Miki

23 ~ carat, nswer, atiny, stay

[thelastunicornot8]

Man on Fire K.HJ

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Serial Killer!Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: thriller, smut

Authors Note: This is an extremely dark fictional work featuring a serial-killer version of Hongjoong. He is intentionally portrayed as cruel, violent, sexually abusive, manipulative, and morally reprehensible, particularly in the earlier portions of the story. The fic explores an eventual romantic attachment between a captor and captive and does not depict a healthy or realistic relationship. Please read the warnings carefully and proceed at your own discretion.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS:Serial killer AU, kidnapping/abduction, stalking, captivity, graphic violence, murder/death, strangulation/asphyxiation, physical assault, blood, threats with a weapon, restraints/bondage in a non-consensual context, forced nudity, sexual violence, rape/non-con, explicit sexual content, sexual coercion, forced sexual acts, victim blaming, manipulation/gaslighting, involuntary physiological arousal during sexual assault, psychological abuse, obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic relationship dynamics, Stockholm-syndrome-adjacent themes/trauma bonding, morally reprehensible protagonist, and eventual romantic/sexual relationship between captor and captive.

Ch 1

“Aw, shit,” Hongjoong griped as he bent down to pick up the remainder of the broken beaded bracelet. He had spent the last five minutes collecting the beads that had rolled all across his bedroom floor and of course, when he was sure that he had found and secured the last one and moved to dump them into the large black garbage bag in the middle of the floor, he’d tripped and sent them all flying again. He glanced over to see what it was that he’d stumbled over and sighed. A running shoe. He picked it up and tossed it into the bag before moving on to collect the beads again.  “You know,” he called up to the young lady that lay in his bed, “you’re proving to be more trouble than you were worth.” The girl didn’t respond. Her big, doe-like eyes were glued to the ceiling. When he found the last bead, he counted them just to be sure. Twenty-three, the same as before. He rolled the beads around in his hands, listening to them clack against one another. Maybe I should record this sound and sample it, he thought, glancing over at the soundboard on his computer desk. I bet I could make something good out of it. He shoved a few beads into his pocket before tossing the rest into the bag. “Thanks for the inspiration,” he said, strolling over to the bed. He hovered there for a moment, peering into the girl’s face before reaching out to slide her eyelids closed. “Why do you all do that?” he huffed. “It creeps me out.”

He went about tidying the room up again, glad that the only real mess left was the pieces of the bedside lamp that lay scattered across the floor. He really wished that he hadn’t had to use it, but it was the only thing that he’d been able to reach at the time. “I’m going to have to buy another lamp,” he grumbled as he swept up the pieces and tossed them into the same bag as the other garbage. “I don’t even remember where I bought it from.”

He looked back at the girl again, Lucinda. It was her fault that things had turned out the way they did. He hadn’t planned on ending her stay with him so quickly, but she had managed to escape the handcuffs and had been throwing things around the room in an effort to get away from him. When he saw her going for his sound board, he grabbed the nearest thing to him, the lamp, and smashed it against her head. He honestly hadn’t thought that it would kill her, but the human body was strange in that way. What would only injure one person might end another. She had been one of the weak ones.

When he’d been watching her weeks ago, she’d seemed healthy enough. She had the same routine every day of the week. She’d get up early and go for a jog around 6am; Hongjoong liked following her along her route. He’d jog a few yards behind with his shades pulled down over his eyes. She never even looked at him once. After her jog, she’d go to a café and order the same thing. Egg bread and an iced americano. Then she’d go to work and he would park himself in the café across the street to work on his laptop until she got off. She always went to the gym after work for an hour to do some light lifting. And then she’d go home. He’d see her through her third-floor apartment window. Undressing. Turning in for bed. She never wavered from the routine.

Except for weekends. She’d kept him on his toes on the weekends. She didn’t go to the gym. In its place she would call friends and go on little adventures with them. Hiking, the mall, whatever.  He hated the weekends. It was much harder to stay inconspicuous with even one extra person with her. He never knew how perceptive any of them might have been, but she had been just as oblivious to his presence as the others before her. The weekend that had just passed had given him the chance he needed to snatch her. She had been sick and hadn’t had any visitors. When she left the apartment in the evening, he’d followed her to the drug store and waited in his car for her on a side street, pulling her in as she’d passed by.

“Well,” he sighed, “there will be no more of that.” He eyed the lamp on the other nightstand. He had bought them as a set, and now one was broken. “May as well get rid of this one too.” He picked up the lamp and used his gloved hand to wipe the nonexistent layer of dust off of the nightstand before tossing the lamp into the bag. “And now, Lucinda,” he said, turning back to the corpse on his bed as he began to pull off his clothes. He was wearing one of his favorite shirts. He didn’t want to risk staining it. “You.”

He took her by one of her arms and pulled her upright, using the bed to help hoist her limp body up onto his shoulder before carrying her into the bathroom and letting her flop with a dull thud into the tub. He slipped his arms under hers and positioned her upright. Opening the cabinet under the sink, he retrieved the knife he kept there and inspected it. Still sharp. Good. He turned the faucet on cold and went about his work with practiced efficiency. It took a while, and it wasn’t pleasant, but it was important. Cut. Drain. Wash. Every step of cleanup had a purpose. He had learned not to rush the process.

Hauling the first bag was easy. He loaded it into the trunk of his car, which he had already lined with thick plastic the day he’d picked her. One less thing to do on what he called “Bag Day.” He shoved the bag into the trunk beside the several bags of high nitrogen fertilizer he kept on hand and returned upstairs to collect Lucinda. He triple-bagged her, as he always did, and placed her into the trunk, shutting it before turning back into the house to clean himself up a bit. He checked himself in the bathroom mirror, wiping away a few speckles of blood that dotted his face and went down the checklist. Hair groomed. Body unblemished. Clothes clean. Heading back into the bedroom, he gazed over it once more to ensure that everything was in its proper place before setting his cell phone on the dresser, and heading back outside to climb into the car.

He rode with the windows up and the radio off. The air outside was much too cool for him to be able to enjoy the breeze, and he needed silence to think about his schedule tomorrow. He had to meet with Jiren at the studio in the morning and didn’t know how long he would be busy with that, but he’d have to make sure he made time to go to the furniture store and find some new lamps when he left or he was sure he wouldn’t get around to it until the weekend. He wasn’t too keen on waiting that long. His room was unbalanced without them.

 The roads were far less busy in the evening, but not so much so that he would look out of place. He took the quickest route out of the city to Gapyeong county, where there were several logging sites, a few of which had been abandoned long ago. He found that he could go about his business there undisturbed. The town was quiet. A few stragglers meandered around in the moonlight, but most had turned in for the night. He cut the headlights as he turned onto the gravel road that would lead him up into the dense forest and rolled slowly, listening to the rhythmic crunch of the tiny pebbles beneath his tires. It was hard to see where he was going, but the moon and his memory served him well.

He came upon the familiar pile of tree trunks, branches, and discarded topsoil. Exactly the way he left it. It loomed in the dark, casting long shadows. He popped the trunk and hopped out of the car to retrieved the shovel that he kept in one of his old guitar cases from the back seat and strode over to the mass of dead trees. He walked around it a few times until he found a good spot in a gap between two logs at the base of the pile, and started digging. Once he’d created a decently sized horizontal divot in the earth beneath the logs, he went back over to the car and pulled Lucinda out, dragging the bag across the ground rather than attempting to lift it and risk injuring himself. He’d done that once before and ended up pulling a muscle. It had taken him almost two weeks to recover. Digging into his back pocket, he pulled out the box cutter that he always kept with him and sliced into the thick plastic layers at the base of the bag, gripping the top and pulling until Lucinda slumped out and rolled unceremoniously into the hole. “Ok,” he said, sighing. “The hard part is over.”

Walking back over to the car, he retrieved the bags of fertilizer and carried them one by one over to the hole. Using the box cutter again, he tore the bags open and spread the pellets across Lucinda, making sure to cover every square inch of her. The fertilizer was tried and true. Reliable. Bags empty, he made quick work of covering the area up with topsoil, wood, and leaves. When he was sure that nobody would notice the disturbance if they were to pass by in the daylight, he returned the shovel to the guitar case and slid back into his car. He waited until he was on the main road to turn his headlights back on. All there was left to do was shower, settle into bed for the night and respond to any texts or calls he might have missed. He was exhausted. Work the next day was going to be brutal. He was going to need all the coffee he could drink.

His grip on the wheel was tight as he drove home. His jaw clenched. It wasn’t supposed to happen so fast. She had ruined everything with her antics. He’d planned to keep her for a few more days before evicting her from his bed. Having to dispose of her so soon and go home to an empty house left him feeling unfulfilled. He could feel the familiar itch already clawing at his brain. The one that made his skin tingle and his inside ache. the one that told him that he needed to go back out. That he needed to find another.

“Good morning!” Jiren met Hongjoong at the door of the building, two coffees in hand. Hongjoong smiled as he grabbed the one that was labeled as black with no cream or sugar.

“Good morning. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Jiren replied, unable to hide his excitement. The two of them had been working on a beat for the past week. It was the last one they needed to finish the album they’d been asked to collaborate on. Jiren thought that it sounded great. Hongjoong disagreed. It was missing something, and he was having the damnedest time figuring out what. “Did you get any brilliant ideas last night?”

“So, actually… no. No, I did not.” Hongjoong’s brow furrowed. He’d planned on sitting down at home and tinkering around with the beat a little the night before, but Lucinda had apparently had other ideas. “I didn’t get the chance to.”

“You’re always so busy,” Jiren said, pressing the button to call the elevator. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Nope.”

They stepped onto the elevator when the doors slid open and Hongjoong sipped at his coffee, willing himself to focus on Jiren as he prattled on about the bridge. He was convinced that they were only a couple of tweaks away from it being perfect. Hongjoong let him talk while the beat replayed in his head. The mix was muddy. The kick was being swallowed by the low end. And the chorus was still not landing. His foot tapped quietly against the floor as he tore it apart in his head. “…And maybe we could automate the filter into the second chorus.”

“Huh?”

“The second chorus,” Jiren repeated. “What do you think?”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Hongjoong smiled apologetically. “I spaced out for a second there. Can you say that again?”

“Oh no worries, man. It’s cool. It can wait until after you’ve had your coffee.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

He pulled up the track immediately when they got settled in the studio, poring over the various parts. Taking this out. Putting that in. Bringing that forward. Cutting the reverb. Jiren sat in the chair beside him, watching quietly. He knew by the look on Hongjoong’s face that he was elbows deep, and he knew better than to disturb him while he was in that mode. Hongjoong sat back in the chair with his eyes closed, running his hands through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. He glared at the computer screen. The track seemed to be refusing to cooperate with him. Jiren shuffled around in his seat, clearing his throat.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asked, spinning around in his chair to face Jiren. “You have an idea?”

“Not especially,” Jiren shrugged. “It’s just, I don’t hear what the problem is.” He leaned forward in the seat, observing the computer screens. “The track sounds fine to me. I like it. I don’t know why you don’t.” Hongjoong took another sip of his coffee, swallowing his irritation along with it.

“It doesn’t have that wow factor that I’m looking for,” he responded. “It’s getting under my skin.” He shoved his hand in his pants pocket to roll the beads from Lucinda’s bracelet around his fingers as he made a mental list of all the tweaks he had already tried. He was chasing the solution, but it kept escaping him.

“Maybe your head just isn’t in it today,” Jiren said reassuringly. “It’s ok, you know. We can call it a day and just take another crack at it tomorrow if you want to. I’ve got some stuff I wanted to do today, anyway.” Hongjoong stared at the computer screen, only barely hearing Jiren as he spoke. He wasn’t leaving. Not until he figured out what was wrong. He still toyed around with the beads in his pocket; when they clacked together, the idea struck him.

“Wait a second, Jiren. I think I have it.” Jiren, who had already stood up to gather his things and leave, turned to slide back down into the chair beside him.

“Let’s see.” He set his bag down on the floor and leaned in. Hongjoong clicked some buttons and moved a few sliders before he pressed play. When the music began pouring through the speakers, Jiren nodded excitedly. “Ahhh,” he grinned, shooting Hongjoong a look of approval. “This is it.” Hongjoong smiled back, nodding in agreement.

“Yes. This is it.” The sound was much crisper, cleaner than before. The chorus had finally earned its keep. Hongjoong bopped his head along with the track, listening for any more discrepancies. He gave the beads a light squeeze and took his hand out of his pocket to rest atop his leg as he rolled away from the desk. “I think it sounds perfect now.”

“It was perfect before,” Jiren said, “but this is somehow even better. I don’t know how you do that.”

“Sometimes inspiration just hits me over the head.” Hongjoong smiled politely as he stood up and pushed his chair back under the desk.

“So, we’re good to go now?”

“I think so.”

“Great!” Jiren clapped his hands together. “You’ll send it off to mastering, then?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Hongjoong watched Jiren as he gleefully collected his things again, bopping his head around to the track that was still playing.

“We’ve done it again,” he said.

“Yeah.” Hongjoong smirked. Sure, Jiren had helped with the track, he always did. But his ear was never quite able to catch the things that Hongjoong could. If it was left solely up to Jiren, the things they produced would be passable. With Hongjoong, passable was never good enough. He leaned over the desk chair and quickly exported the track, sending it out to their mastering team. It was always his least favorite part, putting the final stage of the process into someone else’s hands. He’d have to learn how to master some day, too.

Jiren uttered a quick goodbye when he was already halfway out the studio door. He clearly had somewhere else he would rather be. Hongjoong understood the sentiment completely. Now that the track was done, he could get to the furniture store. He shut down the computers before putting his jacket on, pausing long enough to straighten the crooked keyboard on the desk before he shut off the lights and stepped out into the bright hall, locking the studio door behind him.

The sun was high when he pulled out of the parking garage and turned onto the busy street. Hongjoong pulled the sun visor out to shield his eyes and unrolled his windows to let the warm summer breeze in. He glanced down at the car clock; it was still pretty early in the afternoon. Good. He would go find some new lamps and still have time to deal with the bag of Lucinda’s belongings. Those things never went out with the body. Never.

Pulling up to a red light, he watched as a small group of pedestrians crossed. A young woman lagged behind everyone else, typing fervently on her phone as she walked slowly in front of him. She didn’t even notice when the light turned green and cars began to honk at her. Oblivious. He imagined how easy it would be to snatch her. Her face would be glued to her phone. He could just…take her. It would be effortless. He could feel the itch again, prickling at his brain as he followed her with his eyes. No. He tore his eyes away from the back of her head. Lamps. Lucinda’s things. Home. He banished the feeling as best he could and continued up the road. The furniture store was only a few blocks away.

There were hardly any people in the furniture store when he walked through the double doors. A couple debating about a couch. An older woman with a stern face and sharp eyes lingering by the dining sets. A man in a business suit standing in front of the adjustable mattresses. Hongjoong headed straight for the lighting section, shaking his head when he was asked by a staff member if he needed help. He didn’t need a sales pitch. When he turned into the aisle with the lamps, his eyes immediately rested on the only other person in the aisle. A woman. He slowed his pace, observing her as she picked at the skin of her lip with her teeth before shifting his eyes to see what she was staring so intently at. It was a small lamp. Round silver base, sunflower yellow shade. The stem was the most interesting part; it zigzagged back and forth, almost like a lightning bolt. If there was another one just like it, they would be perfect.

He strode over to the lamp, pretending to be interested in one of the other lamps near to it. He would wait until the girl moved on to claim the lamp for himself. He traced the stem of the other lamp with his finger, repeatedly glancing over at the girl while deciding if the lamp he was in front of now could serve his purpose. No. He had already settled on the yellow one that she was looking at. If there was a pair, he would have them. The young lady noticed him peering over at her and offered a kind smile. “It’s hard picking the right one, isn’t it?” she asked.

Next Ch

[yuyueater]

𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨 — 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; Headcanons on how I view Jongho as a stalker.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; Stalker!Jongho x Fem!Reader.

☆ — 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 308. ☆ — 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Smut — DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. ☆ — 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Tracking, social media digging, jail, obsessed!jongho, breaking and entering, stealing, needy!jongho, unconsensual picture taking,befriending y/n’s family, jerking off, and mention of kidnapping.

♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @eunseoksgirl @threepointstogrifendor @mingkisdoll @groovyravenagain @matznana @smuttaburger @barbtiny @yeosangholic1 @maliabobea15 @pyuddings @mourninglizzy send a ask to be added or removed!

A/N — Last post of the week….see y’all Sunday…(I’m lying, I always post Yunho’s post early).

Stalker!jongho who moves neighborhoods just to be closer to you, he just wants to keep an eye on you at all times.

Stalker!jongho who puts a gps tracker on the inside of your tire rim, so you can’t find it easily and so he can track every single movement you make.

Stalker!jongho who digs so deep into your social media that he finds your personal phone number.

Stalker!jongho who has gone to jail for stalking another woman prior, but now his focus is on you. And you’re the only one he craves.

Stalker!jongho who breaks into your house when you’re not home, stealing your family heirloom trinkets instead of anything else.

Stalker!jongho who remembers the exact layout of your bedroom so he can change his own to look similar. He’ll even buy the same candles as you too.

— “My baby doll.” “Wrong number.” “No, this is the right number.”

Stalker!jongho who gets randomly needy for you while at work, to the point he gets cranky until he gets himself off.

Stalker!jongho who follows you around on his days off, taking pictures of you for his collection.

Stalker!jongho who befriends your own family, souly to get more personal and close to you.

Stalker!jongho who nearly cums in his pants at the slightest mention of your name, even if it’s a completely different person with the same name as you. It’s the thought of you alone that makes him cum easily.

Stalker!jongho who has pictures of you hung up on his wall, various different ones at that. So he’s got an option to look at when he jerks off.

Stalker!jongho who gets so jealous seeing you with another man that he immediately goes home to draw out a plan to kidnap you and keep you to himself completely.

[monkeymatz]

his to keep | outlaw!mingi x sheriff's daughter!reader

tags: kidnapping, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, western au, multiple orgasms, size difference, creampie, aftercare

the archives

i'm kinda sad to be starting the event off with this one cuz i am not happy with it but gave up with making edits and changes :(( i've rewritten this fic like 5 times and still came up with mediocre slop LMAO... hopefully the next one will be better.

the dust from the gallows still clouds in the air when mingi grabs you from where you're standing at the edge of the square, yanking you sideways onto his horse.

rope cuts into your wrists behind your back before mingi's arm is clamping around your middle, and his horse surges forward, hooves kicking up dirt as the town shrinks behind you.

you twist and kick, trying to throw yourself, but it only makes his hold tighter, his chest pressing into your back firmly. "stop," he says close to your ear, "i'm not gonna hurt you."

the canyons swallow you as the light of the outpost appears, and the horses skid to a stop. mingi lifts you down carefully, cutting the rope once you're inside the main room, sitting on the narrow cot.

"you stay here," he says, standing in the doorway, "your father made his choice this morning, so now he can live with it." he sets a plate of beans and bread beside you before pulling the door shut, leaving you alone in the dark room.

the morning comes quickly. san pushes the door with his shoulder, setting a tin cup of water on the floor, averting his eyes. "it's clean water, drink," he says, leaving without another word.

there's a rhythm to the days after that. every evening, someone brings you stew from the communal pot, and you eat it alone, in silence. yunho works nearby most afternoons, glancing at you when you're outside, but always keeping to himself. wooyoung mutters dry jokes that make the others snort, shaking their heads.

mingi always keeps his distance, leaning in the doorways with his arms crossed over his chest, or standing at the fence watching the horses. his eyes always follow you when you walk by, and you always feel the weight of his stare.

one evening, you watch as san brings in a foal rescued from a raid. the animal startles at every sound, but san moves slowly, rubbing its neck and shoulders until it relaxes. the kid in the gang, no older than fifteen, carries heavy buckets of water for the little foal, arms trembling under the weight.

the newspapers home called them animals, but to you, they look like tired men just trying to stay alive.

mingi finds you in the corner of the main room after supper. he leans on the wall, shirt open at the collar to ward off the heat. "you're quiet tonight," he comments after a minute.

"watching," you answer, trying to keep your voice even.

he nods slowly, "see anything worth running back to tell your daddy?"

"not what i expected," you mutter as you shake your head.

mingi stays there for a while longer before he pushes off the wall, walking off toward the perimeter of their camp, boots crunching softly.

a rain storm hits later in the week, heavy enough to make water leak through the thin roof. you help the members move crates and grain sacks to a drier corner, and mingi works right beside you, lifting the heavier loads.

he reaches past you for another sack before his arm brushes yours, his skin touching your skin for a brief second, sending a jolt through your body. you carry on, and neither of you mention it, but you feel flustered for the rest of the day.

that evening, the gang gathers around the fire, telling stories from old raids and encounters. you sit on the edge of circle, knees drawn up under your dress as you feel the fire warm your face and shins.

mingi sits a few steps away, passing you a cup of warm coffee, his fingers brushing yours for longer than necessary, enough for you to feel the calluses against your skin.

"warm your hands," he says matter-of-fact, turning back to the fire.

the metal heats your palms quickly as you sip slowly, tasting the bitter grounds at the bottom of the cup.

the days begin to blur after that, and you begin to notice small habits more often. san drinks his coffee unnecessarily strong, strong enough that you can smell it from across the room. yunho hums the same song whenever he works on cleaning guns, his fingers careful when cleaning the cylinders and triggers. mingi tends to check on old pocket watch, despite the hands never moving, thumb rubbing the worn case.

you catch him watching you more too. he stares at you as you braid your hair in the lantern light, his gaze dropping to the curve of your neck where the loose strands fall. his hand twitches to reach out to yours whenever you pass him in the halls, almost like instinct.

"your father still think we're all devils out here?" mingi asks after dropping down next to you, the fire crackling steadily.

you look into the flames, feeling the heat on your cheeks, "he doesn't know the half of it."

"guess not," mingi chuckles, letting out a short breath.

later in the week, the gang leaves on a normal supply run, leaving you to watch the younger members and the injured. you help feed the horses, carrying hay that pricks your arms, and you haul water buckets until your shoulders burn.

when the group finally rides back, you notice the dark patch of blood blooming at mingi's shoulder. he sits down on a crate near the fire, jaw tight with pain as yunho starts tending to him.

"i can do it," you murmur before your mind can catch up, stepping toward mingi.

his eyes meet yours for a long second before he nods, letting you kneel in front of him and peel the fabric back slowly. the graze on his shoulder is a mess, blood still oozing and making your fingers sticky. you clean it carefully with the basin of water someone brings, pressing the cloth firm to stop the bleeding. you eyes wander to the older scars littering his chest and ribs, the lines pale and raised against his skin. one of mingi's hands rests on his thigh, fingers opening and closing as you continue to work. the others move off, giving the two of you space to work in silence. you wrap a fresh cloth around his shoulder, tying it snug, letting your hands stay on his skin a moment longer than they need to.

"why haven't you touched me?" you ask, voice barely audible over the fire.

mingi meets your eyes again, his own eyes darkening and sharp, "because i want to. every damn day since i put you on that horse."

your heart beats loud in your ears as you lean in, letting your lips touch his softly, pulling a groan from his throat. his hand comes up to the back of your neck, fingers sliding into your hair as he deepens the kiss.

his tongue moves against yours as he stands, lifting you from the ground without breaking the kiss. your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you the short distance to the back room, kicking the door shut behind him.

mingi sets you down on the edge of the cot before pulling his shirt all the way off, letting you run your hands over his chest, feeling the muscle and raised lines of old scars under your palms.

he undresses you next, tugging your dress up and over your head, letting his palms fall to your breasts, thumbs brushing over the peaks slowly. he leans down, taking one nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue move in slow circles before switching to the other one.

your fingers thread into his hair as his free hand slides down your stomach, slipping under the waist of your panties. two fingers slip inside you with easily, curling to find that sensitive spot inside you while his thumb rubs circles into your clit.

the dual stimulation builds pressure embarrassingly fast, your thighs shaking as you cum all over his fingers with a whimper as you rock against his hand.

mingi pulls back to finish undressing, letting his cock spring free, the head already slick with precum. you wrap your hand around him without thinking, stroking from base to tip, feeling the veins pulse under your fingers.

he groans quietly, catching your wrist after a few strokes, "need to be inside you."

he lays you back on the cot, pushing your thighs apart. the head of his cock presses against your entrance before he sinks in slowly, the stretch burning as he fills you up completely. mingi stays still, hips flush to yours as he lets his forehead fall against yours, breathing hard through his nose.

"tell me if it's too much," he murmurs.

you shake your head, hands gripping his shoulders, "move.. please."

the cot creaks under you as he starts to move slowly, and you wrap your legs around his waist, letting your heels dig into his back. his hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning it above your head. his other hand slips between you, thumb finding your clit against and rubbing firm circles while he fucks you steadily.

it's enough to push you over the edge again, your face burying into his neck as you moan into his skin, walls fluttering hard around his cock.

mingi pulls out, sitting back on his heels and pulling you up into his lap. you sink back onto him, and you rock your hips, hands bracing on his shoulders. his palms grip your ass, guiding you up and down as the wet sound of your bodies meeting fills the room.

he leans in and kisses you messily, sliding his tongue against yours as he forces you to ride him harder. "feel so good," he murmurs through kisses, "so wet for me."

mingi's rhythm gets messier, hips snapping faster as he chases his own release. he buries himself all the way, cumming with a guttural groan, cock pulsing as he spills inside you, grinding until he's empty.

he eases out slowly, feeling his cum leak out of you and down your thigh. mingi pulls you down beside him, arm wrapping around your waist, tracing little patterns in your skin.

"didn't plan on any of this," he says against your skin, voice rough from groaning.

you run your fingers through his damp hair, a few strands sticking to your hand. you close your eyes and press closer to his chest, listening to his heartbeat settle.

mingi shifts after a while, propping himself up on one elbow, fingers tracing the curve of your hip, "you okay?" he asks, voice just above a whisper.

you nod, turning your head to look at him. "yeah.. sore but i'm okay."

he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder before getitng up, finding a clean rag and wetting it with water from the basin. he kneels beside the cot, wiping you down between your legs before cleaning himself.

mingi lies back down, pulling you against his chest, slotting your head under his chin. one of his hands stroke up and down your back, his other hand rubbing small circles in the soft skin of your thigh.

'never thought it would be like this," he says after a while, trying to fill the silence, "i took you to hurt him.. but now i want you here.."

"i know.. i feel the same way," you murmur, playing with the fingers on your thigh as you begin to drift off.

the morning light wakes you first, feeling the weight of mingi's arm draped over you as he stirs awake. "morning," he mumbles, voice gravelly with sleep.

he kisses you slowly, running a thumb over your cheek, "you don't have to decide anything right now.. but if you want to go back.. i'll figure out how to get you there safe."

you think about your father, the gallows, the way he chose to kill a man despite promising a fair trial. you think about the quiet mornings at the camp, the way the men look out for each other, the way mingi looked at you last night.

"i want to stay," you say, looking up at him, "with you.. here.."

he searches your face for a long moment, nodding as he pulls you closer, "alright. i'll figure it out. we'll make it work."

[kirschechergrimm]

Ius Primae Noctis. (K. Yeosang)

Pairing: Yeosang x you

Genre: Dark Romance, Smut, Western, Angst, Drama, Revenge.

Word Count: 40.2k

Summary: In a remote village hidden among the snow-covered mountains, the old chieftain Bill Brenner and his six sons enforce the medieval ius primae noctis upon every young bride.

Warnings: Sexual, psychological, and physical violence, SMUT, loss of virginity. (every chapter has its warnings)

╔

Ius primae noctis: it means “right of the first night”; a Latin phrase referring to the alleged right of a feudal lord to take the husband's place on the wedding night, upon the marriage of one of his serfs.

╝

Innocentia. (1/2)

Ultio incipit. (2/2)

A/N: This story was inspired by the film The Dark Valley. This is a oneshot and will not have a sequel. The characters are human and make mistakes, but their actions, personalities, and behavior do not reflect those of the face claims in real life.

[kisssan]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 ⊹ 𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘇 𝘃𝗼𝗹. 𝟮

pairing﹢ateez x fem!reader (maknae line) genre﹢smut. submissive-leaning atz + femdom!reader, heavily inspired by vixx’s chained up, bdsm elements (such as restraint, heavy degradation, marking), high emotional intensity and absolute whipped behavior. praising, cunnilingus, size difference [san], predator/prey dynamic, semi-public, thigh riding [mingi], brat-taming, choking, bondage [wooyoung], pain play, marking, cockwarming [jongho]. usage of pet names, overstimulation, mentions of multiple orgasms and orgasm denial, creampie. synopsis﹢bound by a love so intense it feels like a beautiful captivity, it's an addictive pleasure in being completely chained up by the one who rules their hearts.

↳ hyung line

❝ like a beast completely trained by you, no matter what i do i won’t be able to leave you ❞

you are still constantly adjusting to the man SAN has grown into. there is dominance radiating off him now that simply wasn’t there years ago. it was before the protein shakes, the endless gym routines, and before his body carved itself into this mouth-drooling, jaw-dropping masterpiece of raw muscle.

you deeply miss that version of him, the boy who would cling to you with sleepy eyes and completely fall apart under your touch without even trying to hide it. he used to be smaller and softer, a little pathetic in the absolute sweetest way. you miss the way his vulnerability used to fit perfectly in the palms of your hands, making you the dominant one in the bedroom.

tonight, nostalgia pulls you too deep into the sea. san is currently hovering over you on the bed as he worships your body, showering you with praise after praise. but you don't want to be soft, you want to be mean, and force the monster back into the cage you built for him years ago.

"san," you cut him off, your voice dropping cold. "get off me. on your knees, right now."

he freezes instantly, like a beast completely trained by you, his instincts take over as he climbs off you without a single word, falling directly onto his knees at the edge of the bed, looking up at you from below with those exact same doe eyes from his youth.

you sit up, crawling to the edge of the mattress to look down at him. over the years, it feels like a muscle-bound monster has slowly crawled itself out from under the bed, replacing the soft boy you used to control. although, as you look at his flushed face, you know he is still entirely your captive. you reach out, tangling your fingers tight into his hair and pulling his head back roughly, forcing him to hiss from the impact.

"look at you," a cruel smirk playing on your lips. "look at how huge you've gotten. all those thick muscles... and you're still just a pathetic and needy little dog for me, aren't you, sannie?"

a quiet whine tears from his throat at the words, his lips parting and… he loves it. he is absolutely addicted to the way you can still overpower his mind even when he could easily crush you with his hands.

"y-yes... yes, angel," san whimpers, his hands twitching at his sides because he doesn't know where to put them, completely flustered by your sudden dominance. "please, tell me what to do…. i don’t want to be the reason you are unsatisfied."

"unzip your pants," you command, releasing his hair. "and don't you dare touch yourself. you're going to eat me out, sannie. and you better do it perfectly, or i'm leaving you hard and aching all night."

your boyfriend listens to your every word, hurriedly stripping his pants down to his thighs, as he buries his face directly between your heavenly gates, his tongue working hungrily. he is whining so goddamn loud against your soaking folds, swallowing your juices while ruthlessly abusing your hole. you reach down, gripping his hair again to push his face even harder against you, forcing him to take everything you give him. your touch turns him completely chaotic; broad shoulders are tense, biceps flexing as his fingers claw into the bedsheets, yet he is completely submissive beneath you, his lower half grinds desperately against the edge of the mattress, a stain of pre-cum already spreading across his thick and veiny cock.

when a toe-curling orgasm hits you, you moan loudly into the empty air and pull back to look down at him: his chin is completely coated in your slickness, his cheeks flushed bright red from being suffocated against your thighs. yet, he just smiles up at you, his dimples showing beautifully through his desperation. 

"did i do well, princess?" san whispers, his voice shaky, and desperately begging to hear your praise. "please, baby, tell me... tell me that i did well for you."

but you don’t praise him just yet.

you push him back onto the mattress, flipping the dynamic entirely as you straddle his lap. guiding his aching cock to your entrance, you sink down all at once, taking every single inch of his monstrous size inside your tight walls. san lets out a loud sob, his fingers instantly going to hold onto your waist, as you begin to ride him ruthlessly. he tries to suppress his moans, biting his lower lip just like he used to when he was younger, but you make it impossible.

"ah, fuck– baby, please! it's too much, i'm so sensitive," san cries out, completely honest with his feelings, unable to hide how quickly you bring him to the edge. "i can't hold it– d-don't stop, please, don't stop…"

keeping your eyes locked onto his captivated gaze as you fuck him — reminding him that no matter how big he gets at the gym and how much strength he develops, his free will belongs entirely to you.

san’s sensitive body can’t take the brutal depth of your control; his lower abdomen goes completely rigid beneath you, and with a strangled cry of your name, he loses his mind. bucking his hips upward as he shoots load after load deep inside you, as he surrenders his entire being to his beautiful angel. he clings to you tightly, panting and broken, knowing that no matter what he does, he will never be able to leave the hands that trained him.

❝ you put a leash on my heart, nail it in place ❞

MINGI has been incredibly busy lately, which has unfortunately led to you being ignored for far longer than you can handle. neglected, if you want to be completely honest with yourself. you absolutely despise being left on seen, and your boyfriend's sudden radio silence has left a bitter taste in your mouth.

he has that towering height that commands respect in every room he walks into, but you know exactly how to make that giant man whine like a helpless baby behind closed doors. what he doesn't expect you to do is show up at his sanctuary. you march straight into the kq entertainment building, as you pull out your phone to send him a single text: you have two minutes.

you deliberately give him a brief head start to hide or flee; the choice is entirely his. it becomes an instant chase through the labyrinthine hallways, like a horror movie where the monster slowly tracks down its prey. the terror turned the giant wolf into a completely helpless chick the exact second you corner him back inside his own studio, locking the door behind you.

he can't even utter a word of explanation when you literally put a leash on him. you launch forward, your hand wrapping around his warm throat, squeezing just enough to force a breathless gasp from his lips. ruthlessly pinning his broad frame flat against the soundproofed wall, punishing his days of neglect with bruising kisses and gnawing nail marks that sink straight into his collarbones. thank god this room is entirely soundproofed, because the sudden way he begins to whine and whimper under your hands is absolute music to your ears.

the big guy is feeling incredibly small under the crushing weight of your dominant touch and cold gaze. you want to be mean to him, you want to make him feel the exact phantom ache of the loneliness he inflicted on you. pulling the collar of his shirt, yanking him down until you are completely face to face, your noses brushing as you glare into his eyes. 

"so, you want to ignore me, huh, mingi?” your voice drops to a quiet hiss, dripping with anger. ”you want to ignore your sweet girlfriend who cares so much for you and got worried sick because she hasn't heard from you for days? you think you can just leave me on read and come back to a warm bed whenever you're done being an idol?"

"no, jagi, no... i'm so sorry, please," mingi whines, voice cracking pathetically. his large hands are hovering near your waist, completely trembling, too terrified to touch you without permission. "i didn't mean to, baby... the comeback preparations, i lost track of time... please, princess, don't look at me like that. i missed you so much, it was killing me."

"shut up," you snap, throwing his head back against the wall. "you don't get to speak, and you certainly don't deserve to be inside my pussy tonight. not at all. a selfish and neglectful man like you, who forgets about his own girlfriend, doesn't deserve my attention, nor my touch, and definitely not my kindness."

he slides down the wall right onto his knees before you, exactly where he belongs. he looks up at you with glossy boba eyes, looking entirely like a domestic pet begging for a single scrap of mercy from his master.

"please, jagi... please, i'll do anything. just don't withhold yourself from me. i really, really missed you."

you smirk at the desperate sight of him, and to punish him thoroughly while driving his libido into an agonizing overdrive, you decide to tease the absolute shit out of him.

“sit.” you nodded towards the sofa, and he quickly took a seat in the middle.

you step forward, hike up your skirt, and remove your panties, letting them fall on the floor. straddling one of his denim-clad thighs, as you begin to ruthlessly grind your hypersensitive clit against the rough fabric of his jeans, using his own body weight to pleasure yourself while keeping him entirely starved. you lean up and bite his earlobe, lick down his neck, and let him feel exactly how ready you are, all while keeping his hands pinned to his sides.

"ah, fuck! fuck, princess, please!" mingi screams out, a heavy groan tearing from his chest as his entire body shakes. he begins to thrash his hips upward, but you slap his inner thigh, the loud sound echoing through the soundproofed room. 

"i told you no, mingi." you command, your nails digging into his jeans.

this moment is agonizingly perfect for you, but for mingi, it is pure torture. his cock is completely engorged, throbbing painfully against his zipper, leaking heavily through his underwear. trapped under your unyielding body, forced to watch you ride his leg to a back-arching orgasm without getting a single stroke of his own.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, baby, please let me hit, i'm begging you," he cries out, his stoic persona completely disintegrated into a pathetic mess. "i swear, i'll never leave you on read again, i'll call you every hour, just please let me stretch you out... please let me slide inside you, princess, i'm begging, it hurts so bad..."

you lean down, dragging your tongue up his wet cheek, tasting his salty tears before whispering straight into his ear, "you're going to stay right here, and you're going to watch me ride your thigh until i cum. understand?” while you deliberately grind down one last time, absorbing his ruined groans, leaving him fully hard and rethinking his life choices.

❝ like an idiot, i freeze, i’m a slave ❞

WOOYOUNG loves to be the center of attention. whether it’s positive or negative, he will gladly thrive on the throne. but he tends to get incredibly envious if anyone or anything else steals your attention. he wants to be your absolute favorite, your one and only, and so, like the ultimate brat he is, he constantly talks back, teases you, and pushes your buttons just to see exactly how far he can go. tonight, however, he crossed every single line and boundary you had ever established.

your boyfriend was acting up all through dinner, causing a petty scene at the restaurant table. the bickering escalated into a genuine argument, and you were completely done playing his childish games. the exact moment he pushed too far by making comments, your entire demeanor went ice-cold. your gaze snapped to his, and like a complete idiot, he froze in place. his cocky grin instantly vanished from his lips as the realization hit him.

with a fake smile you calmly assured san that everything was fine when he asked. all wooyoung received from you for the rest of the night was a disappointed look, leaving him sweating in his seat, completely terrified of what would happen once back home.

hours later, the front door to your shared apartment clicks shut, and you don’t give him a chance to run. wooyoung tries to backpedal, his nervous laughter echoing off the walls as he attempts to gaslight you into submitting to his whims: "come on, baby, it was just a joke, you're overreacting… you're taking it way too seriously. hey, look at me–" so, what’s the absolute best way to shut up a noisy brat like him? you choke him, of course.

you don't let him finish. your hand flying up to wrap ruthlessly around his throat, slamming his back hard against the wall. your fingers wrap around his neck like a heavy steel chain, squeezing tightly enough to cut off his pathetic excuses as his hands fly up to desperately claw at your wrist. watching his eyes widen in pure shock, tracking the way he struggles for even a tiny gasp of air while his throat bobs beneath your palm… you are the absolute reason he is breathless, holding the complete power to grant or withhold his next breath.

"you think it's funny to embarrass me, woo?" you hiss, leaning close to watch his pupils dilate with absolute terror and nothing but arousal. "you want to be a mouthy little shit in public? you don't get to speak anymore, and you will learn your fucking place."

the heavy boundaries you set are exactly what he thrives on. you release his throat, making him collapse to the floor, panting and coughing heavily, but his torment has barely begun. you command him to strip completely bare and sit on the edge of the bed. your hands are steady as you grab a silk tie and a blindfold. because he doesn't deserve to see you tonight, or get a single thing he wants. binding his wrists securely behind his back and slipping the blindfold over his eyes, plunging him into a darkness.

"p-princess... please," wooyoung whimpers, his head rolling back as he sits blindly on the mattress, "doll, i'm sorry. i'll be good, i swear. my cock is so hard, it hurts... please touch me, baby."

"shut up," your fingers catch the soft flesh of his earlobe and tug hard enough to make him hiss. when his hips involuntarily twitch, trying to grind and find relief, you slap his bare thigh rather harshly. "did i tell you that you could move? you're so predictably pathetic."

"no, baby... no, i'm sorry, please," he cries out, a sob tearing from his throat, completely broken and frozen under the terrifying weight of your unseen gaze.

finally, you step between his knees, leaning down, your teeth sinking hard into his shoulder to warn him before your hand wraps around his throbbing cock. but you aren't here to make him feel good; you are here to break his spirit. giving him a handjob, ruthlessly overstimulating his sensitive skin, your grip is tight and entirely merciless, pumping him straight to the brink of a shattering orgasm before you suddenly rip your hand away, denying him completely. you do it again and again, teasing him until he is begging for it.

"please, doll, let me cum! i'm gonna lose my mind, please, fuck, i can’t ta–"

"no." you push his overstimulated nerves past the point of no return. “you don't get to cum, wooyoung.”

the sensation is too overwhelming for his fragile restraint, and without your explicit permission, his cock pulses violently, shooting a frantic trajectory of thick white semen straight through the air. because you are standing directly over him, the sticky fluid splatters heavily across your cheek and the front of your clean clothes. 

the room goes deathly quiet, save for his panicked breathing. without a single word, you bring your palm aching and fast across his flushed face. the loud, stinging slap echoes sharply through the bedroom, snapping his head to the side and leaving a bright red handprint burning into his soft cheek.

"did i give you permission to cum, you fucking brat?" you ask, your voice dangerously quiet.

"n-no, princess... oh god, baby, i'm sorry, it was an accident, i couldn't–"

wooyoung lets out a shattered moan against the sting of the blow, a pathetic drop of saliva leaking from the corner of his lips. instead of shrinking away, this turns him on to an almost disgusting degree. his cock twitches hard, a fresh wave of pre-cum leaking from the tip as he shivers uncontrollably from the way only you could make him feel.

❝ you dig in your sharp claws, to you i’m forever chained up ❞

before you even started dating JONGHO, you knew he was physically unbreakable. he carries an effortless strength in his bones and is fiercely private about his personal life, especially when it comes to the sacred territory of your bedroom activities. for a man like him to submit is a massive deal. it requires an unparalleled level of absolute trust, and it always demands that you get extra worked up just to breach his defences.

you can sink your teeth deep into his shoulder or dig your nails completely raw into his broad back, and his ridiculously high pain tolerance makes it feel like nothing physical can ever truly hold him down. he could snap a tight silken tie or a leather rope with a single flex of his wrists, but he chooses not to, because the singular thought of making you sad, frustrated, or genuinely mad is the one thing in the entire universe that actually breaks his heart. 

since you cannot overpower him physically, you destroy him emotionally and mentally. you resort to a kind of angry sex tonight because you are so incredibly annoyed by his unbothered nature. you want to be a true sadist, but the fact that he barely flinches is driving you absolutely crazy. kissing him all over his face, sweetly cooing at him to lie perfectly flat for you, before using your teeth and nails ruthlessly, marking his honeyed-soft skin until he is redder than a strawberry. you intentionally pick positions where you can look down and mock his power, straddling his lap and leaning close to his ear.

"you could stop me right now, jongho," you taunt, your fingers digging hard into his jaw. "you could easily throw me off you and take whatever you want… why don't you?"

through his ragged panting, his dark eyes lock onto yours, completely glazed with nothing but pure adoration. "because i'm yours, princess," jongho rasps out, his deep voice sending a heavy vibration straight through your thighs. his fingers twitch against the mattress, forcing himself to stay pinned beneath you. "i don't want to move unless you tell me to. do whatever you want to me, baby. i'm not going anywhere."

you begin riding him like there is absolutely no tomorrow, slamming your hips down against his in a brutal rhythm. literally digging your nails deep into his shoulders and back, leaving long tracks on his skin. leaning down, you sink your teeth hard into the junction of his neck and shoulder, biting down until you can taste the salt of his sweat, desperate to extract a cry of pain from him. but jongho doesn't flinch. he leans directly into the bite, letting out a hum, because to him, every scratch proves that he is forever chained up to his pretty girl.

you slap his chest hard, your breath hitching as you continue to bounce up and down, "make a sound, jongho! fuck– tell me it hurts!" you snap, completely frustrated. 

he is so sweet, yet naturally so commanding. you are actively trying to hurt him, but your boyfriend doesn't react to the pain you are trying so hard to cause. instead, his heavy hips give a lazy thrust that drives his massive cock deep against your cervix. your boyfrined even gets a little pushy with his advice, suggesting exactly where you should strike next to satisfy your frustration.

"right there, my sweet girl... bite harder right there," he pants, freeing one of his hands from the rope, gently guiding your chin to a sensitive spot on his throat. "if you want to make me bleed, you need to dig your nails right into the small of my back. don't hold back, hm? let it out on me."

it's completely infuriating. he was born to dominate every stage and room he walks into. however, on rare occasions like this, he doesn't mind giving you control to let you have your fun. but you aren't finding it fun right now; you're getting tired, and his infinite stamina is downright pissing you off.

you collapse forward against his chest, completely spent, your muscles trembling too hard to keep up the ruthless pace. forcing yourself to cockwarm him as your breathing slowly evens out. the space between your lower halves is an absolute wet mess, a combined puddle of your multiple orgasms.

staring down at the masterpiece you just created. his skin is completely ruined and marked by your violence: covered in red scratches, deep bite marks, and dark bruises. he looks like a priceless painting that has been aggressively signed by its rightful owner. honestly, fuck him. not that you aren't doing it literally, but you are getting exhausted. his cock is still rock-hard inside you, pulsing lazily, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath your cheek as if he could go for three more rounds without even breaking a sweat. 

jongho smiles softly up at you, his warm hand finally coming up to gently stroke your hair, completely unbothered by the burning scratches on his back. "you tired already, my pretty girl?" he murmurs, his voice incredibly soft and deep as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. "take your time, baby. i'm not moving a single muscle. i'm tying you later anyway, so do as you please."

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

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[last-words-ofashootingstar]

❛ Tempest ❜

"Am I what you think about all late at night?"

-> NON-CON WARNING. TABOO CONTENT WARNING. TRIGGERING CONTENT WARNING.

-> You come home after four years away to bury your mother and settle her affairs, but your step-father doesn't make things easy. Especially not with the history between you.

Welcome Home

Father Knows Best

Tempest

[kisssan]

pairing﹢ateez x fem!reader genre﹢smut, hurt with comfort, part 1 of 3. frat!au. friends to lovers (eventual smut focused on the main love interest san). kinda reverse harem. usage of alcohol, nicotine, and weed (not by reader). mutual flirting with dubious intent, [author note: while there is a bet involved, all physical interactions are initiated through mutual attraction. no sexual assault occurs.] suggestive dialogue, sexual tension, predator/prey dynamics, deceptive motives, kissing + making out, toxic masculinity/peer pressure, mild objectification, usage of pet names (princess, pretty, good girl, doll, darling, etc). biting/marking, body worship, unprotected sex, missionary, praise kink, mentions of multiple orgasms, aftercare. synopsis﹢if there’s no label, it’s only fair for everyone to take a bite. you’re considered a prize in the predatory world of the frat house. when you show up to their party unannounced, you unknowingly become the center of a high-stakes bet. caught in a dizzying hunt between the charming frats, you’re forced to navigate a maze of lust and deception, all while wondering if the man you actually want will finally claim you before someone else wins the game. word count﹢19.3k

✦ SERIES MASTERLIST ✦ PLAY THE VINYL RECORD

“you slept with him?”

giselle had already interrogated you for an hour, but the vibe shifted the second you accidentally let it slip that you’d been doing some rather questionable activities lately. the look on her face was pure gold, because you didn’t just sleep with anyone; you slept with SAN. the campus sweetheart, the man with the lethal dimples, and a key member of that infamous pack of pseudo-frat boys who seemed to live like there’s no tomorrow.

“i didn’t know what else to do! he had those big, sad eyes and that adorable pouty lip, and–”

“oh, sure, you were basically held at gunpoint,” yunjin chimed in, her voice dripping with the same judgment as she bit into her cookie. she looked like she wanted to gag just thinking about you breathing the same air as that group. “and where? please tell me it wasn’t on your bed, because i will literally light it on fire before i sit on it.”

it was no secret: your best friends hated men. usually, you were right there with them, but san was the glitch in the matrix; he wasn't like the others. while his seven friends thrived on cheap beer, clouds of weed smoke, and the constant hunt for female validation, he was... pure. he didn't drink or smoke, as he stayed sober and clean, while the rest of the house turned into a nat geo documentary about primal needs. he was an angel in the devil’s den, and you still hadn't figured out what he was still doing there.

“n-no! he’s never been here, i promise. the bed is clean,” you stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “we did it in his...”

“in his what?”

“in his... car.”

“what?!”

the screech that left giselle’s throat was deafening. they wanted the when, why, and how immediately. to them, you were clearly gone for him, astronomically down bad, head over heels, despite your denials of the word 'love.' they found your delusion cute, even if they secretly wished you’d pull a simba and run away and never come back.

“look, it’s fine! we aren’t even dating,” you defended, waving a hand dismissively. “we’re keeping it casual. just hooking up, you know?”

“yeah, because just hooking up usually results in hickeys so massive that nasa could mistake them for a new galaxy.” yunjin threw her hands up, pointing at the purple marks blooming across your collarbone. you’d tried on the high-coverage foundation, but even the best formula couldn't hide the evidence of his animalistic hunger.

you went silent, your fingers drifting to the sensitive skin where san had staked his claim. the memory was barely twenty-four hours old and still vibrated behind your eyelids. it hadn't been the plan, not at all. you were supposed to be practicing your driving, a simple lesson getting used to switching gears and doing left and right turns. but one lingering look led to a touch, which led to a bruised lip, and before you knew it, the windows were fogged with steam, and the car was rocking on its suspension. your panties were probably still wedged under the back seat. some details were definitely too much for the girls to handle.

suddenly, your phone screen lit up, catching everyone’s eyes.

“oh, it’s san,” you murmured, reading the notification bar while your friends leaned in like they were filming an episode of gossip girl. for two people who wanted you nowhere near the frat house, they were incredibly nosy.

san: last night was amazing. you’re amazing. i’m so lucky to have you in my life. <3 

your best friends didn’t like the hearts in your eyes, or how your cheeks started to gain rose-red color, a soft smile curling at the corners of your mouth. oh no, not on their watch. you were not going to be another victim of the frat-boy cycle.

“cut him off.” giselle didn’t even hesitate. “girl, ghost him and never talk to him again. and no, i don’t care how good that dick is!”

“but listen to me, he isn’t like them–”

“he is, and you know it. i’m sorry, but stop being delusional.” yunjin was there to prove the point even further, leaning forward with a look of genuine concern. “he probably only offered to help you drive so he could get you alone. make you one more body count on that list. he's part of that house, babe. they breathe weed smoke and toxic masculinity.”

you wanted to scream that they were wrong. that san was the one who made sure you were comfortable, the one who stayed stone-cold sober just to make sure everyone got home safe. sure, his friends were a chaotic mess of red flags and empty bottles, but he was the calm in their storm, their guardian angel at some point.

“he’s actually a good guy,” you whispered, though it felt like talking to a brick wall.

“maybe he is,” giselle sighed, rolling her eyes as she collapsed back onto her pillow. “but good guys don’t stay good when they’re surrounded by seven devils. the association alone is a crime.”

the room went quiet for a moment, the heavy 'man-hating' energy of the sleepover clashing when you looked back down at his text, your thumb hovering over the screen. you knew the risks, and you knew your friends were just trying to protect your heart, but they didn't see the way he pouted when he was sleepy or the way he’d patiently explained the brake-to-gas transition while his hand rested gently over yours.

“okay, enough!” giselle groaned, throwing a stuffed animal at your head to break your trance. “i am officially tired of the boy talk. my brain is rotting. if i hear the name san one more time tonight, i’m sleeping in the bathtub.”

“honestly, same,” yunjin laughed, grabbing a face mask from her bag. “no more men. pass me the snacks and put on a horror movie where the frat guy dies first.”

you giggled, finally tucking your phone under your pillow. the debate wasn't over, but for now, the girls were settling in, and despite their warnings, you knew exactly who you’d be dreaming about.

“so you fucked her?”

the question cut through the haziness of the room with WOOYOUNG sprawled out on his bed, one arm draped over his forehead while he held a joint in the other. a thin, grey ribbon of smoke curled toward the ceiling, carrying that familiar scent that clung to every corner in the house. san was next to him, as he didn't even blink. he just kept his eyes tracked on the plushie he was tossing upward: up, catch. up, catch.

“i wouldn’t use that term.”

“then what term should you use when you put your penis in her vagina?”

wooyoung was always the first to pry into his best friend’s business, because keeping a secret in this environment is like trying to hold onto sand — impossible and pointless. the frats had a reputation to uphold. they were the kings of the one-night stand, the legends of the blurred morning after. and while you were drop-dead gorgeous, no doubt about that, everyone knew you weren't exactly the type to fit into their world.

“look, i like her, okay?” san finally snapped, catching the plushie mid-air and hugging it tight to his chest. he turned his head on the pillow, looking at wooyoung who was staring blankly at the ceiling fans.

“i like her,” the stoner mimicked, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he took another puff. exhaling slowly, the smoke obscuring his features for a second. “man, you’re far gone. but c’mon, give me the details. did you finally get her out of those clothes? how many times did she cum? i bet she’s a screamer, isn’t she?”

san groaned, burying his face into the plushie. “wooyoung, shut up. it wasn’t like that. it was... it was actually really good.”

“it was really good,” wooyoung chuckled, his voice dropping into a filthy and playful tone. “that’s code for we tried every position in the book. did you have her against the window? i saw your car earlier... your windows had rather impressive hand prints for just giving someone a driving lesson.”

san felt the heat creep up his neck, the memory of your hands tangled in his hair making his heart do a clumsy skip. he didn’t want to tell wooyoung that he’d spent half the time just worshipping your skin, or that the way you looked at him made him want to burn the whole frat house down just to keep you safe from the chaos that occurred every second.

“we were in the backseat,” the man admitted quietly, his grip tightening on the toy.

“the classic,” wooyoung hummed, tapping ash into a tray on the nightstand. his eyes were red-rimmed and heavy, but his smirk was so smug. “just be careful, lover boy. the girls she hangs out with will have your head on a pike if you break her heart. and as for the guys here... they’re gonna give you hell for going soft.”

“i don’t care,” san said, and for the first time that night, he sounded completely sure of his decision. “let them talk. she’s worth the headache.”

“so, what position did you really have her in? did you do that thing where you–”

“wooyoung, seriously, stop,” san groaned, but his defensive stance was interrupted by the door swinging open so hard it hit the wall. YUNHO strolled in, looking way too energetic for someone who survived on nicotine and energy drinks. MINGI was dragging along behind him, looking like he’d just woken up from a three-hour nap after having his dick sucked.

“party tomorrow night,” yunho announced, clapping his hands together. “we need to finalize the invite list. we were thinking of some freshmen, so any suggestions?”

wooyoung took a slow drag of his joint and pointed a lazy finger at san. “how about san’s girlfriend? she’s pretty and smart, on top of her major, and gets a scholarship.”

“she is not my girlfriend,” san snapped, sitting up so fast the plushie tumbled to the floor.

“girlfriend?!” mingi yelled, his voice booming through the thin walls of the house.

within seconds, the hallway sounded like a stampede. the floorboards groaned under the weight of four other men racing toward the noise. SEONGHWA was the first to lean against the doorframe, followed by a skeptical-looking HONGJOONG, a judging JONGHO, and YEOSANG, who looked like he’d just been handed the best tea of the semester.

“what girlfriend?” hongjoong asked, crossing his arms. “san, really? the guy who spends his friday nights cleaning the kitchen while we’re out?”

it was a disaster. in this house, the word 'girlfriend' was a myth, a legend told to frighten the freshmen. they did hookups, situationships, friends with benefits, but they didn't do feelings. the mere mention of a committed title was enough to start a departmental investigation.

“none of your business,” san muttered, trying to look anywhere but at their smirking faces. “she’s no one important, just a girl in our university.”

“no one important doesn't get you out of the house to give her driving lessons,” wooyoung chirped from the bed, ruining san's life with a single sentence.

“bring her tomorrow,” jongho suggested, “if she’s just a girl, it shouldn’t matter if she attends the party.”

“no,” san said firmly. “she’s not coming here.”

he knew exactly what would happen. they’d tease and try to corrupt you, or worse, they’d make you realize that being associated with a frat boy, even a 'good' one, was a social death sentence. he wanted to keep you tucked away, a private piece of peace in his chaotic life. something for his eyes and hands only.

“he’s protecting her,” seonghwa noted, a smirk spreading across his face. “how romantic.”

“i’ll bet fifty bucks she’s here by midnight,” mingi whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“oh, so we are doing it like this, huh?” yunho grinned. “i bet a hundred that san caves and brings her just because he can't stand the thought of her being home alone while he’s here.”

san watched them start to shake hands and pull out their phones to type something in their note apps. he wanted to keep you as his little secret, but the vultures had picked up the scent, and they were hungry for a show. wooyoung laughed so hard he started coughing, leaning back, his head hitting the pillow as he let out a slow, haunting cloud of smoke. he looked through half-lidded eyes, his grin turning into something far more predatory because the innocent teasing was officially over.

“if she’s not your girlfriend, and she’s no one important...” his best friend’s voice dropped into a smooth purr that made the hair on the back of san’s neck stand up. “then you wouldn’t mind if i asked her out, right? i mean, sharing is caring after all.”

san’s body went rigid, eyes widened in pure shock. “don’t even think about it, woo.”

“why not?” mingi piped up, as he leaned against the dresser. “you know the rules. nothing is official until you make it. and if you’re too scared to claim her, it’s a fair game. she’s a pretty little thing. i wouldn’t mind seeing if she’s as good as you say she is.”

“i’ll bet i can get her number before the party even starts,” yunho added, his competitive streak flaring up. he wasn’t even high or tipsy, just fueled by the pure adrenaline of the hunt. “hell, i’ll bet i can get her in my bed by next weekend.”

to them, you were a prize, a challenge to be won. the good boy of the group had finally found something worth hiding, and that only made the rest of them want to tear the secret apart and see what the hype was about.

“stop it. all of you,” san hissed, his protective instincts were screaming. he knew these men; he knew they were charming, reckless, and could talk almost any girl into a bad decision with a single smile and a hit of whatever they were smoking.

“oh, he’s getting mad,” wooyoung cackled, pointing a shaking finger at san. “look at him! he’s actually catching feelings. but sannie, you know how this works. if she comes to the party tomorrow, she’s in our territory.”

seonghwa, who had been quiet until now, let out a chuckle. “the bet is on, then. fifty bucks to the first person who gets a kiss. a hundred for a make out, three hundred if you get her in bed, and… san, if you want to keep her, you better step up your game.”

looking around the room at his seven best friends, the people he called brothers, and for the first time, they looked like the monsters your best friends warned you about. they were laughing, throwing out names of positions and places they’d take you, treating your name like a coin in a poker game.

everything here is a gamble, and everyone has decided that they are playing to win and keep the streak, so will san do a call or fold?

the following morning, san slipped out of the house early, the scent of beer and lingering smoke clinging to the walls behind him. he needed air, time to think and process everything, as he wandered into the nearby park. the boys were ruthless once the bet was placed, like sharks in a feeding frenzy, and he knew he couldn't protect you if you set foot inside that place tonight.

pulling out his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he dialed your number.

"hi, princess," he said the moment you picked up, forcing his voice to drop into that honey-sweet register he reserved only for you. "how are you? did you have fun with giselle and yunjin?"

“i’m good… still sleepy.” he could hear the sleepiness in your voice, that soft and raspy tone that usually made him melt. you told him about the movies, the gossip, and how you baked chocolate-chip cookies, and how the girls had just left thirty minutes ago to study, since fashion and music majors never truly rested. 

"im glad you had fun," he said, offering a pained smile to the empty park. he took a shaky breath, the silence stretching a second too long.

"is everything okay?" you asked, noticing the weight in his exhale.

“so, listen to me,” san started, pacing back and forth in front of a wooden bench, his free hand shoved deep into his pocket. “there’s a party at the house tonight. it’s going to be a mess, okay? the guys are going to be drunk and high, the music is going to be way too loud, and honestly... it’s just not a good time for you to come over. i’ll come over to yours later if you want, we can go get food, just... stay home tonight, please?”

he held his breath, praying your protective friends had rubbed off on you enough to make you say no.

“actually sannie,” you said, your voice sounding confused but intrigued, “wooyoung texted me a few hours ago. he invited me to tonight's party, saying you were being shy about asking me and that i should definitely show up around eleven.”

san stopped dead in his tracks. the world seemed to freeze as his blood ran cold. oh god. fucking hell, wooyoung did the fuck not. that bastard actually did it. he remembered his best friend staring at his phone at 3 am, ignoring the beer pong game with mingi and yeosang, a wicked and rather too pleased grin on his face. 

“he texted you?” san’s voice was full of betrayal. “what exactly did he say? and did you... did you answer him?”

“i told him i’d think about it,” you replied, completely oblivious to the fact that you were currently the stakes in a high-stakes poker game. “he seemed really nice, though. he told me he wanted to finally meet the girl who’s been keeping you so distracted.”

"please, (name)... don't go.”

"why? it's not like you are my boyfriend or anything."

the words hit him like a physical blow to the stomach. it was the truth, since he hadn't claimed you. he hadn't given you a reason to choose his word over an invitation from his best friend. the trap was set for its prey to fall into. wooyoung wasn't just being a wingman; he was moving the chess pieces to win the bet. if you showed up tonight, you’d be walking straight into a den of seven men who had turned your existence into a competition.

"look, i just have a bad feeling. i don’t want you near people who have vodka and jagermeister mixed into their dna. believe me, i’m doing this for your own good."

"and i have a good feeling and would like to go. what's the worst that can happen?"

the worst? san’s mind raced through the horrors. the predatory looks, the nasty comments masked as flirt. wooyoung trying to charm his way between your legs, mingi or yunho trying to see how much you could drink. the risk of someone slipping something into your cup, the cameras, and the total lack of respect for boundaries once the bass started thumping.

he opened his mouth to tell you that his friends had put a price on your head. he wanted to tell you about the fifty bucks for a kiss and the hundred more for a night in their bed.

but the words died in his throat. if he told you, he’d lose you because you’d see what kind of people he associated with. if he told you, he’d betray the only "brothers" he had. he was trapped between the angel on his shoulder and the devils in his house.

"just trust me," san pleaded, his voice cracking, "don't come."

“san, you’re acting weird. it’s just a party,” you laughed softly, and the sound of your innocence made his stomach flip. “it’s not like i’m going to go and fall in love with your friends. i just want to see you… so, i'll be there around eleven," you said softly before hanging up.

san stared at his phone, the screen reflecting his panicked face. what was he supposed to do now? maybe make sure you stick with him the whole time, or he can even pick you up from your place and try to convince you otherwise, but you sounded determined to attend the party.

tossing your phone onto your unmade bed, you let out a heavy sigh. san was sweet, he really was, but sometimes his protectiveness felt less like care and more like a cage. why was he so against this? half the campus was going to be there, not just his inner circle of friends. you’d been seeing each other for months: going on dates, sharing meals, and, yes, having the kind of sex that made your toes curl, but he still hadn't put a label on it. he hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend, and if he wasn't going to claim that title, he didn't really get to veto your saturday night plans.

you weren't talking to other men; your loyalty was firmly with him, but you were young and bored. the thought of sitting in your room while the rest of the university was dancing and drinking sounded miserable. a party was exactly what you needed to feel like you again, not just as san’s secret.

and you definitely weren't telling giselle and yunjin. if san’s reactions were this, theirs would be enough to destroy planet earth. they’d probably stage an intervention or lock you in your room to "save you from your own bad taste," but they didn't understand the pull san had on you, and they certainly didn't know how charming wooyoung could be over a simple text.

is it so wrong to just want to have fun? you thought, biting your lip, turning your attention to your closet, pulling hangers aside, because the worst that could happen in your mind was a hangover and maybe your hair smelling like cigarettes, but hardly the apocalypse san was painting. if he were so worried about you being around strangers, well, you’d just have to stay close to him, or wooyoung, or any of the other seven guys who seemed perfectly capable of being human for one night.

your biggest problem wasn't a bad feeling or some mysterious frat house drama. your biggest problem was deciding between the tiny black slip dress that showed off the faint, fading marks on your neck or some of your skirts and tops. but you reached for the dress. if san wanted to keep you a secret, he was going to have a very hard time doing it tonight. you were going to show up, have fun, and prove to him that you could handle the frats.

arriving just like cinderella, you texted your prince charming that you were outside, and less than thirty seconds later, the heavy door swung open. san stood there, looking slightly frazzled, his dark hair pushed back and a simple black t-shirt hugging his frame, alongside some cargo pants. but then he looked at you… you looked incredible. his gaze traveled from your heels up to that tiny black dress, lingering on the soft glow of your skin. he looked like a man who had just seen a ghost, or an angel, and that alone made him want to turn you right back around and walk you home.

"hi, san." you smiled as he stepped out onto the porch, closing the door slightly to muffle the bass-heavy music. 

"you... you actually came," his hand instinctively reaching out to hover near your waist. "you look amazing. i mean, wow. but i thought... i thought we agreed–"

"we didn't agree on anything, sannie," you giggled, stepping closer to adjust his collar just to see him flush. "and thanks, you look good, too… but you look like you've seen a ghost. are you okay?"

"i'm just... nervous. so, stay close to me, okay?” he let out a ragged sigh, his thumb finally brushing the small of your back as he guided you inside. “it’s already getting rowdy in there."

it was 23:38 when you came, the party was in full swing, the pre-game long forgotten in favor of body-to-body dancing and the scent of expensive cologne and cheap tequila. you were an enigma walking through a sea of unfamiliar faces, a girl who didn't quite fit the frat-girl stereotype but was somehow the most captivating person in the room. as you moved through the crowd with san, conversations seemed to stall. heads turned, and the eyes of the other seven men in the house locked onto you like hunters ready to shoot the naive and innocent deer.

san was doing his best to keep his body blocked against yours, acting as a human shield, eyes darting around the room like a hawk. he was on high alert, and for good reason, until a hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

"there she is."

wooyoung appeared out of the haze like a fever dream. he was leaning against the wall with a cherry lollipop tucked into the corner of his smirk. his blonde hair was perfectly styled and straightened with a little black highlights, and he wore a pale pink sweater unzipped just low enough to show the lines of his collarbones and a glimpse of his chest, accompanied by black denim with a shiny belt. he looked like candy: sweet and completely addictive.

"(name), right? nice to finally meet you, pretty girl," stepping into your personal space, the scent of citrus perfume and a faint trail of weed swirling around him. he didn't wait for an answer before his eyes traveled down your body and back up, his expression one of unadulterated approval. "enjoying yourself, i hope?"

san’s grip on your waist tightened. "woo, not now."

"oh, don't be such a buzzkill, sannie." wooyoung was being cocky, and before san could react, the blond slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from your shielder. his touch was warm, his thumb brushing against your arm in a way that felt far too familiar for a stranger. "a girl this gorgeous shouldn't be tucked away in a corner all night. don't mind if i show her around, do you? she hasn't even seen the balcony view yet."

you looked at san, who looked like he was about to combust, and then back at wooyoung’s sparkling eyes. the thrill of the attention was too good to pass up. "sure," you giggled, leaning slightly into his side. "show me the way."

you started to walk away before san could even find his voice. just as you reached the edge of the hallway, wooyoung paused. he threw his head back, looking over his shoulder at san, taking the lollipop out of his mouth with a slow pop, licked his lips, and put it back in as he winked.

san stood frozen in the middle of the crowded room, completely disturbed. he watched his best friend’s hand slide a little lower on your back as you disappeared into the crowd. for the first time, he realized that "sharing is caring" wasn't just a joke to his friends; it was a warning that if you don’t care about something of yours, someone else would.

wooyoung led you through the house like a king walking through his own palace. every step on the staircase was occupied by someone smoking or making out, but the crowd seemed to part for him. he kept a hand on the small of your back, his touch light but possessive, guiding you through the sweaty mass of the living room.

"so, what do you think?" he asked, leaning in close so his lips brushed the shell of your ear, "do we live up to the rumors?"

you glanced at a guy passed out on a beanbag and then at the overflowing trash cans near the kitchen. "well, the house smells awful, and you definitely bought the cheapest alcohol available, so yeah, i’d say the rumors are true."

that made him chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he looked at you. "cheeky, aren't ya? i like that. usually, girls are too busy trying to impress me to notice the mess."

he steered you away from the noise, up to the second floor, sliding open the glass doors that led to the balcony he mentioned earlier. the air out here was crisp and cool, a contrast to the suffocating party inside. above you, the sky was a clear indigo, the moon hanging in a partial eclipse, and the view was really spectacular.

wooyoung leaned against the railing with his back, the pink of his sweater glowing under the moonlight. he reached into his pocket and put his lollipop inside a wrapper, only to pull out a small pouch, as his nimble fingers began to roll a joint. you leaned your elbows on the railing, side-eyeing the way he focused on the task, his tongue poking out just slightly as he licked the paper.

"you ever tried?" he asked, not looking up, though he could clearly feel your gaze.

"no," you admitted, shifting your weight. "not much into that kind of stuff."

"ah, i see." finally looking at you, as he lit his lighter, the flame illuminated the sharp features of his face for a second before he took a slow drag. he exhaled a thin plume of smoke toward the moon. "you live up to the good girl archetype, then."

you narrowed your eyes at him, the cool breeze fluttering the hem of your dress. "was that supposed to be a compliment?"

wooyoung stepped closer, the scent of citrus and sweet smoke swirling around you. he leaned down until he was level with your face, his gaze dropping to your lips before coming back to your eyes.

"of course, pretty," he whispered, charming his way out. "good girls are fun, but i’ve always wondered what it takes to make them break."

he held the joint out toward you, a silent invitation, his thumb grazing your knuckles as he waited. inside, you didn't know that san’s eyes were scanning the crowd frantically, looking for the girl he was so terrified of losing to the very man currently making your heart race.

you stared at the glowing tip of the joint, the rebellion bubbling up in your chest finally winning over anyone’s warnings. it’s just a party, you told yourself. you took it from his fingers, trying to look as cool as he did, but the thick smoke hit the back of your throat like a freight train. immediately, you were bent over, a hand clamped over your mouth as you let out a series of light and pathetic coughs. 

wooyoung threw his head back, a melodic laugh spilling out of him. “aw, there, there. you’ve got those big and teary puppy eyes now,” he cooed, taking the joint back before you dropped it. “you’re worse than when san tried to take a puff for the first and last time.”

“shut up,” you wheezed, wiping a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “i haven’t smoked before, and this is… it’s strong.”

“only the best for this house.”

his free hand reaching out to steady you, his palms resting at your waist. the heat from his hand seeped through the thin fabric of your dress. the sexual tension was enough to choke on, heavier than the smoke between you. wooyoung leaned in, his face inches from yours, his eyes dropping to your mouth with a look that said he was about to win the bet right then and there, playing you like a fine instrument, melting your defenses with nothing but a look. 

“you have a little bit of a smudge right here,” his voice so smooth as his thumb brushed the corner of your lip. he was closing the distance, his breath warm against your skin, and you were almost ready to let him, until the glass door slammed open with a violent thud.

“hey, woo! we need the keys to the suv, we gotta go get more alcho–” 

yunho froze mid-sentence, his tall frame nearly blocking the entire doorway. mingi stumbled in right behind him, shirtless and draped in enough silver chains to sink a boat. he let out a low whistle, sliding his black sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a better look at you. 

“woah, did we accidentally invite a k-drama lead?”

wooyoung didn't move his hand from your waist, but his jaw tightened with a flash of pure annoyance. he let out a frustrated exhale, rolling his eyes as he let go of you. 

“that’s (name). san’s plus-one for the night.”

“san has a plus-one?” yunho grinned, stepping onto the balcony and effectively killing the intimate vibe wooyoung had spent twenty minutes building. he looked so handsome in his ripped jeans and unbuttoned white shirt, his black jacket swaying as he moved. “well, san is currently busy trying to find a mop because someone puked in the foyer. we’ll take over from here.”

mingi didn't even wait for a response. he stepped in close, the jewelry around his neck clinking. “you don’t wanna hang out with this boring stoner all night, do you? come on, me and yunho are going on a booze run. we need a woman’s touch to make sure we don't buy more battery acid.”

“yeah, come on. we’ve got a car waiting and the night is young. don't let woo bore you to death with his good girl talk.” yunho had gently taken your hand, his large palm engulfing yours, before wooyoung could protest, he gave them the car key. mingi stood on your other side like a literal wall of muscle. they began ushering you back toward the house, and you looked back at the blonde, giving him a small shrug as the two tall men practically swept you off the balcony. 

the stoner stood alone, fuming inside like a volcano. putting the joint back in its place in his pocket, as he switched it with the lollipop, shoved it into his mouth, and bit down with an aggressive crack. he watched them lead you away, his eyes narrowed as he planned his next move. the game was just getting started, and the twin towers had just upped the ante.

walking between them felt like being caught between two skyscrapers. you had to tilt your head back just to meet their eyes, handsome jawlines that seemed to defy gravity. yunho kept the mood light, cracking jokes about the absolute state of the kitchen, while mingi was biting his lower lip every time his eyes raked over your curves.

"so, didn't know you were san's plus one. he never brings anyone here," mingi said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest as you followed them down the quiet upstairs hallway. you hadn't realized how massive this house was; every staircase and door seemed to lead to a place twice as big as the previous.

"mmm, i’m surprised he even invited someone at all," yunho hummed. he reached for a door handle and swung it open, revealing a room that caught you off guard. it was huge, centered by a king-sized bed and a massive gaming setup glowing with blue and purple led lights. posters of spiderman and vintage guns lined the walls, a strangely human touch in a house you thought only cared about booze and bodies.

"actually, wooyoung invited me," you admitted softly as both of them stopped dead in their tracks, turning their heads slowly to look at you with mirrored expressions of amusement and confusion.

"oh,” yunho asked, raising an eyebrow, because they expected you to be invited by san, not by someone else, but of course it was the cocky bastard. “did he really?"

before you could process the change in vibe, they moved. it was coordinated and effortless, like they’d done this a thousand times before. yunho stepped behind you, closing the bedroom door with a soft click, while mingi stepped into your personal space, forcing you to back up until your back hit yunho’s chest. bigger hands came up to rest on the tops of your shoulders, his thumbs tracing the line of your collarbone. mingi was right in front of you, looming over you with that toned chest, his heavy silver chains clinking as he leaned down.

"wooyoung has always been greedy," mingi whispered, his black sunglasses now on top of his head, so that you could see the hunger in his eyes. "but i think he's biting off more than he can chew."

can't blame the stoner, though. look at you, you’re smoking hot, and they can’t decide if they want to take you out for those drinks or just stay right here and see how loud you can get. would you scream, or are you more of the quiet ones? have you ever squirted before? do you want to know what the difference is between an average guy and two big guys when it came to size in pretty much every aspect of the human anatomy?

"we haven't even had a drink yet," yunho murmured against the shell of your ear, his breath hot, and you could smell the mint bubblegum he probably had, "we're perfectly sober and perfectly capable of taking care of you."

you felt a dizzying rush of adrenaline. your heart was hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. the attention was intoxicating: to be wanted by two men who looked like they’d been carved out of marble was every girl's secret fever dream.

"you’re trembling," mingi reached out, his large hand cupping your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip. "is it because you’re nervous, or because you like having both of us this close?"

they were sweet-talking you, their compliments falling like honey by telling you how lethal you looked in that dress, how your scent was driving them insane... a part of you, the part that had been feeling neglected by san's refusal to put a label on things, absolutely thrived under the tension.

if there's no ring on the finger, i’m a free agent, you thought, but then, the good girl in you flinched. you thought of san's frantic plea for you to stay home and how sweet he was to you. your morals were a heavy weight, pulling at your conscience even as your body leaned into the warmth of the two men surrounding you.

"you’re thinking too much," yunho whispered, his hands sliding down your arms to catch your wrists. "we’re just talking, princess. unless... you want more?"

"i... i should probably find san," you stammered, the name a little too heavy on your tongue.

"san?" yunho chuckled, the vibration of his chest hitting your shoulder blades. "san is a good guy. a really good guy. but he’s not here right now, is he? and like you said... he didn't even invite you."

mingi reached out, his finger hooking under the thin strap of your dress, tugging it just a millimeter lower. "san doesn't have to know everything. and we’re very good at keeping secrets. and in this house, we don't like to see someone as beautiful as you going to waste.”

you looked from mingi’s gaze to the closed door behind yunho. the temptation was a chance to be the center of the universe for the two most popular guys on campus. but the thought of the guilt waiting for you in the morning, and the look on san’s face if he ever found out, made your heart stutter in a way that wasn't just excitement. but as yunho’s hand found your waist and mingi’s gaze dropped to the lace of your dress, the guilt felt miles away. 

"just one ride," the taller whispered into your ear, his hands squeezing you. "we'll be real careful with you, i promise." 

your head was spinning. maybe that one puff of weed had actually done something, or maybe it was just by being sandwiched between two giants. you’d never even considered a threesome before; the thought usually passed quickly. but here, with mingi’s thumb dragging across your bottom lip and yunho’s breath hitching against your neck, you were ready to experiment.

you were nervous, sure, but it was a delicious kind of fear. they were big, capable, and the way they looked at you made you feel like something precious they were about to carefully unwrap… or destroy.

mingi tilted his head as he began to close the final few centimeters between your mouths. your eyes fluttered shut, your heart performing a frantic drumroll against your ribs — knock, knock.

"hyung, you here?"

the door creaked open before anyone could react, the wood hitting yunho’s back with a light thud. the sudden movement sent a chain reaction: yunho bumped into you, and you were shoved forward right into mingi’s bare chest.

yunho whipped his head around, his face a mask of pure irritation, only to see jongho standing there. the youngest looked completely unfazed, his expression calm as he blinked at his hyungs. from his angle, you were completely hidden behind yunho’s broad frame; all he could see was mingi looking disheveled.

"am i interrupting something?" jongho asked, his voice steady and almost dry.

"jjong, we’re a little busy right now," yunho grunted, trying to block the doorway again.

but jongho didn't move. he stepped into the room, and everyone in the house knew who was the strongest — he could probably snap a baseball bat with his bare hands, and none of the older guys wanted to find out what happened if they actually crossed him. more than that, he was a spoiled and manipulative genius who always got his way.

"san-hyung is downstairs looking like he’s about to have a heart attack," the youngest said, his eyes finally landing on you as you peeked out from behind yunho. a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "and i think i’d like to talk to our guest myself in private."

"hey, wait a minute–" mingi started, but jongho just raised an eyebrow.

"mingi-hyung, didn't you say you were going on a drink run? the girls downstairs are complaining about the warm beer. so go." it wasn't a suggestion, more like an order wrapped in a flat tone.

the wolf and the dog exchanged a look of pure defeat. they knew when they’d been outplayed. with a frustrated sigh, mingi put his sunglasses back, and yunho stepped aside, both of them lingering for a second to catch one last glimpse of you before trudging out like two kids who’d just had their favorite toy confiscated.

jongho waited until the door clicked shut before he turned to you. he didn't loom like the others; he just stood there with an air of absolute authority that was arguably more intimidating. and he was kind of adorable, wearing dark indigo denim jacket that matched his denim jeans, layered over a white tee, paired with a backwards navy baseball cap.

"you should be more careful," he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out to straighten a stray strand of your hair. "those two don't know how to play fair. luckily for you, i'm much better at keeping secrets."

he offered you his arm, a grin spreading across his face as he prepared to lead you away, leaving his hyungs to pick up whatever leftovers were left of the party, meaning the plenty of girls waiting for their chance, while he took the prize for himself.

jongho didn’t actually have any intention of making a move on you. while the others were losing their minds over the bet, he was mostly just participating to watch the absolute absurdy of it all. despite being the youngest, he was the only one who seemed to have a fully functioning brain tonight. sure, he had his girls, mostly friends-with-benefits situations that were low-stress and high-reward, but he wasn't about to act like a starving bear.

he noticed how glazed your eyes were, the weight of the night finally catching up to you. "you okay?"

"yeah, i think so... sorry, what is your name?" you asked, leaning slightly against the wall for support.

"jongho," he replied shortly, though not unkindly.

he led you up to the third floor, where the bass from the party felt more like a distant hum than a physical assault. it was a quiet hallway, mostly unused, leading to a spare room that felt like a sanctuary. he pushed the door open to reveal a space stacked with extra furniture and a mini-fridge that was, surprisingly, fully stocked. he grabbed a cold soda and handed it to you.

"this is where i hide when the girls my hyungs bring home start getting too loud, since it gets annoying at some point," he gestured toward the couch that was buried under a mountain of sprawled blankets. "sit, make yourself comfortable."

you sighed in relief and plopped down onto the pile of blankets, only to jump nearly three feet into the air when a muffled “ow!” came from underneath you.

you scrambled back, teleporting behind jongho and gripping the back of his shirt. "do you murder people in this house? don't tell me you guys are ghostface wannabes and there’s a body under there…”

jongho sighed, looking more tired than scared. he reached down and pulled back a thick duvet, revealing a very disheveled, very annoyed-looking guy with blonde hair.

it was yeosang. he’d been hiding out here for hours because wooyoung had been trying to pressure him into doing body shots off some random girl's stomach in the kitchen. the sleeping beauty was a sweetheart, really, a bit of a clueless himbo at times who just wanted to be left alone. he was technically part of the bet, but only because he didn't want to listen to the others nag him. actually doing something behind san's back sounded like way too much effort and drama for his taste.

"hyung? what are you doing here?" jongho asked.

yeosang rubbed his eyes, blinking up at you with a look that was more confused puppy than sex maniac. he looked like an adorable maltese for some reason. "hiding from wooyoung."

he sat up, his blonde hair sticking out in every direction, before putting his white cap on, matching the backward style of jongho. he looked at you, then at the soda in your hand, then back at jongho. "is the party over? is san cleaning everything alone again?"

"no," the youngest replied, "but i think she would like some peace and quiet after spending time with yunho and mingi."

yeosang looked at you with sympathy, something you didn’t expect from someone of their status. "sounds exhausting. you can hide here, too, if you want. i have snacks in the drawer and i promise i won't do anything funny… too tired for that stuff."

the more you talked to yeosang and jongho, the more the "scary frat" facade crumbled. they were actually pretty chill, and for a second, you felt like you were back at a slumber party rather than whatever this was. you decided to take yeosang up on his offer to hide, even helping them pick out a movie on the tv. seriously, even the storage room had a flat-screen. you wondered just how much money these guys’ parents were funneling into this house.

you ended up sandwiched in the middle of the couch. yeosang was to your right, jongho to your left, both manspreading a little, their knees occasionally brushing yours. you and yeosang were shamelessly sharing a bag of popcorn while jongho sat with his arms crossed, pretending he wasn't invested in the plot.

"i didn't take you for the type of guys to watch disney movies," you commented, staring at the screen where lightning mcqueen was begrudgingly repaving the road in radiator springs.

"it's a classic, and i like the soundtrack," yeosang sounded very serious, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

watching the movie made you feel a weird pang of nostalgia. you missed being a kid, but mostly, you just wished you were doing this with san. wait... san? you checked your phone and realized it had been over an hour and a half since wooyoung swept you away, and the whole strange fiasco started from having guys hitting on you every second.

"hey, i'll be right back," you said, shifting to get up. "where's the bathroom on this floor? i don't want to go back downstairs into that war zone."

"end of the hall to the left," jongho said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "don't get lost. the hallways up here are like a maze."

"thanks," you giggled, sliding out from between them.

you slipped into the hallway, as you found the door easily enough, but just as you reached for the handle, it swung open, and you froze.

standing there with long, raven hair that looked like silk, eyes that were sharp yet somehow incredibly soft. he was dressed in a way that felt both elegant and effortlessly swaggy, like he’d just stepped off a runway. the man stopped when he saw you. a beautiful smile spreading across his face as he took in your dolled-up appearance. he’d been waiting for his turn all night, watching his friends fail one by one from the sidelines. but now, in this empty hallway with no wooyoung to interrupt and no twin towers to hover... he had you all to himself.

"well," his voice smooth as he stepped out, effectively blocking your path to the door. "i was wondering when the star of the show would make her way up to me."

“excuse me?” you were utterly confused, because… the star of the show? you just wanted to use the bathroom before your bladder decided to quit on you. “nevermind, can you please move so i could use the bathroom? it's kind of an emergency.”

seonghwa chuckled, a sound that felt way too sophisticated for a house that currently smelled like spilled tequila. he stepped aside with a graceful sweep of his arm, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “of course. i wouldn’t want to be responsible for a tragedy.”

when you finished and stepped back out, you jumped a little to find him still standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. he looked like a vampire prince guarding his lover’s coffin.

“kind of creepy to wait, don’t you think?” you mumbled, though you weren't actually scared, as he had an aura that somehow felt strangely safe.

“maybe,” he admitted, pushing off the wall. “but guests aren't usually permitted on the third floor. what were you doing up here anyway?”

“i was with jongho,” you said quickly. you didn’t dare mention yeosang; if this guy was the type to report back to hq, you didn't want to get the blonde himbo in trouble for slacking off on his hosting duties.

“you were with jongho?” seonghwa repeated, his eyebrows shooting up.

“yeah?”

“okay,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if that explained everything. “well, now you’re going to be with me.”

before you could think, seonghwa’s hand found yours. his grip was firm but surprisingly gentle, his fingers laced through your own. he led you back toward the stairs, and as you descended, the wild life hit you again. the house was in full tilt now — people were wasted, dancing on furniture, and the air needed spiritual cleansing.

but the man didn't loosen his grip for a second, using his free hand to navigate through the crowd, keeping his body between you and the more rowdy guests. he leaned in close, his raven hair brushing your temple. “we’re heading toward the dj booth, okay? it’s easier to breathe there.”

he scanned the room as you moved. to the left, it was wooyoung, still looking irritated as he shared a joint with yeonjun and soobin. no, not going back to the competition. then he looked to the right and saw san, who was a little miserable, currently arguing with some guy who was trying to juggle empty glass bottles. thank you, next, he whispered to himself. the backyard was an option, the pool area was usually the final boss of any frat party, but at least the air wouldn't be recycled carbon dioxide.

the second the sliding glass doors opened, the temperature dropped. the backyard was illuminated by strings of fairy lights and the glow of the pool, where a few couples were already skinny dipping, their laughter echoing off the water. it was colder now, and you immediately began to tremble as the wind hit your bare shoulders.

seonghwa noticed instantly. without a word or a second of hesitation, he slipped his jacket off, draping it over you, the warmth of his body still clinging to the lining. you looked up at him, feeling small in his oversized coat. it was honestly unfair. how could a man be this beautiful? he was a frat boy, for god's sake. he was supposed to be a red flag, but right now, he felt like the only person in the house who actually knew how to take care of you.

“better?” he asked, giving you a small and reassuring smile.

“yes, thank you…” you dragged out the last word, trailing off as you looked up at him. so many attractive strangers had crossed your path tonight that you felt like the lead in a k-drama with a plot that was getting way too complicated to follow.

“seonghwa,” he said, nodding his head slowly as if he could read the confusion in your eyes. “my name is seonghwa.”

even his name was pretty. you felt a little shy suddenly, the weight of his jacket on your shoulders acting as a warm reminder of his presence. “i’m (name),” you whispered, feeling like you had to introduce yourself properly, completely unaware that your name had been the only topic of conversation in that house since three in the morning. 

you guys spent a few minutes just chit-chatting; he was flirting, you could tell, but he did it in such a... lovely way. it wasn't cocky like wooyoung or overwhelming like the twin towers. it was subtle, woven into his questions about whether you were actually having a good time, if the noise was too much, or if anyone had bothered you. he sounded like a true host, genuinely concerned with whether his beloved guest was satisfied, but his eyes told a different story. they lingered on your lips just a second too long every time you spoke.

he led you over to a deckchair that sat a bit like an outsider, tucked away in a shadowed corner far from the splashing of the pool. you sat down, the silence of the night wrapping around you, and for a second, you didn't know what to say, but he did.

“do you mind if i do this?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.

“do what?” you whispered back.

he didn't answer with words. instead, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering there before gently caressing your cheek. his touch was cool and smooth, making your breath hitch. seonghwa leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you were paralyzed when he finally captured your lips with his. you let out a soft gasp, surprised by the boldness of it, but within seconds, you were melting. it wasn't the hungry kiss you might have expected from a frat boy; it was sweet and incredibly soft. 

you found yourself moving in sync with him, your hands reaching up to grip the lapels of his jacket that still draped over your shoulders. seonghwa groaned softly into your mouth, his hands sliding to your waist to lift you as you ended up straddling his lap on the deckchair, the fabric of your dress riding up as you pressed closer to his warmth. his tongue swiped against yours, slow and possessive, as the make-out session felt more intense under the dim lights.

you were lost in him, your hands tangling in his raven hair, pulling him closer as you felt the solid muscle of his thighs beneath you. you didn't know about the bet, unaware that at this very moment, every guy in that house was technically down a hundred and fifty bucks. seonghwa had played the long game, waiting for the perfect moment to strike while the others played checkers. 

as his hands traveled down your back, pulling you flush against him, you forgot all about the crowded house, the good girl persona, and the realization hit you like a bucket of ice water. the haze of the party, the weed, and the thrill of the chase evaporated the second you felt seonghwa’s hand slide up your thigh. you weren't supposed to be here, more so, you weren't supposed to be making out with a raven-haired stranger while san, the boy who actually cared about you, was inside worrying himself to death.

you pulled away abruptly, your chest heaving. seonghwa’s lips were swollen and red, a faint sheen of spit making them look even more inviting in the moonlight. he looked confused, his dark eyes searching yours for the reason behind the sudden pull.

"what’s wrong, darling?"

"i–... uh, i–" 

you couldn't even find the words. your brain was a mess of strawberry soda and guilt. the faint taste of expensive wine on his tongue lingered in your mouth, and for some reason, the alcohol made you feel like you were parched.

"you are what?"

"i'm thirsty," you managed to choke out, making seonghwa chuckle. that made you feel like a child caught in a lie. he didn't push you, instead, he stood up from the deckchair. you were still perched in his lap, so you wrapped your legs around his waist for a split second as he rose, feeling the solid strength of his body before he gently set you down on your feet.

"come on, then," he said, taking your hand again. "let’s get you something to drink."

leading you back into the house, navigating you through the mess the kitchen had become, and pulled you toward the massive fridge. he knew you weren't a heavy drinker; he’d tasted the sweet, non-alcoholic soda on your lips during the make-out session. he bent down, his back turned to you as he scanned the bottom shelf.

"would fanta or cola do? or i think there’s some more of that strawberry stuff in the back..." he whispered to himself, reaching for a bottle. "wait, do you want ice with that or–"

he turned around, a can in each hand, and a question on his lips. the kitchen was empty. his expensive jacket was draped neatly over the marble counter, but you were gone. seonghwa’s eyes scanned the room, his jaw tightening as he realized he’d just been played. the gentleman of the house had lost his prize in the three seconds it took to pick a soda.

just who decided to be a thief this time?

the music in the living room suddenly shifted, the bass dropping into a remix that made the floorboards vibrate with a new kind of energy. and there, tucked into the shadows of the hallway leading to the dj booth, was the culprit — hongjoong.

he had his hand clamped firmly around your wrist, his whole vibe screaming "i’m doing you a favor". he didn't look like the others, well, at least the half, because the orange haired man had the same calming energy jongho and yeosang have. he looked like the captain of a sinking ship who was determined to be the last one standing.

"alright, sunshine. you've had enough for tonight," he muttered, pulling you into the darkness of the booth before seonghwa could even think to follow. "it's time you actually have fun."

what the fuck was even happening? you felt like a ragdoll being tossed between a pack of extremely attractive nutcrackers. one second, you were melting into the raven-haired prince of the backyard, and the next you were being yanked through a sweaty crowd by the guy in charge of the music. you weren’t even drunk, and you couldn't decide if that made the situation better or infinitely worse.

san was right. he was so, so right. you should have stayed in your pajamas, eating takeout and binge-watching some comfort show. but as the bass vibrated through the floorboards of the dj platform, rattling your very bones, any lingering anxiety was drowned out by the volume.

hongjoong was in his element. neon buttons glowed under his quick fingers as he tapped out rhythms, his headphones pushed back off one ear so he could hear the crowd’s roar. he was bumping his head to the beat, focused energy radiating off him. for a moment, you actually felt safe here, tucked away on this elevated platform where the ocean of people couldn't reach you.

looking down from this height, the scale of the party was terrifying. the house was a literal club, and you found yourself wondering again where the hell these guys got the money for a place with a professional-grade dj booth and tiered platforms. you scanned the crowd for a familiar face, but the others were gone. wooyoung was probably lost in a cloud of smoke somewhere; yunho, mingi, and seonghwa were likely still hunting for you; and jongho and yeosang were probably still hiding in their quiet sanctuary.

as for san... he was nowhere to be seen. you imagined him playing bouncer or frantically cleaning up a broken bottle in some corner of the house.

after a few more minutes of well-done and smooth transitions, hongjoong flipped a switch to play a pre-mixed set. slumping back into his chair, his chest heaving as he threw his head back and took a long, burning sip of what looked like whiskey. he finally turned his attention to you. he wasn't looking at you with the same hungry competition the others had. he was just... curious. taking in the tiny dress, the way you were trembling just slightly, and the fact that your lipstick was definitely smudged from your detour with seonghwa.

he’d seen the beginning of the night, and how wooyoung had practically snatched you out of san’s arms. then you’d vanished into the house, becoming a ghost until he happened to walk into the kitchen and saw you standing there like a deer in headlights.

"you're not what i expected," he muttered, the whiskey raspy in his throat. "i mean, you're really pretty, i get why they're all acting like idiots over you."

taking another sip, his gaze drifting back to the crowd. "but i see why san wanted you to stay away. you don't belong in a place like this. you're not exactly innocent, but this house... it's a meat grinder, sunshine. and tonight, you're the only thing on the menu."

he wasn't flirting; he was being honest, which was somehow more intimate than anything that had happened. reaching out, his thumb brushing a stray smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth, his touch surprisingly tender.

"you look like you're about to burst into tears or pass out," the dj noted, a small, lopsided smirk tugging at his lips. "so, do you want me to keep you up here where it's safe, or are you ready to go find your boy and get the hell out of this circus?"

the moment hongjoong mentioned san, the dam finally broke. your eyes welled up, the neon lights blurring into streaks of pink and blue. you felt small, overstimulated, and utterly exhausted by the relentless pursuit of these men who seemed to be playing a game you didn't have the rulebook for.

"i just want to find him," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked at hongjoong. "this party is... it’s lit, i guess, but… you guys are exactly why i usually hate men. what is actually wrong with you people?"

"hate the game, not the players. it does things to the ego.” hongjoong didn't take offense, just looked at you with a knowing sort of pity, the whiskey glass clicking against his rings. “but if you're looking for san, he's probably in the gaming room, the one with the pool table and the arcade setups, or his actual bedroom. second floor, last door on the left at the very end of the hall. he usually retreats there when it gets too much to handle."

you blinked, wiping a stray tear with the back of your hand. "you have a gaming room too?” god, you are going to start stealing their jewelry and selling it on ebay, those guys are unnecessarily rich. you turned to leave, determined to bolt toward the stairs, but hongjoong’s hand snaked out and caught your wrist again. his grip wasn't aggressive, but it was firm.

“you sure you want to go alone?” he asked, glancing at the chaotic sea of people below. “i can walk you. honestly, i’m kind of worried about you. you look like you’re one bad interaction away from using those heels as a lethal weapon.”

you gulped, looking down at your sharp stilettos, well, he had a point. the house felt like a gauntlet now, and you didn't want to run into yunho or seonghwa again, or anyone else that was not san. it was not because they weren't attractive, but because your heart was already at its capacity. “you’ll actually help me find him?”

“i could use a break anyway,” he muttered, hopping down from the platform. “so, lets go.”

the walk through was like one of the rings in hell. hongjoong led the way like a captain cutting through a storm. you checked the gaming room first: a massive space filled with neon signs and the clinking of pool balls. you saw some familiar faces through the haze of smoke; hyunjin was leaning against a wall looking ethereal, while felix and jeongin were laughing over a game of air hockey. a few girls from your major were there too, looking far more composed than you felt. but san wasn't there.

“bedroom it is,” hongjoong said, pointing toward the dark hallway on the second floor. just then, his walkie-talkie buzzed, the crowd was getting restless without a dj. “crap. i gotta get back. you think you can make it the last five meters?”

“yeah,” you murmured, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “thank you, hongjoong.”

he gave you a polite nod and disappeared back into the crowd. finally, you were so close. you could see the door at the end of the hall, the one san had probably locked to keep the world out. you took a step, your heart leaping in anticipation, but before you could reach the handle, a hand shot out from the shadows.

your wrist was snatched, and before you could even scream, you were spun around. your back hit the wall with a muffled thud, the air leaving your lungs in a sharp puff. it was dim in this corner of the hallway, the only light coming from the flickering strobe lamps downstairs. you looked up, eyes wide and heart hammering against your ribs.

“found you, dollface." 

the voice purred. it was low, cocky, and dripped with that signature bratty confidence that could only belong to one person.

“wooyoung?” you breathed, your pulse skyrocketing.

he was leaning over you, his blonde hair glowing in the shadows, his face inches from yours. he looked devastatingly handsome, alluring if anything else, and a part of you wanted to push him away and run to san, but another part of you was currently being influenced by the magnetism of these men. he hadn't touched you anywhere but your wrist, and even that grip was loosening into a caress, but the way he looked at you made your knees weak. the stoner occupied the space around you, his arm braced against the wall by your head, trapping you so you don’t even think about escaping.

it felt like a twisted otome game, and you were currently stuck on the most difficult route. you were so close to the san ending, however, your choices led you back to the wooyoung ending. his eyes dropped to your lips, his smirk growing wider as he realized he finally had you alone, far away from any other distractions and disruptions.

"you've been a very busy girl tonight," he whispered, his thumb tracing the pulse point on your wrist. "i turn my back for one second and you're off with the twin towers, then making out with mister dracula in the garden. you're quite the little social butterfly, no?"

"i was just looking for san," you breathed, though the way wooyoung was looking at your neck made it hard to focus on your mission.

"san is boring," wooyoung countered, tilting his head. the lollipop stick poked out of the corner of his mouth as he gave you his signature cocky smirk. "he doesn't know what to do with a girl like you. he's too busy being a good guy to realize that you're starving for someone to actually take what they want."

he leaned in closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. "i don't play by anyone’s rules, dollface. and i definitely don't like sharing my toys once i've picked them out."

your heart hammered against your ribs. you knew san was just behind that door at the end of the hall, but with the blond pressing into you and his eyes promising every kind of trouble, the door felt miles away.

for some fucked up reason, you didn't push him away. maybe the attention was a drug, and wooyoung was leaning in to deliver the highest dose yet.

"but i–... i'm with san," you tried to defend yourself, the words sounding weak even to your own ears.

"but you’re not," he countered instantly, "if you were his, you wouldn't be wandering my house looking like a frantic little stray. if you were his, i wouldn't even be allowed to look at you, let alone do... this."

he pulled the lollipop from his mouth with a wet pop and pressed the sticky, apple-flavored candy against your lips to hush you. you stared at him, eyes wide, as he watched you with a terrifying yet pleasant smile. you parted your lips just enough to take a small and tentative suck of the candy. it was sickly sweet, and the heat in wooyoung’s eyes flared. he was thinking about indirect kisses and if it count, about the fact that your mouth was now coated in his taste.

his hand, the one that had been caging you against the wall, moved. his fingers began to play with the ends of your hair, twirling a strand slowly before his palm grazed the shell of your ear. he was high, but the weed only seemed to sharpen his focus.

"look at you," he praised, his voice dropping to a filthy whisper as his other hand slid down to find the curve of your waist to hold you in place, "so obedient. such a pretty little thing. you have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you? you've got every man in this house ready to tear each other apart just for a glimpse of this."

he leaned in, his breath hot against your neck, cologne mixed with the alcohol. "seonghwa might think he won because he got a little taste in the garden, but he’s a gentleman, and i'm not. i don't want just a taste, princess. i want the whole thing."

his fingers hooking under your chin to tilt your head back. he pulled the lollipop from your mouth and carelessly flicked it onto the floor, as it clattered against the hardwood. wooyoung stepped even closer, shoving his leg firmly between your knees, forcing your stance open as he pinned you against the wall with his body. his mouth crashed against yours, and it wasn't like the polite kiss seonghwa had given you. this was rough, desperate, and tasted of sweet apple and smoke. his tongue swept into your mouth, claiming you with a hint of arrogance that made your head spin.

you were melting into him, your fingers clutching at the soft fabric of his sweater as his leg pressed higher, the movement making your breath hitch into the kiss. seonghwa might have secured his money, but wooyoung was determined to leave a mark on your soul that san would never be able to scrub off.

the darkness of the hallway felt like a heavy velvet curtain, swallowing the two of you whole and muffling the distant rhythm of the party downstairs. thank god it was dark, because the way you were falling apart under his touch was embarrassing. you were barely anyone in this social circle, noone special, just a girl with a soft spot for a guy who couldn't commit… but you weren't just a girl; you were san’s girl, and in this house, that made you the ultimate trophy. what’s not yours is always better. it's the oldest temptation in the world, the forbidden fruit that tastes twice as sweet because of the guilt, and wooyoung was a man who lived for the taste of things he wasn't supposed to have. 

the frat was beyond caring about the bet or the money at this point; he was driven by the need to mark you as his own. his kisses turned angry and hungry, a desperate struggle for dominance as his tongue tangled with yours, deep and demanding.

"fuck," he groaned into your mouth, his hands finally losing their patience, leaving your haird to travel down, as his palm burned through the thin fabric of your dress until he reached the hem.

you let out a muffled moan into his mouth when you felt his cool rings graze the bare skin of your thigh. he didn't hesitate, his fingers hooking into the silk and dragging it upward, exposing you to the chilled air of the hallway just for a second before his warm hand replaced it. he was all over you, knowing exactly where to press, digging into the soft flesh of your hip as he hitched your leg higher over his own, pinning you so tightly against the wall that you could feel the frantic thrum of his heart against your own chest.

"you’re so intoxicating," he growled against your lips, his voice jagged with edge of lust. "san has no idea what he’s wasting. he treats you like you’re made of glass, but i know you want to be touched like this, don't you? you want someone to stop asking for permission."

his hand slid higher under the dress, as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, then moved down to trail wet, biting marks along your jawline. he was messing with your brain, his scent and his heat overriding every moral code you’d walked in with. he was filthy, whispering praises and promises into the crook of your neck that made your toes curl inside your heels. his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your throat, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark so dark that it would tell everyone exactly whose hands had been on you.

the sexual tension rolling off him was suffocating, a tension that made the air feel like it was vibrating. he was a predator who had finally cornered his prey, and he was taking his time savouring the kill. every time you tried to catch your breath, he stole it back, his mouth relentless, his hands wandering into places that made you feel dangerously exposed. 

wooyoung was making you his, piece by piece, right under san's nose, and the fucked up part was that you were leaning into it, your fingers tangling in his hair, begging for what san had never dared to give you. fuck the bet, fuck the already broken rules, fuck the hundred dollars… all he wanted was to fuck you, and you were seconds away from letting him do it right there against the wall.

but suddenly, the spark was gone.

the weight of wooyoung’s body was ripped away so violently that you stumbled forward, your hands grasping at empty air. a sickening sound echoed in the narrow hallway as the blonde was shoved aside, his back hitting the opposite wall with a force that made the framed pictures rattle.

you blinked, your vision blurry and your lips swollen, expecting to see anyone, but … san, whose chest was heaving, hair disheveled, and eyes blown wide with a mixture of disgust and pure devastation. he had been looking for you all night, searching every corner of that crowded and sweaty house, only to find you pinned under his best friend. the betrayal was written in the lines of his face. he looked hurt, like his heart had been physically cracked open, but he didn't give himself time to process the pain.

wooyoung stayed leaning against the wall, rubbing his arm where the shove had left a dull ache. he didn't look guilty; he just stared at san with a defiant look, his chest still pumping with the leftover adrenaline of the make-out session. your brows furrowed, your heart dropping into your stomach as you looked at wooyoung, your mouth opening to ask if he was okay, but before a single word could leave your lips, a hand clamped around yours.

"we are leaving," san’s grip was tight, not enough to bruise, but to show he wasn't letting you go for anything in the world. 

he didn't look at wooyoung, didn't even look at you. he just turned and dragged you down the stairs, weaving through the drunken crowd like a man on a mission. the noise of the party was a dull roar in your ears, a background hum to the frantic beat of your own heart. you felt the cool night air hit your face as he yanked open the front door and slammed it shut behind you. the silence of the driveway was deafening. san was already rummaging through the pocket of his jeans, the metallic jingle of his car keys sharp in the quiet night as he headed for where he has parked.

you stood there, your dress wrinkled and your lipstick smeared, unable to even process what was happening. the transition from the filthy heat of wooyoung to the icy fury of san was too much. you were caught in the middle of a war you didn't even know was being fought.

san opened the door for you, and didn't say a word as you slid into the passenger seat, and he didn't wait for you to settle before he was around the other side, throwing himself into the driver's seat. he started the engine, the roar of the car filling the small space, but he didn't put it in gear.

instead, he sat there, taking a few deep breaths, the sound of his lungs struggling for air the only thing cutting through the tension. a disappointed sigh escaped him as he ran both hands down his face, dragging the skin tight before throwing his head back. his skull hitting the headrest sounded like a punctuation mark. finally, he turned his head to look at you, taking in your trembling frame and your confused, teary eyes.

"this is why i didn't want you here," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his anger. "or anywhere near them. because my fucking god, (name). i told you to listen to me and you didn't. you just do whatever you want because you’re so sure you can control it. you’re so sure you know them."

"san, i–"

"i was worried sick!" he shouted, his hands slamming against the steering wheel. "i turned around for five seconds and you were gone. i’ve been pacing this house, checking every room, thinking someone might have spiked your drink, drugged you... and then i find you in that hallway with him?"

you felt the sting of his words, the guilt of the make-out session with wooyoung still hot on your skin, but the confusion was winning.

"i didn't know things would go that way!" you shot back, your voice trembling as you fought to defend yourself. "i was just trying to have fun. i didn't know i’d be snatched up every thirty minutes by someone else. and i still don't understand why you’re so overprotective, it’s just a party, san. it’s normal for guys to flirt!"

san let out a dry and very bitter laugh, as he looked at you, his eyes full with a truth that was about to shatter everything.

"you think that was flirting? you think they just happened to find you attractive at the same time?" he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a deadly warning, "they fucking made a bet about you, (name). the second you walked through that door, you weren't a guest. you were another doll to be toyed with. they've been betting money and putting their goddamn egos on the line for your body. who could get a kiss, who could get you in bed... it was a bet."

the world felt like it stopped spinning. the air in your lungs turned to lead as the pieces of the night finally clicked into place — the way wooyoung snatched you, the way seonghwa waited by the bathroom, the way mingi and yunho hovered. it wasn't attraction, it was just for the thrill of the game.

"a bet?" you whispered, the word tasting like ash. "they... they were betting on me?"

san turned away, unable to look at the heartbreak on your face. "three hundred, that was the price for their best friend's girl."

suddenly, the guilt was gone, and you felt pathetic. you felt used, and most of all, you felt betrayed by the one person who was supposed to have your back.

"and you kept that away from me?" you demanded, your voice rising through choked out sob. "you knew they were treating me like a piece of meat for money and you didn't tell me? you just let me walk into that house like a lamb to the slaughter?"

"i was trying to protect you!"

"no, san!" you cried, a tear finally escaping and rolling down your cheek. "you weren't protecting me. you were protecting your pride. you let me look like a fool while your friends took turns seeing how much they could get away with. you let me stay in the dark while they were doing this behind your back. god, i feel so disgusting."

the car was vibrating with the force of your shared breathing, a heavy, suffocating silence following the revelation of the bet. the tears were coming fast now, hot and thick, blurring the dashboard lights as you curled into yourself. you felt like a prize in a game you never signed up for, and every touch you’d enjoyed, every smirk from wooyoung and every soft word from seonghwa, even being sandwiched between yunho and mingi, now felt like a stain. you have to realize that only three of them kept their hands off you, and you don’t even know if it was genuine or just for tonight.

"i was going to tell you…" san’s voice broke, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. "i swear, i tried, but you wouldn't listen! you were so determined to prove me wrong, that you didn't give me a single second to explain why i was actually terrified."

"you should have said it anyway!" you shouted back. "you let me go in there. you let me... i let them touch me, san. i let wooyoung–"

"don't," he snapped, as he threw the car into motion, the tires screeching against the asphalt as he tore out of the driveway. "don't talk about him. don't talk about any of them."

"where are we going?" you asked through a hiccup, your voice small and broken.

"i'm driving you home," he said. his eyes fixed forward, because he didn’t want to take a look back. he didn't want you near that house, or even remembering the address, and he damn sure didn't want you anywhere near his "brothers" ever again. "i'm taking you back to your apartment and i'm making sure you forget you ever set foot on that street."

he was driving with in silence, both of you too scared to say something that will dig an even deeper hole. san loved you so much and he knew he was at fault. he should have been firmer, should have told his brothers to go to hell the moment the bet was mentioned, but he’d tried to play the middle ground and lose you in the process.

"i'm sorry," he whispered after a few blocks, his voice thick with unshed tears. "i’m so sorry i didn't keep you safe, i just... i just wanted one thing in my life that they couldn't touch."

"you don't have me, san," you murmured, looking out the window as the city lights streaked by. "you never made us official, and they saw an opening."

san’s grip on the wheel tightened. he didn't say anything for the rest of the drive, because you were right.

when he finally pulled up to your building, and parked the car, before letting you out, he turned to you, his eyes burning with sorrow, because he didn't want to fight anymore.

"i'm not letting you go upstairs thinking you're just some bet."

before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was a world away from wooyoung’s filth or seonghwa’s grace. this was raw, and completely, utterly yours. it was the kind of kiss that demanded a label, a sweet treat he was never going to let anyone else take a bite again. you let out a broken sob into his mouth, your hands finding his chest, and as the kiss deepened, the anger began to melt into a desperate need to erase every other touch you'd felt.

but as you pulled away and weakly smiled at him, even stepping out of his car… you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

the walk from the car to your front door was agonizing, because he followed you like a kitten getting attached to the person who showed him kindness once. the second you stepped inside your apartment, you turned around, ready to unleash every bit of remaining rage, even if he kissed you to tone it down,

"you're a total psycho, you're an idiot for keeping that from me, and you're a–"

your words were cut off by the sudden, overwhelming force of his body crashing into yours. wrapping his arms around you so tightly it felt like he was trying to pull you into his very ribcage. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath shaky and hot against your skin.

"im sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry for shouting, for raising my voice, and for letting you go in there."

one of his hands moved to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair and stroking it tenderly. the good boy facade was completely gone, replaced by a man who was genuinely terrified of losing the only thing that made his life bearable.

"i thought i lost you tonight," he muffled into your shoulder. "i watched them circle you like some maniacs and i felt like i was stuck. they don't understand. they think everything is a joke... but you're the only part of my life that's real. i'm so tired, (name). i'm tired of being their goody two-shoes friend while they disrespect the one person i actually care about. i'd choose you a million times over them. i just want to be here… with you."

you felt your resolve crumble. pulling back slighlty to look at him, seeing the honesty in his glassy eyes. he wasn't the perfect and composed san right now. he was hurt, possessive, and deeply, deeply in love with you.

"don't ever keep something like that from me again," you breathed, your hands reaching up to cup his face.

"i'll spend the rest of my life making sure you know exactly what you're worth to me. and it's a hell of a lot more than a hundred dollars."

he leaned in then, his lips meeting yours in another kiss that was so emotional, and filled with a silent plea for forgiveness. as he backed you up toward the bedroom, his hands never leaving your skin, you knew the night was far from over. he was going to reclaim every inch of you, erasing the ghost of every other man's touch until there was nothing left but him.

"i will make you mine.”

"and how would you do that?" 

"by showing you.”

he has never been here before but he knew where the bedroom was. living in a house as big as a mansion has its perks when it comes to orientation. 

san didn’t wait for another word, leading you to the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as he sat you down. he started with your shoes, kneeling on the floor like a devotee at an altar. sliding the heels off, his thumbs grazing the arches of your feet before he looked up at you. the eye contact was unyielding, because he wasn't just looking at you; he was looking into you, searching for the girl he’d almost lost to the devil.

"i’m going to wash every part of that house off you.”

he stood up and began to undress you, but it wasn't a rushed fumbling. it was pure body worship, as he worked the zipper of your dress down with steady fingers, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered: the slope of your shoulders, the dip of your collarbone, the delicate curve of your ribs. he lingered over the spots where you felt most vulnerable, his lips soft and warm, murmuring praises against your skin that made your heart swell.

"you’re so beautiful, (name). so perfect… i don't deserve to even look at you," he whispered against your stomach, his breath hitching as he felt you tremble.

he let you undress him then, your fingers shaking as you pulled his shirt over his head and fumbled with his pants. as his shirt hit the floor, you took in the sight of him: the broad shoulders, the sharp lines of his torso, his toned chest and stomach. you had seen him like this countless times before, but now he was entirely yours. his touch remained sacred as his lips found yours in a kiss that tasted like a regret for the sins he committed.

moving down your body, his jaw grazing your throat. he paused when he saw the faint, darkening mark on your neck, the one wooyoung had left. san wasn’t angry at you, but he had to reclaim what was his. his tongue swirling over the bruised skin before he began to suck and bite, replacing with a hickey that was deeper, and fueled by a love that wooyoung couldn't even comprehend.

you let out a broken moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. he moved lower, his mouth worshiping your breasts and then the soft skin of your stomach. you felt your eyes flutter shut, the pleasure and the overwhelmedness finally catching up to you, but san wouldn't let you hide. 

"eyes on me, angel," he commanded softly, "i want you to see who’s holding you. i want you to know exactly who you belong to… so look at me."

you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze while he positioned himself over you making you fully lay down, as he braced himself on his forearms, framing your face with his hands, since he wanted to see everything. every flush of your skin and every flutter of your eyelids. his cock was twitching against your thigh, heavy and wanting, but he waited until you nodded, until you pulled him down for one more lingering kiss.

san sank into you slowly, as he filled you, and didn't move right away, just stayed there, buried deep. you let out a shaky breath, your nails digging into his biceps.

"you feel so good," he groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. "so beautiful, you're the only thing that's ever felt right, baby.”

he began to move, and it was the most honest thing you had ever felt. his thrusts were slow and deliberate, reaching deep enough to make your toes blunt against the sheets. every time he pushed into you, he tilted his head to kiss you again and again, as if he was trying to breathe his own soul into you.

"that's it, look at me," he whispered, you forced your eyes open, meeting his blown-out pupils. "i've got you, yeah? i've got you, angel. no one else is ever going to touch you and see you like this.”

his fingers interlacing with yours and pinning your hands beside your head, keeping you open and vulnerable beneath him. he started to pick up the pace, but his gaze never wavered. watching the way your throat worked as you swallowed a sob, the way your chest heaved, and the way your skin flushed.

“s-san… ahh-” a truly blissful symphony of your moans and whines graced his ears.

"you're so beautiful," he praised, because it was so hard for him not to worship your divine being. "angel, you're so precious to me. i don't think you even understand. you're my everything, princess. i won’t let anything happen to you again."

the way he said it with this bleeding sincerity in his tone, was what finally broke you. the tears started to spill over, tracking down on your face. you were crying because you were overwhelmed by the weight of being loved this much. you were crying because, for the first time all night, you didn't feel like a prize or a paycheck. you felt so incredibly cherished and adored.

"i love you," you choked out, your voice breaking as you arched your back into him, seeking more of his warmth. "i love you so much, san."

his breath hitched, and for a second, he stopped moving entirely. san looked at you with such aching tenderness that it hurt to look away. 

"i love you more," he promised, leaning to kiss the tears away from your cheeks. "more than anything."

his rhythm become a little desperate as he felt you tightening around him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, as he praised you through every heavy breath. the eye contact afterward was relentless. every time he moved, he watched your reaction become a cocktail of pleasure and pain. he called you every sweet name he’d ever kept bottled up — his girl, his angel, his princess, his entire world.

the pace picking up as you realized then that san didn't just want your body; he wanted your peace, trust, and your heart.

"mine," he whispered against your lips, the word final and absolute. "forever mine."

he let out a choked sound, finding his rhythm, his movements becoming more urgent but never losing that slow and worshipping edge, even if he reached his peak, his body shaking with the force of it, his voice a broken whisper in your ear. san wasn't just making love to you… he was rewriting the night, scrubbing away every lingering shadow of the fratness.

you couldn't hold back anymore. your back arched off the mattress as your climax finally crashed over you, wave after wave of intense, toe-curling pleasure that felt like it would never end.your juices spilled out, coating him, the wet and slick sound that only fueled his own undoing. your pussy squeezed him, gripping him so hard he couldn't help but chuckle. san was so sensitive, that he came deep inside you as he emptied himself into you, wanting to feel every last contraction of your body as you held onto him like he was your only life support. this wasn't the first time tonight, and it wouldn't be the last. 

you had lost count somewhere around the fifth or sixth time he’d made you come. his stamina was insane, fueled by very possessive energy that kept him going long after most men would have collapsed. yet, through every round, he remained careful. it was the most passionate vanilla sex you’d ever experienced.

"one more, angel, just one more," managing to somehow say it, tone teasing as he didn't stop, even as your body began to tremble with the aftershocks of your nth orgasm. he kept the pace steady, his large hands sliding under your hips to tilt you upward, deepening the connection between your bodies until the stars were dancing behind your closed eyelids.

"eyes on me, baby. don't go anywhere," his thumbs hooked into your hips, "look at how you take me. look at how perfect you are… you were made for me, (name). only for me."

the praise was a constant hum against your skin, interspersed with wet kisses that claimed your lips, your jaw, and the sensitive hollow of your shoulder. he was worshiping you with a filthiness that felt sacred — his words were dirty, his touch was demanding, but his eyes were overflowing with a devotion that made you feel like a real angel. every time you thought you reached your limit, he woud find a new angle, and murmur another good girl or that’s it, princess until you were spiraling all over again.

the final peak was a slow-motion collision. you felt the tension coil at the base of your spine, a spark that traveled through every nerve until you were arching your back, a silent scream caught in your throat. san felt it too; his movements became frantic, his breathing hitching into grunts and whines.

"my sweet angel," he groaned, his voice a broken prayer. "just like that, give it all to me."

as you shattered for the final time, san followed you as he filled you completely, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. he didn't pull back even an inch; instead, he pushed deeper, burying himself against your cervix as his spent muscles spasmed. he stayed there, making sure every last drop of his release stayed exactly where he wanted it.

finally, his strength gave out. san collapsed on top of you, his heavy and muscular frame pinning you into the mattress. he was a dead weight, chest heaving against yours, but you didn't mind the pressure. you needed to feel the crushing reality of him to convince yourself that the nightmare of the party was finally over. your own chest was rising and falling in frantic bursts, your lungs burning as you tried to catch your breath. 

san tilted his head, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead as he found the strength to plant a shaky kiss on the side of your neck. "you did so good for me, baby," he whispered. "mm, you're safe. i'm right here."

you reached up, your fingers trembling as you stroked his hair, pulling him even closer if that was even possible. the tears were still there, leaking from the corners of your eyes. you loved him so much, a love that was messy and protective and finally, finally official.

san stayed there for a long time, just breathing you in, until he started to calm down and eventually, he shifted, groaning as he braced himself on his elbows. when he slowly pulled out, the sudden loss of him made you let out a soft, confused whimper.

"w-what?" you breathed, reaching out blindly for him, your mind still a hazy mess of dopamine and exhaustion.

"shhh, i'm not going anywhere, angel," he murmured, a sweet expression on his face that was a far cry from the possessive man who had just dismantled you. he looked almost shy, his bottom lip tucked slightly as he brushed a stray hair from your damp forehead. "i’m going to take care of you. also... where is your bathroom?"

you pointed wordlessly toward the door, watching him as he padded across the room. you had been with guys before, but aftercare had always been just a concept. usually, it was a quick reach for a phone or a clumsy apology before they fell asleep. nobody had ever looked at you with this much tenderness after the fact.

a few minutes later, he was back, gently coaxing you off the bed. you felt like jelly, your legs trembling so much you probably would have hit the floor if he hadn't caught you. he carried you to the bathroom. you didn't have a bathtub, just a standard shower, but san turned it into a sanctuary.

the man who had spent the last hour destroying your cervix and marking his territory was now behaving like a complete sweetheart. preparing the water at a perfect temperature, keeping you steady against his chest. he was so thorough and so gentle in helping you clean yourself. even started blowing bubbles at you until you were giggling despite your exhaustion. san was an adorable, muscular toddler who happened to be deeply in love with you.

once you were both clean and dry, you managed to dig out an oversized shirt for him. well, as oversized as a shirt could be for someone with his build. it clung to his biceps and chest in a way that made your heart skip, but he didn't complain. he looked comfortable, and entirely at peace in your space.

san insisted on changing your sheets, tossing the messy ones into the laundry basket while you sat on the edge of the bed in your robe. he wouldn't let you lift a finger. finally, he pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning you in a nest of warmth, smelling like your shampoo and body wash.

he spent the next hour just holding you, his fingers tracing the intricate lines of your palms as if he were trying to memorize your future. his lips were never far from your skin, pressing kisses here and there, telling you how he’d felt the very first time he saw you — how he’d known even then that you were trouble for his heart. he talked about the pain of watching you near his friends tonight, the suffocating fear that they would ruin the one beautiful thing he had.

you felt secure, tucked into him, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his biceps. you still couldn't quite believe he was all yours, that one of the frats had finally broken all the rules for you.

"san?" you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

"hm?" he hummed, his chest vibrating against your ear as he tightened his hold.

"what are you going to do about your friends?"

he didn't tense up this time, just pulled you closer, his chin resting comfortably on the top of your head as he spooned you, his strong arms acting as a literal shield against the rest of the world. he took a deep breath, the scent of your shampoo calming the last of his spiked up nerves.

"probably move out," he admitted, sounding a little unsure. "or at the very least, have a very serious talk about boundaries and what the word no actually means. i can't be in that environment anymore if it means they think they can treat you like that."

the quiet room was a contrast to the chaos you’d escaped, the only sound being san’s heartbeat beneath your ear. as the adrenaline finally ebbed away, a small seed of worry poked through the haze. you wondered about the shattered friendships, the tension in the house, and the weight he was carrying just to keep you safe.

"stop overthinking, baby." sensing your shift in mood, san tightened his grip, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. "don't worry about me. none of that matters right now."

he began to ramble again, a soft stream of consciousness designed to drown out your racing thoughts. he talked about the most mundane things such as how he wanted to take you to that cafe by the river next weekend, how he’d seen a sunset a few days ago that made him think about a picnic date, and how he couldn't wait to just wake up next to you without a single place to be.

you felt yourself beginning to drift, your limbs turning to lead as his voice acted as a tether to a world where everything was finally okay. 

"you're my everything," he whispered into the crown of your head, "sweet dreams, my love."

with one final kiss on your hair, he let out a soft, contented sigh, closing his eyes, his body finally going slack against yours, his heart full with the simple joy of knowing that he had finally won the only game that ever mattered. for the first time in months, he was happy and whole now that he was finally resting beside his one and only. 

by the time you woke up, it was already afternoon the very same day. you found san in the kitchen, still wearing the oversized shirt you’d given him, stretching tight across his back, the hem barely reaching his thighs, and it's now that you noticed the dolce & gabana boxers. he looked like a devoted husband, humming to himself as he tossed pasta in a pan, spending the last hour in your kitchen to prepare a simple meal for you.

"good morning, sunshine," he murmured, turning with a smile so bright it felt like he was fighting with the sun itself. "i wanted to make sure you ate something before i had to go." 

you sat at the dining table, resting your head on your palm, as he served you a plate, and then giving you a kiss on your cheek.

"i just... i don't want you to go back there," you whispered, reaching out for the pepper, "yunjin is going to kill me when she finds out i let you sleep in my bed. she’ll probably burn the bed with both of us in it. "

he then watched you enjoy the pasta, sipping you water, giving you everything you need, and even washing the dishes afterwards. gosh, can’t he propose already? unfortunately, all good things come to an end, that resulted in him putting his clothes from yesterday and standing infront of your door.

"you know you can stay here.”

"as much as i’d love to hide out here forever and play house, i have to go back." pressing a quick peck on your lips, but his gaze turning serious as he pulled back and walked away to the elevator. "i'll call you the second i’m done. i promise, just let me handle this."

the frat house was silent when san stepped through the front door. which was strange, because he had expected the usual blaring music, and the smell of alcohol, and maybe mingi passed out on the couch. instead, and the smell of weed was replaced by a lemon floor cleaner. everything was spotless, even the shoes were lined up by the door. 

the first person he saw was jongho. the youngest was in the kitchen, his muscles straining against a tight gym shirt as he shook his protein bottle.

"hey, hyung," jongho said, his voice neutral. he didn't look guilty, because he hadn't been part of the betting pool, but he looked exhausted by the tension. "good to see you're alive."

san didn't smile. "where are the others?"

"hongjoong-hyung and seonghwa-hyung are cleaning the backyard. wooyoung-hyung... he’s in his room, hasn't come out since he did his chores couple of hours ago," the youngest replied, taking a sip of his shake. "as for the others, i don’t know. they’re laying low. "

"then tell them to get in the living room."

one by one, the boys filtered in. hongjoong and seonghwa looked disheveled, their clothes damp from the cleaning. yeosang was zoning out, mingi and yunho hovered near the back, looking like kicked puppies, jongho was the only one who looked at him in the eye without flinching. the only one missing was woyooung.

san stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed ovee his chest. he didn't yell. he didn't throw a punch. he just looked at them with a cold, piercing disappointment that was far more terrifying than anger.

"i’ve known and trusted you guys for years," san began, his voice low and dangerous. "i didn't think i had to explain to my best friends what the words stop and no meant. or that my girlfriend wasn't some trophy or prize to snatch. i thought i knew who you were, but the second i turned my back, you turned a girl i care about into some twisted game, and for a more than a hundred bucks… that’s what her dignity was worth to you?"

"san, we–" mingi started, but san’s gaze snapped to him, silencing him instantly.

"no. i’m talking. you don't get to defend it. you put money on her body and used the trust i built with her to try to get a score."

he cut him off because they failed him. not as brothers, but as men.

"you all sat in a circle and talked about her like she was some property." you planned how to corner her. if i ever, and i mean ever, hear any of you mention something sickening or breathe in her direction without my permission, you're losing a tooth… i was going to move out today. the only reason i’m not is that i want to see if any of you are actually worth keeping as friends.” that resulted in shocked faces with widened eyes, “do i make myself clear?"

the room went radio silent. unusually, apologies came in stammers: sincere from some, awkward from others. but he didn't stay to listen to the justifications, as he turned his back on them and walked upstairs.

later as it became evening with the sun setting down, san was in his bedroom, the blue light of his computer screen reflecting in his eyes as he tried to lose himself in a game. the tension in his shoulders was still there, because he didn't forgive them, not yet. egos were bruised, both theirs and his, trust was lost, but that’s just how the frat world work, or rather the men’s world.

knock, knock. knock, knock. the rhythm was unmistakable, because it was a code. san didn't look away from the screen as the door creaked open. wooyoung slipped inside, his movements cat-like, checking before doing anything. he didn't say anything at first, just walked over and sat on the edge of san's bed. a cola-flavored lollipop was tucked into the corner of his mouth.

"whatcha doin'?" wooyoung cleared his throat, the candy clicking against his teeth. 

san ignored him, his fingers clicking rapidly on the mouse.

"you still mad?" wooyoung tried again. "is it free-to-play? the game, i mean."

the good boy countied to ignore him by tapping on the keyboard.

"sannie? come on. talk to me." 

"i'm busy, wooyoung." 

"look, sannie," the blond sighed, his shoulders dropping. he reached up and pulled the lollipop from his mouth with a soft pop. "i’m sorry. i really am. i didn't mean to cross a line like that. i thought we were all just having fun, ‘ya know? i thought you’d be into the competition too. it was just a frat thing, we have done this before… well we, not you."

san paused the game. the silence in the room became absolute as he spun his gaming chair around to face his best friend. "she isn't a frat thing, woo. she’s my girlfriend. so if you ever touch her again like you did in that hallway, i don't care how long we’ve known each other. i’ll not tolerate shit like this."

"girlfriend, huh? moving fast, but okay. i get it, you are putting boundaries."

“she’s the person i love. do you get that?”

wooyoung stared at him, blinking from time to time, processing the information. "yeah, i get it. i’m sorry, man. won't happen again, i promise. she's all yours… so, we're good?"

san looked at him, searching for the lie, but wooyoung looked sincere enough. "we are… for now."

they talked for a few more minutes, a tentative peace offering made between two people who had been inseparable since high school. wooyoung stood up, popping the candy back into his mouth. "glad we’re cool. i’m gonna check on yeosang now. see ya at dinner."

"yeah. see you."

the frat walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. as soon as the wood clicked into the frame, the apologising mask fell. wooyoung stood in the hallway, biting down hard on the lollipop, the artificial cola flavor bursting across his tongue as the candy shattered into tiny shards. 

his eyes darkened, fixed on nothing. he could still feel the phantom presence of your body against the wall, the way you had tasted of sweet apple and surrender. he had told san what he wanted to hear, but his heart was doing something entirely different.

he wasn't sorry, not at all. he told san he was feeling awful, that he was just doing his usual thing, and he promised his best friend that he’d back off. but as he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked back at the closed bedroom door, he knew he was a liar. the bet was over, sure. san had the title and the official status. but wooyoung had the memory of how easily you melted for a bad influence, and if he had to play the long game, to be supportive… he’d wait for the cracks or any opening if lady luck was on his side.

pulling out his phone, scrolling to a photo he’d snapped of you earlier that night when you didn't know he was looking. 

"tsk, official my ass," wooyoung whispered to the empty hall, his thumb tracing the screen over your face. "we'll see how long that lasts, doll."

uneven thudding in his chest, a rhythm he hated, a weakness he hadn't planned for. it was a glitch in his system that occurred every time he closed his eyes and saw your pretty face.

san was the paradigm, the golden standard of a man who believed that love was a framework of protection and official labels. he lived by a set of rules that made him feel safe, as if the world was a map he could finally navigate on his own. 

you were the enigma, the puzzle that didn't fit into the frat’s predatory architecture. a riddle wooyoung couldn't solve, and the paradox of your surrender in that hallway was driving him to the brink of insanity.

the house was filled with stigmas. the collective disapproval of a society that saw them as nothing but high-status predators, and wooyoung had always worn that reputation like a badge of honor.

he turned and walked away, this time as a man who was no longer playing for money, but for keeps. his thumb grazed his lower lip, still tasting the ghost of your sweetness, and his eyes were full with a hunger that would make san’s heart stop. his best friend could keep the title, wooyoung was going to take the girl… after all, he had never been a good loser.

reblog with tags, comment and show love to this fic, or i will unalive you in your sleep <33

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

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[last-words-ofashootingstar]

❛if you're too shy,

let me know❜

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. DEAD DOVE, 227 NON-CON. delusional stalker seonghwa x fem reader, dacryphilia, drugging via paralytics, spit, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, tongue-fucking, forced orgasm, unprotected p->v, creampie despite readers begging, 205 ddlg themes, use of "daddy", pet names (baby, angel, good/little girl, sweetheart)

-> two requests in one ! "noncon with seonghwa" and "227 + 205 with seonghwa". enjoy it ya nasties <33

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

If you're too shy, let me know.

Is what Seonghwa had written in your comment section after months of gathering the courage to interact with you.

Much to his surprise, he found a hidden message in your next post.

A peek of your pastel panties showing in your seemingly innocent pose, showing because your skirt has been blown slightly by the wind.

Surely. It has to be. It's your way of responding to him.

You hadn't ignored him.

You really are just that shy, he knows it for certain now. You haven't interacted with him because you're shy, that's it. You must just need to be guided.

Which is exactly why he's broken into your apartment, a syringe held tightly by his side as he stands by the side of your bed; watching you sleep.

You feel the charge in the air through your sleeping state, stirring under the blankets restlessly for a moment before your body urges you to peek your eyes open.

The shadow that looms eerily on the wall makes your heart drop into your uneasy gut.

You turn quickly to face the source, lifting yourself onto your elbows and staring with wide eyes at the man. Your body doesn't know what to do. You don't know what to do as the man leans and cups your cheek, pressing his lips to yours briefly before whispering against them, "you weren't supposed to wake up yet. I'm sorry, baby."

You yelp as a quick pin-prick stings your neck, hand flying up to it before he grabs it with his free hand and laces your fingers together; holding it down to your lap despite your struggle against him.

"Shhh," he coos as he quickly presses the plunger of the syringe. A burning sensation spreads through the area, making you whimper through your quivering lips. Tears are quickly forming a pool against your waterline, blurring his semi-familiar face.

"No-" You groan out weakly as he pushes you to guide you to your back, kicking at him with all your might as he climbs over you. You land a few good connections to his thighs, but it doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

By the time he's straddling you, whatever drugs he'd injected into you are taking effect — and you find it increasingly difficult to move your limbs. They feel heavy, like the world's heaviest weighted blanket has been draped over them.

"Please, no," you can manage to move your mouth just enough to whisper, and your eyes are able to flick from his face to his hands beggingly as he peels the blanket away from you.

"It's okay, angel," he hums at the sight of your pajamas, something so simple making his cock stir to life. "I know you want this. You've been sending me all these hints, like we're playing a game." He huffs a chuckle, pushing your top up to expose your chest. "I really wanted to wait for you to come to me first, but now I know you're just too shy to."

Your head moves heavily as you attempt to shake it, tears now streaming down your temples. "Don't worry, Daddy will take good care of you."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he leans over to kiss you again, willing your head to move away but only getting caught in his palm as he cradles your cheek and holds you in place.

He moves his lips against yours for a good few long moments before he kisses his way down your jaw and toward your neck.

You can feel everything. But you can do nothing. Not even as his hand sneaks down your pajama pants and cups your most intimate parts.

"Stop." Your voice cracks under the weight of the drugs that settles over your entire body now.

"Why would I do that, sweetheart? We're finally together, let's make the most of it, yeah?"

"I don't want t-"

"I'll make it feel good for you, don't worry your pretty little head about it... I'll stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck you." To him it's a sweet promise. To you? A threat.

"Please- please don't." You keep your eyes shut tight as he starts circling your clit over the fabric of your panties.

"I know, I know," he coos again, "my little girl is just so shy. It's okay. Let Daddy do all the work. You just relax, baby."

Is he serious? Is all you can think as he slides your pants and panties down in one smooth tug, abandoning them at the foot of the bed before he spreads your heavy legs wide.

He stares down at your bare heat for a long beat, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Laying down on his stomach to be face to face with your core, he spits right on it.

You almost want to gag as the warm spit dribbles down your slit, and you can only whine as you put all of your energy into trying to close your legs.

It's all for nothing, because his tongue comes out and slides its way up your slit slowly. "Fuck, baby," he moans, giving a kiss to your clit before he continues, "this is what you've been hiding from me? So amazing..."

You cry out weakly as he starts eating you out like a man starved, sucking and licking every inch of you that he can reach.

His tongue slips its way into your growing wetness, curling and swirling every which way it can.

You're still crying, though your tears have slowed — not because of the unwelcome pleasure, you assure yourself.

When his tongue slowly pulls away, you let out a breath of relief. The feeling of him licking at you is bad enough, and the feeling of any part of him inside of you makes your gut clench.

The relief is short lived, however, because two fingers push their way into you and make you squeal as he quickly starts curling them right up against that special spot inside of you all the while his tongue rolls against your clit.

"That's it baby," he pants softly against you, "you're going to cum for Daddy. Be a good girl, now."

It's too fast building, it's too intense. All too much as he abuses both of your most sensitive spots — inside and out.

You let out a wobbling scream as your orgasm breaks over you in violent waves, your legs twitching with your cunt as you cum around his fingers.

He watches the way your face contorts like a hawk, eyes trained up your body as he continues to flick his tongue on your sensitive nub.

He only stops when sobs start to wrack your chest, a satisfied grin on his slick lips as he removes his fingers.

"Didn't that feel good, angel? Hm?" He licks his fingers clean while awaiting your answer, but one never comes; only your sniffles and soft cries. "Hey," he turns stern, gripping your face in his hand and smooshing your cheeks together, "answer me."

"Y-yes." You tell him what he wants to hear, and you don't lie despite everything. It did feel good. But you didn't want it, and you think maybe you'd prefer if it actually didn't please you at all.

"Yes," he hums, pleased, "I knew you would come around, sweetheart."

The sound of his zipper fills you with dread, and you don't have time to think about it — because he's immediately rubbing his hard member against the mess he'd made of you.

"Wait- fuck!" It's a real, proper scream despite the drugs holding your body captive. Because he'd just plunged his thick, overwhelming inches into you in one smooth thrust.

"Oh, shit, baby," he moans deeply, bending to nuzzle his head against your neck, "you're so fucking tight. So warm..."

"Don't move, please," you stutter, "too big-"

"Awe," he coos well and proper, "is Daddy too big for his little girl?" He presses his forehead to yours as you force a weak nod. "Don't be scared of it," he presses his lips to yours briefly, "I'll be gentle."

Gentle he is, at least for the first few slow, rolling thrusts.

But then your cunt clenches around him and he's suddenly pummeling into you. Rough, hard, and fast. So much so that you can hardly breathe.

"I'm sorry sweet girl," he groans, hands going to hold your waist tightly, "I need to cum- gonna cum inside you."

"No-" You gasp, "no, no! Not on birth control, please-"

"Keep begging, baby," he urges with lust coating his voice, his breath heavy against your face.

"D-Daddy, please-" Your idea backfires immediately. Calling him Daddy to get to his soft side doesn't work. Instead, he's buried balls deep inside of you the second you utter the name, pumping his warm seed straight into your guts.

He nearly falls ontop of you, making it even harder to catch your breath as you cry.

"Shhh, baby, shhh."

His cooing works in tandem with your exhaustion and the drugs, luring you to a deep sleep.

.

.

.

.

.

join the taglist here !

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[wooyosdots]

i need this man so bad y’all don’t understand

© zooololz on twt

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

❛ psycho killer,

qu'est-ce que c'est?❜

MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: CONTAINS BLOOD AND NON-CON/DUB-CON. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME. not proof read, stalker yeosang x fem reader, murder of readers one-night-stand done off screen but we see the body, bloody knife held to reader, blood consumption, hair pulling both ways, slapping + lip biting so hard it draws blood (sang receiving), unprotected p->v, slut shaming, reader called: slut, stupid, bitch, sick in the head. with all of that said, reader is into it. that doesn't make it any better, it doesn't make it healthy or sane. this is purely fiction and should never be interpreted as okay in real life- because it's not even okay here. but that doesn't mean we can't explore dark and dangerous topics and fantasies through fiction.

♫soundtrack♫

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. DEAD DOVE.

HATE WILL BE BLOCKED.

Blood doesn't make you queasy. Never has.

But, then again, you've never been in a situation where it really, really should.

One where it was splattered up the walls of your fling's apartment and pooling on his floor next to his unmoving body. One where it's staining the face of the man above him — the man looking right at you with a knife gripped in his gloved hand so tightly that it shakes.

But you're not queasy even still, as the man stands slowly from straddling the now dead body; eyes locked on you. Bloodshot like he'd been crying and his pupils wide with the adrenaline that shakes the blade in his clenched fist.

You recognize him, of course.

"Yeosang, right?"

He pauses, only a step closer to you.

He's been stalking you for months. Following you around like a creep. Breaking into your room. Stealing things. Taking pictures when he thinks you aren't aware.

"You should be more careful." Your voice only carries a small tremble, "it wasn't that hard to find you online."

The corner of his lips twitches up, "how did you do that?" He asks with another step towards you.

You stand your ground. Like an idiot. "You were in the background of a selfie I took a few weeks a-"

The words are choked out of you, replaced by a strangled gasp of air as his free hand pins you to the wall; tight around your throat.

"You stupid slut."

If he wasn't already half-hard from the rush of adrenaline, the familiar feeling of taking a life, he certainly is now; with that star-struck, dumbfounded look in your eyes. You don't even have the wits about you to fight him as he shoves a knee between your thighs, pressing up against your clothed heat.

Your wide eyes stare into his as he squints, trying to worm his way into your mind through eye contact alone. Your gaze slowly drifts to the body across the room — and his hand tightens around your neck.

It's then that your body decides to give a bit of fight, even though you still find yourself unnaturally calm in the face of your stalker. Your hands come up, nails digging into his wrist, gasping for air. He uses his grip to knock your head into the wall — a ringing in your ears despite the gut feeling that he was actually going easy on you.

His hand drifts to the collar of your shirt, fisting it up tightly, jaw locked tight.

"I di-" You stutter, pupils shaky as they come back to him, "I didn't think you'd kill him..."

He takes a moment, watching you. "I knew it." He chuckles, dragging the bloody knife across your exposed thigh. "I knew you were sick in the head... You did this to get my attention."

Instead of a firm answer, you just repeat yourself. "I didn't think you'd... kill him."

"Why would I let him live after he fucked my girl? Hm?" The tilt of his head feels menacing, so why do you feel yourself growing wet?

"No answer?" He hums again, "that's okay, keep your mouth shut actually. It's my turn to fuck you and if you scream too loud, someone might come knocking before we get to finish."

"What-"

He yanks you from the wall by your shirt, making you stumble. The tip of the knife presses into your back; just enough to feel it.

"Move. To the bed, now."

Your body must know what it's doing. Because you certainly don't as you start following his instructions smoothly, one foot infront of the other.

You swallow past the lump in your throat and open up your bedroom door, asking quietly, "are you going to kill me?"

"Kill you? Come on, now. You aren't that stupid."

"Then what d-"

"Show me how that bastard fucked you." He cuts you off with a shove towards the bed, "go on. Take your clothes off like the slut you are. Let me see."

You ask your body why it's listening to him so fluidly, without any hesitation. And it just responds by making you slide your pajama shorts and panties down your legs.

The blood on the knife makes your gut clench. "Don't hurt me."

"Not unless you try to run away."

It's probably not very much good to ask your stalker who holds a bloody knife, "promise?"

He probably doesn't mean it when he says, "sure. Promise."

Peeling your shirt away, it's only now — naked and defenseless — that your heart starts a new rhythm. Quicker by a beat and warm in your chest, blossoming up your neck and face as he stares unabashedly while you lower yourself onto the bed.

"Is that how he fucked you?"

You take a moment of pause to reflect on what the fuck is happening, but your body doesn't. Why doesn't it? Why are you not on the same page? Why is it spreading its legs wide and exposing your cunt?

"This." You say, quiet.

"I'll make sure to do it better. You won't remember anything other than my cock when we're done here. And if you do," he grins while dropping the knife of the bedside table before pulling his hoodie and shirt off in one go, "then we aren't done."

Your heart is thudding faster and faster as he sheds the rest of his clothes and climbs ontop of you. "Wait-"

"No," he says simply, guiding his hard length toward your wet hole. "I've waited long enough."

And while you're a good bit wet, and you had sex just hours before, it's no where near adequate preparation for Yeosang. Your stalker is well endowed to say the least.

Just the tip of it pushing inside of you makes you whine, face scrunching up and hands instinctively going to press flat on his lower stomach and slow him down.

"C'mon now," he says, shockingly soft, "be a big girl and take it. I know your slutty little hole wants it, right?"

You can't answer, biting your tongue to distract yourself from the pain as he forces himself in at a snails pace.

"Right?" He shoves in a few agonizing inches in at once, making you yelp; legs trying to close around him and only succeeding in wrapping around him, legs tangled together as you fidget.

"Please- hurts-"

"Awe," it's mock sympathy and you know it, but it still makes you feel your heart beat in your stretched cunt as he coos, "you'll be okay~"

A small mercy, really, as he reaches between you and slowly finds your clit, circling it with a steady rhythm as he bottoms out in another quick thrust that knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you screaming silently for a moment.

Your hands find their way up to his hair, holding onto the roots tightly. Eyes clenched shut, you can't see the ecstatic look in his dark gaze as he says, "play nice and I'll be gentle."

Whatever words that you were going to utter fall flat against your tongue as his lips press onto yours.

It feels gentle, almost. Affectionate. Like the core of his obsession is leaking through to give you a taste.

Your mouth opens up as his tongue grazes against it and the core is heating up, the obsession burning from the inside out; the kiss growing rougher and deeper as he cups your jaw in his hands and moves against you.

"Stupid slut," he moans breathlessly into you, "thought you'd get away with letting someone else fuck you-"

It's his turn to be cut off, your teeth trapping his lower lip and making him hiss; his fingers tightening around your jaw until you open your mouth. The metallic liquid coats your taste buds, your breathing heavy as he pulls away and glares down at you. "Don't call me that- ah!"

His hand is back around your throat, your moans and yelps coming out garbled as he thrusts harder, faster. "What did I say, hm? Play. Nice." He emphasizes his words with particularly targeted thrusts, "that's all you had to do."

.

.

.

.

.

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy @everyonewooeverywhere @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @klllerwaifu @atinybtiny @yoonglesbae @wolviejex @estrnrea @lover-ofallthingspretty @willowwyy @jaerisdiction @peelingpaint-heavyheart @satsuri3su @bubbly-moon @hannahstacos @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @prchiquita8 @carrot-ish @ramadiiiisme @birdy-bat-writes @0323yuyu1024 @jkayy-prodian @hyunj00 @xzoria @lady-haitani @ottersdeservelove @sugar-spice-bitch @itsskierr @starryunho @yukisroom97 @raicecakes-and-buldak @mallielovssyou @wolywolymoley @ayoo-bangtan @tunafishyfishylike @beomelmyu @cypher-03 @belongjoong @faeriful @violatedvibrators @stxrrywoo @a1avav

[kisssan]

you know that reblogging + commenting + interacting with authors and their work won't hurt you, right? just saying, but you do what you do, don't expect motivation and new stuff to come out, if you don't engage in the process of supporting those who take their time and energy to give you content.

[kisssan]

thinking about ... mingi and how easily he breaks under your touch .ᐟ

the shift from "big bad wolf" to "needy adorable chick" happens the exact moment your fingers meet the nape of his neck.

MINGI is massive as he occupies the whole bed, his broad and muscular chest heavy against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. between his size and that naturally intimidating aura he carries in public, anyone else would think he’s the one in control.

but right now, he’s just your oversized, drowsy boy, melting into the mattress with his lower half settled snugly between your thighs.

"mmh… baby, keep doing that," he rumbles, the deep vibration of his voice buzzing directly against your collarbone.

you smile, dragging your nails down the broad expanse of his back. it doesn't matter if you just got a fresh nail set or if they’re long or short, almond or square shape — your boyfriend is utterly obsessed with the way you touch him. your fingertips trace the dip of his spine, the sharp nails catching just enough to leave light red tracks across his warm skin. you keep the pace slow, steady, and mesmerizing, fully intending to put the big guy straight to sleep. but then, the rhythm of his breathing changes.

instead of softening into slumber, mingi lets out a ragged hitch of a breath. his hips give a sudden twitch, pressing his heavy and semi-hard erection right against your lower stomach.

"mingi," you tease softly, dragging your nails just a little deeper, tracing a circle near his lower back. "i thought you were tired."

"i was," he whines, and god, the contrast of that deep voice making such a pathetic, high-pitched sound is enough to make your own pussy ache. lifting his head, eyes tired but full of hunger and neediness. "your hands... they just feel too good. please…"

he doesn't wait, because the impatient side of him takes over. mingi reaches down, blindly fumbling with his sweatpants and shoving them past his hips, freeing himself. he’s too desperate, but pins your wrists above your head for a second, kissing you messily, before he shudders and slides one hand back down to grip your thighs and pull down your shorts. positioning himself, the already leaking tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

"ah, fuck, wait– " mingi gasps, his entire body locking up. you choose that exact moment to break one hand free from his loose grip, reaching up to bury your nails firmly into the meat of his shoulder, dragging them down his back like a cat scratching on a wooden door.

the stimulation is an instant overload. mingi lets out a breathy whimper, his back arching slightly, and before he can even push himself inside you, his body betrays him. a thick rope of semen shoots out, painting your lower abdomen and the space between you in hot and messy spurts.

he collapses instantly, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder as he pants, completely spent and trembling from head to toe.

"oh," you blink, feeling the mess he just made, then up at his burning and completely flushed face. "well, that was fast."

"s-shut up," mingi groans, hiding his face in your neck out of pure embarrassment, though his hips still twitch weakly against yours. "it’s your fault... you shouldn't have scratched me like that."

you just chuckle, wrapping your arms back around his massive frame and dragging your cat-like claws gently over his lower back again. he lets out another tiny, defeated whine, completely at your mercy.

"come on, big boy," you tease, a low laugh vibrating in your chest as you nudge his hip. "you're not giving up on me already, are you? you didn't even last a minute."

mingi groans, his entire face burning red against your neck. he tries to hide, whining at the playful mockery, but you aren't done. sliding your hand up his back, your fingers curling as you dig firmly into the thick muscle of his shoulder. it’s a silent demand, pressing him right against where you need him the most.

"you can't just leave me like this, mingi. look at the mess you made." you drag your nails downward, making him shiver. "let's give it a retry before i tell the boys how you won't participate in no nut november, again.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOU <3 i wish you all the best, i love you so much and i hope you will have the greatest birthday ever !! @way2jellyous never stop being an icon twinski *explodes into confetti*

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

taglist ( open )﹢ @strhwa @lillys-bakery @les4heeseung @yeehaw-odyssey @livonianmaia @estrnrea @chanscappuccino @lateez @cyberpxnks @zerowantstobattle @raicecakes-and-buldak @finewinesixtynine @jensdior  @hwavon @hwa2tiny @woosansbb @haleria @lol-imtrash2000 @haohaoshoe @iamagnesrrr @phesodain @chuuyaobsessed @niyareloadedd @enhacolor @atetheluck @eviemae5864 @booposaurusrex @belongjoong @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @urfavleobiscuit @way2jellyous @cultofsin @hearts4itoshi @matznana @eggielix @sangibaby @dovelydrz @tinyfixon @zayn-210 @seungminimpossible @pilmographyy @pinkyerkz @straytiny127 @ophelie-dctl @minkisdoll @sassysiren1031 @powerpuff-girls4l @minyunsan-kitten @frayaatiny @atzjoonghwa

[stxrrywoo]

THE HEIST ── k.ys & j.wy ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ (chap. one)

╰┈➤ PART ONE ; THE HOSTAGE SITUATION

synopsis ; what started as a normal day quickly turned into a life or death situation when you and your best friend are caught in a hostage situation during a bank heist. however, when you're taken with the men you find out that there is a lot more that awaits for you behind the walls of their hideout and you slowly find yourself not wanting to leave... especially not when wooyoung and yeosang treat you so kindly.

pairing(s) ; yeosang x f!reader x wooyoung

☆ ── wc. ; 12.7k ☆ ── genre ; DARK THEMES!!!, angst, smut, dark romance, love triangle, slow burn(ish), fluff if you squint real fucking hard, psychological thriller/horror ☆ ── gen. tw. ; SOME TAGS ARE HIDDEN AS TO NOT SPOIL THE STORY, READERS DISCRETION ADVISED!!!, cussing, violence, mentions/use of weapons (guns, knives, etc...), use of force, life or death situations, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, captive reader, ateez are all criminals, mentions and depictions of abuse (mental, emotional and physical), phobias (claustrophobia...), mind breakage, ptsd, useage of petnames (including but not limited to: doll, peach/peaches, babydoll, sweetheart, little bird, baby, darlin, sweets...), severe manipulation, derogatory names (bitch...), hongjoong is a bit psychotic, psychological torture, conditioning, threats, hair pulling (in both a sexual and nonsexual light), toxic relationships and behavior, guilt tripping, gaslighting, find nsfw tags below the cut!!

⏤͟͟͞͞ PREVIOUS ── MASTERLIST ── NEXT

☆ ── nsfw tw. ; no other tags to add besides gen. tags!! ☆ ── notes ; well folks... here it is :3 the long-awaited series that I've been teasing at for months hehe. this was supposed to come out yesterday for my birthday, but I got distracted and lazy, so my apologies. but I hope y'all enjoy this helluva ride and let me know what you think so far!! also taglist will remain open until the 30th!!

⏤͟͟͞͞ JOIN THE TAGLIST ── MASTERLIST NAVI ── MAIN NAVI

It was just a normal Friday: you had already finished all your classes for the day and were now sitting in your favorite cafe with your best friend. You listened to her ramble on about something or the other while you sipped on your iced coffee, hoping the caffeine would keep you awake for a little while longer. The sunlight started to peek out from behind the rainclouds, shining through the window and right on to your body, warming you. It was early spring, which brought a lot of rain with it, so you and Bohwa decided to take shelter in the cafe, waiting for it to pass.

Looking outside, you noticed that there were still some stray raindrops falling from tree leaves and awnings. Puddles splashed as cars and bikers drove through them. It was turning out to be a beautiful day, and you were sure it was bound to warm up as well. It reminded you of the day you met Bohwa. She had been in such a rush that she didn't see you and accidentally knocked you down—right into a puddle. She had apologized profusely and offered to buy you a new outfit and a coffee, since she had knocked your coffee down as well.

"Hello? Earth to y/n." Bohwa waved her hand in front of your face, breaking you out of your daze, and you turned your head to look over at her. The dual-haired girl was giving you a playful glare, bringing her straw up to her lips to take a sip, "Are you okay? You've been zoning out all day."

"Hmm, oh yeah, sorry. I don't think I slept very well last night." You told her with a sheepish smile, bringing your own straw up to your lips, taking another sip. Feeling a soft breeze wash over you pulled your attention back to the world outside the window, "It's so nice outside now that it's not raining."

Following your gaze out the window, Bohwa hummed softly, grabbing her phone to check the time. Seeing that it was only a little bit after three in the afternoon, she figured you'd both have enough time to do something before things started to close.

"Why don't we go shopping?" Bohwa suggested, turning her phone off and setting it back down.

You looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, "With what money? I thought you used most of your paycheck for the tuition payment."

"Hey, who said we had to buy anything?" She told you, wiggling her eyebrows, and your face started to contort into deep concern, looking at the girl across from you like she had three heads. Noticing your gaze, Bohwa burst out laughing, catching the attention of a few others in the cafe. She reached over, grabbing your wrist, "I meant window shopping, jeez, we're not going to rob anybody."

"God Bohwa, be more specific next time! I thought you were being for real." You scolded her, and she giggled before pulling her hand back, standing up, and grabbing her bag.

"My bad, my bad," She reached down and grabbed her coffee cup, "c'mon, I know a few places we can go and look." She urged you, and you rolled your eyes playfully, a smile tugging on your lips as you stood from your own seat.

As the two of you walked down the sidewalk, Bohwa linked her arm with yours, once again ranting about something from one of her classes. She pulled you into a few clothing stores, picking up a few things, making a mental note to come back when she had the extra funds to get some. You were stuck next to her, looking at the different options they had before Bohwa pulled you to the next shop.

After a few hours, you saw a little trinket store on the corner of the street, and something about it was pulling you in. You looked over at Bohwa only to see her looking around frantically, causing you to think that something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" You asked, gently reaching out to grab her arm, causing her to look over at you with an awkward smile.

"Yeah, I just really have to go pee." She told you as she looked over your shoulder at a restaurant, "I'm gonna go over there and use the bathroom. Where did you wanna meet?"

"Oh, I was gonna check out that trinket store over there," you told her, pointing to the shop you had seen moments ago. "You can just come find me over there when you're done."

"Okay," Bohwa nodded before leaving you on the sidewalk while she booked it towards the restaurant, apologizing to a few people here and there when she bumped into them.

You laughed softly before making your way towards the trinket store, maneuvering around the crowd of people who were outside. Just as you were about to reach the door, you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. Looking over, you saw a large figure moving towards you, and you barely had a second to react and move before they ran right into you. However, they still clipped your shoulder, causing you to stumble back, a small curse falling from your lips as you tried to steady yourself.

"Hey, watch where…" You got ready to tell the person off, but all you saw was their fading figure, well out of reach to hear anything you had to say. Letting out a sigh, you just shook your head, but as your gaze flickered down, you noticed something lying on the ground that you were sure wasn't there a few moments ago.

Crouching down, you picked up what you could only guess was some kind of necklace. It was an intricate silver piece of jewelry that looked like it had been bent to take the shape of a bird of some sort. Turning it around, you found a glittering red gem sitting in the middle. It was beautiful to say the least, and you wondered if that person had dropped it when they bumped into you. You debated on whether or not to keep it, not sure if you'd ever see that person again, seeing as they were wearing a mask.

Suddenly, there was a hand placed on your shoulder, and your whole body jolted. Your head whipped around, only to find Bohwa standing there. You let out a visible sigh, relief flooding your veins as you stood up.

"Are you okay?" She asked as you pocketed the necklace and you hummed, heart still hammering against your ribs.

"Yeah, some asshole just ran into me." You told her, and her eyes went wide, her hand grabbing your arm as she looked you over.

"Oh, my god? Are you okay?" She asked, obviously worried, and you nodded your head, grabbing your bicep as you finally started to feel some pain in your shoulder.

"Bohwa, I'm fine, maybe just a bruised and sore shoulder, but I'm okay otherwise." You reassured her, and she let out a sigh, letting her arms drop back down to her side.

"They seriously just ran off after bumping into you?" She asked, looking over your shoulder, searching for some unknown person that was no longer there, "Did they at least apologize?"

"What do you think?" You asked her with a deadpan expression, and she met your eyes with a small glare.

"Asshole," she grumbled before looping her arm through yours and turning back towards the shop front. "C'mon, we have enough time to look around, but I have to stop by the bank before we head back to the dorms."

You looked over at her and nodded before walking into the store. You guys didn't stay inside for too long, seeing as nothing was catching your eye, and you had to catch a cab to the bank. Once you got there, you followed Bohwa inside and walked up to join the long line.

"Seems like everyone needed to stop at the bank before close," Bohwa sighed, knowing the two of you would be waiting for a little bit. You laughed softly, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, but just as you expected, the only notifications you had were from random apps on your phone.

Looking around, you noticed that there were only two bank tellers and about twenty customers, including yourself and Bohwa. Then you noticed a bathroom tucked in the far wall and pocketed your phone. You patted Bohwa's arm before pointing towards the restroom.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to the bathroom." You told her, and she nodded with a hum. Then you slipped past her, walking towards the bathroom, humming some tune that was stuck in your head.

Walking in, you noticed that no one else was inside, so with a small triumphant smile, you walked into a stall, latching the door behind you. You quickly did your business, then fixed your jeans, stepped out of the stall, and went up to the bathroom sink. As you washed your hands, you looked up at yourself, a small huff leaving your lips as you noticed that a few strands of hair were blown out of place, but other than that, you looked alright.

Once you finished washing your hands, you walked over to the paper towel dispenser and pulled out a few. Drying your hands, you looked back at the mirror and caught sight of the lights reflecting off something in your coat pocket. Tossing the paper towels into the trash bin, you walked back over to the mirror, fixing your hair before reaching into your pocket. Pulling out the thin chain necklace, you held the charm in your hand, mind wandering back to the person who had bumped into you.

"I wonder if I'll ever run into them again…" You murmured to yourself, moving the charm so the light reflected off the ruby stone in the center. Letting out a huff, you shook your head, "Hopefully not literally though."

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang that sounded strangely like a gunshot. A sharp gasp fell from your lips, and you dropped to the ground, shoving the piece of jewelry back into your coat pocket. Your eyes widened as your gaze flicked to the bathroom door; the sound of distant shouting came from outside.

"Everyone on the ground now!" You heard a man shout, followed by a few screams, and your heart started to race in your chest.

"You, where are the keys to the safe?" You heard another man shout, and you came to a terrifying realization that the bank was being robbed.

Fear clawed its way up your spine, and tears stung in your eyes. Hide. That's what you needed to do: hide. Holding your breath, you carefully made your way towards the bathroom stalls, hands shaking.

Then another gunshot was heard, followed by a series of screams, and your heart lurched into your throat. Your blood ran cold as you remembered that Bohwa was still outside. With the robbers.

Your fear was then mixed in with worry, and you slowly turned, facing the bathroom door once more. Bohwa was still stuck out there, and you couldn't leave her alone. Then you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and your body jolted. Tears blurred your vision as you pulled out the device, seeing it was a message from your roommate asking when you would be back. Quickly, a plan formed in your mind, and you unlocked your phone and opened your keypad, typing in the emergency number.

Quietly shuffling towards the door, you pressed your ear against the thick wood, hoping to tell if any of them were nearby. All you heard were muffled voices, some speaking low enough that you couldn't make out what they were saying. Then there were a few shouting orders.

Swallowing thickly, you reached up, cracking the door open just an inch to peek out. The first thing you saw was all the people on the floor gathered together, Bohwa on one end, a little boy latched to her side. Then your breath caught in your throat when you saw a man lying face down on the ground, a pool of blood forming underneath him. You quickly covered your mouth with the back of your hand, holding your phone, tears escaping your eyes and flowing freely down your pale cheeks.

Finally, you looked over at the group of men who were standing around the lobby, each of them holding a large gun. They were dressed head-to-toe in black, even their faces were covered by a mask, and they wore plain black baseball caps. From the angle you were looking at, you could only count four, but you were sure that there were more.

Biting your lip to hold back a sob, you looked down at your phone and hit the call button for emergency services. You brought the device to your ear, and almost instantly, someone picked up the phone, asking what the emergency was.

"Hello, I'm at the Main Central Bank, and it's being robbed right now." You whispered, voice shaky as you tried to keep your volume down.

"Okay, ma'am, can you tell me how many there are?" The man on the other end of the phone asked, and you opened the door just a bit more, flinching when it made a small creaking sound. You waited with bated breath to see if any of the men would notice, but when none did, you closed your eyes, sighing shakily. Sticking your head out just a bit, you noticed that there were two more men standing at the teller counter, holding the poor woman at gunpoint as she searched for something.

"T-There's six that I c-can see." You told him, then your eyes traveled over to Bohwa, seeing her shaking and probably crying. A lump formed in your throat when she looked over at you, her eyes growing wide.

"Alright, and can you tell me how many people are inside with you?" The man asked, his voice startling you, and you almost slipped. However, your heart nearly stopped when Bohwa started to move, her eyes trained on you. You quickly moved your hand to your mouth, motioning for her to be quiet, eyes wide.

"Ma'am?" The man spoke again, but it sounded like it was coming from the other end of the tunnel as one of the men noticed Bohwa's movement and looked at her before he glanced over at you.

"S-Shit." You gasped, scurrying back into the bathroom, letting the door shut, and quickly moving towards a bathroom stall. You latched the lock on the bathroom stall, squeezing your body into the space between the toilet and wall, shaky hand moving up to cover your mouth, muffling your cries.

The operator continued to try to speak to you, but you couldn't comprehend a word he was saying over the sound of the bathroom door creaking open. Heavy footsteps echoed inside the small room, your breath catching when they neared the stall you were in. A loud bang bounced off the walls as the man hit one of the stall doors, causing you to jump, tears streaming down your face.

You tucked your body into the small space, hoping he wouldn't be able to see you in the far corner. Then he finally got to your stall, his feet coming to a stop right outside the door. Your trembling, rapid breathing was the only sound heard in the still silence, and you squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that he'd come in here sooner or later.

"Come on out, sweetheart. I know you're hiding in here." His deep voice filled the air, followed by a chuckle that echoed in your ears.

"Ma'am, are you safe?" The operator asked, but you couldn't bring yourself to move or speak, for that matter. Frozen in place with fear, heart racing so fast you were starting to become lightheaded.

"I'll give you another chance, come out. Now." The man demanded, and your breath hitched at the sound of a gun cocking. Your mind raced with the possibilities that could happen, and more quietly, a muffled sob escaped your covered lips.

You couldn't move, even if you wanted to; your body seemed to be completely glued to that spot, refusing to move an inch. Tears continued to stream down your face, dripping from your chin into your lap, staining your jeans.

A scream erupted from your lips when the door was kicked open, your eyes flying to the door that was now only hanging on by its bottom hinges. The man walked into the stall, narrow eyes glaring at you from over his mask, gun raised, the barrel pointed directly at you.

"Help me, please!" You cried into your phone, and you could hear frantic clicking on the other side, the man reassuring you that the police were on the way.

"Son of a bitch." The man cursed lowly before lowering the gun and making quick strides towards you, snatching the device from your hands and throwing it to the ground at your feet. Another scream echoed in the room when he shot your phone, the gunshot causing your ears to ring, absolute terror blooming in your chest.

Then his eyes were on you once again, a sharp glare burning into your skin, and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. He stepped back, raising the large gun once more, aiming it at you, and you cried, holding your hands up.

"Get up, right now." He ordered, and you could only nod, slowly pulling your body out of the small space. You kept your movements deliberate, hoping not to alert the man and have him shoot you.

When you were on your feet, standing in front of him, he looked you up and down before stepping forward. You flinched when he roughly grabbed your arm, shoving you out of the bathroom stall and towards the door.

"Go and no funny business, I won't hesitate to put a bullet in your head." He threatened, and you weren't about to call whether he was bluffing or not, and walked towards the bathroom door.

He led you back out into the main room, the barrel of his rifle pressed right between the space of your shoulder blades. Tears flowed endlessly down your cheeks as he pushed you towards the other hostages.

"Oh, you got her, nice. I thought you would've shot her." Another one of the perps chuckled as he looked towards you, his eyes crinkling over his mask.

"I'm not trigger-happy like Wooyoung, but she called the cops, so we need to hurry up." The man behind you spoke, shoving you to the ground near Bohwa. Once on the ground, you moved towards your dual-haired best friend, grabbing her shaky hand into your own. You didn't have to talk to her to know that she was absolutely petrified, and so were you, heart thumping in your throat as you looked around, seeing that all of the men around you held rifles of sorts.

"Yeosang is struggling with the safe; there's a double code on it." Another of the men responded, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Fuck if she called the cops, then they'll be here any moment," A man on your far right spoke, agitation lacing his tone, and he glared right at you. "I say we just kill her so she can't cause anymore issues."

Your heart nearly stopped when he stepped towards you, raising his firearm and pointing directly at you. Bohwa screamed, wrapping her arms around your body and holding you close, begging them to stop.

The one that found you in the bathroom stomped over, grabbing the barrel and pushing it down, "knock it the fuck off, we don't need more bloodshed than necessary."

"San's right, keep a level head, we'll be out of here soon." The man by the teller's desk spoke, glaring at the men near you.

You looked up with teary eyes, sobs racked your lungs, and fear dug its claw into your spine, not planning to let go anytime soon. The sound of sirens was heard outside, and you could feel your heart ease slightly, knowing that you and Bohwa would be safe soon. That was until another gunshot went off, screams echoing in the large room.

"Don't get too excited, folks, if we don't get out of here…" The man at the teller counter spoke, lowering his rifle, "Neither will you."

"Captain, don't you think that's a little overzealous?" A taller male who was standing a few feet away from the man spoke, his head turning to look at him.

"Not at all," He chuckled, eyes glancing down to the weapon that sat fully loaded in his hands. "It's either arrest us after we kill everyone here, or they try to save everyone. What do you think they'll choose, hmm?"

Fear clouded your mind as you clung to Bohwa, the little boy who was still tucked into her side, sobbed quietly. The man who was ready to shoot you shoved the other man off him before turning to look at their boss.

"What's the plan, boss? None of us here is equipped to help Yeosang and Seonghwa." The man asked, slowly lowering the rifle in his hands, and you felt a small breath of relief flow out of your lungs.

You looked around the room, seeing that there weren't very many windows that you could see out of without standing, but based on the sounds of the sirens, you knew there had to be multiple cop cars outside. Waiting. Your anxiety started to skyrocket as different scenarios of how this could play out in your head, none of which ended well.

"Why aren't the cops coming?" The little boy next to Bohwa whispered, looking over at you with teary eyes, and you swallowed thickly.

"I don't know, bud, but this should be over soon." You tried to reassure him despite the bile that crept up the back of your throat.

Then something registered in your fear-riddled mind. They couldn't get into the safe because of an encrypted code. Once you were sure that you could crack, and hopefully they'll just leave with their money.

However, before you could speak up, the shrill sound of a phone echoed in the room, causing the others near you to jump. You watched as the man they called Captain picked up the phone, hit a button, and threw the receiver down on the counter.

"Hello?" He answered in a singsong tone, his eyes crinkling as he smirked and looked over at the man standing next to him.

"This is the police. We have the building surrounded. Drop your weapons and step out of the building with your hands raised above your head, and no one will have to get hurt." A male voice flowed through the speaker, and your heart thumped loudly against your ribcage.

"You see, officer, that's where you're wrong. If we have to leave this building, all the people here with us won't be able to come with us." He started, glancing back at the group of hostages, a sinister gleam in his eyes, "at least not breathing."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" The officer asked, and the man laughed. Laughed.

"I have just the plan in mind," The man spoke once more, leaning against the marble countertop. Some of the hostages around you gasped while others cried, fear in every one of their eyes. Bohwa's grip tightened on your body as a small whimper fell from her lips, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Care to share?"

The man laughed in amusement, turning around to grab the receiver end of the phone, "You'll see soon enough, dear officer." Then he hung up the phone before tearing the phone line out of the back of it so they couldn't call again. He then turned back towards his men, a glare adorning his features. "Here's the plan: we need to find a way to open that safe. Once we can get that open, we'll work on our escape plan."

"How are we going to open the safe, boss? None of us is tech-savvy like the other two." The taller male next to the leader spoke, eyes glancing over to the hostages.

"I don't know Mingi, but we'd better figure it out, or I'll personally make sure no one here lives to see another light of day." The man sneered, and you felt your blood run cold, your ears ringing at the implication of his words.

The room then broke out into chaos, and the men around you started to argue amongst themselves while the hostages huddled closer together. You looked around the room as you tried to think of any way to get you and Bohwa, as well as the others, out of here, and there was only one thing that came to mind.

Help them, and they'll let you go.

You swallowed thickly before leaning away from Bohwa, catching her attention. Noticing that you were looking at the men, your eyes flickering between them, she could see the gears turning in your head. She grabbed your arm, pulling your attention back to her, and she shook her head violently. You patted her hand, reassuring her and clearing your throat.

"E-Excuse me?" You called out, catching the attention of the man who found you in the bathroom, San, you believed his name was, as well as the man who stood next to him. They both looked over at you with a raised eyebrow, the other man's fingers tightened around his gun, and your heart rate spiked.

"Shut up and stay down." The man sneered, and you flinched, holding your hands up.

"You guys just want the money, right?" Your voice shook slightly as you looked at them before your eyes caught the bosses. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you continued when they didn't stop you, "I can hack the system and get past the encrypted code to open it."

"Y/n, stop," Bohwa begged, tugging on your shirt, but you just ignored her and looked up at the men, hoping they wouldn't think you were bluffing.

The leader of the group pushed himself off the counter and stalked towards you. Your breath caught in your throat when he pushed past the two men and crouched down in front of you. He reached forward, grabbing a stray strand of hair that fell from your hair clip, twirling it around his finger.

"So you're telling me that you can crack open a safe my men have worked hours on?" He asked, his tone almost condescending, and your eyes widened at his close proximity. Then he moved his hand away from your face, resting it on his bent knees. "What makes you think we'll believe you?"

You let out a shaky breath, eyes staying glued to the man in front of you as fear encased your entire being. "Because the code they're trying to crack isn't just a simple one, it has multiple layers, and you have to work quickly in order to get through them all before it kicks you out and you have to try again."

The man in front of you hummed, raising his hand to point at the man behind him, "radio Yeosang and see where they're at."

"Got it." He nodded, grabbing the walkie-talkie attached to his belt and bringing it to his mouth. "Yeosang, do you copy? Where are we with cracking the safe?"

"There's more code than I thought, and this damn thing keeps kicking me back before I can get far enough." A voice crackled through the radio a few moments later, and all three men's eyes flickered back to you. "This goes beyond my capabilities to crack."

The man in front of you takes the walkie-talkie from the other man, bringing it to his mouth, "Hold on, we have someone here who might be able to help you."

You watched with bated breath as he handed the radio back to the man behind him, his eyes never leaving yours. He then reached towards you once more, and you didn't dare to move a single inch. A small gasp fell from your lips when he grabbed your chin, forcing your face up.

"You get one chance. One. If you fuck up or try anything sneaky, I'll have my men put a bullet in your pretty head, then we'll take your cute little friend here, and I can't promise we'll be gentle." He warned, and your body went still at the mention of Bohwa. Seeing the terror in your eyes, he smiled, and you could tell by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Wooyoung," The man calls for someone, and a few moments later, another man steps up to his side, "take her back there to Yeosang and Seonghwa. Keep an eye on her, and if she tries anything, kill her."

He then released his hold on your chin, shoving your head to the side before standing up and moving away from you. You brush some of your hair out of your face before looking back up when a shadow was cast over you, seeing a pair of fox-like eyes staring down at you.

"Get up," He demanded, finger resting just shy of the gun trigger, and you nodded, slowly raising up on shaky legs. Bohwa grabbed at your wrist, pleading with you not to go, but you just looked down at her with a soft smile.

"It's okay, I'll be right back." You tried to reassure her even though you didn't fully believe it yourself. She reluctantly released her hold on your wrist upon seeing the rifle Wooyoung was inching up.

"I wouldn't make promises you can't keep, doll," The man before you chuckled, and you turned to look at him, biting your tongue to keep yourself from saying something that could get you into trouble.

Then he led you across the lobby and towards a back door, holding it open; he motioned for you to go first. Without a second thought, you walked through the threshold, looking at your surroundings.

"Keep going," The fox-eyed male instructed, and you continued walking down the dimly lit hallway, heart hammering in your chest. The air between the two of you was silent; the only sounds you could hear were the echoes of your footsteps and the dull thrum of the AC.

Getting to the end of the hall, Wooyoung instructed you to turn to your right, and before too long, you saw two other men standing in front of a large safe door. One stood close to the entrance of the room, gun held tightly in his hands, while the other stood in front of a laptop, typing furiously but cursing when it kicked him out again.

"Who's this?" The dark, long-haired man by the door asked, looking you up and down, making your hair stand tall. Wooyoung shoved you further into the room, making you stumble slightly, a gasp falling from your lips.

"She claims she can crack the code," Wooyoung informed his two teammates, and you looked over, meeting the eyes of a redhead. His gaze was cold, sending a shiver racing down your spine and locking your feet in place.

"And you believed her?" The redhead asked, eyes moving from your form to the fox-eyed male that still stood behind you, gun slug over his shoulder now.

"She called the code layers before you said anything." Wooyoung shrugs, moving over to you and grabbing your bicep, dragging you over to the laptop, and redhead you deciphered to be Yeosang.

"Whatever, if it gets us outta here faster, have at it, peaches." Yeosang took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest as Wooyoung shoved you in front of the device. Your eyes flickered over the fox-eyed male who just raised an eyebrow before you looked at the device, codes lining the screen.

You sniffle, wiping your face free of stray tears and clearing your vision before wiping your hands on your jeans. Stepping close to the laptop, you placed your fingers on the keyboard before you read the already existing code, easily finding the odd ones out that you'd guess were the answers. Then your fingers flew across the keyboard, eyes quickly scanning the screen for the answers, and before too long, you got to the last screen. With bated breath, you pressed Enter after entering the code, and the screen went black.

Your hands shook as you let them fall to your sides, and you saw Wooyoung move his rifle to his front. Almost all the air was left in your lungs when he aimed it at you, but then the device lit up, the words 'access granted' appearing in big green letters.

"Did she get it?" The man by the door asked, turning and stepping towards the three of you.

"Fuck yeah, she did," Wooyoung nodded, dropping the firearm and pulling his mask down to reveal a wide, smug smile, and he watched as the vault door clicked before opening slowly. You looked over at him with wide eyes, taking in his appearance, and something about him seemed familiar, but you didn't get a chance to think for too long before Yeosang was moving past you.

"Captain, we're in." He spoke into the walkie-talkie, eyes locked onto the massive vault before him.

You took a hesitant step over to look inside, your eyes going wide at all of the cases that sat inside. The amount of money in there could have you and Bohwa living comfortably for the rest of your lives, not having to worry about another late tuition fee or even food, for that matter. It was a dream that you never thought you could imagine happening, but as Wooyoung glanced over at you, all of it went down the drain. You were only a hostage in this situation; none of this would have ended up in your hands.

"Good. Mingi, Yunho, and Jongho are on their way back there. Grab everything valuable, and we'll meet at the rendezvous spot." The man from the lobby came through the radio, and you wondered if he'd toss you back into the lobby with Bohwa. However, your blood turns to ice as his voice crackles through the speaker again: "And grab the girl, we're taking her with us."

You slowly backed away in fear, heart hammering in your chest and fresh tears pooling in your eyes. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen; you were just going to open the safe so they could get their money and leave. Now, not only did they want the money, but they wanted you as well. A sharp gasp fell from your lips when your back met the wall. You placed your hands flat against the cool cement.

"We gotta move fast, I'm pretty sure those pigs know we got it open." A new voice was heard from the hall, and your eyes snapped over. Through your teary vision, you made out three figures, two of which you recognized from the lobby, but the man standing in front with his mask hanging off his ear must have been one you didn't get a good look at.

"Hey, you," Your heart nearly stopped as the man who had threatened to shoot you stepped closer. His gun was hanging from his side, but you knew he could quickly grab it if needed. "Do you know how to open the drawers?"

Your eyes went wide at his question, and you shook your head, tears dripping from your eyelashes. Just as he was about to reach you, the unmasked man grabbed his arm with a sharp glare.

"Knock it off, Jongho. We're already in the system. Yeosang just has to go in and unlock it." He sneered, pulling the man back, and he quickly shoved him off. The redhead from before walked out of the vault, his bag already full and zipped.

"Y'all are just wasting time, let's go." He rolled his eyes, his mask pulled down below his chin. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in his full appearance, light freckles dusted his cheeks, and the black jewelry that decorated his nose and lip made him look ethereal. Catching your eye, he raised his eyebrow, the low lighting reflecting off another piercing, and you quickly averted your gaze, mentally shunning yourself as your cheeks flushed.

"Mingi, stay out here with her, don't let her run off." The man standing next to Jongho pointed to the other taller man, who hummed.

Your feet stayed frozen in place as every one of the men stepped inside the vault, and the sound of metal clinking and banging filled the air. The man outside the vault stood just a few feet away, eyes trained on the vault but flickering to you and the room entrance every few seconds. All you wanted to do was get to Bohwa and go home, safe. Yet with how things were going now, you weren't sure that was possible.

'Stupid, you should've just kept your mouth shut.' You murmured to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and pushing more tears down your cheeks.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before you heard the man's voice traveling out of the vault, and you felt a hand on your shoulder. A small sob fell from your lips when your eyes snapped open, seeing the very fox-eyed male that pulled you back here. His lips curled into a borderline sinister smile, his lip ring wrapping snugly around his plump lip.

"Let's go, doll, we've got one last thing to do before we leave." He told you, moving his hand to your bicep and tugging you away from the wall. You bit your tongue to keep the sounds of your sobs to a minimum as Wooyoung followed behind the man they called Mingi and the other taller male, his hand still tightly wrapped around your arm.

You kept your gaze downcast, staring at your dirty sneakers as they all led the way back to the lobby. Each of them sported a large duffel bag filled with god who knows what, but probably extremely valuable items along with cash. The sounds of their heavy footsteps echoed in the halls, adding to the pounding that had started in your head.

Before too long, they stopped before the lobby door, fixed their masks, and Mingi opened it, and Wooyoung pulled you through and towards the counter where the leader was standing. The man looked over at you, his eyes crinkling as he smiled and reached out towards you, patting your cheek.

"Well, would you look at that, the little bird does know what she's talking about." He delivered a particularly hard slap, causing you to flinch, breath catching in your throat.

Then he was looking over at all of the hostages, his crazed eyes glancing at each of them. Following his gaze, you found Bohwa already staring at you, her eyes wide in horror as they kept you near them.

"Ah, attention everyone, please." His voice boomed in the large room, echoing off the marble walls, "It is with great sadness that I announce that our time here together has come to an ungratifying ending." He shook his head with faux disappointment, and you felt bile creep up your throat. "We have collected what we came here for, plus a bit more." his eyes shifted over to you, and your body froze. "Good job on staying alive. Well… most of you." Your gaze shifted to the dead security guard that wasn't but three feet from the huddled group of hostages, "You all will be released soon after we've made our way out, but until then, I suggest you stay put."

A collective sigh of relief flooded from the group of hostages, a few smiling at their loved ones. However, Bohwa's eyes were still trained on your form, eyes flickering to where Wooyoung was still holding you with an iron grip. You tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but it did very little in the current situation.

"There's one more thing." The room fell into a hushed silence once more when the man before you spoke. He smiled before turning to look at you, reaching over, grabbing your other bicep, and pulling you from Wooyoung's grip, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "It has come to my attention that we've found a valuable asset among you, and she has seen my men's faces. So she will be coming with us."

Upon hearing this, your knees threatened to buckle underneath you, and you heard a few gasps from the crowd. Then you heard shuffling, lifting your gaze, you saw Bohwa start to stand up, tears streaming down her face, and your heart skipped. The sound of guns cocking echoed off the walls, and you took a half step forward, tears blurring your vision.

"Bohwa, stop!" You yelled at her, trying to pull your arms from the man's grasp, but he just dug his fingers into your skin. Looking over, you saw the tall man from the vault as well as Wooyoung holding up their rifles, and panic started to flood your veins. Without much thought, you grabbed the man's wrist and looked up at him, "I'll go, just let me talk to her, please." You pleaded with the man, and he just raised an eyebrow at you.

Not saying a word, he lifted his hand and motioned your dual-haired friend over, but not a single one of the men lowered their firearms. He didn't let go; if anything, his grip tightened as Bohwa got closer, causing you to flinch in pain.

"Y/n, what's going on?" She asked, stepping up to you with tears streaming down her cheeks, and you just offered her a small smile.

"Bohwa, I'll be okay, just go sit back down and wait for the doors to open," You told her, taking her outstretched hands, and she wrapped her fingers tightly around your trembling hand.

She shook her head, "I-I can't, I'm sorry,"

Before you could even question why she was apologizing, she was moving, wrapping something around your wrist, and the clicking sound echoed in your ears. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the man tried to pull you away, but it was too late, and you looked down, seeing a pair of handcuffs connecting your wrist to hers. Your eyes went wide when the men around you started to move, incoherent shouts bouncing off the walls and gun barrels aimed right at your best friend.

"Just fucking shoot her and take the cuff off." One of the men shouts, and your body moved before you could register, pulling your arm out of the man's with surprising strength and wrapping yourself around Bohwa, misty eyes glaring at all of the robbers around you.

"Don't fucking touch her." You hissed, voice nearly cracking at the end, and your fingers curled into the fabric of Bohwa's t-shirt. "If you hurt her, I will fight like hell, making sure you don't get out of here without the police coming in."

The room went silent, save for the few sobs from the hostages and your raging heartbeat ringing in your ears. Your glare never dissipated as the men stared at you, gauging whether or not you were being serious. However, the leader chuckled as he brought his hands up, clapping, the sound making your stomach turn.

"Bravo, amazing performance, I might say." He nodded his head before motioning for his men to lower their weapons and move towards you. You took a small step back, pulling Bohwa with you as she looked over at the man from where her head was tucked into your chest. "Now tell me, how would you do that?"

Swallowing thickly, you steel yourself, straightening your body, "There's an emergency hatch release on the barricade, which I already entered the code for back at the vault. All I have to do is hit the button." You told him, pointing at the teller desk, and a small keyring fell from your fingers. Upon seeing it, the man's eyes narrowed, and the redhead from the vault stepped forward, curses falling from his lips. "I press the button, and the police will come flooding in here, giving you no time to escape."

"You fucking bi—" The man in front of you inhaled sharply, stopping himself, and nodded his head, "you're lucky we need you, otherwise I'd put a bullet in both you and your friend's heads."

"Boss, what do we do?" The dark-haired male who had been guarding the door, Seonghwa, asked, stepping up to the shorter male.

He gritted his teeth before stepping towards you, holding an expectant hand out, "Give me the key chain, sweetheart." Your eyes flickered down to his hand to the other men who still had their fingers hovering around the trigger. Becoming fed up with your lack of cooperation, he grabs the pistol that was attached to his belt, aiming it right at Bohwa. "Last chance, don't mistake my leniency for kindness."

Your heart lurched into your throat, and you felt Bohwa's grip tighten on your shirt, her tears staining the fabric. There were only two possible outcomes here: he kills Bohwa while she's in your arms and takes the release switch during the chaos, still taking you with them, or you just give it to him, and both you and Bohwa go with them, hopefully unscathed.

With trembling fingers, you take a small step forward, placing the keyring in the man's outstretched hand, and he nods. Bringing the keyring closer to him, he inspects it before tossing it to Yeosang, who catches it with ease. Then his eyes were back on you, fury burning in his brown orbs.

"Go," He demanded, motioning towards the teller's desk where Wooyoung and Jongho were standing. Not daring to defy him while he pointed a gun at you, both of you moved towards the men, pulling Bohwa along with you. She slipped her hand that was attached to yours into your palm, intertwining her fingers with yours.

"Perfect. We'll be on our way now; the doors have been programmed to open after thirty minutes. It's been fun, wouldn't you say?" He asked, tone condescending, causing the hostages to cower in fear, but none said a single word.

He then turned to his men, a scowl covering his features, and moved towards the back door, instructing Wooyoung and Seonghwa to grab you and Bohwa. They led both of you back down the hallway where the vault was, everyone else filing in behind. Bohwa squeezed your hand tightly, and you glanced at her, guilt clawing itself into your mind. Had you just stayed put, neither of you would be in the predicament you're in right now.

A sudden rush of annoyance flooded your veins when the leader stopped in front of a plain brick wall. "What exactly is the plan here? Are you really stupid enough to try to blow a hole in the wall?" The words tumbled out of your lips before you could stop them, and in seconds, your head was thrown to the side, pain blooming across your cheek.

"Keep that mouth of yours shut," The man growled, tugging his mask down, revealing a pair of snake bite piercings and a sneer, "next time it won't be just a harmless slap."

Tears stung in your eyes as you turned your head to look at him, Bohwa reaching for your face with panic-stricken eyes. You held the man's furious gaze for a moment before Bohwa touched your lip, causing you to hiss, flinching away from her touch.

"You're bleeding," She stated, eyes glued to where ruby red blood seeped from your busted lip.

"I-I'm fine." You choked out, tongue judging out to press against the open wound, the metallic taste of blood overwhelming your taste buds.

"Yeosang," the leader called out to the redhead who walked up to the wall, and you watched him press against a tile, causing it to pop open, revealing a keypad.

Rolling his sleeves up, you caught a glimpse of ink on his left arm, but you didn't stare too long before he was typing in a code. You held your breath as you heard gears start to whirl, and the wall cracked open, and inside was an elevator. Suddenly, you realized why they chose this bank of all the ones in the city. Because they had a good way out that probably no one but the designers knew about.

"We'll go down in two groups, just to make sure the police aren't on our tail." The leader instructed before his eyes landed on you once again, "Wooyoung, Seonghwa, Mingi, and San, you'll go down with these two. Don't let them out of your sight."

"Aye aye," Wooyoung nodded at the man with a smirk as he and Seonghwa tugged the two of you towards the elevator, your heart hammering in your chest the closer you got. Once those doors closed, you would really be trapped with no way to get you and Bohwa out.

Bohwa grabbed your hand and held you close to her body as you stood against the back wall. San and Mingi filled in behind the four of you, and San pushed the button that Yeosang told him to. The ringing in your ears was almost deafening as you watched the doors slowly close, your breathing accelerating as the machine started to move. Noticing your panic, Bohwa squeezed your hand, prompting you to look over at her, more tears brimming along your waterline.

"Please don't start crying," Seonghwa grumbled as he looked over at your pathetic form, bottom lip pulled between your teeth, and Bohwa looked over at him with a glare.

"I get y'all think you're this all-powerful being, but have some compassion, she doesn't do well in enclosed spaces." She told the dark-haired male, who just rolled his eyes, but she ignored him as she looked over at you.

Your hands shook like crazy at your sides, and your heart felt as if it were trying to burst out of your chest. There was movement at your side, but you didn't even notice it until there was something placed on your head, the person forcing your gaze down to the ground.

"Just focus on something else," Wooyoung's voice was smooth as his hand fell away from the bill of his hat, and without meaning to, you caught the sleeve of his jacket, the silver of his rings catching your attention.

Bohwa's hand wrapped around your wrist, but your attention was zeroed in on the assortment of rings that decorated the man's hand. Wooyoung didn't say a word, nor did he move, as your smaller hand held his wrist, fingers pressed right against his pulse point.

Feeling his steady heartbeat under your fingertips either eased your own or tricked it into calming down. Either way, you felt your heart start to slow, the ringing in your ears slowly dying down, and all you could hear was the turning of the gears. Then it came to a stop, the metal box jerking slowly before the doors opened.

Pulling his wrist from your hand, Wooyoung grabbed your bicep and led you and Bohwa out of the elevator. Once out, you finally lifted your head and watched as the doors closed, returning to the surface level. Mingi slung his rifle over his shoulder and took off his ball cap, running his fingers through his long hair, the color almost silver in the dim light. San only took his mask off, fixing the hat so he could see, while Seonghwa ripped the cap off before shaking his head.

"Should we put them in the SUV?" San asked, pointing to you and Bohwa, who was checking you over to make sure you were okay.

"Are you gonna sit in there with them?" Mingi asked, balling the cap in his hand and raising an eyebrow at the feline-eyed male who just rolled his eyes.

The two then started bickering, catching your attention, and you looked at them from under the bill of the cap, wondering if they were always at each other's throats. Growing annoyed with their bickering, Seonghwa walked over to Mingi and snatched the car keys from his hand, earning a glare from the taller male.

"Knock it the fuck off, or would you like for Hongjoong to leave your asses here for the cops?" He asked, glaring back at the silver-haired male before giving San a similar look, then turning towards Wooyoung, "Sit with them in the SUV; the others should be here shortly."

Wooyoung hummed before gently tugging on your arm and guiding you and Bohwa towards a sleek black SUV hidden in the shadows. He opened the door and instructed the two of you to get in the far back after turning on the cabin lights. Bohwa tugged on your wrist, a look of unease on her face and you just shook your head, you couldn't escape not when you had no idea where this place even was.

Climbing into the car, you let Bohwa sit next to the window before sitting next to her, your body pressed against hers, and she grabbed your hand for comfort. Wooyoung got in next, sitting in one of the middle seats and shutting the door, turning the cabin light off, leaving the three of you in darkness.

Your eyes then glanced down to the pair of handcuffs that attached you to your dual-haired best friend. Reaching down with your free hand, you grabbed the chain, tugging on it slightly and catching Bohwa's attention.

"This was really stupid, I hope you know that." You told her bluntly, gaze flickering up to meet hers from under the cap that you were still wearing. Her eyes narrowed into slits, glaring at you, wondering where you even got the audacity.

"Says the one who offered to hack into the bank system, you'll be lucky not to get arrested if the cops find us." She hissed and your heart lurched, she was right, you had become an aid to these people the moment you offered to open the vault. All words died on your tongue as you looked at her, but Bohwa just sighed, "I'm sorry, I know you were just hoping they'd leave after getting what they wanted. I also wasn't thinking, I just didn't want you to be forced to go or go alone."

You let out a sigh, slipping your hand into hers again, squeezing it. Wooyoung turned in his seat, looking back at the two of you.

"Your friend is right, that was a pretty ballsy move." He stated, looking at Bohwa before his eyes flickered over to you. His gaze lingered for a moment before he let it fall to the locked cuffs, "Did you even grab the keys?" He asked, and Bohwa's lips curled inward as you looked over at her, curious, and a deep sigh left Wooyoung's lips when she shook her head. "Of course not."

He reached up, turned the cabin lights back on, and shrugged his leather jacket off, revealing his ink-covered arms. You couldn't help but stare at the designs, most too hard to make out in the dim lighting, but the ones you could see seemed to tell a story you may never hear. Noticing your gaze, the dark-haired male smirked, sending you a wink that caused your face to burn.

"If you want a closer look, all you gotta do is ask, doll," He teased, grabbing something from the center compartment before squeezing between the middle seats to crouch in front of you. Put the objects he grabbed in one hand he grabbed your joined wrists with the other. "Hold still," He instructed, scooting forward, and your heart leaped into your throat when he rested his arm over the top of your thighs, eyes focused on the piece of metal.

Not a word was spoken as he worked on picking the lock on your side of the cuff, his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyes watched him work, a piece of dark hair fell from behind his ear, and you had the sudden urge to brush it back. Bohwa watched you with furrowed eyebrows, and as her eyes burned into your skin, you looked over at her, eyes wide in realization you'd been caught.

Her gaze said all that was needed to be said, her eyes asking if you were insane, and you swallowed thickly. You knew you shouldn't be looking at the man in front of you like that, he had been a part of a heist and kidnapped you for god sake. Yet as you felt the weight of his arm on your thighs, you could only feel a strange sense of safety, or maybe you were just going crazy.

Averting your gaze back down to his arm, you could make out what looked like a tree branch of sorts on his bicep that trailed down to his upper forearm. The branches almost looked like water flowing down a waterfall, then you saw the pinkish-red splotches. Upon looking more closely, you realized they were cherry blossom petals.

"There," Wooyoung's voice startled you out of your daze, and you looked at your now free wrist, the skin red from how tightly Bohwa had latched it. He then grabbed the now open cuff, using it to tug Bohwa's wrist further into your lap, causing her to hiss in pain. She glared at him as you pulled your wrist to your chest, rubbing the sore skin with your other hand.

When he was done, he pulled the cuffs away and pushed away from your lap, sitting back in his seat. He glanced over at you with a teasing smirk, seeing the red that dusted your cheekbones, but didn't say a word. Then the door was being pulled open, Yeosang stood there with a sneer etched onto his features as he pulled the mask off his face.

"Backseats all yours." Wooyoung teased the redhead, who only glared at him before climbing into the car, taking the empty seat next to you. Your breath caught in your throat when his thigh pressed against yours.

You met Bohwa's gaze silently as the men opened the trunk and started placing things inside. Neither of you dared to turn to look, fully aware that they still had guns on them. Then the trunk slammed shut, and more people climbed into the car. Mingi took the empty seat next to Wooyoung while San and Yunho sat in the front, the latter in the driver's seat.

"What's the plan, Yunho?" San asked, latching his seatbelt as he looked at the older male who was looking out the windshield to find the other car the rest of the team was in.

"We do as we discuss, lose the masks and hats. Keep things civil if we get stopped, then get back to base." He told the younger male, sparing him a glance before starting the vehicle, the engine easily roaring to life, and your heart started hammering. All of the guys who were still wearing the masks or hats took them off, handing them to Mingi to shove into the space under the driver's seat, making sure they weren't visible.

In your spot, you could see clearly out the front windshield, and you watched as a small sedan-type car drove past the front of the SUV. You were sure that Yunho would pull out and follow the others, but instead, he pulled forward and turned in the opposite direction.

"When we make it out of the main city, those two need to be blindfolded," Yunho spoke again, driving down a dark tunnel, and the redhead next to you nodded, eyes flickering over to you.

You weren't sure how long the car had been driving, the darkness making it hard to keep track of time. Bohwa's grip on your hand tightened, her leg bouncing under your joint hands, and you squeezed her hand back, hoping to ease her nerves a bit, but to no avail. Then, when the car finally came out from underground, you had to bring your hand up to block the bright garage lights.

Glancing out the window, you noticed that it was just a normal parking garage, cars lining the walls. You wondered if this was a public parking garage because almost all of the cars you saw were luxury vehicles. However, you weren't given the chance to dwell on it when Yunho pulled up to the exit, and your heart stopped when you noticed two uniformed police standing by the exit. Bohwa tugged on your hand discreetly, thinking that this might be your chance to get out, but that thought quickly died when you felt something hard press against your side, and warm air washed over your ear.

"Don't even think about it," Yeosang growled, causing a chill to run down your spine, and you quickly nodded, not daring to say a word.

You tugged on Bohwa's hand, gaining her attention, and she looked at you with hopeful eyes, but that hope faded away when she saw the terror in your eyes and the glare the redhead was giving from your other side.

Pulling up to the exit, Yunho rolled down his window with a small smile, "Good evening, officer."

"Hello fellas, what are y'all doing out so late in the evening?" The police officer asked, bending down enough to look inside the vehicle. San gave him a dimpled smile with a simple nod.

"Just taking these guys back home, we were hanging out up in my place," Yunho told him, the words rolling off his tongue like silk. No one would dare question whether or not he was lying.

"Ah, well, you'd best get on that. Police are gonna be everywhere for a while after the robbery." The officer explained, and Yunho nodded while Wooyoung gasped, almost too dramatically but in a way that didn't make him suspicious.

"There was a robbery?" He asked, causing the officer to look to the backseat, where the long-haired male was staring at him in disbelief. You watched with bated breath, the weight of the pistol against your side heavy.

"Yeah, over at the bank just around the block here." The older man nodded before fixing his gaze back on Yunho, who offered him another smile, "Well, you folks better get a move on, have a good night."

"You as well, sir," Yunho nodded his head before driving out of the garage, rolling the window up. As soon as the window was all the way up, the smile dropped from Yunho's face, replaced by a look of disgust. "Stupid pigs," he grunted, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror and catching your gaze, but you were quick to avert your eyes.

Yeosang didn't remove the firearm from your side until Yunho drove out of city limits and told him to blindfold you and Bohwa. He holstered the gun before grabbing the fabric Wooyoung was holding out to him, giving you a pointed look.

"Turn around," He commanded, and your stomach churned at his low tone, bile creeping up your throat once more at the thought of not being able to see where you were going. However, you didn't utter a word as you turned your body so you were facing Bohwa, who was watching you with wide eyes.

Your breath caught in your throat when the dark fabric was brought over your eyes, stealing your sight away. His fingers brushed the tips of your ears, the sensation causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. Swallowing thickly, you squeezed Bohwa's hand when you felt the fabric tighten around your head, then he was moving away from you.

All you saw was black; barely any light came through the fabric, making all your other senses enhance. You heard Yeosang shuffle behind you—felt him move. A sharp gasp fell from your lips when his hands found your hips, moving your body over to his spot and separating you and Bohwa. You started to stand and protest, but his hand landed on your thighs, just shy of your core, and pushed you back down.

"Stay put," Yeosang demanded, adding pressure to your legs when you tried to move, but you went completely still, feeling his lip brush against your ear again, "unless you wanna drive back with a dead best friend, then I suggest you keep your ass still." He threatened, and the weight of his words knocked the air right out of your lungs.

"Leave her alone, asshole," Bohwa cried out, worried that the redhead would hurt you, and Yeosang glared at her.

"Wooyoung, do we have any more of those zip ties?" Yeosang asked, not taking his hand off your body until he grabbed the black zip ties the younger male was holding out. Yeosang grabbed your wrists in his hands, quickly tying them together before finally moving away and turning towards the dual-haired girl on his other side.

"Need a gag too?" Wooyoung asked, a teasing smirk spreading across his face as he watched Yeosang snatch Bohwa's wrists, tying them tightly and causing her to yelp. The redhead didn't say a word as he took the other piece of fabric from Wooyoung and forced it over Bohwa's lips, muffling her protests.

"I'm two seconds away from bashing your head into the window," Yeosang growled, and your heart dropped, fingers curling into fists.

"Bohwa, stop please." You begged her, worried that they would actually hurt her.

"You heard your friend Bohwa." Wooyoung's tone was all mockery, and Bohwa stopped moving when Yeosang's fingers tangled in her hair, jerking her head back. With a sneer, Yeosang tied the fabric around her eyes, not caring that he caught some of her hair in the knot.

"God damn," Yeosang groaned, grabbing the seatbelt roughly and snapping it in place over Bohwa's body, making sure the mechanism locked. Then he sat down in the middle seat, a scowl on his face from having to deal with you two.

You brought your knees up to your chest, hooking your bound arms over them and burying your face in your thighs. Noticing your movement, Yeosang glances over at you, his gaze softening just a little bit. He felt bad for you, that such a pretty girl like you got caught up in their mess, but then again, it was your fault for trying to be brave.

Your head spun as the car drove down the roads, so many thoughts spiraled, and you wondered if your roommate was worried. If anyone you knew was worried about where you went. But you already knew the answer to that, your parents couldn't care less, too worried about your brother to care, and the only friend that would care was stuck in this car with you.

Slowly, you started to feel yourself slipping into the blackness of slumber, the adrenaline finally wearing off, leaving behind exhaustion. Your breathing began to slow, and your muscles relaxed, causing your body to slip to the side as Yunho turned.

Yeosang's body went stiff as your body fell over onto his, his eyes flickering over to you, ready to tell you off. However, when he caught sight of your parted lips and lax body, he knew instantly that you were asleep. His posture relaxed, and, against his better judgment, he leaned back so your head rested against his chest.

The scent of sweet vanilla mixed with cherries flowed into Yeosang's nose, nearly intoxicating the male. He glanced down at you, brushing some of your hair out of your face before bringing a few strands to his nose, inhaling deeply.

Wooyoung glanced back just as Yeosang dropped your hair, raising an eyebrow at the redhead, a slight hint of annoyance gleaming in his eyes. Yeosang, however, just gave him a deadpan stare, pressing the pads of his fingers against your neck, right against your pulse point, causing your body to shiver. The two men held eye contact for a moment, tension forming between them even if neither said a word.

—

"Finally, we're fucking home," Mingi exclaimed, pulling you from your slumber, and your body jerked, panic flooding your chest when you couldn't see anything but black.

'Shit, shit, shit, did I fall asleep? Where's Bohwa?' You asked yourself frantically, reaching out to find your dual-haired friend. However, heat rushed up your neck when you touch someone's thigh, a low groan flowing into your ears.

Yeosang grabbed your wandering hands, tugging your body closer to his until his nose bumped into yours, and you gasped. Your heart started to hammer in your chest as you felt his warm breath fan over your parted lips.

"I'd watch where you put your hands, peaches, or you'll get yourself in trouble." He warned you, and you swallowed thickly, nodding your head. "Good girl,"

Your breath hitched in your throat at the praise, heat turning your cheeks a deep shade of red. Then the cloth covering your eyes was pulled away, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut at the sudden light that came from the cabin light. Blinking a few times, you looked around the SUV, seeing that Mingi and Wooyoung had already gotten out, leaving the doors open. However, you saw Wooyoung standing just on the other side of the door, talking to Seonghwa.

"Let's go," Yeosang stood from his spot, tugging you up out of yours as well, and that's when you noticed that Bohwa was still sitting in her seat, her head lying back. Panic started to flood your system thinking they had done something to her, but when you noticed that she was moving a small sigh of relief fell from your lips.

The redhead guided you out of the car, his hand lingering just a moment too long on your lower back. Deciding that it was best to ignore it, you just stepped out of the vehicle, your legs nearly giving out on you due to not moving for so long. A small gasp fell from your lips when you stumbled but before you could fall a pair of strong hands wrapped around your waist, holding you steady.

"Watch your step there, doll," Wooyoung chuckled, helping you stand straight, and the smell of his cologne invaded your senses. You grabbed his forearm as you looked up at him before looking over and the house before you had your eyes widening.

"W-Who…?" Your voice trailed off as you took in the huge house that sat before you. The white brick was covered in flowered vines. There had to be at least two stories, maybe even a basement. Yet the only thought in your head was why would they rob a bank when they owned this.

Seeing your look of astonishment, Wooyoung chuckled, pulling away from you to grab your bicep, "Don't let this perceive us, it belongs to boss man, we just stay here." He told you, motioning to the ginger-haired male who was grabbing a duffel bag from the trunk of the sedan.

Your eyebrows scrunched together, wondering why he would lead a ring of criminals to rob places when he already seemed to have the money. Feeling your gaze on him, the man looked over, catching your eye with a smirk.

"Just get out of the fucking vehicle, woman," Yeosang grunted as he pushed Bohwa towards the door, nearly making her fall out of the open door.

"Y/n!" She exclaimed upon seeing you standing there and quickly got out of the car, grabbing your arm, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," You reassured her with a small, weary smile, and she squeezed your arm. Then her gaze was on the house, her jaw falling slack in astonishment.

"If you're done gawking, ladies, let's go." Wooyoung tugged on your arm when Hongjoong motioned him forward, and you stumbled slightly trying to walk. Bohwa was right behind you, her arm caught by Seonghwa's once more.

Stepping onto the porch, the two men stopped right in front of Hongjoong, who had just opened the door. He turned and looked at both you and Bohwa, an unreadable expression on his face, but you knew that he wasn't too pleased.

"Take her to the cellar," Hongjoong looked over at Seonghwa, pointing a lazy finger at Bohwa, and your stomach turned, a lump forming in your throat. Was he going to separate you again? Then just as you finished your thought, he spoke again, "and lock her up in the storage closet upstairs."

Your heart started to ring in your ears, and your palms felt sweaty. Bohwa tried to protest, but Seonghwa was far too strong, and he pulled her into the house. Tears brimmed in your eyes once more as you called after the dual-haired girl, thrashing in Wooyoung's grip. Seeing your panicked face, Hongjoong smirked sinisterly, reaching out and grabbing your chin, forcing your eyes onto his.

"Welcome to your new home, little bird." He spoke with a grin, voice dark as he patted your cheek before motioning to Wooyoung to take you inside.

"No! Let me go! Bohwa!" You screamed, hoping that by some miracle a neighbor would hear the commotion and come searching. Tears blurred your vision as Wooyoung all but dragged you upstairs.

"You're making this harder than it has to be, y/n," Wooyoung growled as he wrapped his arm around your waist, opting to carry you up the stairs since you kept digging your heels into the ground.

"Let. Me. Go." You grunted, thrashing around in his hold, but to no avail as the long-haired male carried you up the stairs with ease.

"No can do, babydoll." His eyes flickered down to your squirming form, a gleam of amusement flashing in his fox-like eyes.

Once he was upstairs, Wooyoung carried you to the storage closet, ignoring your pleas and cries. It wasn't until he opened the door that he set you back on your feet, but his hold on your waist was still firm, keeping you from running off. Looking inside the small room, you felt your heart start racing, your breathing become erratic, and you shook your head frantically.

"N-No, I'm sorry, please." You cried, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks at the thought of being locked in a small closet, childhood memories flickering in your mind.

"If you're a good girl, you'll be able to come out," Wooyoung cooed in your ear, his fingers tightening on your waist as you tried to turn. You nearly screamed when he shoved you inside, making you fall to your knees.

"No. Wooyoung, please. I can't." You cried, pushing yourself up to sit on your knees, crawling towards him. However, he just looked down at you with a smirk, and you started to wonder if he was the same person from the elevator.

"I'll be back soon, sweetheart," He told you, his tone condescending as he slammed the closet door shut in your face.

"NO!" You screamed when the tiny room became shrouded in darkness, sobs racking your body as you brought your bound hands up to bang on the sturdy wood. A flurry of pleas and cries fell from your lips as you wiggled the locked doorknob, praying that it would open.

You weren't sure how long you were screaming before your throat went raw and tears stained your cheeks once more. Blood caked your nails from you tearing them while clawing at the wooden door. However, the pain was the last thing on your mind as you slumped against the door in defeat, quiet, broken sobs leaving your parted lips.

"P-Please." You begged one last time before you started to feel your brain shut down, the terror encasing every inch. You tried to fight against the void that was trying to pull you under, but it was futile; your body was too weak, and it swallowed you whole.

The upstairs hallway finally fell quiet as a soft thud was heard from inside the small storage closet. Your worn-out body was lying motionless on the floor, and a few stray teardrops dripped from the tip of your nose onto the hardwood below you.

And even in your slumber, you were attacked with that same fear you felt when you were awake. You were trapped with no sight of ever getting out.

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

[proffessorlateralus]

╭⊰Yeosang’s Profile⊱╮

Warnings! This is a dead dove fic! Yandere, mafia topics! Killing, Yeosang is crazy in this, stalking, mentions of torture,

Come to be!

Yeosang was always called a strange kid and got picked on growing up. He didn’t think he was strange though. Not till they before they started picking on him at least. It was then that Yeosang’s behavior got “strange”. If everyone wanted him “strange” he could be strange. It got bad when he enrolled in college. He was an adult now but people never grew out of picking on him. He craved power- and in high school he got it, when he finally started gaining muscle and hit back, but now he was in college and things were different, Yeosang was….isolated.

He was at a desk in the classroom when the frog he was dissecting for forensics was slowly becoming one of his most hated lecture “buddies” his hands began to shake due to the wild path his imagination was taking him on. He became almost scared of himself. Scared for his lecture mate and soon his family, his girlfriend, his dog.

His isolation only became worse. Yeosang left college. Got his own house- alone, no pets and did online schooling to become a doctor. What caused him to change to medical training? He didn’t wanna know- or come to terms with it.

Later down the road Yunho found him on the dark web

Mafia!

Yeosang worked as a doctor along side Ateez apart- actually, something he’s never been able to say.

He often does stay back on missions enjoys torturing, ripping out teeth of their enemies, dwelling in the screams rather than the gunshots and the rush of missions. Now of course if Ateez needs all hands on deck Yeosang is more than qualified for such a thing but torturing is what he loves. A sadist by heart.

Yandere!

Loving for Yeosang is hard. His Yandere tendencies are even worse. He can’t love, he can only obsess- is what he tells himself anyways.

However the way Yeosang fights himself all day scared to imagine his lovers in a gruesome way, scared of what he could do to them, crying himself dry and kicking himself bloody for always being to scared of himself to the point he’s scared of his lovers makes him lose his mind. It’s enough to know he’s really capable of loving though (for them anyways) they are always good at reminding Yeosang he’s better than that and he can’t love let go. He has yet to trust himself on that.

With you though. He sees you. He knows you. He’s watched you and it’s under his skin. He feels like he’s apart of you. Like you’re his other half. It makes his skin crawl and makes him even crazier. Like all he’s been fighting for is for nothing. You are his breaking point. It makes him wanna see just how badly he can hurt you sometimes. All of his years that he’s yearned for something he didn’t know, something that’s been missing in his heart that he couldn’t place- couldn’t scratch. It was you, and it makes him wanna rip you to pieces for every little imperfection you have.

!Series Masterlist!

[wicked-disposition]

Why Do You Love ? — K.HJ

Pairing: Alpha Hongjoong x Omega reader

Synopsis: You had never ventured outside of your small town. Your mother had condemned you to omega only schools, wanting to shield you from the dangers of the world especially alphas. But if you were serious about becoming a nurse, you knew you'd have to learn to be around them at some point and going away to university was the first step.

Warnings: [DEAD DOVE] stockholm syndrome, Mc is very innocent & sheltered, kidnapping, non-con elements, power imbalance, non-con, HJ is possessive and cunning, rough sex, loss of virginity, dirty talk, restraints, dacryphilia, breeding, shibari, non-con drug use, blood, knotting, non-con filming, knife play, take a shot every time you read the word slick, extreme dub-con, non-con picture taking, breeding, non-con somno, pregnancy, pussy spanking, degradation, predator/prey dynamics, manipulation of pheromones, biting, marking.

Authors note: If you couldn’t tell already from the warnings, this story includes a lot of non-con, so if that or any of the other warnings make you uncomfortable, DO NOT. I REPEAT, DO NOT BOTHER WITH READING THIS STORY! If you choose to disregard these warnings and read the story anyway, only to leave a rude comment, you will be blocked. So don’t bother with commenting. Aside from that, I hope you all enjoy (:

PRESENT.

Red.

That’s all you can see before your eyes. Dots of red in the darkness of the room. Speckles of them cloud your vision. At first, you used to only see one of them. One tiny dot. You would keep your eyes trained on it in order to ground yourself. Making yourself calm down by focusing on the only spot of color in the pitch black room. It flickered on and off every few seconds. You would time it along with your blinking. A good few weeks passed before you realized what that red symbolized.

A camera. Installed right in the corner of the ceiling. What you started to find a small sliver of familiarity in, now became something you felt threatened by. That red dot haunted your every nightmare, making you scared of every one of your own moves, afraid of who might be watching. Why would they be watching? But most importantly—why wouldn’t they help?

You’ve been too afraid to look back at that red dot for a long time now. Ever since you realized what it symbolized, you’ve felt too ashamed of what the lens had witnessed. Your body, naked and displayed for viewing; your cries, loud and desperate, mostly pleading for help, but sometimes—to your utter shame—begging for pleasure as well. You don't like knowing that you’re being recorded. In the beginning it made you feel hopeful. Hopeful that someone will maybe see and come rescue you. But the more time that passed, the more your hope turned into helplessness. No one was coming for you. You were to spend the rest of your days here. Or, until the one who held you decided he had had enough of you.

But by the way things were going, that seemed like a day you would never get to see. The room you started to find familiarity in was filled with everything that was sure to muddle your brain. Pheromones; full of dominance, want and need. Power; guaranteed to make you submit, roll over and present. Sweet amber;that made your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out in pure desire.

Alpha.

An alpha that seemed more than adamant on taking everything from you until he left you with absolutely nothing. Your pride, your self control, your innocence. All of it had been stripped away from you the moment you set foot inside of this room. Or better said, the moment you got strapped to the bed in the center of the room. You don't know much about what’s happening or where you are, but if there is one thing you knew for certain, it was that the alpha that took you would always take care of you. That’s what he always says at least.

“Don’t fret, little omega. You’re safe right here with me.”

At first, the comments would make every inch of your skin bristle. How could you possibly be safe at the hands of someone so cruel? Someone who tortures and takes whatever he wants from you; who makes you cry and sob and beg to be let go of. But over time, you learned to find comfort in the same touch that tainted you. The hand that hit you would always caress you gently when it was all over. The mouth that bit you and spit cruel words would kiss your sore body from head to toe almost as if those lips had healing powers. And perhaps, in the sick and twisted reality of your mind, they did.

The knife that was held against your neck, as you were forced to arch your body until it faced the tiny red dot in the corner of the room, started to feel dull against your skin when small praises were whispered in your ear along with it.

“Such a good puppy. The prettiest omega. Sitting so still for me. I really taught you well.”

And that is one thing he did. Taught you how to behave. Showing you all the ways of surviving in this small little room, abiding by his rules and orders. All you needed to do was be good; that’s it. Just be the best omega anyone could possibly dream of—an obedient little thing, with big eyes only for your alpha, always at his beck and call with your arms and legs wide open, and holes on display at all times. Your alpha didn’t ask too much of you. And if that meant you would get to survive and evade your punishments as much as possible, well, that’s something you were willing to do.

As someone who’s stayed as far away from alphas as you could all your life, the sheer power and control that had taken over your body was overwhelming for you. You knew how small and meek of an omega you were in comparison;you could never fight against the big strong alpha holding you captive. You were more than aware of how easy it would be for him to put you in your place with a simple tilt of his head and a hint of a growl. But that still didn’t stop you from trying to fight back. At least in the beginning.

You would scream, cry and beg to be let go of until your throat closed up and your voice turned raspy. Your face used to be constantly sticky with tears and your head would always be pounding from all your crying. You would over exhaust yourself to the point of passing out, which is usually when the alpha would swoop in and you would find the last remainder of power in you to fight back. But your nails were too blunt to scratch him, your hands were too weak to push him away, and your teeth were not sharp enough to bite him until they could break skin. You were rendered completely helpless with one single pinch to your scent gland on the side of your neck and a snarled “Keep still”. That’s all it took.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re really pushing my hand, sweetheart.”

How could you ever escape the hell you had been so bluntly thrust into?

PAST.

All omega schools were very common. Your mother made sure to keep you as sheltered from alphas as she possibly could since you were born. Her daughter was too innocent, too pure, to be anywhere near the grabby hands of selfish alphas that lurked around for cute little omegas like you.

College, on the other hand, was a totally different story. Although you grew up surrounded by omegas only, if you wanted to study to become a nurse, you couldn’t avoid alphas anymore. Your mother was extremely upset when she found out, but she couldn’t keep you at home under her care forever. You wanted to be on your own. So, reluctantly, she let you leave to go study in the big city.

Which is where you finally became aware of everything your mother had kept you away from all of your life. Alphas. So many of them. Everywhere. Surrounding you from all ends, with pointed stares and strong scents, that filled your nostrils and traveled all the way through your lungs, intoxicating you. On your first day of college, you got so overwhelmed that you hid and locked yourself in a bathroom stall, where you cried your little heart out throughout the entirety of the first class you were supposed to be attending.

That’s also where you made your first friend. Jung Wooyoung. A cheerful and bubbly omega that had heard your sniffles and smelled your distress from outside the bathroom stall, and somehow coaxed you into coming out of there after offering his hand through the gap underneath the door, which you held for a long twenty minutes before daring to come out. And ever since that day, Wooyoung had kept you safe at his side at all times, never leaving you alone around any alphas for even just a second.

They were still everywhere around you though. Looking at you as if they wanted to eat you whole. Chests puffing out whenever you would pass them by, growling at each other, almost as if it was a competition of who could sway you first. But you weren't interested in any of them. You just wanted to focus on studying and keeping to your small group of friends.

In your first week, Wooyung introduced you to all of his friends that had welcomed you in immediately. You were a small group, consisting of two other omegas, Jihyo and Yeosang, and a beta named Jongho, but you were more than happy to have friends you could feel safe around.

You were more than content with how things were going so far into your first semester. Your mother, although still worried, became slightly more relieved whenever you would call and tell her that things were going well. Your anxiety only started to pick up again when your small group suddenly expanded with a new addition.

An alpha that Wooyoung met in his biology lab.

“I know how you feel about alphas, but I promise you, he’s the nicest person ever! You know I would never bring anyone around you unless I was certain they were completely harmless.”

Your number one flaw has always been being too trusting.

So, reluctantly, you agreed to meet him. You waited with big eyes and parted lips, hands trembling where they clutched underneath the table between your thighs, nose twitching as you sniffed the air around. And that’s when you felt it.

Sweet amber. So potent that you felt your head float somewhere off your shoulders and you had to hold your breath in order to ground yourself. And when you were finally able to get past the sudden haziness, your eyes met a pair of dark brown ones, staring pointedly at you. Like a prey being hunted. That’s when the alpha smiled, and you felt all the air leave your lungs.

“This is Hongjoong!”

PRESENT.

Your skin had grown accustomed to handling most things over the past few months, but rope was still something that felt too harsh for you. It’s hard and bristled and it turnt your skin red in most places if you moved around too much—which more often than not, you did. But it doesn’t take more than a stinging slap to your inner thigh to get you to stop huffing and squirming.

“Be good.”

Being good is something you have learned to master over time. And of course you had. It’s so easy for you to do as you’re told—you allowed yourself to be conditioned into the most perfect little omega. Obedient to your alpha’s every single order.

“Sit like this. Move your arm like that. Stop squirming so we can finish quicker. Very good. Give alpha a kiss.”

Tactile loops of long rope hold you in place, completely unable to move. At first, the feeling of helplessness would terrify you, but over time, you've learned to curiously admire the ways in which you’d get tied up. You could not move an inch even if you tried to, but that didn’t mean the knots were constricting. They felt oddly delicate actually.

This seemed to be the alpha’s favorite way of tying you. With your hands in front of you, a string of rope looped around your torso and over your arms, and your wrists held together tightly between your legs. You felt the strain of the position in your muscles when the alpha would make you arch your back so that your calves could touch the backs of your thighs, tying the two parts of your legs together. Your toes wiggled impatiently in the air, waiting for the next move. You were on complete display like this, with your front pressed into the mattress and your ass raised high in the air.

“Beautiful.” The alpha murmurs from behind you, running the palm of his hand over the swell of your ass, giving it a light squeeze, which made the fat jiggle. “Sit just like that for me.”

You turn your head to the side, cheek squished into the sheets, lips pouted outwards beautifully. It’s a little hard for you to breathe, but you don't make a single sound. You knew that if you behaved well this would be over quickly. You just had to sit pretty and be patient until the alpha was done doing whatever he wanted.

Today it looks to be pictures. You can see from the corner of your eye the flash of the camera going off as a picture is taken from above, most likely capturing the full display of your body. You shut your eyes and exhale shakily when a warm palm presses down on your spine, making your body arch even more, something that is sure to leave you feeling sore for the next couple of hours.

Pictures is something you can deal with easily. It’s what you dread the least. You just had to sit still for a few minutes and then you usually got to be on your own for the rest of the day. If you were exceptionally well behaved, you’d also be awarded candy, which is something you’ve been striving really hard for lately. The alpha gives you green apple lollipops, which are your favorite. They remind you of home, where you wish you could be instead. But the lollipops will do for now.

You think you’re doing well. Only whining once when your arms start to go a little numb, but you’re quickly shushed and offered a light nip to your left ass cheek, which promptly quiets you down. You’ve thought about asking what this was for before. Why are pictures being taken of your body? Does the alpha look at them afterwards? Are they only for him? Does he show them to other people? Could others know about you and where you are? 

But the thought of asking is gone as soon as it comes, because you know you most likely won’t get an answer. The alpha is not very talkative, unless it’s to tell you what to do, to scold you for misbehaving, or to praise you for being good. You’d much rather prefer the latter. The only other time in which he seems to like talking, is when he’s saying cruel words that make your cheeks burn up in an instant. Things such as—

“Look at that pretty little pussy.”

You squeal, face pressing into the mattress, which muffles your sounds as rough fingers spread your ass cheeks apart, exposing both of your holes. You know you have no chance of resisting when the room starts to get pumped full of pheromones that make you submit in an instant, sweet amber travels through your lungs, making your tummy quiver and causes a sad dollop of wetness to gush right out of your cunt. 

You whimper pathetically.

“Eager little omega. In need of a treat, aren’t you?”

You try to shake your head, but the position won’t allow you to. Your thighs can’t squeeze together either, even though you squirm to do so. The ropes hold you in place, firmly squeezing where they’re supposed to, rendering you immobile. You can do nothing but exhale shakily as you try not to focus on the fingers parting your folds, collecting the slick that had dribbled out.

“Alpha’s got you.”

When two fingers slide inside of you with ease, all you can think about is that this is not the kind of treat you had been looking forward to. You were craving a lollipop, not fingers shoved up your cunt, but that’s not really something you can complain about. So, you take it like a good girl, gushing slick until it runs warmly down the inside of your thighs, body spasming as the alpha fingers you with fervor. You keen high in your throat, brain muddled completely by the alpha’s scent, breathing it in from where it’s imprinted into the sheets, resulting in you cumming in no time with a loud cry as you splatter slick all over the other’s wrist and down onto the bed.

You breathe harshly as you slowly start to come down from your high, body tingling as hands that are still slippery with your slick start to untie the rope from around your body, letting your limbs free. You whine in distress when you’re rolled over onto your back, a quiet shush is exhaled right on top of your lips before you're being kissed softly, instantly calming down. You let yourself melt into strong arms that skillfully untie your wrists, your head falls back against a broad chest as your thighs get massaged by the alpha’s big hands, kneading the flesh with his fingers and making you exhale blissfully.

“Such a good puppy. You take everything I give you so well.” The words are whispered into your ear and your eyes fall shut, letting the deep voice that makes the alpha’s chest vibrate quell your restlessness.

Your legs still feel wet and sticky with slick, but you know that’s something the alpha will take care of. He always takes care of you. You never have to worry about anything. You think that’s nice. Not having to worry feels nice. If only worrying about how you were going to get away wasn’t pressing so heavily on your thoughts…

Breathing in the powerful scent of amber, your head lolls back onto the alpha’s shoulder, your body sagging completely against him. With a content growl vibrating against your back and a small nip to your scent gland, you are instantly put to sleep.

PAST.

Hongjoong is not like any other alpha you've ever met. Of course, he still has the intensity of an alpha that is sure to bring a tremor to your knees, but it’s by far more subdued.

Hongjoong is nice. He doesn’t hold any malice behind his eyes. He smiles wide and toothy—like a ray of sunshine. His voice is soft, like a warm blanket on a chilly day. He talks about writing and his dog from back home and he calls his mom almost every day during lunch time. His scent is soft for an alpha, yet still intoxicating. 

You want to bathe in it.

Hongjoong is a good person. He’s a good friend. A good alpha. You look at him with stars in your eyes. 

And Hongjoong knows it.

It’s way too painfully obvious for him not to. 

From the way you try to avoid his gaze and the way you squeak whenever you do meet it, to the way in which your scent sweetens whenever Hongjoong is around, honeyed cherry blossom sickeningly potent, to the point in which it attracts looks. Hongjoong has to know. He has to know that you’re doing exactly what your mother had warned you not to do all your life.

Swooning for the very first alpha you ever laid eyes on. Getting lost in his scent and in his voice, replaying the sound of his laughter over and over again in your head when you’re all alone in your dorm, allowing your walls to break down for an alpha that hasn’t done as much as show you any intentions.

Hongjoong doesn’t look at you any differently than he looks at Wooyoung, or Yeosang, or even Jihyo. He’s polite in every sense of the word, and you think that that’s what makes even more hearts float around your head whenever he looks at you. It’s the fact that he’s everything an alpha shouldn’t be—and everything you have ever wanted.

Hongjoong is a reliable kind of alpha.

Independent and level headed. He’s the only one out of your friend group who lives off campus in his own apartment, unlike the rest of you that stay in dorms. He has good grades, yet never looks as if he struggles to achieve them. He’s always well put together, unlike you who has deep dark undereye circles and disheveled hair after nights of studying continuously for upcoming exams.

Hongjoong wears expensive clothes and eats healthy organic food that you know must cost a fortune. You haven't felt the taste of strawberries in months, even though they’re your favorite, because you simply cannot afford them. Hongjoong looks like he could provide everything a mate would ever need. You find yourself envious of the omega that will get to call him their alpha.

But Hongjoong has never shown interest in anyone so far; at least not in front of you. He never talks about any omegas, even though there are multiple that ogle at him every time he passes by. It’s easy to see why they would all want him. Hongjoong has eyes only for his friends though. He would much rather spend his evenings with you all in the library than go out and party to possibly take someone home. And you, well…you think that’s nice.

You enjoy having Hongjoong sit across from you at your study table much more than you’d ever care to admit. You like the soft heady scent of amber tickling your nose when you’re typing away at your laptop, trying to focus on your notes rather than on the person sitting in front of you. 

But it’s hard.

It’s especially hard when you don't hear the sound of typing anymore and are rendered to sitting in tense silence. Wooyoung had left for the bathroom, so inevitably, leaving just you and Hongjoong. When you look up from behind your screen, you have to stop yourself from nearly choking on your lollipop at the sight of a dark pair of eyes focused solely on you.

You can’t help but think that Hongjoong has never looked at you like that. He’s never so blatantly allowed himself to stare you down, making you shrink into yourself that you try to make yourself as small as possible in your chair. You also take notice of another thing—this is the first time you’ve ever been alone with Hongjoong. There’s always been at least one other person with you, up until now. You think it might be because your friends were still wary about leaving you near an alpha all by yourself. They didn’t want you to freak out. But Hongjoong has been your friend for a while now. Hongjoong is a good alpha. Hongjoong can be trusted.

Hongjoong looks at you as if he wants to eat you.

“What flavor is that?”

It takes you a good few seconds and a couple long blinks before you realize that the quiet words are directed at you. It also takes you a while to realize what he means. Your lollipop. You pull the stick out of your mouth and try your hardest not to cough, swallowing thickly instead.

“Green apple.” You whisper brokenly, lips pursing together into a thin line.

You fidget in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs, but no matter what you do, the intense gaze settled upon you still makes you feel restless. It’s not until the soft scent that had been settled into the air around you suddenly spikes up, that your mouth drops open. You look up with slightly widened eyes, just like a deer caught in headlights. It’s strong, warm, musky, rich—it’s intoxicating. Your mouth waters.

“Is that your favorite?” You don't know how, but Hongjoong’s voice sounds deeper than ever before. It’s like a rumble, traveling through your ears. You think that if you were standing right now, you would definitely be getting weak in the knees.

“I–I think so.” You stutter out, trying your hardest to get yourself in check.

Don’t do it. Don’t make a sound. Don’t say anything.

It’s inevitable. The smallest of whimpers gets caught in the back of your throat, coming out as a measly squeak. You can feel yourself getting light headed. It’s so sudden and it’s so much, too much for you to handle. Why does Hongjoong smell like that, why is it so powerful, why is it making your legs squeeze together?

“Cute.”

The door to the library opens. And suddenly, the intensity is gone. You feel like you had been floating somewhere up above the clouds and you suddenly slumped back into your chair as if you had been dropped. You blink the haziness away, startling when Wooyoung plops back down next to you. The omega sniffs the air around and pulls a face.

“What the—” he pinches his nose, looking up at Hongjoong. “Are you close to a rut or something? It stinks in here.”

Hongjoong seems to finally peel his eyes up off of you. As if nothing had ever happened, he blinks and smiles sheepishly up at Wooyoung. His whole demeanor changes. A bashful laugh.

“I think so. Sorry.” He scratches the back of his head.

You look down at where you were still tightly gripping onto the stick of your lollipop. You urge yourself to relax and breathe as shallowly as possible. The earthy tones still prickle your nose with each inhale.

“Be careful, Hyung, jeez.” Wooyoung shakes his head and pulls a pencil out of his case, going right back to writing in his notebook.

You will yourself to look up once more. Leaning as far back in your chair as you possibly can when you meet Hongjong's gaze. A deep crimson red gets blinked away as soon as it comes. It leaves you feeling breathless.

“Yeah. I will be, don’t worry.”

PRESENT.

Sleeping is one of the only things you look forward to. Because when you sleep, you get to dream. And in your dreams, it’s just you. No one else. No alpha trying to lay their claim on you, no rules you need to abide by—only you. And you try to escape to that place as often as you can; or better said, as you’re allowed to.

You would nap all day long if you could. Your bed was comfortable, blankets warm and soft. You had more than enough pillows to surround your whole body with, with sheets that were purposefully scented for you to bury your nose into, against your better judgment. The scent that would bring a tremor to your knees and make your blood run cold was the same one you had to breathe in with each inhale, and allow it to muddle your every thought. 

Everything you do was controlled by that scent. 

The musky tone of amber that was always guaranteed to have you on your hands and knees, with your head lolling to the side and putting a strain in your neck as your body unintentionally struggled to present. Just the smallest spike of pheromones was enough to make you everything you never wanted to be—an omega controlled by the hands of an alpha you didn’t wish to belong to.

So, naturally, even in your sleep, you couldn’t escape the power that the scent possessed over you. It was everywhere around you—dictating your every move, controlling your every thought. 

In your dreams, you preen at the feeling of being engulfed by sweet amber. It makes you sigh contentedly, a flimsy whine getting caught in the back of your throat from the way it makes you feel. Like an overwhelmed teenager after their first scenting—completely smitten. You roll around in it, coating your own scent glands with it, whimpering in need at the way it engulfs your entire being.

The dreams are inevitable and you have no way of stopping them. Not when the scent is so powerful. Not when heady pheromones tickle your nose, making you twitch in your sleep. And especially not when the alpha whose scent messes with your head is the one disrupting your slumber as well.

If you were aware enough, you would’ve been mortified by the thought of your captor barging into your dreams out of all places. But you’re not. You let yourself be completely at his mercy once again; controlled entirely by the pheromones dictating your every move, kisses are lathered all across your jaw and neck, and the hands holding your body down, gently caress over the points that were sure to make you keen. 

You sigh and roll over into the arms that wrap tightly around you, soft whispers tickle your ears, and make you whimper out loud.

“Prettiest omega. You make your alpha so, so happy.”

“Gonna take such good care of you. Keep you pupped and bred so well.”

Under any other circumstance, you would cry and shake your head at the thought of birthing pups for the alpha holding you. But this is your dream. A dream in which you’re allowed to do as you wish; to nod your head and whine through the kisses being sealed into your skin. To think about your pussy being stretched around the knot that is sure to breed you good, and the swell that will be put in your stomach when you’re pumped full of cum. It’s your dream and you don't have to think rationally for once.

You can feel the stickiness, warm and wet, trailing down your inner thighs and soaking your entire backside. You can feel it gushing out of you like a faucet, your little pussy so warm and slippery, the glide of fingers through your folds produces nearly no friction, just a loud wet squelch that is sure to make your cheeks warm up. You allow yourself to be rolled over onto your front and have your legs spread, rough hands settle over both of your ass cheeks, parting them to reveal your sopping cunt. 

You think you’re still dreaming when you feel your hole being prodded. The head of the alpha’s cock catches against your entrance and teases you until you’re soaking his entire length with even more of your juices. Your honeyed scent engulfs the air around you, almost overpowering the earthy amber. You feel your head lolling around, too heavy for your own shoulders. You sigh from between the pillows your nose is pressed into. 

It makes your thighs quiver, and your pussy clench as he slowly opens you up. You can’t do more than whimper throughout content sighs, small noises leaving the back of your throat as strong hands hold your hips down, fingertips digging into your skin.

“Mine.”

The first powerful thrust is what breaks the fog that clouded your vision apart. His cock reaches deep into your tummy, breaching your cervix and making your stomach bulge. You choke around a wet gasp, weak hands trying to grasp at anything they can reach, but come up empty. Your neck strains when you try to lift your head, but a hissed snarl rumbling right by your ear is enough to have your cheek smashing right back into the pillows, a scared little mewl escaping through your lips.

Your hands are shaking. Your neck is exposed, struggling to present. You feel your entire bottom half completely soaked, a small puddle having formed underneath you, most likely seeping all the way through the mattress. Your eyes feel heavy in your head, struggling to blink them open. You feel yourself being held down, a hand tightly gripping your hip while the other pushes on the small of your back to make you arch beautifully. 

Through a struggled gasp, your eyes snap wide open and realization dawns on you. 

You’re not dreaming anymore.

You let out a moan as you feel yourself being plowed into the mattress, hands weakly scrambling to grasp for purchase. You twist the tousled sheets between your fingers, eyes watering up in an instant. You should scream and try to fight back. Beg to be let go of, to make this stop. You should cry out for mercy. 

Your eyes roll back instead.

“Alpha!” 

Your weak whimper is met with a resonating growl, your weepy little pussy gets split open on the girthy cock that has started ceaselessly thrusting into you. The nip at the back of your neck is enough to have you dripping all around the alpha’s cock, the warning of the claim to come makes you preen as he shoves your face into the pillows as you try to muffle a cry. It’s so good; opening you up so well, reaching so deep inside that you think your guts might be getting rearranged. You gurgle around your own spit when you feel your stomach distending, tummy bulging with every thrust. You wish you could reach down to feel it, but your wrists are grasped by forceful hands and held down behind your back. 

“That’s right, scream for your alpha.” You positively sob when a hand slams down by your head, startling you. The alpha only leans in closer so he can grunt his crude words right into your ear. “You like this, don’t you? Like how good your alpha fucks you?” He’s not your alpha. You don't want someone like him to be your alpha. 

You should open your mouth to tell him that but what comes out is a moan instead. 

“Perfect little omega, made to take my knot.” 

“Puh–please!” You squeal, biting down on your bottom lip until you draw blood when you feel the cock inside of you grow even bigger than before.

“Shh,” A gentle nip to the lobe of your ear and a kiss to your temple is enough to have you cease squirming, “it’s okay, sweetheart. Your alpha’s got you.” 

You feel your walls spasming, squeezing tightly around the alpha’s cock as your neck gets thoroughly scented through your orgasm. Sweet amber clouds your every sense as you get fucked so good that it starts to hurt, the promising swell of a knot makes you shed little tears of need. You don't want to be knotted, but your omega never seems to agree with you. It has a mind of its own as it makes you submit, opening your legs even wider and lolling your head to the side even further as you beg for a claim as if you were lusted by heat.

But you’re not in heat. You’ve never even had a heat before. You've never gotten to know what the true desire of a claim during heat feels like. The alpha is not in rut either. You’re just in denial of your true needs. And your need right now is to get knotted and pumped so full of cum that your tummy is sure to swell from it.

The alpha is always there to fulfill each and every one of your wishes.

“That’s right. So good, so perfect.” Your throat feels thick with a purr that you struggle to hold back. “Pretty omega. Gonna make my rut come early.”

Your struggles are rendered futile as you scream when your pussy gets completely filled up, knot plopping right inside and locking you both together, long and warm spurts of cum instantly shoot out. You hiccup through the loud purr you’d been trying to contain, letting it all out at once. Your omega feels content after being fucked and pumped full of so much cum.

“Mine, mine, mine.” The alpha growls, burying his face in the side of your neck, licking and sucking in deep purplish bruises right over your scent gland, making you throb around his knot. Your teeth grit together weakly through another forced orgasm. The feeling of being so full to the brim becomes too much. “My omega. All mine.”

You whimper pitifully as you slump into the arms holding you tightly, almost as if you would crumble if the alpha were to let go. You cry out weakly when your body gets jostled around, cum swishing warmly in your tummy as the alpha turns you both onto your sides. Your hole feels puffy against the tug of his knot. 

“Perfect. So perfect. Always do so well for me.” Tiny praises get whispered into your ear as your eyes start to roll to the back of your head, gentle bites and kisses are scattered across your neck and shoulder.

You feel your chest suddenly flood with warmth. Before you get to realize what that feeling could mean, your eyes struggle with a few last blinks before completely falling shut. The last thing you see is the tiny red dot in the corner of the room, flickering on and off and haunting the dreams you fall right back into.

PAST.

You didn’t mean to do it. At least not like you had. You definitely could have worded it better. You know how much an omega’s rejection to a alpha can sting. You spend days on end beating yourself up over it. You’re still trying so hard to get used to being near an alpha and learning how to act properly that you reacted on instinct.

It had been cold. The threat of a storm was quickly approaching campus when your last class ended. You were quick on your feet, thinking that maybe if you ran, you could get back to your dorm in time before the rain started. That’s when Hongjoong caught up with you, stopping you by the exit with a light tap on the shoulder that made you turn around sharply.

An inhale of sweet amber was enough to calm you down, before your brain went into a complete meltdown at the display of pearly white teeth as Hongjoong smiled at you.

“Hey, looks like it’s gonna storm pretty bad. Can I walk you to your dorm? Just to make sure you get there safely.”

Warm. Everything felt warm. Hongjoong’s smile, his scent, the lingering feeling of his touch, your cheeks. Way too warm. You felt as if you were going to explode. You looked around, but everyone was rushing past you to evade the oncoming storm, not sparing the two of you so much as a glance. Hongjoong waited. Patient. Way too patient. His eyes did not leave your face. You didn’t know what to say. So you just—

“N-No, thank you!” 

And just like that, you bolted.

You didn’t stop to look back once. You didn't get to see the smile being wiped off of Hongjoong’s face. You didn't get to feel his scent souring from the sting of an outright rejection. You ran and ran through campus until you reached your dorm; your clothes were completely soaked by the time you made it. And then, you face planted onto your bed and just…screamed.

You avoided Hongjoong for almost a whole week after that. You’d duck behind every wall or trashcan you could whenever you saw him passing through the hallways. The rational side of you knew the one that would have to bear the embarrassment of that whole incident was Hongjoong, but you still felt mortified. The event replayed over and over in your head. You rejected the simple offer of a walk home from the alpha you had been blatantly ogling for the past couple months. How humiliating.

You thought about a way to fix things. Constantly wracking your brain for ideas about how you should apologize, but you came up empty-handed. You were not brave enough to bring it up with the alpha. But it seemed like you wouldn’t have to after all.

After your last lecture of the day, you headed over to the library as usual. Going to the same desk you always sat at, you were taken aback to see that it wasn’t empty. Maybe someone had gotten there before you. Disappointed, you go to turn on your heel and move somewhere else, until you do a double take. Walking closer, you clutched your hands to your chest as you leaned over the desk to look at what sat on top of it.

A note. And next to it, a lollipop. 

Touching it with tentative fingers, you pick up the piece of paper to read the short sentence written on it.

Anatomy quiz on Tuesday, study with me?

And right underneath it, two check boxes. Your head whips up, instantly looking around until you spot him. Hidden behind a bookshelf, with just his head peeking out and a small smile on his lips. Hongjoong. You inwardly squeal.

Placing your backpack on the table, you unzip it to retrieve a pen. Your hand is a little shaky, but a smile pulls at the corners of your lips when you check the ‘YES’ box with no hesitation. Sitting down, you slide the note over onto the other side of the desk. Clearing your throat, you focus on unwrapping your lollipop, nervously picking up the sound of approaching footsteps.

You plop the candy into your mouth when the legs of the chair in front of you scrape the floor, a small content sound leaves you. Green apple. He remembered. Looking up, you feel your mouth water around the lollipop. Hongjoong smiles sheepishly at you.

“Hi.”

You like the sound of his voice. You feel your heart beat a little faster than before at the hushed word. Despite your nervousness, you smile. Hesitantly, you wave. And Hongjoong, well—Hongjoong grins wider than you have ever seen him do before.

Later, when your lollipop has long since melted and you’re left with nothing but the stick to chew on, you retrieve one of your own post it notes, hiding it behind your hand as you wrote a short sentence on it, you nervously look anywhere else but at Hongjoong as you pass it to him.

Walk me home?

You think you hear the alpha inhale sharply. You’re honestly prepared to be met with the same rejection you had offered a week prior. His eyes burn holes into the note sitting between you. And then, Hongjoong reaches for his pen.

Where you expected him to make a small check mark, he instead draws a heart in the box that marks yes. You absolutely melt into a puddle.

PRESENT.

You often get left alone during the day. Your alpha—a title you have surrendered to addressing the other with—is gone for a better half of the day. Which is good, because you get to nap a lot. You like naps and the silence of your room during those times, so you never complained once until now. The alpha would come in during the early hours of the morning to wake you up—either with a soft caress to your cheek or a knot shoved deep inside your cunt, depending on how he felt. Which always ended with him feeding you breakfast by his own hands, before leaving you to tend to yourself for the rest of the day.

Whenever he comes back home, you wait nervously. The other is always unpredictable. You never know what you’re going to get from him. You don’t know if you’re going to be greeted with a gentle kiss or a slap to the face. You don’t know if you’d be called “sweetheart” or a “fucking slut” until you get to see what mood your captor is in. It’s fair to say that you’d much rather prefer the former.

You've never been the type to enjoy harshness, which in a way explains itself, since you’re so soft to begin with. Always having been described as a delicate and sensitive omega. Words such as “filthy whore” and “useless cockslut” simply do not define you. That doesn’t mean you’re sheltered from the wrath of it though.

So, more often than not, you only get to find out what it’ll be when the alpha unlocks the door after having been gone all day. Or, in other rare instances, he’d do something else. Something like slipping you a note through the crack underneath the door.

After all the time you spent locked in here—maybe a month? You honestly can’t recall anymore—you’ve become extremely sensitive to even the slightest of sounds. Your ears pick up any creak in the floor and every gust of wind traveling through the house. It’s easy for you to hear the sound of footsteps approaching your door and stopping right in front of it. You wait with your heart stuck in your throat for it to open, but it doesn’t. Instead, there’s some quiet shuffling, and then something catches your eye.

You quickly scramble to your feet, nearly toppling off the bed when you see the white piece of paper slipping through the crack of the door and into the room. You know the alpha doesn’t like waiting. And you're not really keen on testing your luck. So, with trembling knees, you lower to the ground, and with shaky fingers, you pick up the piece of paper.

One question. Two check boxes. Your eyes instantly well up with tears.

Blue or pink?

You don't know what the options mean. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into by choosing one or the other, but you know you have to take your pick fast. With a sniffle, you get up to go over to your small desk in the corner of the room, picking up one of the crayons you’ve been allowed to have for your coloring book, and marking a wobbly X on the paper.

You’re feeling pink today. You don’t know what that option will bring, but you know you’re bound to find out soon enough.

Slipping the note back through the crack is probably the most nerve-wracking thing you’ve done in a while. You scurry back to your bed and clutch a pillow tight to your chest. And then, you wait.

Waiting is probably the worst part, because you don't know what you’re waiting for, nor what the outcome will be. You bite the skin around your nails and rock back and forth slowly, rooted in your spot until the steps returned, and with the twist of a key in the lock, your door swings open.

You stare wide eyed at the alpha leaning against the door frame. He gives you a tentative one over before a wave of pheromones tumble through the room, reaching you and instantly easing your anxiety. It’s pathetic how blatantly easy it is for him to hold you under his thumb. How easy it is to control you with a mere whiff of earthy musk.

“Hi, little one.” You sink into your blankets.

You don’t make a sound as the door gets shut and the alpha makes his way across the room towards you. You watch warily as you’re approached, curiously eyeing the alpha’s hands that are held behind his back. You can’t help but feel like that can’t be a good sign.

“Missed me?” The slight tilt to the alpha’s head has you squirming in your spot, bringing your pillow even tighter to your chest until your nose buries into it. “Of course you did.”

You don't want to say that you missed him. You most certainly didn’t miss the feeling of nervousness that thrummed throughout your body anytime he was near. But, perhaps, a small and distant part of you did miss the feeling of someone else being inside the house as well. You don't dare voice that thought.

“Come here.” He beckons with a small grin, the alpha’s cheery mood makes you extremely skeptical. “Y/N,” He doesn’t raise his voice; he almost never does, but the change in tone is evident, “I said come here.”

You scramble up to your knees in an instant, crawling across the bed until you reached the foot of it, looking up at the alpha with wide eyes, waiting. That seems to please him as he takes a hand from behind his back and uses it to caress the side of your face, knuckles stroking over your cheekbone tenderly.

“Very good.”

You whimper weakly when your chin gets tilted, already knowing what’s coming before it even happens. You close your eyes and exhale shakily when a nose is pressed to your neck, rubbing softly into your skin, making you wince from having your bruises prodded. They run all the way from your neck, up to your jaw, and down across your breasts, the deepest one always right over your scent gland, red and purple with hints of green in between. You never got to see yourself in a mirror, so you don't know the true extent of their severity, but you sometimes catch small glimpses of yourself in the window at night. The images are enough to give you nightmares.

You shudder through the first touch of a wet tongue over your skin, head rolling to the side to expose more of your neck, which the alpha shows appreciation for with a deep hum. You feel humiliation course hotly through your body, but your omega preens. You feel yourself tremble at the hint of a bite over the underside of your jaw.

“I got you something nice.” The alpha says next to your ear. “Close your eyes.”

You’re hesitant to do so. Every time you close your eyes, you’re scared that it’ll be the last time you’ll get to do so. A raised brow in your direction is enough to make you do as you’re told, eyes falling shut as a short exhale escapes through your lips.

“Arms up.” You don’t even get to lift your arms yourself before they’re being held up by warm hands, guiding them above your head.

You feel sweat break out over your forehead and gasp when you feel a piece of material being dragged over your arms and down your body. Clothes. You haven’t had any clothes on your body the whole time you’ve been here. You’ve slowly started growing used to being naked all the time. Your heart leaps all the way out of your chest at the feeling of finally being covered by something other than your blankets or another body on top of yours.

Your hair stands up as you slip your head through the collar of what you think is a shirt at first, until it falls down the rest of your body, and you realize it’s way too long for it to be just a shirt. When you're allowed to lower your arms and given the okay for opening your eyes again, you instantly look down.

A dress. It stops at the tops of your thighs, baby pink with white frills at the bottom, a line of bows starting from your waistline all the way up to your cleavage. When you notice the loose way it hangs around your chest, your boobs almost entirely spilling out, you realize it’s supposed to be tied in the back like a corset. You look up just as the alpha goes to sit behind you on the bed, his calloused fingers trailing down your spine, make you shiver.

You straighten your back when you feel the loops of string being tightened, breathing a little heavier as you stare out into space, the top half of the dress is secured tightly around your chest by the alpha’s skilled hands. So that’s what the pink was for. You still don't understand the purpose of the dress since it’s most likely going to be ripped off of you soon enough, but you’re not going to ask any questions.

“Come on,” the last part of the dress is tied into a neat bow before a kiss is pressed to the back of your neck, “up.”

Reluctantly, you allow yourself to be pulled up and off the bed, your legs wobble a little as you stand in front of the alpha. Looking down, you can’t take your eyes off of the way the bottom of the dress floats around you with every move you make. The alpha sits down on the bed, leaning back on his hands as he stares you up and down. 

It makes you nervous.

“Give me a twirl, pretty.” You feel your cheeks instantly flush, reaching up to press your palms over them to try and soothe the burning skin.

You bashfully spin around, flowy dress twirling along with you, the ruffles at the bottom tickling the tops of your thighs. Your hands are still pressed to your cheeks when you’ve completed the full turn, looking back at the alpha whose eyes seem to have remained unblinking, bottom lip tucked between his front teeth. A small curse escapes his mouth.

“Look at you.” His chest puffs out, almost as if he takes pride in the way you look right now, all because of his doing. “Fucking beautiful. A downright doll.”

The hands that were previously resting on your cheeks move to cover your eyes, too overwhelmed by the sudden compliments. Your knees lock together from where you stand, and an embarrassed whine escapes you. You’re not used to being praised this much. At least not unless you’re being pounded into the mattress at the same time.

“Come on, now.” A tug on the bottom of your dress is enough to pull you closer, stepping carefully until you’re standing between the alpha’s parted legs, peeking at him through the gaps between your fingers. “Give alpha a kiss.”

Reluctantly, your hands lower until they’re resting at your sides. You know the alpha doesn’t like waiting. If he asks for something, you’re expected to do it. Fast. You only get to swallow once against the ball rising in your throat before you tentatively lean down, lips pressing softly on top of the other’s, so softly it can’t be considered as more than a hint at a kiss. You inhale sharply when your chin gets grasped by forceful fingers, balancing yourself by placing both hands on the alpha’s shoulders as he takes the kiss he had previously asked for right from you, sealing your lips together tightly.

Your fingers twist into the material of the shirt you grip, eyebrows furrowing together as you’re kissed thoroughly, your lips are parted by his tongue that easily slips into your mouth, prodding against your own. Kissing is still something you haven't managed to master. It’s not like you get to do it often. You’re more used to being knotted rather than kissed. Somehow, this feels ten times more intimate. Your tummy still overflows with butterflies whenever the alpha kisses you like this.

Before you realize it, you’re being pulled forward until your knees are resting on the mattress on both sides of the alpha’s body, a hand wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You think this must be the calm before the storm. A small moment of lenience that you’re being granted. You let yourself melt into it. Into the arms holding you.

You can’t help but think that this is nice. Dressing cutely after being offered the chance to pick the color of your outfit. Kissing until your lips start to tingle, swelling from the small nips and suckles the alpha offers you. You kind of like how small you feel like this. The alpha’s arm wraps so easily around your waist, hand resting on your hip as he holds you on his lap effortlessly. You shouldn’t, but you think you really like this. You almost lose yourself completely into the kiss. 

Until you hear it.

A small swish right next to your ear. It’s so sudden that it makes you pull back sharply, spit still clinging to your lips. When your eyes snap open, a startled scream nearly rips from your throat. All you manage instead is a struggled wheeze. When your eyes fall onto the glint of the small blade by your head, you scoot back so fast that you nearly topple off the bed. The alpha catches you at the very last second, the arm he still has wrapped around your waist keeps you secure on his lap. You cry out loud when you’re tugged back onto the bed.

“Not so fast.” The alpha tuts. Your eyes instantly well up with tears.

“N—No, you can’t! Please, I—” you stutter, a wet sob slipping past your lips— “I’ve been good! I—I don’t deserve this, p—please—”

“Shh,” you instantly get hushed, calming pheromones begin to pump into the air, but they do little to ease your anxiety, “not gonna hurt you, little omega. Don’t worry.”

As you still struggle to push against the alpha’s chest and get off his lap, you can’t help but think about how much that sounds like a lie. How can he say that he’s not going to hurt you but have a knife pressed to your side at the same time? You gasp when you get easily manhandled until you’re turnt around, your back now pressed to the alpha’s chest, one hand resting on your belly, the other slowly making its way between your thighs.

You breathe in shakily as the blade is slowly lowered until it rests underneath the bottom of your dress. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as you watch the tip of the knife lift the material until it uncovers the meat of your thighs. You feel hot tears instantly wetting your cheeks.

“Already crying?” The alpha mumbles curiously. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Yet. The promise of something that is going to happen soon. You cry harder. “Please!”

“Shh,” He tries to hush you once more, nipping playfully on the side of your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looks down at what he’s doing, “don’t wanna hurt you. Just wanna mark you, that’s all.” Your breath gets caught in your throat when the hand that had been previously resting on your belly slowly trails up to grab one of your tits forcefully. “Just a little bit.”

When the knife is turned so that the tip lays against your skin, you abruptly squeeze your eyes shut and twist your head away, not able to watch. Your whole body locks up, teeth gritting together as the first touch of the blade hits your thigh. Just like a baby, you weep.

You expect to be silenced. To get a threatening bite over your neck. Maybe even a squeeze around your throat. What you don't expect is a powerful slap right over your cunt.

“Stay still.”

You whimper, trying to squeeze your legs together, but you know better than to fight back. The blade returns. And then, with a short glide, it cuts into your thigh.

You cry and scream loudly, until you realize that the pounding in your head and the soreness of your throat hurt a lot more than the little lines that graze your skin, barely drawing any blood to the surface. When you go to reach for the alpha’s hand, you get slapped again. This time, it lands right over your clit. You whine out loud through the sting.

“You’re being bad, Y/N.” The tone is threatening enough to have you fall limp against the chest behind you, weakly sniffling in defeat. “I don’t like stupid brats.”

The next series of slaps are completely undeserved and makes you cry and beg for mercy until your throat closes up and snot runs down your face. It’s not a pretty image. You can do nothing as your cunt gets abused continuously, your clit being hit over and over until the pain slowly starts stimulating you, making you splatter slick all over the alpha’s palm. You think your pussy must be red and swollen by the time it all stops, and you get thrown on your back onto the bed.

You’re too dizzy to realize what’s happening until your legs are thrown over broad shoulders, your dress gets pushed up to your hips, and your sore pussy is being filled in no time with the alpha’s girthy cock. You sob through the pain of it, crying weakly as your body gets jostled up and down onto the bed, you grip the sheets to try and ground yourself.

“Stupid omega. I give you such nice things, and you can’t even sit still for me?” You struggle to take in huge lungfuls of air when you see the blade that had been previously carving into your thigh being pressed against your neck. “Useless.”

This time, your cry is one of genuine hurt. The aches in your body are sure to heal, but the tear in your heart is deep. Being called such mean words…It hurts you more than you’d like to admit. You sob quietly, moaning through every thrust that has your cunt gushing slick like a faucet.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. You did nothing wrong. This was not your fault. Your head screams at you to shut up and not open your mouth. But still—

“I—I’m sorry.” You sniffle pathetically, blurry vision trying to focus on the alpha’s face.

He stares you down as he fucks you thoroughly into the mattress. Your face twists up through another cry. In your despair, the alpha can’t help but think about how beautiful you look. The knife gets pulled away from your throat far enough for him to be able to lean down and capture your spit slicked lips into a powerful kiss, rendering you breathless.

Just like every other time, the same words get whispered over and over into your skin as if they were a mantra. “My omega.”

You’d never thought you’d see the day in which an alpha would be rammed balls deep inside your pussy, calling you his omega. And yet, now it is something that happens on the daily .

As you lie on your back, eyes swimming around in your skull, unable to focus, you can’t help but think about the reality you’ve started to live. The one in which getting fucked within an inch of your life with a knife pressed to your throat has become the norm. It’s all you have come to know while living here.

A small part of you tells you that it’s all your fault. You forgot the only rule. Just behave. Easy as that. You didn’t need to worry about anything else. You chastise yourself for being so stupid. Brats are truly good for nothing. And that’s exactly how you feel right now as your cunt is stretched impossibly wide around the knot swelling inside of you. Bad and useless.

Blinking through your tears, you look at the leg you have thrown over the alpha’s shoulder. The sight of two bloody initials carved into your skin is what sends you tumbling over the edge, orgasm so powerful it rips through you with a scream.

Blood trails down your inner thigh warmly. Your pussy pulses around the knot that’s being fucked inside of you. Fingertips dig into the carving on your thigh, the pain searing hot. Two letters.

“HJ.”

PAST.

Your walks home with Hongjoong have started to become a more frequent occurrence. After the first one, that was spent in comfortable silence, you found that you quite enjoyed crossing the short distance from the library to your dorm in Hongjoong’s company. It became a silent agreement between you both to do it every day since then.

The comfortable silence would sometimes get disrupted by Hongjoong’s curiosity, asking you short questions, almost as if he didn’t want to test his luck, but he was just too curious to not try. Questions about how your day had been, to what you had eaten for breakfast, melted into slightly more serious ones over time, such as why you seemed so afraid of him or why you avoided alphas on campus.

“Y-You just…” you struggled to find the words. “You make me nervous.”

Hongjoong blinked once at that, but it didn't seem to be a bad reaction. And it shouldn’t be. The fact that he makes you nervous should be a good sign. You hope that he would interpret it as such. It takes him a few long seconds to reply.

“Do other alphas make you nervous?” He asks instead, tilting his head curiously.

You feel a little taken aback by the question. Everyone is aware of your reluctance around alphas. It’s a well known thing. But Hongjoong is not asking if you’re afraid of alphas. He’s asking if they make you nervous. The same way he makes you feel.

“They scare me.” You whisper, finding it hard to hold eye contact with him, but your eyes don’t waver. “But you don’t.”

At that, Hongjoong inhales sharply, visibly trying to hold himself back from puffing his chest out. Your omega recognizes Hongjoong as an alpha that you shouldn’t fear. It is definitely something he has every right to be proud of.

“I’m glad.” Hongjoong nods. “You can trust me.”

You look down at your feet, eyes focusing on your dirty sneakers as you speak. “I—I do.”

The alpha’s grin can be heard through his voice as you stop in front of the dorms after having walked the short distance together, his smile lights up his whole face as he looks down at you. You can’t help but notice the fire that seems to be burning bright behind his eyes.

“Good. I want you to.”

Small walks had prompted the two of you to start spending more and more time alone together, just the two of you, without the rest of your friends. Wooyoung would watch you both warily whenever Hongjoong went to walk you back to your dorm at the end of the day, but his worries slowly started to melt away when he noticed that you seemed at ease around Hongjoong. He’s happy to see how close you've become.

You get to know Hongjoong better, until slowly but surely, you start sitting next to each other in your shared classes. Your seat at the library desk across from Hongjoong has been abandoned so you could plop down right next to the alpha instead, working closely until your shoulders would brush. You fidget around nervously during those times, playing with whatever you can find on the table. 

It just so happens that sometimes Hongjoong’s things end up in your hands. And as you twist his pen through your fingers, you can’t help but notice the engraved initials of his name in them. Glancing over at Hongjoong, you take notice for the very first time that his initials are placed upon a lot of things. On the side of his pencil case, on the end sheet of his textbooks. 

Hongjoong puts his name on everything he owns. 

And that sparks your curiosity.

“Why do you have your initials on everything?” You ask out loud one day, twiddling once again with one of Hongjoong’s pens.

The alpha looks up at you from where he had been taking notes in his notebook, giving you a raise of his brow at the question. You don't say anything; you just sit quietly and wait for a reply. It feels almost as if Hongjoong’s eyes stare daggers into your face. You swallow thickly.

“I don’t like others touching what’s mine.” Your breath gets caught in your throat, pen slowly falling from your grasp at the confession. Hongjoong looks down and smiles. “You’re fine, though.”

That night, as you wrote down the last of your notes from your lecture, you couldn’t help but stare out into space and think of the time you spent with Hongjoong. As you still clutched the pen the alpha had given you, your eyes run over the gold initials. You think they look beautiful. Hongjoong is all you can think about.

Before you realize what you’re doing, your hand has a mind of its own as it scribbles something in the corner of your notebook. Small and pretty, right at the top of the page.

“HJ.”

With a heat spreading all the way from your cheeks to your ears, you rip the page and get to rewriting your notes all over again.

PRESENT.

For the first time in months, you feel the bite of the wind against your skin.

You haven’t left the comfort of your room the whole time you’ve been held captive. You’ve never even done as much as open a window (not like you would have been able to anyway, since they were bolted shut.) You haven't had the chance to smell much of anything but honeyed cherry blossom and sweet amber combined. When your nose sniffs around and inhales the crispness of the cold night air after so long, you nearly fall to the ground.

But you don't get the chance to, since there are strong arms wrapped around your waist to hold you up, but your knees still buckle. You breathe in deeply, heart threatening to beat right out of your chest. You’re so scared and overwhelmed, but so grateful for the first taste of fresh air in months. You feel your eyes well up with tears.

“Can you do something for me, sweetheart?” The alpha brings you back from your small daydream, lips trailing to your ear as he speaks.

You feel every hair on your body stand up. You look around, eyes rapidly trying to take in your surroundings. The alpha’s brought you to the front door of the house and you're astounded to see that you are completely surrounded by the woods. Of course, the constant silence had led you to believe you had been taken somewhere secluded, but you never would’ve predicted it would be in the depths of the forest, surrounded by nothing but tall trees and steep mountains.

You breathe rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open as you nod. A smile is pressed into your skin as your palms grow sweaty.

“Run.”

It takes you a moment to register the word. It was such a brief whisper that you start to believe it might’ve just been a gust of the wind, completely made up by your imagination. But when the arms wrapped around your waist leave you, and the body that had been previously pressed up against yours takes a step back, you’re left cold and alone for the first time in what feels like forever. And you don't know how to handle yourself.

You turn around, lips trembling as they try to form words, but nothing comes out. Your hands are clutched against your chest, fingers twisting into the smooth satin of the night gown you had been granted. You feel helpless, sitting at a crossroad, not knowing if you should walk ahead or go right back where you came from, to try to find comfort in the arms that finally set you free.

A small threatening growl is enough to make you spring into action. Against your better judgement, you do as told. You run.

The dirt feels cold and mushy underneath your bare feet, but you don’t get to think about that as you bolt down the steps leading up to the cabin, your arms flail around your body when you dash forward with no direction, and the sound of your heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears. You’re scared and completely terrified at being offered the chance to get away so easily. This must be a game. The alpha has to take some kind of twisted enjoyment in seeing you try to run away, knowing that, realistically, you stood no chance.

You run for what feels like hours, but it can’t be more than a few minutes. You run until your lungs start to burn and your thighs begin to ache, you weren’t used to putting in this much effort after not taking more than ten steps inside your room every day. You feel weak. So weak that you feel like your legs will give out from underneath you at any moment. Which they do.

You find yourself tumbling through dirt and grime as you fall, yelping loudly when you try to brace yourself on your palms. Small, sharp branches graze your legs, opening up the scars that had slowly started to heal on your thigh. At the sight of blood, you cry. Your knees and elbows feel battered and bruised as you struggle to get back up, your nightgown having torn at the bottom, revealing even more skin.

You don't want to run anymore. You want to go back. You want to cry and sob into the alpha’s chest as he picks you up and carries you inside the house to bathe you just like he does every night. You would much rather take the fingers squeezing and prodding at your body as you get soaped up than this.

Spoiled, your mind tuts at you. You’re one spoiled omega, desperately looking for comfort even in the arms that cause you harm. You’ve gotten so used to being completely provided for that now, being on your own, absolutely terrifies you. You cry out weakly for your alpha.

“Please…I—I wanna go back.” You sniffle pathetically, wincing as you step on tiny pebbles that dig into your heels sharply.

You know that this is what the alpha wants. You’re not stupid. You know he’s looking for a chase. If you were to actually stand a chance at getting away, he never would’ve allowed you outside in the first place. Plus, the scent trail you left behind would be extremely easy to follow for anyone, especially for an alpha that has grown as accustomed to the sweetness of it as he has. He could easily pick out your scent from a crowd. You were doomed from the very beginning.

The crunching of leaves somewhere close by is what gives you enough strength to finally get back on your feet, sniffling pathetically as you run again, blurry vision making it harder not to trip. You choke around a sob, almost screaming out loud when the steps behind you start to grow closer. You’re being chased, and your captor wants you to know that. He wants to let you know that he’s right behind you and he won’t let you get away. You push past the strain in your legs, wind blowing across your face and turning your skin tacky from tears.

You reach a steep drop. You dig your heels into the ground right before tumbling and falling all the way off, bracing your body against a tree trunk, fingernails breaking as you dig them sharply into the rough wood. Breathing sporadically, you look around. You have nowhere left to run. You don't spot the alpha, but you can hear him. His steps are loud and clear, echoing in your ears. Through a last desperate attempt, you go to hide behind the tree, making yourself small as you crouch down and slap a hand over your mouth.

He’s getting closer. Close, close, close—until he stops. Your eyes are so wide, you feel like they might pop out of your sockets as you keep your sweaty palm pressed to your mouth, breathing heavily through your nose. You struggle so hard to keep your scent under control, but you know it must be spiking like crazy. In a desperate attempt at trying to cover it, you slap both hands over the scent glands on the sides of your neck.

You feel him lingering around, the sound of leaves crunching makes every hair on your body stand up as the alpha circles the area you’re hiding in. You hear him sniff the air around, following up with a resonating snarl. Your eyes squeeze tightly shut, thinking that this must be it. You’ve been found.

Then, the steps start to slowly trail away.

Your eyes blink open, taking in a huge breath when you don't hear any more noise. Could this be it? Did the alpha really lose your trail? Would it be possible for you to have actually gotten away? You sit like that for what feels like forever, staring out into space, not daring to move until you deem it completely safe. With trembling hands, you push yourself up and peek out from behind the wide tree trunk. It looks clear. You exhale shakily.

You did it. You actually did it. You got away. 

Your heartbeat echoes loudly in your ears when you slowly start to tiptoe away from your hiding spot. Your whole body trembles as you take your first step out. You keep on looking around, feeling as if this was too good to be true.

Which it was.

“Got you.”

You scream so loud that it pierces painfully through your own ears, the wind gets completely knocked out of you as you find yourself flipped upside down, and a hard shoulder digs into your stomach when you’re thrown over it. You yell desperately, trying to punch and scratch at the alpha’s back, but it’s futile. A painful bite right over the side of your ass makes you yelp out in distress, and your arms hang limp in the air as you get carried back up the hill you had stumbled from.

“Good girl.” You’re confused by the praise, sniffling weakly as you start feeling nauseous from being carried this way.

It’s when you arrive back that you finally realize what he praised you for. You did as you were told. You ran. The cuts on your legs and the dirt underneath your nails are enough evidence of the fact that you behaved. You get one last look at the woods outside, blinking through your tears as the door swings shut behind you.

You expect to be taken right into the bathroom to have your whole body scrubbed raw. Instead, you’re startled to find yourself being thrown onto the bed, body bouncing as it lands on the springy mattress. You gasp when your ankles get grasped forcefully, dragging you down to the edge of the bed where the alpha kneels, swiftly throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“Silly omega.” You cry out, startled when what’s left of your gown gets ripped right in half, exposing your entire body to the air of the room that had slowly gone cold while you were gone. “Can’t get away from me.”

You begin to see stars in your vision when the alpha dives right in, burying his head between your thighs and attaching his lips to your clit, sucking mercilessly until he has you writhing and gasping, slick falling out in wet dollops against his chin. You leave a trail of honey all over the lower part of his face and neck, not able to control yourself as the alpha’s tongue plunges right into your hole, greedily drinking up all the juices you have to offer him. You’re startled when he pulls away to dig his teeth into your inner thigh until he breaks skin.

“You’ll stay right here with me.” He threatens, eyes flickering red as he blinks up at you. “Forever.”

You sob through your orgasm, your whole body feeling weak after having run through the woods for so long. Your knees hurt too much to hold your weight up when you’re flipped over onto your front, flopping down pathetically with your head buried in the pillows. The air around the room is pumped full of powerful pheromones that have you cowering into submission, more than ever before. It smells different. It’s somehow more potent, if that’s even possible. It makes your body tingle all over, cunt clenching around nothing as you’re mounted from behind.

When you get thrust into, you gasp, mouth going slack as you’re filled up over and over again. Digging your blunt nails into the alpha’s wrists that slam right by your head, you can’t help but put the pieces together. It smells so good. Everything about it makes you want to get closer and clamp down around him even tighter, to make sure you get plugged up and knotted real good. It has a fiery heat simmering low in your tummy.

As promising whispers of ‘mine’ and ‘gonna breed you so well’ hit your ears, you think back on the alpha’s words from a few days ago. When his knot pops and cum starts flowing inside of you until it swells your belly, you realize he hadn’t been lying.

The alpha smells earthy and warm—and like the promise of an upcoming rut.

PAST.

The only parties you have ever attended have been the birthday parties of your classmates or neighbors. Of course, they were all held in the safety of someone’s home, where the parents could also attend and keep an eye on their children. You associate parties with confetti, cake, and kid-friendly mock champagne. What you don't associate parties with, however, is everything your friends are describing.

Of course, they’ve all been to parties before. The adult kind, where there is no cake, and the champagne contains real alcohol. Your friends have a life of their own outside of college, in which they do fun things, like going to parties, dancing with strangers, and forgetting about studying for the night. You have always been content with staying in until now. You liked being ahead of your classes and talking to your mom over the phone before bed. But you can’t deny that you feel a little left out.

The first and only time Wooyoung has asked you if you wanted to go to a party, you laughed at him awkwardly as if it were some kind of joke. The thought of being around so many strangers terrified you. You’ve seen the movies; you know how these things go. You watch Lifetime. Parties have no limits. Drinks get spilled, mouths become loose, and hands get sloppy. You didn’t want to risk having a stranger touch you. You know yourself and how you would react. It would only ruin everyone else’s mood. And what you don't want to be is a burden.

So you said no. And ever since then, it had become sort of common knowledge that you would never accept an invitation to a party where you didn’t know everyone. That’s why none of your friends ever asked again.

But Hongjoong likes parties. He used to always go out with the rest of your friends to all the parties that were thrown, even the ones that happened on weekdays. Up until a few weeks ago, he would never miss a single one. Now, not so much. He spends most of his evenings cooped up in the library next to you instead, silently studying together, and occasionally exchanging bashful glances and brief shoulder brushes. You start to feel bad about it.

You feel bad knowing that you might be the cause of Hongjoong not going out anymore. His refusals have started to become less and less subtle. When he gets asked if he wants to go out, his responses usually vary from not being able to because he has a test that has never been announced, to he has to go home and feed his cat, which is very doubtful since you have never heard him even mention having a pet. Ever.

You can’t deny the fact that you’re curious. Curious about what these parties are like. You want to quell that curiosity. At least just once. Just to see what it’s like. All your friends are going to be there anyway, right? If anything were to happen, they would protect you. You had no problem clinging to their side all night long to make sure that no one else tried to approach you. Maybe it could be nice. Something fun for you to do with your friends. You don't know if you’d like it, but you think they most definitely will.

When you speak up from the lunch table while everyone is talking away about the frat party they’re going to be attending tonight, it’s fair to say you’re met with justified shock.

“Can I come?”

You feel bad about inviting yourself, but you know they never would have asked you to come otherwise. And you don't blame them. So you built up the courage to take matters into your own hands. The silence you're met with makes you squirm uncomfortably in your spot.

“Y—yeah,” Wooyoung blinks rapidly, nodding his head, “of course, Y/N!”

Hongjoong, who had been seemingly quiet up until then, suddenly clears his throat and avoids your gaze as he speaks.

“I’ll come too.” 

Wooyoung furrows his brows. “Didn’t you say you had to change the water to your fish tank?”

Hongjoong’s jaw visibly clenches, eyes narrowing on Wooyoung's face. The omega leans back slightly, raising his eyebrows at the sudden change in demeanor. It’s true. Hongjoong did say he had plans for the night. You actually wanted to suggest that you both skip going to the library today because you didn’t want to keep him too busy. The sudden switch confuses you as well.

“My fish died.”

Yeosang slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp. Jongho tuts pitifully. And you’re left rooted to your spot when you feel a gentle hand settle on top of your knee underneath the table. Swallowing thickly, you watch Hongjoong’s fingers softly run over the denim clad skin of your leg. Somehow, the touch feels comforting. 

Sweet amber tickles your nose.

Wooyoung pulls a sad face and apologizes. It’s settled then. You’re all going to the party tonight.

Your stomach rumbles with anxiety.

PRESENT.

Having taken suppressants ever since you were old enough to, you never got to experience what a real heat felt like. You’ve always been very thorough with your medication. You would take it at the exact same time every single day, on the dot. Or at least you used to.

You haven’t taken any of your pills in over two months. At first, things had been so hectic for you lately that you honestly forgot about them. It wasn’t until after the first couple weeks of being kidnapped and getting filled up with cum on the daily that you realized. Going for so long without suppressants meant you were going to experience the first full blown heat of your life really soon. And that thought terrified you.

The signs were small, too small for someone as clueless as you to put together; but your alpha did. As soon as you started huddling all of your pillows in one giant pile on the bed, lying your blankets neatly, and whining pitifully if God forbid they were to be moved, he realized exactly what was happening. Which is why he started bringing more and more things to your room, making you sniffle up at him with big eyes as more blankets along with some thoroughly scented shirts from the alpha’s closet piled in.

For the first time since you had been taken, you stopped pushing. Instead, your omega screamed at you to pull more and more of the alpha in, inviting him into your bed and into your heart. You kept your nose shoved into his shirts at all times, which more often than not led to you waking up in the middle of the night in a wet puddle, completely slicked up.

Your nights wouldn’t usually pass without being knotted multiple times. Your eyes would roll back at the heady scent invading your nostrils with the sweet promises of a claim to come being whispered into your ear. You want to blame it all on the pheromones. What did the alpha do, and why did he smell more appealing than ever before? You wanted to bathe your body from head to toe in spicy notes of heady musk. You wanted to taste it on your tongue and have it coat the back of your throat. You never thought you could become addicted to a scent, but you think that right here, with your head pressed into the alpha’s neck, is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Bathing on your own is something you haven't done once since being here. There were always hands on your body, lathering your skin up with soap, scrubbing you gently of any remnants of blood, tears, cum or any other bodily fluids. You think it’s kind of nice being taken care of like this. You learn to enjoy it far more than you probably should. You don't have to worry about lifting even as much as a finger when powerful arms wrap around you from behind, moving your body as they wish.

Your head leans back against the alpha’s shoulder, sighing in content as your sore thighs get massaged, strong hands kneading the strain away. You shift slightly, wincing when the knot that still hasn’t gone down inside of you tugs at your pussy again. The alpha growls low in his chest. You sniffle, head turning to the side.

In your bittersweet obliviousness, you can’t help but think that the alpha looks beautiful like this. Focused on taking care of you. On pleasing his omega. Your throat feels thick with the beginning of a purr, which travels between you both quietly at first, but gradually grows higher in pitch as the soreness in your muscles get massaged away. Without even realizing what you’re doing, you lean closer.

The scent is intoxicating, radiating in waves from where it’s most powerful, right over the alpha’s scent gland on the side of his neck. If you were actually clear headed right now, you would be mortified by your own actions. You feel drunk, completely overrun by lust. Your whole body burns up as you lean closer, lips ghosting on top of the alpha’s skin with the promise of a touch. You can feel his chest become rigid against your back as he holds his breath completely.

Your jumbled thoughts make the decision for you. You feel as if you’re no longer in control of your own body when your lips pucker, grazing them ever so slightly right underneath the alpha’s scent gland you’ve been subconsciously nosing at for a good minute now. You feel your lungs grow weak when the arms around your waist squeeze you so tight that they begin restricting your airflow. You’re too desperate to care. Too desperate to feel, to smell, to taste. The tip of your tongue darts out, only barely getting to touch the scent gland in front of your face before you’re gripped harshly, a hissed snarl hitting your ears.

You instantly pull away, choking around a cry as you begin to get fucked right onto the knot that’s been keeping you plugged, cum swishing warmly inside your tummy. The water splatters all around you, landing in big puddles on the tiles, your hands slip as they struggle to grasp onto the edge of the bathtub. Your head strains to push to the side when lips get sealed over your scent gland, sucking hard and making your eyes roll back.

“Mine.”

It smells good. Like earth and sex and everything that is sure to make your mouth water. Heat simmers steadily through your veins. You sob, eyes snapping wide open when the strong scent of what can’t be mistaken as anything but rut hits your nose.

You cum with the word "yours" falling from the tip of your tongue.

PAST.

You thought that the party would feel a little easier with your friends by your side. You assumed that having Wooyoung next to you and Hongjoong (hopefully) pressing up against you to send any unwarranted alphas away would grant you enough peace of mind to actually be able to enjoy yourself. But things don’t really go as planned. Wooyoung is not glued to your side, having lost him somewhere in the crowd about fifteen minutes ago. Hongjoong is also nowhere to be seen after announcing that he was going to go grab both of you some drinks. And now, you’re left alone, in the corner of a room filled with people that you don't know.

You wait impatiently, biting the skin around your nails bloody and wincing at the sting as you keep on looking around, hoping to spot a familiar face. There are two omegas you sometimes see in your biology lab, dancing wildly in the middle of the room. You also spot some other people you’ve seen in your lectures before, but you couldn’t name them even if you tried. And then, there’s someone else.

Your nose had been completely overwhelmed by the variety of scents mingling together when you first set foot inside the frat house. It was simply too much. All that sweetness, along with sourness and bitterness, should never be combined. Your nose itched as you struggled to breathe shallowly through your mouth and not let yourself freak out over all the strong alpha scents currently surrounding you. Until you pick up on the one of burnt orange and your skin instantly bristles.

It's strong, radiating towards you in waves. You know the pheromones are directed specifically at you. An alpha most commonly shows interest through their scent. And the alpha eyeing you from across the room is making his intentions very obvious. So obvious in fact that they have you clamping a hand over your nose, to try to evade the disgusting scent of smoke filling your lungs.

Your knees feel weak as you look towards the source of it. The alpha starts to make his way across the room, a look of lust evident on his face. His eyes pin you into place as if he wants to ravish, to control and dominate; his intentions clear as he strides towards you.

You gasp and back even more against the wall, knees locking together as your legs feel as if they’re going to give out on you. A startling growl splits the air. You're shocked to find that it doesn’t come from the alpha, making his way towards you. Instead, it rumbles from the other side of the room, where your eyes instantly snap towards. You swear you feel them become glossy with tears of relief when you make out who the person on the other end is.

Hongjoong takes long, purposeful strides your way, two plastic cups clutched in just one of his hands, the other instantly reaching out for you as soon as he’s close enough to do so. You mewl weakly when a wrist gets pressed to your neck, gasping as the alpha’s strong scent of amber is rubbed right over your scent gland. You grip onto his arm tightly with both hands.

The other alpha is completely forgotten about as you look up at Hongjoong, who won’t seem to take his eyes off the threat standing about ten feet away. That was a close call. But Hongjoong came back just in time to save you and cover you in his scent to lure away the unwanted alpha. Almost as if he were staking a claim. Obviously, you knew he only did it to protect you, but your omega still preens at the attention.

“T—Thank you.” You stutter, breathing in more and more of Hongjoong’s scent with each inhale. It now clings to your skin, and it’s impossible to avoid. It’s only when the other alpha decides to give up and walk away with a defeated scoff that Hongjoong finally looks at you. He grips your chin, tilting it upwards so you’d meet his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You gulp and nod your head weakly in the alpha’s grip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you here by yourself.”

All you can do is shake your head in silent protest, not wanting the alpha to feel as if this was his fault. He’s supposed to be having fun, not watching after you to make sure you’re safe. You look down at the drinks, the other is still gripping in one hand, and tilt your head curiously.

“This one’s for you.” Hongjoong clears his throat, pushing one of the red cups in your direction. “It’s not very strong, so you should be fine. I made it myself.”

You would trust anything Hongjoong gave you. You smile gratefully and take the cup from his hand, bringing it up to your lips. In a stupid attempt of wanting to forget what just happened, you downed the entire thing in just three huge gulps. Hongjoong’s eyebrows raise, most likely not having expected that. Your lips purse, mouth twisting at the bitter aftertaste. The drink is fruity, but it definitely has a kick to it. Your tongue feels tingly.

“Don’t leave my side.” The alpha warns. You wouldn’t dream of it.

It’s about an hour later that you feel your eyes begin to feel too heavy in your head for you to keep them open anymore. Your body sways as if it’s turned to jelly, and you lean your weight against the person next to you. You can’t recall who it is, but they’re definitely sturdy enough to hold you up. You giggle airily at nothing in particular.

“Y/N?” It sounds like Wooyoung. It must be Wooyoung. You smile with your eyes still closed. “Christ, how much did she have to drink?”

Your mouth feels full of lead when you go to answer, but no words come out. You want to say that you didn’t have much, just one drink. You admittedly expected to get drunk easily, since your mouth had barely touched any alcohol before ever in your life, but you didn’t think it would feel like this. Like your whole body was floating somewhere far away from you, completely out of your control. You mumble something incoherently, forehead pressed to someone’s shoulder.

“Definitely way too many to count.” You hear Hongjoong answer for you. Lie. Hongjoong is a liar. Why was he lying? You want to gasp at the realization, but you’re too tired to react.

“You were supposed to watch over her, you idiot!” Wooyoung screams angrily and you whisper a quiet “uh-oh” that no one picks up on.

“Wasn’t that your job?” Hongjoong comments dryly, wrapping an arm around your back and letting you press your face into his chest.

No words leave Wooyoung for a few long seconds after that. You feel tired. You want to take a nap. You also want some water. Your mouth feels impossibly dry. You whine into Hongjong's chest.

“Just…take her home, please?” Wooyoung sighs, his voice melting into the heavy beat of the music. You feel your body swaying along to the rhythm.

“Will do.” 

“Is it time to go home?” You think you ask. You try to at least, struggling hard for only just the last word of the sentence to come out, quiet and slurred. Your nose presses against a warm neck. Your legs give out from underneath you just as you get picked up and carried outside the house, the night air cold against your skin. Your head falls back onto Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“Yeah, pretty.” The alpha whispers, engulfing you in his comforting scent. You preen internally. “You’re coming home with me.”

You knock out before you can realize that Hongjoong is headed in a completely different direction than the one of your dorm room.

————

You awaken in a room you knew you didn’t belong in, only to startle when you find yourself tied down to a bed. A bed that wasn’t yours. Your head was pounding heavily, and your body felt as if it had been run over. Is this what a hangover felt like? But you didn't recall drinking that much at the party. The last thing you remembered was downing the entirety of the drink Hongjoong had given you. You inhaled sharply. 

Hongjoong.

You try to call out his name, but your throat feels scratchy and sore. Your whole mouth was dry as you smacked your cracked lips together. Hongjoong was not here, but he was. You could smell him. He’s everywhere around you, his scent clings to your nose and skin. It surrounded you from all ends. Where is he? Why isn’t he here helping you?

You whine pitifully, tugging on the ropes that bind your wrists together to the bedframe. Fighting against the heaviness of your lids, you blink them open only to look down and take notice that you’re not wearing anything but your dress from the previous night. You gasp, clamping your legs together. Your lack of underwear makes your bottom lip wobble, becoming more aware of the danger you're in.

The door swings open. You startle, still trembling from head to toe as you watch a figure step into the darkness of the room. When the lock clicked shut and the light switched on, you exhaled into a wet sob.

“H—Hongjoong!” You cry out, struggling against the bindings again, but to no use. You’re completely stuck. “P—Please help, I—I don’t know who did this!”

“Shh,” Hongjoong crosses the room in no time, crouching by the bed so he can be at eye level with you, “stop moving. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Against your frantic thoughts, you do what you’re told and listen to him. Your body falls still. Looking at the alpha with teary eyes, you can’t hide your confusion. How is Hongjoong so calm? Where are you? Who did this to you? 

“Good. Very good.” Hongjoong smiled, reaching out to run his thumb across the softness of your cheek. You cowered, trying to pull away. Hongjoong didn't seem to mind, though. “You’ll learn fast if you keep listening to me.”

Learn what? What does he mean? Why isn’t he freaking out the same way that you are? Why won’t he untie you? You voice your discontent through a whine.

Hongjoong tuts in faux concern, leaning closer to dote on you, he gently runs both his hands over your cheeks before petting your hair. “What’s wrong, pup? Are you hurt? Do you need some water? Tell Alpha so he can make it better.”

You feel as if the wind had been knocked out of you. Pup. Hongjoong just called you pup. He’s coddling you as if you were a puppy. Like a mate would. You shiver at the thought. You want to ask him to take you home. Instead, you struggle to rasp out one word.

“Water.” It’s so quiet that you’re afraid the alpha won’t be able to pick it up. But he does.

It’s almost as if he had been prepared for the request; a bottle of water was waiting at the ready on the nightstand by your side. He pulls back to grab it and uncaps it, carefully bringing it up to your lips. The first touch of moisture against your dry tongue makes you inhale sharply. The hand placed on the back of your head stops you from leaning too far back and downing the whole bottle in one go; you take long sips instead, managing to quell your thirst at least to an extent. When Hongjoong pulls the bottle away from your lips, he rewards you with a small praise of “good puppy”, which makes you frown.

It takes you a few long seconds until you gain enough strength in your voice to speak up. “W—What’s going on?”

You are shocked to feel the touch of a hand run up your exposed thigh. You quickly bring your legs together, becoming even more aware of your nakedness than before. You gasp when Hongjoong’s fingers dig into your skin, a thick wave of pheromones shooting into the air, causing your eyes to roll back automatically.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N.” He mutters, the powerful scent of amber has turned you so weak that your legs fall right open when the alpha nudges them apart. “Just the prettiest omega.”

“Hong…” you exhale shakily as your body tries to fight back, but is unable to. Your inner voice screams at you. You can’t do anything but blink blearily at the alpha. 

“You know, I never meant for this to happen.” Hongjoong comments offhandedly, stroking over the skin of your inner thighs, which tremble underneath his touch. “But then, you were just…there.” The scent grows stronger, and your body becomes weaker. “Tiny and sweet. Completely untouched.” His eyes meet yours. The brief flicker of red in his irises makes you jolt. “Like you were just waiting for me.”

With a last weak attempt, you try to scoot away from the alpha’s grasp. Who is this, and what did he do to your Hongjoong? The one who was too shy to hold eye contact with you for more than a couple of seconds. Who smiled at you bashfully whenever your shoulders brushed. The one who slipped you green apple lollipops and sticky notes with check boxes drawn at the bottom. This Hongjoong is different. This Hongjoong looks at you as if he wants to bite. 

You’re afraid he just might.

For the first time, Hongjoong’s resonating growl of displeasure is directed towards you. You cower instantly, stuttering through a gasp as even more powerful pheromones pump into the air. They’re full of dominance, and they make you ache with the need to submit. The hand that had been previously resting between your thighs inches lower.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong nods encouragingly, looking up at you sweetly from where he sits down at your side. You almost don’t take notice of your dress being flipped up over your hips, “your alpha is here now.”

Your alpha. You get hit with a sudden wave of nausea. You yelp when fingers begin to prod around your most intimate parts. You both are shocked to see that his fingers come back wet. Hongjoong grins.

“You want this.” You shake your head no desperately, but to no use. The alpha gets to his feet and is on the bed between your legs in no time. “You want me.”

“N—No, Hongjoong, not like this, p—please—” You sniffle weakly, whimpering when his fingers part your folds.

This was not how it was supposed to go. Hongjoong was supposed to be different. He was supposed to do everything you always imagined  would happen when you fell in love. You wanted to be courted; to be promised the world and give your heart in return to the person you would get to call your mate. Hongjoong was supposed to be that person for you. But now, he’s ruining everything.

“Liar.” Hongjoong slaps your inner thigh harshly, making you jump in surprise. You try to close your legs on instinct. “Got a slicked up cunt to prove it and yet you still act as if you don’t want this.”

Your eyes instantly well up with tears, not used to being talked to in such a way. No one’s ever said such crude words to you. Hongjoong is the last person you expected to ever hear it from. You squirm around uselessly as your pussy gets played with, a thumb presses to your clit as a finger sinks into your tight opening. You’re so overwhelmed that you choke on your own spit.

You've never been touched like this. You were too ashamed to even think about touching yourself down there. It was too dirty. You felt tainted by the hands violating your body. You felt as if you had completely lost control over yourself when you clench down around the fingers inside of you, sending a gush of slick trickling down the alpha’s palm, until it reached his wrist.

You felt so humiliated.

“You were made for me, Y/N.” The alpha fixes you with an intense stare that makes you cry and slick up continuously. “No one else. Just me.”

The sound of a belt buckle being undone makes you freeze. Wet squelches of slick have your cheeks heating up, the fire in your tummy flares like crazy. Then there’s something wide being pushed against your opening.

“All pretty. All mine.” And then Hongjoong’s cock is sinking inside of you.

You thrash your body around, trying to get away, but it’s futile. The alpha’s hands are gripping your hips tightly, holding you down. He lets out a startling growl that has you cowering into submission against your will. You whine like a kicked puppy as your virgin cunt gets brutally plowed into. Hongjoong offers you no mercy as his cock drives into you relentlessly. You can do nothing but sob.

“You take cock so well. Of course you do.” Hongjoong’s nose presses into your scent gland, tongue tracing a wet line down your skin. “You’re just perfect all over.”

You wish you could move your hands. You want to push and hit and scratch. A small rational part of yourself tells you that even if your hands were untied right now, you still wouldn’t be able to do any of those things anyway. Hongjoong holds too much power over you. His scent controls your every move. It’s what makes you leak like a bitch in heat, pressing your cheek into the pillow, leaving your neck exposed. The alpha seems to really enjoy that.

“Gonna keep you right here.” Hongjoong exhales sharply, attaching his lips to your scent gland and clamping down, making your eyes roll back. “Stuffing you full with my knot and breeding you so well.”

You hiccup through sobs, desperately shaking your head from side to side. You don’t want that. You don’t want to be bred, you don't want a knot shoved up your pussy. You just want to go home. 

You voice as such.

“I—I wanna go home.” You whisper desperately through a sniffle. 

Hongjoong’s thrusts slow down just enough for him to be able to lean in closer and press a kiss to your sweaty forehead. He inhales your sweet scent of honeyed cherry blossom and hums in content. 

“You are home, sweetheart. You’re with your alpha now.”

The breach of the first knot you've ever taken in your entire life feels so big, you’re afraid it might actually split you open. You cry out weakly when the base of Hongjoong’s cock swells enough to lock you both in place. You desperately try to stave off your own orgasm, but to no avail. You throw your head back, bare neck elongated and exposed as cum starts to shoot up inside your pussy, it’s too much, too fast, that it makes your stomach cramp up.

Through tears of pleasure, you can do nothing but look up at the ceiling, inhaling sharply at the flicker of a red light. You get fucked again with the same knot that’s plugging you up before you even get to realize where it’s coming from.

PRESENT.

Hongjoong’s been patient. Like a good alpha. Taking such good care of you while waiting for your heat to come. He didn’t just want to be your alpha anymore. That wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to be your mate. And the overbearing scent of sweet cherry blossoms coating the entire house was enough to send him spiraling, confirming his suspicions. It was finally time.

He’s never met an omega that could affect him as much as you do. He never really believed in perfect mates either. But as he lies you down on the bed and crawls on top of you, he just knew that this was how things were supposed to go. There’s no other explanation for it. Your heat triggered his own rut to come early, just as he hoped it would. That’s something so rare, it’s considered to be reserved only between true mates. Hongjoong’s never been sure of many things in his life, but the one thing he’s most sure of is the fact that you were made for him.

The scent of heat and rut mixing in the air has his brain melting, rendering him completely overtaken by lust. His chest vibrates with a continuous snarl as he noses into your skin, your nails scratch over his back before your teeth bite into his shoulder, to try to gain his attention. You whine so sweetly in your desperation.

“P—Please, alpha!” You whimper loudly, throwing your head back and exposing your neck. The alpha’s eyes glow red.

Hongjoong is going to make you live on his knot and only allow you off so you can birth him pups.

“Y/N L/N.” He growls, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders, bending you right in half. “Lying in my bed. Begging for my knot.”

You whimper, reaching out to paw weakly at Hongjong's chest, trying to pull him closer to press your face into his neck. Hongjoong hisses loudly when his knee presses into the mattress that is absolutely soaking, drenched in a literal puddle of slick that is gushing continuously out of your greedy cunt. 

Hongjoong loves you so much.

“I—I need it, please!” Your weepy little pussy clenches around nothing as you struggle to present. If it were up to you, you would’ve already flipped over onto your stomach and pushed your ass out, ready to get mounted. But Hongjoong is holding you firmly on your back.

Feeling the feral urge to claim, the alpha lets his rut overtake his actions. His rational side is thrown out the window for the first time, focused solely on you and the continuous thoughts about how good you’re going to look, swelled up with his pups by the time he’s done with you. With a low growl, he finds his face pressed into your neck, his cock sliding wetly inside of you.

The relief is immediate, but not enough. It’s never enough. Not when it comes to you. And he knows he won’t be able to rest until he’s knotted you so many times that your cunt will become too sloppy to keep his cum inside anymore. With that thought, Hongjoong’s hips start pistoning into you, deepening the bruises that are already lathered across your hips and inner thighs. Your sugary moans are the most beautiful sounds his ears have ever heard.

“Good girl. So good. Gonna let me breed you so well, aren’t you?” Your nod is so frantic you think you might be experiencing whiplash. “You gonna carry my pups like a good little omega?”

Yes! Your mind screams. You want Hongjoong’s pups, you want his cum and his knot, you want all of it inside of you. You want the alpha to take care of you, to hold you like this every night, to fuck you thoroughly into your bed until the sheets are ruined and the swell in your stomach becomes more and more prominent.

Hongjoong’s cock swells, the promise of a knot makes you babble incoherently, spewing nonsense about how good it feels and how much you love it and how you want more. Hot tears run down your cheeks when the graze of the alpha’s teeth hits your scent gland. You desperately wish they would just clamp down and give you the bite that you've been teased with ever since you got here.

“Mine.” Hongjoong whispers into your skin, just like every other time, licking a stripe right over your jugular.

Your eyes flutter shut, desperately speaking out loud the word that’s been resting upon your tongue for so long now.

“Yours.”

The snarl is so loud, it hits your skin before it does your ears. Sharp canines sink into your neck like a knife through smooth butter as soon as Hongjoong’s knot inside of you pops. Your heart sings from the feeling of a bond being formed.

When you close your eyes, you think that this right here could be your forever.

THREE MONTHS LATER

The coming of spring makes the outskirts of the cabin look even more beautiful than before. Hongjoong spent a good full week working on building a garden backdoor, where seedlings could sprout, giving you access to grow all the flowers your little heart desired. The grass had been neatly trimmed, and any rocks or weeds had swiftly been removed to ensure that everything was perfect. Hongjoong will always offer you nothing but the best. It’s the least you deserve.

With spring also comes new beginnings. And Hongjoong thinks that a fresh start is exactly what you both need. He’s been slowly making changes in preparation for it. Not everything could be settled in one go. Hongjoong had to get some business in order before anything else. He started small, with some housing arrangements.

Your old room became empty as soon as you mated. Hongjoong deemed separate rooms completely unnecessary now, since he knew there would be no more chances of you ever wanting to escape. He moved you upstairs to his own bedroom, which was much larger and more accommodating. He’s reminded of you smiling brightly at the offer of a new bed. Your alpha’s bed. Hongjoong loved nothing more than the sight of you rolling around in his sheets.

Along with bedroom relocations came the decision Hongjoong had been contemplating for a long time. The sight of you sleeping blissfully in his bed was enough for him to make up his mind for good. He didn’t want anyone else ever getting to see you like that. Sharing you with the world is not something he’s keen on anymore. So, without thinking twice about it, he grabs a tall enough stool so that he would be able to reach the camera installed in the corner of the room, and swiftly unplugs it.

No more red dots will be haunting your dreams at night and antagonizing you from far away. Hongjoong made that decision as soon as he laid his mark on your neck.

His computer is something he didn’t have the necessary patience to approach for a long time after that. The recordings had stopped, but everything else was still there, up and running. Hongjoong thought about keeping them all for himself. To have such important parts of your relationship recorded was something rare. Everything was on there. Your first kiss. Your first time having sex. His first time feeding you his cock. Your first heat, along with your mating. They’re all precious memories to Hongjoong. Things that shouldn’t hold sentimental value, yet somehow they still do.

But it’s risky. It’s been risky from the very beginning. It’s not the first time Hongjoong has done something like this and gotten away with it. You weren’t the only omega the cameras installed across the house have recorded. You were just the first to have ever stayed. That’s enough of a reason for Hongjoong to want to erase all these videos from existence, making sure no one else but him gets to have these memories of you ingrained in his brain.

The titles have his hands clutching into fists, previews of the videos making his pants feel all of a sudden a little too tight around his crotch. They’ve all been carefully chosen.

‘tiny omega takes her first knot’

‘bound & ravished—innocent omega begs for her abductor’s knot’

‘omega takes her punishment well with a knife pressed to her throat’

‘kidnapping:alpha goes on a hunt and comes back with an omega hanging off his knot’

There are a lot of them. So many that Hongjoong has lost count at this point. Even after all this time of not posting, the views have continued to spike, the last video ever posted being at an all-time high. Hongjoong doesn’t look at the comments anymore. He’s made that mistake before, and it led to him putting a literal hole in the wall. The thought of anyone out there saying the same things about you as he does makes him seethe. Only he’s allowed to say how pretty you are, only he gets to praise you for how well you take cock. No one else is worthy.

Everyone is obsessed with you. And of course they are. How could they not be? Hongjoong is a first-hand victim of your beauty. He can’t really blame them. They all love seeing your pretty face on camera. You’re just too good. Hongjoong never tells you what to do or how to act. Everything the lenses have captured has been real. The viewers seem to really like that. They love how natural the “acting” feels. If only they knew…

They’ve all been waiting. The most anticipated video has been slowly collecting dust in Hongjoong’s archive. It would be so easy. Just a pick of a good title along with some tags and he could just wait for the money to roll in. Everyone’s been dying to see you finally get claimed; to watch you get fucked thoroughly with a mating bite to your neck.

The video is there.  

But Hongjoong is never going to post it.

Not when you’re in the other room, humming sweetly as you fold the alpha’s clothes, piling them neatly in your shared closet. Not when you’re in the kitchen, cutting up fruit with the swell of your stomach pressing into the countertop. Not when you look up at the alpha with hearts floating around in your eyes, as if you wanted nothing more than to bake him cookies and birth him a litter.

Those are all things only Hongjoong will ever get to enjoy and cherish for the rest of his life. His hand doesn’t even hesitate as it presses the delete button, erasing all of it from existence. Every video, every comment, every view. The page is gone right before his eyes. He’s pleased as he shuts the computer down, going to the other room to do what he’s supposed to—tend to his omega.

After that, it all comes pretty easily. He drives back towards campus, somewhere he hasn’t been in a long time, and parks right outside the dorm rooms. It’s very easy to get the person at the front desk to give him a key to your old room. A simple claim of being your mate is enough to grant him all his wishes, contentedly humming a random tune as he loads up all of your old belongings in the trunk of his car. It all goes smoothly, just as expected. Except perhaps for one small bump in the road.

“Hongjoong?” The alpha turns around after he finishes putting some of your things away, leaning against his car as he glares back at the person that’s quickly walking up to him. “Holy shit, where have you been—”

Wooyoung stops dead in his tracks as soon as he’s close enough to sniff the air around. His eyes widen, books falling from his arms, laying in a sad heap on the dirty ground. Hongjoong sighs. He doesn’t have time for this. 

“Y/N…y—you found her?” Wooyoung asks shakily. Hongjoong tilts his head to the side, eyeing him curiously. His raised brow speaks for itself.

Come on, you can do better than that. Take another guess.

Realization suddenly dawns on Wooyoung’s face. Hongjoong doesn’t just have your scent lingering on his skin. It’s completely intertwined with his own. He doesn’t just smell of amber anymore. His scent sweetened, welcoming the scent of honey and cherry blossom alongside. Hongjoong smells like he’s been bonded. It’s very easy for Wooyoung to put the pieces together after that.

“You son of a bitch, where is she?” His voice shakes around a threat, visibly wanting to get closer to most likely punch the daylights out of Hongjoong, but he knows he stands no chance against the alpha.

Hongjoong shrugs his shoulders, getting back to his feet before turning around to shut the trunk of his car. His smile is patronizing when he looks back at Wooyoung. As if he’s smugly bragging about it all.

“Take care, Wooyoung.” He says, getting into his car without looking back once as he drives away.

The house smells sweet, like freshly baked apple pie and an omega he wants to get his hands on right this second. Going into the kitchen, he frowns when he doesn’t find you there. The pie rests on the windowsill, and right outside in the garden, he sees you, kneeling in the grass and tending to your petunias. 

Hongjoong smiles.

He thinks that things couldn’t have gone any better than this. This is exactly the life he’s imagined for himself. Living in a small house, somewhere far away from the rest of the world, with the cutest mate, growing beautiful flowers in the garden, and grinning widely as you get up and waddle over into his arms, the swell of your stomach pressing against his body.

You call out his name sweetly, as if Hongjoong is the only thing you’ve ever known; the only thing you’ll ever need. The alpha gathers you up in his arms, afraid that you might crumble if he lets go. With the scent of cherry blossom pressed to his nose, he knows that this is exactly how your lives were supposed to be. Running his hands across your stomach, he smiles with the most genuine joy he’s ever felt in his life.

Hongjoong is going to keep you right here, just like this. In his arms at all times. Protected from the world. He noses over your mating mark, a small playful growl escaping him as he picks you up and carries you inside the house. He bites his lip at the sound of your giggles when he places you down on the kitchen counter. He takes a step back to appraise you from head to toe, in silent disbelief at the sight of having such a beautiful omega as his mate.

“My sweet girl.” Hongjoong exhales through a smile.

When he kisses you, your lips taste like the rest of forever.

A/N: If you made it to the end of this, you’re now obligated to go watch the why do you love mv right now on YouTube. No excuses!

[stxrrywoo]

THE HEIST ── k.ys & j.wy

"please don't leave me." you murmur quietly with a shaky voice. "don't say such stupid things." yeosang grumbles from above your head. "wherever we go, you're goin' with." wooyoung confirmed, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your shoulder before burring his face in your neck, his warm breath making you shiver.

what started as a normal day quickly turned into a life or death situation when you and your best friend are caught in a hostage situation during a bank heist. however, when you're taken with the men you find out that there is a lot more that awaits for you behind the walls of their hideout and you slowly find yourself not wanting to leave... especially not when wooyoung and yeosang treat you so kindly.

premieres may 7th, 2026

taglist open

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

[velvetmatz]

STOCKHOLM₊˚⊹♡ J.YH | 12 (2/2) - FINALE (m)

jeong yunho x afab! reader (feat. ot8)

for mature audiences only, minors will be blocked.

⟢ a/n: THIS IS THE SECOND HALF OF PART 12 | this does NOT in any way, shape, or form depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities or actions, please and thank you.

⟢ summary: the grande finale™

⟢ total word count for both parts: 56.4k (128 pages....)

⟢ warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | swearing, captive reader, conditioning, use of names (daddy, angel, sir), psychological warfare, manipulation, mentions of death/dying, PTSD, brief/indirect mention of SA

18+ THIS IS THE FINAL WARNING.

posted: 04.05.26

⟢ [CLOSED] taglist: @cocostar1117 @sw33tsaturday @mangalovesanime-blog @ciderxi @aurorasjoongie @violatedvibrators @prchiquita8 @mythicalthing @stolasisyourparent @thenewblackcanvas @lucatiny @whyismingi @0x11s @jellyroll22 @eshia16 @scarletxatz @jkayy-prodian @honghwalvr @0mrrp @h0efor2ho @ickssspencer @nadinenaya @ayleekay2006 @freyaphoria @daydreamqueenjaycee @lol-imtrash2000 @sweatyracoon @oceanside-view97 @holykstan @rellz-bellz @hwxbibi @sksngs @haven-cove @dollysecrets @sitycc @nadinenaya @onlyforwoosan @a1avav @cotton-candycloudz @blu-kyl @fancypeacepersona @mingtiis @the-silent-listener09 @luvrgirlkumi @sugar-spice-bitch@lovemollywho @maliabobea15 @rockstarsanie

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next time you wake up, you’re alone. 

Everything hurts but also… doesn’t. Like something is blocking you from feeling any of the pain from before. A dull, underlying discomfort. 

You don’t remember much of what happened, why you ended up here, wherever you are. There’s a black hole in your memory that turns everything fuzzy and confusing. What you do remember is how cold you were, near freezing. Cautiously, you move each finger one by one, and wiggle your toes, making sure all were accounted for. You remember two loud, sudden noises. Someone else got hurt. Two others, you think. You can’t recall who, though. 

You remember being touched by strangers. The thought terrifies you all over again, and you slowly squeeze your thighs together, testing for any soreness. You don’t feel anything. A huge mental weight suddenly lifts off of you, and you sink further into the bed, turning your head to the side to cry in relief. Daddy would’ve been so mad… 

When you eventually open your eyes, the first things you see are balloons.

Odd. 

Off to the side, they float on a large shelf beneath a large flat screen television, telling you to get well soon in funky fonts. Underneath the balloons are an array of gifts, each one differing in packaging and size, and a teddy bear perched on top of the pile like a throne. You wonder if they’ll find and give you Puppy sometime soon. That would be a greater comfort than the teddy bear, even if it did have a cute red ribbon tied around its neck. But you breathe a sigh of relief upon the sight of all the gifts. A wave of comfort washes over you at the thought of Yunho sending you all of these. He must not be mad at you anymore, and sent you these, knowing how scared you are here. You can’t wait to see what he got you. 

You see that they have also placed a small Christmas tree in the corner. 

Right… you remember, it is Christmas – or at least it was recently. 

You groan as you shift to get more comfortable, and feel a small tug within your chest. Your eyes fly open and you panic once you see multiple tubes protruding from your chest and arm. Immediately, you want to rip whatever is in there out, but your hands are still restrained. A rough scream that sounds just like Yunho’s name tears from your throat and two nurses run in, trying to calm you down. 

“No!” You try to scream at them, but it comes out as a breathy, broken cry, “No! Leave me alone!” 

Both nurses back off right away. One of them calmly tries to explain to you that you’re in the hospital, and the tubes you see are to drain the fluid in your chest, and an IV to keep you hydrated. You don’t respond. You regress further. 

Daddy hasn’t given you permission to speak to any of these people. 

He’ll take the presents away if he finds out.

He’ll leave you here. 

You press your mouth together, refusing to say another word. Curling up on your side, you don’t even look in their direction. In this position, there’s an added pressure somewhere in your chest and a pull in your shoulder that you don’t like. Yet you don’t move. You hate that they’re looking at you. They’re not allowed to. 

One of them brings the teddy bear over, setting him down on the foot of your hospital bed, leaning against the footboard. Eventually, after checking your vitals and trying – and failing – to ask you a dozen questions you don’t want to answer, they leave. 

You break down as soon as you’re alone again. 

You don’t understand… why did Daddy leave you here? He would never leave you out in the world unprotected, no matter what. He didn’t even assign one of the boys to stay with you. It just does not make sense. The not-knowing overwhelms you, and your temples begin to throb from stress. 

The only comfort you can find is in being asleep. So you’ll sleep until Daddy comes to get you. 

Until he brings you back home. 

  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sleep is something you’re not really afforded. 

You wake up often due to the pain, sometimes pressing the button for the nurse to administer more pain-killing drugs to your system, and several times throughout the day – and night – people walk in to poke and prod you. They keep asking you questions. The same ones, every single time, every single shift. It’s always loud, bright, and disorientating. You hate it here. You miss the blackout curtains throughout the apartment, shielding you from this blinding light. You miss waking up snuggled next to Yunho. You miss that safety. 

The nurses finally freed your hands from your sides earlier this morning and you don’t even thank them. You hid your hands under the blankets, like a child that didn’t want to give you their favorite toy. In your somewhat newfound freedom, you pulled the blanket higher over you, so you really didn’t have to look at anyone if you didn't want to. It’s easier to block out the world this way. 

By mid-morning, you’re unable to fall back asleep, which you kind of anticipated. Still, it’s desperately annoying. One of the nurses that had come in when you first woke up stands by your bed, checking your vitals and typing something into her laptop. She checks on the dressing that covers your wound. You watch her work for a while. You decide that you dislike her the least. She keeps the shades drawn, having noticed your agitation when the sunlight streamed into the room. And so far, she’s been nice. She can read what you want better than the other nurses. 

You startle her by speaking. 

“Where is he?” 

She jumps and clutches her chest, not expecting a question from you. But she quickly regains her professionalism and asks, “Where is who, dear?” 

“Da–” You think twice in the middle of saying it. You need to be specific. “Yunho.” 

“Yunho?” She repeats. 

You nod twice. 

“I– I don’t know, dear. Is he your boyfriend?” 

You drop the conversation there, frustrated. And partly because you don’t know how to answer her question. Whatever your relationship is, it’s so much deeper than that. 

“You say his name a lot in your sleep,” she mentions, resuming her typing after flicking through your chart again. 

She looks up at you, hoping for an explanation, but you just turn onto your side, closing yourself off. You don’t move again until she leaves, and even then you wait a few extra minutes to make sure she’s gone. 

Sleep drags you down out of nowhere. It’s welcomed. 

But of course, it doesn’t stay with you for too long.  

“Honey?” A woman’s voice stirs you out of your deep slumber about two hours later. A gentle hand shakes your shoulder, just enough to wake you up. You grumble and rub your eye, intent on ignoring whoever this is and going back to sleep – it doesn’t register that you’re no longer restrained just yet. But she speaks again, and the words catch your attention. “Someone’s here to see you.” 

Your eyes open and you push yourself up all at once, looking around the room. Did they find him that quickly? Is he going to take you home? A dangerous hope blooms within you, watching the door. 

“Your parents are right outside. Do you want to say ‘hi’ to them?” The nurse asks. 

Parents…? 

The word feels foreign. Wrong. The only person in the world you have is Yunho, you know that. Your parents stopped looking for you. They don’t care. Their faces are blurry, names forgotten. 

You don’t say anything to the nurse, staring at the mattress in silence, hoping she’ll go away. You hope everyone will just go away. The nurse gives you a minute to answer before going to the door, waving two people in. 

A roughly middle-aged man and woman enter your room slowly. The woman clutches the man’s sleeve, staring at you through watery, round eyes. The man holds a small present in his shaking hands. They appear to be exhausted, maybe jet-lagged. There are dark circles under the man’s eyes like he hasn’t slept in days. They both look at you like you’re a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate at any second. 

“Hi sweetie,” the woman says softly, keeping her distance even though you can tell it’s taking a lot of effort on her part to do so. 

The man chimes in, “Hey, kiddo.” He stops himself from saying more. 

The nurses must have said something to them. 

Again, you don’t reply. You keep your eyes on them, watching and waiting for them to do something that Yunho wouldn’t like. Their being here… it doesn’t sit well with you. There’s absolutely no way Yunho would ever let them see you. Especially not unsupervised. For the hundredth time, you wonder where he is, why he’s letting this happen. 

The two people in your room dare to come closer, and you tense with each step.  

Misplaced blame shrouds them both.  

Once they’re close enough to see the extent of your injuries, the woman collapses into one of the chairs near the bed.    

“Oh, my poor baby.” She cries, unable to tear her gaze from the violent purple and red bruising that covers every inch of your throat up to your jaw, and down towards your chest. 

Ugh. 

This display of emotion annoys you – or maybe it’s hearing the nickname Daddy gave you coming from someone else’s lips. You even roll your eyes, though you instantly feel guilty for doing so. She weeps harder, covering her face with her hands as she tries to pull herself together. The man places a hand on her shoulder, and the small action triggers something. 

A memory. 

You remember the airport, waving goodbye to… someone. A man and a woman, the man’s hand on the woman’s shoulder. To control her? To comfort her? You can’t tell anymore. They had waved goodbye until you were out of their sight. They had shouted encouraging words after you so that they may follow you on your journey, far from home. 

They had picked you up from school, taken you to doctor’s appointments, held your hand in the dentist’s chair, let you sleep in their bed when you woke up from a nightmare. One of them coached your soccer team when you were a kid, you just couldn’t remember which one. You loved them once. 

This was all lifetimes ago, now. 

You’re different. You’re not theirs. They stopped looking for you. They gave up. 

Yunho would have torn the world apart if you ever went missing. He wouldn’t have stopped his search, not for anything. Of this, you’re certain. 

“I’m sorry,” the woman says through sniffles, plucking a tissue from a nearby tissue box and wiping her eyes. “We’re so sorry, sweetie.” 

You don’t look at them. You don’t want to, even though your body naturally starts to relax around them. It’s recognizing them before your brain does. The heart monitor records how your pulse gradually begins to slow to a normal pace. 

The man changes the subject, pointing out the pile of presents. “Looks like you didn’t miss Christmas after all.” 

You almost shrug. The most he gets in response is a slight twitch in your left shoulder. 

“Do you wanna see what you got?” He asks. 

Yes. But not with them. You don’t want them to touch what Yunho got you. The man picks one of the presents up, bringing it over to you. The tag is written in unfamiliar handwriting. 

To: Y/N

From: All The Staff ♡

Oh… well, that’s nice of them, you suppose. All you do is stare at it, unmoving. It’s not from Yunho, so you really have no desire to open it. 

But the man takes it upon himself when you don’t unwrap it. Growing more and more agitated, you clench your teeth, hands itching at your skin. You don’t want your first present to be from strangers. No. 

You look away before you can see what it is. 

“Oh wow,” he says, pulling the gift out of the box. “The staff got you a weighted blanket. That was nice of them.”

Your shoulders hunch and you bow your head, not wanting to hear. He places it over your legs, and it takes every single ounce of self-control to not throw it off of you like a petulant child. The weight of it feels claustrophobic, meant to keep you here forever.  

“Gotta make sure to thank them when they come in again,” he reminds you innocently, but that’s the last straw. 

He doesn’t tell you what to do. You press the call button for the nurse to come back in. You hope it’s the one you like. 

“Are you okay, sweetie?” The woman asks, worry lacing between every syllable. Her eyes are still red from crying. “Are you in pain?” 

Right away, the nurse you want comes in, her eyes sweeping across the room, trying to figure out what you need. 

“Hey, honey. What’s going on?” 

Keeping your head off to the side, all you do to answer is point over at the door. It only takes the nurse a second to realize what you want. 

“Okay, no problem. Mom, Dad, we’ll see her tomorrow, okay?” 

You want to correct that, to say that you don’t want to see them tomorrow at all, but remain silent. They’ll just keep coming back anyway. Deep down, you know you’re expected to go home with them. But that’s not what Yunho wants.   

The woman cries again as the two of them leave, escorted out by the nurse, and you can hear her until she reaches the end of the wing. You don’t relax until you know they’re gone. With a swift kick, the blanket falls off the side of the bed, and the weight is gone as well. That’s enough excitement for one day, surely. 

A knock on the door shatters that hope. 

Thankfully though, it’s just the nurse from before. She lets herself in quietly, picking up the discarded blanket and setting it down over the back of one of the chairs instead of placing it back on you. Smart. 

Then she sits down. 

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t look at her. You watch the clock like it’s the most fascinating thing to you, never wanting to miss a single second. You tap your finger against the mattress, the one with the pulse oximeter on it. 

“It’ll all get easier,” the nurse says, this time startling you. “Just takes time, you know?” 

She doesn’t expect a response, and you don’t really give her one. However, a shrug in response from you is still considered progress. She’ll gladly take it between the alternatives. You suppose she’s right, but you’re not happy about it. You don’t want to get used to a new normal, whatever it may look like. The uncertainty of it all scares you.  

There’s another bout of silence. 

“Your parents don’t know who ‘Yunho’ is… do you know his address or number?” 

You used to know his number, but you haven’t exactly seen your phone in about a year. You’re pretty sure Yunho chucked it into the Han River the same night he took you. He couldn’t have it potentially alert your location and bring the police right to his doorstep, per se. You bite your lip, shaking your head. It’s frustrating to be able to remember select, small details like that, and not what happened recently. Or your parents. 

Wanting more answers, you point at your throat and chest and then your wrist, hoping you’re making it clear you’re asking when this all happened. Two days ago? A week? The nurse tilts her head, confused. You point towards the Christmas tree and tap your wrist again. 

After a few moments, she seems to understand. 

“How many days since…?” She gestures to your injuries. 

You nod, looking down again. 

“It’s December twenty-seventh today, so… four days ago.” 

Huh. So that’s why the man said you didn’t miss Christmas after all, even though technically you did. You woke up only yesterday, the twenty-sixth. A brief memory of being happy to know the date again flashes in your mind, but you can’t place when that was. December something. Someone had told you the date… who was it? Why can’t you just remember? 

You look up at her, as if she has the answers. Speaking of names you don’t remember, you point at her nametag, unable to read it. You’re sure she’s told you before but you weren’t exactly in a get-to-know-you mood yesterday.  

“My name?” She clarifies. You nod. “Jiyeon.” 

Pretty. It’s nice to put a name to a face. You repeat it over and over in your head so you can maybe remember it later. Hopefully everything else will come back to you in time. It’s just going to be frustrating for now. At least you still remember Yunho. The thought of him is keeping you somewhat grounded while you’re here, though it raises a lot of questions you don’t have the answers to. And no one here knows who or where he is, which brings up even more unanswerable questions. 

A loud siren blares through the hospital halls, calling all available medical staff to one of the rooms. An automated voice announces that it is a ‘Code Blue’ and Jiyeon springs up from her chair at once, telling you that she’ll be right back before rushing out. Before the door closes behind her, you see other nurses sprinting down the hall as well. You blink, and you’re alone again. The announcement stops after about another minute or so. 

Jiyeon doesn’t come back right away like she said she would. Eventually, you just stop waiting for her to return. The silence creeps in, burrowing into your ears and you paw around at the blankets to try and find the remote for the TV. You find it on the table next to you, within reach. It’s similar to the remote you are used to in Yunho’s apartment, which is helpful. With a push of one of the buttons, the television blinks to life. Color explodes across the screen. 

You relax once you see it’s some sort of children’s cartoon program, something that Yunho would allow you to watch. It entertains you for a while, but it quickly becomes too overstimulating. The voices and sound effects mixed with the bright colors proves too much for your head to handle at the moment. The channel switches to the news. The two anchors relay all the information about a recent bus crash somewhere in the city before moving on to a singing program, and you decide it’s good background noise. You lower the volume a little more, and turn on your side, intent on trying to fall asleep again. 

An hour later, with no success, you just listen to the news anchors once they reappear on screen. You don’t want anyone to come in, but you are antsy that Jiyeon already broke a promise to you. She said she’d be right back. You know it’s selfish of you to think you’re the only patient that she should pay attention to, but you can’t help it. However, you guess you’re used to being alone. 

Unfortunately, you’re not left alone for long. A nurse you don’t think you’ve met before comes in, alongside a tall man. A doctor in a long white coat, holding a clipboard. On sight, you instantly tense up, scooting farther up the bed to put distance between you and him. Your pulse quickens, and each pound of your heart hammers against your bruised chest. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he says warmly, standing at the foot of your bed. “Glad to see you awake. I’m Dr. Ahn. I just wanted to touch base with you and see how you’re doing.” 

You bring your knees in so your feet are no longer that close to him. If he’s going to touch you, you’re going to see him coming towards you first, which gives you time to act. You don’t like him saying your name so casually. 

He’s obviously been briefed that you are refusing to speak, because he doesn’t wait for a response from you. He flicks through your chart like he’s reading the newspaper. 

“Your vitals are looking good, so no issues there. We’ll be taking the chest tube out this afternoon, see if your lung is doing what it should be on its own. Your parents are gonna be here all day, so if you want them in here when that happens, just let us know.”

You glare at him as he gets closer, checking your IV bag. The squeak of his shoes against the floor make you nauseous. He notices you staring and offers a small smile. 

“You’re very brave, you know,” he says, patting your knee. You resist the urge to bite his hand off. Your skin crawls, astounded at his audacity. A wave of anger and fear crashes into you all at once, and you shove his hand away. You ignore the surprise on his face, more preoccupied with how frightened and fed up you are. Can’t they just get all of this over with so you can go home? At this point, you’ll walk back. You don’t care if that’s what you have to do to get back there.     

The doctor says something to you, but you ignore him. You watch the door, waiting for Yunho to come in and kill him for touching you. 

The young nurse speaks up next, taking his place beside you.  

“Y/N, I’m Nari. I’m a sexual assault nurse examiner. I would like to perform a Sexual Assault Forensic Exam on you, but only with your permission. It’ll be entirely up to you if you want to send the results to the police as evidence. Do you think that’s something you’d like to do?” 

You freeze. Sexual assault? 

Your pulse skyrockets. Is that what they think this is? Is that what you’re a victim of? Is this why they’re keeping Yunho from you? They don’t understand. No one does. Yunho didn’t put you in the hospital, surely not. He wouldn’t. He’d never hurt you this bad. Even when he had burned you, he made sure it wasn’t bad enough of an injury for you to need a visit to a hospital. He’s smarter than that. Minor injuries, or death. No in between, and certainly no hospitals. You breathe heavier and heavier, suddenly feeling like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. 

Both of them see that you’re getting worked up again and back away, getting out of your space. 

“It’s okay, honey,” Nari says, trying to calm you down. 

You want to yell at them, scream, cry, throw things, but you force yourself to keep quiet and still. If they think Yunho made you into such a mess, you won’t just play into that theory so easily. No. You won’t prove them right by acting up. 

You flip that same switch that always straightens you out. Suddenly you’re calm, indifferent. You can’t let them continue to think that Yunho was a bad influence on you, so you’ll be on your best behavior. However, you’ll still keep the no-touching boundary. You’ll talk to people when they’ve earned the right. You breathe normally again, settling back against the hospital pillow like nothing happened. 

Dr. Ahn and Nari stare at you, utterly perplexed. You don’t meet their stunned gazes. In fact, you only look up again when you hear Dr. Ahn leave. 

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’ll see you later to remove the chest tube, alright?” He’s already halfway out the door before he finishes his sentence. 

Nari lingers for a little longer before leaving as well. You almost relax once she’s gone but you hear her run into someone just outside your door. 

“Jiyeon!” She says, “I’m glad I caught you.” 

You perk up. Jiyeon was on her way back to your room. 

“What’s going on?” You hear Jiyeon say, lowering her voice. 

“Okay so… she’s refusing the SAFE,” Nari starts, seriousness lacing through her words. 

Jiyeon exhales. “Okay,” she says, processing that as Nari continues. 

“And she responded badly to Dr. Ahn. I think we should keep the male staff to an absolute minimum when it comes to treating her.”

“I agree,” Jiyeon says. “I’ve been trying to tell them.” 

Your heart warms a little upon hearing that. She’s been sticking up for you even when you’re not around to hear it. She probably doesn’t realize you can hear her now. 

“I’m gonna try and hold off the detectives until tomorrow. Does that sound good?” 

“Yeah, she’ll be off the chest tube and in less pain, I think that’ll be okay. Her dad said the family lawyer flew in this morning, too. I’ll talk to her about it. I don’t want her getting caught off guard by such a big visit.”

“Okay… alright, thanks, Ji. Have a good rest of your shift.” 

“Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Knock knock.

Your door gently opens, and Jiyeon peeks in. You’re still curled up, knees bent and feet flat on the mattress, absentmindedly running your hand over the soft blanket. 

“Hey, Y/N,” she smiles as she comes in, settling back down in the chair she was in earlier. “Doing okay?” 

You nod, keeping your expression neutral. 

“Good. Listen, I wanna talk to you about tomorrow. There are some people who would really love to come talk to you, and just figure out what’s been going on the past year. I can try to be in here with you, or, if I’m not available, I can get Mijoo to be there.” Mijoo must be the other nurse, the one who told you that your parents were here. 

Jiyeon waits, giving you space and time to say anything before continuing. 

“Y/N… I want you to know that all of these people, they just want to help you. Our number one goal is to help you in any way we can. Does that make sense, honey?”    

The words impact you, but it just takes a while to process and believe them. They sound genuine coming from her, but you can’t say the same for the others that she’s talking about. Your trust is not so easily earned anymore. Especially not here. Jiyeon is nice, yes, but that doesn’t mean you trust her as much as you did Yunho or– 

Oh my god– 

There were two shots that night. Both hit their targets. 

Three bodies in the snow. 

Unbeknownst to Jiyeon, a certain word she said triggers a memory or two. There’s a familiar voice in your head, “There are other people who want to help you. Protect you.”

“Angel, please let me help you.” 

Seonghwa’s injured. Mingi’s shot. They’re hurt. Hell, you don’t even know if they’re alive or dead. You cover your mouth with your hands.

Jiyeon’s voice cuts through your panic, “Seonghwa and Mingi?” 

You realize you must have said their names out loud without even noticing. 

“They came in with you,” she says, scooting her chair closer. She doesn’t try to touch you, which you appreciate in this state. “They’re here, don’t worry.”

“Alive?” You ask, and she hides her reaction to you speaking quite well, maintaining a calm demeanor. 

“Stable,” she confirms. “I can’t really tell you anything else, for privacy reasons.”  

The sigh of relief that leaves you is from your very soul. 

Stable. Alive. Not dead. 

If only you knew anything about Yunho. 

“Can I see Seonghwa?” You hear yourself saying before you can stop yourself. 

Jiyeon shifts, fidgeting with her ID badge. “I– I don’t know, honey. That may not be such a good idea.”

“Why not?” You ask, not understanding why you shouldn’t be allowed to see him. 

She shifts again, avoiding eye contact with you, clearly trying to think of a professional answer that will satisfy your question without saying too much. She looks over her shoulder, towards the door. You follow her gaze, not understanding why she’s looking over there. 

“I’ll ask,” she says finally, faking a quick, small smile. You don’t return it. “Anyway– back to what I was saying about tomorrow. Do you think you’ll be up for that?” 

You almost forgot what she even said. It takes you a long moment to remember. Something about people who want to talk to you, that either she or Mijoo will be with you while they talk to you, how they want to help. Something tells you that you’ll have to do this eventually – it’s not something you can ignore. 

You nod, even shrugging a little. 

Jiyeon sighs with a small grin playing on her lips, and she pats the bed. “Great. I’ll let them know.” 

She gets up to leave again, but you make a small noise, like a cat not wanting their owner to leave for work. There’s something you want to say, on Yunho’s behalf. It takes you a couple minutes to force the words out, pushing past the mental block. 

“It’s… not assault,” you manage to get out. Jiyeon’s eyebrows furrow, but she says nothing, waiting for more. “He– he didn’t sexually assault me.” 

Now her face is unreadable, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe that at all. It’s rather jarring when she doesn’t say anything back to you. She just pats the mattress again, and sees herself out. 

You look away too quickly, missing the two policemen guarding your door. 

You deflate once the door clicks shut behind her. The teddy bear continues to stare at you, still leaning against the footboard. You’re rather surprised you haven’t kicked it off in your sleep yet. Or maybe you have, and someone put it back on the bed. 

Whatever. 

You pull the blanket up and over you, ready for this day to be over already. At least you got some answers, though. Seonghwa and Mingi are accounted for. They’re both here, somewhere. Since you have similar injuries, you bet that Mingi is probably even on the same floor as you. Two people you know and are familiar with. They’re here and they’re ‘stable’. 

It’s quite a comforting thought. 

You hug the blanket, tucking it under your chin where the bruises aren’t so bad, and decide to try and sleep again.   

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You get about three hours of sleep before you’re woken up to remove the chest tube from you. 

Gladly. 

Every time you breathe, you can feel it rubbing against your ribs. It’s rather uncomfortable. 

It’s a semi-quick procedure, albeit a bit painful as it’s being removed. Later, they wheel you into a room to be X-rayed, to make sure your lungs remain expanded, working properly. Judging by the satisfied looks on the nurses faces, it must be a success. 

By the time you get back to your room, you’re exhausted, but you already know you’re not going to be able to go to sleep until tonight. You eat your lunch quietly, finishing everything on the plate and showing Mijoo when she comes back in to take the tray away. You flick through the same channels before finally giving up and landing on the sports network. It’s a replay of a baseball game from over the summer. You’ve never been interested, but you remember Yunho talking about a team he liked several months ago. You can’t think of the name of the team for the life of you, but you know it isn’t either of the ones on screen right now. Hm. 

You’re trying to figure out and understand the rules of the game when there’s a soft knock on your door. As usual, you don’t really react, but your eyes instantly snap to the door, waiting to see who walks in. 

It’s two men. One is obviously a police officer of some kind, complete with a badge pinned to his chest. You’re taken aback by his presence entirely. The second man, you don’t recognize at first. Dressed head to toe in black, sunglasses on even though he’s indoors, face mask, and black fluffy hair. It’s the hair that gives him away, as well as the sweater he’s wearing. 

“Seonghwa!” You gasp, sitting up. 

He takes his sunglasses off, looking over at your window. Of course you still had the shades drawn. He won’t need his glasses in here. Unsteadily and slowly, he makes his way over to the chair by your bed, taking your hand in his when you reach out for him. He sets something down on the floor that you didn’t realize he was holding before. His eyes linger on the officer who stays put by the door, waiting to see if he’ll break you two apart.  

“Hi, angel,” he says quietly, like talking any louder will earn him another concussion. The officer shoots him a look, which Seonghwa sheepishly looks away from. 

You lower the TV volume, as well as the volume of your voice, “Are you okay?” 

He shrugs, glancing down at his sunglasses that dangle off of his free hand. The obvious answer is ‘no’. You both know that. 

“Linear skull fracture. Could’ve been worse. I got discharged today,” he says, lightly touching the back of his head. On instinct, he checks for blood when he lowers his hand back down. “Are you okay?” 

You squeeze his hand, bringing it closer to you. “Yes… kind of. They want to bring in detectives tomorrow to talk to me.” As you finish your sentence, you look over towards the officer. He doesn’t look like he’s paying too much attention to what you’re saying. Then again, you could be wrong. 

You still have no idea what he’s doing here. 

Seonghwa nods, taking that in. He pulls his face mask off too, putting it in his pocket. His lip is split but healing, the skin there a noticeably darker color. The dark circles under his eyes are fading, and his skin has more color to it than before. That’s good. He looks much better than last you saw him. He looks alive. 

“You should talk to them.” He clears his throat, playing with the face mask and sunglasses in his hand. 

“Okay…” you acquiesce. Only Seonghwa could’ve made you agree to do that. Him or Yunho. Maybe that’s why the nurses let him in to visit you. 

Seonghwa chews the inside of his cheek for a moment or two, looking down at your intertwined hands before seeming to remember something. 

“Oh yeah,” he mutters to himself, leaning down to give you what he had brought in. It’s a little gift bag, with sparkly white tissue paper peeking out at the top. You prop yourself up even more. He glances over at the pile of presents on the desk, comparing the size of some of them. He hopes you like what they got you. 

“The boys and I, um… we got you this.” 

You unlock your hand from his so you can open your gift, setting the tissue paper down on your lap to unveil two items: a leather-bound journal, and a small, flat box. You pause, knowing what type of box this is. Seonghwa’s leg bounces from nerves, alternating between watching you open it, and the baseball game that apparently just got interesting. You take the journal out first, flipping through the fresh, blank pages. The edges are silver lined. The leather feels expensive, definitely high quality, and there’s a pure white ribbon attached to the spine of it for you to use as a bookmark. 

“I needed a new one,” you murmur, saying it more to yourself than to Seonghwa. “Thank you.” 

You set it down on your lap, peering into the gift bag to see if that box is still inside. It is. It wasn’t an illusion or trick of the light. You pick it up like it’ll break, glancing up at Seonghwa as if to verify that they really got you jewellery of some kind. His leg keeps bouncing rapidly, carefully watching your reaction. 

Engraved within the deep maroon lid, is the word, ‘Cartier’, and your heart skips a beat. No way. When you lift the lid off, you’re met with a stunning silver bracelet, thin and delicate and beautiful. There are tiny black stones intricately embedded into the silver, and you look back at Seonghwa for answers on what they are. 

“It’s obsidian,” he explains rather sheepishly, “it’s meant to um… it’s supposed to protect you. At least, that’s what Wooyoung said.” 

“Wow,” you breathe, almost too nervous to take it out and try it on. It looks so dainty and fragile nestled between the velvet interior of the box. “It’s just… it’s so beautiful. Thank you.”

Seonghwa scoots forward, taking it from the box to help you put it on. It’s so light against your skin, and it catches what little light filters through the shades effortlessly. If you thought the journal was expensive, this must be worth so much more. You bring your wrist up to your face, looking at it closer. Every single detail is perfect. How did they– why did they do this for you? 

“You deserve it,” Seonghwa says, as if he was reading your thoughts. 

There’s a long pause between the two of you. The baseball game and the accompanying commercials break up the silence adequately. Your free hand keeps touching the bracelet, running your finger over the deep black stones. It’s much prettier than the hospital one you have to wear. The officer keeps staring at Seonghwa, like he’s waiting for him to make a wrong move, or say the wrong thing. Occasionally, you’ll steal a quick glance over to both of them before returning back to the game. Before long, you and Seonghwa just pretend to be interested in it, unwilling to talk about anything serious just yet. 

“Do you…” you swallow hard, hoping he’ll actually tell you something about this. “Do you know why Yunho hasn’t come to see me? Is he still mad at me?” 

Seonghwa pales. 

The officer clears his throat. Seonghwa stops talking. You glare at the officer, anger flaring up. 

“Can you give us some privacy, please?” You ask, tone more impolite than your words. When the officer doesn’t move, ignoring you to just continue staring directly at Seonghwa, you almost lose it. You’re so tired of not being listened to here. And the way he’s just standing there silently, observing and eavesdropping like an invasive ghost is making your fucking skin itch. 

“An– Y/N, he has to be in here with me… it’s for your safety.” Seonghwa explains in a meeker, unsteady voice. 

“You won’t hurt me,” you insist, a little surprised at how much you actually believe that. It was barely a formed thought in your head before you said it out loud. It must be true. “He won’t,” you say to the officer, trying to convince him. 

Seonghwa takes your hand again, “It’s alright, it’s alright. He has to be in here to make sure that we’re both safe. That we’re not mixing up our stories.” 

You bring his hand closer, frustrated tears starting to gloss over your eyes. 

“I don’t understand…” you mumble dejectedly. “I can’t even remember most of it.”

He gets it. His memory is just as patchy, if not worse due to his injury. “No one’s expecting anything from you right now. All you need to do is focus on getting better.” 

You try to agree with him, stubborn as you are. You know he’s right. In time, you will know everything, you’re sure. It’s just hard to be patient when there are gaps in your memory you’d really like to fill. Which brings you to ask your next question. 

“Have you seen Mingi?” You ask, suddenly very interested in your blanket, avoiding eye contact for now. You feel kind of stupid for asking, but are curious nevertheless. Of all people, you know that Seonghwa will give you the answers you’re looking for if you ask him. 

He sighs shakily, squeezing your hand tighter. “I’ve heard that he’s okay. I’m not really allowed to see him.” It’s obvious that he’s trying extra hard to cherry-pick the words he uses in front of you and the officer. 

‘Keep it vague,’ they had told him before entering your room. ‘Don’t push it.’ Jiyeon had to pull so many strings to even get him allowed to be in the room in the first place. Even more to allow him to bring the gift in. Seonghwa knows his lawyer is probably freaking out right about now. Oh, well.  

“But– why–?” You shake your head, pressing your free hand to your forehead. You know you should just drop it, but you can’t. “Seonghwa, where is Yunho? Tell me.”  

He leans back, away from you and peeks over at the cop. This, he knows, he really cannot say anything about. 

Basically, he only knows what Wooyoung and Jongho told him. Both of them came to the hospital yesterday to visit him, and to supply him with some updates, as well as your gift on the off chance he’s allowed to give it to you. In a word, the two of them are conflicted about their roles in all of this. They feel just as guilty, but were never as involved as the rest of the group. Hongjoong, effectively, saved them from most of the legal trouble the others are currently facing now. They’re free. They spent one night at the police station, answering questions, and that has been it so far. 

Hence, the need for a cop or two outside your room, as well as Mingi’s. It makes everyone who knows more details about this than the general public feel more at peace, knowing that there are two that essentially ‘got away with it’. 

Wooyoung and Jongho told him that Yunho has been charged with aggravated assault since neither you, Seonghwa, or Mingi died. However… they’re having a hard time finding any concrete evidence to pin any of the attacks on him. They have the group as witnesses to the shooting of Mingi, but nothing else. Just word of mouth simply isn’t good enough. It’s highly likely that Mingi will testify against Yunho, so his security will be ramped up soon. Apparently, since the boys told them, the cops working your case have been trying to find any evidence that links him with the manager’s death, and the girls before you. The apartment has been picked apart piece by piece, swept through by forensic teams and equipment. Evidence collected, bagged, and shipped off for analysis. The detectives have a lot of grieving families and loved ones looking at them for answers right now. The pressure is building. 

You are their miracle. The one who can put him away for good. 

The question is: will you? 

“Tell me, Seonghwa. Please?” You shake his hand, trying to convince him. 

“He…” Seonghwa gradually begins to shake, pulling at the collar of his sweater with his free hand, looking anywhere but at you. He’s just so nervous as to how you’ll react. The only way to find out though, is by telling you. 

But the officer beats him to it. 

“He’s been arrested. That’s all you need to know.” 

Seonghwa winces, and you blink. 

First of all, you’re angry that the cop so rudely interrupted your – what should be – private conversation, and secondly, what he said just doesn’t compute. 

“Was Hongjoong arrested too?” You ask Seonghwa in a quieter voice, ignoring the cop once again. 

He takes a deep breath. “No… not yet, at least. But they’re gathering evidence against us–” 

“What more evidence do they need?” You interrupt, gesturing towards yourself. 

“What?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing together in total confusion. 

“Hongjoong shot me.” 

Now Seonghwa is really taken aback. Who told you that? 

He blinks before repeating his last question, “What?” 

“Hongjoong shot me.” You repeat yourself as well. In your patchy memory, what you do recall seeing clear as day is Hongjoong reaching for the gun right before you were shot, and holding it in his hand afterwards. It makes sense to you that that is what happened. 

The cop in the corner starts to get antsy, silently making sure his bodycam is still recording everything accurately. Anything said in here has to be reported back, especially if it relates directly to the case. You saying that someone else shot you could be detrimental to the aggravated assault charge they booked Yunho with.  

“A-angel, no…no, no, Hongjoong didn’t shoot you. Yunho did.” Seonghwa says as gently as possible, subconsciously leaning farther back to avoid a potential explosion. This time, the officer lets the pet name slide. 

“How do you know?” You snap at him. “You were unconscious almost the whole time.”   

He doesn’t even flinch. “Wooyoung and Jongho told me.” 

Well… Wooyoung and Jongho were definitely awake during that whole ordeal, so it’s hard to discredit what they say. Nevertheless, your mind argues against believing it. They’re just trying to demonize Yunho, surely. Of course. 

“No, that… he wouldn’t… that doesn’t make sense.” 

Your breathing turns erratic, though you fight to control it. The thing is, it does make sense. 

Even if you deny it, your memory reorders itself. 

Hongjoong trying to get the gun away from Yunho, he grabbed his arm, not the gun. Not until after you were already on the ground. Even then, you try to reason against your memory that because he touched Yunho, the shot was accidentally aimed at you. That explanation would satisfy you if you didn’t remember moving to protect Seonghwa at the same exact time. The look of pure shock on Yunho’s face… wasn’t because Hongjoong shot you. It was because he shot you. 

Well… you always knew he would. He’d made it clear to you that he would. This is an outcome you’ve been trained to expect if you acted out. You stood in front of a loaded and aimed gun. That probably counts. 

Contrary to what Seonghwa expects, you process this information quietly. There’s no outburst. Not yet. Just a silent realization that you’ve been wrong. Confident in your incomplete and ungrounded recollection. You go into damage control right away. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to. But there’s a price to having your memory begin to repair itself: the truth. You had prepared to die. You accepted it.  

And yet the knowledge that Yunho isn’t coming to bring you home nearly kills you. All the time you wasted in this room waiting for him, wondering why he let you come here… 

So, you attach yourself to the nearest person. As usual. You clutch Seonghwa’s hand with both of yours, desperate to keep him here. Maybe he’ll take you back to the apartment. You can wait there until Yunho is released, right? They can’t make you go home with your parents. You’re an adult. But you can’t convince yourself that you can function on your own. And you can’t ask Seonghwa to uproot his life, though a selfish part of you wants to. However, before you interrupted him, he mentioned that the police are gathering evidence ‘against us’. 

The thought of losing Seonghwa next is almost catastrophic. 

Your pulse spikes, beeping incessantly on the monitor. Unfortunately, the cop notices. And, with the worst timing imaginable as you feel the world as you know it on the brink of falling apart, the officer takes a step towards Seonghwa. 

“That’s enough. Let’s go.” 

Without a fight, Seonghwa stands, sending an apologetic look your way. 

“No, no, don’t–” You pull him back, “Please, please don’t leave.” 

“It’s okay–” He tries to reassure you, but the cop pulls him by the arm, breaking you two apart. 

You call his name again, but the officer hurries him out, calling for a nurse. You don’t want a nurse. You want him to bring Seonghwa back to you. Alone, preferably. Body shaking uncontrollably, you throw the blankets off of you, and set your feet on the ground, trying to remain steady. You’re already out of breath by this point, and sobbing rather loudly from distress. Not a good combination for your lungs. Again, your pulse increases its pace. 

You don’t even hear Jiyeon come in, but suddenly she is at your side, helping you lay back down. No one is listening to you. Jiyeon said they care, that they want the best for you, so why can’t they just give you what you obviously really want? 

Jiyeon is saying something to you, but the world suddenly seems so far away and way too close all at once. The feeling of her hand around your wrist causes you to panic, reminding you of the rope tied around it a few nights ago, as well as the restraints on the hospital bed, and you twist and yank it out of her hold. You must’ve accidentally scratched her because she too pulls her hand back quickly, keeping it close to her chest as she assesses the damage done to it. Nothing bad, but you definitely scratched her hard. 

Another nurse runs in, then two more. Jiyeon shoos them out before they can crowd your space and overwhelm you more, calmly but firmly telling them that she’s fine and to go back out. It was her own fault, touching you in this kind of state. She’s just worried about you. 

Once back down against the pillows, you keep your hand on your chest. You’re not sure why… maybe you’re just waiting to feel your lungs collapse or your heart stop. Something to blame this panic on other than the truth. 

The truth that everyone you have loved has left or is leaving you. 

“Honey, let’s calm down now. Tell me what’s wrong.” Jiyeon prompts after checking your vitals to make sure you’re stable. 

“They took him,” you sob, looking back at the door to the room, hoping and praying he comes back in. “I– I got upset ‘n panicked so they t–took him away.” 

Jiyeon nods sympathetically as you talk, giving you the space to air everything out that’s weighing on you. 

“I ruined it, I ruined everything,” your voice pitches all over the place. “They’ll never let me see them again.” 

The door doesn’t open, no matter how many times you look over at it, and no matter how hard you internally beg him to come back. No one is coming to save you anymore. That plan has already been carried out. Yunho’s locked up somewhere, Seonghwa isn’t allowed to see you unsupervised, and even if you decided that you wanted to see him as well, you’re sure Mingi is beyond off-limits now, too. Especially if and when he tells the truth. 

God… everything is such a mess, and it’s all your fault. If you had told Yunho about the plan to get you out, maybe none of this would’ve happened. There’d be hell to pay, sure, but you wouldn’t have disappointed him as badly. If you didn’t look at Mingi through rose-colored glasses, maybe you'd still be in the apartment, impatiently waiting for Yunho to come home. Mingi wouldn’t have been shot. Seonghwa would’ve never gotten hurt that badly. Yunho wouldn’t have been taken from you. Glancing around at your hospital room, a heavy thought makes you sink deeper against the pillows.  

Technically, you aren’t even supposed to be here. And you don’t just mean in this hospital. 

You wipe your eyes with the corner of the blanket until Jiyeon hands you a couple of tissues. They’re from the box that your mom had used that morning. Another wave of guilt crashes over you, remembering how you’d been rather mean to her. 

She lets you cry it all out. You’re not sure how long that takes. When you eventually calm down just enough to speak again, you crumple the tissue in your hand, staring at it for a moment. 

“Are my parents still here?” You ask, tossing the tissue into the nearby trashcan. 

Jiyeon nods. “They are. They’ll be here tomorrow as well.” 

You bite your lip. You’re not ready to see them again, moreso out of fear that you’ll end up hurting them again. But it’s a nice thought that if you need them, they’re available. It’s a tricky thing to want to be alone, but not feel alone. 

“Tomorrow…” you echo, not finishing the rest of your thought out loud. Maybe tomorrow you can try again. Your eyes flick over to her, hoping she understands. 

As usual, she does. 

Once she makes sure you’re calm for the time being, she jots down your vitals for her notes later, and sighs. 

“Okay, honey,” she says, and pats the side of the bed again, “I’ll talk to them. Get some rest for now, I’ll have Mijoo bring in some dinner later. Okay?”

You respond with a short hum, retreating back into your silence. Maybe it’s best if you’re just seen and not heard after all. Maybe Yunho was right… of course he’s right. But something demands to be said. It sits uncomfortably in your mouth, pressing against your teeth and blocking your airway until you let it out. Jiyeon twists the door handle, just about to let herself out.  

“I was supposed to die…” you mumble, sniffling into your pillow. You trace the silver bracelet against your skin. 

Jiyeon freezes in place, the door halfway open. She doesn’t look back at you, doesn’t try to put you right. The staff assigned to you have recently been notified of what happened. 

She knows you’re right. 

The door closes behind her with a small click, and you’re alone again. And being alone is exactly what you wanted, and at the same time, your biggest fear.     

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The rest of the afternoon into the evening goes by less eventfully. 

You manage to sleep, even sleeping through your prescribed dinnertime, and wake up to a tray covered in tinfoil to keep the food hot. You eat slowly, having no one to show your progress to, and come to terms with the fact that Yunho isn’t going to find out if you ate everything you’ve been given or not. It’s rather hard to ignore that so far, they haven’t given you proper utensils to eat with. More like knives and forks for kids, rounded and blunt so as to not inflict any potential damage to the user. The spoons are always nice, though. You lazily push around some of the rice left on your tray, a little unnerved that no one’s watching you anymore… and a little relieved. 

No more newcomers or visitors come into your room for the rest of the day. As night creeps in, you keep replaying your interaction with Seonghwa. You wish you can just be… you don’t know. Normal? Is that the word? Everyone looks at you like you’ll shatter any moment, and they’re basically right. You pretty much proved that today. But what he said sticks with you: “No one’s expecting anything from you right now. All you need to do is focus on getting better.” 

So that’s what you’ll do. Yunho placed him in charge of you while he was gone, and now it’s just extended time. You follow directions, you obey orders. That’s what you’re good at. That’s what you can concentrate on for now, until you and Yunho can see each other again. 

If they’ll let you. 

You run a hand through your hair as if to push that thought away, but your hand gets caught halfway through. Ugh… you haven’t bathed in way too long. You look towards the bathroom, hesitant to go in. Mijoo had told you how to properly wash around the stitches and bandages to avoid any infections or accidentally removing them. It’s just… the water. 

Facing the water by yourself is more daunting than you know it should be. But you feel just gross enough to at least try. You decide to at least stay in there long enough to wash your hair, you feel like you can still smell the forest air from each strand. 

It’s a slow trek from your bed to the bathroom, often taking breaks to breathe and reset. Luckily, it’s not too far of a distance. You manage a small grin at your efforts when you finally reach your destination, this being the farthest you’ve walked by yourself since you’ve been here. But now, you have to continue standing up and face one of your biggest fears. One hurdle down. 

Flicking on the light, your ears ring at the sudden, blinding brightness of the sterile room. It’s a small space, no bigger than Yunho’s closet. The strong scent of the level of cleanliness in here disagrees with what you just ate, but you try to ignore it as best you can. 

You almost back into the door when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. For the first time, you see how bad your injuries still are. Nasty red and purple bruises cover your throat and neck, your chest is basically grey from the severity of the surgery you underwent, and your eyes and cheeks are both sunken in. You’re scary. A patchwork nightmare. After being so used to keeping up appearances for Yunho, this is like getting a lightning bolt straight to the brain. This is what Seonghwa saw when he walked in earlier today. You cover your face with your hands. 

“Oh, god…” you lean against the door for support, sneaking another glimpse at your startling reflection. You’re not just smaller, you’re diminished. The hospital gown wilts off of your thin frame like it’s meant for someone else, there’s a matching cut on your bottom lip that’s similar to Seonghwa’s, and a hauntedness about you that doesn’t sit right at all. A would-be corpse stares back at you through the mirror. You can almost see the dirt that’d be covering you, embedded into your decaying skin.  

All you want to do at this moment is to wash that corpse away. 

Undressing winds you, but you’re too determined now. You have all night to sleep, and you know you’ll feel much better once you’re clean. It’s just the process of getting clean you have to get through now. That’s your one and only goal for tonight. 

The rush of the water hitting the tile nearly decimates all of your confidence in one fell swoop, though. You have to grit your teeth and close your eyes, pushing back against the memories as they come. You force yourself to breathe deeply as you finally step into the shower, the warm water only comforting for a fleeting moment. Turning your back to it helps a little, and after a while your shoulders start to relax, no longer tense and hunched by your ears. The lack of curtain aids you tremendously, as you can see the entirety of the bathroom at once, knowing you’re still safe. No one’s watching you or keeping track of how long you’re taking. You can take this as slowly as you want to. 

Keep going, you tell yourself. 

It also helps to imagine that Yunho is just outside, waiting for you to return to bed, even though your brain keeps replacing him with Seonghwa. Now that you know what you looked like today, you feel a huge crash of embarrassment overcome you more than anything else. You forget your fear just for a second, leaning a little farther back than you are ready for. The water cascades down, dripping off the ends of your hair and you freeze. 

This part is the biggest hurdle.  

You’re not in the apartment… you’re not in trouble… you control it. 

You have control. 

The droplets that drip past your ears kind of make you want to die, but you push through it. Little by little, you tilt your head back, letting more and more of the water fall over your hair. You cover your face with your hands, keeping it as dry as possible, and just sit with the discomfort for as long as you can. Instead of any feelings of accomplishment, you only notice the beginnings of panic stirring somewhere in your body. Time to wrap it up while you’re able to keep yourself in here. Shampooing is easy, and you get through rinsing your hair okay, repeating the process even slower than before. 

By the time you get out, you still don’t feel very proud. Not yet. You’re exhausted, and ready to lay down again. What warms your heart as you finally step out is thinking about how much Yunho had praised you after every bath since that day he corrected you. To the best of your ability, you combat every negative, fearful thought with something you think Yunho would say to you. How proud he’d be. It’s enough to keep you on your unsteady, weakening legs to redress and open the door back out into the room. 

Halfway back to bed, that’s when the exhaustion really hits you. You sit down in a chair by the window and catch your breath. You’re not dizzy, but you’re definitely caught between the borderline. Looking up, you see that your water is both mere feet and hundreds of miles away. 

“Fuck…” you sigh. 

Your hand jumps to cover your mouth, horrified. You look around the room out of instinct, waiting for someone to yell at you for saying such a vulgar word. You know better. Only Daddy is allowed to say that word. Yet the room stays the same. Nothing happens. No one redirects you. 

But they’ll have it on camera, you tell yourself. In the dark, you try to find where they’ve hidden theirs. You don’t see any. 

You’re digesting this when something blinks at you from outside. 

Something white casts the faintest glow past the edges of the shades that cover the windows. High in the sky and constant, unblinking and unmoving – at least not that you can see from where you are. It is no plane or light atop a building. 

The moon. 

You hadn’t seen it in such a long time. In all honesty, you had stopped trying to look for it, especially after Yunho covered up all the windows. The sunlight in the apartment could only creep in around the sides, lighter than air and able to weave its way past the smallest opening. The moonlight was never granted access to you. But this moon tonight is full and glowing brightly, and you wish you could see it properly beyond the shades. 

It hits you hard: you don’t have to wish to see the sky anymore. 

You lean forward before stopping and looking back over your shoulder, just waiting for someone to stop you at any second. You sweep the room one more time for cameras. Maybe you’re tired and missed one because you didn’t look hard enough. Regardless, no matter how hard you search and double check, you find none. Your hand pulls the shades back, only about two inches, just to peek. No one appears behind you. The shade lifts easily, opening even further. No one intervenes. 

The window is now fully uncovered, unobstructed. And you’re unharmed. Your forehead presses against it, your breath fogging up the glass as you exhale through your mouth. 

The snow is in the process of melting away, only a couple of inches left on the ground. The roads below, from what you can see, are completely clear with the amount of hospital traffic in a big city like Seoul. There’s no one outside on the streets, just a couple of nurses, doctors, and other hospital staff leaving work for the day, pulling their puffer coats closer to their bodies as they juggle their car keys and bags. Stoplights take their turns turning green, yellow, red, and cars glide past to dozens of unknown destinations. You decide you like the world like this, with less people and quieter streets. Sleepily humming instead of the shouting of car horns, the music in stores to entice people inside, the hundreds and thousands of strangers that you’ll never know the names or stories of. 

You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever, always looking at life from above and never from within.  

It’s quieter in the world that Yunho has kept you in. Safer… right?

‘You’re safe,’ says the voice that sounds more and more like you, slowly advancing forward again, venturing back from her forced hibernation. The other voice in your head is still there, just without her pedestal and carrying less authority than before. Less weight to each word. That one doesn’t have too much to say tonight, which is a first. 

You stay by the window until sleep beckons you, unwilling to sleep so uncomfortably in the stiff chair. When you finally tear yourself from the view, closing the shades again and tucking yourself back in bed, you fall asleep with moonlight flooding the entire suite. Though a part of you misses the tealights, you think this is not a bad alternative. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Head clearer than it has been since you woke up, the next day carries the calm theme from last night. 

You’re still selective on who you give your voice to – Jiyeon is off today, so you’ve been mostly silent so far – but there seems to be… life within you again. More than what the staff have seen thus far. It’s promising. It’s better. Everyone’s feeling a similar cautious optimism to your sudden switch. Although they’re quick to note your ever-present, continuing aversion to male staff. 

Which is why you’re still nervous about meeting with these detectives soon. They’re supposed to be here in two hours, and you don’t feel ready. Exactly what you’re not feeling ready for, you’re not sure. It’s not something you can pinpoint exactly and neutralize the problem. Unfortunately, you’re sure you’ll find out if and when the detectives do something to unintentionally set you off. You sigh, once again feeling out of control in a situation that hasn’t even happened yet. 

You push your empty lunch tray further away, like it’s offended you by overstaying its welcome. Your hands itch to wash it, to be good. The television is a good distraction. Today you’ve got it tuned into a nature documentary. You have a theory that maybe seeing the outside world inside may help you assimilate back into it later if need be, although deep down, you really hope you don’t have to. It’s the fear talking, but it's so loud and impossible to ignore. It’s the self-doubt that makes you want to give up and turn the TV off altogether, the memory of going out onto the balcony and feeling fresh air again hitting you hard. And the woods… that’s a whole other battle. 

Let’s just say you’re very happy the little Christmas tree in the corner of your room is fake. The scent of sap and bark will haunt you for quite a long time. 

At two o’clock, you’re making some progress, walking around your room, still avoiding the pile of presents you’ve yet to open. The gift Seonghwa gave you is enough. You’re just trying to build up endurance again, impatiently wanting to walk without difficulty. For some reason, it felt much easier to walk last night. Maybe it’s because at night it feels like less eyes on you, no spotlight from the sun even if the shades block most of it out. The day just feels too exposing. There’s too many people who could walk in and start fussing over you. You don’t want that. You know your limits better than anyone else. 

You may as well have spoken it into existence though, because you’re just catching your breath when you hear someone coming right up to your door. As if you’re getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to be doing, you quickly sit in the chair by the window that you were in last night. The door opens just as you sit down. At first, you avoid eye contact with whoever it is, hoping that they don’t comment that you’ve moved. Giving yourself something to do to really sell the nonchalance, you play with your new bracelet again. The person in your room pauses near your bed, mere feet from you. You almost cover the bracelet protectively, not wanting them to ask where you got it… or who gave it to you. 

“I’m glad you liked our present,” a man’s soft voice says, cutting through the silence.

You react at a record speed. You know that voice. It’s the same one you heard in here yesterday.

“Oh my god–! Seonghwa!” You nearly shout, standing up a bit too quickly than you’re used to. 

He must see you stumble or sway, because he makes it to your side in two strides, hands ready to catch you if you fall back into the chair. But you’re determined. You stay upright. You resist the urge to paw at him, to make sure he’s real and that he’s here again so soon. He fusses with you to sit, to rest ‘like he told you yesterday’, he nags. If it was anyone else, you’d be staring daggers at them right now. With him, it just warms your heart, and you cooperate, sitting down slowly and smiling as you watch him drag a chair over to sit with you. You’re just happy he’s here. 

He’s wearing sunglasses indoors again, so the bright lights of the hospital must still be bothering him. You look over at the shades, just in case they can be drawn any tighter to totally block out what little light comes in. 

“Technically you asked for me specifically, so they let me come back. Still supervised, of course.” He answers your question before you even ask it. You look away from him for the first time and see a different officer than before, standing by the still-open door. “The door will just stay open the entire visit. Alright?” 

Honestly, you’ll take it. It’s a small price to pay if it means that Seonghwa is allowed to come see you. 

“Yes, sir,” you say habitually. 

You watch his small grin slip completely from his face. The room feels a bit colder. 

He supposes he can’t just expect all the ‘training’ and trauma you endured to just melt away all at once merely because you’ve been freed of Yunho, but he can’t deny that it shocked him back into reality. Such a small, simple word, and yet the history within its use is ten months long. 

Seonghwa ignores the moniker usage, and does a really good job of pretending that that doesn’t affect him at all. But it does. You can tell it does. 

You self-consciously look away, hand still covering up the bracelet as if you’re scared he’ll take it away as a result of his disapproval of your word choice. Gifts are never permanent, never your sole property. They are privileges, not rights. Based on a reward system, they’re the best way to steer you towards good behavior – following rules, staying quiet, knowing your place.  

Luxuries can be taken away.

“I– um,” you stall, trying to change the subject, “how– how are you?” 

Glad to shift the focus somewhere else, Seonghwa replies, “I’m alright. How about you?”

“Okay. I have my ‘meeting’ soon… the lawyers.” You glance at the clock, hoping that time hasn’t somehow jumped forward an hour. You hope this time Seonghwa will stay for longer. 

He scratches the back of his neck. “Right,” he says, keeping his tone as natural as possible. “I had one of my own this morning.” 

There’s an uneasiness to his voice there that you pick up on. He still hasn’t removed his glasses, so you can’t tell if he’s looking at you or not. Something’s not sitting right, and it’s not just because of a certain word slip. He must notice your look of concern, because he rolls his shoulders back, trying to relax himself. The facade he kept up around you at the apartment is getting to be too heavy to carry with him now.  

“The story will break tomorrow,” he says through an obviously fake grin, trying to make you not feel guilty about it. He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor. Once or twice, he looks up at your bracelet that you’re still playing with.  

It takes you a minute to understand what he’s saying. You adjust how you’re sitting, just to give yourself something to do. All you can say in response is, “Oh.”

‘The story’... reported by outside perspectives with a mystery narrative. No one has asked for your side of it all yet. The boys have probably already given their testimonies, their witness statements as to what happened. Days ago, most likely. That’s one thing you forgot about while staring out the window last night: the world keeps turning. It doesn’t wait around for you. But that’s what today is for. The public can have their crumbs of facts and multitudes of theories about you, but only those closely involved will ever really know the truth of all of it.  

“Listen… as far as, y’know, the legal aspect of everything, we want you to know that we will accept any charges you wish to file against us.” 

There’s a grim, solemn air around Seonghwa that unsettles you. The cop by the door side-eyes the two of you but ultimately says nothing. He’s better than the one yesterday, that’s for sure. 

But… charges. You vs. all of them. Your legal team against eight different sets. Nine stories, all with varying perspectives. You wonder if anything you say will hold any weight to it on account of how bad the fogginess in your memory has become. You wonder if Seonghwa’s worried about the same thing. He keeps subconsciously touching the back of his head, making sure nothing is behind him that could hit it. You desperately want to ask how that happened, but it’s probably a not so pleasant subject to talk about. You’d rather avoid making him feel more uncomfortable than he already is. 

In the silence between you, Seonghwa just listens to the background noise coming from the hospital hallways. The nurse’s station is mere feet from your door, so he lets their quiet chatter fill in the spaces. What he said to you is true; they will accept any charge brought onto them. It’s the very least they can do for you, to accept full responsibility for not doing more. 

The public is going to eviscerate every last one of them, and they brought it on themselves the countless times they could’ve gone to the police and didn’t. All for the same result. Yunho threatened to drag them down with him, and it’s happening, albeit by their volition. 

A gentle, repeated three-note chime coming from his phone seems to pull him back from his brief stupor. Automatically, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small medicinal bottle. You watch as he taps two white pills into his palm before popping them into his mouth, chasing them down with water. 

“Pain-killers,” he explains, twisting the cap of the water bottle back on. He leans back in his chair, but not before feeling the air around where his head will be, and sighs. The exhale comes from deep within his chest. You watch his hands, searching for something. He notices you looking. 

“What?” 

“You’re not wearing your ring.” You point out. 

Seonghwa looks down at his hand, as if to confirm. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “it just… doesn’t feel right anymore.”  

In all honesty, he didn’t think you’d even notice. He had taken it off on the second day of his hospital admission, when Yeosang and San had come to visit him. It felt heavy in his palm, like a weight that he could no longer bear. He’s not quite sure where it is, as he told San to take it back to the dorms, wherever they had all put theirs. The only ring missing from the pile is Yunho’s, but it has more than likely been confiscated by that point already. 

“What time is your meeting?” He asks, changing the subject. 

You glance at the clock on the wall. “It’s at three,” you inform him, finding a stray piece of hair to play with. You lean back against your chair, mirroring him. “How long can you stay?” 

At this, he hesitates. The officer by the door offers no help or answer. 

“Well… I can stay until the detectives get here.” He says uncertainly. Again, the cop says nothing to contradict what he says. 

You nod. “My parents may get here before them.” 

“Ah…” Seonghwa rubs his arm, a subconscious way to try and calm himself. “I doubt they’ll want to see me hanging around you.” 

“I asked for you,” you counter, leaning forward again for emphasis, wanting him to hear and remember that part. “I get… I get nervous when you’re gone.” You admit in a murmur, barely audible.  

Seonghwa still doesn’t look at you, staring off a thousand yards into the tile floor, his hand on his arm pausing a couple of seconds every so often before continuing the attempt to soothe himself. Honestly, he doesn’t know how to feel right now. He supposes he should feel flattered maybe, or content with knowing that his presence is beneficial to you, but is it really? He fears that his presence only keeps you stuck… he reminds you of Yunho based on association. That name you called him by earlier only proves that. Although he knows there’s no one else around that you trust right now, he doesn’t feel very deserving of that trust. He should give you space after today, let you rebuild a new relationship with your parents, and restart a normal life. As normal as you can possibly achieve after all of this. 

“Still, you should be with your family,” he says carefully, “I think it’ll help.” 

You don’t say anything right away, unhappy that he doesn’t volunteer to stay. You’re behaving like a child, you know that, but you can’t help it. 

“If they weren’t here, would you stay?” 

Seonghwa picks up where you’re trying to go with that question at once. “A– Y/N, don’t replace your parents with me. Give them time.”  

Of all people, why must Seonghwa not listen to you, either? Your fuse never used to be this short. Why is it sparking and hissing now? 

“What if I don’t want to? I asked for you specifically–” 

“You only asked for me because you’re not allowed to see Yunho instead.” Seonghwa snaps, speaking before he could think. 

The flames of his words settle in the short distance between you two. He pinches the bridge of his nose, wincing at the throbbing in his head as well as what he just said. Hopefully the painkillers work fast, his vision is already going black around the edges every other time he blinks. If he’s honest, he doesn't regret saying it, moreso how he said it. It’s a sentiment he’s been harboring since the first day he was assigned to look after you. Something far from love, but a relative fondness. A soft spot just for you that he doesn’t know what to do with. Nothing about your situation nor your relationship with him is easy to navigate or filter through. He’ll keep his distance because he wants to do the right thing, show his support for you always but never cross an invisible line he’s drawn for himself. 

He won’t be like Mingi. He won’t believe your traumatic attachment to him is real, or healthy for that matter. It’ll only hurt you in the end. 

At the same time, he knows he’s hurting you now. 

You lean back again, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. 

It’s not true… it’s not. You’re happy to keep telling yourself that, even if you don’t fully believe it. It doesn’t matter anyway. 

The blunt truth of the matter you’ve been avoiding and ignoring like the plague is that Yunho has been arrested. He’s not coming back for you. Not anytime soon. The detectives coming to your room today are going to take whatever you say as evidence against him. Even if you don’t say anything, they’ll take it to mean you’re so traumatized, the whole ordeal has rendered you mute. No matter what, you’re not going to be allowed to see Yunho ever again. 

You swipe at the tears that pool in your eyes, refusing to let them fall. If they do, you’re afraid that the cop may take Seonghwa away again. God dammit, you think before mentally berating yourself again for using another swear word, even just in your head.  

“I didn’t do that for someone I don’t genuinely care about,” you sniffle, speaking to him but keeping your eyes down. 

Seonghwa’s breath hitches slightly, and you wonder if he’s starting to cry underneath those sunglasses. A petty part of you thinks, good, I hope he is. 

Besides, you only jumped in front of a bullet meant for him. 

But you think back to when you had upset him only a few nights ago now, in the living room in the middle of the night. It never feels good to intentionally hurt the ones you care about. The ones you let in. You’re just lashing out because he struck first, trying to get the last word in. Very Yunho-esque. 

Needing to lie down, you stand shakily, slowly trudging back to bed. With time, eventually you calm down. You let Seonghwa sit there, working it out on his own, until the clock nearly runs out. The officer whistles for his attention, breaking him out of another dissociation, and signals him that it’s time to leave. You don’t shy away from looking at him this time.    

When he’s only a couple of feet from the door, you call out to him one more time. 

“Seonghwa?” 

He looks over his shoulder. The officer does too. 

“I’d still like you to come back… if you can.” The insinuation of the incoming chaos ahead is thinly veiled in your words. 

Seonghwa nods once, internalizing what you said, and leads the officer out. It’s a bittersweet change from yesterday, when he was basically dragged out. 

Barely granted two minutes of silence and alone time to process everything, there’s another knock on the door. This time around, you know who it is. 

Your dad opens the door slowly, like he’s trying to not startle you. 

“Hey kiddo, it’s us.” 

Your mom follows suit, a small bakery to-go box in her hands as she comes in. “Hi, sweetie.” 

You swallow hard, managing a small “Hi…” in return. 

Your mom looks like she could explode, cry, and laugh all at once. It’s a lot to contain so as to not overwhelm you. 

She’s really trying her best to hold it together for you. It’s thoughtful. You remember she was a sweet lady. Always wanted the best for you, supported your dreams no matter what. 

Naturally, mainly because it’s such a bright pink color, your eyes drift to the bakery box in her hands. She places it on the portable table near your bed. Her perfume smells familiar… like home somehow. It’s nice. 

“Don’t feel pressured,” your mom starts, “I know you just had lunch not too long ago but… you used to love the chocolate cupcakes I used to make for you, so I just…” she trails off, knowing she’s over-explaining herself a bit too much. 

Your eyes light up – you haven’t had cake in god knows how long. And your favorite, too. 

You grab the box and set it on your lap, sitting up against the pillows. Once open, the chocolatey smell hits you at once and the corners of your mouth twitch, almost grinning. Your parents try not to stare at you, not wanting to make you feel like you’re under a microscope while eating, and you appreciate that as you take a small bite of the cupcake. 

Perfect. 

It’s so rich and decadent your eyes close as you chew. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, placing the cupcake back in the box to eat later. You don’t particularly want chocolate all over your face when the detectives arrive. And, you’ll enjoy it more when you’re not as full from lunch. Maybe you’ll find a way to ask her for another one. 

Your dad helps you put it back on the table and goes over to the window to retrieve a chair for your mom to sit in. He drags it back to its original spot near the bed and you just keep looking at it. Seonghwa had been in that chair mere minutes ago. You’re not sure how kindly your parents would take that piece of knowledge; Seonghwa had gotten so antsy at the idea of being seen in here with you by them. 

“So,” your dad says, standing by your mom who is placing her purse down by her feet, “did they tell you about talking to the detectives today?” 

You nod. 

“Okay, good. We’re also gonna have a lawyer here as well. She’s really good, I’ve heard.” 

You’re not really sure how to respond so you just… nod again, looking down at your lap, picking at your nails. 

Your mom notices how fidgety you’re becoming and asks, “Who gave you that? It’s beautiful.” 

She points to your bracelet with a small smile, curiosity in her eyes. Your heart drops to your stomach. Do you tell them? Yunho had beaten it into you not to lie, but you really don’t want to deal with a lecture or horrified reactions or worse, the two of them making it impossible for Seonghwa to come see you. Something tells you it will already be borderline impossible without their help. 

“A friend,” you say carefully. Not a lie, but not a very detailed answer either. 

The universe has such divine timing for you because before either of your parents can ask anything about this ‘friend’, there’s a knock on the door. You hide your sigh of relief as they turn to look towards the three people who enter, two women and a man. One of the women and the man are dressed similarly, a slight step above business casual, while the other woman is dressed formally, everything tailored and sharp down to her briefcase. All business. But she smiles at your parents and instantly goes over to shake their hands and mention how good it is to meet them in person and not over the phone. Then she turns to you. There’s still a smile on her face but her eyes change into something more serious. 

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Choi Hyein, I’ll be representing you in this case.”

She pauses then, but not to wait for you to say anything. Her pause feels intentional, giving you a chance to really look at her, and to register that she’s on your side for this. She is no threat and no enemy. It’s definitely reassuring.  

The two detectives linger about six feet from the door, measured and alert. The man scans the room like he’s mapping it. The woman lingers half a step behind, already pulling a small recording device from her pocket. You stiffen at the sight of it. But you’re grateful that they don’t crowd you; there’s already so many people in here – more than you’re used to – and they’ve been advised to give you your space. 

“Ms. Y/L/N,” the man says, voice steady. “I’m Agent Lee. This is Agent Jang. It’s nice to finally meet with you. We’re here to take your statement.”

You simply nod politely, not quite sure what to do with your hands. For now, you just keep them on your lap, still twisting and playing with the bracelet. 

“I know this is overwhelming,” Ms. Choi says, voice pleasant but serious. “So we’re going to walk you through this carefully. If anything becomes unclear or too much, please don’t hesitate to ask for clarification or a break.”

Her words make you feel less trapped. You’re not going to be forced through anything if you panic. Hopefully, you won’t, but the exit ticket is nice to have just in case. A choice. Options. 

You’re in control.

“Okay,” you breathe, straightening up a little more.

The detectives seem to relax, knowing that at least for now, you’re onboard. You may give them the answers they need, the final pieces to fit the puzzle. Your mom gets up and lets Ms. Choi sit in the chair by you, while she and your dad stand against the wall near your bed. The two agents move to the window, Agent Lee leaning against the sill and Agent Jang taking the chair. There’s so many eyes on you. 

Agent Jang presses the record button on the little device, crossing her arms and holding it by her elbow. At first, she speaks quietly into it, like she’s talking to herself. “This is Agents Jang and Lee conducting an interview with Y/N Y/L/N. It is the twenty-eighth of December, two-thousand-twenty-five.”

She rolls her shoulders back, clearing her throat as quietly as she can before looking up at you again. Ms. Choi opens her briefcase to retrieve her laptop, intent on writing notes throughout the entire process. You imagine she is also recording this conversation. 

“Let’s start from the beginning,” she suggests, leaning forward a bit. “Can you describe what happened on the day you were taken?” 

Taken. Like you were plucked out of existence. 

“Um…” you itch your arm for no reason other than to just give your hands something to do. Everyone’s watching you. Analyzing you. Waiting for you. 

It’s just like the shower: one thing at a time. But last night, you didn’t have five pairs of eyes looking at you the whole time. 

You look down, trying to recall as much as you can. Something about ice cream… a nightclub maybe? It was blindingly bright and then harrowingly dark. The air was cold, but less so than your recent night in the woods. You had a coat… or he put his around you? What was the weather? There was something pressed against your face, it made the lights above you swirl and your head hurt until you fell asleep in his car. You woke up in his bed. 

“We went out,” you swallow hard. 

“Do you remember where?”

You shake your head. 

And then comes the question you’ve been dreading since yesterday. Agent Lee is the one to ask it. 

“Do you remember who took you?” 

The first instinct is to deny Yunho had anything to do with it. Protect and deny everything – clear his name, be good, be quiet, shift the blame elsewhere, go back to him somehow, deny, deny, deny. It wasn’t safe, you could say, someone else was after you. Yunho just let you stay with him until that mystery threat was removed. There is someone still on the run, loose in the world. But you imagine that the police have swept through the apartment by now. They’ve seen the footage and the chemicals he had on hand to knock you out, they’ve probably found the gun. 

Not many people in South Korea have a gun. 

You’re torn. If he’s already been arrested, though… no– you can’t turn your back on him. This is exactly what he was talking about. Yunho gave you an inch of freedom, leaving you with Seonghwa, and you immediately disregarded all of your rules and responsibilities. But you’re not stupid. Being arrested for his actions towards you obviously means what he did was rather… harmful, to put it into a simple word.  

You press your lips together, stress making your arm even more itchy. There’s no clear answer, at least not in your mind. How can you turn your back on him so easily?   

“Honey…do you know who took you?” Your mom asks, squeezing your dad’s hand so tight he winces. She loosens her grip for a couple moments before forgetting and repeating the same pressure. 

“No,” you say monotonally, “I have no idea.” Your nails leave white scratches against your reddening skin. 

The mood in the room shifts, like everyone already knows the answer and you just won’t confirm it for any of them. Your parents look at Ms. Choi, helplessly, as if she can make you give him up at the drop of a hat somehow. They all stare at you in complete disbelief. They look at your body, shadows of intense abuse and malnourishment, shaking like a leaf, your irises dulled grey from seeing too much, haunted by memories and nightmares alike. 

“Are you sure?” Your mom presses, her rings digging into your dad’s hand. “You don’t have to protect anyone. You can tell us. Whoever it is can’t hurt you anymore.” 

But it will hurt him…

And it will hurt them.  

Part of you says ‘fuck it, tell them’. Let all of the boys fry, let them burn, make them watch everything they’ve worked for come crashing down in a shameful spiral. Give them just a taste of your suffering. 

But you think of Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong, Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, Jongho… even Mingi. The ones who worked tirelessly against their own friend – someone who was once considered their brother – to free you. Do they deserve that? The knowledge of what they’ve done, what they’ve been forced to become a part of, may be punishment enough. You will be the source of their shared guilt and shame forevermore. 

You will haunt them to their graves regardless. 

That quieter, but equally sinister voice pipes up in your head, reminding you that they’re the ones who tore you and Yunho apart. Though, it is getting harder and harder to be angry with them about that. 

The decision you make is not said without a slight waver, that loyalty to Yunho still digging its claws into your vocal chords, but it needs to be said before you tell the room anything further. 

“I don’t want to punish the ones who helped me,” you preface.

Based on the vague facts they’ve heard from the detectives, it’s quite hard for your parents to hear the plural attached to that noun. Your dad crosses his arms and covers his mouth, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. Your mom is shaking. A small part of you wants to reach for her. 

You don’t. 

“That’s a reasonable position,” Ms. Choi says, closing her laptop halfway. “We can advocate for that. We can make it clear that certain individuals acted under duress or made sincere efforts to protect you, which led directly towards your release. However, I will not promise that I can fully exempt them from the law if they are held liable in court.”

The weight of relief that lifts from your shoulders as she talks suddenly slams back down on you again. You wonder if Seonghwa’s lawyer has told him this exact thing already. Most likely. And the others as well. As for Yunho and Mingi, well… their lawyers are going to be in a much harder position if either of them tries for a ‘not guilty’ plea. You have no idea if Mingi is even coherent or awake to have had a talk with his yet. 

Regardless, if there’s a chance you can help them, even just a fraction as much as they’ve helped you, you’ll do it.  

Agent Jang draws your attention back to her, “Y/N, can you tell us who did this to you?” 

Your heartbeat feels erratic, like your pulse is skipping every other beat and then really hammering the next to make up for it. Are you going to denounce him like this? Condemn him like he means nothing to you? You feel like your chest is opening back up again, as if your ribs are trying to crawl out of the wound like a spider. That authoritative, warning voice tries to convince you to not say anything, that he’ll find out and somehow come back to kill you – this time for real. 

What if you tell them and he gets out? Will he even want you back? 

There’s so many outliers, variables, differing scenarios, all being met with uncertain outcomes. You can’t predict the future. You have no idea what will happen tomorrow…how can you decide the fate of all these people? You were so level-headed and clear this morning. It’s overwhelming that his influence has this much of a chokehold on you. 

Even now, you’re just his little puppet, aren't you? 

You look down at your arm that you’ve been lightly scratching this whole time, just skin and bones. The image of the walking corpse in the mirror last night pushes to the front of your thoughts. 

Just tell the truth. Let them decide, it says. 

Maybe you don’t have to make the decision. Everything you say will be without bias, only reciting facts about what happened, and you’ll let them reach their own conclusions. That’s… reasonable, right? 

You roll your shoulders back again, breathing in as deep as your damaged lung allows you to without starting a coughing fit. 

Your lips part. 

All five people wait with barely contained suspense. 

The name fights against your tongue, but you push it out anyway. 

“Jeong Yunho…”  

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One week later… 

Your last full week at the hospital feels surreal. 

Less people come and go, only your nurses and your parents. Ms. Choi came back three additional times the past few days, but you mostly just let your parents talk to her with you present in the room. 

It’s still undecided whether or not you will actually speak at the trial.

The trial itself will be held a few months from now, but there’s no set date yet. Ms. Choi informs your parents that she will be keeping you all updated as soon as she knows anything new about it. Right now, you decided that you will not attend, and Ms. Choi supports this decision. Seeing Yunho again is most likely a very bad idea, especially while testifying against him. 

Your parents bought you a new phone, but the most you’ve done with it is peel the protective sheet off of it and set it up. The wallpaper on the lock and homescreens are the default options. You don’t have any photos anymore. You definitely remember taking many when you first arrived here, though. Now, your old phone could be anywhere in the entire world. More than likely, it’s already been drowned in the Han River. You almost envy it some days when the pain medications wear off. It’s a gradual fight towards recovery, but you’re happy that you can at least take deeper breaths. 

It’s admittedly been rather awkward between you and your parents, especially after the interview with the agents. Both of them had to leave the room, and you weren’t even exactly giving explicit details of what you went through. Regardless, it was more than they could bear to hear. You can tell every time they see you, they’re replaying what they heard. 

It’s been interesting getting to know them again. Every now and then you remember small details and inside jokes, shared memories together, those sorts of things. You’re speaking to them as much as you would if Seonghwa were here. 

But you haven’t seen Seonghwa all week. 

The story is probably everywhere by now. Globally, more than likely, but you haven’t seen or read a single article about it. There are several reasons why, but mainly because you just don’t want to relive everything through a stranger’s words. Your television is firmly set on the documentary channel and or the drama channel. This is mostly enforced by Ms. Choi and your parents. Anyway, you imagine Seonghwa has his hands rather full, dealing with all of this public outrage and shame brought upon the group’s name. You know it’s almost impossible for him to come see you at all, and yet you find yourself waiting for him to show up every afternoon and evening. Just in case. You really don’t want your last conversation with him to end in a panic, or a heated exchange. Since it’s your last day, your hopes are really being tested as each minute and each hour passes without him coming through the door. 

Your parents had left maybe ten minutes ago to go back to their hotel for the night, leaving you to the rare silence of your room, save for the background noise of a history documentary that’s playing on the TV. Something about spies in World War Two. You’re not really paying attention to it, but the snippets of what you do hear sound interesting. 

The phone your parents got you is by your side, nestled on top of the blanket. Your curiosity of the severity of the story and how bad it is for the group nags at you to check. You unlock it, but tap on the TikTok icon instead, scratching the itch to be on your phone but not to search the case. The app successfully numbs that nagging feeling to check for about ten minutes, until you stumble across someone talking about your case. No search required. 

The person talking in the video refers to your case as ‘unfortunate’, but ‘hot’ at the same time. A lump forms in your throat rather quickly the more she talks about how jealous she is of you. 

The video ends with her asking Yunho if she can be next.

By this point, you’re shaking badly, and the comment section is no better. You had hoped there would be a majority of people defending you, calling her out on such a strange and controversial opinion, but what you see shocks you to the very core. 

[user1603275809]: my dream ughhhh 

[b<3]: ungrateful bitch lmao

[SAW ATEEZ 07/31]: girl move over i’ll be your next victim yunho🤪

You shut your phone off. 

Definitely a mistake. You doubt that you’ll reach for your phone again until you get on the plane back home, and even then, you’ll only use it for music. It’s not even the comments and the whole general message you’re getting from the video that hit you the hardest, it’s the fact that they don’t know about the others. The dead girls in the forest. You wonder if they’d laugh online so freely if they knew about them. 

There’s an abrupt gunfire sound effect that explodes from the TV, even on low volume and it startles you that much more. You’re quick to change it back to the drama channel, hands shaking as you sit up and swing your feet onto the floor, intent on getting up and walking this off. The nurses have been encouraging you to go on walks, longer and longer distances each time. You’re almost up to a mile without needing a break. Now’s as good a time as any. 

Walks help not just your body, but your mentality too. And you need a bit of both right now. 

You’d been adamant the past two days that you want to walk alone, without a nurse present and hovering, waiting for you to fail. They’d respected your wishes, but you noticed how they watched you until you’re out of sight or if you caught them looking. Hopefully, because the evening is already giving way to the night, there won’t be as many eyes on you this time. 

When you step out of your room, you’re proven right save for the officer that guards your room. The officer outside your door gives you a look but you draw a circle with your finger, indicating that you’re going to be walking around. He makes an ‘ok’ sign with his hand and waits for you to set off. He gives you as much privacy as he can on these walks, remaining quiet and keeping his distance, staying about ten feet or so behind you.  The hallways for now are clear in both directions, and the nurse’s station is only occupied by two nurses, facing the opposite way. Jiyeon is one of them. She looks up from the computer, a brief look of concern flashing across her face before she lifts her hand, her pointer and middle fingers alternating to mimic leg movements. 

‘Walk?’ She mouths the word. You nod. She nods as well, and just goes back to whatever she’s doing. You’ll miss her. 

As you finish up your second lap, you’re already starting to feel a bit better. That video you watched only had a couple of hundred likes anyway. Surely, not everybody thought the same as she apparently does. It’s just hard to forget about it completely… or forgive. 

A male nurse opens a door to a room you’re just about to walk by, and he wheels out what looks like a medication cart. You stop to let him go with a small bow, and glance at the name written on the wall to indicate who is occupying this room. 

Someone named ‘Song, M’. 

Nosy by nature, you can’t help but peer into the room before the door closes. You can hear the steady, rhythmic beat of a heart monitor, and all the lights appear to be off, just like how you like your room to be. The soft glow of light from the hallway is always enough to keep the rooms dark enough to fall asleep comfortably, but lit well enough to be able to see where everything is. There’s a man propped up in the bed, his face mostly covered by the water cup he’s using to knock back the pills the nurse no doubt just gave him. 

You pass by the room and continue your walk. 

You don’t think much about it, refocusing on thinking about the flight home tomorrow. Home. You can barely remember what your house looks like. Your parents, upon hearing this from you, have started showing you pictures that were taken in the house, and it’s all slowly coming back to you. There’s pieces being filled in the puzzle again. You imagine it’ll be different actually being there again rather than just seeing pictures of it. They showed you pictures of your room as well, and some different memories from varying ages came back rather easily. Sleepovers and sleepless school nights doing homework at your desk, childhood stuffed animals, shelves full of photos and trinkets collected over the years. 

When it comes to your clothes and other belongings here in your old apartment, apparently your parents had received everything a few months ago when it was released from the police. Your old roommates had sent you several of the presents still sitting in your hospital room. The balloons wilted a couple of days ago. 

Rounding the corner, from down the hall you can see another police officer standing guard and you look behind you to see if yours is still following you. He is. He looks up at you when he sees you turn around. 

“You okay?” He asks, also looking behind him to see if you saw something. 

“Yeah, I just…” you trail off, watching the other officer again. He doesn’t look like he’s standing outside your room, he’s too far away. He’s further down the hall, near to where you had stopped to let the nurse go in front of you. 

A slow realization dawns on you then. Who else could it be? 

Continuing on, albeit at a much slower pace, you stop once again at your room. Wordlessly, the officer assigned to you retakes his post, but you don’t push open the door to go back inside. You hesitate, staring down the hallway. 

“Jiyeon?” You quietly call her, moving closer to the nurse’s station. 

Her head pops up from her computer again, at the ready. The light from the screen reflects in her eyes, making them partially glow white and blue. 

“Who’s in that room?” You ask, already knowing the answer. You just want it confirmed. 

Jiyeon follows where you’re pointing with her eyes and leans forward slightly to speak quieter. “I can’t tell you who, hon. Patient confidentiality.” 

You bite your lip. 

“If I know who it is…” you begin, “are you able to tell me if I’m allowed to see him?” 

Jiyeon looks back over towards the room and the cop that guards it. You can almost see her thinking, recalling protocol and hospital rules. 

“It’s Mingi, right?” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Honey, I’m just not sure it’s a good idea for you to see him,” she says gently. “Actually, I really doubt that they’ll let you in.” 

You rest your arms on the desk, picking at your nails again. “I know it’s not a good idea,” you agree. You understand completely. Honestly you’re rather bewildered that you’re even asking to see him. “I just… I don’t know.” 

Jiyeon sighs, looking up at you apologetically. It’s not her fault. Again, you understand. And maybe it’s for the best that you can’t see him. Maybe he doesn’t want to see you, and then what? More chaos, more heartache, more trouble than you need right now. Even so, that nagging tugs at you. 

“Is it possible for me to maybe write him something?” 

At that, Jiyeon looks down at her computer again, like the answers are on the screen. She hums as she thinks. 

“Possibly. Whatever you write will have to be approved by these guys,” she says, gesturing to the officer outside your door and the one outside his, “so keep that in mind. Some things may be redacted.”

You nod, looking back at the officer outside Mingi’s door one more time. 

“Alright,” you say, turning on your heel and disappearing back into your room for the night. 

You set about writing your message to him right away, using the new journal and pen that Seonghwa had given to you from the boys. Although, you do spend a majority of the evening staring at a blank sheet of paper. Luckily, the nurse that brings in your dinner doesn’t ask what you’re doing or who you’re writing to. She minds her business, setting your food down with a small smile and a quiet ‘of course’ when you thank her. 

The words don’t come easily, and you don’t expect them to. Dozens and dozens of potential things you want to say to him come to mind, but none of them sound or do any good. It has to be short and simple if you want to avoid any potential redactions, but also carry meaning. You dig deep, searching for what you truly want to say. If you were allowed to go into his room and see him, and say anything to his face, what would it be? 

Your pen moves not too long after you ask yourself that. 

You deliver the note to Jiyeon, on the off-chance she is allowed to bring it to Mingi’s room and she sets it down by her keyboard with a promise that she will have the officers look it over. With a small nod of acknowledgement, you wish her a goodnight and settle down in your room for the last time. 

A part of you wishes you had time to look around Yunho’s bedroom the same way you’re taking in the hospital suite you’ve been in for the past week and a half. Just to say goodbye to it, but how were you supposed to know you’d never return there? You sigh as you tuck yourself in one more time even though it’s still pretty early – not yet eight-thirty – and you admire the patterns of light on the floor coming from the hallway and the television. The volume is low in case you wake up in the middle of the night, you don’t want to wake up to dead silence. That’s almost as bad as not being able to see. 

But you sleep soundly, letting the occasional quiet beeps from the machines lull you. 

And with perfect timing, with twenty minutes left to spend in visiting hours, Seonghwa knocks on your door. 

He ignores the side-eye from the cop by your door as much as he can, adjusting his face mask even higher up on his nose so the top of it grazes his bottom lashes. Those dark circles under his eyes from his injury never quite went away on account of the lack of sleep lately. When he pushes open the door, he freezes in place. You’re turned on your side, facing the door, and he can tell that you’re asleep. He hesitates, not sure if he should come in anyway or just turn around and leave. He knows you have an early flight tomorrow. 

Just five minutes, he tells himself. 

Leaving the door open as instructed, he quietly makes his way over to the chair by your bed. You don’t stir. You look peaceful… healed, at least physically. The lines on the heart monitor jump in a standard, healthy rhythm, and there’s some plumpness to your skin now. It no longer clings to your bones. It’s nice to see you like this.  

He definitely stays longer than five minutes, just watching you sleep. He feels like a creep for doing so, but he can’t help but hope that you’ll just wake up on your own and know that he came back to say goodbye. In his head he replays all of your shared time together, internally apologizing to you for all the chances he had of getting you out sooner rather than later, and wishing that he could’ve done more to help. He stares at the fading, leftover patches of bruises around your neck that he put there until his eyes unfocus and his vision blurs. He lifts the heel of his hand to his temple, pressing it there for a second to combat any oncoming dizziness. It’s an internal battle to not cry. He doesn’t feel like he really deserves to. 

There’s some murmuring outside your door, and he looks up at the clock to check the time. Five minutes after nine. Time to go. Jiyeon knocks as she comes in. 

“Visiting hours are over,” she politely informs him. 

Seonghwa fixes his jacket for no reason. “Right. I’m sorry,” he says as he stands, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything and leaves without another word. 

Jiyeon catches him in the hallway before he gets to the elevators. “Mr. Park,” she calls softly, jogging after him to close the distance. 

He looks over his shoulder, then turns around to face her, awaiting some sort of scolding for staying later than allowed. He’ll take it. 

“I’m sorry–” he starts to say, but Jiyeon cuts him off. 

“I wanted to thank you. I think you played a big part in her recovery,” she says sincerely. Her words startle him, catching him off guard. It’s definitely not what he was expecting to hear. Seonghwa doesn’t meet her eyes anymore, choosing to inspect the tiled floor instead. 

Of course, he denies this. “I didn’t do that much… all I did was upset her each time I came.” 

“You remind her of a very difficult part of her life,” Jiyeon says bluntly, not one to sugarcoat, “one that will stay with her forever. But, you’re also part of the reason that she’s safe. You helped to get her out.” 

Seonghwa shakes his head, refusing to accept any responsibility of aiding in your rescue. He’s part of the problem that you escaped. Jiyeon steps closer, trying to make him look at her. 

“Whether you realize it or not, you’re probably one of the only truly safe people she has right now,” She says. “You’re very important to her.” 

He keeps his head down, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching his shoulders. 

“ I–I didn't do enough,” he says, his voice betraying him by breaking right at the beginning of his sentence. 

Every pent up emotion hits him then. Right there in the middle of the hospital hallway, under bright, accusatory fluorescent lights, outside of your room where he believes he put you, even if he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. By not informing the police beforehand, he believes that he is part of the reason you were hurt, indirectly or directly. He promised you that night that you’d be okay. He told you to trust him. Every bottled up feeling suddenly demands to be felt. His stress threatens to make him explode like a pressure cooker. 

Jiyeon cautiously places her hand on his back, guiding him into an empty office area and sitting him down. She fills a paper cup with water and hands it to him, advising him to breathe. 

“I’ll never be able to m-make it up to her,” he says, close to crumpling the cup in his grip. “I told her she w-wouldn’t get hurt and–”

He stops in the middle, too ashamed of himself to continue. Glancing at the clock, he winces, knowing his manager is probably wondering where the hell he is. He won’t come looking for him though… the whole KQ staff have kind of stopped talking to them unless absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, he feels bad for making him wait. 

“From what she’s told me, you did your absolute best to protect her. You kept showing up for her, even now, and that will help her heal in the long term. It’ll remind her that she had someone good by her side at the end of all this.” 

Seonghwa sniffles quietly, running a hand through his hair and pausing halfway through. 

“She still got hurt though,” he says dejectedly. “She got hurt by saving me. I didn’t deserve such kindness from her… I didn’t deserve to be saved. It should’ve been me instead.” 

“She’s alive,” Jiyeon reminds him, “and she’s going home tomorrow because of you. Because of all of you. She didn’t even have to think before she chose to save you. Doesn’t that tell you all you need to know about how much she cares about you? Don’t make her decision meaningless by saying that you didn’t deserve it.” 

A beat passes. 

Seonghwa nods once, slowly, like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s agreeing to just yet, but maybe one day he will. Her words imbed themselves within his mind, branding into his brain and sticking with him for the foreseeable future. 

You’re alive. You’re going home tomorrow. 

Except for two snags, not including his own injury, the plan was successful. They achieved what they set out to do: free you from Yunho. They got you out. The risks involved in said plan were well-known, and they knew the level of danger they’d be exposed to if things went south. Despite it all, you and Mingi are both alive and recovering, and Yunho is where he should be: in jail awaiting trial. 

Jiyeon hands him a tissue box from one of the desks, and he plucks one from it to blow his nose. He calms down gradually, and she lets him take his time. Glancing up at the clock again, he stands abruptly. He’s way over time now. He wouldn’t be surprised if his manager left him there. 

“Oh– I should go,” he says, but doesn’t break for the door just yet. Again, he pats his pockets to make sure he has everything, and pauses when he dips a hand into the one in his jacket. He pulls out a small, torn piece of paper with a number scribbled on it. He’d forgotten to leave this in your room. Dammit. 

“I’m sorry, could you please give this to her?” He asks, “It’s… it’s just in case she wants to keep in contact. If you don’t think it’s a good idea though, it may not help her recovery–” he rambles, overthinking. 

Jiyeon interrupts him, “Y’know what? Why don’t you stay with her tonight. I think she’d like that. You can give it to her yourself.” 

Seonghwa blinks before bowing to her, thanking her sheepishly. 

She waves him off, guiding him out of the room and back down the hall to your room. She exchanges a few quiet words with your room guardian, letting him know what’s going on. He side-eyes Seonghwa again, but luckily, says nothing.    

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says to her again when she turns back to him, “really. For everything.” 

“Of course. Have a good night, Mr. Park.” Jiyeon says with a small wave, already starting to head back to the nurse’s station. 

Seonghwa sends a quick text to his manager and takes off his face mask, taking a deep breath before placing his hand on the doorhandle. 

This time, your back is facing him as he walks in and you stir when the door is opened again. You sleepily rub your eyes and make a small noise upon hearing someone come in. A nurse, you assume. You lazily drape your arm out to the side to make it easier for her to check your vitals or something. They always need your arm out for some reason or another. 

Instead, someone sits in the chair. Someone takes off their jacket. A familiar scent of cologne hits your nose and your eyes snap open. 

“Hello?” You ask, confused. 

“Hi, angel,” he says quietly, taking your hand that you reach for him with. 

“What time is it?” You mumble, looking around the bed for your phone. 

“Late,” Seonghwa says with the slightest twinge of a laugh, “they’re gonna let me stay the night with you. Is that alright?” 

You nod immediately, worried he’ll change his mind within the millisecond of time between him ending his sentence and you responding. A small grin plays on his lips. 

“I’ll stay up–” You start to push yourself upright, but he stops you.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll just…” He scoots the chair closer and leans forward, resting his head on his arms. You worry about his back, though. This position can’t be good for his neck either. 

You pull his arm towards you until he sits on the bed. Closer, but not what you’re trying to get him to do. Sure, you could outright say what you want, but you’re tired and admittedly still shy around him. So you scoot over, to the very edge of your bed to make room for him. He sighs as he hesitates, and eventually gives in. You unsuccessfully hide your victorious – and honestly, shocked – smile as he gets in next to you in the cramped space. You throw your blanket over him and both of you turn on your sides to face each other. Draping your arm over his shoulder, you play with his hair on the nape of his neck. His eyes flutter closed, allowing himself to relax. He keeps his hands to himself, not assuming that you want to be touched in any way until you tell him. 

You breathe him in, snuggling closer to his chest, silently giving him his answer. Your free hand finds one of his, guiding it over your body. The comforting weight of it calms you just as well as any sedative. He presses you close, dropping his arm down towards your lower back, and sneaking his right arm under your neck to embrace you properly like this. You sleepily smile into his chest. His hair is soft between your fingers. The added heat from his body makes the cold hospital room perfectly warm. 

You fall back asleep in no time at all.   

And so does he. 

In the meantime, your little note does make its way to Mingi’s room. The only thing the officers decide to redact is your name at the end. He’ll know it’s from you, but he will be denied that small verification at the bottom of the page. He won’t get to see you or say a proper goodbye. He knows, though, that he doesn’t deserve to. This little note is the best he’s going to get, and he’s grateful nonetheless.  

Mingi, 

Though I may not feel this way 100% right now, I know in time I will mean what I write wholeheartedly:

I forgive you. 

Thank you for helping me.

– ◼/◼  

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The morning is rather busy. 

Busier like it had been when you first woke up here. Your parents arrive first thing, bags packed and passports already at the ready. You can tell they can’t wait to leave. To bring you home. The butterflies in your stomach are rather agitated at the thought. ‘Pre-flight nerves’, you refer to them as when your mom asks why you’re so antsy. 

Seonghwa had left an hour before they got there, around five in the morning. You had set your alarm at that time to give yourself some time alone, to mentally prepare for the day ahead. Instead, that time was spent exchanging Kakao IDs and resuming playing with his hair. Time seemed against you, moving faster than it ever had here before. Each minute seemed to last ten seconds. 

He squeezed your hand tight before he left. You can still feel it now. 

Much to your surprise, Agent Jang comes into your room ten minutes before you’re due to leave, carrying a lumpy bag. You hadn’t expected to see her again. Your parents greet her warmly, eyeing what she has in her hand. 

“Your clothes,” she explains to you, “from when you were first admitted here.” 

All you can think to say in response is “Ah.” 

She sets it down on one of the chairs and asks how you’re doing. The two of you actually have a nice little conversation for a couple of minutes before she has to go back to the station. You wish her luck as she walks out. For what exactly, you’re not sure, but you think the sentiment of what you said makes itself known. She wishes you all the best and steps out, nodding to the morning shift officer guarding your door. His shift will be short today, although he is going to be accompanying you to the airport. Then, airport security will take you and your parents through.   

“I’ll go through them on the plane,” you decide, gesturing to the bag and the presents that all three of you managed to somehow stuff into an extra suitcase and your carry-on. You read some of the tags. None of them are from Yunho.  

Your mom crosses her arms, looking at it like it’s a bug. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I’ll be fine.”

“I just… I don’t want you to be triggered and then we don’t know how to help you.” 

You sigh, but not in annoyance. This could very well happen, and happen while you’re 30,000 feet in the air with no escape. But you’re stronger now. “That’ll happen anyway. Doesn’t matter when, really. I’ll tell you how to help me.” 

Unconvinced and wary, your mom lets it go. She trusts you on this. You’re the expert on you. 

Jiyeon isn’t working this morning, but she did leave you a little card for Mijoo to give to you. You’ll read it later, right now your parents are checking their phones and watches over and over, silently telling you it’s almost time to leave.  

You thank the staff as you pass them in the hallways, stealing a glance down towards Mingi’s room again before stepping into the elevator and descending down, back into the world. You don a face mask and sunglasses, feeling a bit like Seonghwa, and tie your hair up. The last thing you want is for people to easily see what you look like now. 

As expected and dreaded, the airport is swarming with reporters and devastated fans who all want a glimpse of the girl who survived the idol. Luckily, you’re well hidden by your parents and the officers protecting you. You’re on autopilot until you actually board the plane, ascending and accelerating towards the clouds. 

The mini screen helps the ride go by a lot faster. You alternate between movies, listening to the music and closing your eyes, and just resting your head against the window, watching the clouds drift below. You sleep for about an hour, and when you wake up, the plane has already begun its initial descent. Home. Your skin starts to itch again. 

To distract yourself, you reach into your carry on for that bag Agent Jang gave you and the note from Jiyeon. Your mother next to you takes her AirPods out, but says nothing to deter you from looking through it. She’ll just keep a close eye on you, watching for any signs of incoming distress while your dad is passed out, still asleep next to her. 

The note from Jiyeon is short and sweet, wishing you all the best, and signing her name with a little drawing of a bunny on the side of it. You pass it to your mom so she can read it, and then you start in on the bag. 

The clothes themselves are wrinkled from being in the snow for so long and not being dried properly. You don’t unfold your sweater, not particularly keen on seeing the hole where the bullet ripped through the fabric. The pants are bloodstained on the waistband. Your socks are crumpled like your sweater, soaked through and sad looking. You shove the socks and sweater back into the bag, curiosity over. But you feel something in the pants front pocket. Your eyebrows furrow together, not knowing what this could be. 

But the second your fingers touch it, you know exactly what it is. And who it belonged to. 

You pull the rosary out slowly, almost bead by bead until you’re holding it up in front of your face. The cross at the bottom points directly down towards the bloodstains.    

“Who’s is that?” You hear your mom ask through the roar of the engines and your screaming thoughts. 

Quickly, you lie. “Seonghwa’s.” 

Though visibly tense, she doesn’t say anything further. You’ve told them a little about him. They’re not particularly crazy about him, as they have a harder time seeing him for anything other than being part of the group that took and had access to you. She looks at it like she wants to chuck it out of the plane window. If only she knew who it really belongs to.

You put the pants back in the bag, holding onto the rosary for the remainder of the flight. 

The cold metal burns your skin the whole way down.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Eight months later…

The sun warms your skin as it blinds you. 

You cover it with your hand as much as you can, squinting and blinking away the eye floaters that creep into your field of vision. Cars rush past, threatening to splash you from the puddles left overnight. It had been an impressive storm, but you slept through most of it. 

The sunlight that reflects off the building makes it look like it’s sparkling all over. You remember this place well; at least, the interior of it. You lower your hand and look across the street, heading the opposite direction. The walking signal shines for the pedestrians and you join the crossing groups of people seamlessly. 

Seoul in September is always pretty. 

That certain floor and apartment right at the very top look down upon you. They didn’t think they’d ever see you again. Last they saw of you, you were being driven out to the woods again. They should’ve known. You’re the only one who survived the woods… twice. 

Sadly, there’s no time to gloat or reminisce, as you’re currently running to find your Uber before they drive off. 

Once located, you confirm your names with each other and situate yourself in the backseat of the car. It’s rather nice, and you double check that you didn’t accidentally pay for the Uber Black or something. You’re thankful for the strong air conditioning. Tucked under your thigh, your phone vibrates a few times but you ignore it – you already know it’s your mother texting you for the hundredth time today. She has your location on like she did last year, but now she wants live updates in real time of how you’re doing and where you’re going and who with, every possible detail. 

You had to really plead your case to her and your father to let you come back. 

Before the entire question was even finished, they flat out forbade you from coming back, especially by yourself. It took a lot of persuasion, a couple big fights, multiple reminders that you’re an adult, and a promise to be monitored at all times while there, but eventually they allowed you to fly back. You’re staying at a nice hotel in the heart of the city, somewhere you’re rather familiar with. Yet another topic of discussion you had to fight over. They wanted you to stay with your old roommates, but you vehemently opposed this – you didn’t want to infringe on their lives by staying with them and make them have to babysit you all hours of the day. That’s not fair to them. You did agree to spend the first two nights back in Seoul at their apartment, though. 

You’re 99% sure your mom is also keeping in touch with them as well. 

Holding in an exasperated sigh at the fourth and fifth buzz of your phone, you shoot a quick text to your mom as proof of life and safety, screenshotting the route you’re taking to your hotel to check into your room. She reads the text immediately and answers with a thumbs up emoji. It’s both comforting and suffocating that you know she’s watching your location at this very moment. It reminds you of where you were last year at this time. 

Driver tipped, bags collected, and key handed over, you finally flop down on the plush hotel bed, sighing into the memory foam. You’re looking forward to these next two hours spent alone before you go back out again. You definitely need them. 

You unpack, taking your time to set everything where you want it around the room, quietly enjoying how therapeutic small stuff like this feels. Habitually though, you do check in the upper corners of the walls, in the lamps, and in the bathroom for hidden cameras. Every search conducted ends in the same result: finding none. It’s one habit you’ve yet to fully shake off. Another one is how you tend to freeze when you hear people outside of your room, even muting the TV so no one can hear you inside. Once the sound of their voices fade away, you’re okay again. 

You try to tighten up. You have to, especially today. 

After sending your mom a picture of you, safe in the hotel room, she finally relents and leaves you alone. It’s annoying, but it’s what you agreed on in order to be here, so you force yourself to not roll your eyes every time your phone goes off. 

You spend the next hour sitting on the floor in front of your suitcase, looking down at it like the right outfit will just jump out at you. It’s not that you’re trying to look good, just… confident. Confident and put together without overstating it. You rummage through the shirts, pants, socks, and one dress you brought with you, but none of them feel right. Now only thirty minutes before you have to leave, you give up on it for the time being and just focus on your hair and makeup. 

Even though you want to, you can’t bring yourself to wash your face. There are good days and bad days when it comes to water, and today is one of those bad days. Instead, you run one of the hand towels under the sink and lightly dab your face with it to feel more refreshed. You forego winged eyeliner simply because your hands are shaking too much and you don’t have time to make them match, and then find yourself brushing your hair right back where you started, standing in front of the open suitcase without a clue of what to wear. In the end, you just decide on some baggy jeans and a hoodie. 

You text your mom that you’re gonna nap and stay in the hotel the rest of your night, and switch your phone completely off. 

Sunglasses on and purse in hand, you’re out the door.  

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You’re very hyper-aware of your skin. 

Specifically how your clothes feel on your skin, brushing up against it. Your chest hurts. Stress causes some pain flares from time to time, so you’re used to the feeling, but it doesn’t make it any less comfortable. You lightly trace your collarbone through your hoodie with your knuckles, just to ground yourself more. It tells you that nothing is touching your chest or your neck. 

You’re glad you chose the hoodie because it is freezing in here. The cold metal of the chair seeps through the fabric of your jeans and takes a while to warm up as you wait. Your nails tap against the metal table in front of you. It’s a rather small room, only two other ‘booths’ like the one you’re sitting at now, and dim. You run your hands up and down your arms to self-soothe and to warm yourself up. Your anxiety grows more and more the longer they make you wait. 

Maybe you shouldn’t’ve come here. This was a mistake of gigantic proportions, and you know it. Your hands start to itch instead of soothe. Your bottom lip is already bitten to hell, and you stand up, ready to leave and forget you ever even tried to do this.

But the door opens. 

And there he is. 

You freeze in place, no longer as put together as you tried to appear. Instead, you’re right back into who you were last year. Your heart hammers against your ribs, trying to escape through them to get as far away from him as it can. You wish your feet would follow. 

The rattling and jingling of his handcuffs hitting the small table as he sits opposite you make your ears ring and static erupts in your brain. All systems sound the alarm: danger, danger, danger, get out. But you block it out. There’s glass in between you, he can’t hurt you. 

You take a small step forward, back towards the chair you were just in. He watches you like a snake would a mouse.  

A heavy sound behind him informs you both that the guard has left, the door shutting behind him. The air around you feels thick, like you have to double your efforts just to breathe normally. 

He still looks just as handsome as he did when you last saw him. Dammit. 

The metal of the chair scrapes unpleasantly against the floor as you sit back down, ignoring the giant lump forming in your throat. For a moment, you still can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you can feel the weight of his stare. You’re glad you chose this baggy, loose-fitting outfit. Subconsciously chosen so that he couldn’t see your body. Yunho makes a face as he looks at your outfit as he sits there, waiting for you to say something. You can tell that he disapproves. 

Your entire body starts to feel feverish the longer you prolong this. 

“Hi…” you mumble, clearing your throat right after. 

Yunho tsk’s, waiting for a certain word to accompany that greeting. You know which one. You look down at your lap, picking at the skin around your nails. If you thought you felt hot before, it’s nothing compared to now as a fierce blush blooms across your cheeks, warming your whole face. 

“I’m not supposed to call you that anymore,” you inform him, still not quite meeting his eyes. He seems to tower over you even while sitting. Was that always the case or did he get taller? 

Yunho places his elbows down on the little table and rests his chin on the heels of his hands. The little chain linking the cuffs pulls taut. “Mhm. And who told you that?” 

“T-the… my…” you trail off, unable to speak. The words ‘the officers’ and ‘my psychologist’ just die on your tongue. 

Yunho smirks, knowing the effect he’s having on you. 

“Why are you here, baby?” He purrs, tilting his head to one side. 

The pet name makes your skin crawl and a dark part of your mind sing. Your hands begin to shake again, but you just sit on them, trying to remain calm and strong. At least externally. You can do this. 

You’re in control. 

He’s the one behind bars – well, glass at the moment. He can’t get to you physically, and if he tries, the two guards keeping watch of your visit will tear you away from him before you could even blink. It’s like seeing a shark at the aquarium. Protected and kept apart by the glass, you know you’re safe, but there’s always the same thought that looms in the back of your mind: if the glass suddenly disappears, you’re in his element. At his mercy. Would you scream and kick for the surface, or would you just succumb to him like you used to? An hour ago you were sure of which one you’d pick. Now, you’re not so sure. Not while face to face with the threat itself. 

Despite this, there’s a reason you came to see him. You have something for him. 

Instead of verbally responding to his question, you simply reach into your pocket and pull out his rosary. His eyes widen at the sight of it. So that’s where it’s been this whole time. 

“This belongs to you,” you murmur, stating the obvious. “I w-wanted to return it.” 

You can tell you’ve gotten under his skin this time. You don’t feel smug or proud about it. No matter how thick the glass is, you’re still afraid of him. Of all people, you know exactly what he’s capable of. He doesn’t need to touch you to hurt you. 

He lowers his hands back down, drumming his fingers on the table. The sound makes your skin crawl. You gently place it down in front of you. He almost reaches for it, like he forgot the glass is there for a second before retracting his hand, cracking his knuckles in quiet and controlled frustration. 

“How thoughtful,” he hums, his voice tight. 

Involuntarily, you blush again, your lips parting to thank him for such small praise. You nervously run a hand through your hair, trying to pass it off as nothing. The air shifts. The power dynamic between the two of you skews even further towards him.  

The smirk that slowly grows on his face is pure evil. Sickly sweet, manipulative. Your skin crawls, waves of adrenaline zip down your spine and into your legs, every instinct telling you to get out there now. 

“You missed me, didn’t you?” He sneers, leaning forward to get even more into your space. He lazily gestures to the rosary, “Just wanted to see me again?” 

Unwilling to back down from him, you ignore those instincts. You stay put, right where you are. You pull the collar of the hoodie away from your neck, suddenly feeling rather suffocated.

“No.” You say as firmly as you can, not offering him anything more to work with. A simple ‘no’ is good enough. 

He laughs, his amusement evident. “You’re not being very nice to me, are you?” 

“I j-just… I n-needed to see you in h-here,” your voice wobbles a little as you stammer. You’re unable to think or speak clearly. It’s like your mind’s been suddenly placed on pause, slamming on the brakes while going one hundred miles an hour. You try to remember if you had been like this when he first took you. This pathetic. “I don’t have t-to be nice to you.”  

“Look at you,” he smirks, leaning back in his chair, without a single care in the world. Superior to you even now. “Acting so high and mighty all of a sudden. Already forgotten who’s in charge, huh?” His voice lowers in volume on the last sentence spoken, leveling you with just a sharp glare. 

You shake your head, refusing to let him get in your head like this. Not without a fight.  “You’re not in ch-charge of me anymore.” 

Yunho doubles down, his voice a soft purr. The same timbre he used to make you forgive him for almost drowning you in the bath. Sympathetic, warm, caring, safe. 

“Aww, poor baby. Is it hard to have nobody telling you what to do anymore? Bet you miss that structure, don’t you?” 

“Stop it,” you snap at him, though there’s not a lot of edge to your voice. “I’m not yours.” 

“Yes you are. You keep waiting for me to praise you… is that what you want? Need my validation? Need to know I don’t hate you for ratting me out to the police?”  

“I only came back for Seonghwa.” You say before you can stop yourself. One of your hands flies up to your mouth before hesitating, twitching in the space between your mouth and your lap. Using every single ounce of courage, your eyes flick up to garner his reaction. 

You’ve seen that look before. 

Through fire, water, earth, and air, you’ve seen it. You’ve never been so grateful to have a thick pane of glass separating you from him. 

From the cold metal of the room, you can smell the forest again. The water burns your throat and nose. The snow freezes your skin. The flames lick at your legs. 

His jaw twitches and he laughs once, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s no readable expression on his face, not that he lets you see. His hands curl into fists and he hides them in his lap. His bangs cover his eyes as he looks down, jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“Park fucking Seonghwa…” he says under his breath, shaking his head in amused disbelief.  

Your hand massages your throat, trying to ease the lump in there. He can’t hurt you. You can leave any time. 

So why aren’t you? 

You came all the way here to give his rosary back to him, to see him in jail with your own eyes in an attempt to stop your nightmares and paranoia. You’ve done what you set out to do. Leave. 

However, you’re glued to your seat, and you start to wonder if he’s right in some of the things he’s saying. Are you still seeking his validation? Even though you wanted to come across as confident and better off without him, that charade quickly vanished upon seeing him again. You instantly retreated back into your timid, obedient self that took months to shed off of your normal behavior. Back at square one, you can’t stop the brutal self-deprecating thoughts that berate and jeer at your failure. How easily you crumble in front of him. How small you feel when his eyes are on you. The past months of work you’ve put in with your therapist and the fruition of progress you’ve been so proud of disappear altogether as if they never happened. As if you never left. 

You steal another glance at him, and fight against the intensely strong urge to comfort him, clarify what you meant. You hate seeing him upset, especially when you’re to blame for it. He looks so dejected… you’ve never seen him like this. There’s no fire within him anymore, not like before. You have to really force yourself to not say anything to him. It’s none of his business what your relationship with Seonghwa is or is not, especially when you aren’t even sure. 

You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, smudging the mascara and eyeliner. 

Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry, not in front of him. 

You inhale sharply, trying to collect yourself and keep the tears at bay as long as you can. In all honesty, you just want to put your head down on the little table and scream. You don’t have to explain yourself to him. You don’t owe him anything, right? 

It’s a question that’s still hard to answer. Obviously you don’t owe him anything, not a damn thing. But you can’t block out the quiet moments you two shared as easily. The good times you had were so good, even if they will never come close to cancelling out the bad. You think, at least for a period of time, you may have actually loved him. Or, felt something quite close to it. Maybe that’s why you want to explain yourself to him, because you still can’t fully deny that you don’t feel anything towards him anymore. You doubt you’ll ever really know. It’s not that simple. Trying to move on from a man who would burn the entire world for you is not something easily done. 

The most terrifying realization you’ve had to face at home was feeling that you may never feel as strongly for someone other than Yunho ever again. 

Your shoulders hunch and you shrink in the chair, chin to chest.   

What you don’t see as you bow your head, is the drastic and visible change in Yunho. No longer smug or condescending, he becomes distant as he holds back his true emotions. Head down as well, his eyes search the floor, his lap, his hands. For what exactly, he himself isn’t even sure. For once, he doesn’t have a quick, lashing reply to give back to you. He bites the inside of his cheek. He slouches in the chair. 

Another fantasy dragged back into harsh reality. Disintegrating right in front of him. Again. 

Because as much as he denied it, and despite what he has told you… Yunho really does love you. 

You were never nothing to him, you were everything. Telling you that he only loved broken things turned out to not be true. Not exactly. At one time, he thought it was true, but he realized he was only talking through his anger and frustration. Not from any substantial meaning. No, he only let you in as deep as he let anyone else get, just surface level. Treading the water there so he can keep an eye on everyone he allows in. You were dangerously close to venturing further, getting to the very heart of him. 

He denied himself of you. From seeing you that night in the convenience store, he denied himself of you. 

Call it an act of self-sabotage, or that he didn’t know what he was in for, but he saw something in you that none of the others had. A certain spark, a glow, not just potential for his own sick view of what he could shape you into, but also a strength that told him you can persevere. Kindness, humility, beauty, and a natural magnetic attraction that damn near pulled all the members towards you. Of course Mingi fell for you. And now Seonghwa… 

Surprisingly, he’s not mad. Not at all. Actually, for the first time, he feels quite defeated. Seeing you past the glass only confirmed that he’ll never have you the way his soul wants. A rather delusional part of him thinks you still want him. That you’ll always want him. That you love him. 

He needs to hear you say it so bad. So bad. 

But he won’t ask you. He won’t even entertain the thought. Not when there’s a chance you’ll refuse to say it – he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle that. 

So what can he do? He can either push you away and come to his own conclusions based on how easy it is for you to leave, or he can push you harder, see if you’ll break for him again. Neither one reaps many benefits for either of you. It’s just another assessment of loyalty. Another test. 

“Why are you here?” Yunho asks you again. 

The rosary starts to turn cold on the table. You don’t have an answer for him. The words just won’t come together in the right order, nor do they hold the depth of what you want to attempt to convey to him. Nothing fits or sounds good enough. Each choice is just as cold and lifeless as this room you’re in, void of any real meaning. None of them hold any weight. 

Is there anything worth saying at all? 

“I’m not…” you swallow hard, knowing that he’s staring at you without needing to look up and verify, “I’m not afraid of you anymore.” 

This silence is different. Instead of coming back immediately with a quip or smug response, he simply lets what you said fully process. He really does seem different. It’s the same kind of mental distance you experienced with him when you and Mingi were still close. Jealousy? Maybe, but you don’t want to assume. For all you know, he could just be pissed off that you’re presumably giving your free attention to Seonghwa instead of him now. He must think you’ve completely abandoned him – which, you know you should do, and yet here you are. But again, Yunho doesn’t know how that specific relationship with you and Seonghwa works. 

What you say is true, for the most part. There’s a large part of you that still hungers for his approval, yearns for his touch, misses the idea of him. And there’s another part of you that is comforted knowing that he cannot dictate your life anymore, nor touch you like that ever again. The idea of him you hold onto is your own fantasy, conjured up by the fleeting and counterfeit imitations of care and love that he showed you. Seeing him in here does calm your nervous system though, it tells your paranoid mind that he really is locked in here. He can’t get to you. There are dozens of people, several laws, and physical distance between you that will not allow him to touch you again. The thick glass and the handcuffs aid this thinking as well. 

For Yunho, all he can hear is white noise and a sentence he’s haunted himself with for almost a year. His lips press together. He can’t be too surprised that you really were afraid of him the whole time, but again that delusional side of him has been very convincing. It was so easy to believe in his own lie until Mingi derailed it with one fatal blow. Just six words. Now here you are in front of him, speaking freely as yourself for the first time since last February, telling him that you’re not afraid of him. 

He’s almost split in half. One side glowing, singing that now you can love him, there’s nothing holding you back from it now, and the other realistic side of him shooting all of that nonsense down. He can’t ignore reality forever. 

One of your hands rests on the table, drumming your fingers close to the rosary. He subconsciously mirrors you. Tap, tap, tap. 

When he doesn’t say anything for another few silent minutes, you pick your purse up from the floor, placing it in your lap. “I should go…” 

Yunho wants nothing more than to jump up and beg you to stay with him. So, he doesn’t. He keeps control, clenching his fists tight, knowing he’s solely to blame for how he ended up. If he was just a little more careful… 

He watches you stand, the scraping sound of the chair against the floor digging into his ears. Once again, he holds back what he really wants to say. 

“I’ll um–” you pick up the rosary, gesturing over to the guard. Why won’t he speak to you? You shift your weight, not wanting to leave like this. You’ve always been the type to not rest so easy knowing that you’ve said something that hurts someone. Even someone like him. 

Ready to go, you don’t move. You don’t knock on the door to let the guard know that you want to leave. You have an idea of why he’s gone so quiet. 

“We’re not– Seonghwa and I… it isn’t like that.” You tell him, not as eloquently as you wanted to be. 

But it does invoke a response of some nature. A single nod, indicating that he understands as simply as possible. 

You continue, “I’m not ready for that kind of thing yet.”

“‘Yet’,” Yunho echoes, surprising you by replying quickly this time. “But you will. One day.” 

He sniffs, leaning back in the chair. The rest of his sentence goes unsaid, insinuated and understood by you. ‘And it won’t be with me’. 

You bite your lip, hand absentmindedly tugging at your sweatshirt, pulling it away from the healed scars on your chest. Your heart is threatening to leak through them.  

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly. Right now, you don’t see yourself getting into any kind of relationship in the near future. You don’t want to. You’re afraid everything will remind you of him. You’re afraid you’ll compare – that fear of never feeling the same level of devotion to someone ever again keeps you alone. 

“You will. And he’ll be there, I’m sure.” Yunho fails to hold back a scoff. His nails dig into his palms, close to breaking skin. “But all he’ll do is remind you of me.”

Your muscles tense. 

There’s a hurt tone to his voice that he tries in vain to hide. Not enough to be obvious unless you knew him quite well… which you do. 

It dawns on you then that the two of you trigger each other so much. He triggers your fears, your perfectionism, your traumas, and you trigger his abandonment issues, his overprotectiveness, and his desperate desire for love. Fake or real. He was so close with you. This time, he felt it. The others told him they loved him like they were reading a line from a book. Too rehearsed, without any feeling. You were the only one who almost convinced him. 

You know he thinks it’s easier to just push you away if he can’t have you the way he wants. 

And suddenly, you think of something worth asking him. 

“Were you going to kill me that night?”

He pauses to keep his true emotions in check. He’s not about to let you read him so easily when it comes to this topic. 

“Which one?” He asks, lazily, trying to come across as unbothered, nonchalant, but his eyes betray him. 

You can see a slight twinge of wariness, like you’re getting too close to the truth of him. Something he’s hidden from everyone else so seamlessly. That’s how you know you’re on the right track, asked the right question. Also, you’d genuinely like to know. Having the answer, fake or real, may help some of the nightmares you keep having ever since that night. 

“The last one,” you clarify quietly. 

He clears his throat, procrastinating by readjusting how he’s sitting in the chair, straightening up and crossing his legs. He feels caught. The handcuffs dig into his wrists. The only way he can keep control is to not give you what you want – a straightforward answer, but instead, he speaks truthfully.

“I don’t know,” he says, his eyes landing on the silver bracelet fastened on your wrist. 

He wonders who gave that to you… it matches his rosary. 

You nod once, knowing that’s the best you’ll get out of him. It does kind of tell you everything you needed to know, though. It pairs well with what you remember from that night, the shock and horror on his face when he realized he shot you instead of his intended target, and his many attempts to try and break out of Jongho’s hold on him to rush to your side. You have your answer. 

And now you’re not sure what to do with it. You’re still standing in front of him like an idiot, leaving and not leaving at the same time.       

His eyes flicker over towards the door on your side of the room. “You should go.”    

That startles you almost, and your feet move immediately, like they were waiting for his permission. You don’t miss how the corner of his mouth twitches, and you’re thankful that this time, he doesn’t point it out. He doesn’t have to. Such a small thing like that all but confirms his delusional side’s way of thinking. He latches onto it quickly as he watches you try to slip through his fingers again. 

Even if you choose Seonghwa down the line, you’ll still be his. When you’re just a step away from the door, he lets you know that. 

“No one will ever love you as much as I do.” 

That nearly kills you. It strikes you harder than a fist or a bullet ever did. Hearing the admission you’d been waiting for for all of last year… it almost makes you crumble completely. You knew it, you knew you were right. 

He loved you, and still does. 

You feel your breath leave your lungs like you’ve been hit there again. Shakily, you turn to look over your shoulder, expecting to see him basking in his small victory, taunting you that his claws are deep in you even after all of this time apart, and that they will continue to be for the foreseeable future. 

Except you don’t see that at all. What you thought was a jeering, condescending comment, doesn’t quite match the look on his face. A mix of a small, knowing smile which you expected, and utter desperation, selfishly hoping you’ll never be able to move on from him, that you’ll always come back to him. As hard as it is to admit it to himself, he needs you. So, he’ll revert back to methods that he knows worked on you once. Manipulation, for one.   

The desperation that he fails to conceal is what gives him away. You stand your ground, refusing to fall for him again. 

“And no one will ever hurt me as much as you have.” You mean to stay strong, but your voice cracks and wobbles halfway through. 

You watch his lips part, his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

He's always had a talent for hand-picking words and placing them in the exact order that will make you remember them for months to come. Maybe even years. You really have learned from the best. 

You tear your eyes away, and it turns out to be the hardest thing to do. Your fist knocks on the door too hard, too urgently. The guard lets you out quickly and asks if you’re okay. You just nod, breathing erratically. He doesn’t believe you, but you’re already walking away, eager to get the hell out of here. Even well past his line of sight, you can somehow still feel Yunho’s eyes on you. Your teeth start to chatter as you collect your phone from one of the guards, barely audibly thanking them as you hitch your purse higher up on your shoulder. You force yourself to walk slower. High stress, high emotions, and high pace can’t be a good combination for your lungs.   

When the sun hits you again, you gasp for the fresh air. The very thing you used to hide from, in this moment, you can’t get enough of it. You sit on a bench outside, hands shakily ordering an Uber that cannot come fast enough. Pressing a hand to your head, you will your body to calm down before you act crazy in front of this poor stranger coming to pick you up. You can imagine the headlines if the driver recognizes you, first of all, and tells the press that you were shaken up after visiting the very same prison Yunho is being kept in. 

Your parents would never let you leave the house ever again, much less the fucking country. 

For a moment you panic, and then remember the time difference. Both of them are surely asleep now, and you relax at the lack of frantic text messages from either of them. Thank god– 

The fresh air helps, a gentle breeze occasionally caressing your hair off of your shoulders. You busy your hands by sending Seonghwa a text. 

Luckily, he responds right away. Unluckily, he asks how your visit went. 

Obviously, he’d been rather opposed to the very idea of you going to see Yunho by yourself. It led to a fight between you, though both of you saw where the other was coming from. He knows you’re an adult and can make your own decisions, and you know that he didn’t want you to give Yunho another chance to hurt you again. When the anger had subsided, he let you know he’d support you no matter what you decide to do. As always. 

By the time the Uber gets there, you still haven’t answered Seonghwa’s question. All you send back is a simple, ‘omw’. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Seonghwa opens the door before you can even knock. 

You duck inside, knowing how bad it’d be if anyone saw you going into his apartment. It’s smaller than the one you were kept in, but a lot more lived in. Signs of life decorated every inch of it. He’d told you it’s taken a while for him to adjust to living alone. Whenever he gets out of the shower, he still sometimes expects to see San curled up in his bed instead of his own down the hall. 

It’s a temporary place. For now, it works. 

You think it’s lovely.  

“Hongjoong came by earlier,” Seonghwa says. “He um… yeah, he just told me to say that he hopes you’re doing okay.” 

You nod, sitting down on his couch. Something tells you there’s more to that, but you don’t press him for details. All you can think to say in response is, “Oh. Well… tell him I said ‘thank you’ and ‘same for you’.” 

“Are you?” 

“Am I?” You ask, tilting your head. 

Seonghwa sits next to you, one cushion over. “Are you okay?” 

You know he wants to know about your visit with Yunho, and you’ll tell him eventually. Right now though, it is the last thing you want to do. You haven’t seen Seonghwa in person since your last day in the hospital, eight months ago. Sitting here, on his couch, not two feet away from each other, all you want is to just… sleep, actually. You want to be held, even though you know it’s selfish to want to ask of him, and fall asleep together like you did last December. Before either of you were hurt. 

You push that need down. 

“I’ll be alright,” you say behind a weak smile. 

He looks like he wants to say something, but ultimately decides against it, keeping his mouth shut. Instead, he places his hand on the cushion between you. He lets you decide whether or not to hold it. 

Of course, you do. 

The reconnection feels like coming home. So many things are conveyed through just a simple touch. Commiserations, apologies, trust, and admissions that you’re both glad to see each other again. It’s a special, impenetrable bond, and for the time being, that’s good enough for both of you. It has to be. There’s still too many things to work out and work through to be anything other than just… two people there for each other. It’s an unspoken arrangement. Neither of you are willing to admit why it’s needed. 

“How are the others?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

Seonghwa leans back, resting against one of the pillows on the couch. “They’re alright. We’re still constantly in touch with each other, so… that’s nice.” 

Well, the six of them are. 

Mingi’s being held in a separate prison on the opposite side of Seoul, on the outskirts of the city. He’ll get out before Yunho does, having taken a plea bargain and willingly cooperated with law enforcement. 

You ask about each of them, where they are and what they’re doing. You’re not surprised to know that they all live quite close to each other. Yeosang and San even live in the same apartment complex. It’s nice to know that they’re all still somewhat together despite everything. You’ve been told about the fight Jongho, Wooyoung and San are leading to keep Yunho in prison for longer than he was sentenced. Without the USB or the files from his laptop, they’re trying to find other forms of evidence to get him charged with homicide, and get justice for the girls and the manager. You’ve seen the mixed social media reactions. Some view it as admirable, others call it performative. 

Hongjoong and Yeosang are both relatively off the radar, intent on maintaining a low profile. This, apparently, is almost normal for both of them. ‘Chronic homebodies’, Seonghwa calls them. Still, you naturally worry about them. 

The three of them are planning to move abroad early next year. Since the three of them were most implicated in the case, the public outrage towards them despite their contributions towards your rescue, and despite your written testimony that they were not privy to the truth of who you were when Yunho introduced them, has proven to be impossible to simply ignore. Not even the ‘chronic homebodies’ want to be sheltered inside forever, anxious about going outside. 

Hopefully western Europe will be more peaceful for them. 

An hour into talking, you’re now curled up on the couch while he plays with your fingers, making small noises of disapproval wherever he sees that you still pick at your nails and the skin around them. He just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself like that. On more than one occasion, he’s threatened to buy you a fidget toy or something to help you stop the habit. 

He closes your hand, setting it down again and rubs his thumb against the back of it. Another hour later, there’s a natural lull in the conversation as the apartment starts to darken. The sun is peeking out from behind some of the taller buildings in Seoul, beginning its early descent. 

The two of you stand in his kitchen as he cooks dinner. He swears he’s gotten better now that he has to fend for himself. The money he’s made from being an idol won’t hold out forever, so he’s trying to be smart about it now and not order takeout so much anymore. He offhandedly says that you should have something that Wooyoung cooks sometime, as he’s the best chef in the group, but he gets quiet afterwards. You don’t push it. 

You eat in the living room, feet tucked under you as Seonghwa flicks through all the options on Netflix. You eat slowly, but you’re almost halfway done before he picks something from the ‘Oscar Winning’ category. It’ll do for now. Good background noise while you eat. He checks in on you twice, asking if the food is actually good or if you’re being nice to him, and offering to get you more. You wave him off playfully both times, likening him to a mother hen. It’s a nice little dynamic. 

Halfway through the movie, the sun has disappeared altogether. You haven’t planned on staying the night with him or anything like that, but he’s not kicking you out either. You look down at your purse on the floor, resting against the couch, making a mental inventory of what you have in there. Wallet, perfume, headphones, fan, gum, pill pouch stocked with Tylenol in case of flare ups, and a portable charger. You sneak a glance at Seonghwa, who’s busy finishing his second serving of food, eyes flicking up from the bowl to watch the movie. It doesn’t feel like you’re intruding, but you hate to overstay your welcome. The unofficial plan you made for this visit was only a couple hours at most. Already, you’re dangerously close to several hours.    

A couple minutes later, Seonghwa collects the empty bowls and dishes that have accumulated on his coffee table, and places them in the sink to wash later. He wants to now, but instead he just lets them soak until the movie is over. You watch him as he walks back to you, sitting himself down a little closer to you than before. 

You don’t allow yourself to think anything of it. Not even when you adjust the way you’re sitting, leaning towards him. If you think about it too much, you know who you’ll hear. You know what you’ll remember. You’d rather keep the world and everyone in it out for as long as you can. Since arriving here, you’ve been doing a pretty good job so far, despite the state you were in when you left the prison earlier. 

It’s comforting knowing that any silence between you isn’t awkward or tense, it’s just natural. Even more comforting to know that you can’t say or do anything that will ever make him lash out or physically hurt you. The bare minimum, you know, but you’re working on it. You just… feel safe with him in the little things. 

That’s the tricky part – the little things, they all pile up, don’t they? 

You know you may have waded too deep when you rest your head on his shoulder and he sighs, letting his body relax more into the couch. You lift up, thinking he may be opposed to you doing that, but he guides you back down, not making a big deal of it. The rest of the movie goes by with the two of you staying just like that. Nothing more, nothing less. 

When the movie ends, you know you should leave. 

You engage in polite small-talk about your assessments of the film, coming to a similar conclusion about it: ‘pretty good’. His eyes glance up towards the kitchen sink, and he bites his lip. 

“Would you mind if I washed the dishes really fast?” He asks. 

“Oh, no, go ahead,” you say, sitting up straight to let him go. “I can um… I should probably go back to my hotel.” 

Seonghwa stops mid-stride to turn around and look at you. 

“Oh–” he starts to say but pauses for a moment, wrestling with his inner monologue on what to say next. He looks at the digital clock on the oven. “It’s um…”

“Yeah… I don’t want to intrude.” You smile weakly, gathering your purse. It’s not that late yet, but you’re not terribly keen on going back by yourself in the dark if you can avoid it. 

Seonghwa fidgets with the hem of his shirt, alternating between looking at you, the kitchen, and the television. You’re not sure what he’s thinking. He hops from one foot to another as you stand from the couch. 

“Hwa?” You check on him, noticing his anxious behavior. It’s rare that you call him by that nickname, but you’re trying to do it more often. 

He scratches the back of his neck, stuck in his own thoughts. 

“I uh… if you want– I mean, you can stay here, if you want.” 

You’d tease him for his eloquence if you weren’t busy processing what he’s saying. Now you’re stuck. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say quietly, looking down at your purse. If you stay, you’d need to ask for so many things from him for the night. Clothes to sleep in for one, a toothbrush, a blanket and pillow for the couch, makeup remover, and… no, not that. You put the end of that thought out of your mind. There’s no need for it, you tell yourself. 

Seonghwa steps closer to you, “No, not intruding at all. I’d like it if you stayed, but… if you’d rather leave then that’s fine too.” 

In danger of sounding too enthusiastic, you make sure he’s being serious about his offer. “Are you sure?”

This time, he just nods. He lets you think it over. 

He watches you place your purse down on the couch. You shyly look back up to him, hoping he’s being serious about his offer. He seems to relax again. A hand reaches out for you to take, which you do, and he leads you into the kitchen. You hop up on the kitchen counter, letting your heels gently hit the cabinets as he washes and dries the dishes. You try to convince him to let you help, at least drying them, but he refuses. 

“A guest shouldn’t have to do any work,” he states. 

When the dishes are done, he brings you into his room so he can get some clothes for you. His room is very… him. That’s the best way you can describe it. You emerge from his closet, in his T-shirt and sweatpants that you roll up so you don’t step on them. He lets you use his bathroom to take your makeup off and tells you there’s a new toothbrush in its packaging in one of the drawers there. That, there is. 

You look away quickly when you place the toothbrush next to his in the little holder. 

Y/N, it’ll never work, you tell yourself. 

He’s back in the living room when you come out of the bathroom, tying your hair up. He looks up at you from the couch and offers a small smile, and your pick for a ‘double feature’ night. You grin as you take the remote from him, sitting next to him and beginning your search. You’ll show him one of your favorites. 

As the movie starts, the two of you resume your earlier positions – you leaning against his shoulder, and him settling back against the couch. This time, he has his arm over the back of the couch, and almost halfway through the movie, he lets it drift closer, but ultimately doesn’t touch you. He’s still so overly cautious. You kind of want him to snap out of it, but at the same time, you feel that much more safe with him. He’ll keep himself close enough to make you feel protected, and not like he’s expecting anything from you. By doing this, he gives you the option to either lean into it or ignore it and keep to yourself. It’s there if you want it, and it’s immediately taken away if you don’t. 

You wouldn’t have such a choice with Yunho… 

By the time the double feature comes to an end, and the credits start to roll up the screen, you’re sleepily smushed into Seonghwa’s side. He gently shakes you and you mumble incoherently that you’re awake while your eyelids lose the fight to stay open. Very convincing. He turns the TV off and takes your hand to help you off the couch. You wake up just enough to stand and rub your eyes.  

“Do you have an extra blanket?” You ask, gesturing to the couch. It’s definitely comfortable enough to sleep on. 

Seonghwa blinks before understanding. “Oh, yeah, I do.” 

He disappears into his room to retrieve it and hands it to you. You wrap it around your shoulders. He shoves his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to say or do in this standstill. He won’t outwardly say what he wants for fear of sounding like Yunho, and you won’t say what you want for fear of making him uncomfortable. The kitchen light casts shadows against both of your faces. You hug the blanket tighter around you. 

It’ll never work. 

The polite exchanges of ‘goodnight’ send you both off to sleep. 

In theory. 

You spend an hour on the couch trying to reclaim the heaviness in your eyelids and the deep relaxation needed in order to sleep, but neither will return. 

Two hours later, still with no success, you give up for the time being and scroll on your phone. However, you exhaust all of your social media apps rather quickly – you don’t follow many people anyway. Phone set back down, you get up and shuffle to the kitchen to get some water. You feel like you’re snooping through his stuff as you try to find a glass to put said water in, and eventually pull open the right cabinet. As you set it down carefully on the counter, you note the time on the oven clock. Almost two-thirty. You groan inwardly, knowing you’re probably in for a sleepless night. 

Oh, well. It’s better than potentially having a nightmare on his couch, you suppose. 

You wince as the cabinet closes a little too loudly, hopefully not disturbing Seonghwa while he sleeps. Trying to be even more quiet, you fill your glass with water and lean against the kitchen counter, just taking in the view of his apartment from there. You like the huge windows in the living room the most. It takes up most of the wall space and boasts a rather pretty view of the city. You take a small sip, the water feeling nice so late at night. Definitely needed. 

There’s some small rustling noise from Seonghwa’s bedroom and you freeze, hoping you didn’t wake him up with that cabinet. 

But he pads out to the kitchen, rubbing one of his eyes and stopping in his tracks once he sees you. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, looking over at the discarded blanket on the couch. “You okay?” 

You set your glass back down, “Yeah, I’m okay. Can’t sleep.” 

He hums, nodding. “I can’t either.” 

Instead of awkwardly standing still in front of each other, he moves to your side to get himself a drink as well. Instead of water, he substitutes it for soju. He reasons it might help him sleep. From the same cabinet, he grabs a smaller glass and fills it up about halfway with soju. He drinks it all in one go, wincing slightly as it burns down. You laugh lightly at his expression, and his ears turn pink. You wonder what type of drunk he is. Maybe one day you’ll find out, you doubt he’s about to get hammered tonight. He takes another shot, and then puts the bottle away. 

Something tells you he drinks in order to sleep quite a lot. 

You cradle your little glass of water self-consciously. Being here may be nice for you, but it could be triggering him, and he’s just too nice to you to say anything. You look down at his clothes hanging off your body and bite your lip. 

“Hey,” he gets your attention, “enough of that.” 

“What?” You ask, even though you know he caught you overthinking. 

“I want you here. And this,” he gestures to the bottle, “is getting better.”

You lower your head again, feeling caught. He also all but confirmed that what you were thinking is true, or was up until recently. 

“I don’t dream if I drink,” he says in a quieter voice. “So…” 

Maybe it’s late-night courage, or what have you, but you set your water down and wrap your arms around him in a hug. You’ve wanted to do this since you walked in. Luckily, he doesn’t tense or back away from you like you’re afraid he will. No, he pulls you tighter against him, sighing against your hair as one of his hands rests on the back of your head. 

Two broken people in the kitchen, holding the pieces of each other together. 

You’re not sure how long you stay like this, but when you two eventually pull away, he takes your hand. He avoids eye contact again, trying to build enough confidence to say something.        

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he admits. 

Your cheeks warm. He knows you don’t either. That’s one of the things Yunho told him the night he left. “Me neither.” 

Seonghwa nods once. You look back over at the couch. Surely the two of you can be comfortable there for the night? You don’t want to intrude on his private space. You feel like a vampire, you can’t go into a room without being invited first. 

This invitation isn’t verbal. 

Seonghwa gently leads you into his room before hurrying back to the couch to grab the blanket again. When he reenters, you’re still standing in the middle of his room. God, both of you are so awkward and so overly cautious with each other. You think it’ll just be like this until you both get better mentally. You already plan to talk with him in the morning. For now, you let him know that you don’t feel pressured, and that you want to be here. 

He physically relaxes, obviously worried about that until you said something. He gets into bed first, sighing once he settles down. You get in after him slowly, still checking him to see if it’s okay, if he’s not regretting his offer. It doesn’t look like it. 

You lay apart, with a few inches of distance between you two, for a couple of minutes, both trying to sleep. It is quickly apparent that this won’t help. You risk moving closer to him, laying your hand next to his. Still awake as well, he plays with your bracelet for a while before he moves to hold your hand properly. 

It’s a gradual shift, testing the waters to see what the other is okay with. Eventually, there are no more inches of distance between you, and you’re curling up by his side, your arm laid over his torso, and his arm wrapped around you.    

“Does this feel… is this okay?” He checks one more time as the soju starts to kick in, dragging him towards sleep. He fights against it for a little longer, needing to hear your verdict. 

You look around the room. 

Trinkets overflow off of shelves, a huge monitor on his LED illuminated desk, an equally large Lego collection showcased behind glass, a bladeless fan perched on his nightstand, also equipped with soft LED lights, and small, miscellaneous plants anywhere else there’s room. 

You look up at him. 

His eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks as he waits for your reply. He holds a slight tension in his hand, ready to either let go of you entirely, or pull you in closer. 

And suddenly, there’s no more forest. No more cameras or fire. No more water or knives or guns, or belts. There’s no more betrayal, tests, or fear. There’s only him. And for tonight, that’s enough. That will make all the difference in the world. Everything else you’ll figure out in the morning, already visualizing the many texts you’ll wake up to from your mother, asking where the hell you are. You’re content to stay right here until your flight home, honestly.    

You nuzzle your cheek against the space between his shoulder and his chest. His cheek rests against the top of your head and he gently presses you closer. Both of you breathe in the other.  

“It’s perfect.”  

END OF STOCKHOLM.