istanstraykidss

[istanstraykidss]

Hurt | Geum Seong Je X Reader

Pairings: Geum Seong Je X Reader

Notes: back on that bullshit again 🫡

Warnings: none really. Just angst.

Summary: He pulls up to your dorm after his fight with Si eun. You're not pleased to put it mildly..

When the knock comes, it’s too soft, too hesitant. Her heart skips for reasons she doesn’t understand until she opens the door.

Geum Seung Jae. Bloody lip. Split cheek. Limping.

“We're not doing this again.” she breathes, voice shaking.

“Please.” he says. Just that. No excuses. No apologies. Just a whispered plea that he hopes won't fall on deaf ears.

She wants to slam the door in his face. Scream. Shake him. He has no right to show up like this, when he refuses to leave the Union.

But instead, she turns wordlessly and storms back into the dorm room.

“Go sit,” she snaps over her shoulder.

He obeys instantly.

There are only two people who can command Geum Seung Jae: Na Baek Jin and her.

She returns with the med kit, tossing it onto the table like she’s angry at it too. Her hands move with precision as she rips open a packet of antiseptic wipes. She doesn't look at him as she kneels between his legs, gently taking his chin in her hand.

She dabs at the gash on his cheekbone. He flinches.

"Noona..”

“Don't talk.”

His jaw locks. He obeys again.

She’s close enough for him to smell the faint citrus of her shampoo. Her brows are furrowed, lips tight in frustration as she works. Her hands are gentle, even if her heart isn’t right now.

And Seung Jae just looks at her. Eyes dark, unreadable. There's blood on his face, but all he sees is how she looks when she’s trying not to fall apart.

He thinks this might be what safety feels like.

Even if it comes wrapped in fury.

“You have some fucking nerve showing up to my dorm like this,” she mutters, barely able to keep her voice steady, “when you refuse to leave the Union.”

Seung Jae doesn’t flinch at her words. Just shrugs, the way he always does when things hit too close to home. “Didn’t come here to get scolded.”

Of course. That’s his response. Like a child crossing his arms to hide a bleeding hand.

She goes still. Completely silent.

That’s when he knows. He fucked up again.

“Ah, fuck…” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I..”

“Fine,” she cuts him off coldly. “Go to a hospital next time."

It lands like a slap. A clean hit straight to the chest.

She stands up, movements stiff, and grabs the first aid kit. She doesn’t look at him as she walks toward the bathroom.

The door doesn’t slam. She’s not that kind of angry.

She’s the tired kind. The hurt kind.

And that kind leaves scars deeper than the ones on his face.

The moment the bathroom door closes behind her, the silence eats him alive.

He stares at the floor. The blood on his knuckles. The smudge of iodine on the coffee table. The space she just left behind, still warm from her body.

He’s taken hits that hurt less.

Seung Jae exhales, low and bitter, jaw clenching hard enough it aches. He doesn’t move from the couch. Doesn’t trust himself to.

Because he knows exactly what he is: bruised fists, pride stitched together with rage, and a lifetime of not knowing how to be soft where it matters. He can't keep doing this to you, he's aware of that, but try as he might he always finds himself in your living room after a fight.

And her? She’s the only person who’s ever looked at him like he’s worth saving.

Which is exactly why he keeps ruining it.

He runs both hands over his face and lets them fall, elbows on his knees. The antiseptic stings more now than it did earlier, like his body finally caught up to the pain he’s been dragging around all night.

He should leave. She probably wants him to.

But he doesn’t move.

He can’t.

Because as much as he wants to protect her from all the blood and violence he keeps dragging home, he also knows he doesn’t want to survive any of it without her.

So he waits.

Like a dog outside the door, hoping maybe—just maybe—she’ll come back out and look at him like that again.

Even if she hates him a little while she does it.

She doesn't slam things when she's mad. That would be easy, loud, obvious. No, she just goes quiet. Too quiet.

In the bathroom, he hears nothing but the slow, deliberate sound of her breathing.

One. Two. Three.

When the door opens, he straightens instinctively, but she doesn’t even glance at him. Just walks past, calm like glass.

She disappears into her bedroom. He hears her desk chair creak, then the soft hum of her laptop powering on. The steady rhythm of typing.

He hates that sound tonight.

He gets up. His limp is worse now, but he forces himself forward. Down the short hall, into the doorway of her room.

“Noona,” he says, voice low, rough, “I didn’t come here to look at your furniture.”

She doesn’t turn around.

“Why’d you come, then?”

He shrugs. Of course he doesn’t say it.

Because you’re the only place that feels safe.

Because you never make me explain the bruises, just patch them up like they matter.

Because your hands are the only ones he can tolerate kindness from. The only ones he finds himself craving.

But saying that—saying any of it—would make it real. Would make it dangerous.

So he just stands there, bleeding and silent.

And she knows.

After a pause, she says flatly, “I’ve got work to do.”

His pride nearly keeps his mouth shut. But something in him cracks, just enough.

“It hurts less when you do it,” he mutters. Then, quieter: “There. Happy?”

She stops typing.

Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe for a second too long.

And maybe that’s the beginning of something honest.

She sighs. The kind that deflates everything inside her chest.

Her hands come up to rub over her face, slow and tired. Not annoyed. Just worn thin.

Then she turns to look at him.

And the anger’s still there, yeah, but dulled now. Like ash instead of flame. Underneath it, something softer flickers in her eyes. Worry, maybe. Maybe even heartbreak.

“What am I supposed to do with you, hm?” she asks.

Her voice isn’t sharp anymore. It’s weary, edged with something dangerously close to affection.

And that makes it worse.

He looks at her. Really looks. At the curve of her shoulder, the way she’s curled one leg under herself in the chair, the slight crease between her brows she only gets when she’s trying not to care too much.

His throat feels tight. He swallows it down.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, because what else is there?

She studies him for a moment longer, and he feels naked under her gaze. Not because she sees his wounds, but because she sees past them.

She always does.

"I hate that you make me care like this."

This time he notices it, the hint of sadness, of worry in her voice, and it causes something to squeeze at his heart.

She’s not just angry. She’s scared.

Scared she’s going to lose him.

And he realizes, too late like always, that every time he shows up at her door bleeding, he’s not just hurting himself, but that he's hurting her too.

His throat goes tight. He wants to say something. Anything. But he’s never been good with words that mean too much.

So he does what he always does. He looks at her like it’s an apology, like if he stares hard enough, she’ll understand all the things he can’t say.

And maybe, just maybe, she does.

Because she doesn’t look away.

[istanstraykidss]

Could you please do a scenario where the reader and seongje would have a child

Title: “Small Hands, Big Heart”

He never planned on having a family. Never thought he deserved one. But then you smiled at him, and a year later, your daughter held his pinky in her tiny fist and made him believe in softness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone had an opinion.

“You’re really gonna raise a kid with him?” “Y/N, he gets into fights for fun.” “People don’t change just because they knock someone up.”

But what they didn’t know—what they’d never understand—is that Seong-je had changed long before the pregnancy test turned positive. He changed the moment you smiled at him like he wasn’t broken. Like his fists weren’t the only part of him that had ever mattered.

You—soft-spoken, gentle, all sunshine and warm hands—were the one person who never flinched when he came near.

And he fell. Hard.

So by the time you said, “I’m pregnant,” hands trembling, eyes wide, scared out of your mind— He didn’t run.

He knelt.

Right in front of you, hands on your hips, forehead pressed to your belly.

“You’re serious?” he asked, voice cracked.

You nodded. “I’m scared, Seong-je.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Not if it’s with you.”

You were soft through the whole pregnancy—sleepy, gentle, humming while folding tiny onesies and resting your head on his chest every night.

Seong-je was not.

He was terrifying.

He growled at anyone who got too close to your belly. Physically shoved men out of your way on crowded sidewalks. Glared down nurses and even the poor, sweet OBGYN who tried to tell you, “You might experience some pain during labor.”

“She’s not in pain,” he snapped.

“She’s going to give birth,” the doctor blinked.

“I’ll take the pain instead,” Seong-je said darkly. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

You laughed softly, rubbing his shoulder. “Baby, that’s not how biology works.”

He didn’t care.

He wanted to protect you—even from nature.

The day your daughter was born, Seong-je was quieter than you’d ever seen him.

Not angry. Not panicked.

Just quiet.

His jaw tight. Hands shaking. Sitting beside your hospital bed in a daze while you screamed through contractions. Not knowing how to help. Not knowing how to breathe.

He didn’t move until the doctor finally said, “It’s a girl.”

And then he stood. Slowly. Like in a dream.

And when they placed her in your arms, tiny and red and squirming—

You saw the moment he fell in love all over again.

She was so small.

Nothing like him. Nothing like the boy who used to throw punches harder than grown men. She was fragile and pink and soft like you. Her hair was dark. Her nose was small. Her fingers curled when he leaned over you and touched her.

And then she grabbed his pinky.

Seong-je made a sound you’d never heard from him before.

Like a breath. Like a sob.

“Can I hold her?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You nodded and gently passed her into his arms.

He looked terrified. Hands braced like she might crumble in his grip. But she didn’t.

She fit.

Like she’d always belonged there.

“Hi,” he whispered. “I’m your appa.”

She hiccuped.

And he smiled.

Smiled—big, full, crinkly-eyed and raw like his heart had finally stopped fighting.

“Y/N,” he said, looking at you. “She’s... perfect.”

“She looks like you,” you said.

“No. She looks like you. That’s why she’s beautiful.”

You cried. Just a little.

So did he.

A YEAR LATER

“Appaaaaaaa!”

The little voice echoed down the hallway, fast and giggly and growing louder by the second.

Seong-je barely looked up from where he was washing strawberries. “You’re gonna slip again.”

“No, I’m not!” came the squeal.

A second later— Thud.

You peeked around the corner.

“Baby?” you called, setting down your book. “Did she fall?”

“She’s fine,” Seong-je said, sighing like he hadn’t just dropped the bowl of strawberries and rushed into the hallway with panic in his eyes.

Your one-year-old was sitting on the floor with a dramatic pout and watery eyes.

Seong-je knelt. “Where’d it hurt?”

She pointed at her elbow.

He kissed it. “All better?”

“Better,” she sniffled, latching onto him like a koala.

You watched from the doorway, heart full, hiding your grin.

You knew this version of him was only yours.

To the rest of the world, he was still intimidating. Quiet. Brooding. Still kept a baseball bat in the trunk of his car just in case. Still glared at men who looked too long at you when you were out shopping with a baby on your hip.

But at home?

He knelt for his daughter when she fell.

He cut strawberries into heart shapes because she liked them “cuuute like mama.”

He laid with her every night until she fell asleep—one big hand cradling her tiny back.

She’d started calling him her “giant.”

And you believed her.

Because he held her like she was the whole world.

Some nights, when she was asleep and you were curled in his lap on the couch, he’d run his fingers down your spine and say:

“I was so scared I’d fuck it all up.”

“You haven’t,” you’d whisper.

“I think I love her more than I knew I could love anything.”

You’d kiss his jaw. “You’re a good father.”

And he’d whisper it back, every time:

“I wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for you.”

A FEW YEARS LATER

Your daughter stood in the middle of the park, hands on her hips, furious at a little boy who had pushed her.

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, her voice echoing.

The boy looked stunned.

You watched from the bench, raising a brow as Seong-je sipped his iced coffee beside you.

“Your DNA’s showing,” you said dryly.

“She did good,” he replied, deadpan.

“She gets that temper from you.”

“She gets her forgiveness from you.”

The little boy apologized. Your daughter nodded and shook his hand.

Seong-je’s mouth twitched.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured.

You looked at him. “Yeah?”

He kissed your temple.

“Just like her mother.”

[istanstraykidss]

Seongje imagine -with x links-(sfw)

when you are on your period seongje treats you like his baby whenever he can even tho hes sp rough(photo)

when you guys first slept together this was the aftercare morning(gif)

You guys went to a dress up party together and decided to match

After you guys had an argument he put your guy’s picture in his wallet because you werent talking to him and he missed you.

He took you out for lunch since you were mad at him

Seongje after you guys had a tiring day is giving this☹️☹️

This js gives seongje after being jealous idk

okay yall this is it pls dm me if yall have any asks etc

[istanstraykidss]

I just read your Sieun with big boobs reader. Can you do a Seongje version

💋 “You Gonna Hide Those From Me Forever?”

Seongje x Fem!Reader (Big Boobs Edition) 💥 friends to something-else | teasing | slow tension | soft-filthy smut 📏 reader is busty and shy about it, Seongje is not subtle 🩵 tone: playful, hot, but with a little tension and surprise softness underneath

You're used to boys staring. You're not used to Seongje staring.

He’s always had that smug, easy attitude—confident in a way that made most people roll their eyes. You, though? You kept your distance. Not out of dislike—but because you knew the moment he noticed you?

You’d be doomed.

So you wore hoodies. Crossed your arms. Avoided leaning forward when you sat near him.

But Seongje wasn’t stupid. And one day—he finally called you out.

“You always wear stuff like that on purpose?” “Like what?” “Baggy. High collar. Arms crossed. You tryna hide something?”

Your throat dried. “No.”

He grinned. That Seongje grin. Arrogant. Dangerous. Knowing.

“Nah… you are. You totally are. Shit,” he laughed, leaning back. “How big are they?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re hiding D-cups in a zip-up. Who’s the real criminal here?”

You threatened to smack him. He didn’t stop grinning.

But a few days later, he walked in on you changing your shirt at your friend’s place.

He wasn’t supposed to be there.

You yelped and tried to cover yourself, arms crossed tightly over your chest—but it was too late.

His jaw dropped. Eyes glued.

“…Holy shit.”

“Seongje get out—!”

But he didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“You’ve been walking around like that this whole time?” he muttered, stunned. “No wonder I’ve been going insane.”

You threw a towel at him. He caught it—still staring.

“Let me see again.”

“What?!”

“I’m serious,” he said, voice lower now. Slower. “I’ve been trying to be good. I really have. But fuck—please. Just once.”

You didn’t say yes.

But you didn’t throw him out, either.

And a few seconds later, his fingers were brushing under your bra, tongue in your mouth, hips pressing you against the wall—

“So soft,” he murmured between kisses, eyes dark, “fuck, you’re so soft—”

He didn’t even make it to the bed. Just dropped to his knees in front of you, desperate and starved, hands everywhere—

“Bet you were hiding all this ‘cause you knew what I’d do to you, huh?”

You couldn’t even argue. Not with your shirt off and his mouth between your breasts.

kinda short but i dont have any isnpo

[istanstraykidss]

hi! I’d love it if you could write something about seongje x reader based on that one tweet that was like my girl can wear whatever she wants because I can break your jaw…maybe somebody saying something rude to the reader about her outfit or the opposite getting a little too flirty for seongje’s liking…curious to see what you could come up with

+ 𝗜 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗞 𝗔 𝗝𝗔𝗪

in which he makes sure that his girl is comfortable enough to wear anything she wants.

+ 𝗚𝗘𝗨𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚-𝗝𝗘 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

fluff

The apartment smelled like cologne, heat, and flat iron spray.

She was on her third outfit and her last nerve.

“Okay,” she mumbled to herself in the mirror, smoothing the hem of the skirt that barely brushed mid-thigh, “this one. Maybe.”

The black fabric clung to her hips, snug enough to notice. Paired with a cropped satin top and her hair still damp at the ends, she looked… good. Too good, maybe.

She tugged the skirt down a little.

“Too much?”

From the living room, Seong-je glanced up from the couch — sprawled out in a hoodie and jeans, one leg over the other, phone in hand but clearly not reading whatever was on the screen.

He blinked once when he saw her.

Then again. Slower.

“You’re wearing that?” he said, voice unreadable.

Her stomach dropped a little. “I was thinking, but—okay, I knew it was too much. I’ll change, I just thought I’d—”

“Did I say I didn’t like it?” he cut in.

She paused.

He got up, moved toward her slowly, the heavy steps of someone who wasn’t in a rush but still meant business. His eyes trailed over her legs, the curve of her waist, the soft skin just above the waistband of her skirt.

He stopped inches in front of her, gaze still low.

“Twirl.”

“What—”

“I said twirl.”

She raised an eyebrow but spun half-heartedly on her heel.

He exhaled sharply. “Yeah. You’re wearing that.”

Her laugh cracked out. “Seong-je—”

“No, really.” He hooked a finger into her waistband, tugging her closer until her hips bumped his. “If anyone says anything tonight—about your legs, or your ass, or your outfit—”

He leaned in, voice low and lazy like a threat wrapped in velvet.

“I’ll handle it.”

She looked up at him, lips parted.

“You’re serious.”

“I’m always serious about you.”

His hand slid from her waist to her jaw, tilting her face up gently.

“You wear what makes you feel hot,” he said. “Because you are. And if anyone forgets how to speak with respect…”

His eyes darkened. His thumb brushed her lower lip.

“I know how to break a jaw.”

✮⋆˙

The party was already packed by the time they arrived.

A rented flat just off campus—second-floor unit, high ceilings, too many people crammed into every room, music vibrating through the floor. Someone had brought LED lights and too many bottles, and the smell of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume clung to everything.

She tightened her grip on Seong-je’s hand as they stepped inside.

She wasn’t exactly shy. But walking into a room like this—with that outfit, with all those eyes—it made her skin crawl a little.

“Hey!” someone waved from the kitchen. “Drinks in here!”

She moved forward but froze when she realized Seong-je hadn’t followed.

He was still in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room with clinical precision—his jaw tense, shoulders squared.

“Seong-je?”

He blinked once and looked at her. “Yeah, go ahead.”

She leaned closer. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” he said, tone softening as he tucked a hand into her back. “Just watching.”

She smiled. “You always do.”

✮⋆˙

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on the couch, half-drunk on soda and stolen glances, when it happened.

A group of guys near the stereo had been whispering for a while—too obvious, too loud, the kind of confidence that only came in packs.

She caught a few words:

“Skirt…”

“…just asking for it…”

“…who brings their girl dressed like that to a party like this?”

And then:

“I’d lose it if she bent over in that, bro—”

That was the last sentence Seong-je heard before he stood up.

“Stay here,” he told her.

His tone didn’t change.

His steps weren’t fast.

But the feeling of him crossing the room made three people go silent before he even opened his mouth.

He didn’t raise his voice.

Just looked the guy dead in the eyes and said, “What did you just say about her?”

Silence.

Then stammering.

“Man, it was a joke—”

“She’s not a joke.”

Seong-je tilted his head. “She walked in looking better than anyone here, and the only thing that came out of your mouth was that?”

The guy glanced nervously at his friends, but no one stepped in.

“You wanna stare?” Seong-je went on, voice calm, lethal. “Fine. Stare. But you open your mouth again, I’ll make sure you have to sip your drinks through a tube for the next two months.”

The guy paled.

Seong-je didn’t blink.

“You get one warning,” he added. “This was it.”

And then he turned around, calm as ever, and walked back.

She was still on the couch, eyes wide, drink untouched.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She blinked. “You didn’t hit him.”

He leaned down, brushing her cheek with his knuckles.

“I wanted to,” he said. “But you look too good tonight.”

His lips touched her temple.

“Didn’t wanna get blood on you.”

✮⋆˙

They left early.

By the time they got back home, the music from the party still rang in her ears, but the tension had long since melted into something warmer.

She dropped her heels by the door, toes flexing against the cool floor.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, voice trailing.

He turned from the kitchen counter, where he was pouring them both some water. “For what?”

“For always making me feel safe.”

He came closer, handing her the glass, and when she took it, he pulled her into his chest instead. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and he pressed a kiss into her hair.

“You don’t need me to feel safe,” he said softly. “You could kill a man with that heel if you wanted.”

She snorted into his hoodie.

“But,” he added, voice quieter now, “you never have to deal with any of that alone.”

Her hands tightened in the fabric.

He held her like that for a long time. No rush. No expectations. Just warmth and his heartbeat steady under her ear.

“I hate that they looked at you like that,” he said eventually.

“I don’t care anymore,” she whispered. “Because you looked at me like I was the only one in the room.”

+ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 + 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

Hope you enjoyed it <3

+ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

@sunnyophelia @atztrsr @snoopsyka @cayrelyra @symphonies-of-poenies @ghost-reine @ginaaaa29 @gacktsa @inom17 @coffee-ii @dna-black-and-blue @intoanothermind @satoru2716 @kyungjunnies @changbinkisser @mishh2728 @0waves2earth @ashayein @janjoonty @ineed-myspace @loveg4lore @itzcandy

[istanstraykidss]

Okay I’m really starting to miss demon slayer

[istanstraykidss]

Haiiiiii💖💖i REALLY LOVE your seong je fics can i request one identical to the six feet away smoking one but this time the reason is because he likes her and havent confessed leaving the girl confused why everyone around her mostly thugs avoid her when shes tge type to pick fights out of pure annoyance with them, i’ll leave the ending to youu😼💖😘😘

-sorry i didn’t word it that well🥹but i hope you get the gist

+ 𝗦𝗜𝗫 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘

in which, he likes her, but instead of confessing, he quietly commands everyone else in the Union to stay at least six feet away from her—not to protect her, but because he wants to be the only one close to her.

+ 𝗚𝗘𝗨𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚-𝗝𝗘 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

fluff

It started gradually.

So gradually she didn’t notice at first.

The first time someone stepped out of her way, she thought it was a fluke. Maybe they just had good reflexes. Maybe they didn’t want trouble. She did have a bit of a reputation—short fuse, sharp tongue, quicker fists.

But when it happened again the next day—then again, and again, and again—it stopped feeling like coincidence.

Something was wrong.

Because Kanghak High wasn’t a kind place. It was crawling with Union lackeys and wannabe thugs who usually had no issue bumping into her, cornering her in the hall, laughing when she shoved back.

But now?

They saw her coming—and moved.

Like she was a fire they weren’t allowed to touch.

She even tried to pick a fight with one of them just to test it.

A guy twice her size had brushed her shoulder at the stairwell. Normally, that would've led to an elbow to his ribs and some choice words.

So she squared up, glared at him, snapped, “You blind or just stupid?”

But instead of smirking or pushing her back, he looked… nervous.

And he backed off. Fast.

“Nah, I—I wasn’t tryna start nothin’, alright?” he mumbled, hands raised like she had a gun pointed at him. “Sorry.”

Sorry?

Since when did Kanghak apologize?

She turned, heart pounding, catching the way the guy glanced over her shoulder—

And froze.

Because behind her, leaning casually against the railing, was Geum Seong-je.

Watching.

✮⋆˙

He was always watching.

From the edge of the cafeteria. From the rooftop railing. From the shadows in the gym. Always chewing gum, always too still, always looking like he was waiting for something.

She used to ignore it.

Used to roll her eyes and chalk it up to typical gang-boss arrogance.

But lately?

The stare felt heavier. Thicker. Like the air shifted when he was around.

And now people moved around her like she had an invisible bubble—and Seong-je stood right outside it, arms folded, smirk twisting at the corner of his lips.

Always close enough to see her.

Never close enough to touch her.

But no one else even dared to try.

✮⋆˙

She heard the phrase one day—accidentally, through a half-open classroom window.

“Don’t go near her,” someone said. “Seong-je’ll rip your face off.”

She held her breath.

“Yeah, I’m not kidding. He said six feet minimum. Anyone breaks it, they answer to him.”

Her heart thudded.

Six feet.

A goddamn radius like she was radioactive.

A territory.

✮⋆˙

Later that day, she found him alone on the outdoor basketball court, the sun bleeding gold over cracked pavement and chain-link fences. He was shooting hoops lazily, sleeves rolled up, eyes heavy-lidded and sweat glistening on his neck.

“You made a rule,” she said, marching up to him.

He didn’t stop playing.

Just caught the rebound one-handed and turned toward her with that same unreadable expression.

“Did I?”

“You told everyone to stay six feet away from me.”

He tossed the ball to the ground. It rolled lazily to the fence.

She stepped closer.

He didn’t move.

“They act like I’ve got a bomb strapped to my chest,” she snapped. “Even the Union’s freaks won’t look at me for more than three seconds.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t deny it.

Didn’t laugh.

Just stared at her like she was the problem he’d been trying not to solve.

“And you,” she hissed, stepping into his space. “You’re always right there. Watching. Like a dog on a leash you tied yourself.”

Still no response.

Her voice dropped. “Why?”

And that’s when he moved.

Not fast—not rough—but deliberate. Slow enough to make her heart stutter. His fingers brushed her wrist, and her whole arm went still. She didn’t know if it was the touch or the audacity of it that left her breathless.

“I don’t want anyone else near you,” he said quietly.

She blinked.

“What?”

“I don’t want their hands brushing your shoulder. I don’t want their eyes following you down the hall. I don’t want them breathing the same air you do if I’m not there.”

Her throat dried.

“That’s not—” she tried, but her words failed.

He stepped even closer, a breath away, and now she could smell the sweat on his skin, the faint bite of spearmint gum on his breath.

“I don’t like sharing,” he said.

“You don’t even have me,” she whispered.

His eyes dropped to her mouth.

“Yet.”

+ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 + 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

hope you enjoyed it!!

+ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

@sunnyophelia @atztrsr @snoopsyka @cayrelyra @symphonies-of-poenies @ghost-reine @ginaaaa29 @gacktsa @inom17 @coffee-ii @dna-black-and-blue @intoanothermind @satoru2716 @kyungjunnies @changbinkisser @mishh2728 @0waves2earth @ashayein @janjoonty @ineed-myspace @loveg4lore @itzcandy

[istanstraykidss]

Hi, how are you? I hope everything its fine. ✨

Can i request a fic about seong-je, where he's with the reader for a few weeks now, and the reader's friends (Baku ecc...) start to suspect that she's seeing someone and start investigating who It could be, since she's always try to avoid their questions, until one day they find out and don't take It well.

Thank you for your work, your writing is beautiful. 💕

+ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘'𝗦 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗗𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪

in which her friends uncover the secret she's been hiding—only to learn that love doesn't always look the way they expect it to.

+ 𝗚𝗘𝗨𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚-𝗝𝗘 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

fluff

It started off harmless.

Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Just a few ignored calls. Some half-hearted excuses. A subtle shift in the way she smiled when they asked where she’d been.

It was nothing, really. Nothing they’d notice.

Except they did.

Because it wasn’t nothing to them. Not to Baku, not to Si-eun, and especially not to Gotak.

And that was the problem.

✮⋆˙

“You’ve been acting weird,” Baku said one afternoon, voice too blunt to be casual, too heavy to brush off.

They sat on the steps outside Eunjang’s gym, the sun throwing long, gold-tipped shadows across the pavement. Sweat still clung to his collarbone from practice, but his eyes were sharp—watchful.

She barely looked up from her drink. “Weird how?”

He didn’t blink. “Like… ghosting the group chat. Ducking questions. Sneaking off early every damn time we hang out.”

“Last Friday too,” Gotak added, his voice soft, almost reluctant. He was seated just below them, thumbs nervously picking at the damp label on his water bottle. “You said you had a call. Something about your cousin.”

A lie. A lazy one. Her stomach twisted around it.

Across from them, Si-eun flipped a page in his book but didn’t look up.

“You always say you’re tired. Or busy,” he said, voice even and cold. “Yet your phone lights up like a Christmas tree every time you turn it face-down.”

She tried to laugh, even forced a smirk. “Wow. You guys sound like jealous boyfriends.”

But no one laughed.

And in that silence, she realized just how thin her lies had worn.

✮⋆˙

It was getting harder to lie. Not just to them—but to herself.

Because every time she walked away from her friends, she was walking toward him.

Geum Seong-je. All smirks and bruised knuckles and a name that echoed through alleys like a warning.

With him, everything felt dangerous. Chaotic. Addictive.

But he looked at her like she wasn’t. Like she was something soft and untouchable. The one thing he didn’t want to ruin.

And that was worse. Because it made her want to believe this was more than what it looked like.

That maybe he wasn’t just the monster they painted him to be.

Even if he kind of was.

Even if they’d never understand.

Especially because they wouldn’t.

✮⋆˙

That night, Seong-je pulled her into him with lazy ease, his arms slipping around her waist like they belonged there. The hum of the city below faded as his lips brushed the corner of her mouth.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, voice rough at the edges. “Something up?”

Her head fell to his shoulder. He always smelled like smoke, leather, and the last thing she should want.

But there was something warm underneath it—something steady.

“They’re starting to notice,” she whispered.

He gave a low chuckle against her skin. “Let them.”

“They’re not going to take it well.”

He tilted her chin, thumb grazing her bottom lip. “They’re not the ones kissing you like this.”

And then he did kiss her. Slow. Possessive. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to ruin it all on her.

She kissed him back, even as something inside her screamed not to.

Because he made her feel like the world stopped spinning when he touched her.

And she wasn’t ready to let go of that yet.

✮⋆˙

The truth didn’t just slip out. It detonated.

It was a Thursday. She’d promised to come study at Baku’s place—something routine. Familiar.

But at the last minute, she sent a half-hearted text: headache. can’t make it. sorry.

She didn’t know they’d follow her.

Didn’t know they’d track her.

And she definitely didn’t expect to get caught wrapped up in Seong-je’s arms in the alley behind Kanghak—his jacket around her shoulders, his hand curled protectively at her waist.

She heard the sound of footsteps too late. Felt her body go cold before she even turned.

“Y/N?”

Baku’s voice cracked like thunder.

Her spine went rigid. Her heart stopped.

Behind him stood Jun-tae, Si-eun, and Gotak—each of them wearing a different shade of disbelief. Betrayal. Hurt.

Jun-tae was the first to react, mouth agape. “No. No fucking way.”

Gotak’s eyes landed on Seong-je’s hand. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

Si-eun’s expression didn’t change, but the white-knuckled grip of his fists said enough.

Seong-je didn’t flinch. He just raised a brow, smug and unconcerned. “Ah. The rescue squad.”

“Him?” Baku’s voice was tight. Bitter. “You’re with him?”

Her throat closed. She tried to speak, but the words tangled.

“Since when?” Gotak asked quietly. Like he didn’t want the answer but needed it anyway.

“A few weeks,” she managed, barely above a whisper.

The rain started then. Soft at first. A drizzle that turned into a cold, unforgiving sheet.

Jun-tae took a step forward. “A few weeks? You’ve been lying to us for weeks?”

“She didn’t lie,” Seong-je drawled, clearly bored now. “She just didn’t owe you the truth.”

Baku lunged, but Gotak grabbed his arm, held him back.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Baku snarled at her. “You’re dating him? After everything he’s done?”

“I’m not dating Union,” she snapped, voice cracking. “I’m dating him.”

“That is him!” Jun-tae shouted. “He is Union!”

Her chest heaved, vision blurring with heat and rain and guilt. She looked at each of them—boys she’d bled with, laughed with, leaned on.

None of them looked at her the same way anymore.

Only with disappointment. Disbelief. And something that hurt more than anything:

Distance.

✮⋆˙

That night, she sat on the rooftop of Seong-je’s apartment, knees tucked to her chest, hair clinging to her cheeks in wet strands.

She didn’t hear him arrive. Just felt the shift of the air as he slid down beside her.

“They found out,” she said hoarsely.

“I was there.”

“I think I lost them.”

He didn’t speak. The silence stretched.

“They’re like my family,” she added, quieter now. “They’ve always been.”

A long pause.

“And what am I?” he asked finally. The question was soft. Honest. It caught her off guard.

She turned to him, heart aching. “I don’t know.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He looked away, the mask slipping for a second. “Some phase, huh?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not a phase.”

He turned back to her. Leaned in. Pressed his forehead against hers.

“I know what you are,” he whispered.

“What?”

His hand reached up, brushing a rain-soaked strand from her cheek. His thumb lingered.

“Mine.”

And this time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t reckless.

It was full of everything they couldn’t say.

✮⋆˙

The next day, she didn’t show up to school.

Not because she was afraid of facing them. But because she didn’t know how.

How to look them in the eye when all she could think about was the way they looked at her last night—like she was something they didn’t recognize anymore.

She didn’t eat. Barely slept. Her phone buzzed with unread messages:

Baku [3 missed calls]

Si-eun: You okay.

Gotak: Let me know if you want to talk.

Jun-tae: …Seriously?

She didn’t respond.

✮⋆˙

It took two more days before she finally showed up to the old basketball court behind the gym. The one they used to hang out at after class. The one that still smelled like sun-warmed rubber and sweat and summer.

They were all there. Waiting.

The moment she stepped into view, silence fell like a blanket.

Even Baku didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at her, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, brows low and unreadable.

Gotak gave her a faint nod. Si-eun didn’t look up from his bench. Jun-tae folded his arms and looked away entirely.

She swallowed hard. “Can we talk?”

No one answered.

She stepped into the center of the court. It felt like standing trial.

“I know you’re angry,” she said. “I don’t blame you.”

Still nothing. Her throat burned, but she pushed forward.

“But I didn’t lie to hurt you. I didn’t mean to lie at all—it just… happened. One moment, it was nothing. And the next…” Her voice wavered. “He was kind. He listened. He never made me feel small.”

Baku let out a hollow laugh. “Seong-je? Kind? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He is,” she said quietly. “Not to you. I get that. But with me… he’s different.”

“That’s the problem,” Jun-tae stated. “You only see the version you get.”

“I know what he’s done.” Her voice was low now, but firm. “I’m not pretending he’s perfect. I’m not stupid.”

“Then what are you?” Baku asked, tone biting. “Just blind?”

“No.” She paused. “Just… tired of being told who I’m allowed to love.”

That shut them up.

The words hung heavy in the air, soaked with honesty and hurt.

“He’s not what you think,” she continued, softer now. “I’ve seen him at his worst too. I’m not excusing anything. But he’s never tried to hide from me. Never lied to me. Never judged me when I broke down in his arms at 2AM because I couldn’t sleep. Because I thought you would hate me if you knew.”

Her eyes flicked to Baku. “He holds me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.”

To Si-eun. “He’s the only one who knew I’ve been having panic attacks again.”

To Gotak. “He makes me laugh when I forget how to.”

And finally, to Jun-tae. “He tells me I’m strong when I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Another beat of silence.

Then—quietly, like it pained him—Gotak spoke first. “Did you tell him about… us?”

She nodded. “All of it.”

“And he still…?”

“Still looks at me like I’m the only soft thing in his world.”

Si-eun’s voice was neutral. But it came with a weight. “What happens when that world swallows you whole?”

Her eyes met his. “Then I’ll fight my way back.”

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then Baku stepped forward.

He didn’t look angry anymore. Just tired. Conflicted.

“You love him?” he asked.

She didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Another pause.

And then, with a heavy sigh, Baku muttered, “Fuck.”

It wasn’t acceptance. Not yet.

But it wasn’t rejection either.

“Fine,” he said at last, rubbing a hand through his hair. “If he hurts you, I will kill him.”

“Me too,” Jun-tae muttered, still scowling.

Gotak gave a quiet hum. “I think I want to meet the version of him you see.”

Even Si-eun shut his book with a sigh. “You’d better not start showing up with matching jackets.”

And just like that, the ice cracked.

It wasn’t completely thawed—but it was enough.

She let out a shaky breath and stepped closer. “Thank you. For still letting me show up.”

Baku rolled his eyes. “We’re not that forgiving. We just like you more than we hate him.”

“But not by much,” Jun-tae added darkly.

She laughed—small, but real.

And for the first time in days, it didn’t feel like she had to choose between the boy who held her heart and the friends who held her history.

+ 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 + 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

Hope you enjoyed this!!

+ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

@sunnyophelia @atztrsr @snoopsyka @cayrelyra @symphonies-of-poenies @ghost-reine @ginaaaa29 @gacktsa @inom17 @coffee-ii @dna-black-and-blue @intoanothermind @satoru2716 @kyungjunnies @changbinkisser @mishh2728 @0waves2earth @ashayein @janjoonty @ineed-myspace @loveg4lore @itzcandy

[istanstraykidss]

maybe bf!gotak and 'think fast i'm a random girl' trend?

"think fast, i'm a random girl!"

go hyuntak, yeon sieun, ahn suho, park humin/baku, seo juntae, keum seongje, na baekjin

go hyuntak

» it takes a moment for the words to register, but he understands the reference quickly from a tiktok he saw a few days prior. he never thought you would do it on him though. luckily, he has the perfect plan

» dodges any attempts for you to touch/grab him, darting away with quick feet. even jumps onto some furniture too

» "don't touch me! i have a girlfriend!" he screams it while you're both laughing like madmen as he keeps slipping from your grasp, running around your furniture

» eventually you two end up tripping over each other, with you falling onto hyuntak's chest and knocking the air out of him

» "i'm.. telling my.. girlfriend." he wheezes out, out of breath from the impromptu chase session. he's too tired to push you off, so he just lays star-fished out on the ground

» you lift your head slightly to look him in the eye and hyuntak immediately takes an interest in the ceiling, still acting like you're a random girl

» "hm. you should've pushed me off but you passed. nine out of ten."

» "you think i have the strength to push you off while you ran after me like tom and jerry?! i should get full points," hyuntak pouts, flicking your forehead

» "minus two points for hurting your girlfriend."

yeon sieun

» ??????????

» has no clue what you're talking about. just stares confused as you try and explain the trend to him, but he just continues staring with a deadpan face

» "you.. want me to act like you're a random girl?"

» "yes! okay, pretend i'm a random girl from your cram school." you walk up to him and wrap your arm around his, leaning in for a kiss

» sieun rolls his eyes but plays along anyway, putting on his most stoic face for you. he proceeds to hand his notes over to you and untangle himself from you, effectively dodging all your moves.

» you stand still for a couple seconds, waiting for his next move. he just begins studying like nothing happened. well that was fast.

» "thats it?" you ask. that was so ... sieun.

» "you're just getting my notes. what else should i do?" sieun furrows his brows, genuinely confused. okay maybe in retrospect you should've clarified a little. sieun heard 'cram school' and his mind immediately thought of studying

» a semi-failed attempt because sieun is sieun. he scores an eight and a half out of ten for keeping it short and quick, you suppose.

ahn suho

» shrieks the second you step within a foot of him, already meters away in the blink of an eye

» "get away from me!" he takes up a defensive stance, cowering behind his arms

» "but i–" you don't even get three words in before suho interrupts you with a loud yell

» "not interested, lady!"

» somehow, somewhere, he got ahold of a frying pan in the few moments you took your eyes off him. now he just looked insane, waving it around your apartment while hooting and hollering

» you can't even get your words out with how hard you're laughing, tears forming in your eyes

» suho's act starts to fall when he notices, letting out giggles of his own. when you recollect yourself, he snaps back into character

» "don't look at me! i'm happily taken, i'll have you know!"

» "but can you help me?" you bat your eyes, hoping to lure him in for a kiss. there's not much to do when he has a frying pan, unless you want a concussion (though you both know he would never hurt you)

» "no can do!"

» after a stare-down between you and suho, you give a firm nod and a thumbs up. "ten out of ten. i raised you well."

» suho smirks and scoops you up in a bear hug, taking your feet off the floor for a few seconds. "so, can i get a reward for doing so well? or.."

baku

» you have to take multiple shots because baku keeps kissing you back and holding your waist too tenderly. he can't pretend for the life of him

» "babe, you have to pretend i'm not me."

» "but why?" sulks like a puppy each time you tell him he failed. after the third attempt (he just wanted kisses) he promises to actually do it

» "nope! i'm taken." his hand is holding your face pushing you away. you try to advance forward, but he's holding you completely in place with just a hand after a few seconds of struggling, he grabs you up by your ass and wraps your legs around him

» "can we do something funner now?" seems like you weren't the only one affect by the display of strength. horny bastard

» eleven out of ten for effectiveness (bonus point for the sex afterwards)

seo juntae

» similar ??? reaction to sieun. he's a bit (months) late to trends, so he hasn't caught wind of this one yet

» "but why would i do that baby? you're not just any random woman to me, you're–"

» you cut him off before he can wax poetics about you and how much you mean to him. "no, tae, it's like a trend. just pretend okay?"

» juntae pouts but agrees. he's surprised when you grab him by his face and press chaste kisses all over his face, melting into the touch for a moment before remembering what you wanted him to do

» "aah! wait, no!!" juntae pushes you off a little too hard, sending you to tumbling to the floor. he gasps and rushes to your side, "are you hurt?!"

» challenge is cut short when juntae is in tears over hurting you, and you reassure him it was fun and it really didn't hurt. he's too soft for his own good

» six out of ten for the delayed reaction, but he gets a ten out of ten in your heart

keum seongje

» "now why would i do that, sweetheart?"

» has seen the challenge one or two times, but always skipped it because it was boring. he doesn't understand why you want to do it, everyone already knows not to approach him (both men and women)

» "just do it, please?" you plead, putting on your best puppy eyes. seongje relents, and agrees to do it begrudgingly.

» "don't get mad at me for what i do, 'kay?" seongje raises an eyebrow at how excited you look. obviously he won't punch the shit out of you just for some 'trend', so he'll just stick to a watered down version of his actual reaction

» when you start walking towards him with your hands out—looking for a hug—he quickly swipes his feet to send you falling

» "whoops, didn't see you there." he says dryly, leaving you on the floor.

» you roll over onto your back, and look up at him. you laugh and give a thumbs up. he passed. "eight out of ten, good job." minus two points for not being straightforward about it

» "not a ten out of ten? i'm hurt sweetheart," seongje watches as you get up, dusting off your clothes. damn. and he thought he did good too. maybe he should've went for a light slap?

na baekjin

» a bit confused because 1. what the fuck is this trend and 2. he's so busy with union work and keeping his grades that he hasn't had time to doomscroll as much as you do

» you explain it to him, and he agrees to do it with you. he wasn't expecting you to launch towards him with puckered lips, landing a kiss on his cheek within seconds.

» keep a straight face and uses his notebook of motorcycle orders to swat at your face like a fly. "i have a girlfriend." he says, lightly patting your face with the rolled up notebook on each word

» not very effective on you, since you keep going anyways. but if it was any other girl they'd get scared off (probably). if it works, it works

» "eight point five out of ten, you were hitting me too lightly."

» "that's not fair!" everyone knows baekjin has the biggest soft spot for you, he can't bring himself to hurt you in the slightest. sucks for him though, he lost two points because of that

fin

a/n didn't really know how to write it bc i felt like it's be too short either way, so i decided to do multiple characters to make it less empty (;;;*_*)

alsooo it has come to my attention i've been neglecting my poor baby suho 💔 will be writing more of him in the future i promise! also psst what do we think of these style headcanons for these type of posts? would love some feedback ^___^

[istanstraykidss]

hii! Could you pleaaase make a baekjin x fem!reader x seongje, i haven’t seen anything like this and ik you’ll write it goooddd 🥹🫶🏻

three wolves, one flame | geum seong je x union!reader x na baek jin

summary: they run the city’s shadows with cold hands and colder eyes—two boys circling the same girl like orbiting wolves, too stubborn to say they care, too loyal to walk away. in smoke, silence, and bruised affection, they protect what they won't name.

warnings: [slow burn] violence, blood, language, implied emotional trauma, smoking,

author's note: i lowkey fell in love with this one. contemplating if i should turn this into a series or just mini chapters because i have no idea on how to continue this.. so please lmk, anyway! requests ,,

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , one .. two .. ??

the air inside baek jin’s office always smelled like old paper, cigarette smoke, and something faintly metallic—like blood that never quite left the floor. the room was small but efficient. a modest desk sat tucked against the far wall, cluttered with files and an aging laptop baek jin used for both homework and union logistics. behind him, shelves groaned under the weight of ledgers, envelopes, and binders—some labeled, some not. a coat rack stood near the door, his school uniform jacket hanging neatly as always, untouched and ghost-like.

on the couch, which was barely wide enough for two, she sat cross-legged, a thick folder open on her lap. her fingers were stained with ink and nicotine, flipping pages with practiced speed. her brows were drawn tight in concentration, but her mouth was already forming insults.

“you’re breathing too loud. move.”

beside her, seong je let out a long, lazy exhale, smoke trailing from his lips. “it’s my lungs. want me to stop breathing next?” his thumb scrolled absently on his phone.

“you say that like it’s a bad idea.”

“you like having me around. admit it.”

she snorted. “i’d rather put out this cigarette in my eye.”

baek jin didn’t look up from his desk. this was routine. predictable. he only paused for a second when seong je flicked a crumpled receipt at her face, smirking when it bounced off her forehead.

“touch me again, i will rip your ears off and mail them to your mother,” she said, without even flinching.

“joke’s on you, she’s already deaf.”

that earned him a hard jab to the ribs with the sharp edge of a folder. he groaned theatrically, tipping his head back against the couch and blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

“i swear to god, you're like a feral cat with a calculator,” he muttered.

“and you’re a hemorrhoid with a motorcycle license.”

baek jin turned a page. the yelling had escalated, but it was background noise. normal. expected.

the argument died the same way it always did—abruptly and without resolution.

she slammed the folder shut and stood. the air shifted. joon and gyung, who had been waiting outside the office door like loyal shadows, straightened as she stepped out.

“collection day,” she said simply, already moving.

seong je rolled his shoulders and stood with her, but she didn’t wait. joon and gyung fell in line behind her like trained dogs, their footsteps echoing as the group left the safe walls of the bowling alley and stepped into the dusk.

@ . !

they found them behind a school, deep in the alley that smelled like piss and motor oil. it was a place for things that didn’t want to be seen—perfect for business.

a few boys loitered under the flickering light. low-ranking union lackeys, careless with the rules. she stopped a few feet away, her presence slicing through the tension like a box cutter.

“you’ve got my money?” she asked, voice cool, indifferent.

one of the boys stepped forward. too confident. too dumb. “you don’t get to bark orders at us, bitch.”

seong je was sitting nearby, on a low concrete barrier, smoking. he didn’t move. not yet. he was watching, the way a wolf watches another predator test its luck.

she didn’t blink. “you’re two days late.”

the guy stepped closer, nudging her shoulder. once. twice.

“maybe you wait a little longer,” he said with a smirk. “maybe say please.”

behind her, joon and gyung tensed. she didn’t say anything, just gave a lazy glance to her left.

gyung understood the signal.

the jab to the gut was fast and brutal—air left the guy’s lungs like a popped balloon. he stumbled back, wheezing, while the others flinched. two of them ran.

“go,” she said calmly.

joon darted after them.

only two remained: the one bent over in pain, and another who hadn’t moved yet, watching with wide eyes, deciding if he wanted to be stupid or not.

she crouched beside the first guy, lit another cigarette with a flick of her lighter, and exhaled slowly.

“you work for me,” she said. “you pay, or you bleed. got it?”

the second guy tensed—fight won the war in his brain.

he lunged.

he never reached her.

seong je was a blur of violence—one second on the edge of the scene, the next driving a fist into the boy’s face hard enough to drop him instantly. no words. no warning. just pure, sharp brutality.

he didn’t stop.

fists rained down, calculated and furious. blood splattered against the wall. the sound of bone meeting flesh echoed through the alley.

she stood slowly, arms crossed, cigarette glowing.

“enough,” she said.

seong je didn’t look at her right away. his fists paused mid-motion. then he stood, blood staining his knuckles, breathing hard.

she met his eyes for a moment. something silent passed between them. then she turned and walked away.

“get the cash,” she called over her shoulder.

gyung moved without question.

seong je wiped his hand on his shirt and lit a new cigarette. he glanced once at the boy groaning on the ground and then followed her into the dark.

business, as always, was done.

@ . !

the streets were quieter now. the sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows that swallowed the cracks in the pavement. she walked ahead, cigarette still burning between her fingers, the orange tip flaring with every drag. her steps were calm, composed, like she hadn’t just threatened teenagers and watched one get half-pulped into a brick wall.

behind her, seong je followed. blood still clung to the ridges of his knuckles, crusting dry in the creases, but he didn’t care. he never did. he flicked his own cigarette aside and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

they walked in silence for a while, their footsteps echoing softly in rhythm. the kind of quiet that buzzed—static thick with unspoken things.

“you know,” seong je finally said, “you could’ve told gyung to handle it before that dumbass even touched you.”

she didn’t look at him. “he barely touched me.”

“he pushed you.”

“and i didn’t fall. so?”

he scoffed, catching up until they walked shoulder to shoulder. “you’re insane.”

“says the guy who beat someone half to death over a shoulder nudge.”

he grinned. “you like it when i get violent.”

she rolled her eyes. “i like it when you shut the fuck up.”

“but you let me handle it.”

“i let you burn calories.”

seong je laughed under his breath, a short, dry sound. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

“for what?”

“for being your unhinged guard dog.”

“you’re not my anything.”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he glanced sideways at her—at the bruise just barely starting to form on her collarbone where the guy had pushed her, at the cigarette held steady between her fingers, at the calm, calculated cold in her eyes.

he liked her too much. it was a problem he hadn’t figured out how to fix.

“...you patched me up last week,” he muttered. “don’t pretend like you don’t care.”

“i patched you up so you wouldn’t bleed on baek jin’s couch.”

“sure,” he said. “totally believable.”

she slowed a bit, enough that he noticed but didn’t comment. she glanced over, squinting at him through the dimming light.

“you’re bleeding,” she said flatly.

“you always say that like it’s a surprise.”

she stopped walking. so did he.

“you’re an idiot,” she said, stepping in close. her hand reached for his face, thumb brushing a cut on his cheekbone. it was rough, not tender—like everything she did. “you didn’t have to go that far.”

“he was gonna hit you.”

“i had it handled.”

“yeah,” he muttered, not smiling anymore. “but i don’t like watching people touch you.”

her expression didn’t change. not much. maybe a flicker in her eyes. maybe.

she shoved his face gently to the side with the palm of her hand. “possessive freak.”

he grinned again. “you love it.”

“i tolerate it.”

“that’s practically a love confession coming from you.”

she started walking again. “say one more word and i’ll smoke my cigarette out on your forehead.”

he laughed, trailing behind her.

and behind the sarcasm and bruised knuckles, there was something solid between them—twisted, loud, dysfunctional.

@ . !

by the time they reached the back entrance of the bowling alley, the sky had faded to charcoal grey. the neon sign buzzed above them, flickering like it was trying to decide whether to die or hang on another day. she pushed the door open with her shoulder and stepped inside, the familiar scent of oil, dust, and stale air greeting her like a second home.

seong je followed her, hands still in his pockets, quieter now. at the door to baek jin’s office, he hesitated. she paused, looking back at him.

“i’m heading to the internet café,” he said, voice casual, but his eyes lingered on her a little longer than necessary. “need to blow off some steam.”

she shrugged, already reaching for the doorknob. “go waste your brain cells.”

he smirked. “you love me dumb.”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

she pushed the door open and stepped inside. he didn’t follow.

“patch your hand,” she added over her shoulder. “or don’t. maybe it’ll rot off.”

“aw, worried about me,” he teased.

she gave him the finger without turning around.

he chuckled and walked off, footsteps fading down the hall.

inside, baek jin didn’t look up as she entered. he was at his desk, sleeves rolled up, pencil in hand, methodically underlining something in one of the ledgers. the room felt quieter without seong je in it—thicker, somehow.

she dropped her bag beside the couch and sank into it with a tired exhale. the tension hadn’t left her body yet, but it always faded in here. in this space where time moved slower, where baek jin never asked more than she wanted to give.

“you’re back early,” he said after a moment, eyes still on the paper.

“boys ran faster than usual.”

he nodded once. “anyone give you trouble?”

she pulled another cigarette from her pocket. “one tried. he didn’t try again.”

this time, baek jin did look up. his eyes flicked to her shoulder, narrowing slightly. “you’re bruised.”

“occupational hazard,” she muttered, lighting up.

he stared at her a second longer, then stood. she watched him cross the room in that quiet, deliberate way he moved—like he didn’t waste energy on anything that didn’t matter. he disappeared behind her for a moment. when he came back, he tossed his jacket over her.

she stiffened slightly, cigarette hovering near her lips.

“still cold,” he said simply, sitting back down.

“i’m not cold.”

“you always say that.”

she didn’t take it off.

they sat like that for a while. just the two of them. him scribbling quietly. her smoking in silence, baek jin’s jacket draped over her shoulders like it belonged there.

no yelling. no banter.

just stillness.

the only sound for a long while was the scratch of baek jin’s pencil against paper and the occasional soft crackle of her cigarette.

“you let seong je come with you again,” baek jin said eventually, not looking up.

she snorted. “he follows me around like a leech. what am i supposed to do? spray him with bug repellent?”

“he’s loud,” baek jin replied calmly.

“so are you, when you feel like it.”

“not with fists.”

she gave a half-smirk, flicking ash into the tray on the coffee table. “you jealous?”

“no,” he said plainly. “he’s reckless. you’re not.”

“he only steps in when i let him.” she tilted her head against the back of the couch, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. “you know that.”

baek jin hummed, noncommittal, and went back to his work.

for a while, there was nothing but silence again. not awkward. not empty. just their kind of quiet.

“you still live off convenience store food?” she asked after a minute, squinting at him.

“i eat what’s easy.”

“that’s not eating. that’s survival.”

“i survive just fine.”

“could’ve fooled me,” she muttered, stretching out along the couch. “you’re gonna die from sodium poisoning before you even graduate.”

“and you’ll die from chain-smoking before i do.”

“touché,” she murmured, a tired smile curling at the corner of her mouth.

her voice grew softer, like sleep was already tugging at her edges. “...how do you do it?”

baek jin paused, pencil hovering over the paper. “do what?”

“stay calm all the time. even when shit hits the fan. even when everyone’s losing their heads.” her voice had dropped low. “how do you not break?”

he was quiet for a beat.

then, “because if i break, everything else does.”

she didn’t answer. her breathing was slowing now, cigarette burned out in the ashtray. she was curled on her side, one arm under her head, the other tugging baek jin’s jacket closer around her like she hadn’t meant to.

he glanced up, setting his pencil down soundlessly.

she was already asleep.

he stood, walked over with soft steps, and crouched beside the couch. carefully, he pulled the jacket tighter over her frame and adjusted the pillow under her head. for a second, his hand hovered near her temple, like he wanted to brush the hair away from her face—but didn’t.

baek jin’s face didn’t show much. it never did.

but something flickered in his eyes. something quiet. protective.

then he stood, returned to his desk, and went back to work.

behind him, she slept soundly under his jacket, breathing even and steady.

and outside, the world kept turning. dangerous. unforgiving.

but in here, for a little while longer, it was still.

✶ ᶻz .ᐟ , one .. two .. ??

[istanstraykidss]

"How they react when they get called by their full Name" // Tokyo Revengers

Charakters: Mikey, Sanzu, Kokonoi, Mitsuya, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Ran, Rindou, Izana

Synopsis: There’s one thing every Tokyo Rev boy knows: when you drop their full name — first and last — they’ve seriously screwed up. It could be a forgotten date, a stolen dessert, a jealous outburst, or just plain stupidity, but once that name leaves your lips? Oh, they feel it.

CW: Light cursing, jealousy/possessiveness, mild violence (slaps, fights), flirty teasing,emotional tension

Mikey (Manjiro Sano):

The sun was beginning to dip behind the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the Musashi Shrine. The old Toman gang had gathered there, much like they always did, lounging on the steps and chatting about their plans for the next big move. Mikey stood at the forefront, his jacket casually draped over his shoulders as he began to talk about the upcoming fight with another gang. Draken, always close behind him, kept an eye on the rest of the group, ensuring no one got too rowdy.

Suddenly, his gaze shifted as he noticed movement near the shrine stairs. At first, he couldn’t make out who it was — the person was still too far away. But when a loud, clear “MANJIRO SANO” echoed across the quiet shrine, he knew exactly who it was.

The whole group froze.

Heads turned in unison, eyes wide as they realized it was none other than Mikey’s girlfriend — and she was not happy.

Draken’s eyes flicked to Mikey, who had stopped mid-sentence, his smirk fading into something more cautious. You walked through the crowd of Toman members, your steps deliberate and filled with an icy determination. The guys instinctively parted to make room, stepping aside like a wave in front of you.

“Mikey, what the hell...” Mitsuya, one of the vice-captains, started to speak, but the instant your angry glare landed on him, he went silent. His words died in his throat, and he wisely shut up, not wanting to get between you and whatever had set you off.

Everyone knew who Mikey’s “wife” was — that teasing nickname for you when you and Mikey went official. And normally, you were the sweetest girl anyone could meet. The kind of girl they'd run into on a late-night walk down the city, smiling and saying hello to everyone. But the guys also knew that when you were angry, nobody wanted to be near you. You didn’t need to use your fists to make your point. Your words were sharp enough to cut through anything.

And in that moment, every single one of them could tell that Mikey had messed up big time. Especially when you called him by his full name.

You reached the stairs where Mikey stood, the air around you heavy with the tension that had suddenly gripped the whole shrine. You didn’t shout — you didn’t need to. Your cold gaze alone sent a wave of fear through him. With barely a whisper, you spoke. “Where is my dorayaki that was on my counter this morning?”

The moment you asked, Mikey’s face paled slightly, and his usual confident demeanor cracked, just enough for Draken to notice the shift. He watched as Mikey's eyes darted around, his lips twitching, unsure of how to respond.

“Baby… I don’t… know what you’re talking about,” Mikey said, his voice a little shakier than usual — nothing loud enough for the others to catch, but Draken saw it. Mikey was genuinely scared.

Your gaze never wavered. Your face remained hard, and you took a step closer, your eyes locked on his. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

The silence in the air was thick, and even the usual chatter between the Toman members had died down, everyone sensing that this was no ordinary disagreement. Mikey swallowed hard, his confident smirk gone. “Baby…”

The way you stood there — unmoving, your voice cold, your anger barely contained — made Mikey’s insides twist. The entire shrine had become a pressure cooker, and it felt like you were the only one in control.

He hesitated, then took a step closer, moving down a single stair. His eyes never left yours, but you stood firm, arms crossed tightly in front of your chest. “I’m sorry, baby,” Mikey said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t know those were yours.” He took another step toward you, trying to ease the tension, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a hint of concern.

Big mistake.

Without warning, you lunged forward, grabbing his ear in a swift motion. “How dare you eat my sweets?” you hissed, your grip firm enough to make him wince. “I’d been looking forward to that all day, Manjiro.”

His face contorted in pain, but it was the way you were looking at him — that cold, steely gaze — that made him feel the full force of your anger. He knew he’d messed up, and now he was paying the price.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Mikey groaned, wincing under your tight grip. “I swear, they were making fun of me, telling me I should eat them. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. I’ll never do it again.”

But you weren’t having any of it. The pain in his ear intensified as you squeezed harder. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.”

Finally, with a final, sharp tug, you let go of his ear. It was red, and Mikey winced as he rubbed it, his eyes still apologetic. But before you could even begin to walk away, Mikey quickly grabbed your wrist, holding you in place.

You shot him a glare, making it clear with a look that he needed to think very carefully about what he was doing next. “Let go of me,” you muttered, your voice low but threatening.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Mikey murmured, his voice softening as he pulled you closer, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You closed your eyes at the sensation, your body relaxing just a little bit as your frustration started to melt away. A heavy sigh left your lips as you opened your eyes, staring at him again. “You better make it up to me, or you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Ouch,” Draken heard Chifuyu mutter under his breath, a small laugh following. The tension in the air had slightly lifted, but it was clear Mikey wasn’t off the hook yet.

“I won’t do it again,” Mikey promised, his voice soft and sincere. His grip on your wrist loosened as his hand moved gently to your face. “But please… don’t call me by my first name again. I’m sorry, baby.”

Before you could say anything, Mikey leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips. It was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the anger that had flared moments ago. You kissed him back, your hand moving to the side of his face, your thumb gently caressing his cheek.

“If you ever do this again,” you warned, pulling back slightly but keeping your hand on his face, “I will be your worst nightmare.”

Mikey smirked, his usual cocky confidence returning — just a little bit — as he leaned down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was brief but meaningful, and when you pulled away, you dropped onto the last step of the shrine, sitting down with a sigh.

Mikey removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders with a small, playful smile. “Alright, I’m gonna finish the meeting now. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With that, Mikey turned back to the group, his usual carefree attitude settling back into place, but he kept a soft smile on his face, knowing he’d narrowly escaped a much worse fate.

___________________________________________________________________________

Sanzu Haruchiyo:

The Bonten boardroom was thick with tension — dark suits, whispered strategies, and Mikey’s dead-eyed stare at the head of the table.

Sanzu leaned back in his seat, legs kicked up on the polished wood, twirling a butterfly knife in his fingers like the meeting was background noise. Casual, cocky — typical.

That is, until the doors slammed open with a force that made Koko flinch and Rindou instinctively reach for his gun.

Every head turned.

And there you were.

Hair wind-blown, heels echoing like gunshots, expression locked in one single mood: rage.

You didn’t even glance at the others — your eyes zeroed in on one person only.

"Haruchiyo. Sanzu."

His knife stilled mid-spin.

He blinked. Tilted his head.

“Ohhh?” he drawled, an unstable grin curling onto his lips. “Full name… in front of my coworkers? What’d I do this time, doll?”

You marched right up to him and — crack.

The slap rang out, sharp and echoing. The room went dead silent. Even Mikey raised an eyebrow.

Sanzu didn’t move. Just slowly turned his head back toward you, a red mark blooming on his cheek — and a completely unhinged smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”

That did not help.

“Don’t you dare,” you growled, eyes blazing. “You forgot. You forgot our anniversary, Haruchiyo. You left me sitting alone at a reservation you made, looking like an idiot. You’ve done a lot of reckless shit, but this—this is what I don’t forgive.”

Sanzu opened his mouth to joke again, but one look at your face — how your voice wavered just slightly at the end — and something actually clicked.

He stood slowly, grin slipping into something more serious. His usual cockiness twisted with confusion and guilt.

“I—shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t forget, I just—no. No, I did forget.”

You scoffed, turned on your heel.

“I’m done. Don’t worry — you’ll have time to spin your knife and play gangster without having to think about me ever again.”

You were almost to the door when Mikey spoke — quietly, but with weight.

“Sanzu.”

He froze.

“If you don’t fix this in the next ten minutes, don’t come back to the table.”

Everyone else stayed silent. They knew what that meant.

Sanzu blinked at his boss, then at you. He dragged a hand down his face. Then he was moving — fast.

You didn’t make it to the elevator.

A hand caught your wrist, not rough but firm.

“Wait,” he said, and for once, his voice wasn’t teasing. It was low. Serious. “I messed up. I know I did. You wanna break my nose next? Fine. You want a real apology? Give me tonight. Just tonight. I’ll fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I should walk out.”

“But you haven’t,” he said softly, tugging you closer, his other hand cradling the side of your face — right where your anger had turned his cheek red. “Which means I’ve still got a chance.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned closer.

“Let me take you somewhere. Right now. Fuck the meeting. Mikey already said I’m screwed either way.”

You bit your lip. Still furious. Still hurt.

But his eyes — sharp, wild, pleading — were locked on yours like nothing else in the world mattered.

“…One chance,” you muttered.

“That’s all I need.”

And with that, he dragged you out by the hand — past a stunned Bonten, past Mikey’s amused smirk — ready to blow more money than sense fixing the night he should’ve never forgotten.

___________________________________________________________________________

Kokonoi Hajime:

Your afternoon was peaceful — warm tea, a half-read book, and your favorite playlist humming in the background.

Then your phone buzzed.

One alert. Then two. Then three.

“Transaction approved: ¥1,850,000 – Interior Luxury Aquatics.” “Your Bonten BlackCard was used at ‘KoiWorld Tokyo’.” “Estimated delivery scheduled for this evening.”

You stared at your phone, blinking slowly like it might explain itself.

It did not.

Instead, it showed a picture of a koi pond with custom underwater lighting, soundproof filtration, and a caption that read:

“Perfect centerpiece for a modern bathroom space.”

You stood up so fast your tea nearly spilled.

And you marched straight into the living room, already yelling.

“Hajime Kokonoi!”

He was lounging like royalty — silk pajama pants, socks mismatched (as always), hair perfectly in place even though he’d clearly done nothing all day. The TV was on but muted, and he was scrolling through his tablet like a man deep in international finance — or TikTok, it was hard to tell with him.

At the sound of his full name, he froze.

Then looked up, slow and cautious. “...Was it something I bought? Or something I said while half-asleep? Be honest. I need context before I defend myself.”

You held up your phone like a prosecutor presenting evidence. “A koi pond, Hajime?”

He tilted his head. “Ah. The koi pond.”

“Oh, there are others?”

“No. Not yet. But imagine the possibilities.”

You gave him a look that could set fire to expensive wallpaper. “In the guest bathroom?”

“Listen, listen, I thought it through. It’s the smallest bathroom, right? So guests don’t spend too long in there scrolling through TikTok. But if you give them a calming aquatic feature to look at while they—”

“—you’re describing bathroom fish therapy right now.”

“Exactly! You get it!” He beamed like he’d invented sliced bread. “It’s innovation, babe.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We agreed — no more extravagant impulse buys without telling each other. You promised after the rotating crystal gin shelf.”

“But that one was sick. Admit it.”

“It plays Beyoncé when it opens.”

“Luxury,” he said, dead serious.

You paced the room, already imagining poor houseguests slipping on wet tiles while koi fish stared them down in judgment. “This isn’t about fish, Hajime. This is about you not listening. Again. You can’t fix a boring bathroom by throwing seven fish in it and hoping for ambiance.”

He rose from the couch, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I hear you. Maybe it was a little… extra.”

“A little?”

“They gave me a discount if I named one of the koi after myself.”

You stared. “You’re putting a fish in a bathroom and naming it Hajime?”

“Well, I was... but I’ll rename him if it’ll help my case. What about... ‘I’m sorry’?”

You were trying so hard not to laugh, and he knew it. He stepped closer, slipping his arms around your waist as your resolve crumbled slightly.

“Babe,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against your temple, “I’ll cancel the installation if it really bothers you. Or I’ll move it to the terrace. Or build the koi a private spa in the guest bedroom. Whatever you want.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“But I’m cute,” he added with a wink.

You sighed. “If I ever see you spending seven figures on fish again, I’m calling you Hajime in front of Mikey. In front of everyone.”

He gasped. “That’s cold.”

“Even colder than koi water.”

“Okay, now that was hot. Use that in bed later.”

You smacked his arm, but you were laughing now. And he was grinning like a man who knew exactly how to get away with murder (and koi ponds).

___________________________________________________________________________

Mitsuya Takashi:

It was a quiet evening in the Mitsuya household. The living room was glowing warm with fairy lights, soft music hummed from the record player, and the faint scent of freshly brewed tea drifted from the kitchen.

You were sitting on the couch, waiting.

Waiting… and waiting.

The lasagna you had lovingly made was slowly getting cold, the table set with care — candles, folded napkins, even that dumb little place card he always laughed about that said “Takashi ”.

But he was late.

Not just ten-minutes-late.

We’re talking an hour and twenty-seven minutes late, and he hadn’t even texted.

You were just about to wrap the food up in cling wrap out of pure spite when the front door clicked open.

You didn’t even look up when you heard the soft, familiar thud of his boots being kicked off.

“Baaabe, I’m home—”

“Takashi Mitsuya.”

The way you said it — calm, measured, yet dangerously poised — made him freeze in the doorway, jacket half-off one arm.

He blinked. “...Oh. Wow. The full name.”

You finally turned around.

He looked guilty as hell.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Forgot?”

You crossed your arms.

Mitsuya walked slowly into the room, holding up both hands like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. “Okay, in my defense—”

“You promised,” you said, voice soft but stern. “You literally promised you'd be home on time. And I didn’t even burn the lasagna this time.”

He winced. “I know. I know. Toman meeting ran late, then I got caught up helping Hakkai fix a shirt for his date, and then I couldn’t find my phone in all the fabric and—yeah, okay, I’m gonna stop talking.”

You stared for a moment longer before turning away, muttering, “It’s fine. I should’ve expected it. You’re the one who’s always taking care of everyone.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then:

“...Is this the part where you scold me more? Or kiss me?”

You blinked, turning slowly.

Mitsuya was grinning now — boyish and warm, clearly testing the waters, but sincere under it all. “Because you only ever call me Takashi Mitsuya when it’s one of those.”

You tried not to smile. Tried.

“Depends. Do you think you deserve a kiss right now?”

He walked right up to you, slipping his arms around your waist and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I deserve a chance to earn one,” he said softly.

You exhaled a little laugh, eyes half-lidded. “You always say the right thing.”

“I sew for a living, baby. I know how to thread things carefully.”

“Gross.”

“You love it.”

You did. So much it hurt sometimes.

You leaned up and kissed him — just once — before whispering near his ear, “You’re heating up that lasagna yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh — and dishes too.”

He groaned dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “You really know how to punish a man.”

“You forgot our dinner date. I’m letting you off easy.”

“I know. And I’m grateful.” He paused, pulling back with a soft smile. “But don’t stop calling me by my full name. It sounds really hot when you’re mad.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away — but not before tossing back a teasing, “Takashi Mitsuya, you’re impossible.”

His grin was full of love.

And this time, he didn't miss dinner.

__________________________________________________________________________

Chifuyu Matsuno:

You had left the apartment for thirty minutes.

Just thirty.

Enough time to grab your package from the post office, pick up snacks, and come back to what was supposed to be a chill movie night.

What you came back to instead... was chaos.

There was flour. Everywhere.

The cat — who looked like it had fought in the Great Pastry War — bolted past you with a string of dough wrapped around its leg. The TV was paused on a baking tutorial. The counters were stacked with bowls, some with batter, one suspiciously empty, and—

Oh no.

“CHIFUYU MATSUNO.”

A loud bang echoed from the kitchen.

You stormed in, and there he was: wide-eyed, mid-mixer, flour smudged on his cheek, apron crooked, and a cake that had clearly imploded in the oven behind him.

He blinked. “Okay, so—”

“Don’t you ‘okay, so’ me.”

“Before you get mad—”

“I left you alone for half an hour. I asked you to boil pasta. Not—what is this? A Great British Bake-Off rejection arc?”

He pointed to the collapsed cake like it betrayed him personally. “That was supposed to be a surprise! I was trying to make that caramel lava thing you said looked good—”

“By summoning Satan into the batter?”

He scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “...It did make a weird noise.”

You stared, exasperated beyond words. “And the cat?”

“Okay, the cat part wasn’t me. Technically. I dropped the cream. She jumped in.”

“Chifuyu, she looks like a haunted marshmallow.”

He stepped forward, laughing nervously, reaching out to brush flour off your jacket like that would somehow make up for it. “But babe... I did it for you.”

“You did arson in my kitchen for me?”

“Not arson! It’s creative expression!”

“You lit an oven mitt on fire!”

“Small fire. Controlled. Kinda.” His eyes sparkled with that grin that made you weak in the knees and homicidal at the same time. “But I mean... you’re not that mad, right?”

You raised your brows.

He smirked. “Because you called me Chifuyu Matsuno. Which you only do when you’re two seconds from either throwing me out the window or kissing me.”

“Guess which one I’m leaning toward.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick floury kiss to your cheek. “Kiss, obviously. You can’t resist me when I’m covered in catastrophe.”

You sighed, letting your forehead rest against his. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know. Now help me clean this up and I’ll order your favorite ramen. Double miso, no mushrooms.”

“Fine. But you’re on cat-cleanup duty.”

Chifuyu looked over at the flour-coated feline, now trying to eat a whisk.

“...I deserve that.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Kazutora Hanemiya:

You hadn’t meant to yell.

You hadn’t even meant to cry.

But when Kazutora walked in that night — shoulders slumped, knuckles red, hoodie pulled low to hide the bruising on his jaw — something inside you snapped.

He hadn’t answered your calls. Not one.

Hours of silence.

And then he just showed up, like he hadn’t disappeared again. Like he didn’t know what that kind of silence did to someone who loved him.

You stood there in the dim light of the apartment, arms crossed tightly, trying to hold yourself together as the door clicked shut behind him.

And then it happened.

“Kazutora Hanemiya.”

He flinched. Visibly.

The sound of his full name — sharp, deliberate, and full of everything you were holding back — cut through the room like a knife.

He didn’t look up at first. Didn’t meet your eyes.

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. I thought—” You swallowed hard. “I thought something happened.”

He dropped his bag wordlessly by the door.

“I told you,” you said, quieter now, voice thick, “I told you the last time — I can’t go through that kind of fear again. Not from you. Not when I—”

He finally looked up.

And god, his eyes were tired.

Not physically — but in that way Kazutora always got when his mind spiraled too fast for him to grab onto anything stable. That distant, fragile expression that said I don't know how to stay, even when I want to.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he murmured. “I lost control again. And I just... I didn’t want to ruin the one good thing I have.”

You blinked away tears. “So your solution was to disappear? Do you know what that does to me?”

He took a shaky step forward, hands half-raised like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

“I’m not used to someone worrying about me,” he said, broken-soft. “Not like you do.”

You finally let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in your chest for hours. “Then get used to it, Kazutora. Because I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to stop running like I’m going to disappear the second you mess up.”

He stared at you like you were the only solid thing in a world that always shifted beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just... I get scared.”

You stepped toward him, gently placing your hand on his bruised cheek. “So do I. Every time you shut down like this.”

“I’ll try,” he breathed. “For you.”

You nodded, eyes softening. “And stop flinching when I say your full name. I only do it when I need you to listen.”

“I hear you,” he said, eyes closing as he leaned into your palm. “I hear you now.”

And in that quiet room, he finally let himself fall — not into chaos, not into guilt — but into you.

And for once, he didn’t run.

_________________________________________________________________________

Ran Haitani:

The night had started out like any other, with Ran’s usual charm and swagger as he wrapped you in his arms and promised to make it home on time. He even kissed you goodbye with that mischievous grin that made your heart race.

But now, here you were — standing alone in the dimly lit apartment, the cool silence pressing down on you as the hours ticked by.

Your patience had worn thin.

You had trusted him, even though you knew how unpredictable things could get when his brother, Rindou, was involved. You trusted that he would be there when he said he would.

But as the clock struck midnight, that familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach — the feeling that Ran wasn’t coming home.

Not again.

You were done being patient. Done waiting for a man who promised the world and never quite delivered. And so, with a heavy sigh, you grabbed your coat and stormed out the door.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you needed answers.

When you arrived at the underground club, where you knew Ran usually wound up after a Toman meeting, the last thing you expected to see was him sitting in a corner booth — alone. His head was tilted back, staring up at the ceiling as if the world didn’t matter.

Your heart skipped a beat, and every step toward him felt like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You were angry. You were hurt. But mostly, you were tired.

As soon as you reached the booth, Ran’s eyes flicked toward you, and for a brief moment, you could see the shock on his face. His perfect smile faltered.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, and there was something about the way he said your name — like it was the first time he was seeing you in forever. But you didn’t want to hear his soft tone anymore.

“Ran Haitani,” you said, your voice cutting through the thick air like a blade. The use of his full name — not the teasing “Ran” or the quiet “baby” you usually called him — hit him harder than any punch.

His brows furrowed, and he stood up slowly. “Babe... what’s wrong?”

You glared at him, taking a step closer, voice shaking with both fury and raw emotion. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Ran? You’re what’s wrong.”

He recoiled slightly, as if the force of your words physically struck him.

“I don’t know why I keep letting you hurt me,” you continued, your voice rising in volume. “You make promises, and then you break them. You show up late, and when you finally do, you expect me to just forget that you were never here. You expect me to wait around like everything is fine.”

Ran’s eyes softened, and he reached out to you, but you pulled back before he could touch you. His hand froze in mid-air, a silent apology hanging between you.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a near-whisper, but there was still so much fire in it. “You think you’re the only one with a past full of mistakes, don’t you? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be scared of falling — to be scared that I’m not enough, or that you’ll just leave like everyone else?”

He closed the space between you, finally taking your hands in his with an urgency that made your heart skip. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you. But I do.”

His confession was raw, too much to take in at once, and for a moment, you couldn’t even breathe.

“I try. I really do. But when I get caught up in all the shit — with Rindou, with Toman... with everything I’ve built around myself — I forget what matters most. You. You matter the most.”

You didn’t know if you should believe him. You didn’t know if you could let him back in without getting hurt again.

“Don’t shut me out, Y/N,” Ran whispered, voice hoarse, hands tightening around yours. “Not again. I can’t lose you.”

The tension in the room thickened, but then Ran did something you didn’t expect. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His breath was warm against your neck, his heart pounding against your chest.

“Please... don’t leave me.” His voice cracked, and you felt it deep in your soul.

You didn’t push him away. You didn’t pull back.

Because despite everything, you didn’t want to lose him either.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound between you the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, his arms keeping you close as if you might slip away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

And then, with his forehead resting against yours, he murmured softly, “I know I messed up. But I swear, Y/N, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m yours.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling the breath you’d been holding. “You better. Because I won’t be here forever if you keep doing this to me.”

Ran’s lips gently pressed to your forehead, his voice full of sincerity. “I know. And I won’t give you a reason to walk away again. I’ll make it right, I promise.”

And in that moment, with all the weight of his past and yours hanging in the air, you allowed yourself to believe him.

___________________________________________________________________________

Rindou Haitani:

It was supposed to be a calm, easy evening. You and Rindou had been planning a low-key night, just the two of you. No Bonten meetings. No wild distractions. Just takeout and a movie.

But as usual, things never went according to plan when Rindou was involved.

The door slammed open. There he was — looking like a mess.

You had barely taken a bite of your food before your phone buzzed with an unknown number.

“Where are you?” it read. “Don't wait up for me.”

That was it.

You hadn’t seen him for hours, and now he was texting you this?

By the time he came back home, you were already on edge. You had done your best to keep cool, but when Rindou walked in with a smug grin on his face, late as usual, you had had enough.

You didn’t even look up from the couch. You were too busy staring at your phone, pretending you weren’t fuming.

“What, no welcome home kiss?” Rindou teased, swaggering into the living room. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and cracked his neck. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

And that was when it happened.

“Rindou Haitani.”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and you instantly saw the flicker of shock in his eyes. He froze, his playful smirk faltering as he processed your tone.

He blinked. “Full name now? Damn, I really messed up this time, huh?”

You stood up, your body trembling with barely contained anger. “You disappear for hours, and when you finally show up, you think you can just—” You threw your hands up in the air. “You think you can just act like it’s nothing? Like I’m just supposed to keep waiting around while you do whatever the hell you want?”

Rindou chuckled nervously, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze now. “Hey, come on, don’t be like that. I was busy, okay? Things came up.”

“Busy?” You scoffed, taking a step closer to him. “You’re always busy, Rindou. With meetings, with Bonten, with whatever the hell else you’re involved in! You never have time for me anymore.”

The grin on his face faltered for a second, but it was quickly replaced by an almost defiant look. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to treat me like I’m nothing when I’ve been nothing but patient with you. I’m tired of being the afterthought, Rindou.”

And that was when it clicked for him. The words you had said, the weight in your voice — it was real.

But instead of apologizing, instead of stepping back, Rindou did something that took you completely off guard.

He reached out and yanked you toward him, pinning you against his chest. The surprise left your lips, but you didn’t have time to react before he kissed you.

It was a kiss full of desperation — lips crashing into yours as if he was trying to prove something. His hands were urgent, tugging at your shirt like he couldn’t quite get close enough.

You pushed against his chest, trying to break free, but the more you struggled, the tighter he held you. “Rindou, get off me—”

“No,” he muttered, his voice low, his grip on your waist firm. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

And it hit you like a wave. He wasn’t doing this out of arrogance — he was doing it because he didn’t know any other way to fix things.

Finally, you stopped fighting. The anger drained from your body, replaced with something softer — but still, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. “You can’t keep doing this, Rindou. You can’t just waltz in here and think everything’s fine.”

He rested his forehead against yours, his fingers lightly brushing through your hair. “I know. I know. I’m an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just a ‘sorry’? After everything?”

He smirked. “Well, it’s a start.”

A small laugh escaped you despite yourself. “You really are something else.”

But before you could fully process the situation, he had you pinned again, this time with a playful grin.

“You really know how to make a guy work for it,” Rindou teased, his voice now back to its usual teasing tone.

You sighed, shaking your head, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he leaned in, kissing your forehead lightly, “you’re still not getting rid of me.”

“Damn right,” you muttered, “But don’t think this is over. You’re going to have to earn back my trust.”

Rindou’s eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint, but underneath it, you could see the sincerity — for once, he wasn’t just playing games. He was all in, even if he was chaotic about it.

“Fine,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’ll make sure to do it in the most dramatic way possible.”

“Of course you will.”

And despite everything — the mess, the chaos, the late nights — you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real between you two. Even if it was a little messy.

_________________________________________________________________________

Izana Kurokawa:

You were fuming. It wasn't anything big, but it was the little things that piled up, and today, Izana had done one too many. He’d left his dirty clothes everywhere, again. His shoes were in the living room, and the smell of his cologne still lingered in the hallway like he thought he was some sort of royalty. You had tried to be patient, but something snapped when you saw his jacket just thrown over the back of the couch, taking up space where you wanted to sit.

"Izana Kurokawa!" you exclaimed, hands on your hips as you marched into the living room.

Izana was lounging on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing. He didn’t even glance up when you said his full name—just continued scrolling on his phone with his signature lazy grin.

You crossed your arms tighter, glaring at him. "Do you have to leave your stuff everywhere? How many times do I have to tell you?"

He finally looked up, unfazed. “Mmm… I think you’ve told me about three times already,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “But you know, I just can’t help it. I like to make myself comfortable.”

That was the moment it became clear to you that he was teasing you. Your irritation deepened. “Comfortable? I swear, you think everything should revolve around you!”

You could feel yourself getting worked up, but instead of saying anything else, you turned your back and started picking up his things, throwing them in his direction.

Izana sat up, suddenly intrigued. His eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you continue your mini-rampage. “You look cute when you're angry, you know that?”

That did it. You whirled around to face him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Izana Kurokawa, you better—”

But before you could finish, Izana was up in a flash, crossing the space between you in an instant. With a grin that could melt anyone's heart, he cupped your face gently, pulling you in for a kiss.

It was slow at first, a quiet moment that silenced your angry thoughts, his lips warm against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tension in your body melted away, and for a second, all you could feel was his touch.

You pulled away slightly, breathing a little heavier, and without thinking, you snapped, “You can’t just kiss your way out of everything, you know.”

Izana ignored you completely, smiling wider as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you back in for another kiss, this one deeper, making you forget the very reason you were mad in the first place.

When he pulled away, you were slightly breathless, your frustration evaporating into a faint smile despite yourself.

He leaned his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with that familiar playful glint. “I can and will kiss my way out of anything,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But hey, I’ll pick up my stuff, okay? No need to get so worked up over my shoes.”

You blinked at him, trying to hold onto your frustration, but it was like trying to keep sand in your hands. “Izana...”

He kissed you once more, interrupting your half-hearted protest. “Shh, it’s fine, babe. Don’t worry about it. I’ll even go get your favorite snack later, just to make up for it.”

You sighed, trying not to smile as you pushed against his chest, though there was no real strength behind it. “You really know how to get out of trouble, don’t you?”

Izana grinned and gave you another quick kiss on the lips, his hand resting on the small of your back. “What can I say? It’s a gift. Now… let’s go get those snacks I promised. You’ll forget all about my shoes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. As much as you tried to stay annoyed, Izana had that effect on you. He knew how to turn even the most frustrating moments into something playful and lighthearted.

[istanstraykidss]

let love bleed red | geum seongje

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

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 fuckers."

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 mad dog. 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.

[istanstraykidss]

let love bleed red | geum seongje

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

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 fuckers."

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 mad dog. 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.

[istanstraykidss]

I'll try to not make it too long. A seongje story with this really quiet reader, sticks to herself, doesn't look happy. She loves romance novels and knows what love is meant to be like, but she herself has never experienced love or had anyone care for her.

Seongje could meet her someplace where she gives him bandaids and cream to take care of his bloody knuckles and starts to notice her after that moment. Realises they go to the same school, he sees how quiet she is and notices things about her. He could find out she's being bullied badly, and he helps her and talks to her, slowly falling for her. And some time later, he could find out she's also treated very bad at home after she bursts out in tears, just crying. I have the idea, I just can't write it into a story. I read your other Seongje stories and loved them, so I wanted to know if you cab write this story.

+ SOFT SPOTS

in which seong-je meets a quiet girl who helps him out of nowhere and ends up falling for the love he never saw coming.

Geum Seong-je x reader

fluff

The alleyways were always filled with groans of pain. Someone getting jumped. Someone picking a fight. Sometimes both.

Seong-je didn’t care unless it was fun.

And tonight was one of those nights—a senior had mouthed off, thinking he could take him. He couldn’t.

Now Seong-je leaned against the back wall of the convenience store, panting lightly, blood dripping from split knuckles. The fight had been fast, pointless, unsatisfying. His fingers ached, his jaw ticked.

He flexed his hand. Blood smeared across his skin like ink on a page.

Then— A sound. Plastic rustling.

He looked up, ready to snap—and froze.

You stood there.

Still. Small. Like a ghost who hadn’t decided whether it wanted to be seen.

You held out a plastic bag. Bandaids. Antiseptic. Gauze.

“…What?”

Your eyes met his for a second, then dropped. You didn’t speak.

“You lost or something?”

A tiny shake of your head.

“Then what the hell is this?”

Still no answer. Just a faint tilt of your chin, the bag pushed closer.

He snatched it, half-annoyed. “I didn’t ask for help.”

You shrugged like it wasn’t about that.

Then turned and walked away.

Didn’t wait for thanks. Didn’t even glance back.

Just… disappeared.

And Seong-je stood there with blood on his fists and something unfamiliar in his chest, staring at a bag full of kindness he didn’t understand.

---

He saw you again two days later.

Back row. Window seat. A book shielding half your face.

You were in his class. He hadn’t noticed.

But he started noticing everything after that.

No one talked to you. No one sat near you. Teachers barely called your name. You moved like air—quiet, invisible, tired.

But always with a book.

Romance novels. Torn edges. Dog-eared pages. Like they’d been read again and again until the characters felt more real than anything else.

Sometimes, your lips parted softly as you read. Like you were sighing without breath.

And Seong-je—who hated softness—couldn’t stop looking.

He didn’t talk to you at school.

He wanted to.

But he didn’t know how to speak to someone who didn’t play games or flirt or fight back.

You weren’t shy. You were distant. Like you’d already stopped expecting anyone to listen.

Until he saw it.

---

Your locker. Open.

Three girls stood around you, laughing too loud.

One held your bag.

Another dangled your book just out of reach.

The third leaned in and whispered something cruel.

You didn’t cry. Didn’t flinch.

Just stood there, small and still, like if you pretended hard enough, maybe they’d go away.

“That's not very romantic,” Seong-je said, stepping forward with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

The girls froze.

One of them turned, paling. “We—we weren’t—”

“Drop it.”

She obeyed immediately.

Your bag hit the ground. Your book followed. The girls fled. You didn’t thank him.

Just knelt down and picked up your things with trembling fingers.

He stared. “You’re seriously just gonna let that happen?”

You shrugged. “It’s not worth it.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

That made you pause.

You looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time.

“I’m tired,” you said simply. Then you walked away.

---

After that, he started sitting next to you. You didn’t protest. You didn’t speak much either.

But sometimes he caught your eyes flicking toward him, like you couldn’t figure out why he was there.

He didn’t know either.

Only that when he didn’t see you, he was restless. Angry. Unsettled.

And when he did, he wanted to protect you from everything.

Especially yourself.

---

Over the weeks, you started speaking. Soft words.

“Thanks,” when he lent you a pen.

“It’s cold today,” with your chin on the desk.

Once, you passed him another bandaid after gym. No blood this time. Just… in case.

He kept it in his wallet.

Didn’t know why.

---

Then one day, you didn’t show up. He told himself he didn’t care. But by lunch, his leg wouldn’t stop bouncing.

By the final bell, he was pissed.

And by nightfall, he was back at the alley behind the convenience store—hoping.

And then—

There you were.

Curled up against the wall like trash someone forgot to throw away. Your arms hugged your knees. Your shoulders trembled.

Your lip was bleeding. Seong-je’s heart dropped like a stone. “What the hell happened?”

You flinched at his voice.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered. He moved toward you, crouched low. “Someone at school?”

You shook your head.

“Home,” you choked out.

One word.

But it said everything. His fists clenched. “Did they hit you?”

Silence.

He didn’t need an answer. His jaw tightened until it ached. “You should’ve told me.” You buried your face into your knees. “I didn’t think you’d care,” you said.

That hit harder than any punch he’d ever taken.

He exhaled shakily.

Then reached out, gently tugging you into his chest.

You resisted—for one second—before breaking apart.

You sobbed against him. Raw. Gutting. Like your whole soul was splitting in two. He held you tighter. Didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just let you cry.

His hoodie soaked slowly with your tears.

And for the first time in years, Seong-je didn’t feel angry when someone made him bleed.

He just felt hollow.

Your sobs had quieted, but your fingers still clung to the fabric of his hoodie like you were afraid letting go would mean falling back into everything.

Seong-je glanced down. You weren’t crying anymore, but your eyes were red and unfocused. A tear slid down your cheek anyway, too late to be part of the storm. Just debris.

He brushed it away with his thumb.

“Come on.”

You blinked. “What?”

“We’re not staying here.”

You hesitated, still curled in on yourself. “I can’t go back.”

“I didn’t say you were going back.”

You looked up at him then, confused. Fragile.

He stood, held out a hand. “You’re coming with me.”

“…Where?”

“My place.”

You didn’t move for a long second.

Then, slowly, you placed your hand in his.

His grip was firm but warm. No space for doubt.

---

The walk to his apartment was silent. Not awkward. Not cold. Just the kind of silence that came after you’d cried too hard to speak.

He kept you on the inside of the sidewalk, glancing at every passing car like he might rip off someone’s door if they looked at you wrong.

You kept your head low. Huddled into your sleeves.

At one point, he draped his jacket over your shoulders without a word.

It was too big.

It smelled like smoke, soap, and him.

---

His place was small.

Studio apartment. Dim light. Unmade bed in the corner, a punching bag by the door, and walls that hadn’t seen a decoration in years.

You stepped inside and stopped. He watched you take it all in. “Not much,” he said gruffly. “Didn’t plan on having guests.”

You shook your head. “It’s… nice.” It wasn’t. But you meant it.

He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and tossed it to you. “Wipe your face. You look like you lost a fight.”

You gave a tired laugh.

“Would’ve been nice if I had a chance to throw a punch,” you muttered.

Seong-je paused. Then slowly, a smirk curved on his lips. “There she is.”

---

You sat on the bed while he rummaged in the kitchen. Instant ramen. Two bowls. Nothing fancy.

He handed you one and watched you eat like it was the first real thing you’d had in days.

Halfway through, your shoulders relaxed. The tension in your jaw eased. And when you looked at him, something fragile and soft flickered in your gaze.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you said suddenly.

He looked up sharply. “You’re not.”

You played with the edge of the bowl. “Then why are you doing this?”

He leaned back, tossing his empty bowl onto the counter.

“Because when I was bleeding out behind that convenience store, you didn’t ask questions. You didn’t look scared. You just gave me a damn bandaid.”

Your lips parted slightly.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“And now I see you. Every day. Sitting alone like you don’t expect anything better. Like you’ve already given up. That pisses me off.”

Your breath hitched.

“I want to protect you,” he said, voice quieter now. “Even if you don’t think you’re worth protecting.”

Silence.

Then you whispered, “You scare me sometimes.”

“I should.”

“But you make me feel safe too.”

“…Good.”

You stared at him for a long time.

Then, without warning, you leaned in and rested your head on his shoulder.

He froze.

Then slowly, cautiously, he wrapped an arm around you.

“You can stay here,” he said.

Your voice was small. “Just tonight?”

“…As long as you want.”

You didn’t answer.

But your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt again.

And this time, you didn’t cry.

---

After that, things changed. You were still quiet. Still small. But now, you weren’t alone.

He sat with you at breaks. Walked with you after school. Sometimes, you read to him—your voice barely a whisper, lips moving gently, almost like a prayer.

He’d pretend not to stare. You’d pretend not to notice. But once, you flushed so hard you dropped your book.

He laughed. Picked it up. Ruffled your hair. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teased.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re annoying.”

He grinned. “There she is.”

One afternoon, behind the school, you asked quietly:

“Why do you fight so much?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re always bleeding. Doesn’t it get tiring?”

He stared into the distance. “…It’s the only thing I’m good at.” You nodded, like that made sense. Because it did.

You both were good at surviving things no one should have to.

After a moment, you said, “I used to think love would fix everything.”

He turned.

You were staring at the sky. Your expression unreadable. “I read so many stories about it. About someone who sees you. Who stays. But… in real life, no one ever sees me.”

He reached over.

Your hand was cold. But you didn’t pull away. “I see you,” he said.

You looked at him.

Really looked.

---

He kissed you that night.

Slow. Careful.

Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

Your breath caught, lips trembling.

“I don’t know how to be loved,” you whispered. “I don’t know how to be soft,” he admitted.

You kissed him anyway.

And this time, your hands didn’t shake.

After that, you were still quiet.

Still bruised in places no one could see.

But Seong-je saw you.

And for a boy made of violence and a girl made of silence— That was enough.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

Gosh! I can't explain how happy I am that I wrote this lmao 😭, hope you enjoyed it!! Loved the request!!

[istanstraykidss]

I loveee your geom seongje fics so much!!! What about reader who hates smoking because either she doesn’t like it orr has breathing problems (you pickk) and seongje has an unspoken rule in the union that if someone smokes within 6ft of reader they’ll get…beaten up 🤗🤗

-🦕

+ SIX FEET OF SMOKE AND SILENCE

in which seong-je makes a rule in union to not smoke within six feet of his girlfriend, only for him to not follow it.

Geum Seong-je x reader

slight angst, fluff

Everyone in the Union knew one rule without needing it posted on a wall or barked across the courtyard:

No one smoked within six feet of Seong-je’s girlfriend.

There was no memo. No warning. But the message spread fast after one poor bastard lit up too close to her during lunch break behind the gym. He hadn’t even finished his first puff before he was on the floor, coughing blood and gasping through a broken nose. Seong-je didn’t say a word after. He just stepped over the guy, lit his own cigarette, and leaned back against the wall like nothing happened.

Since then, the six-foot rule was sacred.

She hated smoking. The smell. The burn. The heavy feeling it left in the air. It clung to her skin when she walked through the old wing where delinquents spent their time. And Seong-je—for all his stubborn chaos—smoked like it kept his pulse steady.

She didn’t ask him to quit. That wasn’t her way. But he knew how she felt. She never looked away from the truth, and when she wrinkled her nose or shifted just slightly away, he knew.

Today, the courtyard was empty, save for them.

She’d been looking for him, half-pissed, half-worried, when she found him under the awning behind the old practice rooms. A familiar white stick between his fingers, the faint hiss of fire at the tip.

He was already mid-drag when he looked up and froze.

Their eyes locked.

She didn’t speak. Just walked forward. Each step deliberate.

And Seong-je, for once, didn’t smirk.

The cigarette dangled loosely from his fingers, smoke curling lazily up like it wasn’t in trouble.

She stopped three feet from him.

He exhaled slowly. "I thought you were in the main hall."

She crossed her arms. "Didn’t realize that changed your personal radius."

He stared at her for a beat. Then, with a quiet breath, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and ground it beneath his boot. No dramatic sigh, no annoyed glare. Just a muted act of surrender.

She blinked. That…was new.

"You mad?" he asked, watching her expression closely.

She tilted her head. "You made a whole rule for me, Seong-je. But you can't follow it yourself?"

"That rule’s for everyone else," he replied, deadpan. "I make exceptions for myself."

She narrowed her eyes.

He hesitated.

Then his voice softened. "But I wasn’t thinking. That’s on me."

Silence stretched.

It wasn’t just about the cigarette. Not really. It was about the things that built up over time. How he always took care of her in his own violent, twisted way. How he respected her space, protected her name, and never let the world touch her with dirtied hands.

But still smoked like it didn’t matter.

"Why do you need it so badly?" she asked, arms still folded, but her voice quieter now.

His lips parted. He looked away, tongue running along his inner cheek.

"It shuts things up in my head," he said eventually. "Gives me something to do with my hands when I’m not picking fights."

A beat passed.

"You always seem calmer when I'm around."

He looked back at her.

"I am."

The silence grew thicker. Tension slipped in between them like static.

She stepped closer. Two feet now.

He didn’t move.

"Then maybe you don’t need it," she murmured.

His breath caught. Not from the words. From how close she was now. How she tilted her chin up, how the wind caught strands of her hair and lifted them between them like whispers.

"Maybe," he said, voice low. "But habits die hard."

Her eyes flicked down to his fingers—still twitching slightly, like they missed the cigarette already.

Then she did something that made him pause.

She reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack herself.

Seong-je blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Testing a theory."

She pulled one cigarette out, then held it up between her fingers like she’d seen him do a hundred times.

"You hate smoking," he said, stepping closer. Just inches now.

"I do."

"Then why?"

"Because maybe if you see me do it, you’ll stop."

He stared at her. Hard.

She was bluffing. He knew it. But then—

She raised the cigarette to her lips.

His hand shot out.

But instead of pulling it away, he held it for her. Between his fingers. Just like he always did.

"This is how you hold it," he murmured. His voice dropped, the space between them now non-existent.

His girlfriend didn’t move.

He brought the cigarette to her lips. She looked at him, stubborn but nervous. The kind of nervous she never let anyone see.

He lit it.

"Now inhale—slow. Then let it sit for a second. Then breathe it out."

She tried.

And immediately coughed, turning away, shoulders shaking.

He chuckled, low and smug. "Yeah, that tracks."

She glared at him with watery eyes. "Asshole."

"You tried to play cool. That’s on you."

She shoved him, but it was half-hearted. He caught her wrist.

"You hate it, don’t you?"

She didn’t answer.

His fingers curled around hers gently. "Don’t do that again."

"Then stop making me worry."

They stared at each other.

And something cracked open.

He raised her hand still holding the cigarette. Took it back between his fingers. Then brought it to his own lips.

Smoked.

Exhaled away from her.

Then tossed it aside.

He leaned in, close enough that she could smell the smoke clinging to him and feel the heat of his breath.

"I’ll quit."

She blinked.

"But only if you keep looking at me like that."

She shoved him again. He caught her around the waist this time.

Pulled her close.

"You really want me to stop?"

She nodded. Small. Honest.

He lowered his head, lips brushing her ear. "Then kiss me. And mean it."

Her breath hitched. She hesitated.

Then she kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t perfect. But it was raw, honest, and more addicting than any nicotine high he’d ever chased.

When they broke apart, her forehead pressed to his, he smiled. Not the usual arrogant smirk. Something quieter.

"Guess I found a better habit."

And for once, the air between them was clean.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

I hope you enjoyed <33 I love how everyone's making requests!! Also in case anyone's wondering how I am so quick at doing the request 😭 The exam gaps are the best motivation to do anything other than studying lmao.

[istanstraykidss]

Discover your secrets

Geum Seong-Je x reader

in which seong-je happens to discover secrets about his school's student council president, who happens to have a spotless personality.

secret 1 :- tear on a pretty face

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 final

word count - 2.6k

Geum Seong-je practically ruled Kanghak High. He was known for picking fights and pushing people around just because he could. Most students knew better than to get in his way. And ever since he joined the Union, that fear only grew.

But not everyone at Kanghak High was afraid.

Y/N, the student council president, stood apart. Smart, composed, and unshakably confident, Y/N didn’t flinch when Seong-je walked by. She didn’t whisper behind his back—she called him out, directly and publicly. Where others backed down, she pushed back.

It wasn’t just defiance—it was personal. The tension between them was sharp and obvious. Every hallway encounter felt like a standoff. Neither had made a move yet, but the whole school could feel it coming.

Something was going to break.

"It's high time you started moving out of the way." One of Seong-je's minions spoke up. "A few times were ok, but now it's getting on my nerves." He gritted his teeth and stepped forward to face off against Y/N.

But her side wasn't going to stay quiet either. The other council members stepped forward, and while both the groups shouted at each other, Seong-je and Y/N kept their eyes on the other.

None of the other students in the background, who were standing in the hallway dared to step in and stop the fight, neither did the teachers. Because even they knew better than getting involved with the union.

"Stop." That was the only word that came out of Seong-je's and everyone on his side stopped right where they were.

A cocky smirk spread across his face, as he puffed out the cigarette and walked past Y/N, with his minions following right behind him.

"Y/N, don't you think we should do something about him? The school doesn't feel like a school because of him." One of the council members said but didn’t gain a reply from the president. Her eyes just followed Seong-je’s back as he walked away, that same smirk still painted across his face like he’d already won.

Her fingers curled into a fist by her side, nails digging into her palm. She hated that look—the arrogance, the confidence, like he owned every hallway he walked through.

“We will,” she said finally, voice low but firm. “Just not on his terms.”

The council exchanged glances. They’d seen Y/N stand her ground before, but something about today felt different. The stare-down hadn’t ended with a fight, but it hadn’t ended at all. It lingered, like a match held just above the flame.

And Seong-je—he knew it too.

Later that day, word spread fast. About the standoff. About how Seong-je had spoken a single word and everyone froze. About how Y/N didn’t blink, didn’t move, didn’t even flinch when he passed her.

Rumors turned to whispers. Whispers turned to anticipation.

Because now it wasn’t just a matter of who was in charge. It was Y/N versus Seong-je.

And everyone was watching, waiting to see who would make the next move.

---

The next day, the classroom was quiet, sunlight spilling in through half-drawn blinds as students mindlessly flipped through pages or stared at the board. It was just another ordinary period—until the door slid open with a loud clack.

Heads turned.

One of Seong-je’s guys stepped in, tall and broad, with that same cocky confidence they all wore like a badge. He didn’t ask for permission. He didn’t need to.

“You. Park Jihoon,” he said, pointing at a boy sitting near the back. “Seong-je wants to see you. Now.”

Jihoon froze, color draining from his face. He didn’t move.

“What, you didn’t hear me?” the guy stepped in fully, hands shoved in his pockets, his voice rising. “You gonna make me drag you?”

“No,” Jihoon said, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not going.”

There was a tense beat of silence before the guy scoffed and started walking toward him, cracking his knuckles. The classroom held its breath.

But before he could get any closer, a voice cut through the room.

“That’s enough.”

Everyone turned. Y/N had stood up from her seat near the window, calm as ever, her gaze locked on the intruder.

“He’s not going anywhere,” she said, stepping in front of Jihoon.

The guy blinked, almost confused. “You serious?”

“Dead serious. Go back and tell Seong-je—if he wants to talk to someone, there are better ways than sending his little messengers in the middle of class and threatening people.”

He stared at her, jaw tightening. But he didn’t move.

“Now,” she added, voice sharp, like the edge of a knife.

He clicked his tongue, clearly not used to being ordered around. But after a moment of silence, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

---

Up on the rooftop, Seong-je leaned back against the railing, cigarette lazily resting between his fingers as the wind tugged at his uniform jacket. One of his guys stepped forward, slightly out of breath.

“She stopped it,” he muttered. “Said to tell you not to bully people.”

Seong-je didn’t say anything at first.

Then he laughed.

Not loud. Not wild. Just a low, amused sound as the cigarette dropped from his lips and he crushed it beneath his shoe.

“So,” he murmured, staring out over the school grounds, “you really don’t scare easy, huh?”

---

It didn’t stop there.

Y/N had drawn the line—and she didn’t back down from it.

In the weeks that followed, more of Seong-je’s usual games started to fall apart. Council notices replaced whispered threats. Classrooms where his minions once walked in freely now stayed locked during lessons. Teachers, once too scared to speak up, started following her lead—quietly at first, but noticeably.

She didn’t confront him directly again. Not yet. But it was clear she was dismantling his influence piece by piece.

Some of the students—ones who used to avoid eye contact, who used to walk faster when they saw Seong-je’s people coming—started to push back. Small things. A shoulder that didn’t move out of the way. A refusal to give up a seat. A look that lasted just one second longer than it used to.

And behind it all, the student council moved differently now. Not just the usual announcements and rule enforcement. Y/N had launched something new.

A quiet system.

No speeches. No banners. Just a small box outside the council room labeled Welfare Support & Safety. A name that sounded harmless enough, but everyone knew what it meant.

If you were being targeted—by anyone—you could write it down and slip it inside. No names needed. No questions asked. And somehow, like magic, the bullying stopped. A council member showed up. A warning was given. A presence was felt.

For the first time in a long while, students had somewhere to go.

Not everyone trusted it at first. But when word spread that it actually worked—that someone was listening, was fighting back—it changed everything.

And somewhere above it all, on the rooftop where he always watched from a distance, Seong-je lit another cigarette, eyes narrowing just slightly as he looked down at the school shifting beneath him.

Y/N was becoming a problem.

A fascinating one.

---

It was already dark by the time Y/N left the school gates. Her footsteps echoed on the pavement, the streetlights casting long shadows behind her. The air was cold, sharp, and smelled faintly of rain. She rubbed her arms through her thin sleeves, mind busy with the day's work, the endless reports, and the constant presence of the Union pressing in from all sides.

She was used to pressure. To walking with her head high, even when her legs wanted to buckle. But what she wasn’t used to was this feeling—the eerie stillness in the air, the kind that told her something was wrong.

Then she heard it.

A voice. No, more than one.

Laughing. Mocking.

And one, smaller. Trembling.

Y/N stopped.

The alley up ahead was narrow and dimly lit, tucked between two worn-out apartment buildings. Her instincts screamed for her to keep walking. This wasn’t school—this was the real world. And out here, she didn’t have authority.

But still...

Her jaw tightened.

She stepped into the alley.

At first, she could only see shadows. Then they came into focus—four girls surrounding another, who sat on her knees, soaked, shaking, her hair plastered to her face. A plastic bottle hit the ground, rolling and spilling the last of its contents.

“Maybe next time don’t talk back,” one of the bullies sneered, lifting another bottle.

“That’s enough.”

Y/N’s voice was steady, cutting through the noise like a blade.

The girls turned. One raised an eyebrow. “You lost or something?”

Y/N stepped forward. Her eyes landed on the girl kneeling, and her heart clenched when she saw the uniform—Kanghak High.

She turned back to the bullies. “Walk away. Now.”

The one in front laughed. “You gonna make us?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She moved.

It wasn’t graceful—she wasn’t trained. But she had grit. She grabbed the bottle mid-air before it could be poured again, yanked it from the girl’s hand, and slammed it against the wall. One of them tried to punch her—Y/N ducked, elbowed her in the stomach, then kicked her shin hard enough to send her stumbling.

A swing caught her cheek, sharp and hot, but she ignored it.

Another girl lunged, but Y/N grabbed her wrist and twisted, using her momentum to send her crashing into the alley wall.

The rest backed off, breathing hard, cursing under their breath as they scattered.

Y/N stood, shoulders rising and falling. She wasn’t sure how long she’d last if it went on, but for now—they were gone.

She turned to the girl on the ground, knelt down, and shrugged off her blazer, wrapping it around her shoulders.

“Go,” she said, gently but firmly. “Report this. The police station’s two blocks away.”

The girl looked at her, wide-eyed, lips trembling. She nodded, then bolted.

The girl had run. The alley was quiet again, save for the slow drip of water from a broken pipe and Y/N’s own sharp breathing. Her blazer was gone, soaked and wrapped around the trembling student she’d just saved. Her blouse clung to her from sweat and the splatter of spilled water. Her knuckles stung, the skin split just slightly from hitting that girl’s cheekbone. But she didn’t care.

She leaned against the wall, the adrenaline slowly burning off, leaving her body cold and shaky.

Then—footsteps.

Three of them.

Heavy, slow, deliberate.

She turned.

Three guys walked into the alley, all taller, older—likely seniors or dropouts who still hung around Kanghak’s orbit. Two of them cracked their knuckles like some cheap movie, while the one in the middle—broad shoulders, long scar down his jaw—smirked like he already owned the night.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low and amused. “You’re the one who roughed up our girls?”

Y/N straightened, but her stomach twisted.

“They were harassing a student. I stepped in.”

The guy chuckled. “You stepped in?”

He looked to his friends. “She stepped in.”

They laughed.

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, and she glanced behind her—brick wall. No escape.

“You got guts, I’ll give you that,” Scar-Jaw said, stepping closer. “But you made a mistake.”

“Touch me and I will report you,” she said firmly.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Before she could move, he lunged. Y/N ducked, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. She kicked his shin hard, enough to make him curse and stumble back. The others closed in, and she threw a punch that landed but barely fazed the second guy. He shoved her against the wall, but she pushed off, elbowed him in the side, then spun to keep her back from being caught again.

But she was outnumbered.

Scar-Jaw came from the side, and this time he caught her arm, twisted it behind her back with a brutal jerk. A sharp cry escaped her lips. Her knees buckled. He slammed her forward, chest against the wall, her cheek scraping rough brick. His hand gripped her wrist, locking it behind her, while the other slid to her neck and pressed her face against the wall.

“Still feeling brave?” he whispered, laughing low in her ear. “No one’s coming.”

Her heart pounded. Panic bloomed. She tried to shift her weight, to kick back, but he just slammed her harder against the bricks. His breath was hot, reeking of cheap alcohol and spite.

“Let me go!” she shouted.

“Louder. Maybe someone will come save you,” he mocked, tightening his grip.

Then—

A pause.

A shift in the air.

Then came the sound. Crack.

His grip released instantly, and he staggered sideways, eyes wide with shock as a fist connected clean across his face. His head snapped, and he crashed into a stack of trash cans with a metallic clang, groaning.

The other two barely had time to react.

One charged.

Wrong move.

A swift uppercut to the gut. The sound of air being knocked out. Then a punch to the jaw that sent him down.

The third tried to grab from behind, but the attacker moved with lethal grace—one arm grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and drove a knee into his stomach. He dropped like dead weight.

Y/N turned, panting, and blinked through the haze of pain.

Seong-je.

Standing in the dim light of the alley, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers, eyes dark and unreadable.

He looked at the three groaning bodies on the ground. Then, slowly, turned to her.

Y/N tried to pull herself upright. Her back ached, wrist sore, the sting of humiliation and fear still fresh on her face.

She hated this.

Hated being seen like this—by him of all people.

“Why are you here?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

Seong-je didn’t answer. His gaze moved over her—assessing, not in pity, not even concern. Just quietly… furious. Like the sight of her being handled like that had touched something primal in him.

He stepped forward. His cigarette burned at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t move,” he said simply.

She stood frozen.

He stepped closer, taking off his dark red blazer and gently placing it over her shoulder. It smelled like smoke and faint cologne.

He reached out, and with the back of his hand, gently brushed a smear of dirt from her cheek. Then he ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a clumped, messy strand behind her ear, careful not to touch the bruise forming near her temple.

Her eyes were wide, breath caught in her throat.

He took the cigarette from his mouth, dropped it, and crushed it underfoot.

Her lip trembled, and a single tear slid down her cheek.

His hand hovered—then brushed it away, the pad of his thumb soft against her skin.

For a second, neither of them said anything.

Then he looked her in the eyes, voice low. “You're reckless.”

She held his stare, finally. “So are you.”

A slow smirk curled at the edge of his lips.

“I’m the problem, remember?” he said. “You’re supposed to be the perfect one.”

She swallowed hard.

“I never said I was perfect,” she replied, just as quietly but maintaining the glare.

For a moment, the tension between them was thick and electric. Not loud. Not angry. Just quiet, hot, undeniable. And seeing her so vulnerable made him feel something. A little spark inside him.

He stepped back.

Turned.

And started walking away.

Y/N stood there, blazer draped around her shoulders, the warmth soaking into her skin slowly.

Then—without thinking—she followed.

One foot in front of the other.

She didn’t say a word. Neither did he.

But he knew she was there.

He didn’t look back, didn’t ask questions.

He just let her walk behind him.

And for the first time in a long time, the night didn’t feel so cold.

---

I hope you enjoyed part 1 ^-^ I'll add the other parts soon!!!

[istanstraykidss]

Discover your secrets

Geum Seong-je x reader

in which seong-je happens to discover secrets about his school's student council president who happens to have a spotless personality.

secret 5 :- the club

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 final

word count - 1.8k

Whatever was going on between Seong-je and Y/N, it was hard to say. It was just doing things without saying anything. Seong-je was having the most fun he has ever had. And Y/N was deliberately not running away the fire that was approaching her.

At first she genuinely hated him, but that cocky personality of his, complemented hers perfectly. She found him really interesting. For Seong-je it was him who was looking at her from afar, catching her in moments that were only meant for her.

But, he had no idea of the ways Y/N was watching him. She saw him fight, even when he didn't know she was there. She saw him take naps at random places, do things that he found fun. And during the moments when he caught her, she didn't feel annoyed... Rather excited.

---

Seong-je leaned against the shadowed wall of the club, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. He didn’t light it for the buzz tonight. He just needed something to hold onto—something to anchor him while his eyes remained glued to the unlikeliest sight on the dance floor.

Y/N.

The student council president, Kanghak High’s queen of control and composure, stood under the strobes of neon red and violet like she belonged to the night itself. Her hair was down—actually down—and her school blazer long gone. A sleeveless black top clung to her in the low light, revealing the clean, smooth line of her shoulders, and her hips swayed to the beat of a bass-heavy track in a rhythm he had never imagined coming from her. Not even in his wildest, most taunting fantasies.

She didn’t see him yet. That made it better. That made it real.

He watched the way her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if she was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere freer. Every movement was unshackled, instinctive, like she’d let go of a part of herself he’d only caught glimpses of in piano rooms and boxing rings.

And somehow, it hit him harder than any fight he’d ever thrown himself into. Not because she was beautiful—though, damn, she was—but because she was real. Raw. Alive in a way she never let anyone see. This was her final secret, wasn’t it? Her rebellion.

"You just keep getting more impossible," he murmured to himself, lips curling into a grin.

He flicked the cigarette to the ground.

Time to join the chaos.

Y/N didn’t feel the heat of his presence until he was already behind her.

A hand brushed past her lower back, not quite touching but close enough that her body knew before her mind did. When she turned, startled, the breath she’d caught in the drop of the beat slipped right out again.

Geum Seong-je.

Of course.

He wore black windbreaker, his smirk was the same as ever—lazy, sharp, dangerous. His gaze roved over her like he was watching the world burn, and for once, she didn’t flinch away. She let him look. Let him see.

“This,” he said, stepping closer until the words grazed her cheek, his voice a low rasp beneath the music, “is the last place I expected to find you. And yet, here you are.”

Their eyes locked.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her heartbeat pulsed hard beneath her skin, not from the bass that trembled through the floor—but from him. His proximity. His audacity. His knowing grin that barely masked something more volatile underneath.

And then—she smiled. Just a little. Not her practiced one. Not the one she wore at school, tight and rehearsed. This was real. Crooked. Dangerous.

“Are you going to keep standing there like some villain in the shadows,” she said, voice brushing right against his chin, “or are you going to dance?”

Seong-je’s grin widened. His hands were already lifting—one finding her waist, the other lightly wrapping around her wrist. “Was waiting for an invitation, President.”

The beat dropped. The lights shifted—swirls of violet and red casting them in flickers of flame and smoke.

She didn’t pull away.

His palm pressed more fully into the curve of her hip. Her hand slid to his shoulder, fingers brushing the chain around his neck. Their bodies aligned, hips brushing, chests nearly touching. And then they moved.

It wasn’t smooth at first. It wasn’t choreographed or pretty like something out of a movie. It was instinct. Push and pull. A silent dare. He leaned in close; she tilted her chin defiantly. Her breath fanned across his collar; he laughed under his breath.

“You're full of surprises,” he murmured, voice heavy with heat.

“You’re just slow,” she shot back, but the words lost their bite when his hand slid to her back, anchoring her to him as they swayed. Her head tipped back slightly, and the exposed line of her throat shimmered under the lights.

He stared.

This girl—no, this woman in front of him—was not the version he’d built in his head. Not just the icy council president. Not just the perfect student. She was rhythm and rebellion and fire beneath skin, and every second he touched her made him want to dig deeper.

Their thighs brushed. Her fingers curled tighter on his shoulder. The song changed, slower now, deeper, pulling them into a new rhythm.

And then—God, she looked up at him.

Just a glance. But it was all it took.

She leaned down.

Their lips collided mid-motion, teeth brushing, breaths catching. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t planned. It was the kind of kiss that came from waiting too long and feeling too much. A low, rough sound left his throat when her hand tangled in his hair, yanking him closer. She tasted like adrenaline and something impossibly sweet. He chased it.

The dance floor melted away.

The press of their mouths deepened, her lips parting with a breathy sigh, his tongue sliding in—searching, coaxing, claiming. Her body arched into his. He groaned into her mouth, his grip tightening at her waist.

She was burning. So was he.

And yet—somewhere in the haze, Y/N pulled back.

Her lips were swollen, her chest rising and falling fast. Her pupils wide, almost black, locked on his.

“We can’t do this here,” she whispered.

Seong-je’s jaw clenched. He nodded once, wordless. His hand laced through hers—firm, no room for debate—and pulled her through the thrumming crowd. No one tried to stop them. No one could.

They reached the rooftop in silence.

The air was sharp with city wind, the night pressing in thick above them. Lights from passing cars flashed across their faces. Music still pulsed faintly below, but up here, everything felt quieter.

She leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms—not in defense, but tension. Heat still lingered on her skin. Her lips parted, but no words came.

So Seong-je closed the distance.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough now, hoarse, “you don’t get to throw a bomb like that and act like nothing happened.”

She didn’t move as he caged her in, palms on either side of the railing behind her. “You were watching me,” she said, almost a laugh. “All this time.”

He smirked. “You looked like a fire I wanted to run straight into.”

“And you did.”

He chuckled. “I always do.”

A beat passed. Their breaths mixed in the cold air.

Y/N’s voice came quiet. “I don't frequent clubs... Today happened to one, and here you are.” She glanced down. “Coming here. Dancing like that. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the only thing that’s mine. That doesn’t have expectations wrapped around it.”

Seong-je’s gaze sharpened.

“I thought it’d bother me more,” he said after a long moment, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “That I didn’t find it first.”

Her breath hitched.

“But seeing you like that…” he continued, dragging his fingers along her jaw, “It’s the best damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N let her head fall back against the railing. “You only like the chase, Seong-je. The secrets. The surprise of finding out I’m not who everyone thinks I am.”

“Maybe,” he said.

She looked at him—wide-eyed, vulnerable.

“And maybe,” she continued, her voice tightening, “you’ll get bored. Maybe when you finally know everything—when there’s no mystery left—you’ll lose interest. You’ll find the next game.”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he surged forward, capturing her mouth again in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was a promise and a challenge all at once.

His hands slid under the hem of her top, fingers splaying across the skin of her lower back, yanking her flush against him. Her legs brushed his; their hips collided. His lips moved over hers like he needed to memorize every inch of her mouth. Her moan slipped between them when his teeth grazed her bottom lip.

“I won’t stop,” he growled against her skin, dragging his mouth down her jaw, her throat. “Not when you look at me like that.”

Y/N gasped as his hands roamed—rough, seeking, needing. She arched into him, clinging to the front of his shirt.

But then—

“Seong-je—wait.”

He froze.

Her palms pressed to his chest. Not pushing him away completely. Just… stopping.

“I want this,” she whispered, searching his face. “But I need to know what it is. What we are.”

He exhaled hard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… is this just fun for you?” she asked. “Like everything else you do? The fighting, the skipping class, the chaos—”

He stared at her.

“—And me?” Her voice cracked. “Am I just another fun distraction?”

He stayed silent for a heartbeat too long.

Her eyes began to dim.

But then—

Seong-je stepped forward and grabbed her face between his palms.

“Y/N,” he said, voice shaking now, “even if I did start this for fun, that stopped the second I saw you look at me like I mattered.”

Her lips parted, but he didn’t let her speak.

“I don’t care how many secrets you’ve got left. You’ll never be unfun to me. Never boring. Never less.” His voice dropped. “Even if you show me everything, even if I know you so well I could draw the map of your soul blindfolded—”

He kissed her again. Hard. Desperate.

“—I’d still want more.”

She melted into him then. The weight of it all crashing between their bodies. She kissed him back like it was the first and last time. Fingers in his hair. His hands under her thighs, lifting her onto the railing. Her knees locked around his waist, anchoring them together.

They kissed until her lips ached, until their breathing turned ragged and every inch of skin buzzed. And just when it teetered on the edge of going further—

She pulled back again. Slowly.

Their foreheads pressed together.

“Not tonight,” she said.

Seong-je nodded. He didn’t protest. His thumb rubbed soft circles against her waist. He could feel her heartbeat beneath her skin, and it matched his own.

Silence lingered.

But it wasn’t heavy.

It was full.

Full of everything they’d said. Everything they hadn’t. Everything they were still becoming.

---

Whatever it was between Seong-je and Y/N, it had no name.

But in that moment—beneath the stars, with their hearts still racing and mouths bruised from the truth—it didn’t need one.

They had each other. The fun. The chaos. The fire.

And maybe, just maybe, something that would burn long after the thrill was over.

---

Damn!! The mini series is over!! I hope everyone reading this enjoyed it! I will be posting this on Wattpad as well ^-^. The username is the same as here. So if you want to check it out, you can <3

And if you want to request something, feel free to do so ^-^