Imagine finding both friendship and love in one person
nonidol!sunghoon x fem!reader • wc: 2.5k • friendship to love
Some things just cannot be predicted. Yes, you can have that mysterious gut feeling and be anxious for a whole week, but you will never really know where that came from. Doubts will creep in, chills at mentions of certain names, but so what?
It was going on for weeks. Maybe months. You lost count of days since the tension started building. Going on and on about his friends, yet avoiding mentioning names, going to these lengthy gatherings and coming back with a stupid grin on his face. He let you believe lies about other women and somehow you did. You listened and stayed. Until you didn’t.
“Get the hell out of here!” Another mug flew out of your hand going straight at the wall, missing your, now ex, boyfriend's panicked face by mere inches. He was trying to calm you down, mumbling some nonsense you were fed up hearing and you didn’t even notice how the first object next to you flew towards his head. And another. And another. Until there was a maze of scattered shards of glass and ceramic everywhere.
The front door opened and shut in the background, but you didn’t pay attention to it.
“You can’t tell me to get out. This is my place.” This was one of his problems. Everything was ‘his’ until he struggled and then suddenly it was a joint problem. Never had a single second of hesitation to ask to chip in for rent the second you moved in, yet now suddenly it was only his place.
A door banged loudly and a tall figure entered the scene, eyeing the two of you with a tinge of worry. The messy black hair and brows show clear signs of tiredness probably from training till late evening. He didn’t even utter a word and you didn’t expect him to.
In the half a year you lived in this house, your pathetic excuse of a man shared with Sunghoon, you heard his voice a grand total of two times. That was if you exclude the customary grunts instead of usual hellos you were greeted with almost every morning. Turned out your work and Sunghoon’s ice skating training started almost at the same time and while you saw each other more often than you’d like that didn’t mean you knew much about the man.
“I don’t care whose place this is. Be a man for once in your god forsaken life and just leave.” Your hand went to a new plate on the drying rack, ready for another launch, when Sunghoon’s annoyingly large frame blocked your field of vision. You were about to say that this is really not the time for him to show his male solidarity, but he surprised you with his perfectly levelled, yet commanding tone.
“Just do what the lady said. This is my place too and I want you to leave.” Now your ex was furious, eyeing the two of you like you were his lifelong nemeses.
“Dude, you don’t even know what this argument is about! Why are you taking her side?!” His face got all red and blotchy from the fury, yet his eyes showed fear. He was scared to lose it all.
“I don’t need to. If she is angry like that, then there is a reason for it.” He was avoiding using any names, which made you think he forgot it completely, but it was nice that he still stood by your side, instead of indulging that moron.
The standoff took way longer than it was meant to, probably because your ex was weighing his chances to overpower Sunghoon (which were close to none). The plate in your hand was confiscated and was now back on the rack courtesy to Mr. I-am-twice-your-size, yet your anger was still just as potent. You wanted him gone. To a different dimension if possible. Time felt dangerously slow, but eventually he gave in.
With a tortured sigh, he threw one last glance your way and started walking towards the front door, mumbling something incoherent. Sunghoon tracked him all the way to the door until the loud bang told you he finally left.
Both of you stood still for a couple seconds, then your tall, muscular and super cliche saviour suddenly turned around in an elegant spin.
“You want some tea?” He asked with the most flat tone you have ever heard. Not like he just witnessed you throwing mugs and plates at another person. “That is if we still have mugs left…” You looked at the mess on the floor and immediately all the anger evaporated, being replaced by horror.
“Oh my god, I am so very sorry, I promise I will replace all the broken things and clean up right now.” You were about to walk to the bathroom to grab the broom, but Sunghoon stopped you.
“That is really not why I said it. I was trying to be funny.” He had a sheepish grin on his face, not used to having such lengthy conversations with you or anyone in general probably. The slight blush on the apples of his cheeks made him look almost boyish.
His admission made you forget your initial anger, confusion and now panic, a small laugh spilling out of your lips.
“Yes, I’d love some tea… If you can find a mug.” He returned the laugh and made his way to the kettle, while you plopped on the chair at the kitchen island.
Suddenly the exhaustion took over, your tense muscles going limp and head falling on the island with a soft thud.
“You know you can tell me what happened, y/n.” Hearing your name from his lips made you shudder for some inexplicable reason. Maybe because you were convinced he forgot it. Maybe because in the last 10 minutes you heard this man speak more words than in all the months you’ve known him. And he surprised you. Really surprised you.
While initially you didn’t think you needed to talk it out, his simple presence and the odd comfort it brought, had the words tumbling out in a waterfall, like a dam had burst. You told him everything. How for months he’s been going out with women and hiding it under the pretense that they are just friends, that there will be other people, that this doesn’t mean anything. This whole time you knew it meant a lot more than what he promised, but the rose-tinted glasses didn’t want to fall. At the end of the day you still trusted the bastard. And when they finally shattered, the glass hurt you more than you expected. The anger was insurmountable. This was the first time in your life you understood what “seeing red” truly meant. At some point the anger formed into tears, escaping your body and that was when it really hit you how long you’ve been bottling up these feelings.
The time you spent indulging a fantasy of a healthy relationship when it was all a lie. The energy and effort put into such a big part of your life now felt so futile that you felt helpless. The anger now was less about the betrayal and more about pity towards the wasted resources put into something that was never real to begin with.
Sunghoon listened with the usual calm and detached, almost bored, look, but you knew he paid close attention to every word you said with the way his eyes traveled on your face, the way he bit his lip, trying not to interrupt with a comment or how his leg was anxiously jumping under the table.
You always found it weird how Sunghoon and your ex managed to live together, because they were almost polar opposites. Now that you had a more clear view you realised Sunghoon was almost everything your ex wasn’t. He was calm and reserved as opposed to your ex’s shamelessly loud personality, his athletic career that your ex was jealous of yet never admitted to and after all, the dashing looks that always turned heads no matter how messy or tired Sunghoon looked.
When you finally finished laying everything on the table, with the remnants of calming tea, now cold, at the bottom of the mug Sunghoon found, he finally nodded, but said nothing else. Silence descended in the room. You noticed there was no discomfort that usually creeped in on you in these situations. Almost like this should’ve been normal, yet you were still not used to it. Your ex always hated the quiet. He had to talk loudly all the time or fill in the silence with some awful joke no one laughed at. You thought it was charming, you convinced yourself you liked it, but right now… This warm quiet felt almost meditative.
“I will get a locksmith and have the locks changed so he won’t be able to come in. I’ll deal with the rest of his things. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need until you find a place. Or just stay here.” The last sentence sounded awfully… hopeful? Almost like he wished you stayed. It was a weird sensation, but not an unpleasant one. You smiled a grateful smile, hoping the tear-stained face still looked somewhat normal and you didn’t suddenly forget how to smile.
“Yes, thanks a lot, Sunghoon… It means a lot.” He pursed his lips in a polite smile and left without another word.
That you got to know was a pretty common habit of his.
Sunghoon tended to skip hellos and goodbyes, occasionally leave his wallet at home or lock himself out. You found this surprising clumsiness an adorable charm, albeit sometimes annoying since you had to come to his rescue.
It’s been a couple months now since you’ve been living with him and you grew to know each other way better than you expected. You still didn’t talk a lot even while making coffee and breakfast in the kitchen at the crack of dawn, but somehow you knew exactly how he likes his americanos and he knew that you always added way too much sugar in yours. That you preferred romcoms and he loved action movies so you took turns choosing one for your Saturday movie nights with takeout. That he was absolutely impossible to piss off no matter how much you teased him, yet you playfully punched him in response when he tried anything towards you. That you loved sunsets and he loved sunrises, that he hated sugary things and you had a sweet tooth and many more unspoken things that you just knew about each other without having to speak.
Sunghoon got the locksmith to change the locks and your ex’s things magically disappeared less than a day after he left. That even made you let out a joke that Sunghoon secretly wanted to get rid of him too, to which he deadpanned a “yes” and left with no explanation. The situation was so funny you could swear it was a joke and you learned that his humour was in fact quite dry. The Sahara desert dry.
Things were going so well that you couldn’t help but wait for a catch. But it never came.
One day, when you were watching another Christmas romcom with the big fluffy snowflakes slowly falling outside of the window, you noticed Sunghoon was awfully restless. It was very unlike him to fidget with things and while you tried asking him if anything happened he dodged the questions or made poorly executed jokes to get out of answering, so you gave up.
Now the movie was progressing to the climax of the story with the main lead running after the woman to finally confess that he loves her.
“...No! You don’t understand! Just let me finish… Please. I wanted to say that this whole time… I loved you. Not as a friend, not as a neighbour… but as a person.”
The moment was so touching, with the Christmas lights behind the main characters, that for a moment you forgot to breathe.
“...me too” You heard Sunghoon’s faint voice from next to you, just to turn around and catch his gaze already fixed on you.
“Did you say something?” He let out a soft sigh at the question, your head tilting slightly with confusion. The sounds of the movie suddenly came muffled.
“I said ‘me too’.” His answer didn’t make you feel any more on board with what’s happening and Sunghoon realised that. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “All this time… I liked you too.”
You couldn’t have misheard that. He said exactly that. That this whole time… he liked you. Thoughts were jumbling up in your head running over each other and mixing together. Confusion and panic flooded your nervous system, but along those there was a tinge of… hope? Comfort? He was always so attentive and kind towards you that you got too used to it. Not noticing how he never shared food with anyone but you or when he quickly hid his smile the second he saw you sitting on the couch looking messy or even how he randomly bought things that he thought you’d like. It was all swooped under the rug under the pretence that he was just helping you cheer up. Now it all came back into such clear focus. He was taking care of you not because he felt bad, but because he wanted to.
“I know this is too sudden… I don’t want you to feel pressured, just know that I am here as a friend if you need me to be one.” You met his eyes, glittering from the light of the TV. “I just wanted you to know there are other options…”
A laugh involuntarily escaped your chest, earning you a tense look from Sunghoon. You cleared your throat and thought what to say next, because leaving him hanging like this when you live under the same roof would make you even more stressed.
While you knew he had infinite patience when it came to you, this friendship grew to be important for you. Your dynamics were different and it was a part of what made this work as well as it did. The wounds from the previous relationship were still fresh but didn’t hurt anymore, so maybe you had the right to move on and try something new. Something dramatically different. He was already a dream come true as is, but having to call him your partner…
“Want to date?” Your question was unexpected even for you. Sunghoon looked at you with the most red face you have ever seen him have, which made you chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward… I just want to try and see where it goes. As you can tell, I don’t hate you either.” A smile formed on his lips and he gave a curt nod, now looking at the floor.
“Not a single dull day with you… I am looking forward to many more of those.”
໒꒱ . ⊹ ⁺ in which detective park sunghoon was flawless until he met a ghost-like serial killer who hunts the city’s worst criminals
detective!sunghoon x fem!killer!reader wc ~5.5k
warnings/tags.: 18+ MDNI crime triller, enemies to fuckers, graphic violence (descriptions of violence/corpses, weapons), explicit sexual content (handjob/fingering), marking, biting, bdsm themes (choking, handcuffing), childhood trauma/abuse
my note.: thats my first fic … and english is not my first language soo i used translator sometimes pls don’t judge 💔
The yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the midnight breeze, a flimsy barrier against the chaotic noise of the flashing lights and whispering officers. But Sunghoon didn't care about the noise. He adjusted his stance, his cold expression perfectly masking the absolute fury brewing under his skin. Standing at a model-like height, with features so sharp they looked sculpted, he carried himself with an effortless, icy authority. The tiny moles dusting his face, usually seen as attractive quirks, only added to his dangerously detached aura tonight.
As he crossed the restricted line, a couple of officers bowed respectfully. Sunghoon didn't even blink. He kept his chin high, teeth gritting slightly as he maintained that flawless, indifferent facade. It was exactly why the precinct called him the "Cold Monster." He was a ruthless investigator who hunted down criminals without an ounce of hesitation or drama.
Except this time, he was dealing with a literal devil.
Three weeks. Three murders. A serial killer so professional you hadn't left behind a single strand of hair. Honestly, Sunghoon wouldn't be surprised if you turned out to be completely bald. But the lack of physical evidence wasn't even the worst part. There wasn't a single witness, a single lead, or a shred of identity on this ghost. The only clear thing was the motive. You exclusively targeted men who had blood on their own hands. A literal eye-for-an-eye vigilante.
Sunghoon refused to view you as some kind of dark hero, especially not when looking down at tonight's victim. The sight was sickening. The man's eyes were crudely sewn shut with thick black thread, a white cloth gag stuffed tightly into his mouth. Seven heavy nails were hammered in a precise collar around his throat. And stapled flat against his stomach with a heavy-duty furniture stapler was a printed rap sheet of his unpunished crimes:
Murder of his wife (1997)
Rape of a college student (2013)
Attempted murder (2018)
Sunghoon stared at the paper, his mind racing. How did this monster even get ahold of these records? The 1997 case had been completely buried, scrubbed from the public domain. Detective Cheong had confirmed it themselves.
Scanning the dark, freezing alleyway under the dim glow of the streetlights, Sunghoon spoke, his voice low but carrying an eerie weight that instantly quieted the surrounding officers.
"He wasn't killed here."
The nearby cops turned to him, blinking in surprise. The night was pitch black and freezing, the shadows swallowing up the gravel road despite their flashlights, yet this young investigator had figured it out in a matter of seconds.
"Check the security cameras immediately," Sunghoon ordered smoothly, turning his piercing gaze toward his subordinates. "There's one by the diner a two-minute walk from here, and another on the private building across the street. Pull the footage." The officers scrambled to obey his command. Sunghoon looked back at the body. "And get him to forensics for an autopsy. Fingerprints?"
"None, Senior Inspector," a cop replied nervously.
"Murder weapon?"
"Nothing left behind."
"Skin DNA under the victim's nails?"
"They've been neatly clipped, sir."
Sunghoon huffed a cold laugh under his breath, turning on his heel. "Let the medical examiner handle the rest."
He hated this. He absolutely despised it when a killer executed a job flawlessly, but he hated being stuck even more. Over the last two years, Sunghoon's career had skyrocketed so fast he outranked veterans who had been in the force for decades. But this 'devil' was actively bruising his ego. How could there be zero clues? Was this a professional hitman? Amateurs didn't pull off jobs this cleanly.
When Sunghoon walked back into the precinct, his face was a mask of pure indifference, ignoring the irritated glares of the night-shift officers. They envied him, plain and simple. Hated him because he was too perfect, too successful, too quickly.
"Senior Inspector," Heeseung, a young trainee, poked his head through the glass door of the main office. "The Captain is waiting for you in his office."
Sunghoon shifted his direction without a word.
Stepping into the office, Captain Jake looked like he was about to combust. His face was bright red, practically fumes coming out of his ears despite it being three o'clock in the morning. This damn killer was keeping the entire city awake.
"Sit," Jake commanded. Sunghoon nodded curtly, dropping into the chair opposite him. "This can't go on. We're pulling the public broadcast for witnesses."
Sunghoon's brows shot up. "Captain? I know we're hitting a wall, but if we pull the notice, we lose our only lead. Public tips are all we have right now." He honestly couldn't fathom what was causing such a drastic, panicked pivot.
"We have a bigger problem, Sunghoon," Jake said, his voice dropping into a deadly serious register. "The data regarding the third victim's sealed history... it was restricted. The fact that the killer knew about it means we have a leak. If the public finds out, the media will have a field day saying the police department is complicit."
"I know the optics are bad," Sunghoon countered, teeth gritting as he pushed the boundary of how he should talk to his superior. "But we need to look at the bigger picture. I'm not saying we should pity these victims, they're murderers, but our priority should be concealing the identities of the dead so the public doesn't side with the killer." He laid out his argument in one breathless rush, his eyes fixed in that characteristic, terrifyingly steady stare.
That was his biggest habit. When he got like this, his eyes didn't track, his voice went totally flat, and it felt like he was speaking straight into a void. It was why people hated being alone in a room with Park Sunghoon. He was the unfeeling cop who didn't show emotion. People said the job made him that way, but honestly? He had always been a bit of a monster.
"The killer's goal is obvious," Sunghoon continued coldly. "They don't just want to eliminate scum; they want adoration. They want the citizens to paint them as a hero. If this goes public, we'll have riots defending a vigilante."
"That's not the issue here, Sunghoon," Jake interrupted heavily, leaning forward. "The issue is that the restricted files were only accessed by five people."
Sunghoon paused, his hand reaching out to grab his tea mug. A slow, chilling smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, a rare sight that made both Jake and the chief in the corner tense. "Commissioner Heeseung, Chief Jake, Captain Jay, Inspector Jungwon.. Oh... and you, Senior Inspector Park."
Sunghoon actually let out a soft laugh. It was the first time they had ever heard him chuckle in an interrogation setting, and it was entirely out of place. He took a slow sip of the hot tea, then casually opened his hand.
The ceramic mug shattered against the floor with a loud, violent crack, hot liquid splashing across the tiles. The pieces lay scattered and broken, entirely beyond repair, something you just had to sweep into the trash and replace. Sunghoon looked down at the mess, mapping the ruined cup to his current situation. His trust in this room had just shattered the exact same way.
"So?" Sunghoon raised his icy gaze from the broken ceramic, locking eyes with his boss. "Am I a suspect now?"
"You're the only one who climbed from the very bottom to Senior Inspector in under two years," Jake pointed out, using his clean record as a weapon. "Out of the five of us, you've been here the shortest time."
"My success is a result of flawless skill, Captain. Longevity on the force doesn't make me a murderer," Sunghoon shot back smoothly. He didn't bother quoting regulations or citing his rights; he preferred to just sit back and watch them squirm trying to build a case against him. "Am I right to assume that, besides these lovely compliments about my career, you have zero actual evidence?"
Jake's face flushed deep red with anger, his fists clenching on the desk. "You're suspended from the investigation until we clear the digital logs. Leave your badge, handcuffs, ammunition, and service weapon on the desk. Along with your workstation password."
Sunghoon didn't hesitate. He pulled his police credentials from the inner pocket of his black uniform jacket and slid them across the wood. "My weapon is at my apartment. I wasn't on an active patrol assignment tonight."
"We expect it on this desk by eight AM sharp," Jake barked.
Sunghoon simply stood up and walked out. His chest felt entirely hollow, a void where the anger and unfairness should be. His career wasn't over, the best cops always faced a setup at some point. His father had gone through the exact same thing when he was framed for a tactical explosion, and he had proven his innocence. This wasn't the end. But inside that hollow chest, a dark, sharp hatred for this 'devil' began to take root.
Sunghoon was certain you had compromised one of the other four computers. You seemed to think you were untouchable. Fine, Sunghoon thought, his jaw clenching as he walked out into the chilly night. I'll catch you myself. And those shiny steel cuffs are going to look beautiful on your wrists.
The moment Sunghoon unlocked the door to his spacious apartment, he froze right on the threshold. The gray welcome mat was sitting at an odd angle, shifted an inch to the left.
As a textbook perfectionist, Sunghoon kept his life entirely orderly. He put things back exactly where they belonged, a habit that made him a brilliant cop and a tedious roommate. The moved rug meant someone had been here. Or worse, you were still inside.
Giving no indication that he had noticed the intrusion, he walked calmly over to the coat closet, slipping his hand inside to quietly retrieve his secondary service pistol. It wasn't loaded, he kept his ammo separated, but a heavy steel barrel was usually enough to terrify an amateur thief.
He slipped through the kitchen. Empty. He crept toward the living room.
The lights were off, the space only illuminated by the pale moonlight cutting through the wide-open windows, making the white sheer curtains dance in the freezing night wind. Sitting casually in the leather armchair in the corner was a figure dressed entirely in black, a heavy oversized hoodie, a leather jacket, dark cargo pants, and heavy-soled combat boots.
Sunghoon raised the pistol, aiming it directly at your head. But as his eyes adjusted, his heart did a strange, violent flip. The skin exposed under the hood was shockingly pale, almost translucent, but it was your eyes that made Sunghoon's breath hitch. They were filled with an indifference so heavy, so mocking, it mirrored his own. A dark, shared mirror image.
"Well, hello there, Park Sunghoon," you murmured from the shadows. Your voice was low, smooth, and laced with a rich, velvety amusement. "Can I just call you Mister Officer? Because 'Senior Inspector Park' is a bit of a mouthful, don't you think?"
Sunghoon's grip tightened on the grip of his gun. He wanted to swear, wanted to rip the smirk right off your face, but he kept his voice deadpan. "Who the hell are you?"
"Did you like my little gift?" you asked instead, completely ignoring his question as a soft, teasing chuckle escaped your lips. "Though, I suppose you haven't seen the best part yet. Don't worry, you'll absolutely love it when you go to hand over your gear at eight AM."
A cold dread pooled in Sunghoon's stomach. You know about the precinct. You know about the suspension. "What did you do?" he demanded, steps turning lethal. "Don't play games with me, sweetheart. You're out of your depth. Do you know Article 139? Illegal trespassing against the will of the resident. I can legally put a bullet in you right now."
"Oh, Mister Officer," you sighed, your tone dripping with mock pity as you tilted your head. "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet. And here I thought you were the brilliant, untouchable Senior Inspector Sunghoon. Honestly, from where I'm sitting? You're not as observant as they say."
You leaned forward, the moonlight catching the sharp line of your jaw. "I've been in this apartment at least three times this week. And you never noticed a thing. I got tired of being a ghost, so I finally moved the rug tonight."
Sunghoon's eyes narrowed, his aim steadying right between your eyes to break your confidence. But you didn't even flinch.
"Can you lower the arm already? We both know the clip is empty," you smirked, a wicked, devilish little expression that made you look entirely dangerous. "You know that old joke, right? Hoodlums become cops, and the straight-A students become killers... looks like we broke the mold, Hoonie."
"Surrender now," Sunghoon countered, lowering the gun slightly since you had already called his bluff. "You play nice, and the prosecutor might offer a plea deal."
"Oh, skipping straight to the legal jargon? Disappointing... I wanted to talk," you whined playfully, running a finger along the leather armrest. "But fine, let's play your game. What's my verdict if you take me in? Article 105, part 2 first-degree murder of two or more individuals committed with extreme cruelty. Punishment ranges from twenty years to life imprisonment, or... the death penalty."
"If you have a documented psychological evaluation, they might mitigate it," Sunghoon stated, his professional composure masking the storm inside.
"Here's my counter-offer," you purred, standing up slowly, your dark clothes shifting around your slight frame. "Become my partner. Help me take down the real filth in this city. Or, you can play the dirty cop that the entire country learns to despise. Choice is yours, Mister Officer."
Sunghoon felt his composure fraying. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You really haven't connected the dots?" You laughed, a rich, dark sound. "I'm framing you if you say no. There's a little file sitting on your precinct computer right now... and by morning, you'll be the one facing that life sentence."
Sunghoon stared at you. You were smart. Infuriatingly so. "What did you put on my drive?"
"Oh, look at that, the Cold Monster is sweating," you teased, taking a step closer into the moonlight. "The golden boy, the high school valedictorian, the teacher's pet... who lost his mind one afternoon and nearly beat his classmate to death in the hallway. I uploaded the old security footage of that little incident straight to your active terminal. Want to guess when? The day of the first murder, while you were tucked away sleeping sweet in your bed, I was right here... uploading away. And that's just a fraction of my gift. Your colleagues are probably watching it right now."
"You psycho bitch," Sunghoon hissed, his breathing rattling in his chest. To suppress the exploding anger, he began pressing his thumbs firmly against his fingers—his standard grounding exercise to curb his temper.
"And for the grand finale..." You suddenly pulled a sleek black handgun from your waistband, pointing it dead at his chest. The playful tone vanished, replaced by an icy, absolute stillness that sent a shockwave through the room. "I'm going to leave a few drops of your blood at the next crime scene. You have exactly one minute to give me your answer."
Sunghoon's entire body went rigid under the barrel of the gun. "Go to hell."
"Wrong answer," you whispered, your voice sending a chill down his spine. "Thirty seconds..."
Sunghoon locked eyes with you, his jaw clenching until it ached. He was a cop. He was his father's son. "I'd rather die a clean cop than live as a dirty killer. I will catch you, and I will make sure you spend the rest of your life in a dark cage where the sun never shines."
You paused, your expression softening into something strangely nostalgic. "Still believing in justice? You really haven't changed, Sunghoon." You lowered the weapon slightly, looking at him with a gaze that felt entirely too heavy, triggering an intuition in Sunghoon's chest that he couldn't ignore. "Do you remember a promise you made to a little kid a long time ago? You said you wanted to be a cool cop, just like your dad."
Sunghoon's breath hitched. "What?"
"And that kid told you you'd become a criminal to punish the bad guys instead..." A slow, genuine smile spread across your lips, your eyes widening slightly as you watched Sunghoon's face completely drop in shock.
No. It couldn't be.
"You told me: 'Then I'll just have to catch you and put you in jail myself.'" You gave a soft, breathless laugh, backing up toward the open window ledge. "Hey, Mister Officer... why am I still walking free? I've broken so many laws. Come catch me already."
Before Sunghoon could even process the words, you spun around and dropped out of the second-story window.
"Wait!" Sunghoon sprinted to the ledge, throwing himself over the frame. Down on the pavement below, you stood under the dim street lamp, your pale face looking up at him through the dark strands of your hair.
"I'll find you," Sunghoon yelled into the dark, his voice shaking with an emotion he hadn't felt in a decade. "You can't hide in the shadows forever. I will find you."
The bright orange jumpsuit was an absolute insult to his skin tone, and the cheap metal handcuffs chafing his wrists felt like a joke.
Sunghoon sat in the grim, freezing visitor's booth of the holding facility, his eyes dark with exhaustion. He had spent two days in this filthy cell, surrounded by criminals who looked at him like he was a fallen king. He hadn't said a word to defense counsel or internal affairs. He refused to make excuses. He believed the truth would come out, but he never expected you to be the one to orchestrate it.
"They look good on you," a voice echoed through the metal speaker grill.
Sunghoon looked up. You were sitting on the other side of the thick plexiglass window, your small face partially hidden under the hood of a heavy black jacket. You were looking at his cuffed hands with a completely blank expression. "Honestly, I think you should wear them permanently."
"They'd look better on you," Sunghoon replied smoothly, his tone matching your flat delivery, though his eyes tracked every tiny movement of your shoulders.
"Then come try to put them on me," you whispered, a crooked, dark little smile pulling at your pink lips. "Let's see if you're fast enough."
"Why are you here, Y/N?"
"You look like you're adjusting well. Ready to head back to your cell?" you mocked, leaning closer to the glass, your small hands folding together on the counter. "If you're ready to throw in the towel, don't worry. I'm here to give you a second chance."
"I gave you my answer two days ago in my apartment," Sunghoon said, leaning forward until his chest pressed against the table barrier. "Nothing has changed. Nothing will change."
"It's your call, Hoonie. I can either pull off another murder tonight to clear your name, or I can drop another little digital breadcrumb that keeps you locked in here until you're gray. What's the play, Mister Officer?"
A quiet, taunting chuckle vibrated through the speaker, and Sunghoon felt his blood turn to absolute fire. The absolute arrogance of you.
"You brat," he hissed, his eyes flashing with a dangerous heat.
"Tick-tock, Sunghoon..." you teased, your teeth coming down to anxiously bite at your bottom lip, your eyes darting away for a split second. "Five... four... three... two..."
"Damn it, Y/N!"
"Ugh, you're so boring!" you whined, tossing your head back with an exasperated sigh.
Sunghoon's eyes dropped, tracing the sharp, pale line of your jawline exposed by the movement, moving down to the smooth skin of your neck where a small dark mole sat right near your collarbone. A sudden, totally inappropriate thought flared in his chest, he wanted to rip that hood off your head, pin you down in the daylight, and see exactly what you looked like when you weren't hiding behind a criminal persona. He swallowed hard, his heart slamming against his ribs so loudly he was terrified you could hear it through the glass.
"I can stay in this cell as long as it takes for the truth to come out," Sunghoon said, forcing his voice into a steady, calm rhythm. "But I'll consider your little partnership under one condition. Why are you doing this? What's your actual motive, Y/N?"
The playful demeanor vanished instantly. Your face went dead serious, the muscles in your neck tightening as you glared through the plexiglass. The coldness radiating from you was so intense Sunghoon almost wanted to take the question back. But he didn't. He had learned to master his emotions after that high school fight; he wasn't going to let a girl from his past unhinge him now.
"Your choice, Y/N," he pressed. "Give me the truth. If you lie to me, you're dead to me."
"Using my own tactics against me?" you muttered, the smirk slowly returning to your face, though it didn't reach your eyes. "Aren't you worried you'll cut yourself playing with sharp toys?"
You stood up, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. Before signaling the guard to let you out of the visitation room, you leaned toward the speaker one last time. "You made your choice, Mister Officer. I'll give you another little present tonight."
Sunghoon watched you walk away. If he wanted to, he could have flagged the guards right then, given them your description, and ended this. But he didn't. He told himself he was just waiting for the perfect moment to catch you red-handed. The golden boy cop wouldn't let a serial killer roam free. But inside, he kept flashing back to that five year old girl on the orphanage playground.
He remembered the day he had approached you. You were sitting alone on a wooden bench, looking small and miserable. Sunghoon had slid over, pulling a green-wrapped piece of hard candy from his pocket and thrusting it toward you.
"My mom told me not to take candy from strangers," you had mumbled, your nose red as you stared at the sweet.
"Well, my mom told me to always share with kids who look lonely," eight year old Sunghoon had declared proudly. "I'm Park Sunghoon. What's your name?"
"Y/N," you whispered.
"That's a pretty name. Now we aren't strangers anymore, right?"
They had played until sundown. When Sunghoon's mother called him back, you had looked so small returning to the orphanage line. The next day, you showed up with a nasty bruise under your left eye but a huge smile on your face.
"Bad kids need to be punished," Sunghoon had told you, balling his little fists. "When I grow up, I'm going to beat them up for you."
"When I grow up, I'm going to be a hero!" you had cheered.
"Heroes are only in cartoons," Sunghoon scoffed with all the wisdom of an eight-year-old. "I'm going to be a cool cop like my dad."
"Then I'll be a criminal who punishes the bad guys!" you had laughed, your eyes sparkling.
And you had kept those promises. Every single one of them.
Sunghoon stepped out of the precinct doors, inhaling a massive gulp of the crisp night air to flush out the stale, metallic smell of the holding cells.
It was over. Or at least, his detention was. The guards had abruptly opened his cell door that morning, announcing that another corrupt politician had been found executed across town with the exact same signature. Since Sunghoon was locked in a maximum-security cell at the time of death, internal affairs had no choice but to drop the charges and release him, though his suspension remained active.
Murder number four. You had kept your word.
He called a cab, desperately needing a shower. Reaching his apartment, he stripped off his clothes, tossing them straight into the trash can. He didn't want a single trace of that jail cell near him. He stepped under the scalding spray of the shower, tilting his head back as the water washed over his tired muscles. He just wanted to sleep in his own massive, comfortable bed. He was too exhausted to think about the beautiful little devil who had cleared his name.
He fell into bed damp, sleeping heavily for hours until the violent rumbling of his stomach woke him up near midnight. Realizing his fridge was completely bare, he threw on a black leather jacket over his sweatpants and jogged down to the 24-hour market, grabbing a bag of basic groceries.
But when he reached his front door, his hand paused on the knob. The apartment was dead silent, and the hallway lights didn't spill into the crack beneath the door. The lights are off. He distinctly remembered leaving the kitchen light on.
He quietly dropped the grocery bag onto the carpeted hallway and slipped into the dark apartment, his vision adapting to the shadows. There was only one person who would break into his home like this.
The moment he crossed into his bedroom, a fist swung out of the darkness, aiming straight for his jaw.
Sunghoon ducked by pure reflex, his shoulder colliding with yours as he threw a counter-punch. You blocked it efficiently, grabbing his wrist and twisting, using his own momentum to slam his back flat against the bedroom wall.
The moonlight poured through the open curtains, illuminating your face perfectly. Your dark hair was messy, your pale cheeks flushed from the exertion, your full lips curved into that signature, infuriating smirk.
"Hey there, Mister Officer," he heard your deep, velvet voice closer than it had ever been. "Did you like my little release present? Consider it payback for the candy."
"You little menace," Sunghoon growled. He shoved you back, his left arm swinging out to pin you, but before his hand could lock onto your shoulder, a sharp click echoed through the room.
A cold weight wrapped around his right wrist.
Sunghoon looked down in horror. You had slapped a heavy pair of police-issue steel handcuffs onto his wrist, and with a lightning-fast jerk of your arm, he snapped the matching cuff around your own left wrist.
"What the hell did you do?" Sunghoon roared, grabbing the front of your leather jacket and violently shoving you back against the wall, his knee driving into your stomach to lock you down.
You gasped as your back hit the drywall, but instead of fighting, a loud, breathless laugh burst out of you. You looked up at his vicious, flushed face, completely unbothered by the hand tightening around your collar.
"Oh god, Sunghoon," you giggled, your eyes sparkling in the dark. "I stole those straight from your Captain's desk. Don't look at me like that. I don't have the key. We either figure this out together, or you're stuck with a serial killer permanently."
"Where is the key, Y/N? I swear to god.."
"I told you, I don't have it," you whined, your playful demeanor returning as your hips shifted slightly against his thigh. "Besides, would you really rather be a clean cop than stay right here with me? Don't be mean, Hoonie."
"Shut up!" Sunghoon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the feel of your body pinned against his. "Don't play with me."
"Why? Afraid you'll lose control again? Just like you did in high school when that boy called your dad a fraud?"
"I said, shut up!"
The tension snapped. Sunghoon threw his weight forward, tackling you onto the mattress of his bed. The sudden movement sent you rolling, your cuffed wrists clashing painfully between you. Because Sunghoon was right-handed and you were left-handed, your free arms were completely unhindered, turning the struggle into a tangled, breathless brawl on the sheets.
Within seconds, Sunghoon used his size to dominate your position. He pinned your arms over your head, his heavy thighs locking your legs down, his right knee settling heavily directly between your thighs to stop you from squirming away.
He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his cold facade completely fracturing. "Tell me the truth. Why them? What is your actual motive?"
You bit your lip, your eyes darting toward the window as you tried to twist your hips out from under his knee. But Sunghoon didn't budge. He pressed down firmer, anchoring you to the mattress. "Speak."
You let out a frustrated groan, your cheeks turning a bright, unmistakable crimson under his intense gaze.
"I'm asking you for the last time, Y/N. What is your motive?"
You stopped struggling entirely, your chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow hitches. You closed your eyes tight, a quiet, embarrassed whine escaping your throat as you bit down on your lower lip so hard it turned white.
Sunghoon froze. The sudden shift in your behavior caught him completely off guard. You weren't fighting anymore. You were trembling. And that's when he realized the positioning. His right knee was pressed firmly between your thighs, and every time you had tried to pull away, you had accidentally ground yourself right against his leg.
A sudden, dark wave of realization hit Sunghoon's chest. The dangerous, untouchable killer was completely flushed, your eyes glassy, your breath hitching every time his weight shifted.
A slow, wicked smirk tugged at Sunghoon's lips. "Tell me," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, intentionally shifting his knee just a fraction of an inch to emphasize the friction.
"You're... you're making a mistake," you whispered, your voice cracking as you kept your face turned away, trying to hide the dark blush spreading down your neck.
"Am I? Or are you the one making a mistake by keeping your mouth shut?" Sunghoon teased, leaning down until his breath brushed your ear. "Last chance, Y/N. Why do you kill them?"
You let out a sharp, ragged breath, your fingers curling into the bedsheets. The overwhelming heat in the room was making your head spin, you melting under the physical dominance of the man hovering over you. You unconsciously arched your hips upward, seeking the pressure, before a soft, broken whisper escaped your lips.
"Hoonie... please... move..."
Sunghoon’s heart stopped. Hearing that soft, desperate nickname completely shattered his remaining self control. It was too hot. Too close. But he didn't move an inch. "Tell me the truth first."
"They killed them," you whined, a tear finally slipping down your cheek as you abandoned all your games. "My parents... they were murdered right in front of me when I was five. I remember their faces, Sunghoon. I remember every single detail. But I didn't know their names. I needed you... I needed a cop's credentials to get into the federal database to track them down. Damn it, Sunghoon, stop moving!"
You gasped as Sunghoon's knee shifted again, but before you could finish your sentence, Sunghoon leaned down and slammed his lips against yours.
The kiss was rough, chaotic, born out of a decade of unresolved tension and sheer adrenaline. You didn't fight it. You let out a muffled moan into his mouth, your free hand coming up to lock behind his neck, pulling him down harder as your lips parted for him. Sunghoon groaned, his cuffed hand tangled with yours on the pillow as he kissed you deeply, his free hand sliding down your waist to aggressively pull your hips up against his leg.
The room faded into an absolute blur of heat and friction. Sunghoon's hands became frantic, pulling at the buckle of your pants, helping you kick them free along with your underwear. He didn't care about his badge, didn't care about the law, right now, you were just his Y/N, the messy, dangerous girl who had consumed his thoughts for years.
He moved his mouth down to your exposed collarbone, biting down softly, leaving dark, crimson marks over your pale skin while his hand slid between your legs. You arched violently off the bed, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he moved his fingers in a steady, perfect rhythm. The low, guttural moans coming from your throat drove him completely insane. You pushed back against his hand, your breathing turning into ragged pants until, with one final, melodious cry, your body went completely rigid, trembling as you came right against his hand.
For several long minutes, the only sound in the bedroom was the ragged synchronization of your breathing.
Sunghoon lay partially over you, his forehead resting against your shoulder as the adrenaline slowly ebbed out of your veins. The reality of what you had just done settled into the quiet space. Neither of you looked at each other.
You reached out with your free hand, clumsily grabbing a tissue from the nightstand. Without a word, you cleaned yourself up, pulling your pants back into place before pulling out a second tissue. You gently took Sunghoon's hand, your fingers surprisingly soft as you carefully wiped his fingers clean.
Sunghoon swallowed heavily, his throat dry as he finally turned his head to look at you.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, tossing the tissue onto the floor. You looked down at the steel cuffs still binding you together.
Sunghoon opened his mouth to speak, ready to tell you that you would find a way to handle your past legally, that he would help you, but before the words could leave his tongue, your expression shifted.
The soft, vulnerable girl vanished. In a split second, your arms shot up, your small hands locking around Sunghoon's throat with a terrifying, precise grip, pinning him to the pillow beneath you.
A cold, wicked grin spread across your lips.
"You never really knew the real me, Hoonie," you whispered, your eyes flashing with that familiar, dangerous fire. "You're the golden boy investigator, and I'm the monster who purges this city. The game isn't over."
Sunghoon reached up to break your grip, but his muscles felt entirely heavy, his vision starting to blur from the pressure on his carotid artery.
"Hey, Park Sunghoon..." your voice echoed, fading as the darkness crept into the edges of his sight. "Why am I still free? Come catch me already."
The world went pitch black.
When Sunghoon’s eyes snapped open, the morning sun was blindingly bright, pouring through the bedroom window. He gasped, sitting up quickly, his hand instantly flying to his throat. It was sore, but he could breathe perfectly.
He looked down at his right wrist. The handcuffs were gone, sitting open on the nightstand beside a small metal key.
Sunghoon rubbed his face, a breathy, disbelief-filled laugh escaping his lips. He rolled out of bed and walked over to the vanity mirror. Pulling his shirt collar down, he stared at the vibrant, crimson bite mark sitting perfectly on the side of his neck.
A morning gift.
He touched the mark, his expression hardening back into that icy, determined mask. A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he looked out the open window.
"I'll find you…" he whispered into the empty room. "You can't hide in the dark forever. And next time, I'm keeping the keys."
When an argument left sunghoon storming out of your shared apartment coming home late at night just too find you self soothing on the floor of your bedroom..
You’re honestly not sure how the argument with sunghoon started but you do know that the words coming out of his mouth hurt you..
“GOD Y/N YOU’RE SO ANNOYING! OH MY GOD CANT YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE FOR 5 FUCKING SECONDS?”
That’s the last thing he said before storming out of your apartment, but those words stuck with you
See you had a few ex boyfriends and you love to talk, love to be clingy and love to show your love. But almost every single boyfriend you had didn’t like how big you loved. So you hid it, until sunghoon came along and brought that side back out.
So those words..hit way deeper than he realized.
After he slammed the door you felt the tears coming down your face, hot and fast. You stumble to your guys shared bedroom and sat in the corner of the room. All that you feel is the broken feeling of being shut down time and time again. You just really hoped it wouldn’t happen this time..
Then it started, your chest tightens, your breathing gets rigid, your shaking uncontrollably. You know this feeling all too well. So you start to self soothe, this has always calmed you down.
Then you hear the door opening and..
“Y/n? Babe where are you?”
You go stiff cause he’s never seen you in this state even after months of dating you’ve vowed to yourself to never cry in front of him partially because you were scared that he was gonna realize you do feel too much.
His footsteps get closer to your quiet sobs as he enters your bedroom, he looks at the bed then he sees you and the scene of you rocking back and forth using your thumb to draw little circles in your bicep absolutely broke him.
His expression immediately went from shocked to hurt to “what have I done.” He drops what he has in his arms and makes his way to you in one quick stride pulling you into him.
“Hey hey it’s okay I got you I’m here”
“I thought y-you left m-me..”
His eyes start to water
“No I would never god I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I made you question us.”
“I’m sorry for being t-to much and that I f-feel too much ill t-tone it d-down..”
When those words left your mouth he immediately pulled away and cupped your face with his warm hands.
“Y/n never say those words ever again. God how could you say that, the reason I love you so much is because you have big feelings, I know what I said earlier and god I wish I could take it back but don’t think my feelings for you have wavered because I would chose you in every single life time.”
You look at him
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And with that he picked you up bridal style and laid you in bed, and that night he made sure to show you how much he loved you.
After you were done he was stroking your hair whispering “all mine” “I’ve got you” “I love you” when you woke up all you saw was him with breakfast in a tray coming towards you.
THE END
Hope you guys like this! It might be messy because it is my first one I was gonna write the smut part but I might save that for another one ;). Anyway how you enjoyed reading!
⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ S in which nothing cuts deeper than your hatred for park sunghoon, except the desire that waits underneath it. 、masterpost PAIRING 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 ۶ৎ 𝘧𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 💿playlist WC 3.3k
𝓦 。ᐟ nothing much just fluff flashbacks hello, angst, 30 smau screenshots, with a dash of babygirl bestfriend heeseung 💿 in my head — ariana grande, i wish i hated you — ariana grande, you get me so high - the nbhd two slow dancers - mitski
𝓢ummer taps mic … hello is this thing on... i’m sorry for being so awol my sweeties i’m in the fucking trenches. i decided to post this separately instead of including it in chapter 16 hehe i got carried away pouring my despair into writing over the past 5 months (crazy sentence) so here is a cumulation of my babies before their downfall + bits of reader's diary :3 i love you all so much. thank you for being here
・・・・・ ✷
FOUR SUMMERS AGO, you came home from a three month long summer trip and found a stranger wearing your favorite person’s face.
Eventually, you started to wonder if you exaggerated everything the two of you had and embroidered the whole thing with too much hope. Maybe you were just young and stupid, and it was unrequited love, because that is what he told you, wasn’t it?
“You’re just needy, delusional, and spoiled. And I could never be with someone like you.”
In the end, Sunghoon chose his empire over you, too cowardly to fight against a system his father set up. And you lost your best friend in the process, too. That’s what happened.
You know what happened after that, what he turned into.
But he wasn’t always like that, no matter how hard you try to rewrite your memories to lessen the pain.
THREE YEARS AGO. ’Twas a warm, still, joyful spring evening from an entirely different lifetime.
Back when you were beguilingly unaware and unworried about what would happen in the next three years, much less in the next few minutes, inside the cozy corners of your bedroom, which smelled like a Pomander Diptyque candle while Obvious by Ariana Grande sounded through the ApplePlay on your TV.
At the time, you weren’t worried about your sexuationship with your ex-best friend, who turned into the mortal embodiment of Hades and, as fate would have it twistedly, your (PR) fiancée at all. You only had three real concerns, and they were all oh so very simple:
What the hell were you supposed to wear to Jay’s surprise birthday party tonight?
Which bag would best fit all four of your lipsticks and your 3 different compacts (because what if you need to touch up highlighter, powder, and blush?) a power bank (because Sunghoon’s phone always ran out of battery), wipes, hand sanitizer, and Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyer, because you were fixating on reading again and planned to sneak away to finish a chapter even though you were not antisocial, but just obsessed with Edward Cullen. Maybe the Chanel 19? But what color? And if the bag changed, then the outfit changed. And if the outfit changed, then the shoes changed. Obviously.
How irrevocably in love you were with your best friend. (Don’t worry, in here, he’s not Hades yet. He’s still your Hoonie.)
Hoonie, by the way, arrived way too early to pick you up, so now he was lying across your couch in your gigantic pink bedroom at your family manor, scrolling through TikTok obnoxiously loudly while you stood inside your walk-in closet, digging through dresses and ranting about some guy you gave a chance the night before. (Sungchan, irrelevant to the plot, however, he was cute. Definitely your type. Definitely into you. Were you? Not so much.) But you finally said yes to a date with him because you could not be hung up on your best friend forever, right? Especially not when said best friend had sworn off love like fucking Simon Basset or whatever. (You didn’t say this out loud, duh)
“…And then he tried to kiss me, and I was like… not in those ugly ass shoes. I was not having my first kiss—” You stopped, because that’s not factually correct. “Well. Not my first kiss. You were my first kiss.”
“I was your what?”
“My first kiss,” you repeated, cocking a brow up, even though you were in your closet and Sunghoon couldn’t see you. (This was approximately a few weeks after you’d tipsily kissed him in Heeseung’s house, by the way.)
Sunghoon was silent for a while, and then a loud thud sounded. You peeked out just in time to see Sunghoon dragging a hand down his face from your cream sofa, looking exactly as stupid as he clearly felt. “Shit. I forgot that you’re… You.”
You scrunched your nose, indignantly. “What the hell does that mean?”
He looked at you, still in your pajamas and with absolutely no makeup done, and paused for a moment. “How long are you planning to take?”
“What do you mean, I’m me, Hoonie?” you repeated, giving him a look that said, I will now take longer because you asked.
“I mean… you’re you.” He pointed up and down at you. “You have standards and rules.” He looked down at the blanket under him on your cream sofa with the pink Hermès pillows and the matching jacquard merino cashmere blanket, a blanket which was there because no outside clothes touched your couch and even your bed. “And standards for the rules. You just said you rejected Sungchan because of his clothes.”
Oh. You get what he means now. Translation: you’re you, aka stingy with your attention and operating with an insane, clearance system when it comes boys (and girls, if only society wasn’t so… como se dice… homophobic!) Nevertheless, you barely let anyone make it past the talking stage before you find one tiny flaw and send them to the metaphorical guillotine.
And how you’ll never date unless it’s The One.
“And?” You shrugged.
Side note: You rejected Sungchan because he was not Sunghoon. Plain and Simple. But also, his clothes were really ugly.
“Ugly fashion choices are a reflection of one’s soul. Like, who wears Prada loafers with a flashy Gucci shirt and a Loro Piana belt? Disgusting mix and match. The sexiest thing a man can do is know when to stop,” you add.
Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, growing a bit smug, because he was currently your thesis statement in human form. Black Zegna Polo. Black Zegna trousers, and his very own Prada loafers (which are taken off downstairs because, of course, no shoes in the house.) He looked back at you, and he licked his bottom lip. Ugh. “Right,” he said. “So I’m sexy?”
You rolled your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Park.”
“Think you do that for me just fine.” His ears were pink now, despite how smug he was, and you felt a flush go over you all the same. “But…” He paused. “I really was your first kiss?”
You exasperatedly laughed. “How the fuck did you not know that? I’m actually taking great offense to this. Do you even know me? I dropped Winter because she said Breakfast at Tiffany’s was overrated. I have watched Pride and Prejudice nine times—”
“I know. I was with you three of them,” Sunghoon cut in.
You clicked your tongue at the interruption, frowning a bit at the general context of everything. “Did you really think I was out here kissing random people? Me?” You pointed at yourself, genuinely appalled. “I’m not you.”
Sunghoon looked increasingly guilty the longer you spoke, and clearly, he knew that was a jab at how he’d gotten drunk and kissed Sooha at a party one time. “Okay, when you put it like that… I didn't forget,” he argued weakly. “I just…” He paused, running a hand through his hair as you crossed your arms and threw him another annoyed look. “Don’t look at me like that. You're eighteen. I thought maybe.. I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t tell me? You’re so pretty, and everyone fucking likes you and—”
“Didn’t tell you?” you repeated, and he nodded with an even guiltier look. “Hoonie, you’re the only person I ever tell anything to other than my mom. You’re my… best friend. Do you think I would keep my first kiss a secret?” You rolled your eyes. “You forgot because you’re a man. Just say that.”
“I forgot because I am a man,” he said obediently.
“And because you’re so, so, very stupid.”
Sunghoon’s expression said, nice try. “Don’t push it.” His mouth twitched, then he paused again for a bit, the gears in his head turning in real time. “Was the kiss good, at least?”
Well, now you were only thinking of kissing him again. How inconvenient. “It was terrible. Society would collapse if they found out their precious Park Sunghoon can’t kiss for shit.” You lied. Obviously, you had no previous experience, but you knew it was still the best kiss. (This can be confirmed today, too.)
Sunghoon cocked a brow, his shy demeanor washing away and being replaced by a smug one. He could always tell when you were full of shit, and you hated it. “Oh yeah?”
You threw one of your Hermès slippers directly at his head, but he had the reflexes of an Olympic athlete, so he caught it one-handed without even looking away from you, and this only irritated you even more. “Actually, it was traumatic,” you doubled down, crossing your arms. “Made ten times worse by the fact that the criminal responsible made me promise never to talk about it again.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry.” And damn him, he meant it. You could tell he really fucking did.
“Save it. You’ve ruined romance for me forever.”
Sunghoon clicked his tongue, and you went back inside your closet. “Fuck. We can’t have that, can we?” He cooed, and suddenly you heard him get up from the couch, so you peeked out again. Oh, God. “I guess I have to make it up to you.”
The atmosphere shifted as he moved closer, and closer, each step feeling as if he were tiptoeing along your ribcages and into your heart. You pursed your lips together as tension curled all around the room and into your being, because you’d never seen Sunghoon’s eyes so dark with want. “And how do you plan on doing that?” you asked.
Sunghoon stopped right in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes — which he did for you, thumb brushing beneath your jaw in a feather-light touch, and now all you could smell was him, and him, and him. His Tom Ford cologne, Fucking Fabulous
Sunghoon’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and your heart dropped with it, too. “By practicing,” he said.
And all you remember thinking at that moment was, this is really happening, and we’ll never be the same again.
“Fine,” you said, trying to sound casual as if your heart was not on the tip of his thumb that brushed your chin. “But only because your technique needs serious work, and I’m sooooo charitable.”
“Of course. I mean, you are my best friend, right? And… If I’m really so bad at kissing, then who else but you to help me out?” Sunghoon smiled boyishly, and then he kissed you again before you could say anything, sweeping you off your feet.
And you would later write in your diary that it felt like one of the kisses from The Notebook, except better, because this was not Ryan Gosling in the rain.
This was Park Sunghoon in your bedroom, kissing you like he finally stopped pretending what was between the two of you was inexorable in the face of everything: his family, society, his defences, and his belief system.
Later that night, at Jay’s birthday dinner, you would sneak away — not to read Midnight Sun at all — to kiss your best friend. Then again and again and again.
From then until Paris, that was all it became between you two. Sacred, stolen glances and secret moments, and no one knew.
(With the sole exception of Heeseung and Jay.)
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
Yes, you were seriously just best friends. That’s the foundation for every great love story, though, isn’t it?
And as much as you wanted it — and God, you did want it — you never had sex. You got close once in the back of his Lamborghini, parked under the trees outside the Ritz at the going-away party Wonyoung and Sunoo threw for you, while your dress was bunched around your thighs, and his hand trailed higher, and higher, goosebumps trailing in their wake. But he stopped, and then he said you deserved better than your first time being in the backseat of a car. His first time, too, actually.
So a promise was made. Because promises are sacred and you can never, ever break them, right?
Forever and always.
And then you went to Paris high on the feeling of being his but not quite fully, but anything was better than not being his at all, and you fell asleep on calls and missed him in every Parisian corner that should have felt magical but didn’t, because he was not there to give its beauty meaning and say something funny that would become your favorite part of the day.
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
June 5th, 2022 6:10 PM
Dear Hoonie Moonie,
“I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you’re everything that exists, the reality of everything.” — Virginia Woolf.
i like that you send me poems sometimes, so i’ve decided this diary will now include a quote of the day whenever one reminds me of you.
after ballet today — which i was half asleep through because SOMEONE thought it was acceptable to keep me on the phone until 5 a.m. my time because he was clingy — i went to the musée d’orsay with tae and jennie, which you’ll know when you wake up anyway, but i find the need to immortalize everything on paper. duh. we know this by now. they flew in from new york as a surprise (cough, cough, take notes) naturally, tae ended up third wheeling us again. #ilovemysisterinlaw.
anyways, im already dreading just thinking about that luncheon i’m going to tonight without you to keep me company :(
and for my question of the day i shall pose: would you still love me if i went bald?
bisous bisous,
your pink mirage
・・・・・ ✷
July 14th, 2022 1:00 AM
Dear Moonie,
“There are times when my longing for you overwhelms me, so often I can think of you only with teeth clenched.” — Franz Kafka.
there were fireworks everywhere and it was a beautiful day and i wish you were here.
it’s been six days since i last heard your voice properly and i feel like i’m going to die.
ugh. i sound whiny and annoying. what are you doing to me, park sunghoon? i talked to heeseung about this whole thing and he told me i’m the neediest girl alive… first of all needy by ari is my national anthem for a reason, but i’d rather die than admit a man is right.
and i am busy too, but i still manage to not be too busy for you.
that was bitchy but i don’t care. i’m not even mad that you are sort of ghosting me. you could go years and years without talking to me — and i’d go out of my mind — but i’d still love you. but i’m just worried. i feel like there is something you aren’t telling me even though you insist there isn’t.
it’s just that i am so confused about everything, and this on top of it is making me overthink every last thing ever. call it female intuition but impending doom is at bay… in my heart.
i am so fucking confused, hoon. i know you’re in love with me and i know saying things has always been harder for you than acting on them, and i know you are scared, but why is this the one thing you can’t say when you say everything else?
my question of the day: how do you kiss me and get jealous the way you do and still leave me here like this? am i not worth it?
i keep trying not to think that maybe you regret these months… okay wait. i should just shut up. six days of us not being the way we always are and i’m acting like i imagined everything. god. i’m just being dramatic.
please just be okay.
forever and always,
your sunshine
p.s. it’s a full moon tonight, so at least you’re here somehow.
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
・・・・・ ✷
September 19th, 2022 11:55 PM
Dear Sunghoon,
“I guess this is the end / I'll have to learn / To be somebody else / It's been you and me / Since before I was me / Without you, I don't yet know / Quite how to live.” – Mitski.
i don’t know why i’m still writing in this. but this is the only place i can still talk to you. i’ll never understand what changed, and as hard as i have tried, you have made it very clear you don’t want me in your life anymore, so i guess this is it, isn’t it?
i saw a pretty car on the street today. you know i don’t know shit about cars, but i think it was a maserati or whatever. it was black and tinted and my first thought was, sunghoon would love this. isn’t that fucking pathetic? you’d call me that, i guess. better pathetic than a coward.
every beautiful thing turns around and points to you, and i never thought there would be a day where i would see something and not be able to tell you about it. so much for forever and always, huh?
i love you.
i hate you.
question to the gods who rolled my fucked up dices: how do i stop loving someone who is embroidered into the tapestry of my soul?
“When the last sun sets
When the red moon rises in silence
Before the darkness seeping in deep
I sense a tragedy pass by in an instant”
MAINS. prince!Sunghoon & huntress!female reader
TROPES. dark snow white retelling, star-crossed lovers, angst, ambiguous ending
WARNINGS. blood imagery, slight gore, mentions of death and canon-typical violence
WORDS. 1.1k
NOTES. there’s just something about him that fuels my angst-lover heart
That night everything was black and white and eerily quiet.
After sunset, darkness fell over the woods like a blanket, smooth but all consuming. The pale globe of the moon was covered by hazy clouds, its faint glow painting the leafless trees menacing with their long shadows. Snow had fallen all day, leaving a thick layer of white, burying secrets underneath. But nothing could stay hidden forever. Nothing could escape the Queen.
Not even the Crown Prince.
The change came in increments. First, the ground shook, little tremors like it was shivering under the weight of snow. Then the sound of horse hooves clanking shattered the silence of the forest. Birds scattered at the sudden noise, tree branches crunched and a cloaked figure on horseback swished through the snow-covered path.
You watched it happen from your hiding place, the arrow already drawn in your hand, waiting. The closer the sounds came from, the louder your heartbeat became, its rhythm a tale of secrets and regret. Your fingers trembled over the bow string, so you closed your eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath.
Focus.
You couldn’t miss.
Around you, the woods held its breath, tension lingering in the air heavily. You counted to three and just before the target could get too far, you let go of the string with an exhale. The arrow pierced into a tree trunk with quiet precision and while some would have thought it was a grave mistake, it landed exactly when you wanted: right in front of the horse that threw off its rider in surprise. The animal neighed almost panicky, echoed by owl hoots in the distance, their sounds covering up the thud of your boots reaching the ground after you jumped down from a tree. The royal badge embroidered into your long coat’s hem brushed against the fresh snow with every step as you got closer to the body lying on the ground.
Your pulse spiked for a moment thinking that the fall might have killed him sooner than you could. But when you were close enough, you saw that he was conscious, staring at the full moon above.
Up close he was truly a vision. Hair black like coal, lips red like roses and skin white as snow. No wonder the Queen was envious. He was the royal painters’ favourite subject for a reason. Always looking pristine and meticulate, like a true prince should.
Now, there was a fresh cut on his cheek. From the fall or from the Queen, you would never know. Still, it left a bitter taste in your mouth and you had to look away for a moment.
“Y/N?” The Prince spoke up, his voice barely above a whisper and dangerously hopeful.
How he knew it was you was lost on you. You still had your hood on, your face shadowed and your entire figure covered in the uniform every royal hunter wore. It took all your willpower not to step back when he moved to get up. It would have been a sign of weakness and you couldn’t allow that.
“Don’t call me that,” you snapped at him, sharp and mean.
Nobody called you by your first name anymore. Now, your name reminded you of summers spent sneaking into the castle kitchen to steal pastry, of horse rides under the scorching sun, laughing and dancing in the pouring rain, stolen kisses under the moonlight. Of how young and naive you were. (A prince and a huntress could never be more after all.)
Then the King died and everything changed.
The Queen’s rule was ruthless. Your training even more. They had turned you into a killer but it was either that or death and you have always been a survivor.
A year had passed since you last saw each other from opposite sides of a room and yet, he didn’t even flinch at your harsh tone.
“Did you come to kill me, Y/N?” He asked simply like one would ask about the weather. You lifted your gaze to his and cursed his bloodline.
Crown Prince.
Heir to the throne.
And here he was running away because the Queen wanted him dead.
“She sent out all the elite hunters. She wants us to take your heart back to her,” you told him, forcing yourself to keep your voice levelled despite the absurdity and brutality of the command.
The Queen wanted him debauched, ruined, in pieces that could not be pierced back together, so nothing would remain for the people to admire. She wanted his beauty to be stained, his memory to fade and his death to serve as a reminder: there would be no other king as long as she was alive.
The Prince took a step towards you, his ethereal face graced with a calm look.
“Then take it. It has been yours all along,” he said but he couldn’t possibly mean that.
“Sunghoon…”
His name fell off your lips like a prayer. Once your favourite word, now it sounded unfamiliar on your tongue. It had been so long. A lifetime.
You thought you wouldn’t feel anything anymore if not resentment or pity. The training had hardened you after all, you had blood on your hands now. And yet, Sunghoon looked at you like you were still in love. It made you wish you could cut your own heart out, watch it beat in the palm of your hand, lock it away in a rusty chest and bury it deep, deep down.
“I can’t run forever. They will find me. I guess I’m lucky you got to me first. I have chosen you as my destiny long ago,” the prince added, resigned, and extended his arm, handing over his dagger, royal emblem and all. He must have known you had a dozen on your body, so it was symbolic. It was a surrender. It was suicide.
You stared at the silver piece of weapon and when you didn’t reach for it, Sunghoon took your hand to close your fingers around its handle. This way you could pretend to feel his warmth despite the gloves you both had on as he pressed the blade’s point against his chest through the vest he wore. Warm blood started dripping down the blade slowly, staining the white snow at your feet carmine red.
“Come on. Do it,” he encouraged you the same way he used to back when you were scared of the world. Now, you were only scared of one thing.
You closed your eyes.
That dawn everything was red and white and eerily quiet.
After sunrise, when the snow started falling again, it covered the footprints left behind and all the secrets they held.
END NOTES. feel free to interpret the ending as you like but we all know the hunter spared snow white, right?
title, summary and that part about destiny are from no way back lyrics
header pic from DARK BLOOD Concept Trailer Photo Sketch
summary. after a rebellion is unraveled in district 3 after the 49th hunger games, the district splits into two sides: the minority condemning the capitol, and the ruling half itching to get back in the capitol’s good graces.
a program is birthed in the academy—your brother, a chosen candidate; you, a volunteer in a desperate attempt to feel seen in the eyes of your mother. what starts noble quickly turns questionable as you uncover the truth behind your family, the program, and the district’s intent.
but it’s too late now, you’ve already signed your life away. who exactly were you winning the games for? — entry for the to rule the world collab
pairings. district 1 tribute!park sunghoon x district 3 tribute!female reader; ft. brother!park jongseong, district 3 tribute!sim jaeyun
genre. hunger games!au, angst, action, dystopian
warnings. none (teaser); swearing, character deaths, graphic depictions of violence, suicidal ideation (whole fic)
word count. 2.2k (teaser), ~30k (whole fic)
to be posted. quarter 2 - 2026 (send an ask to be on the taglist!)
By now, the blood on the Town Square concrete had long dried—trampled by feet and buried beneath layers of dust and pebbles. Like every year before, the District held its breath for Reaping Day—shops closed, school cancelled, people idling. The District streets weren't empty, abuzz with mixed anticipation and dread for the annual event.
There was no one to wake you today, there hasn't been for years now. But you haven't slept a full night in so long, it started not to matter. You rose at the same time every day like clockwork, earlier than most of the District but never your mother. She still prepared breakfast as she always did, only now with less mouths to feed—at least, that didn't change. The scent of freshly fried eggs and toasted pork cuts wafted slipped through the crack between your door and its frame, reminding you of last night's skipped dinner.
The morning was slow, your body carrying the lethargy of long nights of interrupted sleep and little rest. Oddly enough, you felt no nervousness unlike the years before; you felt nothing but a solid lump of dread resting at the pit of your stomach.
"Morning." The scent hit you harder as you left your room and wandered over to the kitchen. The table once made for four had only two seats now, the others repurposed elsewhere in the house—one in front of your vanity and the other a rack in the study.
Your mother turned and smiled, "You're up early." She says it everyday, as she always did with Jongseong—more muscle memory than a greeting for you. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah," you responded, and let her go on about whatever gossip she picked up from your aunts and neighbors until she finished breakfast.
Today's occasion was honored with the more hearty breakfast she prepared, a splurge she reserved for only your greatest milestones. Jongseong was right about one thing the night that he left; that your mother would pay her full attention now that he was out of the picture. What you once begged for now came in excess but at the expense of your own brother.
You broke the truth to her in tidbits, lying about Jongseong's whereabouts at first, before gradually lowering her expectations on her beloved son. He's falling off the ranks and working twice as hard, that's why he isn't coming home anymore. The day you told her the complete truth, your mother froze in the same way she did when she first announced your father's death. But it didn't take long for her to recover, because you were rising up the ranks your brother had once did—filling in the spot he once filled, both in the ranks and in your mother's eyes.
Just like that, you became your mother's most prized possession in the same way Jongseong was once. She took every chance to parade you at gatherings, made sure you wore both the Volunteer's pin and the Candidate's bandana tied around your arm—like a trophy. Every mention of Jongseong was swept under the rug of your own achievements, as if your brother's didn't matter and as if he never existed. Soon enough, the people she conversed with just accepted the fact. In the end, your mother still had a daughter who could save someone else's daughter from the peril Reaping Day brought.
Only she didn't know that her wildcard was due to be used sooner than she thought.
Before you knew it, you were in line to register yourself at the Town Square for the last time. Children filed into their respective rows, sent further back than where they had been the year before as they aged—making room for the twelve year olds at the front who were at their first year.
A familiar scene captures your attention at the entrance, one you once lived a few years ago. A pair of siblings refused to let each other go, both seemingly on their first year. Even as people shoved them about as they tried to get to their own places, they refused to be pulled apart. Then a Peacekeeper interfered and the moment was over, the pair cried as the soldiers dragged them away from each other and into their lines. You tear your eyes away before you could even start to reminisce but it's too late; the bittersweet recollection of being in the same place had already permeated your system.
The ceremony begins with its usual theatrics. The Treaty of Treason plays through the speakers as they showed the President's face on every screen, followed by the introduction of the District representative, and the prior tributes who'd serve as the mentors for this year's tributes. To everyone's surprise, a new mentor graces the stage. For the first time since she won her Games four years prior, Miyawaki Sakura is this year's female tribute mentor.
As the Capitol representative motioned to pick the name of the female tribute, you waited for the nerves to hit but felt nothing. Instead, what replayed in your head was the meeting you had with the Academy President, how he told you that your time had come, even when you were still eligible for the Reaping for the following 2 years. Again, you mistook the offer as an honor—the second after the Execution, but a nagging feeling had begun to creep its way into the back of your mind, that they've done nothing but rob you of two perfectly good years to live, lest you die in the arena.
Sakura was already staring at you from the stage long before the Capitol representative read the female tribute's name, just as a familiar face appears on the screen as her name is called. The Academy President's daughter stared at herself, wide-eyed and horrified. On her last year to be reaped, her name was pulled from the death's lottery. The odds were not in her favor, but her father had long played the cards right—he made sure of it.
You couldn't help but feel bitter that they sold you the false dream of having any agency over your volunteering. You could do it now or the following year; the choice was completely up to you. What bullshit. Even if you didn't volunteer now, would you even have a face to show if you let his daughter die by not taking her place?
Before the older girl could even pass by your row, you already had your arm raised.
I volunteer as tribute.
Heads turn, gasps follow, and everybody waits for the moment your face appears on the screen. The Capitol representative was ecstatic, carrying the enthusiasm everybody else present lacked. The feeling of eyes watching your every move was familiar and it didn't faze you as much as it did back when you volunteered for the Program. It was as if everything had prepared you for this moment and this moment alone.
You walked the aisle where the boys and girls were split, climbed the stage to take your place beside the representative as she fished out a boys name from the enormous bowl.
When Sim Jaeyun is called, nobody volunteers for him and together your arms were raised as they hailed you as this years tributes from District 3. Your mind kicks into focus moments later as it all sinks in, relying on years of training to kick in like an automatic switch. Remember how to act, remember what to do, remember the show begins the second you volunteer and get selected.
But nothing happens. You don't know what to do.
In the eyes of any viewer or a potential sponsor, you wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at the pair District 3 had—a stoic girl whose self-sacrificing act was met with nothing but a deafening silence from the crowd, and a boy who looked like his parents could buy himself out of this situation. No one would be betting on District 3.
As the ceremony ended, you were ushered into the Justice Hall by Peacekeepers and you're reminded of the last time you were there. Unlike the last time, the rooms on the second floor were vacated. Slowly, you were slipping into Sakura's shoes—what has unfolded for her becoming your guide and your anchor.
You were led into separate rooms and before the Peacekeeper could shut the double doors, your mother appeared by the door way. "5 minutes," the soldier announced.
For a moment, your mother simply stared back at you with an unreadable expression. Her eyes watered, her mouth curled into a frown, and yet you weren't sure if her heart ached with yours. "My brave little girl," she whispered.
She opened her arms as she closed the distance, enveloping you in an embrace you haven't felt since you were a kid. Her words echoed in your ear, mirroring the moment she learned you volunteered for the Career Program—a perfect circle. Did it mean you made her proud again?
When she pulled away, the tears have spilled over onto streaks on her cheek. "I didn't expect you to go so soon."
"Neither did I," you admitted. But there were strings to pull and spots to fill.
The rest of your five minutes were spent with her recounting the moments that led here—recalling the day you announced you volunteered, when the Academy President made your candidacy official, when you rose through the ranks; occasionally mixing Jongseong's achievements with yours, but it was a well-rehearsed speech. She never asked what you felt about it, how to keep your head up no matter how low the odds of you getting back were. She was content with this; after so many years of scraping at the bottom of the barrel, she finally had something to hold over someone's head—my child stepped in for yours, you owe me. She was no longer just the wife of a dead man, or the mother of a run-away rebel, or the disappointment of the family. She was the mother of a volunteer tribute, a Career tribute, a potential victor. She could've lived off that forever.
When the Peacekeeper came back to say the five minutes were over, your mother hooked her arm around yours as she whispered in your ear. "Make District 3 proud. Make me proud."
No wish for good fortune, no cheer to do your best. Just one final instruction to her ever obedient daughter. Make it back alive or die trying.
District 1 sat as close to the Capitol as District 3 did, just on the opposite side. Luxury showed not only in their infrastructure but in the way everyone was dressed. Not quite Capitol, but far off from district-wear. Their female tribute is a tall slender woman with a doll face, the mere mention of her name sent a ripple of dissent through the crowd. Uproar, almost. It takes the Peacekeepers a warning shot before the crowd finally settles. What a pretty face could do. Even the woman picking the names from the bowl seemed sorry to see her go.
And for our male tribute we have,” she stalls, swirling her hand around the giant fish bowl before fishing out one of the many folded cards. She walks back to her microphone, exaggerates the motions of opening the card, an audible gasp escaping her lips when she finally says, “Park Sunghoon.”
Again, the crowd begins to rumble in disagreement, on a bigger level than they had with the girl. This was different because even you knew who he was. With his status, he could’ve bought his way into the Capitol already. Heck, you even wondered how he’d never been invited to live there yet. Whenever the Games’ victor came from your District, the Capitol showered the winning District with extra rations and gifts for a year. Sometimes, the Capitol would send groups of performers for added entertainment and they’d stay a week before they disappeared until another Victor brought the bounty home.
Park Sunghoon was the centerpiece of the Holiday specials. When the Victory Parade was over and the train arrived back at the home district just in time for the Holidays, he was almost a guaranteed passenger. Once per visit, he’d hold a performance on ice, one always flocked by the people of the Districts. He was the country’s Ice Prince for as long as you could remember, recalling watching him as a young child prodigy until he grew into the man he was now.
And so did the rest of the nation. So, when his name was called, even the staff in your train cabin started echoing the uproar of District 1. I can't believe he got reaped! Why won’t anyone volunteer?
Sunghoon parted from the crowd and countless eyes followed him as he passed. Arms tried to grab at him, to which he just politely bowed to or gently shook off—embodying the picture perfect prince image he’d built over the years.
When he rose up the stage, the uproar worsened, more from outside the Justice Hall quadrangle. The next warning shot the Peacekeepers fire is no longer aimed at the sky but at someone in the crowd. The camera feed cuts off.
For a moment you wondered how bad did he piss the Capitol off with his retirement to get his name reaped at the Games years later.
(🗯️) please speak up if you are ever getting bullied! don't be afraid to seek help
Sunghoon loved to tease and flirt with you.
You never understood why, he was a huge jerk to everyone but with you he never hurt or did anything to you. Obviously you liked that he didn’t bully you, but it was annoying.
It was annoying mostly because Sunghoon is very handsome. Many girls threw themselves onto him—why did he want you? These girls did everything to ruin your life, at first it started with just them talking a whole bunch of shit but then it got worse.
They started to get physical.
After school they would grab you by the backpack and drag you into an alley where no one really walked past.
You got used to it though. You covered any face bruises with makeup and high socks to cover any leg bruises.
You thought that was the worst they could do. But this was something way worse than any punches and kicks could be.
Edited photos of you were put up on the schools expose website. You and some random guys you had never even seen or met in your entire life, sleeping in a bed with your bare shoulders peeking out under the covers.
This was insane, but not surprisingly many people believed it and called you the school’s whore. In class people would move their desks further away when you would walk in. Girls in the bathroom wrote on the stalls about how you were a whore and you were easy. Boys would whistle and yell about how they wanted a chance.
It was like hell going to school.
But what you didn’t know was that there was one group who didn’t believe the nasty rumors about you.
Heeseung, Jay, and Jake.
From the moment they saw the post, they called bullshit. Out of everyone, they were the only ones who didn’t believe it.
“Yah, we know that y/n would never even imagine doing that shit.” An angry Jay exclaimed when he saw the post. “She doesn’t even let Sunghoon or any guy talk to her, why would she randomly sleep with three assholes.” Jake says while playing some game on his phone.
“Well then, we better find out who did this before Sunghoon finds out.” Heeseung sighs, “if he finds out what they’re saying about her, he’ll go batshit crazy.”
“Why would I go crazy?” Sunghoon says, appearing out of nowhere.
“Oh shi-“ Heeseung yells while slightly flinching. “Oh what’s up Sunghoon, how’s your day hm?” Jay asks trying to avoid being suspicious.
“Don’t even try it, now tell me why I would go crazy.” Sunghoon asks again.
“Listen man, you gotta promise to not flip once I show you this.” Jake says with his phone going to the post. Sunghoons patience was growing thin, “Just show me whatever it is.”
The moment he sees the photos, he feels anger in him. “What is this?” he says, slamming the phone down “Listen man, we have no clue who it is. This was posted yesterday.” Jay says trying to calm him down.
Sunghoon wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, even if he had to do stupid decisions.
The next day at school was probably the worst day.
You walked into class, and the whispers immediately started.
You walked straight to your desk, avoiding all the eyes that were staring deep at you.
The bell rang and the teacher walked in, you tried to pay attention and read your notebook, but the words on the page were blurry. All you could think about was the images, the rumors, just everything that made you feel trapped.
Then you heard a book hitting the desk next to you—it used to be empty since nobody wanted to sit next you. You were surprised to see Jake. It seemed like everyone else was aswell as they stared in shock as he sat next to you.
He leans close to your ear and whispers, “Meet me at the basketball court during lunch, trust me.” and then opened his notebook aswell.
You didn’t have any problems with Jake, if anything he was the nicest out of his friend group. You didn’t trust him exactly, but still went to meet him during lunch.
But when you got there, it wasn’t Jake who was there.
It was Sunghoon.
He stood there with his hands in his pockets, jaw tight. The basketball court was empty except for the two of you.
You froze.
For a moment you thought about walking away. Not wanting anyone to see you both together. But Sunghoon spoke before you could move.
“Y/n,” he said with a soft tone, no smirk or teasing tone. “can we talk?”
“About what?” you asked, eyes fixed on the ground “are you also gonna tell me how im a slut? because if you are then I don’t care.”
“What? no.” he said slightly sounding offended, “I don’t believe any of that shit.”
You finally looked back up at him, surprise in your eyes. There was no mockery in his eyes. He looked angry—not at you—with slight guilt in his eyes.
“Me, Jake, Jay, and Heeseung don’t believe that post for shit, we know its all lies.”
“Then what do you want?” you asked with a quiet tone, “it doesn’t matter anymore—everyones seen it and believed it.”
“Not me though.” he said cutting you off, “I want to help you. I want to get rid of these dumb rumors before you get hurt.”
You scoffed at that, “Before I get hurt? Sunghoon, I’m already hurt.”you felt tears starting to build up, “Do you not see how i’m getting pushed away by friends? How i’m getting beat up everyday now?” you asked frustrated.
He paused at that last question, “What.” he asked, jaw tightening. “What do you mean getting beat up? by who?”
“Why do you even care? Even if I tell you, it won’t matter.” you said.
“It does matter, y/n.” he says, “I don’t think you can tell but I truly care about you. To you might just be teasing, but I truly like you.” he adds while getting closer to you.
He stopped a step away from you, close enough that you could hear his breathing—but he didn’t touch you.
Your hand were now shaking. You hated that he could see that.
“It’s some girls,” you finally said, “Some from the cheer team. Others I don’t even know. They always wait until no ones around.”
Sunghoon went still. His jaw clenched, hard.
“They jump you?” he asked.
You nodded once, barely noticeable.
He looked down, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to keep himself together. After a moment he turns to you.
“Okay.” he said, “Heres what going to happen. You’re not dealing with this alone anymore.”
You shook your head immediately. “No, Sunghoon, I don’t want you fighting anyone or making it worse—“
“I’m not.” he interrupted, calm but serious. “Heeseung already talked to the principal this morning about the post. Jake has all the screenshot. Jay’s cousin works for the school board—we’re reporting everything. The photos, the harasment. the physical stuff. Everything.”
You stared at him in shock, “You… already told them?”
“Yes.” he said. “I’m not letting you deal with this or anything else alone, I will be here for everything you need.”
Your chest tightened, not with fear, but with relief.
Without even thinking you threw yourself onto him, hugging him like he was your only safe space.
“Until this is handled,” he continued while holding you, “you won’t walk alone anymore. One of us three will be with you. If anyone says or does anything—you tell me.”
“You really think they’ll listen?” you asked, laughing weakly.
Sunghoon grabs your chin and makes you meet his eyes, “I don’t care if they listen. I only care that you’re safe.”
The bell rings before you could answer him.
When you walked back in with him, the stares came back immediately—but this time you weren’t alone. Sunghoon stayed with you the whole walk to class. Jake stayed too when he caught up with you guys. Jay wasn’t afraid to yell “Mind your business” at someone. And Heeseung walked with you to your last class when Sunghoon couldn’t.
Things didn’t change overnight.
But the posts were taken down. The principal and teachers started asking questions. The alley stayed empty.
And for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel alone. You had Sunghoon now, and alone was something he never dreamed about making you feel.
