Takes place after the scene in episode 7 where Seong-Je saves Jung-Tae from the union members.
It has been a few days since you heard from Seong-Je, and honestly, it’s not a big surprise that he is off the radar again. However, he always calls you on the third day at the latest. He left you wondering why it was different this time, and the radio silence from him was starting to become troubling.
You sat at your desk, bouncing your leg up and down, anxiously chewing away on your fingernails. Reaching towards your phone, you hurriedly found his number and tried to reach him again. “The number you dialed is not available…” Voicemail, again.
You stood up and started pacing around your room, wondering what to do and how to find him. You weren’t the biggest fan of Na Baek-Jin, but he was your best option at this point.
You went through your contacts and found his number to call him. “Hello?” an uninterested voice came from the other side. “Hi, Baek-Jin. How are you?” You spoke with hesitation. “What do you want from me? Don’t know where Seong-je is?” He asked with annoyance. “Actually, yeah. Can you tell me where he is?” You asked nervously. “Hmm.” He said after a bit of silence and hung up on you.
A minute later, he texted an address. It’s an address to a warehouse that you had never heard of. You quickly thanked him and sneaked out of the house without alerting your parents. Though they wouldn’t even care if they saw you leave.
You ran your way there as it surprisingly wasn’t too far away, and your fear of not seeing him even tonight grew a pit in your stomach, making you rush. You reached there and took a moment to catch your breath before sliding the door open and walking in.
His head shot towards the sound of your foot shuffling in, almost dropping his newly lit cigarette onto the ground. He looked confused and stood up to walk towards you.
You let out a sigh of relief before lunging yourself at him and hugging him with all the strength you could gather. “I missed you. Were you here all this time?” You asked with a hint of worry. “What are you doing here?” He asked in his raspy voice. You let go of him and looked towards his face. Caressing a fresh scar on his face, you smiled softly until you realised that he hadn’t called you for days, for no fucking reason. Slowly, your expression changed from shocked to anger, and before you knew it, you slapped him across the face.
The cigarette in his mouth went flying to the other side of the room. He slowly turned his head to you with his jaw locked in anger. “What the fuck was that for?” He asked sternly. “You haven’t called me for days, what’s wrong with you? You usually send me a text at least.” You shouted at him with annoyance. However, slapping him and shouting at him was the last thing he needed from anybody, especially not from his girlfriend. His pent-up anger was not going to do either of you any good tonight, and he knew it.
He glared at you before reaching his hand to the back of your head and began dragging you towards the couch by your hair to push you onto it. It took you a second to realise that you had fucked up as he scowled towards you before reaching into his pocket and getting a new cigarette. He lit it and took a long drag of smoke from it before sighing.
He bent down to your eye level before gripping both your cheeks using his hand with bloody knuckles. It felt so harsh to the point that your eyes started to tear up in fear. Seong-Je isn’t a bad boyfriend, but he has his moments which make you fear him, and this was one.
He took a slow drag of the cigarette, eyes locked in with yours, and blew the smoke towards your face. You felt yourself start to cough because of it, but his grip on you became stronger until he spoke. “Though you’re my girlfriend, what gives you the right to slap me, huh? You think you’re so tough, princess.” You began squirming in your seat, uncomfortable, scared, and aroused.
A little secret about you is that you love when Seong-Je is terrifying. You love when he speaks to you sternly in his low voice, because you trust him enough to know that he would never truly hurt you. He noticed your squirming before letting go of your face with a harsh enough push to be thrown onto the couch.
You moved up towards the couch when you saw him get on the couch to climb towards you while taking a long drag of smoke. You didn’t know what his next move was and it made you curious. He grabbed your throat and bent down to kiss you roughly. Shotgunning smoke into your mouth, teeth clashing and saliva dripping from the sides. It felt as if you both were fighting for dominance but of course, he easily won and pushed his tongue into your mouth exploring it. You felt the smoke taste in the back of your throat and his glasses dug deep into your cheeks which hurt to the point that you reached towards it and pushed it over his head. He pulled away and reached for the glasses to set it down on the table next to you both before resuming with the kiss. Both your hands were now wrapped around his bloody hand that was on your throat to try and remove it. As the minutes went on, you felt the lack of oxygen in your body.
He finally lets go and you gasp trying to take in as much air as you can into your lungs. He looked at you with a smug smirk on his face as you struggled to breathe. You felt his hands reach towards your shirt and unbutton it slowly. You reached towards his zip-up hoodie and began unzipping it as your hands trembled with desperation.
He took his hoodie off and then pulled your shirt from your arms and tossed it to the side before unbuckling your bra and doing the same to it. You suddenly felt shy when you realised how naked you were compared to him. You tugged his shirt that was under the hoodie indicating that he should take it off. “What, should I be as naked as you now?” He asked teasingly. You nodded shyly, all while hiding your breasts under your arms.
He obliged accordingly, because he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. Maybe even more than you did. He grabbed your arms with one hand and pinned them above your head onto the couch before grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it while licking the other like a hungry animal. You felt yourself become wetter, making you arch your chest towards his face, wanting more. He left little nips and hickeys across your chest and neck before moving to lick your stomach.
He let go of your hands and looked upwards at you before biting the elastic waistband of your shorts to pull it down. Your hand went onto his hand that was still on your chest, and you moved it to your nipple, wanting some more friction to try and relieve how aroused you felt.
He used his other hand to take off both your panties and shorts fully and placed his cigarette on the table next to you both. Afterwards, he settled his hands on your waist, gripping it tightly as he dipped his face down towards your heat, giving it kitten licks just to tease you. Your hand flew towards his hair to try and push his face towards you more, wanting to reach climax. He began licking you more aggressively, mouth covered in your wetness.
You couldn’t help but start rolling your hips against his face and moaning loudly as he stimulated your clit. His one hand reached downwards and circled your entrance before plunging two fingers into you. He began fucking you with his fingers that reached deep inside you. You felt yourself going lightheaded with all the stimulation that was starting to become too much. You indicated this by trying to push his face away from you.
He looked up when you began trying to push him away from you. He began getting more excited feeling you try to fight the pleasure he gave you. His hand easily took both of your hands and locked them into place like before and began kissing you making you taste yourself all while fucking you with his fingers. He felt himself growing a boner in his pants, which was starting to become bothersome because of how aroused he was. Not even seconds after he began kissing you, the climax washed over you aggressively, making you moan into the kiss.
He slowly let go of your hands and lips to examine your fucked-out face that was filled with bliss as you slowly caught your breath. He removed his fingers from you, making you shiver a bit. He then moved to unbuckle his belt and jeans. He took his belt and brought your hands together to restrain it, before flipping you over onto your stomach. “Ass up, beautiful.” He quietly spoke into your ear before biting it. You felt the pain of the bite, making you quickly obey his words.
He gave his cock a few pumps before burying himself in your wetness. He groaned in satisfaction, because believe it or not, he missed you so much, even though he would never say it to your face. You felt so full and was trying to adjust to his size after weeks of not doing it, as you both had been busy even before he went off the radar.
He began a slow pace before fastening, creating a rough rhythm, making you whine and making him moan. He reached over to the cigarette to take long drags of smoke while fucking you. After all, doing it with you was ecstasy to him because he worshiped your body like no other. While he did love you so much, he also loved to see you cry in pain.
An idea popped into his head as he was fucking you, which caught you by surprise. Your eyes widened as you felt hot circles of burn on your butt. It didn’t take you long to realise that he was putting off the cigarette on your butt. You panicked and began fumbling with his belt on your wrists. “What are you doing?” You asked hurriedly, trying to see. He chuckled and said, “What do you think?”
He then tossed the cigarette to the side before licking his hand to calm down your burn marks. You quietly sobbed as he did it because, one, it hurt and two, it felt good at the same time that you felt embarrassed. He noticed that you were crying and couldn’t help but smile. He reached to your hair and pulled your head up from it and took a good look at your face before licking your tears and peppering your face with kisses. You couldn’t help but whimper as you felt loved, how ironic. He whispered in your ear, “You know I love you, right?” You knew very well, after all, he was always loyal to you no matter how he treated you at times.
He always looked after you when you felt down about anything. Whenever a guy would even look at your way or try to approach you, he would be like a guard dog ready to fight them off. He treasured you a little too much to the point that he was scared of how possessive he felt over you. “Yes my love, I know.” You croaked out weakly but happily.
He flipped you over to admire your face while he fucked you deep. He placed a palm of his hand on your lower stomach while holding your waist so he could feel himself fuck you. This pressure pushed you over the edge making you see stars and made him groan.
After a while of doing so, he got rid of his belt on your wrists so you could reach out to him and hug him as he fucked you to reach his climax, but Seong-Je always puts your sexual needs above his and makes you reach it before him.
He kissed you as he held you close, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as your fingernails scratched his back with aggression. He locked his eyes onto yours before giving a few final thrusts which made you both reach the climax together. You couldn’t help but bite his shoulder to mask your moan as he filled you up with his cum. This made him moan and groan a little too loudly than he would’ve preferred, which you loved.
You let go of his shoulder and peppered a few kisses from his shoulder to his face while caressing it. He pulled out of you and laid beside you while breathing heavily and hugging you close to him.
You felt his heart beat loudly against his chest. At this point, you didn’t even care for an explanation as to why he gave you radio silence for longer than you would’ve liked. He was there, and you were in his arms; it was all you needed to feel all the comfort in the world.
A/N: Comissioned by @tojii11 ... as always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.
Since you've known him as of late, lying has become almost as voluntary as breathing. It should scare you, how fluidly a lie slips past the confines of your lips. Making you more and unrecognizable to even your own self.
"I'm tutoring late tonight."
"I’m studying at the library,"
“I'm having dinner with a friend.”
You didn't have many of those. Had your parents been the caring type they might have known that friends were a luxury you could not afford.
Still, it bothered you that you were making excuses for him. You were helping yourself get extorted everytime you stole for him and everytime you didn't let a living soul know.
The first few times were as difficult as it ever got. But the more you were forced to work for him, the more he corrupted you-the more that infection spread until it became all you were.
"What do you need that much money for anyway?" You squeeze your phone tighter with one hand while the other sits in your blazer pocket. You maintain a calm, controlled gait as you walk out of the school gates, surrounded by your peers dressed in the same uniform walking in clumps of groups- little ecosystems that they formed to help manage their anxieties. You wish you had their problems: Boys. Makeup. Parties.
You wish you had your own little ecosystem. A group who'd be more concerned with strengthening your mental health, not deteriorating it.
"You think school trips to Bali are gonna be cheap?" It was always easier to lie to her over the phone or through text. There was something biting in your mother's eyes that you couldn't always face. Something that would eat you alive if she found out you've been working for the kind of people you're working for.
"Backtrack on the attitude," her words snipe you through the receiver like barbed wire, "It's just strange that they're organizing a field trip in the height of your assignments like this..."
"It's an incentive I guess. They're telling us about it now for extra motivation to see this exam season through.." lies lies and more lies. Your mouth is full of them.
"I don't know if I want you to be thinking about a trip to Bali during all this work... have you been improving?"
There was no improvement with her. Only perfection. She tried your whole life to wipe you squeaky clean until you were spotless. If only she knew that over the past year you've acquired a spot almost impossible to scrub away. He's irremovable. Or at least you thought he was...
"When did you say your field trip was? Perhaps your father and I will tag along, make a family vacation out of it. We never see you anymore because you're always studying and Bali is lovely all-year round-" while your mother talks, your heart sinks and panic festers. You try to focus your steps on making it across the road, down a path you've walked all year.
"Mom, please don't be embarrassing."
"How am I being embarrassing?"
"You'll be the only parent there." Above you, the afternoon sun sits snugly against the horizon, guiding you down a decrepit lane. Stray cats and empty soju bottles litter the street the farther you walk from the safety of the school grounds. You're getting closer and you needed her to send the money.
"It's my money. I can do with it as I please."
You scramble your brain, searching furiously for a lifeline.
"It's just..." More and more lies, "This trip is actually just Geo-camp. Our teachers planned a few cave explorations. We're gonna check out the different stalactites and stalagmites-your presence might hinder my concentration-"
In the distance, the warehouse looms and your fist in your blazer pocket begins to coil.
"Why didn't you say so in the first place instead of wasting my time?” Your mother tsks, “I've sent the money to your account."
"Thank you ma'am..."
The call ends abruptly, void of any warmth. Void of any love. You pull your phone away from your ear and your nerves settle as you see the money reflecting. You suddenly feel bigger than this warehouse- bigger than life itself- like you're armed and ready to take on anything this rabid dog might throw at you.
You tilt your head back to watch the clouds disappear behind the iron roof and you steal your nerves. Word on the street is that this place once belonged to Baek Jin before his untimely disappearance. Until, naturally, a wolf came in and marked it as his own...
The nearer you get to the slightly opened door, the clearer the sound becomes: You hear the sound of a broken man groaning and your body has a visceral reaction. By now you recognize the sound of a fist slamming against human flesh and bone. You know what that sounds like and it haunts you through those quiet moments at night when it was just you and your memories. You fight the urge to stop walking, something in you tugging and begging to just walk away. It's either this or remain a slave for the rest of your foreseeable future.
That thought is enough to have you sucking in one final breath of air before waltzing into the warehouse. It's dark, the air damp and stuffy with little to no circulation. Despite the location, the interior is somewhat tidy and were it not for the man kneeling and bleeding on the floor, you might have thought the place fitting for any dignified bachelor.
“I didn't expect to see you today,” Seongje addresses you the moment you step in. His fist is paused in mid air and it's pulled back as if you'd just saved the man on the floor from experiencing one final blow.
He smiles at you, as if he didn't have blood on his knuckles. As if he didn't have a man on his knees, pleading for his life. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Seongje asks, before digging his fingers into the boys scalp. You hide your trembling hands in the pockets of your blazer and you appear as unaffected as you possibly can when Seongje tilts the man's face to look up at you. “This is Eungmin. He's very cute, very small.” Seongje smiles. “Eungmin is getting beat unconscious because he's been stealing some of my money for himself, isn't that right, Eungmin-a?”
The man’s left ise completely disappeared under a swollen mass of flesh. His skin is broken in several places- all is red and yet he still tries… “P-please-” his words are slurred. You can tell he's getting closer and closer to blacking out. His brain can't comprehend the words leaving his mouth and it's far too painful to watch. “My grandfather's sick and- I needed the money-”
“Sob, sob, sob, stories, Eungmin-a,” Seongje lets go of the man's head before tucking his hands into his pockets. Eungmin sways from side to side as Seongje rounds his bruised and battered body, tsking lightly like a scolding parent.
Before you're made witness to any more bloodshed, possibly even a murder, you grab your phone out of blazer pocket and with trembling hands you press a few buttons on your screen.
Seongje's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pockets. He taps away at the device with bloodied fingers, his orange windbreaker stained with the same blood and for a moment, all is quiet.
Seongje stares blankly at his screen.
“What's this?” He asks without looking up.
Something in you tells you that you have the upper hand. Power has shifted, even minutely and it gives you the courage to reply back, “It's an incentive.”
Seongje's dark eyes finally flit up to you and you're arrested by that wolfish grin. “Big words.” He smirks. “You want a promotion or something?”
You ready your voice. “Actually, Seongje, I’m looking for a way out.”
More silence but this time, it's fucking suffocating. Even the man on the floor, the man who's experienced the very worst of Seongje's wrath has his mouth slightly open from shock.
“I never want to steal for you again. I never want to do anything for you again.” You find your voice in the rubble of your pain and all your anxieties that have gone unnoticed by the adults around you. “I never wanna see you again.”
He nods slowly. “I hear you.” Seongje's voice is calm. So calm it births a sliver of hope inside you: Maybe he'll just accept the money and you might actually be free. You could go back to being a girl forgotten by the rest of the world but this time, it'd be on your own terms. You'd love to be invisible again. Invisible girls don't get extorted like this.
“It's just… I'm really sensitive-”
The very moment those words leave his mouth, the moment a glimmer of a smile flits onto your lips, Seongje delivers a bone-cracking punch to the man's jaw.
You gasp and cup your mouth with both hands. Shocked.
The man slumps over, face hitting the floor. Knocked out cold.
“This is interesting.” Seongje says but you can't look away at the man laying on the ground. His body twitches periodically until there's barely any movement at all. Were you looking at someone passed out or were you staring at a corpse?
Soengje doesn't care about either outcome because he's already lighting a cigarette, standing as if pondering something else entirely.
“Where'd you get this money from?”
“D-Does-” you swallow thickly, “-it matter?”
He nods his head slightly before sticking the cigarette on the tip of his lips, “I could buy a million cig packs with this. The good kind too,” he chuckles, “Fuck, I could buy a fucking factory-”
“It's not that much-”
“Are you rich?” He asks suddenly, ramping up your nerves as he tucks his hands in his pockets to stalk closer towards you. “Have I been extorting a princess this whole time and I didn't know it?” You make your body an iron rod- your face cold. Something like him can't sense discomfort or he'll play with it.
“Not rich,” you say, “Just desperate…”
His feet stop directly in front of you and you keep your gaze there. Not daring to look up at him until he brings his own index finger under your chin, tilting it up.
“I like that word… Desperate.” He blows out a plume of smoke but not in your face. The small, gentlemanly act is almost laughable.
“Seongje, at this rate I'll be working for you for the rest of my life-”
“The rest of your life…” he nods slowly, looking away in a pensive manner before looking back at you, “That sounds fun, doesn't it?”
“Seongje- please just accept the money…”
“Are you calling me poor?”
“That's not what I'm saying at all and honestly, I feel like you know that's not what I'm saying-” your brows are furrowed, voice rising.
“So I'm delusional then?” He asks with a smile.
“Why do you get off on making yourself a victi-” his hand contracts around your throat and it tightens.
“Lemme stop you from saying what you wanna say because you really won't like the outcome.”
He squeezes one more time in warning before letting you go
“Why would I let you go? You're so perfect for me. We work well together.”
“Seongje, Please-”
“Shh… shh… shh…” he lets the cigarette hang off the side of his mouth before cupping both of your cheeks with both hands. He pushes back a stray braid and you tremble under the weight of not only his hands, but his gaze. His eyes are two endlessly cold voids. You don't wonder what's behind those eyes because you bet there's nothing there.
So focused, you've become, with Seongje's eyes, you barely notice his hand slithering down your neck. He feels you, touches you like he's just discovered something new…
“You've just made me more money than any of these useless scumbags ever have…” He stands closer and you watch as he opens his mouth to let the cigarette fall to the floor. You hear his foot stomp on it but your eyes are hazy with tears.
“I pride myself on being a good businessman… Letting you go?” He tsks, “That's not very good business.”
“Please, Seongje-”
“I do believe in rewards though so…” he lets his hand roam lower and lower. On its way down, he squeezes you tit through your shirt, causing a small gasp to slip through.
“Is it okay?” He asks in a low voice, “That im touching you like this?”
He waits patiently for a response that never comes. Truth is, you're completely and utterly overwhelmed. Caught in a web of feeling good and fucking terrible.
A tear falls.
“Shh,” he pats down your hair while all too slyly inching his hand up your skirt. “Seongje will make you feel better-”
You could tell him to stop, but your mind is clouded with all sorts of contradictions. You can't lie some more and say you don't find him even a little bit attractive. Isn't it fucking terrible how that works? This man has tormented you and yet-
“You're so wet, Princess,” you open your legs wider, only flinching when his fingers rub against your clothed cunt. You don't have the energy to look up at him, but you notice the visceral reaction his body is having from all this.
Over his shoulder, you notice the bloodied man unconscious on the floor.
“You just became wetter-” he whispers into your ear before cursing ever so lightly as his finger pushes aside your panties. You notice his movements becoming less controlled, far more hungry and you begin to pull away.
“Say it.” He urges, before fisting your neck in one tight grip. “I need you to say it.”
In a moment that feels unreal, Seongje pushes you backwards, forcing your feet into motion until he has you firmly pressed against a wall. “Say we work well together- tell me-”
You can't very well say much of anything because he's already sinking his index and middle finger into your cunt. Your mouth flies open and you're caught in a silent cry.
“Fuck- Look at how well we work together…” he says, bringing his fingers up to the light. He watches your slick coat, his fingers and something in you coils with disgust and immense pleasure.
His eyes immediately snap to you the second a small moan croaks out.
“F-Fuck-” you gulp in all the air you possibly can when his grip around your throat loosens. There's absolutely no space between you as he crowds you against the wall, staring down at you with the bad fluorescents reflecting against his glasses.
“You don't get to do that… You don't quit on me. I quit on you.” He's forcing his hand between your legs, this time he fucks you properly. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and a tear falls.
“Say sorry.” He taunts with another manic smile flitting across his face, “I want you to take my fingers and tell me how sorry you are-”
“F-Fuck Seongje-” your hips snap awards and you stare up at him with watery eyes- watery eyes that havr his cocktail straining against his pants. He brings you in close by the nape of your neck while he forces you down until your clit meets the palm of his hand.
“You keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna cum. And I hate cumming first.”
“Shit…” your eyes roll to the back of your head as you force yourself to grind down on his fingers. His hand around your throat is the only thing keeping you somewhat upright. You've slipped into that mental soace where you'll embarrass yourself to achieve orgasm. You needed this.
And him.
“What a greedy slut, huh? Tell me you're done with me. I want you to say it again-”
You can't say much of anything because you grab ahold of his wrist, keeping his fingers inside you as your orgasm crests and breaks.
You're screaming wildly, devoid of all rational thought, unprepared by the fact that a bleeding man still lays forgotten on the cold floor. All you feel is him. Jts all him and its suffocating.
You've quite literally found yourself in the clutches of a sadist and he's guiding You gently through your orgasm… patting your head down lightly like you were a delicate baby bird.
summary: in which you got yourself tangled up with geum seongje. at first, it was trouble. then, it became routine. until, somehow, you became the only thing he would bleed for—willingly, violently, without regret.
pairing: geum seongje x fem!reader
genre: romance, hurt/comfort, angst
word count: 6.2k
playlist: he was chaos, he was revelry
last.
you were crouched by the side of a quiet alley behind a convenience store, setting down a paper plate with tuna and a cup of water. a tiny stray kitten had been hanging around there lately, mistrustful, but hungry. you've seen it a few times and started bringing food when you pass by.
the kitten was peeking out from under a box, inching closer. you kept still, one hand out, speaking low and soft.
then, there was a crash. a loud bang echoed from farther down the alley, and the sound of something—someone—getting slammed into a wall.
the kitten bolted instantly, disappearing into a gap between buildings.
you groaned under your breath, standing up with an irritated huff. not only did it startle the kitten, but it also startled you. you almost stumbled from the shock of the loud noise, your heart pounding rapidly.
"what the hell..." you stepped a little farther out to see the source, and then you saw him. a tall guy, maroon uniform jacket slipping off one shoulder, face stretched, hair a mess. bloodied knuckles and eyes wild.
he wasn't from your school. and by the looks of it, his opponent was already down. two more stood at a distance, too afraid to move.
the man lifted his head once, cracking his neck. then his eyes landed on you. you didn't flinch. just stared with narrowed eyes.
"go start your fight somewhere else," you said evenly. "you're not from around here."
he raised his brows and stared like he hadn't heard you right. then he smiled, crooked and wild. the kind that says, 'you've just made things interesting.'
you turned your back on him and walked off, not giving him another glance.
he stared after you. not many people talked to him like that. even fewer walked away before he decided the conversation was over.
you didn't run, but didn't linger either. just walked like you had somewhere to be, like he wasn't worth wasting another second on.
his eyes remained on you, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. a faint cut on his knuckle stung, but barely noticed.
'go start your fight somewhere else.'
'you're not from around here.'
not a scream. not a plea. not even a threat. just pure irritation. like he was some dumb dog that pissed on your shoes.
his grin curled slowly, something unhinged hiding just beneath it. he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, stuck it between his teeth, and lit it. the flame briefly flickered across his face before he took a drag and blew the smoke out lazily.
he'd seen people cry, scream, and beg. he'd seen how most people either froze or ran when they saw him, faces tight with fear, eyes darting around. but you?
you looked at him like he was an eyesore.
his laugh came quiet. brief. half-laugh, half-breath.
feeding a stray cat, he thought, like it was some ridiculous joke the universe threw at him. you looked too soft for your own good, too normal, too boring.
so why did you stick?
he leaned his shoulder against the wall, just for a second. watched the street where you disappeared. his blood was still warm from the fight, but that moment? that edge in your voice?
it was the first time he felt interrupted.
not threatened, not challenged. just... like someone reached into his noise and pulled something to the surface.
he didn't know your name. but that was fine. he had time.
it wasn't the next day, or the day after. but seongje still found himself wandering near that same alley. always around the same time. leaning against walls with a cigarette between his lips, smoke curling above his head like a restless thought that wouldn't burn out.
he wasn't waiting, he told himself. he just happened to be here, just passing time.
he was mid-drag when he caught a flash of familiar movement. dark hair, a recognizable bag slung over one shoulder. you were crouched near the alley's corner again, opening a can of tuna. next to your feet was the same stray kitten from before, now a little less wary, its ears twitching.
you didn't notice him at first. he said nothing.
he watched you feed the kitten. your expression wasn't anything special, just calm, focused, lips pressed together in a straight line. but he stared like it was the most peculiar thing in the world, like you were something unreal.
then you sighed and sat back on your heels, that's when your eyes flicked up, and landed right on him. you tensed slightly, like you were trying to figure out if it was him or just some other delinquent in a maroon uniform.
it was definitely him.
"you again? you muttered, standing slowly, brushing off your knees. "don't tell me you're here to start trouble again."
seongje let the cigarette dangle loosely between his fingers, gaze half-lidded. "don't flatter yourself. this is my spot now."
you snorted. "your spot? pretty sure this alley existed before you."
a grin pulled at his lips, slow and amused. that sharp glint in your eyes was still there. that same irritation, not fear, not interest. just a girl who didn't give a damn who he was.
"you always talk this much when feeding cats?" he asked.
"no. just when someone interrupts." he laughed, quiet but real.
you moved to step past him, clearly done with the conversation. but before you could, he flicked his cigarette to the ground and said slowly, "you don't scare easy, do you?"
you paused. "i don't like getting caught up in situations like this."
you walked off before he could say anything else. same calm steps. same complete disinterest in him. he stared at the kitten as it ate.
for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel bored.
you were coming out of the convenience store with a yogurt drink in hand when you felt someone matching your pace beside you.
you didn't even need to look. you felt it, like the air shifted, a shadow slipping in just a bit too close.
"miss cat-feeder," came the drawl, smug and lazy.
you rolled your eyes and kept walking. "seriously?"
"you remembered me," he said, hands in his pockets, leaning slightly sideways to peer at your face.
"no. i remembered your stupid voice."
"ouch," he grinned. "you wound me."
"what do you want?"
"just walking. not allowed to exist now?"
"not next to me, preferably." he chuckled at that, keeping stride with you anyway.
he walked like he owned the sidewalk, like even the cracks made space for him. he kept glancing at you, amused by how hard you were trying not to look.
"don't you have school?" you muttered.
"skipped."
"of course you did."
there was a beat of silence before he casually reached out and tugged at the hem of your sleeve. "what flavor?"
you jerked your arm away. "touch me again and i'll pour this on your head."
his grin widened, eyes gleaming with delight. there it is. "you're fun."
"i'm really not."
"exactly."
you stopped in your tracks. he looked at you, curious. "look," you said, eyes flat. "i don't like hanging out with loud people. so if you're looking for someone to flirt with, pick someone else."
seongje stared at you for a second, unreadable. then he smirked.
"i'm not flirting."
"good."
"i just like watching you get pissed." and with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, hands back in his pockets like he didn't just drop a live wire into your day.
you watched him go, jaw tight.
god, he is annoying.
and worse, he knew it.
your shoes pounded against the pavement, too loud, too fast. the voices behind you were still getting closer. slurred words, the kind that came with guys who had too much time and nothing to lose. you'd told them off when they first approached, sharp and dismissive like always. but these ones didn't like hearing 'no'.
you darted around a corner, trying to cut into a side street you didn't usually take, and slammed straight into a body.
you stumbled back from the force, hands catching yourself on the person's chest, eyes wide and breath caught in your throat.
"whoa there," a familiar voice started, light and teasing.
your eyes shot up.
geum seongje.
of all people.
he was in his usual disheveled uniform, cigarette tucked between his fingers, a faint smirk already creeping up like instinct. "you really can't stay away from me, huh?"
but you weren't listening. you glanced over your shoulder, eyes scanning the street you just came from, anxiety tightening your features.
seongje's smirk faded, just a bit. his eyes narrowed.
"what happened?"
"none of your business. i need to go."
you stepped to the side, trying to move past him but his arm shot out fast, catching you by the wrist. not hard. not enough to hurt. but firm.
his voice lost all its humor.
"who."
you jerked against his grip, frustrated. "just let me go. jesus christ."
he didn't. instead, his eyes flicked toward the corner you came from. and for a brief second, something flickered through him, that thing he tried to keep under the surface unless it was time to let it loose.
then he heard footsteps and voices getting closer. the guys rounded the corner, laughing, loud, eyes scanning.
and then they saw you.
and then him.
one of them started to speak, some dumb threat halfway out of his mouth when seongje stepped forward and flicked his cigarette.
"alright," he said, eyes gleaming now. "which one of you thought chasing her was a good idea?" his tone didn't rise. he didn't shout. but it was enough.
the shift in the air was immediate, like a wire pulled taut. the guys slowed, uneasy.
"you with her?" one of them muttered, trying to size him up. seongje's lip curled in amusement.
"nah," he said, rolling his shoulder. "but she ran into me. so now you've got a problem."
one of them laughed nervously, already starting to backpedal. but it was too late.
you didn't say a word. his posture changed, loose and wild, but sharp, like the crackle before a fire starts.
"stay behind me," he muttered without looking at you. you almost snapped at him.
i didn't ask for help.
but something in the way he said it—flat, final—made you stay put.
he didn't do it for gratitude. he did it because someone pissed him off. and right now, that someone was anyone who looked at you wrong.
they didn't get the chance to react further. not really, because seongje's already on them.
the first one barely managed to raise his arm before seongje slammed his fist into his jaw, the sound cracking through the alley like a gunshot. he didn't stop, he grabbed the guy by the collar, slamming his head against the wall once, twice, three times until he crumpled like dead weight.
the second guy tried to pull something, maybe a pocketknife, but he was too slow. seongje grabbed his wrist and bended it the wrong way with a sickening snap. the guy howled, dropping the knife, and seongje grinned wider.
the last one tried to run. he got maybe five steps before seongje tackled him from behind, dragging him down like a wolf ripping through prey. there was nothing clean about the way he beat him. just pure rage unleashed in fists, knees, elbows, and feet.
the alley was quiet again. the three guys were groaning, two on the ground and one stumbling away. none of them dared to look back.
seongje stood in the center of it, breathing a little heavier, the scrape on his knuckles raw and fresh. blood trickled slowly down his arm, but he didn't seem to care. not even a glance at it.
you stared. not because you were scared of the violence. you'd known what he was capable of. you'd just never seen it up close. not like this.
there was a kind of stillness around him now, but it wasn't peace. it was the kind of stillness right after lightning hits the ground. charged, dangerous, humming under the surface.
he turned toward you, running a hand through his hair. eyes sharper now, less unhinged than before, but still wild.
"you good?" you hesitated.
"you didn't have to do that." he shrugged.
"i didn't do it for you." you frowned, annoyed.
"then why-"
"they looked at you like they could touch you," he said, voice low and quiet. "i didn't like that."
it came out too calm. like he was just stating a fact. like it was that simple.
you stared at him. "that's not normal."
he tilted his head. "i'm not normal."
you stood there in the silence again, tension thick between you both. then he looked down at his hand, flexed his fingers once.
"you gonna keep staring, or you gonna say thank you?"
you exhaled sharply. "i didn't ask you to help."
his lip twitched. "you didn't have to."
you started walking past him, brushing your shoulder lightly against his arm. "don't follow me."
he didn't. but he watched you go. watched like a wolf who'd just caught the scent of something that didn't run fast enough.
and this time, it wasn't about teasing you for attention anymore. it was something else. something worse.
something's changed. it had been days. you hadn't seen him near the alley, near the store, nowhere. and honestly, you were glad. the fight had left a sour taste in your mouth. not fear exactly, but it reminded you of the line he walked. the kind of line that most people never went near.
so when you saw him again leaning against the vending machine right outside the store, your steps faltered.
he noticed, eyes tracking you immediately. not grinning, not talking. just watching.
you stiffened, but kept walking. no use turning back now. you passed him without a word.
"you're avoiding me," he said. you didn't stop. "smart," he added after a beat.
that did it. you turned slightly, arms crossed, tone flat. "what do you want now?"
he looked you over, slower this time. less playful. like he was measuring something invisible.
"you said don't follow you," he said. "so i didn't."
"and yet, here you are."
"i was here first."
you hated that he had a point.
he pulled out a soda from the vending machine and cracked it open, taking a lazy sip. "i scared you."
"no you didn't."
his head tilted. "but you looked at me different after that day." you didn't reply. "you don't like people like me," he went on. "you don't like what i do. the way i fight. the way i look at you."
your throat tightened. "you make it sound like i'm supposed to like it."
he smiled, small, almost secret. "you're not."
you sighed and turned away again, but this time, his voice became lower. less teasing.
"you're not scared of me," he said. "but you're careful now." you paused. "i get it," he added. "but you should know something."
"what?" you asked warily.
"i'd kill for you without thinking."
the words didn't sound romantic. they didn't even sound intense. they were just real.
heavy. simple. dangerous.
you looked at him. at the bruised knuckles, the lazy posture, the eyes that never stopped watching you. and for the first time, you didn't see an annoying prick. you saw the storm behind his grin.
you didn't say a word as you walked away. but you walked slower this time.
the sky was gray, and the wind carried that dry chill that always came with autumn.
you didn't mean to come this way. really, you didn't. but this street was quieter than the main road, and your head was already aching from a whole day of voices, noise, and pressure from everyone around you.
your friends had found out. not just about anyone, but him. a certain delinquent hanging around you. not just anyone either, but someone from the union.
they kept telling you the same thing. stop meeting him, cut him off, stay away before things got worse. that's all you've been hearing for days. from different mouths, but the same message, over and over. as if you hadn't thought about that already. like you hadn't been trying.
you were tired. bone-deep, soul tired.
and there he was.
same place. same vending machine. like he'd been waiting, but not really. like he knew you'd come eventually.
seongje glanced up, surprised, but only a little. his cigarette burned lazily between his fingers, his jacket loose, like he didn't care how cold it was getting.
you stopped a few steps away and didn't say anything.
he raised a brow. "lost?"
"no," you said, too flat, too fast.
he stared. then blew out smoke in a low exhale. "you look like shit."
you snorted faintly. "thanks."
he nodded toward the chair beside him. "sit if you want."
"i didn't come to hang out with you."
"didn't say you did."
still, you sat. not close, just near enough to feel the warmth of someone else existing beside you. near enough to not feel completely alone. you stayed like that for a while. nothing said.
then, without looking at him, you muttered, "why are you like this?"
his brow quirked. "like what?"
"crazy. violent. all of it."
a beat. then a shrug. "it's fun."
you sighed, frustrated but not surprised.
and then, so softly that he almost didn't hear it, you said, "you make everything worse. but today... i don't know. you don't feel loud." that caught him off guard.
he turned to look at you, cigarette paused halfway to his lips.
you didn't meet his eyes. you just sat there, face turned to the street. like this, quiet and tired and not trying to prove anything, you looked different.
more fragile. not weak, never that. but human.
seongje flicked his ash away. "stay, then," he said. "if it helps."
you didn't answer. but you didn't leave either. and for once, he didn't push you to speak. he just let you be. which, for someone like him, was a kind of affection.
the unspoken kind.
the kind that doesn't ask for anything back.
another day, and there he was again. it wasn't often that you saw him alone like this. really alone. no noise. no laughter. no fights.
just seongje, slouched low on the steps behind an old building, elbows on his knees, head tilted back like he was trying to drown in the grey sky. he didn't notice you at first, too wrapped in whatever chaos lived behind his eyes.
you should've kept walking. you meant to keep walking. but something stopped you. maybe it was the stillness. maybe it was the fact that for the first time since you met him, he didn't look like someone trying to stir shit up. he looked tired.
you approached slowly, footsteps soft. he heard you eventually, turning just slightly to glance your way. his usual grin didn't show up.
"you stalking me now?" he said, voice low, like he couldn't be bothered to make it sound playful.
"i was just walking by."
"uh-huh."
you didn't sit beside him. you stood a little off to the side, arms folded, eyes scanning his face. there was a bruise on his cheekbone, not fresh but healing, and a split on his lower lip.
"what happened this time?"
"some idiot." he muttered. "deserved worse than what he got."
you rolled your eyes. "that doesn't narrow it down."
he smirked faintly. but it didn't last. he looked back up at the sky. "ever feel like you're stuck in a room that's too small, and the only way to breathe is to break something?"
you blinked. that wasn't the answer you expected. you said nothing.
he let out a low breath. "yeah. never mind."
you hesitated, then stepped closer. not sitting, just standing near him.
"i don't get you." you said finally.
"good."
"but i care."
that made him look at you again. not with that lazy, cocky grin. not with the sharp glint he gave the people he was about to wreck.
just... eyes. dark, unreadable, confused.
"you care?" he repeated, almost mocking, but there was no real heat in it.
you nodded. "i don't want to, but i do."
the silence that followed was heavier than anything he could've said.
you rubbed at your sleeve, eyes darting away. "it's stupid."
he stared a second longer, then tilted his head. "i'm not gonna be good for you," he said flatly. no apology in it. just fact.
"i know."
"i'll hurt people."
"i know."
"i might hurt you."
your gaze snapped back to his. "then i'll leave."
a pause.
and for the first time, his expression shifted, something sharp flickering behind his eyes, like the idea of you leaving physically bothered him.
but you held his stare. "i don't deserve to be hurt by you."
he didn't answer. when you turned to go, he didn't stop you. he didn't grab your wrist. he didn't make a scene. he just watched you leave like someone who'd been left too many times before to call out now.
and that was how you knew it wasn't just some sort of game to him anymore.
it was supposed to be just another normal day. you were going to meet up with a friend from a different school. but somehow, word got around that you'd said something snappy to the wrong group of boys the other day, boys who thought they could intimidate you into taking it back. you didn't.
but now they were standing in front of you in the alley near the rear exit of the building. three of them, too close, too smug, and too stupid to understand that they were walking into something far worse than your sharp tongue.
because seongje had seen.
he wasn't supposed to be there. you didn't even know why he was around this part of the city. but the second his eyes locked on the scene, on you cornered, arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched, something dark lit behind his expression.
he didn't run. he didn't shout. he just walked, calm as anything, like he had all the time in the world. the sound of his steps echoing on the pavement made all three boys turn.
"oi," he said, voice low and slow.
the boys stiffened. one of them scoffed. "the hell are you?"
seongje grinned cockily. "me? i'm geum seongje. you dumb fucks."
his name dropped like a dead weight. the air shifted. one of them paled a little, while another took an unconscious step back.
"oh—shit—" one of them muttered under his breath, recognizing it too late.
then his eyes flickered to you. "you okay?"
you swallowed. "i've got it."
"wrong answer."
he passed the boys like they weren't even there, stepping between them and you, like drawing a line they couldn't cross anymore.
"you wanna explain why the hell you're trying to corner mine?"
the word slipped out like instinct. your breath caught.
the boys hesitated. one of them backed up. the dumbest one laughed nervously.
"you serious, man? you dating this chick or something?"
seongje didn't answer right away. instead, he pulled out his glasses, the metal catching the light for a second. then, without a word, he took your hand gently, almost unnervingly so, and placed them in your palm.
"i don't repeat myself."
and that was the only warning they got. it wasn't a fight. it was a statement.
a clear, brutal, one-sided reminder that you were off-limits. that if they so much as looked at you again, they'd wake up in pieces.
he didn't let it last long. he didn't need to.
when it was over, and the three of them were groaning on the pavement, he turned to you, no grin now, just quiet breathing. without a word, he took the glasses from your hand and slid them back on.
"you didn't need to do that," you said quietly.
"they shouldn't have looked at you like they could."
"that's not how this works."
he glanced at you, sharp. "it is now."
you looked away, jaw tight. "you act like i'm yours."
another beat of silence. the only sound was the wind through rusted fences. and then,
"you are," he said simply.
you stared at him, your heart thudded too loud.
"you can't just—claim people."
"i can."
"why?" he held your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his.
"you're the only thing i don't want broken."
he said it like it bothered him. like the truth of it irritated the hell out of him.
you didn't know what to say. so you didn't. you just walked beside him as he left the alley, silent. but this time, you stayed close.
and this time, he didn't grin. he just walked with you like he always meant to.
the day had been long. longer than you thought it would be. school, people, life. everything felt suffocating. your body ached, your mind was frayed, and every little thing seemed to pile on top of you until you could barely keep your head above water.
but then, through the haze of exhaustion, you saw him.
seongje, leaning against your school gate. unbothered and detached. his posture was casual, his eyes scanning the crowd of students coming out of school. but the moment your gaze locked onto him, your heart gave a small jolt of relief.
there. him. the one person who, for reasons you still couldn't fully understand, made you feel safe. your body seemed to move on its own, your feet carrying you toward him without a second thought.
and then before you could even process what you were doing, you were already running toward him, arms outstretched, chest tight from the strain of everything you'd been holding inside all day.
the moment you reached him, you didn't stop. you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face against his chest.
you hummed. the noise was quiet, like a soft sigh of contentment, and for the first time all day, your muscles finally relaxed.
his scent, the familiar warmth of him, it was like home. a feeling you hadn't known you were missing until it was there, pressing against you in a way you couldn't explain.
for a split second, everything felt peaceful. you could rest now. let everything melt away. with him, it felt like nothing else mattered.
seongje froze. his first instinct was to step back, to pull away, because this wasn't how things were supposed to be. but when you stayed against him, not saying anything, just holding him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, something inside him twisted.
what the hell?
he couldn't breathe for a second. your arms around him, your face buried against him like you needed him. like he was something more than just some crazy bastard. he didn't know what to do with it.
you were so soft against him. so warm. his heartbeat, which had been steady, quickened as your arms tightened just slightly. and his body, despite the automatic urge to pull away, instinctively responded, his hands hovering at his sides, unsure of where to put them, but not wanting to make you pull away.
his reaction was slow. he was staring down at you, his usual detached expression gone, replaced with a mix of confusion and something closer to... discomfort. he didn't know how to handle it.
finally, after what felt like an eternity, he placed his hand awkwardly on your back, barely enough to return the gesture, but it was something. just a gentle pressure, like he was trying to let you know he wasn't going to push you away. but he wouldn't pull you in either. not fully.
his voice came out rough, not because he was angry, but because he didn't have the words to make sense of what was happening. "you... okay?" he asked, his voice low. it was like he was trying to understand you better. trying, in his strange way, to care.
and when you hummed again, your body still pressed against him like you needed nothing more, he couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him. subtle, but undeniable.
he didn't say anything else, but he did one thing he never thought he would. he let you stay there, his hand still on your back, just enough to show that maybe, just maybe, he didn't mind you being this close.
thoughts had been swirling around your head. people already knew who you were, and the kind of connection you had with geum seongje. you'd been hearing disapproving remarks from people you knew, left and right.
but that wasn't what was bothering you. it was when one of your friends asked, "when did you even start dating geum seongje?"
you didn't know how to answer that. you weren't dating. were you even together? you'd been so focused on how you felt about him, so content with the time you were spending together, that you'd forgotten to ask the most important question.
where do you stand in his life?
so you finally asked, quietly. on a cold night, after one of his disappearances. you looked at him and said, "what are we, seongje?"
he didn't look at you right away. he just lit a cigarette, sat back like you didn't just ask something that's clawing at your ribs.
then, after a long pause, he said, "you don't need a label for something i'd kill over."
still too vague. so you pressed. "so that's it? you can show up and disappear and wreck people and i'm just... what? someone you know?"
now he's irritated. not because you're wrong, but because his feelings itch under his skin worse than blood.
he dragged you close by the wrist, eyes burning, voice low and rough. "you're mine. you're not like the others. you don't walk away from me. and i'll kill anyone who touches you."
it became even clearer in actions. he doesn't flirt with others. he doesn't sleep around. he shows up when you're hurt, when you need help, or even just when the silence gets too heavy. his violence becomes more controlled around you. his chaos pauses for you.
and if you ever try to walk away, not out of fear, but heartbreak, he doesn't beg. but he follows.
he shows up in the dark and says, "you don't get to leave. you're the only thing i don't want to break."
so no, you don't get a title. but you get certainty. the kind that claws into you and never lets go.
you were at seongje's place, curled up in the corner of his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, watching something on your phone. occasionally, you laughed, your brow twitching, your mouth tugging in little ways. you probably didn't know he was watching.
he was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall. a cigarette rested between his fingers, forgotten halfway through.
it should've been just another moment. just another afternoon with you near. that's all it was. but it wasn't.
something cracked. it was quiet. internal. sudden.
he looked at you, really looked, and it hit him like a pipe to the chest. he'd always known you were different.
you didn't scream like the world did, you didn't beg to get closer to him, or flinch when he tore the world apart with his bare hands. you didn't reach to fix what couldn't be fixed.
you just were. and he couldn't fucking breathe.
he'd thought what he felt for you was already obsession. he thought the way he needed you around—the way his days didn't start right unless he saw your face—was already too much.
but this? right now? it was worse.
because you weren't even doing anything. you were just there, in his space like you belonged. and he couldn't stand it.
he didn't blink, didn't move. his heart was beating too fast, too heavy. like it was trying to get out of his chest, like it was trying to claw its way toward you.
you looked up at him, catching the stare.
"what?" you asked, your voice soft, lazy with comfort.
that was the final hit. his cigarette dropped to the floor. he stood and crossed the room in two strides.
you blinked and sat up, shifting to the edge of the bed. confused, then mildly concerned, because he wasn't saying anything. just looking at you like he was on the edge of something ugly.
"what is it?" you asked again.
he dropped to his knees in front of you, hands braced on the mattress like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
"you," he muttered, low, dangerous, barely holding back the quake in his chest. "you don't even fucking know, do you."
you blinked in confusion, "know what?"
"that i'm already gone."
he leaned in close, breath warm against your skin. his hands were clenched on the sheets beside your thighs.
"i didn't think it could get worse," he said, tone ragged. "but it did. just now. just looking at you."
"seongje-"
he didn't let you finish. his voice came out lower. hoarser.
"i'd burn down everything. rip open anyone. just to keep this. you. whatever the fuck this is—"
he pressed his forehead against your knee. his voice dropped, barely a whisper now, like it hurt him to say.
"—it's mine."
your fingers moved before your words did. you reached out, slow and certain, and slipped your hand into his hair, like you knew something inside him was coming apart at the seams, and you needed to keep it from unraveling further.
you didn't flinch. didn't pull away from the sharpness in his voice or the weight behind his words.
instead, you curled your fingers gently against his scalp and said, soft but steady, "you don't have to break things just to prove you want to keep me. i'm not going anywhere."
that did something to him. his breath hitched, quiet, jaw clenched. you didn't treat his madness like something to be pitied or feared. you didn't try to fix it. you didn't flinch from the wreckage. you just understood it was there and touched it anyway.
his arms wrapped around your waist almost without thinking, head still pressed to your knee like it was the only place he could breathe.
then you said it, quietly. not to tease, not to demand. just honest. like it had always been true.
"you are my home."
and that was the thing that shattered him. because he didn't have a home. not really, never did. he was a creature built from chaos and flame and blood. the idea that someone could look at him and find rest?
it wrecked him in a way no fist ever could. his grip tightened. not out of fear of you leaving. but because you just gave him something he didn't know he'd been starving for all his life. and now that he had it, he'd kill the whole world before he let it go.
he didn't know what to say yet. so when you gently pulled him toward the bed, he didn't resist. he didn't say something cocky or crass like he usually would. he just let you.
you lay down first, guiding him beside you. he collapsed next to you like a man thrown off balance. arms still around your waist, his head buried against the curve of your neck. as if he could crawl inside your skin just to get closer.
your fingers ran through his hair, slow, rhythmic, soothing. the storm inside him didn't vanish, but it quieted. simmered.
your voice cut through the quiet, soft and careful. "do you love me?"
he froze. he didn't pull away, but he did stop breathing for a second. his gaze locked on yours, heavy and unreadable. then he took a slow breath, jaw tightening.
love? what the hell was that supposed to feel like? that was too unfamiliar. too soft.
he didn't know. he'd never had it. not from anyone. not for anyone. all he'd ever known was survival, pleasure, and pain. wanting things so badly he broke them just to feel something. hurting because it was the only way to know he was alive.
but this? this thing in his chest, this raw, aching, burning thing that only grew worse the longer you touched him, it was something else.
so he didn't lie. he didn't pretend. he spoke against your skin, voice hoarse and quiet.
"i don't know what love is. but i know i can't fucking stand the thought of you not being here."
another breath. he pulled you closer.
"you're the only thing that makes me feel calm and insane at the same time. you—" he exhaled, shaky now, like it hurt to say, "—you make me feel too much. and i can't stop it."
his fingers dug into the back of your shirt. possessive. desperate.
"i don't know if it's love, but i know this—you're mine. you've been mine since the moment i saw you. doesn't matter if you run, or scream, or try to tear me out of your chest. you're still mine."
"you're the air that i breathe," he said, voice dropping to a whisper, like a confession no one else was meant to hear. "and i'd tear the world apart to keep you. no hesitation. no mercy."
"when i look at you, it hurts." he said. "but i want that hurt. over and over again. you're the only thing i'd bleed for without thinking twice."
he let the silence stretch, like he wanted the weight of his words to press against you. crush you, mark you, bind you to him in the only way he knew how.
it was not a confession, but a surrender.
your chest tightened. your eyes stung. and you hated that they did, because you weren't sad. you weren't broken.
you were just... full. full of him. of this.
a shaky breath escaped you as you cupped his face, your thumb brushing just beneath his eye, like you needed to touch something solid to believe any of this was real.
you smiled. small, trembling, but true.
"whatever it is you feel for me, let it consume you." your voice was steady, despite the trembling in your chest. "break for me. burn only for me. want no one else—because i don't want anyone but you."
he stared at you like you'd just taken the air out of his lungs.
"i don't care if it's wrong, or selfish, or if the world thinks i've lost my mind." your hand slid back into his hair gently. "you're mine, geum seongje. just as much as i'm yours."
his hands were already on your waist, but they tightened at those words, like something inside him finally snapped.
and he kissed you. it wasn't soft. it wasn't careful. it was desperate, like he needed to feel everything at once, like if he didn't press every inch of you into him, he might fall apart.
you kissed him back just as hard, just as aching, fingers curling in his hair like you could anchor the both of you with the weight of your want.
and in that moment, nothing else mattered.
not the danger in his eyes. not the chaos in his soul. not the way the world would look at you.
because you knew him. and you would choose him—still. every time.
for you, he would bleed himself dry a thousand times—willingly, completely, because he didn't know how not to.
summary: a glimpse into what loving geum seongje looks like—messy, soft, deeply yours. and after all these years, he still has all of your heart.
pairing: geum seongje x fem!reader
genre: romance, slice of life
word count: 5.1k
first.
you and seongje had been together for a while now. you'd somehow made it through that rocky stretch hand in hand, and now here you were, college students at different schools, in completely different rhythms of life, but still orbiting each other.
at first, everyone had an opinion. they had plenty to say when you started openly seeing ganghak's tyrant. but after a few months, the noise died down. there was simply nothing left to say. you weren't going anywhere, and neither was he.
your parents had been the hardest. not surprised, really. they weren't strict about dating, never hovered too close. but the night they saw him for the first time, walking you home, eyes dark, cheek split, knuckles raw, it was written all over their faces. alarm. disappointment. a hundred questions they didn't want the answers to.
he looked like every bad decision a parent warned their daughter about.
still, they didn't try to tear it apart. maybe because you've never given them a reason not to trust you. you were a good daughter. they hated the idea of him, hated the way he looked at you like the world owed him blood, but they didn't interfere. not yet. not unless they had to. you could feel it hanging in the air though. one day, they'd say they wanted to meet him officially. and when that day came... well. you'd deal with it.
college life came with its quiet perks. one of them being the blessed indifference of your peers. no whispers. no curious stares. no one cornering you to ask what you saw in "that guy". people mostly kept to themselves, and for the most part, you liked it that way. you were finally able to like him without feeling like you owed the world an explanation for it.
which is why it threw you completely off when he showed up. out of nowhere. again.
you had told him you were going out with your friends, just a casual hangout after class. you hadn't bothered to mention where, because you didn't think you needed to. it wasn't like you were hiding anything. but it turned out you didn't even need to tell him. somehow, seongje always found you. like he had a sixth sense for when you were around other guys. or a tracker. you still weren't sure which one it was.
and this time, he didn't just lurk from afar like he sometimes did. he walked straight into the middle of your day and picked a fight. literally.
he didn't like the look of the guys in your group. or maybe it was just the fact that there were guys. you could tell he had already made up a story in his head about who they were and why they were there, and that was enough for him to square up like it was high school all over again. you tried, really tried to pull him aside, to talk him down, to tell him that he was blowing things out of proportion, but he didn't even look at you. like your voice didn't matter once his temper had already started rolling downhill.
and to make things worse, it turned out the guys in your group did have some kind of history with the union. not deep, but enough to make seongje grin like he'd just been handed an excuse on a silver platter.
the tension cracked. words were exchanged. chairs were scraped back. and you stood there, stuck, watching the day spiral while your friends looked at you with wide eyes and quiet apologies.
one of the girls leaned over to whisper, "sorry... the guys shouldn't have egged him on."
but all you could do was shake your head, eyes still fixed on seongje like you were trying to make sense of how quickly things had unraveled.
"no," you muttered, jaw tight. "i should be the one apologizing."
because he came uninvited. he started it.
and it wasn't just the fight, it was the way he completely brushed off your voice when you told him to stop. like your presence wasn't enough to make him pause. like your boundaries came second to whatever score he thought he had to settle. you knew how seongje was, violent, impulsive, always bristling with the urge to break something, but he wasn't supposed to treat you like noise in the background.
he didn't need to protect you from anything today. he just needed to respect you. and right now, he didn't.
the doorbell had been ringing for ten minutes straight.
you'd muted your phone after the fifth message. then came the calls. then knocking. then the doorbell again, rhythmic like he was playing a game. you didn't have to check to know who it was. no one else was that annoyingly persistent. eventually, your patience snapped, and you stormed to the door just to shut him up.
he barely looked relieved when you opened it, like he expected you to slam it in his face instead. his phone was still clutched in one hand, unread messages stacked like unfinished apologies. his hair was a mess, his jacket crooked, but his eyes were locked onto yours.
"...can i come in?"
you didn't answer. just stepped aside.
you didn't say anything as you walked back in either. didn't acknowledge the way he followed you like a puppy that didn't know where to sit. his mouth opened, maybe to try something stupid, but when you shot him a look over your shoulder, he shut up for once.
he settled on the couch. quietly. which was almost suspicious.
you turned, intending to retreat to your room, but the second you passed him, he hooked a lazy finger into your belt loop. the tug was gentle, but it halted your escape. you huffed, glaring down at him, but he didn't even look fazed. he just pulled you in.
you didn't resist, though you did sigh in disbelief as he shifted you onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. his arms wrapped loosely around you waist, then his forehead came to rest against your shoulder.
no smirk. no cocky remark. just stillness. he stayed quiet, but it wasn't peace.
it was tension. his arms were around you, but his jaw was clenched. you could feel it, he was holding back, like if he spoke, the wrong words would come out. again.
you sighed and stared straight ahead. "we already talked about this."
his fingers tightened a fraction around your waist. "...i know."
your throat tightened. "i already told you not to pull that shit again, seongje."
"...i know."
you pulled back, just enough to look at him, and he didn't meet your eyes. that alone annoyed you more than the words. it was like he was agreeing just to make it stop. like this whole thing wasn't serious, like he hadn't embarrassed you in front of your new friends, ignored you when you told him to stop, acted like you didn't matter in the middle of it all.
"if you're gonna talk like that," you said, voice sharpening like a blade, "then don't talk to me at all. and don't bother showing up if you're just gonna ignore everything i say."
that landed.
you felt it immediately, the way his arms stiffened around you, the sudden cold edge that cut through his expression. his head lifted slightly, and when he looked at you, his eyes had lost that sheepish desperation.
not angry at you, not quite, but he was frustrated. at the situation. at himself. at the fact that this wasn't going his way. seongje never liked not getting what he wanted. and right now, what he wanted was you to forgive him without making him feel small.
but he wasn't stupid. he knew what would happen if he pushed you again.
you'd gone silent on him before. days of unread messages, no answers, no sightings. it drove him halfway mad.
he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't let that happen again.
"...fine." his tone came sharp, his voice clipped. "i won't do it again."
you narrowed your eyes. that tone—like he was doing you a favor.
you stood up.
he grabbed your wrist before you could walk away, firm but not forceful. he didn't pull, just held.
then, in a voice that barely registered above a breath, he said, "i'm sorry."
you froze. he didn't look at you when he said it. his head was lowered again, gaze locked somewhere near the floor. his grip loosened slightly, as if expecting you to pull away. as if he'd already braced for the worst.
you didn't say anything.
you were still pissed. but still... there was something about the way he said it.
he did not apologize. not to anyone. he didn't believe in it. thought it was dumb. weak. but ever since he met you, he'd been doing a lot of things he never thought he would. giving in. holding back. trying.
and right now, it was written all over him, the struggle, the resentment, the need.
you didn't melt, not entirely, but something in you softened. just a little. because you knew what it took for him to say that word. and how much it killed him to be the one begging to be forgiven.
you stayed still. not because you didn't hear it, but because you did. because it sounded so unlike him that you needed a second just to let it settle in.
then with a quiet motion, his hand slid gently around your wrist, then your waist, coaxing you toward him until you were standing between his knees. he wrapped his arms around your hips, slow and steady, and leaned his head against your stomach.
not a word. just his arms, warm and solid. his forehead pressing into your shirt like he was waiting. not demanding, not begging. just waiting for you to forgive him.
you let out a long sigh, loud enough for him to hear. you weren't ready to let him off easy, not when you had every right to be upset, but you also weren't cruel.
your hand moved slowly to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, rubbing at his scalp in small, deliberate strokes. that was all he needed.
seongje exhaled deeply, almost in relief, and pulled you into his lap again without a second's hesitation.
his forehead met yours, eyes locked on you with something softer than guilt. apology. maybe even gratitude. you could feel it, the way he was turning soft for you, even if he didn't know how to hold it. his rage never vanished, it just curled its way into something quieter.
your hands came up to cradle his face, fingers pressing gently into his cheeks. "i'm serious." you said, tilting his face toward yours so he couldn't look away. "you don't get to pretend like nothing happened. you have to actually try."
he didn't answer. didn't agree, didn't joke. just leaned in closer, and closer, waiting.
you didn't make him wait long.
the kiss wasn't rushed or hungry, it wasn't sharp like most of what existed between you. it was slow and careful. his mouth brushed yours like he still thought you might pull away. you didn't.
he sighed into your lips like he needed the kiss to steady him. and maybe he did.
when you finally pulled away, the kiss still warm on your lips, you let out a breath. not with frustration this time, but something gentler. something that settled deep in your chest.
you stared at him, eyes tracing every detail like you were trying to memorize him all over again. the dark lashes that curled a little too perfectly, the stubborn cut near his cheekbone, the beauty mark under his eye.
"you've got such a pretty face," you murmured, brushing a thumb across his cheek. "makes it easier to forgive you."
that was all it took. seongje flushed so fast it was almost impressive. his whole face went red, the color kept crawling down his neck and all the way to his ears.
"fuck off," he blurted and shoved you off his lap.
you stumbled backward with a yelp. but he was just as quick to shoot his hand out, fingers curling tight around your wrist to yank you right back in.
"fucking—stay still," he muttered, flustered beyond repair. he crushed you against his chest like a feral cat with its prey. his heart thudding hard against your ear, giving away everything he wouldn't say out loud.
you wriggled a little in protest, not really trying to escape. "you are so infuriating," you muttered, breathing out a laugh despite yourself. "you're lucky i love you."
you felt him stiffened. he didn't respond right away. just slumped forward, pressing his forehead against your shoulder like he couldn't take it. like those words short-circuited something inside him.
every single time you said it, he folded like a paper.
his breath faltered against your skin before he bit you. sharp and sudden, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. you jerked against him in surprise, only to feel the swipe of his tongue over the spot like an apology.
"fuck," he rasped, voice rough. "stop saying shit like that."
"like what?" you asked, breath catching. you were still reeling from the bite.
he scoffed, but it was weak. almost like he choked on it. "you know what it does to me."
"so you want me to stop?" you tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet your eyes. "really?"
he didn't answer, didn't have to. because the look on his face said everything. the ache in his eyes, the way his mouth pressed into a tight line, the way his hands were still gripping your shirt like he was terrified you'd slip away if he let go.
"we're getting sidetracked. you can't just bite me and hope i'll forget."
he scowled. "worked last time."
"it didn't," you lied.
he narrowed his eyes. "then why aren't you yelling anymore?"
you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "you are the worst."
eventually, he leaned in again. pressed his forehead to yours like he didn't know how else to be close. like saying sorry with words still felt foreign, but this, this closeness, he could do. you smiled.
"you're so adorable sometimes."
"shut up," he hissed through clenched teeth, burying his face into your neck to hide what little pride he had left. his arms coiled tighter around your waist, every inch of his body pressed close like you were the only thing anchoring him to the moment.
god, he belonged to you in ways even he didn't understand.
you ran your fingers through his hair, rubbing slow circles until his breathing evened out. he melted further, practically boneless in your arms. it would've been funny if it weren't so stupidly endearing.
it was that time of the month again. and like clockwork, seongje was at your beck and call.
it was funny, really, how he responded to your cramps like it was a code red emergency every time. he didn't hover exactly, but he was always there. like a shadow. like a guard dog. like someone who had once made a silent promise to never let you suffer alone, even if the enemy was just your own hormones.
it was during the early months of your relationship, back when everything still felt too new. seongje had texted you one saturday morning, casually demanding your presence like he always did. as usual, he expected you to say yes.
instead, you replied with, 'not in the mood'.
it was short, not your usual way of responding to him. well, unless you were upset.
his call came seconds later.
"what the hell do you mean, not in the mood?" his tone sharp, offended, as if the very idea of you turning him down was a personal attack.
you didn't even flinch. just lay there in bed, clutching your stomach. "i'm on my period. i have bad cramps," you answered, voice flat, tired, unbothered.
then there was silence. total silence.
you pulled the phone away from your ear to check if the call had ended.
"hello? still there?"
"...yeah." his voice was lower now. unsure. "i'm here." he paused. "is there... anything i can do?"
you would've laughed, only if you weren't doubled over from pain. it was obvious he didn't know how to react, probably regretting all his impulsive dramatics from three minutes ago. his brain spiraling now that you dropped a truth too real and too biological for someone like him to handle without mentally imploding.
"no, you don't have to do anything. i'll see you next week once i stop dying."
you had imagined him on the other end, slack-jawed and helpless. no cocky comebacks. no pushback. just stunned silence as he tried to process that there were some things he couldn't fix by throwing fists.
but it turns out he had a way of surprising you.
later that same day, he'd shown up at your doorstep. no warning, no messages. just him, standing there with a plastic bag in one hand, a pint of your favorite ice cream in the other, and the most unconvincing attempt at indifference painted across his face.
you blinked at him, confused. "what are you doing here?"
"well," he muttered, eyes darting away. "didn't say i couldn't show up."
his tone was clipped, almost sulky, but you could see the way his eyes flickered nervously, scanning your face like he was bracing himself for rejection. he stood there stiffly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. ready to bolt if you said the word. instead, you let him in.
you spent the afternoon on the couch. he kept his distance, which was weird, suspiciously well-behaved. seongje didn't like giving you space. physical contact had been his default setting ever since he stopped feeling awkward about it. but that day, he was stiff as a board, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the tv like he was forcing himself to focus on the movie.
you didn't comment. just accepted the ice cream and slowly ate it beside him in silence.
and after a while, once the worst of the cramps dulled, you quietly shifted closer and tucked yourself against his side.
"thanks," you murmured, lips brushing the sleeve of his shirt.
he didn't say anything. just exhaled, and finally let his arm wrap around you. not possessively, not urgently, just enough to keep you close, careful not to press where it hurt.
it was the first time he took care of you like that. the first time he showed that he could. it became a routine ever since.
and now, he was still at it.
seongje was sprawled on the floor in front of you, leaning against the coffee table with a bag of heating pads and snacks. he reached up to hand you a warm bottle wordlessly, brows furrowed like he was the one in pain.
"you look like a kicked dog," you mumbled from your cocoon of blankets.
"i feel like one," he grumbled. "you act like you're dying and i'm just supposed to watch?"
"i am dying."
he rolled his eyes but didn't argue. instead, he sat back and stared at the tv, clearly bored. his leg bounced. his fingers drummed.
"wanna fight?"
you didn't even look at him. "no."
"not even verbally? i could call you something mean."
"you could leave."
"or i could stay and be annoying."
"you already are."
he smirked because you were talking. which meant you weren't mad at him for hovering. slowly, he crawled onto the couch, ignoring your half-hearted attempts to push him off. when he finally wedged himself beside you and laid his head in your lap, you sighed.
"i didn't forget your favorite dessert this time."
"that's called being decent."
"it's called caring, brat."
you snorted. "say that again. i dare you."
he sat up halfway, looking like he might say something bold, but thought better of it and flopped back down.
"don't die. i'll get bored." he muffled.
you laughed quietly. when you leaned down to press a kiss to his temple, his eye twitched, like his brain malfunctioned.
"what now?" he asked suspiciously.
"nothing," you said, lips curving into a soft smile. "i just really like you."
he grunted, annoyed. but the red tint in his ears said everything else.
you both weren't doing anything particularly special. just walking. trees lining the path had turned shades of amber, rust, and gold. seongje walked beside you, hands in his coat pockets, shoulders loose, completely at ease.
it was nice. quiet. comfortable.
and maybe that was why it hit you.
you blinked up at the sky, pale and moody in that late-autumn kind of way, and suddenly felt it settle in your chest—that ache. the one that always came with change.
"we're graduating soon," you murmured without meaning to.
he glanced at you, squinting against the sun. "yeah?"
you hummed. there was no need to elaborate, but your brain wouldn't stop there.
soon you'd walk across that stage. soon you'd be holding a degree in your hands. and what then?
what would you be without exams, without early morning classes, without the label of student tied neatly to your identity like a tag?
what would you do?
what would you be?
would everything change?
you didn't mean to spiral, but—
your eyes flicked toward seongje again. he was half a step ahead now, kicking at a stray pinecone. wind caught the ends of his hair, curling them against his cheek. his profile was all sharp lines and shadows, beautiful in the way he always was, aggressively so.
and just like that, it steadied you.
there was a time you thought you wouldn't make it past the first year. too different. too messy. too much history clinging to his name, and too much doubt hanging in the air.
but now, years later, here he was. still beside you. still loud and reckless and impulsive, but softer. only for you. not always, not overtly, but in the little ways that mattered.
he was still him. but somehow, better.
you didn't notice when your steps slowed. he did.
"you good?" he asked, brow quirking.
"yeah," your voice cracked on the word, embarrassingly emotional. you cleared your throat. "just thinking."
"that's dangerous," you let out a breathless laugh.
"do you ever think about how far we've come?"
he stared at you like you just asked him to solve a math equation. "from where?"
"from where we started."
he rolled his eyes. "you hated me when we met."
"you deserved it."
"no arguments there."
you smiled. "but still. you're here."
something passed over his face then, brief, unreadable. but then he was looking away, jaw shifting like he didn't know what to do with the way your words made his chest feel tight.
you reached out and took his hand.
"thank you," you said.
"for what?"
"for everything."
"you're acting like i'm gonna die tomorrow."
you huffed. "you're impossible."
"and you're sappy."
"only when it comes to you."
he made a face, looked away quickly. you caught the tips of his ears turning pink.
maybe it was the way the sunlight filtered through the orange leaves. or maybe it was just the clarity of a moment where nothing else seemed to matter. but you felt it again.
the weight in your chest. but this time, it wasn't fear. it was peace.
with him, the world felt a little less terrifying. a little more manageable. like no matter what the future threw at you, how uncertain, how intimidating, how vast, he'd still be beside you. loud and annoying and occasionally stupid, but there.
yours.
you linked your arm with his, casual like it meant nothing. then you leaned your head against his shoulder. he didn't say anything. just bumped you gently with his arm.
you two kept walking.
but that was everything you could have asked for.
you were making something simple for the two of you, moving around the kitchen with that quiet ease he'd grown used to. the soft clinks and rustles of your movements, it filled the room like background noise he never wanted to lose.
it was the way your presence still settled into his space like it was meant to be there. even after all these years, it still caught him off guard sometimes. how much of his life had quietly shaped itself around you.
he'd never tell you this, wouldn't even admit it if you pried it out of his skull. but somewhere between the convenience store runs and moments he found you sleeping on his shoulder, something in him had slowed down.
he knew then. fuck, he knew. that this was it for him. that there was no one else, and there wouldn't ever be.
and if he wanted to keep you, if he wanted to deserve that kind of peace, then he couldn't keep living like none of it mattered. something had to give.
not because you asked him to. you didn't, even when he was at his worst. you never looked at him with disappointment, never threw his mess in his face like you could've. you saw him. took him as he was, back when he was still half-feral and too wild to sit still for anything except your voice. that was the thing. you loved him without conditions. and that's what made it worse.
because no one ever asked him to be better. and now he wanted to be. just for you.
so he started small. stopped smoking around you the second he realized you didn't like the smell. you never said anything, but then he noticed the way your nose crinkled slightly when he leaned in too close. you still held his face, kissed him like nothing was wrong. but that was enough. he wanted you to want to be close.
he stopped picking fights for the thrill of it. started actually thinking ahead. he still cracked jaws if someone touched you or looked at you the wrong way, but he wasn't out for blood just to feel alive anymore. not when he had you. not when you made him feel alive more than anything else.
he had something better, something real.
he didn't say anything at first. just watched you from the couch, arms draped across the backrest, hair messy, shirt still wrinkled from sleep.
you were just making breakfast like you sometimes did when you stayed over.
but goddamn, he could barely breathe just watching you move.
there were some moments, fleeting and unpredictable, when the weight of how much he loved you knocked the air straight out of his lungs. when his body didn't know what to do with the feeling, and his heart felt too small to hold it all.
this was one of those moments.
he got up without thinking.
you didn't notice him watching. you were too focused, hands moving with quiet intent, your eyes fixed, lips set in that soft line you always wore when you were busy doing something.
he hovered nearby, restless, pacing, almost like he didn't know where to put himself. until finally, he reached for you, curling his fingers gently around your wrist.
you looked up, and there it was again.
the second your eyes met his, the entire world silenced. your lips parted, breath hitching, because that look in his eyes, it always made you want to cry.
he was looking at you like you were the whole damn world.
and you were.
"something up?" you asked in a quiet voice.
he didn't answer. instead, he gently took your hand, fingers a little clumsy, a little too tight, and interlaced them with his own, like it was the only way he could keep the feelings from spilling out of his chest.
and then, with a quiet breath, he brought your joined hands to his lips.
he kissed your ring finger.
slowly. tenderly. reverently.
not like someone touching skin. but like someone touching a vow.
your breath caught.
he held your gaze. "i don't want anything that doesn't have you in it."
his voice was low. rough. not quite steady. his eyes flickered, not with fear, but something close to desperation. like the feeling was too big, too much, and he didn't know how to bleed it out except through touch.
and you understood.
it was all there. in the way his fingers clung to yours, in the way his lips trembled slightly as they brushed your skin, in the way he looked like he'd shatter if you even thought of letting go.
his face became blurry, but you blinked it away.
you just smiled softly and pressed your forehead against his. "good," you whispered. "you're the only one i want to do this life with."
he exhaled, slow and uneven, like your words reached somewhere deep in him that he didn't let anyone else near.
being with him was never easy. there were days he'd withdraw into himself, frustrated with things he couldn't name. times when you wouldn't understand why he shut down, or lashed out, or made things harder than they had to be.
there were arguments, silence, sometimes it hurt, and it took time to come back from that.
but love like yours and his was never meant to be easy.
it was raw. unforgiving in its honesty. and undeniably real.
you never regretted a second of it. not even the ugliest parts.
and maybe—
maybe he didn't have a ring now. maybe it was still hidden in a drawer, still waiting for the perfect moment.
maybe he'd already gone to your parents, awkward and twitchy and sweating like a fucking idiot, asking for your hand even though the very idea of "asking permission" made his skin itch.
maybe it was the first time in his entire life he had ever felt that afraid.
maybe they'd said yes.
they'd seen it, eventually. what you saw. what he'd become for you. what he would always be.
and maybe, just maybe, he was going to give you that ring on your graduation. when the future is right in front of you, when you'd already proven to the world and each other that you could survive it.
but for now, this was enough.
your forever didn't need a clock.
because he knew that he'd keep loving you like it was still the beginning. like every day was the first time you made his chest hurt just by looking at him.
even when life got dull. even when things slowed down. you'd still have all of him.
Aging sucks when you're a pretty woman. As soon as you hit age thirty every clown within a hundred mile radius tries to bring down your self-esteem. Our protagonist here is painfully normal. She's trapped in a 13 year relationship that soured years ago, and she's never used her looks to get her way. She was "plucked" before she figured out how to live for herself. The yandere here is surprisingly helpful, but don't get it twisted. He doesn't have innocent intentions.
Na Hae-soo started dating her husband at the age of 20. It was a shining romance. She never had to deal with the pressure of the marriage market. She got picked right away, and her future husband treated her well.
Now she's 33 and he treats her like expired milk. Na Hae-soo's character design is extremely well-done. You feel like a pervert for looking at her, even though she's always dressed extremely plainly.
She's in debt.
Her beloved husband, Mincheol, took out money UNDER HER NAME.
Then, he divorced her.
Yes, they still live together.
Mincheol was jobless for a long time. He's been living off of her, promising to remarry her when shit gets better for him financially.
When the story begins he finally has it. An office job. A suit. Long smoke breaks with his managers. He ruined his wife, just so he could secure his own career. Na Hae-soo lives like a nun. She does all the cooking. All the chores. All of the real work and overtime. She pays off his debt on her own, because it's in her name and he has the audacity to act like it's hers. Na Hae-soo has been emotionally and mentally abused for about a decade, and she has no support system.
She's a dying flower.
Mincheol is going to use her until she crumbles.
The worst part is we see what she could be. Her multiple bosses all respect her. She has female acquaintances. She just has no time to hang out with anyone, so she has no close friends. Everyone always calls her beautiful. Her acquaintances encourage her to date before they learn she has a "husband". They say her age doesn't matter, because she's extremely blessed in looks.
Na Hae-soo can't see it. She's over thirty and she's in debt. Mincheol never lets her forget it.
She works at a florist, a BBQ joint, and a convenience store. Plus she takes extra shifts at other places, hoping for remarriage and a renewed relationship with the only man she knows romantically. She literally doesn't know how to move on.
She doesn't notice Mr. Rose for months.
Her coworker has to point him out.
Mr. Rose buys ten roses every single day. He's been doing it for MONTHS, and he looks like a model. Na Hae-soo thinks he's about a decade younger than her, so she dismisses him.
Her coworker realizes the truth right away. Mr. Rose is coming to see her.
She doesn't believe it.
However, it's impossible to deny. His boldness breaks down years of self-hate and insults. He refuses to talk to anyone else. He walks around the store until he finds her, and he asks her to make his bouquet. It seems...strange. It's such an obvious way to flirt. Na Hae-soo still thinks of Mincheol as her husband, so she starts thinking about rejecting Mr. Rose.
It's understandable.
If she leaves Mincheol the next man will surely be even worse.
Right?
There is another victim in this story. Her name is Ari. She works with Mincheol. She falls in love with him, and she doesn't know. Mincheol hides his ugly apartment. He PRETENDS TO BE SINGLE AT WORK. He did divorce Na Hae-soo, but they still live together. She still takes care of him. He literally treats her like a maid. He's bored of Na Hae-soo because she doesn't act cute anymore.
Ari is scared of bugs and she loves it when Mincheol protects her. She's twenty five. She's popular.
He sleeps with her.
She wants to marry him, completely unaware of the fact that he's capable of draining her dry for his own gain.
I do think she won't be a villain, and Na Hae-soo will feel obligated to warn her. After she leaves with Mr. Rose of course.
Mr. Rose lies. He pretends to be a lower middle class man who lives in the neighborhood. He says he loves flowers and he wants to start as friends with her. In reality he seems to be an extremely wealthy gangster. He starts beating up men who hit on Na Hae-soo without her knowledge. He knows her shedule. He starts showing up at all three of her workplaces after they become "friends"
Na Hae-soo becomes less lonely thanks to him.
Tae-ha gets her with TEXT MESSAGES. It's so normal and cute it hurts. It's what she needs. It's what she wants. It doesn't matter if she has to work hard. She just wanted Mincheol to check on her. To be reasonable and care about her while she works hard.
Tae-ha figured out that money wouldn't work right away. Being friends first suits him just fine. He wants Na Hae-soo to like him, genuinely. He's just a scary guy at work. When it comes to love he's affectionate, and also violent, oh and he knows about the cheating and Na Hae-soo finds out because of his meddling.
What a caring guy!
It becomes more....unavoidable. He starts walking her home. Mincheol basically never comes home at this point. He's always on dates with Ari. He constantly complains about their old and dirty apartment. He's not happy. She's not happy.
I’m not even gonna try to sugarcoat it, I wanna fuck this man so bad
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“Some people are born with tornados in their lives, but constellations in their eyes. Other people are born with stars at their feet, but their souls are lost at sea.”