, every meeting, every fight request.
he didn’t return messages.
even his closest subordinates stopped trying.
he just… disappeared.
but every single day, without a fail, he walked into your hospital room.
sometimes morning.
sometimes deep in the night.
sometimes with blood on his knuckles from a fight he picked out of pure self-hatred.
he always entered quietly.
sat next to your bed.
took your hand like it was the only thing grounding him.
he didn’t talk much. because the more he tried, the more he realized how little he actually knew about you.
one day he stood outside a convenience store for fifteen minutes, staring at the flower display.
pink?
white?
sunflowers?
roses?
what the hell did you like?
he picked roses.
then threw them away before he reached the hospital because he convinced himself you’d hate them.
another day he pulled out his phone, thinking maybe he’d make something for you.
a playlist.
something that said i miss you without him having to choke on the words.
but halfway through scrolling through songs, he froze.
“shit… what does she even listen to…?”
he didn’t know.
he didn’t know a single one of your favorite songs. not one. not your favorite color, either. not the snacks you liked. not what kind of flowers made you smile. not which movies made you laugh until your stomach hurt.
he knew how you kissed. he knew how you held his sleeve when you were nervous. he knew how your smile cracked at the edges like you were trying too hard.
but the rest?
empty.
the guilt hit him like a fist to the gut.
he was your whole world — and he barely knew anything about yours.
so he sat beside your bed, elbows on his knees, one hand gripping his hair, the other holding yours.
“i’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered, voice rough “you gave me everything and i didn’t even bother to learn what flowers you’d want from me.”
his thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“i’m trying,” he whispered “i’m trying so hard. wake up and i’ll… i’ll figure it out. all of it. everything you like. everything you love. i’ll learn it.”
he swallowed hard.
“just… wake up. i’m begging you.”
but the only answer was the soft humming monitor beside your bed.
and every day, the guilt ate him a little more.
until even the wolf of the union wasn’t sure he’d survive it.
that night the hallway was too quiet.
seongje pushed open the door to your hospital room, already halfway through a muttered “hey… i’m here again, idiot… you better—”
and then he froze.
someone was sitting beside your bed.
legs crossed.
hands folded.
expression unreadable.
na baekjin.
his cold eyes drifted from your unconscious face to seongje without a hint of surprise.
for a heartbeat, seongje didn’t breathe.
then—
“what the fuck are you doing here?” the snarl ripped out of him instantly, instinctively, like something feral had sunk its teeth into his spine.
he stormed forward, hands curling into fists.
baekjin didn’t flinch.
didn’t move.
didn’t even look intimidated.
he simply blinked, slow, elegant, bored.
“calm down, seongje,” he said, voice smooth as glass but sharp enough to cut “if i wanted to hurt her, i wouldn’t be sitting.”
“don’t—” seongje hissed, chest heaving “—don’t fucking talk about her.”
baekjin let out a breath. almost a sigh.
“i was curious.” he continued, leaning back in the chair as if he were attending a board meeting and not sitting beside the only person the geum seongje cared about.
“curious what could pull you away from the union.”
his eyes flicked to you again.
“turns out… it was a girl.”
seongje lunged.
got halfway before baekjin’s calm, cold voice stopped him “if you touch me, the union will hear why you disappeared.”
silence.
the kind that vibrated like a wire pulled too tight.
baekjin tilted his head.
not mocking — calculating.
“you’ve caused quite the stir. hiding. ignoring orders. skipping fights. even the lower ranks are whispering.”
his gaze slid over you, lingering on the bandages around your wrists.
“you should’ve told me you were protecting something,” baekjin said, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves “it’s dangerous to keep secrets in our world.”
his eyes flicked to your face one last time.
“i’ll pretend i didn’t see this.”
seongje’s breath hitched.
baekjin stepped past him, pausing at the door.
“but seongje,” he added quietly, not turning back “if anyone else finds out… you won’t be able to handle what comes next.”
then he left.
and the moment the door clicked shut, seongje’s knees nearly buckled.
he rushed to your bedside, grabbing your hand with both of his, lips barely pressed to your fingers.
“i’m not letting anyone touch you,” he whispered, shaking “not baekjin. not the union. not the whole fucking world.”
his voice cracked.
“just wake up. please… before everything breaks.”
after that night, baekjin didn’t visit the hospital again — but he did start texting.
not often.
not directly.
never anything as simple as an order.
no — baekjin’s messages were elegant threats wrapped in polite wording.
“a small matter requires your attention.”
“don’t make me come looking.”
“you know what happens if you refuse.”
seongje read every text with his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
so he came back.
to the union.
to the fights.
to the dirty work.
but something was wrong.
he didn’t laugh.
he didn’t smirk.
he didn’t enjoy the rush.
he wasn’t the scary and crazy geum seongje from the union anymore.
he was just a boy who wanted to sit beside your hospital bed.
every time blood splattered, all he could think about was your pale hands wrapped in bandages.
all that blood just reminded him more and more of that horrible night.
every time someone hit him, he heard the beeping of your heart monitor.
and then, during one fight — breath ragged, knuckles split, some punk struggling under his grip — his phone buzzed.
unknown number.
he almost ignored it.
he didn’t have room for more bullshit.
but something in his gut twisted, and he pulled it out anyway.
“what?” he snapped, wiping blood from his face.
silence.
then —
“is this… geum seongje?”
a woman’s voice.
steady. professional.
his entire body went still.
“this is the nurse calling from seoul national university hospital.”
the name hit him like a punch.
“yeah. yeah, it’s me — what’s happening?”
the fight behind him dissolved into background noise.
his heart climbed into his throat.
“we found your name and number in the visitor log. it’s about patient y/n y/l/n.”
everything inside him stopped.
“she woke up a few minutes ago. you can come visi—”
he didn’t hear the rest.
he didn’t even breathe.
you woke up?
and he wasn’t there?
he was out here doing union shit, throwing punches, ignoring his own bones cracking, while you opened your eyes alone?
what if you thought he abandoned you?
what if you remembered the way he slammed the door that night and thought he never came back?
his heartbeat roared in his ears.
he didn’t tell anyone.
he didn’t finish the fight.
he didn’t even look back.
seongje ran.
he ran like the pavement was collapsing behind him.
like something monstrous was chasing him.
like his life — what little of it still mattered — was on the line.
he shoved past crowds, almost fell twice, lungs burning, ribs aching, but he didn’t stop.
not until he saw the hospital doors.
not until the cold glass reflected the truth back at him: you were awake.
and there you were.
sitting in a wheelchair by the window, blanket over your lap, bandaged arms resting quietly against the handles.
the soft glow of the sunset warmed your skin, painting you in gold, like the world was trying to apologize for everything it took from you.
you were awake.
breathing.
alive.
seongje froze in the doorway’s shadow, unable to step forward, unable to step back either.
you looked peaceful.
he’d never seen you look peaceful.
not once.
not even before all of this.
for a second — one fragile, impossible second — he didn’t want to ruin it.
you were gazing out at the city, the life you’d missed while you slept, the life he’d taken for granted until you slipped away from it.
his hand hovered over the doorknob.
what was he supposed to say?
how was he supposed to walk in after everything he’d done?
after the way he left you that night?
his chest tightened, breath shaking.
his fingers twitched.
every instinct screamed something different — run, stay, apologize, collapse, laugh, scream.
and then the door clicked under his hand.
the moment the latch gave way, all of seongje’s impulses broke loose.
he didn’t stop.
he didn’t think.
he didn’t breathe.
he just rushed to you.
like he had in the bathroom, like he had in the hallway, like every second spent without you was oxygen he couldn’t survive on.
“y/n…” he whispered, voice raw, ripped open.
you turned your head — slowly, carefully — and your tired eyes met his.
and that was it.
that was all it took.
he was at your side in an instant, dropping to his knees beside the wheelchair, hands trembling as they hovered over yours — afraid to touch, terrified not to.
you blinked at him, confused at first — his sudden entrance, the way he practically fell to your side, the way his breath hitched like he’d run a marathon just to reach you.
you didn’t remember everything.
the night was a smear of pain and water and cold.
but you remembered him.
you remembered loving him.
that was enough for your lips to curve into a soft, tired smile.
he looked like how you always remembered — smell of cigarettes lingering on his clothes, knuckles split and bruised from whoever was unlucky enough to cross his path, jaw sharp with tension.
but his eyes…
his eyes were wrong.
they were red, exhausted, cracked open in a way you’d never seen.
there was no cocky spark, no amused glint, no vicious thrill.
just a boy on the edge of breaking.
his hand still unsurely hovered beside yours, shaking like he didn’t trust himself to touch you yet.
so you reached first.
you slid your fingers into his and gave a small, gentle squeeze.
i’m here, the pressure said, i’m alive.
and that simple touch shattered him all over again.
his breath stuttered, shoulders trembling — and the tears he’d been fighting since the night he found you
finally slipped free.
but this time…
for the first time in months…
he smiled.
a weak, crooked, trembling smile
that looked like it physically hurt him to make.
“i missed you,” he whispered, voice breaking apart “i missed you so fucking much… don’t you ever—” his grip on your hand tightened, desperate, terrified, tender “don’t you ever leave me again.”
after a little pause, when he was just taking in your features, as if he couldn’t believe that this was real, he breathed out again “y/n…” voice cracking open.
the sound of your name on his tongue was already fragile — but when you answered him, when your voice actually filled the room for the first time in months, something inside him collapsed.
your soft, tired, real “seongje?…”
hit him harder than any punch ever had.
he sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders jerking.
god, he missed your voice.
missed it so much it physically hurt.
he forgot how gentle it was.
how warm.
how it always softened the edges of the world he lived in.
“fuck— i… i don’t even know where to start.”
you watched him, your thumb brushing the back of his trembling hand.
“i’m sorry,” he rushed out, words piling over each other “i’m so fucking sorry. for that night. for what I said. for not—”
his breath shuddered.
“for not noticing how bad things were for you. i should’ve been there, i should’ve—”
“seongje…” you whispered again, and there it was again — that voice.
the one that used to call him home.
the one he thought he might never hear again.
it knocked another sob out of him, but he kept spiraling.
“and when you woke up— shit, when they called me, i wasn’t even here. i should’ve been here. with you. i should’ve—”
his voice broke into a wet, angry, helpless sob.
“but ask them. ask the nurses. i came every day. every fucking day. i swear i didn’t leave you alone.” he looked up at you then — eyes bloodshot, cheeks streaked, lips trembling like he was terrified you wouldn’t believe him.
your heart cracked.
so you lifted your hand and slid your palm across his cheek.
his breath hitched like you’d touched a bruise.
“seongje,” you murmured, voice soft and steady.
he froze at the sound of it, like he was afraid it might disappear again.
you leaned a little closer.
“it’s okay,” you whispered “i trust you.”
your thumb brushed under his eye just where his mole was, catching a tear before it fell.
“i love you, seongje.”
it was like those words knocked the air from his lungs.
his fingers tightened around your knees, not in desperation but in something fragile, terrified, grateful all at once. and then he leaned forward — slowly, hesitantly — like he was asking for permission with every breath.
he wrapped his arms around your waist.
his forehead pressed to your lap.
and his whole body shook.
quiet, broken sobs spilled from him, muffled against the fabric.
the infamous wolf of the union — the boy who laughed in fights, who never backed down, who feared nothing — was crying into your blanket.
because you were alive, because you were here, because your voice — god, your voice — still existed for him.
“don’t ever scare me like that again,” he choked, barely audible “i can’t… i can’t lose you. i’m a mess without you.”
after that day — the day seongje would later swear was the happiest day of his entire shitty, chaotic life — everything changed.
the guy, who was known for being ruthless and rough, suddenly got… gentle.
the wolf wasn’t a wolf anymore.
he pushed your wheelchair with both hands, slow and careful, always checking up on you.
“you sure you aren’t cold?”
“too fast?”
“you tired?”
— questions he never asked anyone in his whole life before.
he pointed out birds, clouds, stray cats hiding behind hospital bushes, anything that made your eyes brighten even for a heartbeat.
and when the nurses taught you to try short walks again during your physical rehabilitation, he was right there behind you, hands hovering an inch from your waist, ready to catch you even if you took a single wrong step.
you never saw him this gentle.
you never imagined he could be.
sometimes he’d get quiet while watching you. not sad, just… thoughtful, like he was seeing you for the first time, all the little things he never looked at before.
“hey,” he said one morning as he wheeled you into the local hospital park to watch the sunrise “uh… what flowers do you like?”
you blinked at him. he looked away instantly.
“i’m not askin’ ’cause i forgot. i just— i wanna get you the right shit. so tell me.”
and that was the moment you noticed…
he was trying.
really, truly trying.
learning you from zero
the way he should have before.
it warmed something in your chest that had been cold for years.
he brought your favorite flowers the next day.
one too many, actually — a huge bouquet he pretended wasn’t a big deal, cheeks pink as he shoved it into your hands.
he talked more now, asked more, paid attention.
and with every soft moment, with every gentle gesture, you felt this slow, aching comfort return.
but comfort also came with something else — awareness.
because the closer he leaned in, the more his hands brushed your sleeves as he helped you dress, as he fixed your blanket, as he steadied you on shaky feet
the more you felt it.
the weight of the truth beneath the fabric.
at first, the bandages hid it.
layers of white and tape made everything feel distant, unreal.
you didn’t have to look.
you didn’t have to think.
but the day the nurse unwound the last strip, the day cool air touched the skin that had never fully healed, your stomach dropped.
they looked worse than anything you ever expected.
not just lines.
but reminders.
loud ones.
you stared.
silent.
nausea creeping up your throat.
the nurse spoke gently — something about ointments, something about healing, something about checking in if something felt wrong — but her voice was a blur.
he’s going to see this.
he’s going to think you’re disgusting.
he’s going to remember what you did and wish he never came back.
the thought made your eyes burn.
and suddenly you hated your hands, hated your arms, hated your own skin.
you pulled your sleeves down so fast the nurse flinched.
after she left, you sat there on the hospital bed, shaking.
later that afternoon, seongje slipped into the hospital room like he always did — messy hair from running over, jacket half-zipped, eyes immediately on you.
“hey” he said softly, dropping a bag of snacks on the table.
he was trying to sound casual, he always did now, but there was something careful in his voice.
like he didn’t want to startle you.
you forced a smile.
but his eyes narrowed — just slightly. that new attentiveness he was practicing settling in.
“you okay?” he asked.
you nodded too quickly.
“yeah. just… tired.”
he watched you for a long moment.
longer than he would’ve months ago.
before, he would’ve shrugged and moved on.
now he stepped closer.
“y/n.”
his voice firmer, but still gentle.
“what happened?”
you swallowed hard and tugged your sleeves even lower.
“nothing, seongje. i’m fine.”
that made something flicker in his expression — frustration, but not at you. more like at himself. the old him would’ve rolled his eyes or walked away.
this version didn’t.
he sat beside you, knees brushing yours, leaning forward slightly so he could look you in the eye.
“you think i’m stupid?”
the question was quiet, not biting — just honest.
“your face screams you’re not fine.”
his gaze softened.
“talk to me. i’m trying, okay? i wanna… do things right this time.”
your throat tightened.
you opened your mouth, but nothing came out — just a shaky inhale.
he waited.
really waited.
then you finally whispered “i just… i saw them today” his eyes moved to your covered arms and then back up — slow, cautious, like he didn’t want to assume.
“the scars?” he murmured.
you nodded, shame burning your cheeks.
you expected disgust.
or awkwardness.
or pity.
but instead, his jaw clenched — not in anger at you, but at everything that hurt you.
you looked away quickly.
“they’re ugly,” you whispered “you’ll see them eventually and… i know you won’t want to anymore.”
the moment those words left your lips, you felt him freeze beside you.
a heartbeat later, you felt his hand — warm, hesitant — resting beside yours on the blanket.
not grabbing.
not forcing.
just there.
“y/n,” he said quietly, voice rough with something you’d never heard from him before “don’t say shit like that.”
you blinked, startled.
he exhaled shakily.
“i don’t care what they look like. i care that you’re still here to have them.”
your breath caught.
he looked at your sleeves again — this time not scared or disgusted, but devastated in a way that made your chest ache.
“i’m not leaving,” he said, stronger now “not because of scars. not because of anything.”
and then, softer, almost a whisper “i’m here and i’m not going anywhere.”
his words settled into your chest like warm water, but the fear didn’t vanish.
not fully.
not yet.
you stared at your sleeves for a long moment, fingers curling in the fabric.
your heart thudded against your ribs — too loud, too fast.
“do you…” your voice was barely a sound “do you want to see them?”
seongje froze.
not because he was afraid.
but because he knew what it meant for you to ask.
he swallowed hard “only if you want me to,” he said quietly “i’m not gonna force you.”
you nodded, even though your hands trembled.
slowly, you pushed your sleeves up.
the room felt too bright.
too silent.
you couldn’t breathe as the scars came into view — angry, uneven, reminders of everything you lost and everything you survived.
you didn’t look at him.
you couldn’t.
but you felt the shift in the air when he finally saw.
heard the sharp inhale he tried to hide.
felt the bed dip as he leaned in closer without touching you, like he was afraid his hands might hurt you.
“y/n…” he breathed, voice cracking apart.
not disgusted.
not horrified.
just hurting.
you dared to glance at him.
his eyes weren’t on the scars — they were on your face.
and he looked wrecked.
“these…”
his voice faltered.
he lifted his hand slowly, giving you time to pull away — you didn’t — and then he traced the air above your skin, not touching, just hovering. like he was afraid even the heat of his palm might sting you.
“you went through this alone,” he whispered “and i wasn’t there. i should’ve—”
“seongje,” you whispered, but he shook his head.
“no. let me say this.”
his voice trembled again.
“i’m not angry at you. i’m angry at myself. at the world. at whatever made you feel like this was the only way out.”
he finally touched you — gently, like your skin was silk.
his fingertips brushed the edges of a scar, feather-light, reverent.
not a flinch.
not a moment of hesitation.
just quiet devotion.
“these don’t make you ugly,” he said, voice low, fierce “they make me grateful you’re still here.”
your breath caught in your throat.
your chest tightened painfully.
“seongje…” and then — before your fear could twist into shame again — he leaned forward.
very slowly.
giving you every chance to stop him.
when you didn’t, he pressed his lips to the scars.
soft.
careful.
like he was kissing wounds you carried on your soul, not your skin.
your eyes burned as he lingered there for a moment, his breath warm against your arm.
when he finally looked up at you, his hair fell into his eyes.
he looked vulnerable.
honest.
and utterly yours.
“i still think you’re beautiful,” he whispered, voice steady with truth “every part of you.”
your heart felt too big for your ribs.
your hands shook as you reached for him, and he met you halfway, resting his forehead against yours.
for the first time since you woke up, the fear loosened its hold.
you believed him.
you leaned in before you even realized you were doing it — slow, hesitant, guided by the pull in your chest rather than any thought.
seongje froze for half a second when your lips brushed his.
not because he didn’t want it.
because he did.
so much that it scared him.
and then he kissed you back.
not like before — not the usual wild, hungry, head-against-head, teeth-brushing, breathless chaos he always dragged you into.
this was different.
his lips moved against yours carefully, almost shyly.
slow.
steady.
like he was memorizing you all over again.
his hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb trembling just slightly as he tilted your face to him.
not to control.
not to dominate.
but to hold.
to feel.
his forehead pressed to yours between breaths, lips returning to yours with that same fragile devotion — soft, warm, aching with everything he hadn’t said in the months you slept.
a tiny sound escaped him, something like relief and longing tangled together.
he kissed you like he was thanking the universe.
like he was afraid to break you.
afraid to break the moment.
afraid he might wake up and realize you weren’t here.
your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him close.
he let you.
leaned into you.
followed your pace, your softness, your need.
when he finally pulled back just an inch, his breath ghosted over your lips.
“god…” he whispered, voice wrecked “i missed you. i missed this. i missed you.”
and then he kissed you again, slow and devoted.
like this was the first kiss he’d ever truly meant.
when the kiss finally eased into stillness, he didn’t let you go — not even for a second.
he pulled you gently into his chest, arms wrapping around you with a kind of certainty he had never shown anyone before. his chin rested on the top of your head, his heartbeat racing like he was afraid you’d disappear if he blinked.
his hands settled at your back, holding you like you were something precious — something he was terrified of losing again.
“i’ve got you” he murmured, barely above a whisper.
you felt him exhale, shaky but sure, as if he was finally letting months of fear drain out of him in one breath.
he pressed one last kiss to your temple — soft, reverent, full of everything he didn’t know how to say “i’ll protect you.” he promised, voice steady now, anchored.
“and i’ll love you for the rest of my life.”
fin.
if you’d like to read more of my work make sure to check out my weak hero masterlist !! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭
Hii! I'm in love with the headcanons you wrote for Kyungjun.Your writing style is so good! Can you write new ones?🙏🙏 (nsfw content)
Hiii sorry for the late post. I had taken a break from socials due to exams and for my mental health. Hope you enjoy reading this <3
- jenslvt.
GO KYUNGJUN
NSFW alphabet
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
After a rough intense round, kyungjun would pull to his chest, hold you tightly showering you with quiet praises even though he’s not too vocal.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Thighs. He's a thigh grabber. Would definitely leave deep bruises to mark you his.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
In your mouth or a creampie. Wouldn't waste his seed but also doesn't wanna become a father so early.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Loves bondage. Would definitely suggest you and will convince you if you hesitate. Also, wouldn't use rough ropes if he really loves you and doesn't see you as a sexual favour. Pink ribbons will decorate your skin every other random Friday night.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Very much experienced with the amount of porn he has watched and a few girls in the past.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Cowgirl or mating press.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Have seen this guy? No. Just no.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
For being a delinquent, he's surprisingly well groomed. But then he's from a rich family so.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He's too indulged in the moment to care about anything but having sex. Would throw praises here and there to maintain an intimacy.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Would jackoff in the school bathroom or at home in his bedroom, thinking about you and thighs ofc.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Cosplay. I think he's a Hentai Anime watcher. Would go crazy if you dress up as one of those school girls with mini skirts.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Anywhere. Literally anywhere. Doesn't give a fuck.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Your thighs are his biggest motivation. Be careful wearing short skirts around him.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Physical pain/torture.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Both. Would deff love recieving but enjoya eating you out more.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Fast and rough with slow sensual in between.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
A big YES. He's ready to do it anywhere. Would risk you both being late to first class of the day because he can't keep it in he's pants.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Would love to try balcony sex in his penthouse when nobody's home. Would love seeing the panic in your eyes at the thought of someone seeing you both.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Three-four, five at max before he collapsed on top of you. Will manage to overstimulate you in three rounds.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
A rabbit shaped vibrater. Will definitely use it as a form of punishment if you tease him too much.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
A lot. Would go on untill beg him to fuck you senseless.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Grunts and groans. Curses out of that foul mouth
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Will let you dom him. But just for once.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Veiny 7 inches with average girth curved upward.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Very very high. He's too greedy for you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
A nice fifteen to twenty minutes of quiet intimacy before falling asleep.
- Also, now I'm writing for weak hero class so be free to send requests. I'm out of fics rn, my old drafts got lost forever and now I need to rewrite them but I don't remember what i wrote before. 😭
Make sure to hit a request or send me any ideas you have for weak hero boys I'll be happy to write it for you <3
• Kyungjun who says “come here” and pulls Sora into his arms because she was sitting too far.
• Kyungjun who keeps asking Sora if she has eaten and if not, he would make her sit on lap and complete the food.
• Kyungjun who defends his girlfriend Sora if anyone bad mouths her behind her back and would break their bones if he have to.
• Kyungjun who pulls Sora’s chair near him by one hand, because he wants her to be as close as possible. The students in cafeteria are left in awe at the scene.
• Kyungjun who helps Sora without saying. Carries her school bag, opens doors for her, walks / drives her home, buys her dinner, ties her shoelaces, fixes her clothes, princess treatment.
• Kyungjun who is whipped for Sora, if she rests her gaze on something, her eyes shinning, he would be buying it the next movement. Sora likes it, Sora gets it. Not like he would have any prob, he’s loaded.
• Kyungjun is a ‘hates everyone but her’ boyfriend.
• Kyungjun who tracks Sora’s period on his phone. Helps her during, buying pads, her favourite chocolates, snacks and medicines. Sora’s periods have always been much painful and he tries his best to ease the pain away by cuddling, rubbing her tummy, giving her forehead kisses.
• Kyungjun who always has his hands on his girlfriend, be it on shoulder, intertwined fingers or arm wrapped around her waist. It’s his way of showing ownership and possession to the other guys that Sora is his and only his.
• Kyungjun who loves having her in his lap. Even in school, Sora would be sitting on his lap writing/ reading on desk, while He would be either playing with her hair or talking to Jinha and Seungbin.
• Kyungjun who curses and gives death glares whenever someone looks at Sora in bad way or for too long.
• Once Sora was alone in the bus , kyungjun was yet to get on, a pervert man kept staring at her bare legs, she was still in her school uniform, and made a move towards her. Sora was uncomfortable and scared when he suddenly grabbed her wrist trying to pull her. The man stumbled back when a punch landed on his face. Kyungjun landed a few more punches before kicking the man out of the bus. After, they sat together in ride back home, Sora hugging the boy while he caresses her hair.
• Everyone knows, meddling with Sora meant messing with kyungjun and everyone backed off.
• Sora has to tend his wounds and injuries he get after getting into fights.
• Someone looks at her for too long? Glares at them. Someone talks to her? Either waves them off or mocks them when they leave. Someone confesses to her? They get threats as a warning. Someone touches her? Disappeared from the face of earth
• You could actually see him wanting to kill other boys out of jealousy but he’ll hold himself back by giving them a light beating instead.
• Kyungjun who listens only his girlfriend. Calming down at the slightest of her touch, dropping the fight the moment she call out his name. It doesn’t need to be a form, her soft honey voice is enough.
• Kyungjun who knows somethings wrong right away by one glance at Sora’s face. If someone bullies her, they better run. Doesn’t matter if he’s a bully himself, no one bullies his girl.
• Kyungjun ‘s friends, Seungbin and Jinha who also have a soft spot for their leader’s little girlfriend. Always helping her around, buying her snacks, joking around making her laugh.
• With kyungjun it’s always passionate makeout sessions.
• He’s the dominant one in bed and he’s not having any other way around and Sora’s too shy to be uppercase.
• Kyungjun has a high sex drive. He can be horny anywhere doesn’t matter.
• Sora would bend down to get something in her school skirt and something would be poking in his pants.
• Kyungjun doesn’t care what place it is. Be it school storage room, rooftop, car, dinner table, couch, shower, floor etc.
• Kyungjun enjoys prepping her up with kisses and stimulation taking his time. Like what are those thick big hands for?
• Likes tying her up with pink/ white silk ribbons, when she's dressed up in pink/ white silk dresses, skirts, socks. ALL DOLLED UP.
• He can’t get over the view of Sora sucking him, on her knees sitting prettily on the bed, his hand in her silky hair, glossy doe eyes looking up at him.
• He has to prepare her before going in.
• Even after so much preparing, Sora was always so tight, too tight for him, her eyes sting with tears at the burning stretch.
• Position? Mating press, doggy style, standing, on knees her with her back pressed to his chest, holding her up while her legs are wrapped around his torso & arms holding his shoulders. Pretty much into spanking, biting.
• Kyungjun loves when Sora rides him, making her do all work at start, but when she slows her pace, he’s spanking her ass/ thighs, a grin on his face as he tells her to move at his desired pace
• When she gets tired, he’s quick to get a hold of her waist, bouncing her on his cock, while drilling up into her at the same time. Poor Sora is left with crying in his chest at the mean thrusts.
• After a rough intense round, kyungjun pulls her to his chest, holding her tightly while rubbing her skin, showering her with compliments even though he’s not too vocal.
• Kyungjun loves his peaceful movements with Sora. He would rather be dead then to live without her.
• But since he’s will to live a peaceful life with Sora is strong, he would do everything to keep her alive even if it means to burn down the entire world.
• Kyungjun loves his Sora.
Ps; go to my Wattpad Jenslvt for Night has come Kyungjun x OC.
Also, now I'm writing for weak hero class so be free to send requests. I'm out of fics rn, my old drafts got lost forever and now I need to rewrite them but I don't remember what i wrote before. 😭
Word Count: 6.5K
Requested by @jenslvt: "I was wondering if you could write something about the reader having daddy issues, she gets into a big heated argument with her father and locks herself in her room. Humin comforts her. I wondering if you could use the references from the song 'daddy issues by neighbourhood'?"
Warnings: smoking, language, violence, blood, death, grief, all the angst in the world, use of (Y/N), domestic violence, abuse
Paring: Park Hu-min x Fem!Reader
Summary: When (Y/N) moves into Park Hu-min's neighborhood, the boy can't help but gravitate toward the girl. And when he finds out that her family is nowhere close to perfect, he can't stop himself from wanting to protect her. He knows the pain that comes from being hurt by the person who is supposed to protect you no matter what, and the last thing he wants is for her to believe the rest of her life has to look that way. Even if there are obstacles in the way, he wants nothing more than for her forever to look different than the one he saw for himself.
MASTERLIST
Brick walls. Insulation. Wall panels. None of it was thick enough. At least not enough to drown out the horror that could live behind them. Broken dishes. Slammed doors. Razor-sharp words. They were the loudest melody that came from (Y/N)’s house every time her father decided to find comfort at the bottom of a bottle.
He had been kind when she was younger, back when she couldn’t argue back or make decisions on her own. Her father had loved her then. His little princess, he used to call her. He had promised her to protect her from the monsters that roamed the earth. She had believed him, of course. At that moment, she couldn’t have known the monster already lived under her roof.
There were days she thought about running away. She didn’t have much to pack, and she was sure no one in the house would notice her absence. Her presence had become a ghostly whisper in the space, only noticeable in the quiet of the night, where even the smallest creak would send the older man into a frenzy. (Y/N) tried her best to resign herself to the only space in the house she felt safe, but there were times when that wasn’t enough. Darkness was able to sneak in, to drown what little light she had left.
But as much as she wanted to go, there was one person who kept her coming back home.
Park Hu-min had decided from the moment he had laid eyes on (Y/N) that it was his job to protect her. He'd lived in his neighborhood his entire life, as did most of his neighbors. It was rare for anyone new to move in, much less a family that looked like (Y/N)'s.
A young couple and two kids, an older boy and a girl around Hu-min's age. On the outside, they seemed perfect. And for a moment, he envied the doe-eyed girl who looked as though she had never been met with the unkindness of the world. That was until he heard the yelling. All it took was a week for the façade to shatter, gone after a night her father drowned in soju bottles and questionable company. There was no question that her family was far from perfect.
The boy had heard it all. With his ear pressed against the wall, he had witnessed every insult, every crash, every sob. He'd heard fights before. Wives scolding their husbands for reeking of alcohol, husbands yelling at their wives, kids screaming about unfairness and frustrations. What he had never heard was a daughter yelling at her father for his wrongdoings and her mother scolding her for doing so. Hu-min heard as her mother ushered the kids to their respective rooms, telling them to keep their doors shut and not to come out until the morning. That was the first time he heard her cry through the walls.
Hu-min knew the layout of the apartment. The entire block was built the same. The only difference was that conjoined buildings were flipped. He knew the exact room (Y/N) had locked herself in. He was standing on a replica of it.
What took over him that night, he didn't know. One second, he felt tears well in the corners of his eyes as he listened to the girl's sniffles. And the next, he was climbing through the open window of the living room. The house had quieted by then. He snuck a glance to the side and noticed (Y/N)'s father passed out on the floor, wincing as he was reminded of his own dad and the nights he would find him sprawled on the ground. But Hu-min wasn't there to compare; he was there to help.
Hu-min thought he knew what he'd find, but he was still surprised. Unlike his room, hers was neat, her walls covered with books and string lights. There were no bundles of dirty laundry on the ground, at least none that he could see. Her bed was made and riddled with stuffed animals and pillows. It looked safe, warm, inviting, unlike the scene he had to walk through to get to her.
He rapped softly on the window of her room, trying his hardest to make his presence as unthreatening as he could. Still, she yelped at the sight of him, her sadness quickly transforming into surprise. “It's just me,” Hu-min whispered as he maneuvered himself through the opening. “I came to see how you were.”
“W-why?” (Y/N) sniffled as he sat beside her on the ground. “W-we barely know each other.”
“We've been friends for a week, no? That's a lifetime in my books.”
“S-so, you heard all of that?” Her eyes fell to her feet as she pulled her knees closer to her chest. She wasn't used to people knowing about her situation, much less caring. “I... I'm sorry, Baku.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I don't...”
“It's not your fault that this happened, (Y/N),” he said. Baku wanted to bring her in, to comfort her through a physicality that wasn't natural to them yet. But the itching under his skin was unbearable, and without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, taking note of the way she flinched as he neared her body. “I just... I've been there, okay? I know what you're going through. And I'm not letting you go through this on your own.”
“I'm not really alone,” she muttered. “My brother is right next door.”
“Oh, well,” Hu-min cleared his throat, “I can go, if you want.”
“No!” (Y/N) exclaimed quickly, holding onto his arm to keep him from moving. “Stay. Please.”
You ask me what I'm thinking about
I tell you that I'm thinking about
Whatever you're thinking about
A smile pulled at the boy's mouth. He slid back down to the ground, stiffening as she curled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She was searching for warmth, for anything that could take her mind off what had happened that night. “Distract me a little, yeah?” she sniffled, trying her best to hold her tears back. “What're you thinking about?”
Hu-min chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting hug, allowing her to take whatever it was that she needed. “Whatever you're thinking about,” he smirked. “What is it?”
Tell me something that I'll forget
And you might have to tell me again
It's crazy what you'll do for a friend
“Baku, please,” she whimpered. “Tell me something, anything. Something I'll forget and you'll have to tell me again. I just don't want to think about tonight.”
“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'd do anything for a friend,” Hu-min said, pulling her closer to him, ignoring the way her tears drenched his t-shirt. “Why don't I tell you about the best anime in existence?”
Nights like that became routine over the years. Even when it was his own father the one who came home with liquor in his system and hate on his tongue, Hu-min would sneak into (Y/N)'s room and they would comfort each other. Before her, he would have escaped to his best friend's house, and Go Hyun-tak would receive him with open arms. After her, his trek had come down to minutes as he slammed the door of his father's apartment and climbed into hers.
He was always careful. The last thing he wanted was to create more trouble for (Y/N). But there was one night he threw caution to the wind—one of the worst nights he had ever witnessed.
Baku had heard (Y/N)'s father arrive that summer night. He was loud and impudent, yelling for his wife's help long before he even reached the front door. His steps were unstable, making him trip over every move he made forward. Hiccups took over his throat every few words, interrupted only by the sound of his dry heaving. The boy watched from his window as the man gripped the handrail tightly, walking up the front stairs clumsily.
(Y/N) hurried outside to help, her father screaming in her ear that she had taken too long. Hu-min's fist clenched at his sides as he saw the defeated look on her face. She had lost her bite in the years she had lived there. The girl who used to fight back had withered away, hiding somewhere deep inside where she could be protected. He understood why she stopped fighting back. Survival was the top priority in her head, and with her brother gone to college, she needed to ensure she lasted, too.
As she struggled to help the man up the stairs, Hu-min wanted nothing but to run and help her. But he knew the second he did, her situation could turn worse. So, he listened as the inebriated man cursed at the girl, calling her weak and useless as he crushed her under his weight. He flinched at the slam of the door, knowing there was nothing else he could do until he simply had to intervene.
“Where the fuck is your mother?” her father yelled. “I called her.”
“S-she went to bed,” (Y/N) whimpered. “Her head had been hurting all day, and I told her I would stay up to wait for you.”
“And what could a good-for-nothing freeloader do for me?” he spat, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to move to the couch. "Wake your mother up. Tell her I want some kimchi-jjigae.”
Anger bubbled inside the girl. Her mother's words swirled in her head. “Don't anger your father,” she had said. “You know how he gets when he drinks.” Yet, it wasn't just the alcohol that made him a bad man. It was his blatant disrespect for his wife and his family. Long gone was the little girl who wanted nothing more than to make him smile; make him laugh. Her happiest moment with him had been when she had graduated from elementary school with the highest marks, and he'd said he was proud of her. But years had passed since then, and the father she had known was now the monster she had to survive.
“Are you stupid?” the man exclaimed as (Y/N) remained frozen in her place, tears of rage brimming on the corners of her eyes. His gaze had turned scorching, taking her resistance as defiance. He crossed the distance between them, poking harshly the healing mark he had left on her face a week before. “I said, are you fucking stupid? Wake your mother up. NOW! I'm hungry.”
“Why don't you ask that bitch you were seeing to make you some food?” The words came out of her mouth long before she could process them or even stop them. They burned her tongue, scorching their way into existence and setting off a reaction she had no control over. “Matter of fact, maybe you should just go and be with her.”
The slap echoed inside the house, reverberating against the walls as (Y/N) fell to the ground from the force. The taste of iron filled her mouth as her teeth vibrated from the strike. She was frozen in shock, unable to distance herself from him before he landed a kick on her stomach. “Say that again, you ungrateful brat,” he spat. “Should have never let your mother keep you. You and your brother are just disappointments. At least he'll make something of his life. You will always just be a burden.”
(Y/N) wasn't sure what stung more, the words her father had said or the subsequent kicks he landed on her side. She didn't get up from the ground or cover herself from the attack; she couldn't. Her mind had seemed to shut down, freezing under the realization of just how deep her father's hate went.
He had raised her once to believe in fairytales. In a world where love was given by the spoonful. It didn't have to be earned or demanded; it didn't harm or destroy. But somewhere along the line, that love had run out, replaced by a deep-rooted disdain that had lain dormant until it had taken over. (Y/N) knew her father hated her; she just never knew how much.
At some point, the hits ceased. Her mind was hazy, blurred by the thoughts swirling in her head and the tears that clouded her eyes. She could hear her mother begging the man to stop, pulling him away toward the kitchen to create distance between her husband and the girl. The woman tried everything to diffuse the situation, to simmer the man's anger until it singed quietly. It was a dance she had done for too many years, too many times. It was second nature. It was survival.
Once she saw the opportunity, (Y/N) ran out of the house. Her body screamed with every step she took, begging her not to move. But her brain did not let her stop. She had to get away. That wasn't the first time she had run away when her father had come home reeking of booze and bad decisions. She often put distance between herself and that monster, unable to withstand his anger and disdain. She'd even gone with Hu-min to Gotak's home after some particularly loud and violent arguments.
Yet, there was something different in the air that night. His words stung a little more; his hits were a little more determined. There was a certain air of conviction emanating from the man, as though he'd been contemplating his choices for a long time. Deep down, (Y/N) knew if her mother had not been there that night, her situation would have turned dire.
The girl didn't stop until she was blocks away from her home. She reached the park she frequented, leaning against a tree as her lungs burned for air. As her body settled, the pain started to bubble to the surface. Her ribs were in agony, and the taste of blood made her stomach churn. With her tongue, she felt the gash her teeth had left on her lip. The cut was deep, still oozing as she dabbed it with her t-shirt.
“Here,” Baku said breathlessly as he handed her a handkerchief. “Try to dry it as much as you can. I'll clean it after.”
She hadn't realized he had followed her. Too focused on getting away, her brain had not registered the boy calling for her as she sped down the hill they lived on. She allowed her legs to carry her until she couldn't run any longer, then, and only then, was she able to register anything other than her escape.
Hu-min led her to a bench where he inspected the cut on her lip. Silently, he got to work. He started with the red mark on her cheek. It looked angry, so pooled with blood it already looked bruised. Gently, he spread ointment on her skin, his heart wrenching as she flinched at his touch. It was instinctive, but it hurt him. He couldn't stand the way she cowered from his hand, even if it was for a second. The mere thought of ever being the reason she was scared made his stomach drop. “Let me know if it hurts too much,” he whispered as he finished. “I can go get a compress or something.”
“No,” she whimpered. “Don't go.”
“Never,” the boy promised. His hand cradled her cheek, softly wiping away the tears that fell down her skin. “I’ll always be here for you.”
The corners of her mouth pulled into a small smile, stretching as far as they could without ripping the wound open again. “Thank you,” she sniffled. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I didn’t think tonight would be this bad.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Hu-min cooed. “I just can’t believe your mom doesn’t get you out of that house.”
“It’s not that simple, Baku,” she sighed. “She hasn't lived an easy life.”
(Y/N) narrated her mother's story. She spoke of the poverty she grew up in, the lack of opportunities, and just how hard she had to work to give them what little they had. The girl related the stories of the woman's first husband, the man who had been a half of her brother—a man she only knew of from her mother’s words. He had died when the boy was only two, leaving his wife with a mountain of debt and a young child to take care of. She told Baku about the cold winter they had spent on the streets, hiding in café bathrooms and curling up together in apartment stairwells to keep warm. The bills had gotten too high, and the money coming in was simply not enough for the two of them to survive. The spring after was when her mother met the man who had given her life.
Daddy stuck around but he wasn't present
Cheated on your mom but she never left him
First I didn't get it, now I understand
He broke her heart, left money in her hands
So everything got paid for
At first, she had been told, he was an exemplary man. He took care of her brother as though he were his own and had given her mother something she had not had for a long time, a warm bed and a roof over their heads. The man was a provider, the one thing her mother had yearned for while she did her best to keep her child alive. There had been nights when he would come home drunk and get too physical—the way her mother had phrased it—and maybe the thought of leaving him had crossed her mind. But when that feeling popped into her head, the woman had found out she was pregnant with a new ray of sunshine, her little (Y/N). She had gone through the worst situations with one of her kids, and she would do everything in her power to never let it happen again.
She made sure you and your brother had way more
Than she ever had growing up
But when you told me the whole story, I felt like throwing up
When the girl was born, her father had seemingly become a changed man. He was over the moon with the thought of having a daughter, going as far as proposing to his partner so their child could be raised in a united and loving home. And they had a good few years together after she was born, where they had been fed love in the form of grandiose promises and kindness so sweet they didn’t know it could be real.
“Little did we know it wasn’t,” she sniffled. “He married my mom when I was six years old. After that, he slowly started to change. He started staying out late almost every night, coming home drunk. One day, I was helping her with the laundry, and there was a red lipstick stain on the neck of his shirt—my mom never wore red lipstick. I told her to confront him, that he had no right to be with other women.”
Her eyes stared off at the distance, her mind forming an image as clear as the day she had witnessed it. She didn't notice Baku beside her. The way his chin trembled as he took his lip between his teeth, trying his best not to cry. She spoke of her past as though it was normal, like she deserved the hardships she'd gone through simply because she had been born. It made his stomach turn to think of all the things she had been through from such a young age, how she had become used to the pain and the abuse because it had begun so long ago.
I could see it on your face, it was rough
Left a bad taste on your tongue
And she didn't even take any drugs
She would rain all day, couldn't wait for her sun to shine
And you made it shine
There when she cried, you saved her life
“I still remember the look on her face when I said that,” (Y/N) sighed. “Her eyes were so sad, but ultimately, she seemed resigned. It wasn't new information for her, clearly. She told me to ignore it, to never bring it up in front of him. Back then, I didn’t get it, but I do now. He gives her the one thing she wasn't able to have—financial and housing stability. I just can’t help it sometimes, and I always end up making him mad. Maybe I should just learn to keep my mouth shut.”
“It’s not your fault,” Baku quickly stated, his voice breaking as it escaped his mouth. She let out a tearful chuckle, sure to object to his words. But they died the moment Hu-min cradled her face between his hands, his thumb wiping away the tears that stained her skin. “None of it is your fault, (Y/N).”
“I should have kept quiet,” she argued quietly. “I have to.”
“Listen to me, (Y/N),” he said. “You do not have to fear that man—not while I'm around. I promise I will do everything in my power to get you out of there, okay? You and your mom.”
“No, Hu-min, don't put that on yourself,” the girl cried. “We aren't your responsibility.”
“You became my responsibility the moment I realized I was in love with you,” he admitted, the confession rolling off his tongue faster than his brain could process it. He only realized when (Y/N)'s eyes widened and her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “I... uh, that's not...”
“Y-you're in love w-with me?” she stammered, her voice breaking as new tears formed in her eyes. “S-since when?”
“From the moment I met you,” he sheepishly answered, his signature smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It's okay if you don't feel the same way. I've been wanting to tell you how I feel for a long time, but I've never been able to find the right time. I'm sorry it came out this way. I...”
His rambling was interrupted as a burst of confidence surged inside (Y/N), and she crashed her lips onto his. Instantly, the boy melted into the kiss, ignoring the taste of antiseptic cream and iron and focusing solely on her. He pulled her in gently, finding the small space between them far too big for the moment. Every move he made was soft and deliberate, too afraid of hurting her more than she already was. The kiss was perfect—slow but passionate. Hu-min did not want it to end. Not when her hands snaked around his neck to pull him in. Not when she let out a small whimper, and he was able to sneak his tongue past her lips. Not when his hands kneaded the skin of her hips.
Unfortunately for him, they were still human, and they needed to breathe. “That was...” he grinned goofily. “Wow.”
“If it wasn't clear,” (Y/N) smiled, as she panted between words, “I feel the same way, Baku. I honestly don't know where I'd be without you.”
“And to think I came out all this way to comfort you,” he said. “How is it that you're the one who's made me happy?”
“I am happy, Baku,” she replied. “You have no idea how happy I am right now.”
“Good,” the boy mused. “Because I'm planning to make you happy for the rest of our lives. I hope you're ready, ‘cause you will never be able to get rid of me.”
At that moment, Hu-min had meant it. Truthfully, he did. But he hadn't expected life to get in his way, much less that he would find himself working for Baek-jin and the Union. The boy had known exactly how to get Baku to comply with his demands. He went after his father—having the man thrown in jail was only a warning. He went after his friends after—hurting them seemed to be his go-to. Once that wasn’t enough, he pulled the one card he knew would send him straight to the Union.
Getting suspended so quickly again was not in his plans. But Baku could not handle the rage that filled him as his ex-best friend’s minions sent his father to jail. His legs and his fists moved before his head could process what he was doing, and before he knew it, the boys were beaten almost unconscious. Getting suspended for defending his family didn’t hurt, but his father’d had enough. Without knowing he’d been forced to stay at home, the man thought his son was skipping school for no reason.
Go ahead and cry, little boy
You know that your daddy did too
You know what your mama went through
You gotta let it out soon, just let it out
As the boy read yet another menacing text from Baek-jin, the man slammed open his door, chastising him over missing days. Being sick wasn’t a good enough excuse for his father, and he let him know through threats and insults. For a moment, Baku even believed he would slap him. Anger bubbled inside him, rising to the surface as everything he had swallowed threatened to escape. Everything he was doing was to keep him and his friend safe, but his father made him question just how worth accepting Baek-jin’s demands was. Si-eun, Jun-tae, and Gotak were big enough reasons. His father? The boy still wasn’t sure.
But (Y/N)? She was his biggest incentive. Baek-jin had not mentioned her at that point, but Hu-min could feel it in his bones that it was only a matter of time. He just couldn’t know how quickly it would happen.
He stormed out of his room as his father finished insulting him, forcing the boy to rethink the protectiveness he still felt toward the abusive man. Rage made his limbs tingle, forcing his hands into fists as he made his way out. Yet, something stopped him before he could make it down the steps. A certain someone who was rushing up the concrete stairs, her face tinted red and her chest heaving from a lack of breath.
“(Y-Y/N),” he stammered, his eyes widening in surprise. “What’re you doing here?”
“I h-heard your dad yelling at you,” the girl responded, panting. “I wasn’t sure what was happening; all I heard was yelling. I thought… I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Were you just gonna barge in there? Alone?” Hu-min said, an amused smile tugging at his mouth as he led her down the steps with an arm around her shoulders. “My girl is so brave.”
“It’s just… you’ve been a little distant these past few days,” she muttered. “I thought something bad was happening at home, and I couldn’t bear the thought.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, (Y/N),” he said, but his voice betrayed him. There was a tone pitch that did not go unnoticed by her. Accompanied by the slight furrow of his brow and the tiredness in his eyes, she knew there was something weighing heavily on his shoulders. “There are just a couple of things I need to handle.”
“Baku…”
“I’m okay,” the boy smiled before placing a kiss on her forehead. “You should go get some rest, though. I think I’m gonna go out for a walk to clear my head.”
“I’ll go with you,” she offered.
Panic filled his mouth with bile. Baek-jin was growing restless as he waited for his answer, and the closer she was, the easier a target she became. “Your dad’s still out on his business trip,” he said. “You should use this time to rest. Enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind keeping you company.”
“I’m sure.” He forced himself to smile as he cradled her cheeks and softly pecked her lips. “Dream pretty things, yeah?”
“Alright, fine,” she smiled brightly, looking up at him like he’d put the stars in the sky. “Will you come over tonight?”
“I’ll try.”
As much as he wanted to, Baku didn’t sneak into her room that night. Instead, he spent that time beating up a kid under strict instructions of the boy he had once thought of as a brother. He had found Hu-min’s weakness, sticking the knife deeply in his back and twisting. Everything he had vowed to protect hung by a thin thread, and Baek-jin took a knife to it all through a phone call.
“Make your decision. I won’t ask twice,” Baek-jin had threatened. “Your dad, your friends… ah, and that girl. What was her name? (Y/N)?”
Her name slipped too easily from his tongue and Baku’s grip on his phone tightened. Baek-jin knew who she was and knew just how important she was to him. The boy knew Hu-min better than anyone else in the world. Sometimes he believed he was inside his mind. Using her was his last Hail Mary, and it was exactly what he needed to make his resolution shatter. “I’m the only one who can give you what you want,” the boy stated. “No one else. You said you’d do whatever I want. I’ll do whatever you want, too.”
Baku had started skipping school then, too exhausted to focus and too ashamed to face his friends. It was easier to face his father; he was used to the man’s wrath. But he couldn’t handle the look of disappointment in any of his friends’ eyes, much less in hers. In those days, he was riddled with shame and guilt. At night, he was forced to be anywhere but home, where he could protect (Y/N). Hu-min couldn't even bring himself to see her the next day for fear of her anger, much less her discontent. He had failed her, and he had broken, yet again, another promise.
He thought he was doing the right thing. Pushing the people he loved away to keep them from getting in the middle of his never-ending war with Baek-jin. He couldn’t bear making them casualties in their unresolved business. But he forgot he couldn’t control everything.
Si-eun, Jun-tae, and Gotak did not accept Hu-min’s disappearance. They were physically unable to stay away while they knew Baku was under Baek-jin’s control. They got in the way, they got hurt. Still, they did everything in their power to help the boy realize protecting them was not his responsibility, at least not one he had to carry on his own. He still had to be strong, but he could do it with his friends by his side.
After a long, defeating night, Hu-min made it back home. Si-eun’s hospitalization weighed heavily on his mind, but he tried his best to keep his guilt at bay. His accident had nothing to do with Baek-jin and the Union; he kept reminding himself. It had simply been an unfortunate accident. The heaviness of the past weeks dragged him down, and all he wanted was to lie on his bed and sleep for as long as he could.
But (Y/N)’s father had other plans.
“Why the fuck do I keep finding these goddamn cigarettes outside?” the man yelled as he threw used buds at (Y/N)’s face. “Who gave you permission to have that good-for-nothing guy hanging around?”
“Do you hear yourself? Are you crazy?” the girl argued. “I don’t hang around anyone who smokes. And the last thing I would do is bring them here.”
“Yeah? And what about that boy?” he pushed, his voice slurring as the alcohol coursed through his veins. “The one with the glasses and the tracksuit.”
“Who? I don’t even know anyone like that.”
“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you brat!” her father exclaimed, pushing her hard toward the wall. The bookcase next to her rattled, sending a picture frame to the ground. “You’re just a useless slut like your mother. Better not get pregnant like she did, or you’re out of here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the girl yelled, holding the shoulder that slammed against the surface. “I haven’t done anything!”
“Stop lying!” the man spat, slapping her across the face. As she stumbled from the force, he grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. “I have enough with having to pay for you to live. I won’t waste my money on another useless mouth to feed.”
“Then maybe you should go live with that other woman,” the girl muttered. “Or maybe you should get rid of me for once. It’s not my fault I was born, and it’s not my fault you hate me so much.”
(Y/N) could see anger building on her father’s face, painting it a deep shade of red. She knew she shouldn’t have egged him on; her mother had asked her as much. Agreeing and apologizing was an easier way to survive the rest of the time she had to live in the home. But she couldn’t help herself—not when all he could do was bring out the worst in her.
“You really are an ungrateful brat,” he spewed, raising his hand as far back as he could. “I’m gonna show you how to respect your father.”
She braced herself for the blow, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could before he sent her to the ground. But the slap never came, and the fall never happened. Slowly, she fluttered her eyes open, her breath hitching in her throat as she witnessed Hu-min grabbing her father’s wrist with a gaze full of wrath she had never seen before.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, kid?” her father yelled. “Let go of me!”
“I’m the one stopping you from hurting your daughter for the millionth time,” Baku spat. “Not that you even deserve the title of father, and much less to claim (Y/N) as your daughter.”
“Are you the one then, huh?!” the man slobbered. “You’re the one who has been smoking in my front door and sneaking into my house to see my slut of a daughter?”
“Don’t call her that.” His tone was pointed, the words escaping through gritted teeth and a tense jaw. There was fire in the boy’s eyes, and he didn’t care to not let it burn.
“Just be careful with girls like her,” he chuckled. “She’s the kind to get pregnant and keep you stuck for the rest of your life.”
The next thing Baku did wasn’t talk. He towered over the man already in stature, but once he was on the ground, the young boy looked like a giant. Hu-min had pushed the man back, making him lose his footing and collide against the floor. Her father's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't dare to fight back—not when Baku looked the way he did. He dug into his pockets, pulling out a few stray bills and throwing them at him. “Why don't you go out and get yourself another drink?” he spat. “It's the only thing you can do right.”
Without another word, Baku grabbed (Y/N)'s wrist and led her to her room, quickly locking the door behind him. Once inside, he let out the breath he was holding and turned to the girl, cradling her face as he inspected her for any injuries. “Are you okay?” he worried, trying his best to wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop. “Where does it hurt?”
“It doesn't,” she cried. “I just... you're here.”
“I’m sorry I haven't been,” he said sadly. “I promised I would protect you and I...”
“It's okay,” (Y/N) smiled, tears still falling rapidly from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him in for a tight hug. All she cared about was that he was back and, more importantly, that he was okay. “You're here now. That's all I need.”
Baku stared at her in disbelief. He thought he was in for a reckoning. At the very least, he expected her to push him away. But she simply brought him closer. “But I...”
“Your friends came by,” she muttered against his chest. “You have nothing to apologize for. You were protecting everyone, even if it isn't your job, Hu-min. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about.”
Tears fell from Baku's cheeks then. He circled (Y/N)'s neck with his arms, pressing her as against him as he possibly could. Instantly, the cold that had settled in his bones for the past weeks melted, replaced instead by the warmth he'd always felt in her presence. His heart steadied, and his breathing evened. In her arms, he was at peace.
“Has it been hard?” the boy asked in a whisper. “The time I've been away, has he done anything?”
“He hasn't been home as much this week since mom left to visit my brother,” she sighed. They sank to the floor, using her bed as back support. Instinctively, Baku wrapped an arm around her shoulders, resting her head on his. “Most of the time, I've been locking myself in my room. I've even started using the dresser as a barricade since he's weaker when he's blackout drunk.”
“I should have been here. I should have...”
“Stop, Hu-min,” she said as she placed a hand on his chest. “This is not your responsibility. Sometimes you forget, but you're also just a kid. Going after my dad is not gonna change who he is. What you did tonight was reckless, and you could have gotten hurt.”
“(Y/N)...”
“It was,” the girl affirmed. “But thank you. You didn't have to save me, but you did. So, thank you.”
And if you were my little girl
I'd do whatever I could do
I'd run away and hide with you
I know that you got daddy issues
“You don't have to thank me,” he smiled, kissing the top of her head. “I just don't understand how any parent could do that to their kid. If you were my little girl, I wouldn't let the world touch you. Nothing and no one would ever be able to cause you pain or harm. You would only know the good things in life.”
(Y/N) smiled then. The tears had finally stopped, and she allowed herself to close her eyes. She pictured the life Hu-min spoke of. A world where she had not cut herself on the knife her father had called love; where her mother had seen a better path for herself, one where she didn't have to walk in fear; where she had never known the sting of the palm of a man who was supposed to protect her. It was the same world Baku deserved, even if he wouldn't admit it. A life without knowing the pain of having to grow up because the adults around you refuse to. A life where he could simply be a kid—not a provider, not a protector, not anything other than a kid.
She wanted that for them. A world where happiness wasn't simply an idea, but a given right. Yet, she didn't know if in that life they would have gotten the chance to meet. (Y/N) had found her happiness in Hu-min, a boy who didn't know how not to carry the world on his shoulders. He was one of the only people who showed her that love did not have to be earned through blood, sweat, and tears; that it could be given without asking much in return.
As she listened to him talk, the tears finally stopped, stretching a satisfied smile across Hu-min's face. “That's what I like to see,” he mused. “That beautiful smile.”
Go ahead and cry, little girl
Nobody does it like you do
I know how much it matters to you
I know that you got daddy issues (And I do too)
“I bet you're tired of me crying every time you see me,” she chucked sadly. “And it's always about the same thing. I'm sorry you have to deal with me.”
“Don't ever apologize for that, (Y/N),” Baku said. “Go ahead and cry all you want. Heaven knows just how much I have cried about the same things. I love you, jagiya, and I promise I'll never leave you alone in this ever again.”
“I love you too, Hu-min,” (Y/N) beamed, her eyes glimmering with something other than tears. “I still can't believe it's our daddy issues that brought us together.”
“I'd like to believe we were always meant to meet,” he smiled. “Regardless of who our parents are, it was always gonna end up being me and you.”
That night, he rested. Even if it was only a few hours before the sun shone brightly on his face, forcing him to blink himself away, he rested. Waking up with her in his arms, watching as her chest rose and fell with her even breathing, he finally understood what he was fighting for. And there was no way he would allow the Union or Baek-jin to take anything from him, especially not her.
A/N: i really hope i did this request justice. I mixed both versions of the song for the storytelling, thought it was better that way. I know I made this veeeery angsty, but at least it has a happy ending. thank you for trusting me with the story 🫣😬 if you see any grammar errors, no you don't. english is not my first language and sometimes things escape me but do let me know if I missed any warnings please
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OHHHMYYYGOODDD THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS FIC. I HAVE AN EXAM RN BUT IT CAN WAIT. THIS SHOOK ME TOO THE CORE.
also from someone who had once dealt with something like this, this FIC was really comforting for me. Thank you so much for considering my request and writing it. 💕
