linnitheo

[linnitheo]

Could you do an smau with Kimi Antonelli where he starts dating Verstappen!reader, and people joke about him dating her for Max because he's always fanboying about Max, thank you!

my brother, or me? -k.antonelli

summary: Kimi joins the grid with your brother, and you two stop posting each other on socials, cheating rumours spark, and your new album coming out doesn't help.

pairing: kimi antonelli x fem! singer! reader (i used tate mcrae as a face and album claim because she's so fucking good)

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youruser

liked by kimiantonelli, mercedesf1team, georgerussell and 4,764,382 others

youruser this is my boyfriend with a) my brother, b) his team boss (😐), and c) his best mate. the other two pictures of him are how he looks at me. the last picture is a representation of how i'm feeling. is it just a necklace?

comments

olliebearman it's just a necklace for me 🤷

kimiantonelli 🫠🫠🫠

mercedesf1team this is so… insane! 😹 -> youruser I CAN GET WORSE!

maxverstappen y/n, what the fuck is this? -> kimiantonelli NOTHING, she's insane -> youruser calling me crazy now? ⁉️ -> maxverstappen he's not wrong to... -> youruser both of you owe me an apology!

mercedesf1team we love kimi- toto -> youruser I LOVE KIMI. HE'S MINE! -> mercedesf1team we can share- toto -> youruser stan twitter will kill you. -> mercedesf1team he's all yours?- toto -> youruser YAY! @.kimiantonelli -> kimiantonelli please don't threaten my boss baby -> user242 why does he never play into her jokes? -> user82 ikr, it annoys me so much! can he not just join her in her whimsy? -> user2824 no, because she's immature and annoying, hope this helps xxxx

user24 Ollie and Kimi are awfully close...

user294 OLLIE AND KIMI PLEASE DON'T PULL A BROCEDES ON ME -> youruser I won't let them 🕺 -> user83 doing the lord's work -> youruser I try 🫶

paularon *honourable mention* the time when you surprised Kimi and Ollie was in his bed ⁉️⁉️ -> youruser better than the time i caught him looking at photos of my brother on pintrest😸 -> user57 he knows it's legal, right?

user855 My FAVOURITE part of Kimi and Y/n lore is that when she first met him she thought he was with Ollie 😹 -> user8356 nah, my fav gotta be when kimi freaked out over meeting max for the first time.

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mercedesf1team

likedby maxverstappen, georgerussell, and 853,847 others

mercedesf1team Rocking up to the paddock in style! 🦘🦘🦘

comments

youruser cutiepie! 🥧 -> georgerussell awh! thanks -> kimiantonelli she meant me?? -> youruser nah, i meant him. HE responds to my texts... unlike someone i know...

landonorris looking sharp

jackdoohan welcome to the homeland :) 🕺

user35 OMG HE'S SO HOT I NEED TO FUCK HIM -> youruser i get it🫠 -> maxverstappen please refrain from ever going on insta again -> youruser WHY IS EVERYONE TRYING TO CALM MY FREAK????

user8 a girl who is going to be ok

user924 YESSSS giving picture day realness!

user247 hamsters -> youruser I didn't see it in the tweet, but I see it with this one -> kimiantonelli ?????🤷‍♀️ -> youruser I'll explain when you get back to the garage -> kimiantonelli 👍 -> user28 they're so in love it genuinely HURTS me

user54975 i need a relationship like kimi and y/n

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youruser

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen, redbullf1team, and 2,763,382 others

youruser promise new music next week, but here's these cuties on the first race weekend of the season! 🏎️🏎️🏎️

comments

user7 P MENTIONNNNN -> youruser obvi, i have to remind everyone i'm the best aunt ever😏 -> user08 oh to be y/n verstappen's niece... -> user924 I WISHHHHHH

maxverstappen who's that strapping young boy? -> youruser if you're talking about yourself... I think we're past young mr. pushing thirty...??? -> maxverstappen no i was talking about kimi :) -> kimiantonelli thanks mate! -> youruser STOP TRYING TO STEAL MY BOYFRIEND FREAK! 🐺 -> maxverstappen *succeeding

user92 THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

user358 they're both so pookie i cannot

user35 Once again, I ask myself WHY he's with HER. -> user123 ?????? -> user35 She's such a bitch and all she does is make fun of him, it's not cute, nor funny, and she goes around acting like it's hilarious. -> user123 has he complained once? -> user35 Not in public but I assume in private. Shocker that he likes her sister more than her.

paularon Y/n post a picture of herself challenge has been lost again...😔 -> user34 Paul gets it -> user234 PAUL PLEASE SAVE Y/N FROM KIMI -> user5588 ????? -> user234 he's so unwhimsy and boring compared to her, it's so sad how she has to dull herself down for him. 👎👎👎 -> user5588 has she literally EVER been dull? I DON'T THINK SO. -> user385 fr, people in relationships can be different kinds of people and once both of them are happy (which is true as far as we know), then why should we judge?

user995 WHY IS KIMI SO INTO MAX IT FREAKS ME OUT -> youruser THANK YOU -> olliebearman once i asked him if he ever fantasised about max when he was with y/n, he said no but... I didn't believe him.... -> youruser brb bleaching my eyes -> maxverstappen same. -> kimiantonelli NO I'M SORRY I WAS BEING TRUTHFUL I PROMISE 🙏🙏

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kimiantonelli

liked by youruser, maxverstappen, mercedesf1team, and 564,321 others

kimiantonelli Hard to put it in to words. Thank you all for the support xxx

comments

youruser my love 🫶 -> kimiantonelli my everything 🫶

user8 never felt more single in my life!

user554 why are they SO the alchemy coded

user5873 they were so cute then he won -> user248 when he ran out of the car, past his favourite person (y/n verstappen) to hug her brother instead? Or when he finally noticed her and gave her a tiny kiss and hug? -> user57756 become employed 😼

jackdoohan congratualtions mate! 🫡 -> youruser you're next on that podium, i feel it! -> jackdoohan let's hope so!

mercedesf1team Welcome to the family Kimi 'youngest race winner ever' Antonelli! -> youruser I know my goat. 😸

lewishamilton ⭐️

georgerussell amazing work mate -> liked by kimiantonelli

charlesleclerc major drive mate, well done

user556 why is it always about y/n in his comments??? ffs he just won a race!!!!! -> user57557 bc she's more famous than him? bc people care about their relationship? he's not going to pick you when he already has the most beautiful woman on the planet?

user577 WHAT A DRIVE!!!!!!!! -> liked by youruser

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youruser

liked by paularon, charlesleclerc, isackhadjar, and 4,342,249 others

youruser can confirm toto and I were in hysterics. holy fucking shit he won :)

comments

user99 my fav wag

user748 she's so me

mercedesf1team not hysterics- toto -> youruser and who was crying? -> mercedesf1team you u want him to have a seat next year? -> youruser YES PLEASE, I'M SORRY UR RIGHT IT WAS ME

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y/nverstappenHQ

liked by landonorris, kimiantonelli, pierregasly, and 325,593 others

y/nverstappenHQ 'so close to what' out next month, see you there xxx

comments

user5 kimi in the likes, not comments

user3847 OH PREPARE TO BE SICK OF MEEEEEE -> liked by youruser

user735 DIVA DOWN, DIVA DOWNNNNNN 🕺

paularon she's eating the house boots down houston we have a problem (did i use that right?) -> youruser why yes you did king! 👑 -> user835 no way we got paul aron saying THAT before GTA 6. -> georgerussell does anyone understand what any of that was??? -> paularon I'll teach you, just get me a meeting with toto, yeah? -> mercedesf1team I'm interested- toto -> paularon HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED WHAT 😼

jackdoohan the cuntiest of them all I fear -> liked by kimiantonelli

olliebearman WORK IT GIRL!!! 🕺🕺🕺

landonorris oh this is going to go HARD -> youruser you get it, and i appreciate that. 🧡

isackhadjar POOKIE IS EATING AND SERVING CUNTTTTTT -> youruser MY FUCKING BOY 🫡

user348 where tf is kimi rn? -> user2345 probably hyperventilating over his super hot girlfriend 😏

user245 Babe wake up, new y/n music just dropped. -> user348537 I'M FREAKING OUT ⁉️⁉️⁉️

user959 gorgeous gorgeous girls listen to y/n while watching formula one -> oscarpiastri they also listen to her while competing in f1 :) 🧡 -> landonorris HE'S SO DIVAA!!!! -> youruser oscar, i love you queen 🙏👑

christianmansell SLAYYYYYYY -> youruser SLAYYYYYYYYYYY

davidmalukas PRETTY BITCHES LISTEN TO Y/N VERSTAPPEN 💯💯 -> youruser YOU JUST GET ITTTTTTTTTT

maxverstappen please get off this app 👍 -> user475 DON'T SAY SUCH THINGS PLEASE MAX -> user457 older brother core

yourfriend UGH THIS ALBUM 💯💯 ->youruser ugh your gorgeous faceeee -> liked by yourfriend

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olliebearman

liked by paularon, youruser, kimiantonelli and 542,452 others

olliebearman kimi when he finds out about his girlfriend's next album: picture one. kimi when he realises max is free to talk in the paddock: picture two. @.kimiantonelli @.youruser @.maxverstappen

comments

youruser it's a sad truth... he likes him more than me... 😿 -> olliebearman I still love you more than I love Kimi so it's fine. -> kimiantonelli ⁉️🤷‍♀️ -> user385 OLLIE AND Y/N????

user53 ollie is shooting his shot and i do not blame him

user356 when will they just ditch kimi and get together? they were always cuter together anyway? -> user66 SHE'S BEEN DATING KIMI FOR ACTUAL YEARS WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

yourfriend he's a bitch -> youruser PLAY NICE IT'S KIMI! 😸 -> yourfriend ...👎

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isackhadjarprivate

liked by kantonelli, max4verstappen, yourprivuser, and 283 others

isackhadjarprivate us when we hear kimi embarrass himself in front of max AGAIN

comments

yourprivuser ik he's ur grid dad, but let him live @.kantonelli

pauloaron no way ISACK (aka the KING of embarrassing himself in front of Lewis Hamilton) had to call him out 🙏

olliebear the girls are fighting! 🕺 -> youruser he's learning! 👑

estebestie ...

lewishamilton it is pretty bad... 🙈

max4verstappen guys let's not be mean :( -> kantonelli exactly!

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paularon

liked by youruser, kimiantonelli, maxverstappen, and 734,294 others

paularon Us enjoying our time away from our son (aka Kimi, her boyfriend)

comments

jackdoohan MI BABES -> youruser MI JACKIE!!!

olliebearman looking fabulous paulito ->liked by paularon -> user385 MY PAUOLLIE HEARTTTT

user23 still boyfriend??? -> user556 be so fr they deffo broke up -> user323 if they broke up i don't believe in love. -> user345 please get a job.

kimiantonelli invite me? -> youruser i did :( u said no. -> user4 istfg if kimi hurts her i'll CURSE HIM

landonorris stop i want to be your frienddddd -> youruser invite me to mclarennnn bitch

pierregasly looking cute -> youruser why are u in love with paul? -> pierregasly why aren't you?

user555 DID ANYONE CATCH PIERRE'S COMMENT LMAO -> user99 PAULY/N TRUTHERS RISEEEEEE -> user13 he's so me it's crazy

liamlawson the pookie group :) -> youruser you're my pookie

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olliebearman

liked by kimiantonelli, youruser, paularon, and 742,294 others

olliebearman flicks from the past couple races, adios to Y/n and GOOD LUCK ON TOUR!

comments

user76243 so we're not talking about ioio? -> user356 i'm employed what does this mean -> user58583 basically the girl in the middle is a singer (y/n verstappen) and is dating the f1 rookie kimi antonelli, and she just released a song that makes it look like kimi cheated... no one in the paddock or her has said anything so we have no idea if that's actually what's going on

user576 BADDIE ALERT 🚨🚨🚨

maxverstappen who's the gremlin in the middle photo? -> kimiantonelli she sometimes comes into my garage to touch my hair... freaky. -> maxverstappen she does the same to me... freaky... -> youruser please stop with the joint bullying i just like to play with hair :) -> kimiantonelli weird hobby but i love you anyways so i guess it doesn't matter :) -> maxverstappen as sweet as it is to know my sister is loved, please refrain from doing it on instagram -> kimiantonelli 👍 got it max! -> youruser LET ME BE LOVED OUT LOUD MAX FFS NOT ALL OF US HAVE A FAMILY -> maxverstappen I'm your brother?? -> youruser I don't even know what i meant there??? -> user50 y/nkimi CRUMBS and he's in love omfg they're so cute

jackdoohan how's that hottie in the third slide single? 😏 -> paularon have you seen him and kimi? I wouldn't exactly call him single -> user767 PAUL WHAT DO YOU KNOW?????

user87y/n is GLOWING post break-up. she's seriously so stunning

user75 Y/NPAUL TRUTHERS RISEEEEEE -> user784 I've been here

gabrielborteleto the divas are in town 🙀

liamlawson BADDIE PAUL 😻😻😻 -> paularon "bad crash for lawson, straight into the barriers in the first turn" -> this u? -> liamlawson do you live to humble me? -> youruser I do... 😼

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f1WAGgossip

liked by pierregasly, yourfriend, and 823,392 others

f1WAGgossip Trouble in paradise? Singer/songwriter, WAG to Kimi Antonelli, and sister to Max Verstappen, Y/n Verstappen, recently released a song called 'it's ok, i'm ok', possibly alluding to the idea that Kimi might've cheated on her! They haven't been seen much together, though she has been in the paddock, but now she's going on tour.

comments

user37 y/n nation we ride at dawn

user25 I KNEW PAUL WOULD'VE BEEN BETTER FOR HER -> user5779 0 days since a pauly/n 'truther' has pissed me off. she's clearly better suited to ollie. -> user565 SHE'S DATING KIMI?????

user935 PLEASE SAY THIS IS A JOKE

user2133 finally she's free of him -> user356 ???? -> user2133 i just think they're not right for each other. she's so extroverted and open and he's just so... not. Like he seems extroverted but just not with her, and he seems to not get her humour. -> user84 key word? SEEMS! you know nothing about their private and personal relationship.

user244 PLEASE SAY KIMI IS SINGLE NOW

user73 finally i have a chance with kimi! -> user935 do you enjoy humiliating yourself online?

user358 guys i fear this might be the end of kimiy/n, her friend and pierre gasly liked this... -> user55 ok, and let's be so real, her friend fucking hates kimi. -> user546 maybe she has a reason to? she actually knows him personally????

user3853 my mate is in F2 and knows kimi and said he's been just off his phone for the past few weeks. i think they broke up AGES ago. -> user76 deffo had nothing to do with the fucking F1 season starting up, right? you are a moron, so is your friend.

user46 pierre here for the drama and i respect it

user7835 CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE NEW ALBUM AND HOW GOOD SHE LOOKS???

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youruser

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, olliebearman and 4,342,245 others

youruser holy shit! tour is underway, max actually (WILLINGLY) came to a show, and got p1 the next day! I must be a good luck charm!

comments

jackdoohan might need some of that good luck over here in alpine... -> youruser bro you've had three podiums in an alpine wtf are you on about????? -> jackdoohan how hard did you hit your head last night???

user83 NO KIMI LIKE? IS IT OVER ???? -> user2567 i'm done if they are -> user3678 sleeping on the highway brb!!!

user35702 KIMI IS GONE, PAUL YOU MUST RISEEEEE

user244 OLLIE HAS A CHANCE!!!! -> user7565 yall are crazy they havent even TOLD anyone yet. Just let them live.

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kimiantonelli

liked by maxverstappen, lewishamilton, landonorris and 312,329 others

kimiantonelli Great season so far, up to P2 in the constructors, and P3 in the drivers. Can't wait to go back to racing, but first, some rest :)

comments

user835 not to be chronically online but y/n hasn't commented or liked???

user530 babes... it might be over.

user995 broke up with his sister, but still gotta get max in, i respect the grind.

user123 this is so insane i fear

user92 he looks so sad :( -> user573 he's a grown man -> user83 babe he's 18 and has been dating her for 3 years, it's a big deal

user8357 why isn't anyone talking about his incredible start to the season???

user345 guys i'm so devastated

oscarpiastri Putting in the work mate, good job! -> liked by kimiantonelli

alexalbon Forza Kimi -> liked by kimiantonelli

user3575 if my boyfriend broke up with me, i'd kill my brother for still being his fucking photodump -> liked by yourfriend

user375 ollie still making it into the photodump is so boyfriend coded

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f1WAGgossip

liked by yourfriend, pierregasly, landonorris, and 2,349,924 others

f1WAGgossip Crisis averted! Kimi and Y/n are fine (as far as we know), and he actually visited her at her show last night in Montreal. He surprised her on stage and everything!

comments

user83 I'M SORRY DID YOU SEE THE WAY HE LOOKED AT HER??

user34 she looked so stunning last night, and he was ENTRANCED fr -> user84 i get it.

user75 this is the best news i've had all week, and I passed the bar this week

user457 they're my fav couple -> landonorris same tbh

user450 can we talk about how yourfriend was adding fuel to the flames?? like wtf -> yourfriend lol, my b. kimi pissed me off. He's actually so in love with her it's so annoying and he takes her away from me :( -> youruser I still love you too :)

kimiantonelli People thought we were broken up? @.youruser -> user8435 LMAO -> user47 dude didn't even know -> user57 have you been living under a rock???? -> kimiantonelli No, I've been racing???? -> youruser could've sworn i told you, sorry love :) -> kimiantonelli all goo love. just to check, we aren't broken up, right? -> youruser nope. i'm all yours. -> kimiantonelli 👍 -> user353 why is he a thumbs up warrior?? -> user7565 they're so cute i want to claw my eyes out.

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navigation for my blog :)

mercedes & williams masterlist

[linnitheo]

suck my dick you tiny man

i feel hurt, what kind of disrespect is this? This is not okay.

[linnitheo]

Through the strom

Jungkook x reader Part 2

Summary: Jungkook and Y/N find peace in a coastal town, away from the pressures of fame. However, their happiness is disrupted when the media exposes their relationship, sparking controversy and backlash online. Despite the storm of public scrutiny, Jungkook refuses to hide their love, publicly declaring his commitment to Y/N. Though challenges arise, including hate comments and career risks, they stand together, navigating the chaos as a united front. In the end, Jungkook embraces honesty, introducing Y/N to his fans, proving that love—no matter how tested—will always prevail.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

words: 1,9k

taglist: @linnitheo

The days they spent in the coastal town were some of the most peaceful Jungkook and Y/N had ever known. They filled their time with quiet mornings wrapped in soft blankets, watching the waves roll onto the shore. Afternoons were spent exploring hidden alleys, tasting fresh seafood, and letting the salty breeze carry their worries away. It was the first time in what felt like forever that Jungkook allowed himself to just be.

One evening, after a long day of hiking through a scenic cliffside trail, they returned to the cottage, pleasantly exhausted. Jungkook stretched his arms above his head and collapsed onto the couch, pulling Y/N onto his lap.

“I’m never going back,” he joked, nuzzling into her neck. “This is our life now. Just you, me, and the ocean.”

Y/N giggled, running her fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t mind that, honestly. But you do have a world waiting for you back home.”

Jungkook groaned. “Don’t remind me.” His voice was light, but Y/N could hear the hesitation behind it.

She tilted his chin up so he’d meet her gaze. “Kook... have you thought about what comes next? After this break?”

Jungkook sighed, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her arm. “I have,” he admitted. “I just... I don’t want to lose this feeling. This sense of peace I have with you. The moment I go back, the noise starts again—the expectations, the pressure.”

Y/N cupped his face, her heart aching for him. “Then we find a way to hold onto this. You don’t have to go back to the way things were. You can set boundaries, take care of yourself.”

Jungkook looked at her, his eyes searching. “And you’ll be with me through it all?”

“Always,” she promised.

Jungkook exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Then I think I can do it.”

That night, as they lay curled up together, Y/N thought about what awaited them when they returned to Seoul. Things wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful.

***

Returning to reality was a jarring shift. The moment they landed, the familiarity of flashing cameras and the hushed whispers of fans reminded Jungkook of the life he had momentarily stepped away from. He squeezed Y/N’s hand, grounding himself as they made their way out of the airport.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of carefully planned reintroductions. Jungkook had spoken with his company about restructuring his workload, and to his surprise, they had been supportive. His hiatus had caused concern, but rather than pushing him to return at full force, they allowed him to ease back into things.

Y/N watched him navigate it all with admiration. He was learning to set boundaries, to prioritize his mental well-being, and she could see the difference in him.

But peace was never meant to last forever.

Late one night, Y/N was scrolling through her phone when she saw it—an article that sent a chill down her spine.

Liked by jungkookaremine, linnie and 999,999 others

Dispatch Jungkook’s Secret Relationship EXPOSED, was he not away on a health journey?

view all comments

username1 my baby has a girl?

username2 good for jungkook

jungkookaremine this is unacceptable

jkismine so he is fine?

linnie omg i cant believe this

↳ linnie who is this girl?

↳ linnie who is taking my man?

Her breath hitched as she clicked on it. The post speculated about Jungkook’s recent time away, questioning whether it was truly for “mental health” or if he had taken a break because of a relationship. Paparazzi had managed to capture blurry images of them together at the city, and though they weren’t entirely clear, the internet had already begun its wild theories.

Heart pounding, Y/N turned to Jungkook, who had just walked into the room with a towel draped around his neck. He frowned at her expression. “What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she handed him the phone. His eyes scanned the article, his jaw tightening.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.

Y/N bit her lip. “What do we do?”

Jungkook exhaled slowly, setting the phone down. “We talk to the company. Figure out the best course of action.” He met her eyes, his gaze serious. “Are you okay?”

Y/N hesitated before nodding. “I just... I don’t want this to get out of control.”

Jungkook walked over, gently cupping her face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N. No matter what, we face this together.”

Despite his reassurance, Y/N couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling settling in her chest. This was only the beginning.

And she had a feeling that the storm was far from over.

The next morning, Jungkook’s agency released a statement dismissing the rumors. They denied the dating speculation, calling the photos “misinterpreted” and “invasive.” But the damage was already done.

Social media was in chaos. Some fans were supportive, sending messages of love and encouragement. But others… weren’t as kind. Hate messages flooded Y/N’s private accounts, her photos were dissected, and strangers picked apart every interaction she had ever had with Jungkook in public.

It was overwhelming.

Sitting on the couch, Y/N scrolled through the messages, her chest tightening. Gold digger. She’s ruining his career. He deserves better.

Jungkook walked into the room and immediately noticed the look on her face. “Y/N… what are you looking at?”

She hesitated, but before she could hide her phone, he snatched it from her hands. His jaw clenched as he read the comments.

“Are you kidding me?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“Kook—”

“No.” He tossed the phone onto the table. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I knew this would get ugly.” His hands ran through his hair, frustration clear in every movement. “I should have protected you better.”

Y/N reached for him, squeezing his wrist. “Hey. This isn’t your fault.”

Jungkook exhaled harshly. “It is. If I had just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “No. I’m not going to hide this anymore.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’m done pretending. I don’t want to act like you’re some secret I’m ashamed of.” He sat down beside her, taking her hands in his. “I love you, Y/N. And if people have a problem with that, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

Her heart pounded at his words. “Jungkook… are you sure?”

He smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you?”

Y/N thought about it—about the scrutiny, the rumors, the hate. But then she thought about him. The way he held her in his sleep, the quiet moments they shared, the love in his eyes every time he looked at her.

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

Jungkook grinned, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Then let’s do this. Together.”

That night, Jungkook did something that shook the internet.

liked by uarmyhope, thv, and 1,438,798 others

@abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz Not hiding anymore. 💜

comment section restricted

The storm had broken. And they were standing in the aftermath, together.

The moment Jungkook hit post, the world seemed to explode.

Y/N watched as the notifications flooded in—comments, news articles, fan reactions. Within minutes, their names were trending worldwide. Some fans were elated, celebrating his decision to be open about their relationship. Others… weren’t as accepting.

The comments were unbearable.. The hate and the jealousy were too much, Jungkook turned off the comments so Y/N didn´t see them

Jungkook, however, remained calm. He sat beside Y/N on the couch, one arm draped around her shoulders as he scrolled through his phone. “Well, we expected this,” he muttered, showing her a mix of comments. Some were filled with love and excitement, while others were cruel and hurtful.

Y/N swallowed hard. “I just… I don’t want you to regret this.”

Jungkook turned to her, his eyes filled with unwavering determination. “I could never regret you, Y/N.”

Her heart ached at his words, but the fear still lingered. “But your career—”

“My career is mine to handle,” he interrupted gently. “And you… you’re a part of my life. I refuse to act like you don’t exist just to please strangers.”

Tears burned at the back of Y/N’s eyes. She had spent so much time worrying about how their relationship would affect him that she hadn’t fully realized how much it meant to him to fight for them.

She took a deep breath, lacing her fingers through his. “Okay,” she whispered. “Then we face this together.”

The next few days were a whirlwind. Jungkook’s agency reached out, carefully navigating the situation. Surprisingly, rather than reprimanding him, they supported his decision—though they warned him about potential backlash.

“Some brands might hesitate,” his manager admitted during a private meeting. “But with the way fans are reacting, it’s clear you still have overwhelming support.”

Jungkook simply nodded. “I don’t care about brands. I care about being honest.”

Y/N sat beside him, squeezing his hand under the table. He had always been strong, but seeing him stand so firmly in his decision made her admire him even more.

Still, there were challenges. A few endorsement deals quietly withdrew, and some reporters tried to twist the narrative. But for every negative article, there were countless fans defending them, celebrating Jungkook’s choice to live on his own terms.

A week later, Jungkook went live for the first time since the announcement.

Y/N sat just off-screen, listening as he greeted his fans with his usual warm smile. “Hey, everyone. It’s been a while.”

The comments flooded in immediately, many asking about her.

Jungkook chuckled. “I know what you all want to talk about. And yeah… I guess I should start by saying thank you. To those who have been supportive, I see you, and I appreciate you more than you know.”

His expression turned serious. “And to those who feel disappointed or upset… I get it. I know you’ve supported me for years, and maybe this wasn’t what you expected. But I hope you’ll still walk with me on this journey.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten as she watched him navigate this conversation with such sincerity.

After a moment, he glanced off-screen, his eyes meeting hers. Without hesitation, he reached out his hand.

Y/N hesitated. Not because she was afraid—but because stepping into the light like this was huge. But when she saw the love in Jungkook’s gaze, she took his hand and moved into frame.

The chat exploded.

Jungkook smiled at her before turning back to the camera. “This is Y/N. The person who makes me happier than I can put into words.”

Y/N blushed, offering a shy wave. “Hi, everyone.”

The comments were a mix of excitement, shock, and support.

Jungkook squeezed her hand. “We know this won’t be easy. But we’re in this together.”

And as Y/N looked at him, the warmth in his eyes steady and sure, she realized—no matter what came next, they would be okay.

Together.

Part 1

Part 2

[linnitheo]

THE PURGE SERIES #1: Kiss Me - pjs

SYNOPSIS: You hate the Purge. You hate the monster they create, the cruelty, and the way it's broken you down year after year. You hate the rich most of all—the people who don't have to fight to survive. People like Park Jongseong. And now, somehow, he's sitting next to you. The boy who's always smiling, always comfortable, as if the world hasn't burned down around him. The boy who lives in safety, behind barricades his father's company builds, while you've spent years starving, hiding, and praying. Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him. Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.

warning: contains dark sensitive topics, mentions of murder, sexual assault, violence, and ptsd behavior, different perspectives of the purge, one sided hatred, reader is kinda difficult to handle but it's a trauma response, messy ending, jay is a supportive boyfie (in a good and bad ways), reader is unhinged, explicit content (3 diff scenes smut), fingering, nipple play, pussy eating, unprotected sex, doggy style, purge fucking, MDNI, reader discretion is advised. WC: 21.8K.

music to listen while purging: murder in my mind

You hate March 21. God, how you loathe it—the day that strips away any pretense of humanity.

It always starts the same way: the wailing sirens, cold and mechanical, ripping through the air.

Not even sixty seconds pass after the announcement before the streets erupt. Gunshots. Screams. The unmistakable, animalistic sounds of survival. The world falls apart faster than you can blink, faster than you can even take a breath. And every year, you sit in that darkness, trembling, hating.

You hate how they made this—how society carved out one single night to let its ugliest urges spill over.

You hate the twisted smiles on people's faces, the gleeful violence, the merciless slaughter. You hate everything about it.

You hate how weak you are. How poor you are. How your "barricade" is nothing but a creaky door and a pile of junk you've pushed in front of it. Heavy chairs, the couch, a dresser you could barely move—what is that supposed to do against the monsters outside?

They'll break through it in minutes, seconds even, if they choose you this year.

And there's nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

So you crawl inside the closet, knees tucked into your chest, hands pressing hard over your ears as the chaos outside creeps closer and closer. You rock back and forth, whispering to yourself, "Just twelve hours. You just have to survive twelve hours."

You hate how your morals hold you hostage.

You're too much of a coward, aren't you? Or maybe you're too human, too stupidly tied to the idea of right and wrong.

Either way, you've sentenced yourself to this endless nightmare.

You hate how they have no mercy. How people don't even hesitate.

The second those sirens stop, the masks go on, the knives come out, and the laughter—the laughter—starts echoing down the streets like some kind of hellish symphony.

You hate the way your mind races, picturing your own end over and over again. Would it be quick? A bullet to the head? Or would it be slow? Something worse?

You hate how poor you are. How people like you—people who can't afford high-tech barricades, bulletproof shelters, or private security.

You're the bottom rung of society, the lambs to the slaughter. And that's exactly how they see you. Nothing more than sport for the rich.

You've been their prey before—dragged into one of their "games." Their sick, twisted hunting expeditions where they wear masks and hunt you down like animals, laughing all the while.

Somehow, you survived that night. Somehow, you ran fast enough, hid well enough. But you didn't leave unscathed.

No, you left something behind that night: your sanity.

You can still feel their eyes on you, their jeers echoing in your ears, their mocking laughter as they cornered you over and over, just to let you escape so the game could continue.

You see their faces—those masks—every time you close your eyes.

And no matter where you go, it's always the same.

You transfer to a new town, a new neighborhood, hoping to disappear, but you always end up right back here.

They smile too wide, your neighbors. They're too friendly. Too eager to see you. And every time they stare at you, every time their grins linger a little too long, you feel the bile rise in your throat.

You hate everything about the Purge.

You hate the people who participate in it, the government that allows it, the sick, twisted minds that relish in it.

You hate the monsters you've seen outside, but you hate the monster you're becoming even more.

Because every year, it gets harder. Harder to keep your sanity intact. Harder to resist. Harder to keep your morals from shattering under the weight of it all. And every year, the hatred inside you grows like a poison, rotting you from the inside out.

You hate how you're always waiting. Waiting for another March 21.

Waiting for the next time you'll have to endure this torment. Waiting for the day you finally snap, when you stop running, when you stop hiding, and when you start fighting back.

You hate the waiting more than anything because you know that day is coming. You know it's only a matter of time before something inside you finally breaks.

And when it does, you'll hunt them down. Every last one of them. The rich who preyed on you. The neighbors who smiled too wide while undressing you. The government officials who allowed this nightmare to persist.

You hate March 21.

But more than that, you hate how much you're starting to look forward to it.

"I see you survived the Purge," you muttered, your eyes narrowing as they landed on the group of seven boys in the hallway.

They were laughing softly, their voices laced with relief as they exchanged hugs and pats on the back.

"Thank God," one of them said, gripping the others in a tight embrace, his shoulders sagging like he'd been holding his breath for the last twelve hours.

"I already told you guys," another voice chimed in—smooth, Park Jongseong. Of course.

"Next year, you should all come to our house. Our lockdown is solid. Our barricades are strong enough to keep anyone out. You'll be safe there, trust me."

You scoffed, the sound low and bitter, but loud enough to be heard if anyone was paying attention. Of course, they weren't. They never noticed you. Not people like them.

Park Jongseong— the golden boy. His father owned one of the biggest barricade companies in the country, making a fortune off other people's desperation and fear.

He didn't just survive the Purge; he thrived in it. His family's state-of-the-art lockdown system probably made their house into a fortress.

And now here he was, standing in the middle of the school hallway, flashing that perfect smile and talking about how his family had been "safe and sound" while people like you hid under a bed, praying not to die.

You bit the inside of your cheek, tasting blood, and turned away. Of course Jongseong had survived. People like him always did.

You were miserable. Miserable every single day for the past seven years since the Purge began.

Seven years since the night your parents were taken from you on that first Purge.

Seven years of surviving on your own, scrabbling through life like a rat in a never-ending maze.

An irregular college student balancing four jobs just to afford rent, tuition, and scraps of food that barely kept you standing.

And some nights, when you're too tired to even close your eyes, the same thought creeps in, like a whisper you can't shut out.

Why can't you just die already?

Was this what God wanted for you? Was your suffering some part of His great plan? If it was, you hated Him for it. You hated everything—for putting you here, for making you live like this, for keeping you alive while everyone else you cared about was gone.

Then came August. Seven months before the next Purge, You took your entire month's pay—every single cent you'd earned and bought a handgun from a retired Russian police man who didn't ask questions.

You didn't eat for weeks after that, barely managing to survive on water and scraps you could steal from work.

Hunger clawed at your stomach, but you didn't care. Every second of discomfort was worth it as you cradled the gun in your hands at night, running your fingers over the cold steel.

At college, exhaustion weighed on you like a heavy coat. Your mind was foggy, your body barely cooperating as you tried to focus in class. You were too tired to care about anything anymore. That's why, when you heard the voice, you didn't even look up at first.

"Hey, are you Y/N?"

You blinked, sluggishly dragging your tired eyes up to meet the man.

Park Jongseong. He was standing there, his usual easy smile on his face, holding a lab manual in one hand.

Your brows furrowed as he sat down next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You raised an eyebrow at him, watching in silent disbelief as he got comfortable.

"We're partners in laboratory," he announced with that same friendly grin, his tone light and conversational.

You stared at him, your eyebrow twitching slightly. Of course, we are. Just my fucking luck.

You hated him. You hated everything about him.

You hated how he could walk into a room and light it up, how he always smiled like life was some perfect little gift wrapped up in a bow.

You hated how easy everything seemed for him, how he floated through life without ever seeming to care about the world around him.

Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him.

Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.

"I'm Park Jongseong," he says brightly, "You can call me Jay, if you don't know me."

You stare at him with your tired eyes, barely masking your irritation. His enthusiasm is exhausting, like a candle burning too brightly, too close to your already frayed nerves.

But he doesn't seem to notice. Of course, he doesn't. He keeps talking.

"I'm planning to start our experimental research maybe in like three days? I don't really like cramming," Jay continues, flashing you another one of his easy smiles.

"Are you available on Saturday?" he asks, finally looking at you. "Do you want to do it at my place or yours?"

His smile falters for the first time when you just stare at him, bored and uninterested, like he's wasting your time—which he is.

He must be so used to people hanging on his every word, eating up his charm. You, on the other hand, are trying to figure out how long you have to tolerate him before he leaves.

"I have a morning shift at the ice cream shop. Probably the afternoon, but I'll leave at 7 PM," you reply flatly, spinning your pen lazily between your fingers. You're not trying to be rude.

You're just tired—tired of him, tired of everything. "Then I have another shift at the restaurant."

Jay nods, and for a moment, you think he's about to say something stupid, like you work too hard or you should take it easy. But he doesn't. Instead, he watches you for a second too long before his smile returns, a little dimmer than before.

"And your place," you add, cutting off whatever he was going to say. The idea of being in his house, surrounded by whatever rich-boy luxuries he has, makes your stomach churn.

Jay blinks, then nods again. "Alright, my place it is," he says, his tone softer, as if he's trying to figure you out.

You hate it—hate the way his gaze lingers on you.

You turn your attention back to your notebook, letting the silence hang between you until he finally shifts in his seat and looks away. At least he knows when to stop talking. For now.

You observe people every shift. At the ice cream shop, kids cry and tug at their parents, pointing at a flavor they desperately want. At the fast food chain, students laugh, stuffing fries into each other's mouths, their joy spilling out into the air.

You watch them. You clean up after them. And when no one's looking, you pick at their scraps—half-eaten burgers, fries left behind—anything to stave off the hunger that gnaws at you day and night.

When you sneak into the back to wash your hands, you catch your reflection in the grimy bathroom mirror. It almost shocks you, the hollow-cheeked girl staring back.

Your dark eye bags seem to sink into your face like bruises, your cheekbones sharp enough to look dangerous. Your lips are pale, chapped from thirst, and your hoodie swallows what little remains of you.

Even when you do sleep, it's never peaceful.

The nightmares always find you, pulling you back to that night—hands grabbing, voices laughing, the cold press of a mask against your skin.

Not even the sleeping pills you've wasted money on help anymore. You've tried. God knows you've tried. But the fear is something you can't escape.

And then Saturday comes.

Jay welcomes you at his house with his usual easy smile.

You stand awkwardly at the entrance, your eyes immediately drawn to the luxurious details surrounding you.

Expensive vases line the walls. A cabinet full of fine liquor gleams under the lights. Everything in the house feels deliberate, pristine, and just looking at it makes you feel like you don't belong.

"This way," Jay says cheerfully, leading you to his room.

The moment you step inside, you're greeted with more of the same—displays of wealth that feel almost obscene to you. A collection of guitars lined up like trophies. A cabinet stuffed with fancy perfumes. Everything here screams a life of comfort, of privilege, of a world you'll never touch.

"Are you always cold? Want me to lower the aircon?" Jay asks suddenly, his gaze flicking to your oversized hoodie.

You almost punch him for the question. The audacity of it. 

Are rich people really this clueless?

The irritation bubbles up. You almost imagine your hands around his neck, squeezing some sense into him.

"No, thanks," you say curtly, not bothering to hide your annoyance. You drop to the floor, pulling out your notebook and pen, ignoring the uncomfortable tension forming between you.

"You can sit on my bed," Jay offers, reaching out to touch your arm like it's no big deal.

But the moment his hand brushes your sleeve, your mind snaps. You're not in his room anymore. You're back there—on that night—being grabbed, pulled, restrained. Masked faces loom in your vision, their laughter ringing in your ears like a sick melody.

Before you even realize it, you've slapped his hand away, standing so fast you almost knock your notebook over.

"I—I'm sorry," you stammer, your voice shaky as you rub your arm. Jay just stands there, his hand hovering in the air, confusion written all over his face.

"It's fine," he says quickly. His smile is gone now, replaced by something softer.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to sit down again—this time on the bed, even though you'd rather be anywhere else. You pull your notebook back into your lap, flipping it open as if nothing happened, your hands trembling slightly.

The two of you work in near silence, researching for your lab project. Jay tries to engage you now and then, asking for your thoughts, but you keep your answers brief. You don't want to talk. You don't want to share. You just want to get through this.

After a while, Jay breaks the silence again. "How many jobs do you have?" he asks, his voice almost hesitant. "How do you manage school and work?"

You huff, irritated by his questions. What does he know about working to survive? What does he know about balancing your life on a thread?

"I don't manage," you reply bluntly. "I'm already planning to stop after this semester."

Jay straightens in his seat, frowning slightly. "Why?"

"Because I can't afford it anymore," you snap, your patience wearing thin. Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you don't care. You glare at him, daring him to argue, to say something stupid like, You should keep trying.

But Jay just looks down, his gaze softening. "I'm sorry," he whispers, almost too quiet to hear.

Before you can respond, a knock interrupts the moment. A head peeks into the room—a woman with wavy hair and a face so similar to Jay's that it's clear she's his mother.

"Heard you had a classmate over," she says warmly. "Come down and eat."

Jay stands immediately, glancing at you as if waiting to see if you'll follow. You nod stiffly, clutching your notebook to your chest as you trail behind him, feeling awkward in a house like this.

When you reach the dining room, your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loud at the sight of the food. A table full of steaming dishes spreads out before you, prepared by maids who move around effortlessly. You've never seen this much food at once before, not even during the holidays.

"Come, sit, sweetheart," Jay's mom says, pulling a chair out for you. Her voice is so kind, so gentle, that it makes your chest ache.

You sit down slowly, staring at the food like it's a mirage. Jay's mom piles your plate high with food, her warm smile reminding you so much of your own mother that your throat tightens.

"Eat, don't be shy," she says, her voice light and encouraging.

Your hands shake as you pick up the spoon, the first bite warming your tongue. 

The taste is overwhelming, rich and filling, and it's so good that tears prick at the corners of your eyes. 

You quickly take another bite, and another, ignoring the lump in your throat.

Jay watches you quietly, his gaze flicking to your small, trembling hands. His eyes catch on the scars peeking out from your sleeves as your sweater rides up.

"So, where are you from? It's my first time seeing you here! Jay's always bringing friends over—so many faces!" His mother's voice was cheerful, her smile warm and inviting.

"I'm from Las Vegas," you replied, keeping your eyes on your empty plate. You didn't want to talk, but her energy made it hard to ignore her.

Your gaze shifted to Jay as he leaned over, silently placing more food onto your plate.

"Oh, Las Vegas!" His mom exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "What made you settle here in Seattle? Life is so exciting over there! So bright and lively!"

"Not really," you said, inhaling sharply as you tried to keep your tone even. The last thing you wanted was to go deeper into that conversation.

She didn't seem to notice your discomfort. "Oh, I see. Well, what do your parents do for a living?"

You froze. The fork in your hand stilled as memories rushed back like a tidal wave.

The screams. The blood. The way your parents looked at you, their faces twisted in pain as you hid, trembling in the cabinet.

"They're dead," you said bluntly, gripping your fork so tightly your knuckles turned white.

The room seemed to grow quieter. His mother's cheerful expression faltered. "Pardon?"

"They're de—" you started, but the words caught in your throat. Your pulse quickened, your chest tightening, and before you could finish, Jay cut in.

"It's already almost 7:00," he said quickly, "Didn't you say you have a shift?"

You looked at him, startled. His gaze met yours, and for the first time, his ever-present smile was gone. Instead, his eyes were steady, watching you carefully, like he knew you were unraveling and didn't want to make it worse.

You took the excuse without hesitation. "Yeah," you muttered, shoving your chair back as you stood. "I should go."

His mom looked like she wanted to say something, but Jay rose from his seat, cutting her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll walk her out," he said softly.

"Thank you for the food, Mrs. Park," you smiled, trying to look natural, bowing at her. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, refusing to look back at the table, at the food, at his mother's concerned face. Your throat burned as you fought the tears threatening to spill over.

Jay followed you silently as you stepped into the hallway. Once you were out of earshot, he finally spoke.

"You didn't have to answer her," he said gently.

You stopped in your tracks, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "I didn't want to," you said flatly, your voice trembling just a little. "But people always ask. Like they have the right to know."

Jay didn't respond immediately. When you glanced at him, he looked... softer, his usual brightness dimmed with something quieter. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and careful. "She didn't mean anything by it. My mom's just... the type to ask questions. She doesn't think it'll hurt anyone."

"Yeah, well, it does," you snapped, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. Your voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet hallway. But Jay didn't flinch. He just nodded, that same calm expression on his face, like he understood.

And for some reason, that made you angrier.

Your bag strap digging into your shoulder as you stared at him. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. Your chest burned with frustration, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You weren't sure what you were mad at—his mom's question, his calm demeanor, or the fact that he kept pretending to get you when he didn't.

The words tumbled out. "What are your thoughts about the Purge, Jay?"

Jay's eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden question. He hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he was carefully picking his words.

"I—I don't agree with it," he said finally, his voice quiet..

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "You don't agree with it?" you repeated, mocking his tone.

"That's rich. The Purge is the reason why you're making money, Jay. It's why your family's living in that giant house with your shiny vases and fancy barricades."

Jay blinked, visibly taken aback. "That's not fair," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising.

"Your dad's company makes barricades, doesn't it? Every year, people like you get richer while people like me..." You trailed off, shaking your head as your throat tightened. "You don't get to sit there and say you don't agree with it. Not when your family profits from it."

Jay's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

"And you know what's funny?" you continued, the bitterness spilling out of you now. "You probably spend Purge night in your fortress of a house, watching movies or playing board games with your family while the rest of us are out there dying. You don't even have to think about it, do you?"

"That's not true," Jay said quietly, his hands clenching at his sides. "I do think about it."

"Oh, do you?" you snapped, glaring at him. "What, do you spend a whole five minutes feeling bad for people like me before you go back to your perfect little life?"

"That's not what I—" Jay started, but you cut him off.

"You don't get it, Jay," you said, your voice trembling now, anger and exhaustion mixing into a volatile cocktail. "You'll never get it. You don't know what it's like to be hunted like an animal while people laugh. So don't stand there and tell me you 'don't agree with it,' because that doesn't mean anything coming from you."

Jay looked like he wanted to say something—his mouth opened, but no words came out. His shoulders slumped slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw guilt flash across his face.

"I'm sorry," Jay said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You froze, your anger faltering for a moment as his words sunk in. Your chest tightened, and your eyes softened just slightly, guilt prickling at the edges of your mind. What were you even doing?

But the shame and bitterness were too much to face. You turned away quickly, your voice small and strained. "I'm sorry... I should go," you murmured, gripping the strap of your bag as you hurried to leave.

Jay didn't stop you. He just watched your retreating figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. As the door clicked shut behind you, he sat down heavily, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how. And the way you looked at him, like he was the problem, made it feel impossible.

The weeks passed in a blur of survival and self-destruction. Bullets were fucking expensive. Even knives cost more than you expected, and every penny you earned disappeared the moment it hit your hands. Life was getting harder.

The monster inside you—was growing louder, feeding off your exhaustion and anger.

At night, when you weren't working, you trained yourself obsessively. Watching documentaries on how to kill someone. Studying anatomy. Practicing with your weapons until your hands were blistered and shaking. 

You didn't care if your body couldn't take it anymore. Pain didn't matter. Hunger didn't matter. Nothing mattered except being ready.

But as the weeks dragged on, it became harder to keep going.

Your hoodie, the one you wore every day like a second skin, was filthy and smelled of sweat and exhaustion. Your body was sore in every possible way.

Your reflection in the mirror was worse than before—hollow eyes, sallow skin, dark circles so deep. And every time you saw yourself, you thought the same thing.

You just want to die already.

One night, your phone buzzed. It was a message from Jay.

"Y/N, I'm sorry to bother you, but you haven't been coming to class. I can handle most of the project on my own, but for this reporting, I really need your presence."

You stared at the message for a long time, debating whether to ignore it. But something in you caved. Maybe it was guilt. You replied: "Okay. I'll come."

Jay welcomed you into his house again, you ended up on his bed, laptop in your lap as you both worked on the PowerPoint for your report. The room was quiet except for the sound of typing, but every movement felt like a struggle. Your body ached. Your head throbbed. You could barely focus, and every second felt like a fight to stay upright.

It wasn't long before your body gave up.

The laptop slipped from your lap, crashing to the floor as your vision blurred. The last thing you heard before everything went dark was Jay's panicked voice calling your name.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was a white ceiling. 

The faint smell of alcohol and disinfectant filled the air, and the sharp tug of a needle in your arm made you realize you were hooked up to an IV. An oxygen tube rested under your nose, and your body felt impossibly heavy, as if all the exhaustion you'd been ignoring had finally caught up with you.

Your gaze drifted down to your body—and then you saw it.

You were wearing a hospital gown.

Panic gripped you instantly. Your chest tightened, your breathing quickening as your hands clawed at the fabric.

"No, no, no," you whispered, your voice trembling as your heart pounded in your ears.

Memories of hands grabbing at you, tearing at your clothes, flashed through your mind like lightning. You gasped for air, a faint scream slipping from your lips.

Jay jolted awake from the chair beside you, his eyes wide with alarm.

"W-what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with panic. He moved closer, his hands hovering uncertainly like he wasn't sure if he should touch you.

"H-hoodie," you stammered, gripping his arm with weak, trembling hands. Your nails dug into his skin. "Need to cover. Ugly. Ugly."

Jay winced at the pain but didn't pull away. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said gently, his voice calm and soothing. "You're okay. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."

"No," you whimpered, shaking your head as tears streamed down your face. "I'm ugly. Don't look." Your hands fumbled to pull the gown tighter around you, but it didn't help. You could feel the scars beneath it—the raised lines.

Jay hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out to cover your hands with his. His touch was warm, steady, and he squeezed your fingers just enough to ground you.

"You're not ugly," he said softly, his tone so sincere it made your chest ache.

You shook your head again, your voice breaking as panic surged through you. "You don't understand. You don't know what they did to me. What I look like—"

"Calm down," Jay interrupted, his voice steady but still gentle, as if he were trying to anchor you to the moment.

He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly to the side, a gesture meant to reassure you. "I'm not looking, okay? I'm not looking."

His words made you pause, your breathing still uneven but slowing just a little as you clung to his arm. The panic was still there, buzzing under your skin, but his calmness was starting to chip away at it, little by little.

"You're safe now," Jay said, his tone softer this time, "and you're not alone, okay? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Just calm down, breathe in, breathe out. You can do this."

You tried to follow his instructions, inhaling shakily and letting the air out in uneven bursts. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to keep you grounded, enough to stop the tears blurring your vision completely.

Jay's hand was warm against yours, his fingers gentle but firm as he held on. "What do you want me to get?" he asked softly, his voice careful, his head still turned slightly away so you wouldn't feel watched.

"My hoodie," you whispered, your voice weak and pleading. "I need it. Please."

Jay glanced at the IV in your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You have an IV in your skin," he said quietly. "It's still not okay for you to wear your hoodie yet. If you pull at it, you could hurt yourself."

You looked away, shame and frustration boiling under your skin, your fingers gripping the hospital blanket tightly. "I don't care," you mumbled, your voice trembling.

Jay sighed softly, squeezing your hand again to ground you. "I know you don't feel comfortable," he said, his tone gentle but firm, "but if it's too hot or heavy right now, I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to put it on."

You clenched your jaw, swallowing back another wave of tears. "I just—I need to cover up," you said, your voice breaking again.

Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said carefully, "if you're not comfortable in the gown, I can get you a long-sleeve nightgown instead. Something softer. Something that'll cover your arms. Is that what you want?"

You glanced at him, your lip trembling, and nodded weakly. "Yeah," you whispered, barely audible.

Jay gave your hand one last gentle squeeze before slowly standing up. "I'll go ask the nurses," he said softly.

Days had passed, and Jay had stayed by your side, refusing to leave, despite how much of a burden you felt like.

He wasn't overbearing or hovering—just quietly there, helping you in any way he could.

He brought you meals, water, even helped you comb through your disheveled hair when your strength failed you. He didn't ask questions about what happened, didn't demand explanations.

His mother visited often, sweeping into the room with an energy that made your chest ache. She came with baskets of fruit, flowers, and small gifts, her arms overflowing like she was trying to smother you with kindness.

On one visit, she hugged you tightly, tears in her eyes, and said, "You need to take better care of yourself, sweetheart. Your life is precious."

Her words pierced through you, bringing a lump to your throat. You didn't have the heart to respond, just nodded, even though deep down you still didn't believe her.

Jay's friends, Sunoo and Ni-ki, had even come to visit. Despite the fact that they didn't know you at all, they acted like you were an old friend.

They brought a snake and ladder board game, and before you knew it, they were sitting cross-legged on your hospital bed, loudly cheering, groaning, and playfully arguing over the dice rolls. Their laughter filled the room, echoing against the sterile walls and spilling over the edges of your heart.

At first, you just watched them silently, your hands resting in your lap, unsure of how to react. But as the game went on, you found yourself drawn in—your dead eyes softening as you watched them bicker like kids, a faint half-smile tugging at your lips.

For the first time in what felt like years, you felt something other than pain. Just a flicker, but it was there. A tiny seed of happiness.

"What do you want to eat today?" Jay asked, smiling as he sat at the edge of your bed, peeling an apple with practiced ease.

"I want rice cakes!" Ni-ki chimed in, raising his hand like an excited child.

Sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, crossing his arms. "Yuck! We had rice cakes yesterday!"

Their back-and-forth made you chuckle softly, a sound you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time.

But later, when the room grew quiet again, and it was just you and Jay, that flicker of happiness gave way to something heavier. Guilt.

You glanced at Jay as he sat by the window, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. His face was relaxed, the sunlight catching the soft angles of his features. He had done so much for you—things he didn't have to do. And all this time, you had hated him. Misunderstood him.

You had assumed the worst of him, just because he was rich.

You had lumped him in with the monsters who had ruined your life, convinced yourself that he was just another spoiled, privileged kid who wouldn't understand what suffering felt like. But the truth was... he wasn't.

He wasn't the people who had hunted you, mocked you, stripped you of your humanity. He wasn't the people who laughed behind masks, thriving on fear and violence.

Jay had done nothing but help you, even when you were rude to him, even when you pushed him away.

And yet, the guilt didn't erase your pain. It didn't undo your trauma or silence the nightmares that still haunted you.

You still hated the world that allowed the Purge to exist. You still hated the memories that burned like fire in your veins. You still hated yourself for being weak, for surviving when your parents hadn't.

But you didn't hate Jay anymore.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, breaking the silence.

Jay looked up, tilting his head in confusion. "For what?"

"For... for how I treated you," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "For assuming things about you just because of where you come from. I thought you wouldn't care. That you couldn't understand. But... you're not like them."

Jay's expression softened, a small, almost sad smile tugging at his lips. "You don't have to apologize for that," he said gently. "You've been through hell. I get why you'd feel that way."

You shook your head, gripping the blanket tightly in your hands. "No, you don't get it. I was cruel to you. I blamed you for things that weren't your fault."

Jay was quiet for a moment, then reached out, resting a hand over yours.

His touch was warm, steady, grounding. "I'm not perfect," he said softly, his tone sincere. "I won't pretend to know what you've been through. But I want to help."

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill over again. You didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded, gripping his hand. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to trust someone. Even if it was just a little.

"The doctor said you have anemia and osteoporosis," Jay's mother said gently, setting her bag down on the small table beside your hospital bed.

"That's why your bones are weak! You'll need to eat more foods with calcium and iron to build your strength and get your blood count higher. We'll make sure you have everything you need."

You stared at her, unsure how to respond. Guilt curled in your stomach, gnawing at you. You weren't her child. You weren't even close to being part of her world. And yet, here she was, treating you so good.

"The hospital bill is covered," she continued, her voice casual, like it wasn't a big deal. But to you, it was.

It was a huge deal. The cost of staying in a place like this was something you couldn't even fathom. You'd spent years scraping by, eating leftovers just to save a few bucks, and here she was, brushing off what could've been months—maybe years—of your income.

"You don't need to worry about it," she added, her smile soft and reassuring. "Just focus on getting better. Jay's friend is also my priority."

Jay's friend.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You weren't his friend. You didn't deserve to be called that, not after the way you'd treated him.

"Thank you," you murmured finally, your voice barely audible. It was all you could manage without breaking down entirely.

Jay's mom smiled wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she said, reaching out to gently pat your hand. "Now, tell me—what's your favorite food? I'll have the kitchen prepare something special for you."

You blinked, caught off guard by her kindness. "I... I don't really have one," you admitted quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

It wasn't a lie. You hadn't thought about things like "favorite food" in years. Food, for you, had been about survival, not enjoyment.

"Well, then we'll just have to find one for you," she said, her tone cheerful and determined. "I'll have the staff make a variety of dishes for you to try. And don't worry—if there's anything you don't like, we'll keep trying until we find something you love."

Her words left you speechless. All you could do was nod, the weight of her generosity pressing down on you. It felt so foreign, so undeserved, and yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt... cared for.

Jay, who had been quietly peeling an orange in the corner, finally spoke up. "Mom, don't overwhelm her," he said softly, his eyes flicking to yours. "She's still recovering."

You glanced at him, your gaze lingering for a moment longer than you intended.

His mother waved him off with a laugh. "Oh, hush, Jay. I'm just trying to help." She turned back to you, her smile never faltering. "You're part of our family now, okay? At least while you're here. So don't be shy about asking for anything."

Her words made something in your chest tighten. You nodded again, unable to trust your voice.

Jay's mother spent hours at your bedside, chatting away. She told you stories about Jay's childhood—how he once tried to "fix" a birdhouse with peanut butter, or how he dressed up as a firefighter for three Halloweens in a row because he was so obsessed with the uniform.

Jay groaned beside her, his face flushed as he waved her off. "Mom, stop! She doesn't need to know all of that!" he whined, his voice high with embarrassment.

But his mother only laughed, brushing him off with a playful wave. "Oh, hush, Jay. She needs to know how adorable you used to be!"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly, your lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.

Eventually, Jay's mother had to leave, something about a business emergency pulling her away. She hugged you gently before she left, squeezing your hands and promising to visit again soon.

"Take care of yourself, sweetheart," she said with a warm smile. "And if Jay gives you any trouble, let me know."

"I'm right here," Jay muttered, rolling his eyes but grinning all the same.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell quiet again. You and Jay were alone, the silence settling between you like a soft blanket.

"Have you showered?" Jay asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.

You shook your head, feeling a little self-conscious. It had been days since you'd had the energy to even think about something like that.

"Do you want to?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded hesitantly.

Jay smiled, standing up to grab a towel from his bag. He returned a moment later, his hand extended to you. "Come on," he said softly, his voice warm and encouraging.

You placed your hand in his, and he guided you carefully out of the bed. But as soon as your feet touched the ground, your knees buckled beneath you, the strength in your legs giving out entirely.

"Whoa!" Jay exclaimed, catching you before you could fall. Without hesitation, he slipped your arm around his neck, his other arm sliding under your legs.

"I've got you," he murmured as he lifted you effortlessly.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't protest as he carried you to the bathroom. His touch was steady, his arms warm and reassuring as he placed you gently into the tub.

"Do you want me to call a nurse to help you?" Jay asked, crouching in front of you. His voice was careful, like he was trying not to overstep.

You shook your head quickly. The idea of a stranger cleaning you—seeing you—made your stomach churn with discomfort. "I'm not comfortable," you said quietly, looking away.

Jay nodded, his brows furrowed slightly in thought. He didn't push or suggest anything else. He just waited, watching you carefully.

And then, before you could stop yourself, you looked up and met his gaze. "Can you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay's eyes widened in surprise, his ears turning red as your words sunk in. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone soft but serious. "Are you comfortable with me?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. You didn't know why you asked him. Maybe it was because he was the only one who had seen your broken pieces and didn't turn away. Maybe it was because, despite everything, you trusted him.

Jay hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the redness creeping up his neck.

Your hands trembled slightly as you began to strip off the hospital gown, letting it fall away from your shoulders.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your chest tightening as the scars on your body were laid bare—scars from knives, from bullets, from cigarette burns that had long since healed but never truly faded.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

You finally glanced up at Jay, only to see his face frozen in a mixture of sadness and anger. His jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His eyes weren't looking at you with disgust or pity—just pain. Pain that you couldn't quite understand.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking. You quickly crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself, to hide the ugly truth of what had been done to you.

"Don't apologize," Jay said softly, his voice strained but firm. He crouched lower, his gaze meeting yours. "You don't have to apologize for this. None of this is your fault."

You bit your lip, tears welling in your eyes as you looked away. "It's ugly," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I'm ugly."

"No, you're not," Jay said immediately. "Don't ever say that. Don't ever think that."

Jay begins to open the faucet, filling the tub. You felt his hand gently rest on your shoulder, his touch so light it was almost like a question. "These scars," he continued, his voice softening, "they're not ugly. They're proof that you survived."

You turned back to him, tears spilling over as his words sank in. His gaze didn't waver, didn't falter. There was no judgment in his eyes, only sincerity.

His hands were gentle as he worked, brushing over your skin with careful precision, the towel soaking up water from your arms, your back, every part of you. Each movement was measured, respectful, almost as though he was afraid of breaking you.

The silence was heavy but not uncomfortable. Still, the question burned on your tongue, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Jay froze for the briefest of moments, his hands stilling as he rinsed the washcloth. Then he gently reached for your hair, lathering shampoo between his fingers before carefully massaging it into your scalp.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked softly, his tone calm, but you could hear the edge of emotion beneath it.

You tilted your head slightly, his fingers never missing a beat as they worked through your tangled hair. 

"Because... people don't just help without a reason," you muttered, your voice barely audible. "Are you pitying me?"

Jay's hands stilled again, his fingers pausing in your hair. For a moment, you regretted asking, but then he sighed softly, his hands resuming their slow, soothing motions.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not helping you because I pity you."

"Then why?" you pressed, your voice cracking as the question spilled out of you. "Why are you doing all this? Why do you care?"

Jay rinsed the shampoo from your hair, his hands tilting your head back slightly so the water wouldn't get in your eyes. He stayed silent for a moment, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"Because you deserve to be cared for," he said finally, his voice almost a whisper.

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You stared at the tiled wall, unable to respond as your throat tightened and your eyes began to sting.

"I'm not doing this out of pity," Jay continued, his voice soft but insistent. "I'm doing this because I want to."

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. His words felt foreign, like they didn't belong to you. Like they were meant for someone else, someone who deserved kindness.

"But I'm broken," you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips. "You don't understand. I'm not... I'm not normal."

Jay's hands paused again, and for a moment, you thought he might agree with you. But instead, he leaned forward slightly, his voice so soft it almost didn't reach you.

"Who cares about 'normal'?" he asked gently, smiling at you.

His words made your chest ache, a strange, unfamiliar warmth blooming beneath the pain. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything. Instead, you let him finish rinsing your hair, his touch as careful as ever.

Jay stayed quiet for a moment, his hand gripping the soap, before his soft voice broke the silence. "Let me brush your body, hmm? Are you okay with that?"

You looked up at him, your eyes still glossy from earlier tears. He was smiling, It was softer, almost hesitant, like he was giving you all the space in the world to say no.

For a second, your chest tightened again. But then you wiped at your tears, nodding, a small, watery laugh slipping from your lips. "Yeah, okay."

Jay let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he dipped the soap into the water, creating a soft lather. "You don't need to apologize," he said after a moment.

But you shook your head, tears spilling over again as the words tumbled out. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "For being a burden. For being weak."

But Jay stopped what he was doing, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Showing vulnerability isn't weakness," he said softly, his voice steady but warm. "Don't say you're a burden when you're not."

You finally looked at him, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his gaze.

You spent almost a month in the hospital, longer than you ever thought you'd stay. There were stretches of time when you were alone, the quiet pressing against you like a heavy blanket.

Jay still had to attend his classes during the day, and you hated how much that relieved you. Being around him, around his patience and kindness, was almost too much to bear. It made the guilt twist deeper into your chest.

But every night, without fail, Jay came back. He'd shuffle in, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and his face drawn with exhaustion.

No matter how tired he was, he'd sit beside you for a while, asking how your day had been, what you'd eaten, or if you needed anything.

Then, when he couldn't fight the fatigue anymore, he'd curl up on the couch, a thin blanket thrown over him, and fall asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand.

You'd watch him sometimes, your chest tightening at the sight of him.

Jay's mother visited often, breezing into the room with her warm smile and bags full of food. "You need to eat this," she'd say, setting down a steaming dish in front of you. "It'll help your bones."

The next day, it was something new: "This will boost your blood count!" she'd exclaim, watching eagerly as you took hesitant bites.

At first, you forced yourself to eat out of politeness, but slowly, you began to notice things.

You realized you liked gimbap—the way the rice was soft and slightly sweet, the seaweed wrapping it all together. You discovered new juices and found yourself craving strawberry milkshake more than anything else.

Jay's mom always noticed. "Strawberry milkshake, hmm?" she teased one afternoon, her smile playful. "I'll make sure to bring more tomorrow."

The warmth of her attention and care settled uncomfortably in your chest. You didn't know how to handle it, didn't know what to do with the kindness she gave so freely. It was foreign, and it made the guilt inside you grow.

After weeks of lying in bed, your body weak and fragile, the day finally came when you managed to stand on your own two feet. It wasn't easy. Your legs shook, your grip on the metal IV stand so tight your knuckles turned white, but you did it. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of pride.

But then you looked down at yourself. Your pale, almost sickly skin stretched over your bony frame. Faint bruises marred your knees and legs.

You hated looking at yourself like this—so helpless, so exposed.

Your fingers trembled as you tightened your grip on the IV stand, leaning against it for support. Every movement felt slow and deliberate, like your body was relearning how to move after months of stillness. You shuffled to the calendar pinned on the wall, each step sending a dull ache through your legs, but you pushed through it.

December 13.

You stared at the date, your chest tightening as the weight of it settled on you. Three months. Three months until the Purge.

Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, as if trying to steady the rising wave of anxiety building inside you. You swallowed hard, your throat dry and tight. The memories began creeping in, uninvited, flashing behind your eyes like fragments of a nightmare you could never escape.

You shook your head, closing your eyes to block it out, but it didn't help. The thought was already there, rooting itself firmly in your mind.

You couldn't go back to the same cycle of fear, of waiting for someone to find you, to break you all over again.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to steady your breathing, gripping the IV stand as it was the only thing keeping you upright. You felt caught in between two versions of yourself—the girl who cowered in fear, and the one who had spent months preparing to become something worse.

"You're standing."

The voice startled you, and you turned your head sharply, your grip tightening on the IV stand.

Jay was standing at the doorway, his hand on the handle, staring at you with that familiar wide smile that somehow made the heaviness in the room feel a little lighter.

"My mother said you like strawberry milkshake, so I brought you one," he said, stepping inside and walking toward you, his eyes soft with pride as he glanced at your trembling legs. "Here, let me help."

Before you could say anything, Jay gently took your hand and guided you back to the bed,

"I think I should discharge," you said quietly, the words barely escaping your lips.

Jay blinked, his smile fading slightly. "Why? You're not well yet. Are you thinking about the bills? You shouldn't. I told you, that's already taken care of."

You shook your head, staring at the strawberry milkshake in his hand as he popped the straw into the cup. He handed it to you, the smell of sweet strawberries wafting up and tempting your senses, but you couldn't focus on it.

"The Purge," you said finally, your voice trembling as you gripped the cup tightly, your knuckles turning white. "It's coming again."

Jay froze for a moment, his expression softening as he crouched down in front of you, his eyes level with yours. You could feel his gaze searching your face, waiting for you to continue.

"They... they're coming," you mumbled, your voice breaking. Your chest started to rise and fall rapidly, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "I don't know what they'll do this time."

Jay reached out instinctively, his hand resting gently on top of yours, steadying the trembling that had begun to spread through your fingers.

"They always find me. No matter where I go. They... they enjoy it. It's a game to them." Jay's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he listened.

"They won't find you this time," he said firmly, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "I won't let them."

You stared at him, your chest tightening as you tried to find the words to respond. Instead, you looked down at the strawberry milkshake in your hand, the straw still untouched. Slowly, you brought it to your lips, taking a small sip. The sweet, familiar taste spread across your tongue, and for just a moment.

Jay stayed crouched in front of you, his hand still resting lightly on yours as he watched your expression soften just slightly after taking a sip of the strawberry milkshake.

"Y/N," Jay said after a pause, his voice careful.

You glanced at him, your grip tightening slightly around the cup in your hands. "What is it?"

Jay shifted, sitting back on his heels but keeping his gaze level with yours. "Have you ever thought about talking to someone? You know, a therapist? Someone who might be able to help with... everything you've been through."

Your breath hitched, and you stiffened slightly, your shoulders tensing as the words sank in. "I don't need that," you muttered quickly, looking away from him. "I'm fine."

Jay tilted his head slightly, his expression soft but unconvinced. "I don't think you're fine," he said gently, his tone lacking any hint of judgment. "And that's okay. You don't have to be fine. After what you've been through... no one would expect you to be."

Your chest tightened, your fingers digging into the cup as you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. "I don't want to talk about it," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "Talking won't change anything. It won't make the memories go away."

"I know," Jay said softly. "It won't erase what happened. But maybe it could help you carry it. You've been carrying all of this alone for so long, Y/N. Maybe it's time to let someone else help."

"I can't," you whispered, shaking your head. "I don't know how to... to say it out loud. I don't even know where I'd start."

Jay's hand tightened slightly on yours, grounding you as he leaned closer. "You don't have to start anywhere specific," he said quietly.

"You just have to take it one step at a time. They won't push you to talk about anything you're not ready for. It's not about fixing everything all at once—it's about helping you find a way to live with it."

You looked at him, your vision blurred by unshed tears, and for a moment, you hated how much his words made sense. You hated how right he was, how kind he was being, how much he cared when you weren't sure you deserved it.

"I don't know," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I can do it."

Jay nodded, his eyes warm and understanding. "That's okay," he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring.

"You don't have to decide right now," he continued, his hand lightly squeezing yours. "I just want you to know it's an option. And if you ever want to try, I'll be there with you. I'll help you find someone. You don't have to do it alone."

You stared at him, his words settling in your heart like a soft weight. Slowly, you nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered,

January came, and you were finally discharged from the hospital. It felt strange being back in the world after so much time spent in bed, but Jay made it easier.

In the weeks after your release, you returned to your small apartment, but more often than not, you found yourself spending your nights at Jay's home.

His mother insisted, always greeting you with a warm smile and asking how you were feeling. "It's better to keep an eye on you," she'd say, ushering you to the dinner table, where she'd pile your plate with food.

You had stopped studying, deciding to focus on working full-time instead. Jay had suggested a restaurant he knew, and before long, you found yourself settling into a routine. The work was tiring, but it kept your mind busy, and slowly, the spark in your eyes began to return.

Your nightmares didn't disappear, but they became easier to bear with Jay by your side. Whenever you woke up crying, shaking from the images that haunted you, he was always there.

"Shhh, it's okay," he'd whisper, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. His chest was warm and steady against your cheek, and his hand would rub soothing circles on your back as he whispered, "I'm here, love. I've got you."

You didn't know where he got his patience. No matter how many times you woke him in the middle of the night, trembling and crying, he never got frustrated. He never made you feel like a burden.

And maybe that's why, before you even realized it, you fell in love with him.

It wasn't a dramatic realization—no grand moment or spark. It was slow and steady, like the warmth he gave you every day. It was in the way he smiled at you, in the way he stayed even when he didn't have to.

You wanted to be better for him. You wanted to be strong—not just for yourself, but for him, too. That's when you decided to take his advice. You were going to try and talk to a therapist.

One evening, you were lying on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. His hand played idly with your hair, his fingers brushing through the strands like it was second nature. The room was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the heater, and you felt so at ease it was almost strange.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. His eyes were closed, his lips relaxed in a small, peaceful smile. Something about the moment felt so natural, so intimate, that it made your heart swell.

Without really thinking, you leaned closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You felt him shift slightly beneath you, but he didn't stop you. The warmth of his skin was comforting, and before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed a soft kiss to his neck.

You felt his body tense under you, his breath hitching ever so slightly. His fingers froze in your hair, and for a moment, you thought you'd made a mistake.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and shaky, like he wasn't sure what to say.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his wide eyes, your cheeks burning. "I—" you started, but the words caught in your throat.

Jay's lips parted, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

You bit your lip, "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His expression softened immediately, his fingers brushing your cheek. "Don't be," he said gently. "Just... tell me. Is this what you want?"

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding again. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling.

Jay's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath apart. "Me too," he whispered, and then he kissed you.

It was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid of breaking the moment, but when you kissed him back, his grip on you tightened slightly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling the back of your head.

Your tongue traced a slow, deliberate line down to his neck, and when you sucked gently at the sensitive skin there, he groaned, low and deep, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice shaky as his hands found their way to your waist. You grabbed them, guiding them more firmly against your body as you shifted, straddling his lap.

Jay's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his gaze darkened, his lips parting slightly as you leaned down to kiss him again. This time, the kiss wasn't soft —it was full of need, your lips moving hungrily against his as your hips rolled against him.

You gasped into his mouth, the heat pooling low in your stomach as you felt the tension building between you. Your breath came in heavy pants as you pulled back just enough to whisper, "I love you."

Jay's hands slid under your clothes, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist. His touch was warm.

"I love you," he said back, his voice low and full of something raw, his head tilting back slightly as your movements sent a shiver through him.

You didn't stop. Your hips pressed into him again, a slow, deliberate grind that made him bite back a groan, his head falling back further as his grip on your waist tightened. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pausing as his eyes met yours again. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice laced with tenderness.

You nodded, your heart racing as he carefully lifted the shirt over your head. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and you felt a familiar pang of self-consciousness.

You instinctively moved to cover yourself, your arms wrapping around your torso, but Jay stopped you gently, his hands warm and steady as they held yours.

"Don't hide," he whispered, his voice so soft it made your chest ache. "Please don't hide from me."

Your breath hitched as his hands released yours, moving slowly to trace the lines of one of the scars on your shoulder. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the scar on your shoulder, the gesture so tender it sent a jolt through your entire body.

 He kissed it again, slower this time, before moving to another scar on your arm, his lips lingering as if to erase the pain it carried.

You couldn't stop the tears that spilled over, your hands trembling as they clutched at his shoulders. "Jay..." you whispered, your voice cracking.

"I see you," he murmured against your skin, his hands steady as they held your waist. "I see all of you, and I love every part of you."

His lips brushed against the scar on your collarbone, then another on your ribs, each kiss more deliberate than the last.

Jay's eyes softened as he whispered, "You're so beautiful, I love you."

The sincerity in his words made your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You didn't know how to respond, your chest tightening with emotions too overwhelming to name. Instead, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that spoke all the words you couldn't say.

His hands slid up your back, his touch firm yet tender as he pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, his lips moving against yours with a passion that sent heat coursing through your veins.

Then, with a flick of his fingers, you felt the clasp of your bra come undone. The cool air brushed against your skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his hand cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, teasing and flicking it in a way that made your back arch involuntarily. Jay groaned against your mouth, the sound low and deep, sending a wave of desire pooling low in your stomach.

He gently guided you to lay down, his lips never leaving yours until he moved to your jawline, then your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake. 

He stopped at your left breast, his warm breath ghosting over your skin before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently.

The sensation made you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, while his right hand gripped your other breast, kneading it with just the right amount of pressure.

You let your head fall back, lost in the feeling, soft moans spilling from your lips as your body responded to his every touch. His name escaped your lips like a prayer, and he hummed against your skin, the vibrations adding to the heat building within you.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his right hand began to travel lower. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, and you felt his touch move in slow, deliberate circles.

A gasp tore from your throat as his fingers teased you, his touch light but enough to make your hips lift in desperation. "Jay," you breathed, your voice trembling with need, your body aching for more.

"You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice rough and heavy with desire. His lips returned to yours, as his fingers continued their slow, torturous motion, building a fire within you that you couldn't extinguish.

When his finger slowly slid inside you, your breath hitched, your chest pressing into his as you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alive with heat as he moved inside you, testing your limits.

Jay's forehead rested against yours, his breath heavy and warm against your lips. "I'm going to add another one, baby," he said, his voice low and filled with lust. "Can you take it?"

You nodded quickly, your hands clutching at him, your voice trembling as you whispered, "I can take it for you."

He groaned at your words, his jaw tightening as he stared at you with darkened eyes. "Fuck, don't say stuff like that," he muttered, his voice almost a growl.

Without wasting another second, he slid a second finger inside you, stretching you in a way that made your back arch. The pace of his movements quickened, the slick sound of his fingers filling the room as your walls clenched around him. The pleasure built fast, sharp and electric, making your breath come out in broken gasps.

Jay leaned down, his lips trailing along your collarbone, then down to your chest again. His mouth latched onto your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple, adding another layer of sensation that made your head spin.

"Jay," you whimpered, your hips moving on their own, grinding into his hand as his fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind your eyes.

"You're so good," he murmured against your skin, his free hand gripping your waist to keep you steady as his mouth moved between your breasts, leaving heated kisses in his wake.

"I'm gonna cum," you whined, your voice high and desperate as the pressure in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter.

Jay didn't let up. His tongue teased your nipple, licking it in slow, deliberate strokes that made you shudder, while his thumb suddenly found your clit, pressing and rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his fingers.

The combination was too much. Your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure crashed over you in waves. "Jay!" you sobbed, your hips lifting off the bed as your orgasm hit, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.

He didn't stop right away, his fingers and thumb slowing just enough to help you ride out the high, his lips never leaving your skin. "That's it," he whispered, his voice full of pride and adoration. "You're so beautiful like this."

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. When his fingers finally slipped out of you, you whimpered softly, feeling the loss of his touch.

Jay kissed your forehead gently, his hands soothing over your sides as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice soft again, filled with affection. "I've got you."

"I was preparing for the Purge this year," you said quietly, staring at your hands instead of your therapist, Ms. Jisoo.

"A self-defense plan, or something more?" she asked gently. There was no judgment in her voice, just calm curiosity.

"Something more," you admitted, biting your lip as your fingers fidgeted in your lap.

Ms. Jisoo nodded softly, giving you space to speak. "Do you still think about it now, after falling in love?"

You paused, her question lingering in your mind. "I don't know," you said after a moment. "I've been so focused on him... on how he makes me feel. The only thing I know for sure is I want to be a better person for him. Not... this."

You hesitated, your voice trembling. "Not some mentally unstable girl who can't even sleep through the night without waking up screaming."

Your chest tightened as the words left you, the guilt clawing at your throat.

Ms. Jisoo leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle and steady. "Wanting to heal for someone you love is a wonderful thing, Y/N. But it's okay to want to heal for yourself too. That doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."

Her words softened something in your chest, but the guilt was still there, heavy and sharp. You bit your lip harder, tears welling in your eyes.

"D-Do you think I'm a monster?" you asked suddenly, your voice breaking. "For thinking about purging this year? For even wanting it?" You finally looked up at her, tears spilling as you waited for the answer you feared most.

Ms. Jisoo's expression stayed calm, warm, and understanding. "You're not a monster," she said gently, her voice soft as she stares at you.

"You're someone who's been hurt. Someone who's been through things no one should ever have to experience. It's okay to feel angry. It's okay to feel hate. Those feelings don't make you a monster. They make you human."

"But they feel so wrong," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "Wanting it feels wrong."

"They're not wrong or right," she said softly. "They're just feelings."

You sniffled, wiping at your face with trembling hands, but her words didn't fully settle the storm inside you. After a moment, you looked back at her, hesitating before asking the question that had been on your mind for so long.

"Do you... agree with the Purge?"

Ms. Jisoo blinked, caught off guard by the question. She leaned back slightly, her hands folding in her lap as she thought about her answer.

"No," she said after a moment, "I don't. I don't think violence solves anything. And I don't think people should have the right to hurt others, no matter what the law says. The Purge... it brings out the worst in people. It allows fear and hate to fester. And I've seen how much it hurts people—people like you."

Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward slightly, her tone quiet. "But I also understand why you feel the way you do. The Purge forces people to live in fear, to carry anger and pain that they shouldn't have to carry. It's normal to feel conflicted. It's normal to feel angry."

You swallowed hard, her words sinking into you like drops of water on dry ground. "So... I'm not wrong for feeling like this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"No," she said firmly. "You're not wrong. You're human, Y/N. And humans feel messy, complicated things. There's no shame in that."

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what to do with myself. I keep thinking and thinking about what I should do to live freely... but nothing feels right."

Ms. Jisoo smiled gently, her expression steady and reassuring. "It's okay to feel lost, Y/N. Healing doesn't come with a map or a timeline. But you're taking steps forward, even if they're small. Just keep going. You'll find your way."

By the middle of February, your days had settled into a rhythm. You managed your job at the restaurant, worked through your therapy sessions every week, and spent most of your free time with Jay and his mother.

Their home felt warm, almost like a haven, and you found yourself doing small things to show your gratitude—buying Jay his favorite snacks, surprising his mom with flowers or something she'd mentioned in passing.

They never expected anything in return for their kindness, but doing those little things made you feel like you were giving back in some small way.

One evening, the restaurant was hosting a group of high-class businesspeople who had reserved the entire dining area. The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the expensive suits and gleaming jewelry making you feel out of place as you carried trays of food to their table.

As you placed the dishes on the table, your eyes drifted to a middle-aged blonde woman sitting at the center. Her hair was perfectly styled, her tailored suit fitting her like it had been made just for her. She held a glass of wine delicately, twirling it in her hand as she laughed with the others.

Your breath hitched.

A memory slammed into you with the force of a freight train.

Gunshots. Screams. Blood splattered across the ground. You could see the flash of a machete. Hear the sound of a head rolling across the dirt. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your throat tightening as the room spun around you. The scar on your arm felt like it was burning.

"Excuse me?" a man's voice pulled you back to reality, his tone polite but firm. "Do you need anything else?"

You blinked, your breath still shaky as you tried to steady yourself. The blonde woman's laughter had faded, and now she was looking at you, her piercing eyes sharp and almost bored, like she was trying to place where she'd seen you before.

You struggled to keep your hands from trembling as you clutched the tray tighter. "I-I'm fine," you stammered, inhaling deeply to keep your composure.

But it didn't help when one of the other women at the table—a brunette with diamond earrings—reached for your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the long scar that ran down the length of it.

"God," the woman said, her voice dripping with disgust. "What a nasty scar you have." Her fingers brushed the raised tissue, making you flinch involuntarily. "How'd you even get this?"

You froze, the room seeming to go quiet as her words echoed in your ears. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. You wanted to rip your arm away, but your body felt paralyzed, like you were trapped in that night all over again.

And then, you heard yourself asking, "Are you Ms. Wilson?"

The words felt foreign on your tongue, your voice shaky as you stared at the blonde woman.

She raised an eyebrow at you, her expression amused. "Yes, why?" she asked, taking another sip of her wine. "Do I know you?"

You almost laughed. Of course, she didn't remember. People like her never did.

Your grip on the tray tightened, your knuckles white as your mind raced. You remembered her now—her face, her voice, the way she had smiled behind the mask as she watched you and the others run for your lives.

And she didn't even remember you.

"No," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. "You don't."

Her head tilted slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to place you, but after a moment, she simply shrugged and turned back to her companions, already dismissing you from her mind.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your nails digging into the tray as you tried to contain the rage bubbling up inside you.

You turned on your heel, your legs trembling with each step as you left the dining area. The walls of the restaurant seemed to close in, the air thick and suffocating. 

Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps as you pushed through the kitchen doors, your tray clattering loudly onto the counter.

Gripping the edge of the counter, your knuckles turned white as you stared down at the cold, stainless steel surface. You willed yourself to calm down, to pull it together, but your heart was racing, your chest heaving as the memories refused to let you go.

You muttered something about not feeling well to your manager, barely hearing his reply as you left the restaurant. 

You didn't go to Jay's home like you usually did. Instead, you walked to your own apartment, your feet moving automatically, your head swirling with thoughts you couldn't control.

When you finally closed the door behind you, something inside you broke. You let out a scream, raw and primal, nails digging into your throat as if you could claw the pain away. Tears streamed down your face, hot and endless, blurring your vision as sob after sob wracked your body.

You stumbled to the target board you had set up on the wall—the one you used for practice, for preparation—and grabbed a knife. With a sharp, angry cry, you hurled it at the board. It hit the target right in the head.

You screamed again, louder this time, grabbing anything within reach and throwing it across the room. A glass shattered against the wall. A stack of books tumbled to the floor. You didn't care.

When you finally collapsed onto your bed, your body was trembling, your chest heaving as you cried into the pillow. The tears wouldn't stop, your sobs loud and broken as you curled into yourself, trying to escape the weight pressing down on you.

At some point, exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep, your face damp with tears.

You jolted awake when the bed shifted beneath you. Your heart leapt into your throat, your body tensing instinctively, but then you saw him—Jay, sitting beside you, his worried eyes scanning your face.

"You didn't come home," he said softly, his voice full of concern. 

"I was worried. Your manager said you took an early leave." He reached for your hand, holding it gently as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "Did something happen?"

His voice was so calm, so steady, and it only made your tears resurface. You watched him lift your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your fingertips. The tenderness in his actions broke you all over again.

Your eyes watered, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. Your sobs were muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't say anything—he just held you, his arms wrapping around you tightly, protectively.

"It will never go away," you choked out between sobs, your voice muffled against his chest. "I don't know how to heal when this Purge still fucking exists."

Jay tightened his hold on you, his hand moving to the back of your head as he gently stroked your hair. 

"I'm so sorry," you cried, your voice breaking. "For always being like this."

"Shh," he murmured softly, pulling you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. "You don't have to apologize, love. Don't ever apologize for how you feel."

You buried your face in his shoulder, shaking your head. The words of comfort should've helped, but all they did was amplify the storm inside you.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Jay asked, his voice low and patient.

You shook your head, gripping him tighter. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. Not now. Not yet.

He didn't push. He just held you, his hand running up and down your back as you cried into him.

And then, as the room grew quieter, your emotions spilled into something else. The ache in your chest shifted, giving way to a deeper, more desperate need—the need to feel alive, to feel connected, to escape the weight of your mind, even if only for a moment.

Your lips found his, and he kissed you back without hesitation, his hands tightening around your waist. The kiss was slow at first, gentle, but soon it grew hungry, fueled by the raw emotion lingering in the air.

It wasn't long before your knees dug into the mattress, your body arching beneath him as he moved inside you. The pain and weight of your emotions blurred into the pleasure of his touch, every thrust sending a wave of heat through your body.

"A-ah! Fuck, slow down!" you gasped as he hit a spot inside you that made your toes curl.

"Felt so good," Jay groaned, his breath hot against your ear as his body pressed flush against yours. His lips found the nape of your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as his fingers kneaded your breasts, sending sparks of sensation through you.

You threw your head back, your arms giving out beneath you as he pressed deeper. "Jay," you whimpered, his name tumbling from your lips as your body trembled with every movement.

"Love you," he groaned, his voice rough with desperation. "Fuck, a-ah, I'm gonna cum."

"Inside me, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you.

Jay's body fell against yours as he pushed deeper, his breath hitching as his release overtook him. The feeling of him filling you pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you so intensely that tears pricked your eyes.

Your cries of overstimulation mixed with his groans, his hips moving in small, desperate thrusts as he fill inside you. Finally, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

His lips pressed soft kisses along your forehead and temple, his hand trailing to your stomach, where his fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice so full of sincerity that it made your chest ache.

You turned your head, catching his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. He kissed you back, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"Spend the Purge at our house," he said after a moment, his forehead resting against yours. "You'll be safe there. I'll protect you. I promise."

His words should have comforted you. They should have been enough. But as you stared into his eyes, full of love and hope, you felt your chest tighten.

Because no matter what Jay did to protect you, no matter how much healing you tried to find, there was one truth you couldn't ignore.

No matter how hard you fought it, no matter how much you loved him, you're still broken, and lost.

March 21, 3:00 PM

You wiped the tables methodically, trying to focus on the task, but the air in the restaurant was tense. All eyes were glued to the TV mounted on the wall, where the announcement of the Annual Purge was being broadcast. The monotone voice of the announcer echoed through the room, describing the rules and restrictions for the night.

Your manager came up to you, his voice urgent. "Hey, take an early leave. Go home and get ready. You shouldn't be out when the sirens start."

You nodded, offering him a faint smile. "Thanks, I'll head out soon."

After finishing up and helping close the restaurant, you walked back to your apartment. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the streets. As you set up a small barricade in your apartment—nothing fancy, just furniture pressed against the windows and doors—you heard a car honk outside.

Peeking out, you saw Jay leaning casually against his car, waiting for you with that familiar warm smile.

You felt a wave of comfort wash over you at the sight of him. Smiling back, you hurried outside, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Let's go home?" he asked, his voice calm and full of care.

You hesitated, glancing back at your apartment. "I need to grab a few things first," you said.

Jay nodded easily. "Of course. Take your time."

After changing out of your work uniform, you slipped into a white off-shoulder dress that reached your knees—something simple yet elegant. You'd never worn it before, and even the soft fabric against your skin felt foreign. Paired with Mary Jane shoes and a pair of cute white socks.

When you stepped into Jay's car, he looked up at you, his eyes widening slightly. "Wow," he murmured, his gaze softening. "You look beautiful."

You felt your cheeks warm as he leaned in, holding your jaw gently and pecking your lips. "What's with the outfit today?" he teased, laughing lightly.

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I just thought... maybe I'd wear something different. Something nice."

Jay laughed again, his hand reaching out toward your thigh, but you subtly redirected it, placing it over yours instead. He didn't seem to mind, intertwining his fingers with yours as his other hand rested on the steering wheel.

March 21, 4:30 PM

The house was buzzing with noise by the time you arrived. From the top of the stairs, you peeked down and saw six boys piling in through the entrance, bags slung over their shoulders as they greeted Jay's mother.

"Oh, it's Jay's friends!" his mother exclaimed warmly, hugging them one by one.

You recognized Ni-ki and Sunoo, the only ones you'd met before. The rest were strangers to you, their confident voices filling the house as they exchanged jokes and pleasantries.

"Hi, Mrs. Park! I hope you don't mind if we spend the Purge here at your house!" said a tall man with an easy smile.

"No problem, Heesung," Jay's mother replied, her voice full of affection. "What about your parents and sisters?"

"They're at a party," another boy replied casually. "Some politician's mansion. They love that kind of thing."

Your breath hitched, the words hitting a nerve.

What a nice life to be rich, you thought bitterly.

"Hey," Jay's voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him standing beside you, his brow furrowed slightly. "Are you okay?"

You forced a smile, one you'd perfected over the years. "Yeah, I'm fine. Your friends are downstairs."

Jay studied you for a moment longer, but then he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours as he led you down the stairs.

The boys were loud and full of energy, laughing and teasing each other as they set their bags down and unpacked their things. Jay's mother fussed over them, offering snacks and asking about their families.

"This is Y/N, my girlfriend," Jay announced proudly, pulling you close by your waist.

The room fell quiet for a brief moment, and you could feel their gazes on you.

"Oh my God, you're a thing now?" Jay's mother gasped, her hands clasped over her mouth.

"Isn't it obvious?" Jay replied with a laugh.

One of the boys stepped forward, introducing himself. "Hi, Y/N! I'm Heesung. This is Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon. I guess you already know Ni-ki and Sunoo."

You offered a polite smile, nodding as they all greeted you.

As the evening went on, you stayed mostly quiet, helping Jay's mother prepare food while the boys joked around. Jay noticed your silence, slipping his arms around your waist from behind as you worked in the kitchen.

"Hey," he murmured against your ear. "You're safe, okay? You don't need to worry."

You turned to look at him, your heart heavy with emotions you couldn't express. "I love you," you said softly, staring into his eyes.

Jay smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. "I love you more," he replied, glancing at his watch. "It's already 6:30. I need to barricade the house."

You nodded, watching as he started to walk away. Then, impulsively, you called out, "Jay."

He turned back, his eyes soft. "Hmm?"

Walking up to him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. His hands found your face, gently brushing his thumb across your cheek as he looked at you with worry. "Are you anxious, baby?" he asked softly.

"No," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I just wanted to say I love you again."

Jay let out a soft laugh, leaning down to kiss you. "Love, I'm just barricading the house, not purging." He kissed your forehead tenderly, his lips lingering for a moment. "Now, let me lock everything down so we'll be safe, okay?"

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly as he disappeared toward the storage room.

Jay walked through the dim hallway leading to the storage room when he heard footsteps behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Sunghoon catching up to him, a casual smirk on his face as he slung an arm around Jay's shoulder.

"Yo, bro," Sunghoon said casually, falling into step beside him. "No offense but, you sure about that girl?"

Jay frowned, shrugging off Sunghoon's arm. "Why? What are you talking about?"

Sunghoon shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "She just... seems like a lot. I mean, no offense, but she looks like she's difficult to handle."

Jay's brows furrowed deeper, his steps slowing as he turned to face Sunghoon. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Look, we care about you," Sunghoon said, raising his hands as if to calm him. "Have you seen her scars? Her face? She's clearly been through some shit. Is she even healed from all that?"

Jay's jaw tightened, his teeth clenching as anger flared in his chest. He stepped closer to Sunghoon, his voice low and dangerous. "Watch your mouth."

"Chill, man, I'm just saying." Sunghoon grabbed Jay's arm in an attempt to reason with him. "That girl's got baggage, and I'm telling you, she's going to be a lot of problems for you. She's not stable, bro. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."

Jay didn't let him finish. His hand shot out, grabbing Sunghoon by the collar and shoving him back against the wall. "Say another word, and I swear I'll make you regret it," he growled, his voice dripping with rage.

Sunghoon's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't back down. "I'm trying to look out for you, Jay," he said, his tone firm. "You're my friend. I don't want you getting hurt."

Jay released him with a sharp shove, his chest heaving as he tried to control his temper. "Don't ever talk about her like that again," he said coldly, his eyes burning with anger. "You don't know a damn thing about her."

He turned on his heel, ignoring Sunghoon as he walked into the storage room. His hands trembled slightly as he pressed the button to activate the lockdown. The sound of metal walls sliding into place filled the air, sealing the house and cutting off the world outside.

"Jay, listen to me," Sunghoon said, his voice following him into the room. "I'm serious. There's something off about her. Just think about it, man."

Jay didn't respond. He slammed the door shut behind him, shutting Sunghoon out both literally and figuratively.

Returning to the living room, Jay found the rest of his friends lounging on the couches, laughing and exchanging stories. His mother was tidying up nearby, a small smile on her face as she listened to their chatter.

"Where's Y/N?" Jay asked, his eyes scanning the room.

"I think she went to your room," Ni-ki said, glancing up from his phone. "She said she wanted to sleep early."

Jay nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But before he could take another step, Sunghoon appeared at his side again.

"Man, I'm trying to talk to you," Sunghoon said, his voice laced with frustration.

Jay's patience snapped. Without thinking, he turned and landed a punch squarely on Sunghoon's jaw, sending him stumbling backward.

The room fell silent as the others jumped to their feet.

"Jay! What the hell are you doing?!" Jake shouted, stepping between them.

"I'm just trying to give him advice about his girlfriend!" Sunghoon snapped, holding his jaw as he glared at Jay.

"Are you seriously saying that fucking nonsense while my girlfriend is in this house?!" he shouted. "How dare you even say that shit in front of me?!"

Sunghoon raised his hands in defense, but Jay wasn't done. He stepped closer, pointing a finger at him. "You've known her for, what, an hour? And you think you have the right to judge her? To judge us? Fuck you, Sunghoon!"

"Jay, calm down," Heesung said cautiously, stepping between the two of them with his hands outstretched, but Jay wasn't having it.

"You don't get to judge her just because of what you think you see!" Jay growled, his voice trembling with anger. He shoved Heesung and Jake off as they tried to hold him back.

"Get the fuck off me!" he barked, storming out of the living room. His footsteps pounded against the floor as he made his way up the stairs, leaving everyone behind in stunned silence.

Jay climbed the stairs two at a time, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He pulled out his phone, swiping through his notifications until he found a message from Dr. Jisoo that he had missed earlier.

Dr. Jisoo: Good afternoon, Mr. Park. I just wanted to check in on Y/N since she's missed her last three sessions. Please keep an eye on her, especially today—it's a particularly triggering event for her. Thank you.

Jay felt a wave of dread wash over him, his heart sinking into his stomach. He quickened his pace, practically sprinting to his bedroom.

"Y/N?" he called, pushing the door open.

But the room was empty.

Panic set in as he checked the bathroom, the closet, all of the room, even under the bed, but you were nowhere to be found.

He bolted back down the stairs, his voice frantic as he called out for you. "Y/N?! Where are you?!"

His mother stepped into the hallway, her face pale with worry. "What's wrong, Jay?"

"She's gone," he said, his voice shaking. "Did anyone see her leave?!"

Everyone in the living room exchanged confused looks, shrugging helplessly.

"Y/N?!" Jay shouted again, his voice echoing through the house.

Jay froze as the broadcast echoed through the house, the robotic voice chilling him to the bone.

"This is not a test. This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge sanctioned by the U.S Government.

Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning, until 7 a.m., when the Purge concludes.

Blessed by our New Founding Fathers and America, a nation reborn. May God be with you all."

The final words echoed in his ears as the sirens blared, signaling the start of the Purge.

His heart pounded, his chest tight as he pieced everything together. The missed therapy sessions, how quiet you had been all day, the way you hugged him like it might be the last time.

You weren't in the house.

You were out there.

Jay turned on his heel and sprinted to the storage room, his mind racing as panic surged through him.

He yanked open his closet, grabbing the bag he had packed weeks ago—just in case. Inside were the essentials: a shotgun, a pistol, extra ammunition, and a knife. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, his hands trembling as he loaded the pistol, cocking it with precision.

"Jay, what are you doing?!" his mother cried, standing at the door with tears streaming down her face.

"Unlock the barricade and lock it again after I leave," he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth she was used to.

"Jay, you can't! It's dangerous out there!" she pleaded, stepping closer.

"Unlock it!" he snapped, his voice sharp, though his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. "Please, Mom. I have to go."

"No," Sunghoon interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing Jay's arm. "You're not thinking straight. She left, Jay. She chose to go out there—"

Jay swatted his hand away, pointing the pistol directly at Sunghoon's head. The room went silent.

"Jay!" Heesung shouted, stepping forward.

"Come any closer, and I'll blow his fucking head off," Jay growled, his jaw tightening as his finger hovered near the trigger. "You don't get to stop me. None of you do."

Sunghoon raised his hands slowly, his expression shifting to one of caution. "Alright, man. Just... relax, okay? I'm just trying to—"

"Shut up," Jay hissed, the tension in his body radiating outward. His voice lowered, trembling slightly. "I told you to stay out of this. She's out there, and I'm going to find her."

He turned his gaze to Ni-ki, who was frozen near the security console. "Ni-ki," Jay said firmly. "Unlock the barricade. Now."

Ni-ki hesitated, looking at Jungwon and Jake for guidance, but neither said anything. With a shaky hand, Ni-ki pressed the button, and the sound of the metal walls lifting reverberated through the house.

"Jay, please," his mother sobbed, grabbing his arm as he stepped toward the door.

Jay paused, his resolve faltering for just a moment as he looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "But I can't stay here knowing she's out there."

Tears streamed down her face as she nodded, her voice trembling. "I understand, be safe. Please."

"I will," Jay said, stepping out the door. "Lock it the second I'm gone."

The metal walls began to descend behind him as he walked to his car, his mind racing with questions. Where could you have gone? Why didn't you tell him? Were you safe? Were you scared?

Sliding into the driver's seat, he tossed the bag into the passenger side and gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. His eyes scanned the darkened streets, the occasional scream or gunshot in the distance reminding him of the stakes.

Without hesitation, he pressed the gas pedal.

You walk slowly down an unfamiliar road, your steps unsteady. You just keep walking and walking, unsure of where you're going or why. You don't understand yourself anymore. You thought everything was finally okay. What more could you ask for?

You have a loving boyfriend who always tries to make you smile. His mother cares for you like her own. You eat three meals a day. You're seeing a therapist. And you even have a safe place to hide on Purge Night.

So why do you feel like this?

Why do you feel so broken when you should feel whole?

Why are you out here, in the middle of the street, on the most dangerous night of the year, with just a knife strapped under your dress?

You wonder if Jay has noticed you're gone. He probably has by now. Your chest tightens at the thought of him pacing back and forth, calling your name.

Your lifeless eyes stare ahead as you walk deeper into the quiet street. It's so still, unnaturally still. No trucks rumbling down the road. No gangs or masked figures in sight.

"Kill me already!" you scream into the emptiness. Your voice echoes down the road, but there's no answer. Not a single sniper or purger takes the bait.

Then, a distant cry catches your ear—a plea for help. You turn toward the sound and walk toward it, your grip tightening on the handle of the knife hidden beneath your dress.

As you approach, you see a young girl sprinting toward you, clutching her bleeding waist. Four people in masks are chasing her, laughing like it's some sick game.

"Man, we just want to purge!" one of them—a woman—cackles. That laugh—it burrows into your memory like a needle.

The girl stumbles, and when her eyes meet yours, there's desperation written all over them. She collapses at your feet, her blood soaking through your white dress as she clings to you.

"Please... help me," she gasps.

Her words are cut off by a gunshot. Blood splatters across your face as a hole appears in her forehead. Her body falls limp, her grip on your dress loosening.

"My fucking soul feels cleansed!" the woman says with a twisted laugh. The others laugh with her, like a pack of hyenas.

"Up next—" the woman starts, raising her pistol toward you.

But you're faster.

In one fluid motion, you pull out your knife and hurl it at her. It pierces through her mask and into her skull. She drops instantly, blood dripping from the blade.

The remaining three hesitate, stunned. That's all the time you need. You yank the knife from the dead woman's head and dash toward the others, slicing the nearest one's throat in a clean arc.

The man in the joker mask fumbles for his gun, but you grab the dead body beside you, using it as a shield. Then, you throw the knife again, this time hitting his chest.

He stumbles back, gasping for air, as you snatch his gun from his weakening grip. Before he can even hit the ground, you fire a shot straight into his skull.

Now, there's only one left.

The last purger, wearing a cat mask, drops to his knees and pulls the mask off, revealing a trembling man. He raises his hands in surrender, tears streaming down his face.

"P-please... spare me. I-I just wanted to purge this year," he stammers, his voice cracking.

You glare at him, the weight of your actions and emotions swirling inside you.

"How many innocent people have you killed in all the purges you've been a part of?" you ask, your tone icy.

His lip quivers. "P-probably 70—"

Before he can finish, you pull the trigger.

The gunshot echoes through the street as he collapses, lifeless.

Silence fills the street once more as you stand there, your white dress soaked in blood, surrounded by bodies. You don't know how long you've been standing there, staring at the carnage.

Then, it happens.

A soft laugh escapes your lips. It bubbles up from your throat, quiet at first, but it grows louder, sharper, until it echoes down the empty street. It's not a happy laugh. It's hollow, bitter, unhinged.

You bring a hand to your face, your fingers brushing against the blood splattered across your skin.

You really have lost yourself, haven't you? Or, did you found it now?

You hate the Purge. You hate the monsters it creates. You hate the people who thrive on it, the ones who laugh, who kill, who hurt.

So why are you here, in the middle of the night, doing the exact same thing?

Tears prick at your eyes, but they don't fall. You just stand there, your shoulders trembling as the weight of everything presses down on you. You feel nothing. And that terrifies you most of all.

You crouch down, wiping your knife on the dead woman's clothes, smearing blood across the fabric.

Your hands tremble slightly, it's not fear—it's something else. A quiet storm you can't name.

Once the blade gleams clean, you tuck it back into the thigh strap beneath your dress. Grabbing the fallen gun, you check the chamber and reload it. The satisfying click of the cocked weapon echoes as you straighten up and continue walking.

The street stretches ahead, eerily quiet except for the distant sounds of chaos—gunshots, screams, and the occasional rumble of an engine.

Three figures suddenly sprint toward you from the shadows. They glance at you, wide-eyed, as they pass by, their faces pale with fear.

Ahead of you, three figures suddenly appear from the shadows. Their faces are pale with fear as they sprint past you. One of them—a panicked old man—stumbles and grabs your arm, his grip shaky.

"Miss, don't go that way!" he says, his voice hoarse and desperate. "That group's rounding people up—they're psychos!"

His words barely register. Your gaze drifts past him, toward the direction he came from. A cold calm washes over you as he keeps tugging at your arm, pleading.

A large truck screeches to a halt in front of you, its headlights blinding. The old man panics, letting go of your arm and bolting down the road. He doesn't get far. A sharp crack rings out, and he collapses mid-stride, a bullet tearing through his back.

You don't flinch.

The truck door swings open, and several masked figures step out.

One of them grabs your arm, yanking it behind your back as another snatches the gun from your hand.

"Blessed be the New Founding Fathers of America," one of them says, leaning close to your face.

You smile. Not a kind smile—a bitter one. "Blessed be them," you whisper back.

Then, without warning, you jerk your head forward, slamming it into the man's nose. He stumbles back with a grunt of pain, clutching his face as blood pours through his fingers.

Before the others can react, you twist your arm free and yank your knife from its strap. The blade flashes in the dim light as you slice upward, catching one of them in the throat. They gargle and drop to their knees, clutching at the wound.

Another lunges at you, swinging a metal pipe. You duck under the blow, driving the knife into his ribs. He gasps, his body jolting as you twist the blade, blood spraying onto your dress.

You scream—whether it's from rage or something deeper, you're not sure.

The sound rips from your throat as you yank the knife free and stab again, and again, and again, until his body goes limp.

Behind you, the first man—the one whose nose you broke—recovers quickly. He raises his gun, aiming it directly at your back.

You're too focused, too lost in the heat of the moment to notice him.

The loud crack of gunfire fills the air, but it doesn't come from his weapon.

The man's body jerks violently as a burst of bullets tears through him, and he collapses to the ground, lifeless.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you spin around.

Your wide eyes locking onto the figure standing behind him.

"Jay," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He steps forward slowly, his shotgun still in hand. His expression is unreadable, his eyes flicking over the bodies surrounding you before settling on you.

You brace yourself for the anger you expect to see in his face. For him to yell at you, demand answers, maybe even tell you he's done with you.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he stops in front of you, his gaze softening as he raises a hand to your face. His thumb brushes gently across your cheek, wiping away the streaks of blood smeared there.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice full of worry. "Are you hurt?"

You can't speak. Your lips tremble as tears blur your vision. Slowly, your hand rises to hold his against your cheek.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry for not noticing sooner that you weren't okay. I should've known."

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and you shake your head, your tears spilling over. "W-what are you doing here?" you manage to say, your voice shaking. "It's dangerous."

Jay smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I could say the same thing to you, love," he murmurs, pulling you into a warm, protective embrace.

His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you like he's afraid to let go. You bury your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt.

"I can't let my girl be out here alone on Purge Night," he whispers into your hair.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him, your smile shaky and uncertain. "Y-you're not angry?"

Jay shakes his head slowly, his warm hand cupping your face as if to anchor you. "No, baby. I'm not angry," he says softly.

Your lips tremble, the guilt clawing its way up your throat as you look into his eyes. "I... I'm a monster, Jay. Look at what I did," you whisper, your voice cracking.

His thumb gently strokes your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. There's no judgment there, no fear—just a quiet understanding that makes your chest ache.

"I don't think I'm normal anymore, Jay," you say, your voice barely audible as tears spill freely down your face. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I don't know who I am anymore."

You start to sob, the raw emotion pouring out of you like a dam breaking. Jay leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his other hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you steady.

"I love you," he whispers into the space between you. "No matter what. No matter what you've done, no matter what you want to do... I love you."

His words hit you like a wave, and your sobs come harder, your body trembling in his arms.

"You always ask if you're normal," he continues, his tone soothing as he brushes a stray tear from your cheek. "But I already told you, love. Who cares about normal? Normal doesn't matter to me. You matter to me."

His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you against his chest.

"If this is what you need to do to heal, then I'll be here," he whispers into your ear. "And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't say this to me. I'll always understand, love. Always. Just... don't do this again without me knowing, okay?"

You nod against his chest, your sobs muffling into his shirt.

"I'm such a—" you try to speak, but the words get caught in your throat, your cries making it impossible to finish the sentence.

Jay shushes you softly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "You're not. You're not anything bad, baby. You're just... hurting."

You pull back slightly, your hands clutching his shirt as you look up at him, your voice trembling. "I hate it, Jay. I hate what I've become. I'm not me anymore. It terrifies me."

His hand moves to cradle the back of your head, and he presses a soft kiss to your hair. "I know," he whispers. "But I'll be here. I'll be with you through every terrifying moment, love."

For a long moment, the two of you just stay like that—his arms holding you close, your head resting against his chest as your breathing slowly evens out. The tension in your body begins to ease, though the storm in your mind still churns.

Jay pulls back slightly, tilting his head to meet your gaze, his smile growing softer but never losing its warmth.

"Are you enjoying yourself right now?" he asks, his voice light and genuine, almost teasing.

You blink at him, surprised by the question, but the answer bubbles up inside you before you can stop it. A faint smile begins to form on your lips, something that feels both wrong and inexplicably right.

"Yes," you admit quietly, your voice steadier than before. "I think I am."

Jay's smile widens just a little, his thumb brushing against your cheek again as if to ground you.

"That's all that matters," he says softly, his voice filled with a calm acceptance that makes the tension in your chest ease.

Then, his eyes flicker toward the carnage surrounding you—the lifeless bodies, the blood that stains the street, and your hands, still trembling but steady enough to hold the knife.

"What do you want to do? Hmm?" he asks, his tone curious yet understanding, as if ready to follow wherever your answer leads.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the gun in your hands and the heat of the night pressing against your skin. Your lips curve into a determined smile, and your answer comes without hesitation.

"I want to kill purgers," you say, your voice clear and sharp, your eyes shining with a fire that you hadn't felt in years.

Jay doesn't flinch or waver at your words. Instead, he nods, stepping closer to you and holding out his shotgun. "Here," he says, his voice calm as he hands it over.

You take it, your hands steady now, and your eyes glint as you examine the weapon.

"Is this a SPAS-12?" you ask, running your fingers along the smooth barrel.

Jay chuckles softly, watching the way your gaze flickers with excitement.

"Yeah. My dad gave it to me," he replies as he takes your free hand in his.

"Come on," he says, tugging you gently toward his car. "Let's get out of here. It's dangerous to stay in one spot too long."

You follow him, practically bouncing on your heels as you intertwine your fingers with his. As the two of you approach the car, a question bubbles up, one you hadn't thought to ask before.

"Where's your dad, anyway? I've never met him," you say, glancing at him as he unlocks the driver's side door.

Jay shrugs lightly, opening the door for you.

"He's overseas," he explains as you climb in. "He's been busy. A lot of countries are starting to plan their own versions of the Purge, and he's consulting on security systems for them."

"Wow," you mutter, settling into the passenger seat as Jay slides in beside you.

He starts the car, the engine rumbling to life as he glances over at you. "You ready?"

"Is this car bulletproof?" you ask, running your hand along the interior with a raised eyebrow.

Jay smirks, shrugging. "I don't think so, but who needs bulletproof when we've got each other?"

You giggle, the sound light and unexpected, even to yourself.

As he presses the gas pedal hard, the car lurches forward, and the thrill of speed courses through you.

The windows are down, and the cool night air rushes past you as you cock the shotgun, the familiar click of the weapon sending a chill down your spine.

You lean halfway out the window, scanning the streets for purgers, your eyes narrowing when you spot a group down the road.

"Hey, fuckers!" you shout, your voice carrying across the night.

Jay glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches you. "Careful with my car, love," he teases, though there's nothing but pride in his tone.

You don't respond, too focused on your target. Raising the shotgun, you take aim and fire. The blast rings out, and one of the masked figures crumples to the ground.

Jay chuckles, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he drifts the car in a sharp circle, giving you a clear view of the rest of the group.

You take the opportunity, cocking the shotgun again and pulling the trigger, your laughter bubbling up as another purger falls.

Jay's eyes are on you the whole time.

There's a softness in his gaze, even amid the violence. A quiet love that seems to radiate from him as he smiles, the chaos of the night fading away for him.

There's just you, him, and the shared thrill of the hunt.

March 22, 4:00 AM

The two of you stand on the rooftop of an abandoned building, the city stretched out before you in ruins. Fires burn in the distance, their orange glow painting the night in an eerie light. Screams and gunshots echo faintly through the air, but up here, it almost feels quiet.

Jay's arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you against him as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

"When I first saw you, I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen," he says softly, his voice low in your ear.

You snort, your lips twitching into a faint smile. "I smelled like shit, Jay. I looked like skin and bones. Where's the 'pretty' in that?" you ask, a chuckle escaping you.

Jay presses his lips to your neck, his voice a murmur against your skin. "You were pretty then. You're pretty now. You've always been pretty."

"You should hate me," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant crackling of fires below. "For leaving. For running away."

Jay's grip tightened, his hands pulling you closer as his forehead pressed against the back of your head. "I could never hate you," he murmured. "Not when I know what you've been carrying."

You opened your mouth to argue, to push back

"I don't deserve you," you admitted, your voice cracking as the weight of the night caught up with you.

Jay let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and reassuring. "You don't get to decide that," he said, his tone teasing but full of affection. "That's my call, and I'm not going anywhere.

You tilt your head slightly, giving him more access, your breath hitching as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. His lips linger, soft and warm, before his tongue flicks against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

A quiet moan escapes you as he nips at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothes the bite with a kiss. "Jay..."

His hands begin to roam, one sliding up to cup your breast, squeezing gently, while the other dips beneath your dress. His fingers brush over the fabric of your panties, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves there.

"You're really doing this?" you sigh, half-laughing even as your body arches into his touch.  "In the middle of the purge?"

Jay chuckles softly, his lips still pressed against your neck. "We're standing on a rooftop, watching the world burn," he murmurs. "Seems like the perfect time to me."

His fingers move with more purpose now, slipping past the fabric of your panties and brushing against your wet folds. You gasp, your body trembling against him as he slides one finger inside you, curling it just enough to make you bite down on your lip.

"You know," Jay whispers, his voice low and rough as his free hand kneads your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. "I'm not normal either."

You barely manage to form a response, your mind clouded by the pleasure building inside you. "W-what do you mean?"

Jay bites gently at your neck again, his lips curling into a grin. "Watching you out there... gunning down those purgers... smearing blood all over that cute little dress..." He groans, his hips pressing into you so you can feel just how hard he is. 

"Fuck, it turns me on so much. You looked so beautiful. So fucking dangerous."

His confession sends a jolt of heat straight through you, and your legs almost buckle as he slides another finger inside you, his pace increasing. His other hand slips beneath the neckline of your dress, tugging it down just enough to expose your chest as he palms your bare skin.

"Jay..." you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers work you over, pushing deeper and curling just right.

"You're so perfect like this," he whispers, his voice breathy and filled with adoration as he watches your face twist with pleasure. 

"The way your body moves, the way you moan for me... I'll never get enough of you."

His thumb brushes over your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. You grip his arms, your nails digging into his skin as your body starts to shake.

"F-fuck, Jay," you cry out, your voice muffled as he kisses your temple.

"That's it, baby," he encourages. "Let go for me. Let me see you lose yourself."

You're barely holding on, your body trembling as he picks up the pace, his fingers sliding in and out of you relentlessly. 

The pressure inside you builds and builds until it snaps, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing over you as your orgasm takes hold.

You cry out, your hips bucking against his hand as you ride out the high, your walls clenching around his fingers. Jay doesn't stop, his movements gentle now as he works you through it, his lips pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.

When the aftershocks finally subside, you collapse back against him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. Jay wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close as he presses a kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice soft and sincere.  "Now, let me eat."

Before you can respond, he gently turns you, guiding your back to the cool metal railing. His hands are steady on your waist

"Park Jongseong!"

He crouched, his teeth hooking the edge of your panties and dragging them down, baring you inch by inch. The fabric pooled at your knees before his face dove between your thighs, his tongue parting you

He worked his way up to your clit, licking slow, teasing circles that made your knees threaten to buckle.

His grip tightened on your waist, firm hands pulling you closer, urging your hips to rock against his face.

Your right leg lifted, hooking over his shoulder for balance, your fingers threading into his hair to anchor yourself. You tugged, hard, grinding yourself against him. His groan reverberated through you, the vibrations sending shockwaves straight to your core.

"Jongseong!" you sobbed, your voice breaking as the intensity overwhelmed you. Your grip on his hair tightened, your body trembling.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and desperate. 

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you down. You hit the rough ground with a muted thud, your palms scraping against the coarse surface.

You barely had time to process the sensation before his hands were on your hips, lifting you up.

"Need to be inside you, baby."

You heard him groan softly, the sound of him stroking himself before he pressed against your entrance.

The stretch as he slid inside you was slow, deliberate, every inch a sensation that left you gasping. You clenched around him instinctively, earning a hiss from him as he threw his head back, savoring the feeling.

"Faster," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. Your hands scrambled to reach his, gripping the one on your waist.

"My baby wants more?" he laughed, a dark, almost mocking edge to his tone.

Before you could answer, he gathered your wrists in one hand, pulling them behind your back and holding them there. His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

You screamed, your voice raw, your body pliant in his grasp.

He didn't stop, didn't relent, even as your cries turned to desperate whines. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling violently. But just as you were about to fall over, his movements faltered.

"No!" you cried out, shaking in his hold, trying to move, to chase the release that hovered just out of reach. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pressing you down firmly.

"Don't move," Jay ordered, his voice low and commanding. "I'm still enjoying the view."

You sobbed, your body trembling, your desperation mounting. "Please! I'll be good, I swear, please!"

He growled low in his throat, his hips slamming forward again, harder, rougher, making you cry out.

Gunshots echoed faintly in the background, but they felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the man above you, his hands pinning you down, his movements relentless.

Your mouth fell open as you felt him twitch inside you, his pace faltering before he suddenly flipped you onto your back. Your legs went limp, draped over his shoulders as he sank into you again, his face hovering inches from yours.

Your focus locked on him, the way his brows knit together, the way his jaw clenched, the way his sweat-dampened hair clung to his forehead. He was beautiful in his rawness, primal and consuming.

"I wanna cum," you whimpered, your hand reaching for your clit, desperate for release, but he slapped it away with a sharp look.

"Hold it, love," he commanded, his breath ragged. He leaned down, his mouth latching onto your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before he bit down, hard.

You screamed, tears streaming down your face as your body writhed beneath him.

"Can't hold it anymore," you sobbed, shaking your head, your pleas growing more desperate.

"Just a little longer," he whispered, his voice a strained plea of his own. His thumb found your clit, pressing down in firm, maddening circles, even as his hips drove into you faster, harder.

The moment came like a tidal wave, crashing through you with a force that left you breathless, your body spasming around him.

"A-ah fuck!" you screamed, your voice breaking.

His rhythm faltered as you tightened around him, pulling him over the edge with you. He buried himself deep, his groan low and guttural as he came, filling you completely.

"Jay, can't!" you whimpered, your body oversensitive, trembling as he continued to move, chasing the last echoes of his high.

"Fuck, I love you," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion

Finally, he stilled, collapsing beside you. His arm looped around your waist, pulling you close.

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" he teased, his voice soft.

"Tired," you mumbled, pouting with your eyes half-closed.

"What happened to killing purgers all night?" he asked, his tone light, teasing.

You cracked one eye open to glare at him. "It's morning," you grumbled.

Jay chuckled, his fingers gently smoothing down your dress as best as he could. His eyes lingered on you, softening as you murmured sleepily against his ear.

"I wanna kill Ms. Wilson next year," you whispered, your voice faint.

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Anything for you, love."

You hummed in response, your body melting further into his hold. "I hate how the Purge is so right," you mumbled, your words fading into the quiet dawn. "It really did cleanse my soul."

March 22, 6:45 AM

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a pale golden glow over the city. The streets were eerily still, a grim quiet settling over the aftermath of the Purge.

Jay carried you carefully to his car, his movements slow and deliberate as he set you down in the passenger seat. For a moment, he lingered, crouching beside you. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingers ghosting over your peaceful expression.

You had found yourself, hadn’t you? Maybe not in the way most people would expect, but in a way that felt undeniably true to you.

Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes opening just enough to glance at him groggily. "What time is it?"

"6:45," Jay replied softly, his voice low. "The Purge is almost over."

You nodded weakly, your head tilting back against the seat as your eyes drifted closed again. But before sleep could take you, they snapped open once more, and you turned your head to him.

"Why? What’s wrong?" Jay asked, his voice laced with gentle concern.

You smiled sweetly, your lips curving in a way that made his heart skip.

"Kiss me."

His lips twitched into a chuckle, but he leaned down without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours. 

"I love you," you whispered as your eyes closed again, this time surrendering completely to sleep.

"I love you too," Jay echoed, his voice just above a whisper. His hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he straightened up, gripping the steering wheel as he started the car.

The streets stretched out before him, empty and silent now, save for the faint echoes of distant sirens. The Purge had ended.

Jay chuckled softly to himself, glancing over at your sleeping form in the passenger seat. You looked so peaceful now, your lips slightly parted, your head resting against the window. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, the two of you had been surrounded by blood.

"Next year, huh?" he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jay definitely needed to watch his back next year.

But with you by his side, what could any purger do?

There was no telling what the two of you were capable of.

taglist: @fancypeacepersona, @tunafishyfishylike

[linnitheo]

Chasing forever 🏎️❤️

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You and Max Verstappen have been inseparable since childhood, best friends turned soulmates. From karting tracks to the world stage of Formula 1, you've stood by his side for fifteen years. Through victories, losses, and the pressures of fame, your love has been the one constant in his life. But with the spotlight burning brighter than ever and the weight of expectations growing heavier, can your love withstand everything that comes your way? Or will the pressures of the racing world prove too much, even for a love as strong as yours?

Max's POV

Fifteen years. That's how long Y/N and I have been together. From the moment we met at twelve years old, awkward and full of dreams, to now—still inseparable. Time has changed a lot of things: I became a Formula 1 driver, constantly traveling the world, and Y/N pursued their own dreams, yet through it all, we never let go of each other.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel of my Red Bull Racing car, heart pounding as I maneuver through the tight turns of Monaco. The race is intense, the pressure immense, but in the back of my mind, Y/N is always there. She is in the paddock, watching, supporting—just like she always have.

After crossing the finish line first, the overwhelming joy isn't just about the win—it's about who’s waiting for me. As soon as I step out of the car, peeling off my helmet, my eyes search for her. And there she is, arms open, smiling like she always do. My safe place.

I stride toward them, and before I can say a word, Y/N throws her arms around me. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. This—this is my real victory.

"You did it!" they say breathlessly, squeezing me tight.

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. "I always do it for you."

Y/N’s POV

Fifteen years and counting. Being with Max since we were kids has been a whirlwind, but one I wouldn't trade for anything. From watching him race karts at the local track to standing in the paddock at some of the world’s most famous circuits, I’ve seen him grow, fight, and succeed.

When he crosses the finish line first, I can’t hold back my excitement. He does it again, proving why he's the best, and my heart swells with pride. The moment he steps out of the car, sweaty and exhausted, but eyes locked onto mine, I feel the same rush I did when we were teenagers.

"You did it, champ!" I exclaim, wrapping my arms around him.

He lifts me off the ground slightly, laughing into my neck. "Couldn’t have done it without you, liefje."

Later, as the celebrations wind down, we sneak away from the chaos, walking along the marina hand in hand. The lights from the yachts reflect on the water, creating a mesmerizing glow.

"How do you feel?" I ask, squeezing his hand gently.

"Happy," he says, looking down at me with that boyish grin. "Winning is great, but coming home to you? That’s everything."

Max’s POV

Later that night, we sit on the balcony of our Monaco apartment, the city lights flickering against the dark sky. Y/N is curled up against me, her head resting on my chest as I absentmindedly play with her fingers.

"Did you ever think we'd make it this far?" she asks softly.

I press a kiss to her forehead. "I never doubted it. You're the only constant in my life, Y/N. Through everything—my career, the wins, the losses—it's always been you."

She smiles, her eyes shining under the moonlight. "Fifteen years down… forever to go?"

I chuckle, pulling her closer. "Forever sounds perfect to me."

Y/N’s POV

Being with Max isn't just about the races, the fame, or the trophies. It’s about the moments like this—where it's just us, where we’re still those two kids who fell in love all those years ago.

"Do you ever miss how simple life used to be?" I ask, tracing small patterns on his arm.

He thinks for a moment before answering. "Sometimes. But then I remember that I have you, and that makes everything worth it."

I tilt my head up to kiss him softly, savoring the warmth of his lips against mine. "Here’s to chasing forever, then."

And as he holds me tighter, whispering sweet promises of forever, I know that no matter where life takes us, we’ll always find our way back to each other.

END

[linnitheo]

Beneath the Smile

Joel x Y/N Fanfiction

Y/N POV

The air in my apartment was still. Too still. The kind of quiet that felt heavy, suffocating, as though something unseen was lurking just beyond the shadows. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, even though I was alone. I glanced at my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. It had been days since I last saw Joel. Days since he had started acting… strange.

I had known Joel for years—ever since we met at the precinct where he worked as a cop. He was the kind of guy who kept his emotions hidden behind a calm, cool exterior, but he was kind. Dependable. Someone you could trust with your life. We had been close for a long time, skirting the edges of something more than friendship. But lately, there was something different about him. Something that sent a chill down my spine every time I saw him.

It started with the small things—odd comments, distant stares, and then there was the smile. That eerie, unnerving smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was like his face had become a mask, hiding something dark beneath it.

I shook my head, trying to push the unsettling thoughts away. Maybe it was just the stress of his job, the cases he worked on—especially that last one. I had overheard bits and pieces of it, some weird chain of suicides, people claiming to see something before they died. It sounded insane, but Joel had been different ever since.

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Joel. A message.

“I need to see you.”

There was no explanation, no reassurance, just those four words. A shiver ran down my spine, but I texted back quickly.

“Come over. I’ll be here.”

Joel POV

I sat in the car outside Y/N’s apartment, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. My heart pounded in my chest, the rhythm erratic, as if something inside me was trying to crawl out, take control. It had been days since I’d felt like myself, since I’d felt human. Ever since I saw it—the thing that shouldn’t exist, the thing that was now haunting me.

It started after that damned case. Rose… poor Rose. She had been a friend, a colleague. I couldn’t get the image of her face out of my mind—the way she smiled before she died, like she was relieved, like it was all part of some sick joke only she understood.

And then it happened to me. I saw it.

I glanced in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see the thing lurking behind me, its twisted grin hovering just above my shoulder. But there was nothing. Not this time. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could outrun it.

Y/N was the only person I could think of. The only person I trusted. She didn’t know what was happening to me, and I didn’t want to drag her into this nightmare, but I couldn’t stay away. I needed her.

Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car and headed up to her apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last. When I reached her door, I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Could I really do this? Could I really expose her to the horror that had taken over my life?

I knocked, the sound sharp in the silence of the hallway.

The door opened almost immediately, and there she was. Y/N. Her eyes widened in concern when she saw me, her soft features creased with worry.

“Joel… you look terrible,” she said, her voice full of concern, but she stepped aside, letting me in without hesitation.

I stepped into the apartment, the familiar scent of her space calming me, if only for a moment. But the darkness was still there, lingering just beneath the surface, waiting to claw its way out.

Y/N POV

The moment Joel stepped into my apartment, I knew something was wrong. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken, and there was a wildness about him that made my heart ache with worry.

“Joel, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” I said softly, trying to reach out to him, but he stepped back, avoiding my touch.

“I can’t… I don’t know how to explain it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his voice low and shaky. “It’s like… there’s something following me. Something I can’t get rid of.”

I frowned, stepping closer to him despite the warning bells going off in my head. “What do you mean? Is someone threatening you?”

He shook his head, that eerie smile tugging at the corner of his lips for just a second before vanishing, like he was fighting it. “It’s not someone. It’s… something. I’ve been seeing things, Y/N. Things I can’t explain. And I—”

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, his grip tight, desperate. “I don’t know how long I have left before it… before it gets me.”

His words sent a cold chill through me. “Joel, you’re not making sense. What’s going to get you?”

Before he could answer, he flinched, his gaze darting to the corner of the room. His eyes widened in terror, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. Just empty space.

“Joel?” My voice trembled, fear creeping into my chest.

He pulled his hand away from mine, backing up until his back hit the wall. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes locked on something invisible. Then, slowly, that twisted, unnatural smile spread across his face again—only this time, it didn’t go away.

“Joel, stop,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. “You’re scaring me.”

But he didn’t respond. His eyes were glassy now, fixed on something I couldn’t see, and that smile… it wasn’t his. It didn’t belong to him. It was like something else had taken over.

Joel POV

I could feel it. It was inside me now. Crawling under my skin, twisting my thoughts, making me see things that weren’t there—or maybe they were there, but not for her to see. I didn’t want to smile. I didn’t want to show her the thing that had been haunting me, but I couldn’t stop it.

I looked at Y/N, my heart breaking. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I was losing control. The smile—it wasn’t mine anymore. It was its.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely my own. “I didn’t mean to bring this to you.”

She took a cautious step toward me, her eyes wide with fear but filled with determination. “Joel, we can get help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Help? There was no help for me. Not now. Not when it had its claws deep inside me. But maybe… maybe I could keep her safe. Maybe I could keep the thing from getting to her.

I grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close, my voice urgent. “You need to leave. Get out of here. Don’t come back.”

She shook her head, her hands gripping my arms. “No, Joel, I’m not leaving you like this. We can figure this out.”

The thing inside me laughed, a low, hollow sound that echoed in my head. It was getting stronger, its influence suffocating. I could feel my body betraying me, moving against my will. My hands dropped to my sides, and I took a step back.

“No,” I said, my voice trembling. “It’s too late.”

Y/N POV

Panic gripped my chest as I watched Joel, his body rigid, his face twisted in that horrifying smile. It wasn’t him anymore. I could feel it. Something dark, something evil had taken hold of him, and I didn’t know how to fight it.

“Joel, please,” I begged, my voice breaking. “You’re stronger than this. You can fight it.”

But his eyes… his eyes weren’t his anymore. They were empty, cold. The warmth that I had known in him for so long was gone, replaced by something monstrous. His lips parted, but the words that came out weren’t his own.

“It wants you too,” he said, his voice low, taunting. “You can’t run from it.”

My heart raced, fear clawing at my throat. I wanted to run, to scream, but I couldn’t leave him like this. Not Joel. Not the man I loved.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, plunging the room into momentary darkness. When they came back on, Joel was standing unnervingly close, his face inches from mine, that haunting smile stretched impossibly wide across his lips.

“You should have left when you had the chance,” he whispered, his breath cold against my skin.

I stumbled back, my heart pounding in my ears. The room felt like it was closing in, the shadows creeping closer, swallowing us both.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, Joel’s body went slack. The smile disappeared. He collapsed to the floor, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control.

“Y/N…,” he gasped, his voice weak. “I’m… sorry.”

But I knew. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t over. The thing wasn’t gone. It was lurking, waiting, and it wouldn’t stop until it had taken everything.

Joel POV

I felt the darkness

slipping back, retreating for now, but I knew it would return. It always did. Y/N was crouched beside me, her hand on my shoulder, tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice hoarse. “I couldn’t stop it.”

She shook her head, wiping away a tear. “We’ll find a way. We’ll figure this out.”

But I didn’t believe her. How could I? The thing inside me was getting stronger. It had taken Rose. It had taken others. And soon, it would take me too.

As I looked up at her, the last remnants of control slipping from my grasp, I forced one final smile—a real smile. One that was mine.

“Run,” I whispered, before the darkness swallowed me whole.

Y/N POV

His smile—it was real for a split second, before that twisted, eerie grin took over again. And this time, I knew there was nothing I could do.

I backed away slowly, my heart breaking as I watched the man I loved disappear behind a mask of evil.

And then, I turned and ran.

But I could still feel it. The smile. Watching. Waiting.

And I knew, deep down, that it would never let me go.

End

[linnitheo]

Hidden in the Stars

Taehyung x Y/N Fanfiction:

Y/N POV

It felt surreal, standing at the edge of the stage, watching the mass of flashing lights, roaring fans, and the blur of thousands of faces cheering for BTS. I had seen this before, millions of times on TV and online, but being here, so close to the chaos and magic of it all—it felt like a dream.

And yet, it was real. It was my reality now. The stage lights illuminated the seven figures performing with flawless energy, but my eyes were glued to one person: Taehyung. The way he moved, his presence on stage, the deep, husky tone of his voice—it captivated me. But what really made my heart race was the way he would steal glances at me from time to time, like a secret we shared that no one else could see.

How did I end up here?

Flashback, one year earlier:

I had always been passionate about music, working as a production assistant for various concerts and events. When the opportunity came to work for Bighit Music, I couldn’t believe my luck. I didn’t think much of the BTS connection at first—I knew they were global superstars, but I had my job to focus on. That is, until the day I first met them.

It was at a rehearsal. I was running around, fixing last-minute technical issues, making sure everything was perfect. And then I saw him. Taehyung.

At first, it was just a fleeting glance. He had this effortless charisma that made it hard not to notice him. But I brushed it off. I wasn’t here to fangirl; I was here to work. That night, however, things changed.

I was in the equipment room, organizing cables when the door swung open, and Taehyung stepped inside. For a moment, we both froze. He gave me a soft smile and said, “You’re the one who makes everything run smoothly, huh?”

I laughed, feeling a little embarrassed. “I try.”

From that moment, a quiet connection formed. Every time we crossed paths, he’d make a small comment, ask how my day was going, or simply smile in my direction. It felt innocent at first, but over time, those small moments turned into longer conversations.

Present Day, Y/N POV

The concert was over, and the crowd’s cheers echoed through the walls of the stadium. I slipped backstage, my heart still racing from the energy of the performance. I had a job to do—packing up equipment, coordinating with staff—but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I made my way to the dressing rooms, where the boys were cooling down after the intense performance. As I approached, I saw Taehyung leaning against the wall, talking to one of the staff members. When he saw me, his eyes lit up in a way that made my stomach flutter. He excused himself from the conversation and walked over to me, his voice low, meant just for me.

"Busy night?" he asked, his eyes gleaming under the soft lights.

I nodded, trying to maintain my composure. "Yeah, as always. But you guys killed it out there."

He smiled, his signature boxy grin that made my heart melt every time. "Thanks. You should have been out there watching. I could feel you backstage."

Before I could respond, we were interrupted by one of the managers calling Taehyung for a quick debrief. He gave me a small nod before walking away, but not without a final glance that lingered longer than it should have.

Taehyung POV

As I sat in the dressing room, listening to the managers talk about the logistics of the next leg of our tour, my mind wandered to Y/N. I couldn’t help it. Over the past year, she had become this quiet presence in my life, one I wasn’t expecting but couldn’t ignore.

She wasn’t like anyone else I’d met before. There was something so real about her—no pretense, no expectations. She treated me like I was just a guy doing his job, not the Taehyung that millions of people screamed for. And for someone like me, who was constantly in the spotlight, that was priceless.

But I also knew the risks. Being a part of BTS meant every move I made was scrutinized. Our private lives were hardly our own, and the media would have a field day if they caught wind of my feelings for Y/N. Still, I couldn’t deny it any longer. I was falling for her. Hard.

After the meeting, I found her near the equipment truck, carefully organizing some of the gear. I took a deep breath, walking up to her with purpose.

“Y/N,” I said softly.

She looked up, surprised. “Hey, everything okay?”

I nodded, stepping closer. There were people around, but I didn’t care. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”

She blinked, a little confused but nodded. “Sure.”

We found a quiet spot outside, where the cool night air contrasted the heat of the stadium. I could hear the distant hum of the city, but out here, it felt like we were in our own world.

“I can’t keep pretending anymore,” I blurted out, feeling my heart pound in my chest.

She frowned, clearly confused. “Pretending?”

“That we’re just friends, that I don’t feel something more for you,” I continued, my words rushing out now. “I think about you all the time, Y/N. I don’t know when it happened, but I can’t stop it. And I don’t want to.”

There was a long pause. Her eyes were wide, searching my face for something, and I suddenly felt vulnerable in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

“Taehyung…” she began, her voice soft, unsure. “This… this isn’t simple. Your life, the media… it’s all too complicated.”

“I know,” I admitted, stepping closer to her, “but that doesn’t change how I feel. We can figure it out, together.”

Y/N POV

His words hit me like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of me. I had always felt something for him, but I had convinced myself it was just admiration, a silly crush that would fade. But hearing him say he felt the same—everything suddenly became real. Too real.

I took a step back, shaking my head. “Taehyung, your life is in the spotlight. I don’t think I can handle that. The fans, the media… I’m just a regular person. This could ruin everything for you.”

He reached out, gently taking my hand. His touch was warm, grounding, and despite everything swirling in my mind, I felt safe.

“I don’t care about any of that,” he said softly. “You make me feel like myself, Y/N. Not Taehyung from BTS, but just… me.”

My heart ached with how sincere he sounded, but fear still gnawed at the edges of my thoughts. “But what if—”

Before I could finish, we heard a loud noise nearby, like someone had knocked over a piece of equipment. We both froze, eyes scanning the area, and that’s when we saw him—a man in a hoodie, crouched low, holding a camera. A paparazzo.

“Oh no…” I whispered, my stomach dropping.

Taehyung’s face darkened as he realized what was happening. Without a word, he grabbed my hand, pulling me with him as we started running. The man chased after us, his camera clicking furiously.

Taehyung POV

I could hear the footsteps behind us, the sound of the camera capturing every moment as we ran through the maze of equipment and staff. My heart was pounding, but not from fear—anger surged through me. How had they found us here?

I pulled Y/N closer, trying to shield her from the relentless photographer. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid. The invasion of privacy, the way they would twist this moment into something ugly.

We ducked into a nearby storage room, slamming the door behind us. Both of us were breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through our veins.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice rough from running.

Y/N nodded, though her eyes were filled with worry. “What happens now? He… he got pictures of us.”

I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling up. “I’ll handle it. I’ll talk to the company. But Y/N, I don’t want you to be scared of this. I’ll protect you.”

She looked at me with wide eyes, the weight of everything settling in. “Taehyung, this isn’t just about me. Your career, your life… are you really willing to risk all of that?”

Without hesitation, I stepped closer, cupping her face in my hands. “I’m willing to risk it for you.”

Y/N POV

The intensity in his eyes made me believe him. In that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just us. The chaos of the past few minutes, the fear of the media, it all seemed to melt away as I looked into his eyes.

I didn’t know what the future held. I didn’t know if we could really survive the pressure of his fame, the scrutiny of the public, but I knew one thing—I loved him.

Slowly, I leaned in, closing the gap between us. Our lips met, soft and gentle at first, but filled with all the emotion we’d been holding back for so long. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like this was where

we were meant to be.

When we pulled back, Taehyung rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“No matter what happens, I’m not letting go of you,” he whispered.

And in that moment, I believed him.

End

[linnitheo]

Racing hearts

Max Verstappen x Y/N Fanfiction

Y/N POV

The roar of the engines was deafening as the cars flew past, the vibration of the circuit reaching the soles of my shoes, even though I was standing far from the track itself. The stands were packed, fans cheering as their favorite drivers raced by, but my eyes were fixed on just one car—Number 1, Max Verstappen.

It still felt surreal. I wasn’t just another fan admiring him from a distance anymore. A few months ago, I could have never imagined my life would change so much, and in such a whirlwind fashion. Now here I was, standing in the paddock as his girlfriend.

How did this even happen?

Flashback, six months earlier:

It had all started when I went to a Formula 1 race in Monaco. I was attending with my best friend, a journalist covering the event. Being around the paddock wasn’t new to her, but it was a whole new world for me. The exclusive vibe, the glamour, the loud roar of engines—it was intoxicating. Then, during the practice session, Max Verstappen had come over to where we were standing, exchanged a few polite words with my friend, and offered a smile that had taken my breath away.

Later that evening, at a post-race event, I found myself standing near the bar, awkwardly nursing a drink. Max had approached, and for a moment, I thought he was mistaking me for someone else.

“You were at the paddock earlier,” he said, his blue eyes piercing and confident. “You’re friends with that journalist?”

“Yeah, she covers the races,” I had replied, trying not to sound too starstruck.

We exchanged small talk, which quickly turned into longer conversations. Before I knew it, we were talking about everything from travel to racing, to how strange it was for someone like me, who didn’t know much about motorsport, to be so enthralled by it all.

By the end of that evening, he’d asked for my number.

Present Day, Y/N POV

The last few months had been a whirlwind of jet-setting between races, trying to balance my life with his. It wasn’t easy dating one of the most famous drivers on the grid. There were media obligations, travel schedules, and the constant fear of him getting hurt on track. But when Max was with me, none of that mattered.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to see Max walking toward me, wearing his Red Bull Racing uniform. His hair was tousled from his helmet, but his face lit up with a wide smile. Despite the race weekend intensity, Max always made time for me, something I loved about him.

“You nervous for today?” I teased, knowing full well that Max didn’t get nervous anymore.

He laughed, “Me? Nah. But you? Maybe.”

“I’m fine,” I smirked. “But you better win.”

He gave me a quick, playful kiss on the lips, before stepping back, looking down at me with that intense gaze of his. "I always do better when you’re watching."

Max POV

The lights went out, and I immediately jumped into the action, the sound of engines screaming around me. There’s always that moment, right after the start, where you can feel the tension between every driver. It’s electric, like we’re all holding our breath, waiting for someone to make the first move.

I didn’t hesitate. From third on the grid, I launched the car forward, squeezing between the Ferrari and the Mercedes. I knew Charles and Lewis would be tough to overtake, but I had something to prove today.

And not just to the fans or the team, but to Y/N. Ever since she entered my life, she gave me this strange sense of calm, like no matter what happened on track, I’d be okay once I was with her. But today, I wanted to show her what I could really do.

Lap after lap, I kept pushing harder, chasing down the front-runners. The radio chatter was constant, my engineer reminding me of tire wear, strategy, and the gaps behind me. But all I could think about was Y/N’s face when I crossed the finish line first.

Coming out of the final corner, I saw the checkered flag waving, and with a final burst of speed, I crossed the line.

P1.

The roar from the crowd was deafening, but all I could think about was getting out of the car and finding her.

Y/N POV

Watching Max cross the finish line first sent a wave of excitement through me. The crowd around me erupted in cheers, but I couldn’t hear anything except the sound of my own heartbeat. I ran toward the paddock, past security, and into the arms of Max as soon as he stepped out of the car.

He pulled me in tight, sweat and all, and kissed me with a passion that made the rest of the world disappear. I didn’t care about the cameras flashing around us, or the team celebrating behind us.

“You did it!” I exclaimed breathlessly.

“We did it,” he replied, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “You keep me grounded. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

For a moment, everything was perfect.

Max POV

But things rarely stay perfect for long in my world.

Later that night, we were driving back to the hotel when I noticed a car following us. It had been trailing us since we left the circuit, weaving through the streets of the city like it was trying to keep pace.

“Max… is that car—”

“I see it,” I cut her off, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

I could feel the tension rising. My life had always come with a certain level of risk. Racing at over 300 kilometers per hour on a track is one thing, but this… this was different.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with concern, but she trusted me. "Stay calm," I said, my voice low, trying to reassure her.

Suddenly, the car behind us sped up, getting uncomfortably close. I knew it wasn’t a fan or paparazzi; something felt off. I swerved into a side street, but they followed, their intentions becoming clearer.

“Max…” Y/N’s voice cracked with fear.

Without hesitating, I floored the gas, weaving through the narrow streets, the city lights flashing by in a blur. My heart pounded, but my instincts kicked in, just like they did on the track. I had to get us out of this.

The car behind us tried to keep up, but I knew these streets better. I took a sharp turn, pulling us into an alleyway and killed the engine. I motioned for Y/N to stay quiet as we watched the car speed past, missing us entirely.

My chest was heaving, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Slowly, I turned to Y/N, who was still gripping the seat.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but I could see the fear in her eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. But I knew one thing for sure—I would do anything to keep her safe.

Y/N POV

The next few days were tense. Max and his team tightened security around us, but it was hard to shake the feeling that we were being watched. Something had changed. Max had enemies on the track, sure, but this was personal.

Despite the fear, we stayed together, closer than ever. We had dinner in a quiet restaurant one night, hidden from the public eye. Max kept his hand on mine the entire time, his touch a reminder that no matter what was happening outside, we were stronger together.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he said quietly over the candlelight.

“I’m not scared,” I lied. I was terrified, but I couldn’t let him see it.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

I blinked, taken aback. He’d never said that before. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. But I knew, deep down, I felt the same way.

“I love you too, Max.”

In that moment, I realized something. Life with Max Verstappen would never be easy. There would always be danger, always be risks. But I was ready for it—because I loved him.

Max POV

As I held her hand, the world outside the restaurant felt far away. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time we’d face danger. My life was fast, chaotic, and unpredictable, but Y/N was the one constant that made it all worth it.

“I’m going to win the championship for you,” I said, squeezing her hand.

She smiled, but it wasn’t just her smile that gave me strength. It was the look in her eyes that told me she believed in me, in us.

Racing had always been my life, but now… she was my reason to race.

And nothing, no danger, no enemy, was going to take that away from me.

End

[linnitheo]

Through the Storm

"Are You Sure?" (Y/N x Jungkook)

Are You Sure?

Y/N could feel the tension in the air the moment she stepped into the room. Her eyes darted around, taking in the sight of Jimin, leaning casually against the wall, his expression amused as he watched Jungkook pace back and forth in front of him.

She knew what this was about—how could she not? Jungkook had been a bundle of nerves the past week, constantly second-guessing himself, and now, with Jimin pushing him, it was all coming to a head.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Jimin’s voice was calm but teasing, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.

Jungkook stopped pacing and glared at his friend. "I told you, hyung, I know what I’m doing."

Y/N, who had stayed silent until now, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

Both Jungkook and Jimin turned to look at her. Jimin's smile widened, clearly enjoying the tension, while Jungkook’s eyes softened the moment they landed on her. He looked nervous, which was unlike him. Usually, he was the confident, carefree type, but around her, there was a vulnerability that Y/N both cherished and worried about.

"Of course, I do," Jungkook replied, his voice quieter now. He walked over to her, hesitating for a moment before taking her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a nervous habit she had come to recognize. "I just… I don’t want to mess things up."

Y/N sighed softly, squeezing his hand. "Kook, you're not going to mess things up. But if you're not ready, that's okay too."

Jimin, still lounging against the wall, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just the innocent bystander here."

Jungkook shot him a look. "Innocent, my ass."

Y/N let out a laugh despite herself. Jungkook’s tension seemed to ease at the sound of her laughter, his lips twitching into a small smile. He loved making her laugh, even when he was anxious.

Jimin, sensing the moment had passed, straightened up and pushed off the wall. "Alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. But Kook," he paused at the door, glancing back at his younger friend, "just don’t overthink it. You already have her. That’s all that matters."

As Jimin left the room, the silence settled between them. Jungkook turned back to Y/N, his dark eyes searching her face for reassurance. Y/N smiled softly and reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face.

"Why are you so nervous?" she asked gently.

Jungkook let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just… everything with you is so important to me. I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want you to regret being with me."

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She had never doubted her feelings for him, not once. From the moment they had gotten closer, there had been an undeniable connection between them. Sure, there were challenges—there always were when feelings were involved—but she knew Jungkook was worth every second.

"Jungkook," she said softly, stepping closer to him, "I don’t regret anything. Being with you is the best decision I’ve ever made."

He looked down at her, his expression conflicted. "But what if—"

Y/N cut him off by placing her hand gently on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm. "No 'what ifs.' Just us. Right here, right now."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jungkook’s hand came up to cover hers, holding it against his chest as if anchoring himself to her. His eyes softened, the vulnerability still there but tempered by the trust they had built together.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, echoing Jimin’s earlier teasing question but with a seriousness that tugged at Y/N’s heart.

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes filled with affection. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

The tension in Jungkook’s shoulders finally eased, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. In that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, wrapped up in each other.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, the words so soft she almost missed them.

But she heard, and her heart swelled in response. She tilted her head up to look at him, meeting his gaze with all the love she felt for him. "I love you too."

Jungkook leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened, filled with all the emotions they couldn’t put into words. It was tender, yet passionate, a promise of everything they had yet to experience together.

When they finally pulled apart, Jungkook rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming out in soft puffs. "I’m sorry for overthinking everything."

Y/N laughed softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "You don’t have to apologize for that. We’re both figuring this out together."

He smiled, that familiar bunny grin that melted her heart every time. "Together."

Y/N nodded, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips. "Always."

And in that moment, with her arms around Jungkook and his soft smile still lingering, Y/N knew they were going to be okay. Whatever challenges came their way, they would face them together, hand in hand, just as they always had.

Jungkook wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. And that was okay. Because, as Jimin had said, they already had each other—and that was all that mattered.

The next few days felt like a whirlwind, with Jungkook and Y/N caught between the excitement of being together and the uncertainty that came with it. Despite their intimate conversation, Y/N could tell something was still bothering him.

She found herself sitting at the dorm one evening, flipping through the latest webtoon on her phone, while Jungkook was in the studio, working on some new tracks. The quiet was comfortable but heavy, as if both of them were trying to avoid something unsaid.

The door creaked open, and Jimin peeked in, his mischievous smile immediately catching Y/N’s attention.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the room like he owned the place. “You alone?”

“Jungkook’s working,” Y/N replied, setting her phone down.

Jimin nodded as if he expected that answer. “Busy as always, huh?”

Y/N smiled slightly. “Yeah. You know how he is. He won’t stop until it’s perfect.”

Jimin plopped down beside her, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. “And how’s he been? Still overthinking?”

Y/N sighed. “A little. He’s been trying not to show it, but I can tell. I just don’t know how to make him see that there’s nothing to worry about.”

Jimin regarded her with a thoughtful expression, the playfulness fading slightly. “Kook’s been like that since forever. He overanalyzes everything, especially when it comes to people he cares about. He just doesn’t want to let you down.”

“I know,” Y/N murmured. “But he’s not letting me down. I wish he’d believe that.”

Jimin tilted his head, looking like he was weighing his words. “You know,” he said slowly, “sometimes it’s not about convincing him with words. You’ve got to show him that you’re in this for the long haul. Actions speak louder, right?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What are you suggesting, Jimin?”

His mischievous grin returned. “Maybe you need to challenge him. Push him out of his head a little. Make him realize that you’re here for all of it—the good and the bad.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And how do I do that?”

Jimin shrugged casually, but there was a glint in his eyes. “I don’t know… maybe something bold. Like, I don’t know, a dare.”

“A dare?” she repeated, not sure where this was going.

Jimin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Jungkook thrives on competition, right? Daring him to do something he wouldn’t normally do might break that wall he’s been building in his head.”

Y/N considered it. “What kind of dare?”

Jimin leaned in conspiratorially. “Something that will make him stop overthinking and just act. You know, get him to be in the moment.”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of pushing Jungkook out of his comfort zone. She knew Jimin was right—sometimes, the best way to get through to Jungkook was by shaking things up. A playful challenge might be exactly what they needed.

“All right,” she said, standing up with new determination. “Let’s do this.”

Later that night, Y/N found Jungkook still hunched over his desk in the studio, the soft glow of the monitor illuminating his focused expression. His headphones covered his ears, and he was bobbing his head slightly to the beat, completely engrossed in his work.

Y/N stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him with a fond smile. As much as she loved seeing him so passionate about his music, she knew he was using it as a way to avoid his feelings—his fears.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked up behind him and gently tapped his shoulder. Jungkook flinched slightly, pulling off his headphones and turning to face her.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his voice surprised but warm. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re pretty focused, huh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I was just trying to get this right.”

“I know,” she said softly, sitting down beside him. “But I think you need a break.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her tone. “A break? What did you have in mind?”

Y/N grinned mischievously, her heart pounding a little at what she was about to suggest. “How about… a dare?”

Jungkook blinked in surprise. “A dare?”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning in slightly. “You, me, a dare. Let’s make a bet.”

His eyes sparkled with interest, though a hint of hesitation remained. “What kind of bet?”

Y/N smirked. “You always beat me at everything—video games, sports, even karaoke. So this time, let’s see if you can beat me at something new.”

Jungkook’s competitive side kicked in immediately, the tension in his body easing as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s the dare?”

Y/N’s heart raced. She hadn’t fully thought this through, but Jimin’s words echoed in her mind. She had to make him feel confident, make him act on his instincts rather than overthinking. Something bold.

“I dare you…” she began, looking him straight in the eye, “…to kiss me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the sudden challenge. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to her lips before quickly looking away.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, echoing the same question from before, his vulnerability showing again.

Y/N nodded, her voice steady even though her heart was racing. “I’m sure.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly fighting with himself. But then, something shifted in his expression. The hesitation faded, replaced by the familiar fire of determination Y/N loved so much. Without another word, Jungkook leaned forward, cupping her face gently with one hand as his lips found hers.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he was still making sure this was real. But as Y/N responded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, and all the doubts seemed to melt away.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Jungkook rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed. He didn’t say anything, but the relief and emotion on his face spoke volumes.

“You’re not going to lose me, Kook,” Y/N whispered softly. “You never were.”

Jungkook opened his eyes, meeting hers with a new sense of confidence. He smiled, a genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth. “I believe you.”

And in that moment, Y/N knew they had crossed a line. It wasn’t just a kiss or a dare. It was a promise—one that neither of them would ever break.

The days following their kiss felt different. It wasn’t the usual shift that came after a relationship milestone; it was something deeper, something that grounded both Y/N and Jungkook in a way neither of them had expected.

Jungkook had always been intense—whether it was about his music, his workouts, or even the smallest things, like deciding what to eat. He poured himself into everything. But when it came to their relationship, that intensity had a new layer. After their kiss, it was as if a weight had lifted off him, and now he wore his love for her as openly as he did his passion for music.

One night, a few days later, Y/N found herself in Jungkook’s room at the dorms. The others were out, leaving them in the rare quiet that the dorm never usually had. Jungkook sat on the edge of his bed, his guitar in his hands, absently strumming a few soft chords while Y/N lay sprawled on the bed, her head resting on one of the pillows as she watched him with a soft smile.

The way he focused when he played, his brow furrowing in concentration, was one of her favorite things about him. Music was his safe place. It always had been. But what she loved even more was how much he’d started to share it with her. Little things, like humming a melody he was working on or asking her what she thought of a lyric idea. It made her feel closer to him, more woven into the fabric of his life.

"How’s the song coming along?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Jungkook paused, looking up at her with a small smile. "It’s getting there. I was thinking of making the bridge a bit more stripped back, maybe just the guitar."

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, curious. "Can I hear it?"

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to her, a hint of nervousness crossing his face, but then he relaxed. He trusted her. He knew she wasn’t here to judge, only to listen. Without saying anything, he began to play.

The melody was gentle, almost intimate, and Y/N closed her eyes as the notes filled the room. His voice, when he started singing, was low and soft, like he was sharing a secret only meant for her. The lyrics were simple but filled with emotion—about holding on, about being afraid but finding strength in love.

As he reached the bridge, the one he’d mentioned, the music faded into just the soft strum of the guitar, his voice almost a whisper now. And as the last chord rang out, there was a moment of stillness. Y/N opened her eyes to find Jungkook watching her closely, like he was waiting for her reaction.

“That was beautiful,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

Jungkook blushed, a soft chuckle escaping him as he set the guitar down beside him. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was too… soft.”

Y/N shook her head, sitting up fully now. “No, not at all. It’s perfect. It feels… real.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. There was no need for words. It was that same quiet understanding they’d shared since the beginning—the kind that didn’t need explanations.

“You inspire me, you know,” Jungkook said after a moment, his voice soft. “A lot of the time when I write, I’m thinking about us.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his confession. She smiled, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “I’m happy I can be a part of it.”

Jungkook shifted closer to her on the bed, his hand reaching out to take hers. His fingers traced small circles on the back of her hand, a habit he’d developed whenever they were close. It was a simple gesture, but one that always made Y/N feel warm.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jungkook started, his voice quieter now, like he was unsure how to say what was on his mind.

“About what?” Y/N prompted, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking down to their joined hands before looking back up at her. “About the future. Us. I know I’ve been in my head a lot recently, and I don’t want you to think I’m doubting us, but… I just want to be sure that I’m doing right by you.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at his words. She knew Jungkook’s biggest fear was not being enough, not living up to the expectations he set for himself. But she also knew that those fears were unfounded. He was everything she could ever want—kind, passionate, fiercely loyal. She didn’t need him to be perfect. She just needed him to be him.

“Kook,” she said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t expect you to have all the answers, and I don’t need you to be perfect. I just want you to be yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his breath steadying. When he opened his eyes again, there was a determination there—a quiet but strong resolve that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I want to make a promise to you, Y/N.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “A promise?”

Jungkook nodded, sitting up straighter now, his gaze never leaving hers. “I promise that I’ll always try. No matter what happens, no matter how hard things get, I’m going to keep trying. For us. For you.”

His words hung in the air, filled with sincerity and emotion. Y/N could feel the weight of them, the way they settled into her heart like an anchor. It wasn’t a grand declaration or a sweeping gesture, but it was real. And that meant more to her than anything.

She smiled, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she whispered, “I promise the same.”

Jungkook smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made her heart flutter all over again. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest as they sat there, holding each other in the quiet of the room.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The promises they had made were enough. And as they sat there, wrapped up in each other, Y/N realized that she didn’t need anything more than this—this quiet, this connection, this love that they had built together.

Jungkook wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. And in the end, that was what made them perfect for each other.

The night after their quiet promises, everything between Y/N and Jungkook felt deeper, more solid, as if the quiet moments they shared had built an unbreakable foundation. They weren’t the type to rush things—they let their relationship evolve naturally, both of them learning to embrace the little things.

But despite the warmth of those moments, Y/N noticed something lingering in Jungkook’s eyes. There was a flicker of uncertainty, a shadow of fear that she knew all too well. It wasn’t loud, and he wasn’t vocal about it, but it was there, beneath the surface. And she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

One evening, as they were curled up on the couch watching a movie, Y/N’s attention was far from the screen. Her head rested on Jungkook’s shoulder, but her thoughts were on him—on the walls he was still holding up, even after their promises. He was trying, she knew that. But there was something he wasn’t saying.

She tilted her head to look up at him. His face was illuminated by the dim light of the TV, eyes focused but distant, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her arm as they sat together. He looked peaceful, but there was a tension in his posture that she couldn’t ignore.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Jungkook turned his head slightly, glancing down at her with a small smile. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to bring it up. But she couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when she knew he was still carrying something heavy. “You’ve been… quiet lately. Not just tonight, but in general. Is everything okay?”

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard by the question. He shifted a little, as if trying to brush off the concern, but Y/N wasn’t going to let him retreat into himself this time.

“I’m fine,” he said softly, though his tone lacked conviction. “Just been busy with work, you know?”

Y/N gave him a look, one that told him she wasn’t buying it. “Kook… you don’t have to pretend with me. I know when something’s bothering you.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching slightly. The silence stretched between them, and Y/N could feel him pulling back—not physically, but emotionally. It was a familiar dance, one that had happened before when he felt overwhelmed. But this time, she wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. “Please.”

Jungkook’s grip on her hand tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. His eyes stayed fixed on the TV screen, but she knew he wasn’t really watching it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Y/N’s heart clenched at the raw honesty in his words. She sat up a little, turning her body to face him fully. “Scared of what?”

Jungkook let out a long breath, his eyes still avoiding hers. “Of not being enough for you. Of screwing this up somehow. I know we’ve talked about it before, but… it’s still there. That fear. You mean so much to me, Y/N, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten as she listened to him. She had known he was struggling, but hearing the vulnerability in his voice—hearing how deeply his fears ran—hit her harder than she expected. She squeezed his hand, leaning in closer.

“You’re not going to lose me,” she said softly, her voice filled with as much conviction as she could muster. “You won’t.”

Jungkook finally turned to look at her, his eyes dark and filled with a depth of emotion that made her heart ache. “I just… I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And it scares me how much I care. I keep thinking… what if I mess up? What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Y/N replied firmly, her gaze never wavering. “I know you, Jungkook. You’d never hurt me. And even if we have challenges, we’ll face them together. That’s what being in a relationship is about. We’ll have ups and downs, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook looked at her, his expression softening, but the doubt was still there, lingering in the back of his mind. “What if one day you wake up and realize I’m not enough for you? What if… what if you get tired of me?”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs gently brushing against his skin. “That’s never going to happen. Jungkook, I love you. All of you. The way you care so deeply, the way you always put your whole heart into everything you do. I love you for who you are—not for some idea of perfection.”

Tears shimmered in Jungkook’s eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. He had always been so strong, so determined, but in moments like this, Y/N saw the vulnerability he tried to hide from the world.

“I’m not perfect,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

Y/N smiled softly, pressing her forehead against his. “You don’t have to be. I don’t want perfect. I just want you.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling as they held onto each other. Jungkook’s hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in that familiar, comforting way.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “I’m really trying.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered back, her voice soft but steady. “And that’s enough for me.”

Jungkook’s eyes met hers again, and this time, there was something different in them—something stronger. The vulnerability was still there, but so was a quiet determination, a resolve to keep fighting for what they had.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, and when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers once more. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that made Y/N’s heart swell.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his cheek. “And we’re going to be okay. No matter what.”

As they sat there in the quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the TV in the background, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over them. It wasn’t the kind of peace that came from having all the answers, but the kind that came from knowing they didn’t need to have them all right now.

They had each other. And for now, that was more than enough.

A few weeks passed, and while things between Y/N and Jungkook had become more open, more emotionally honest, there were still moments when Jungkook seemed distant. He was trying—Y/N could see it in the way he always made time for her, in the way his hands lingered on hers when they sat together, in the soft kisses he’d place on her forehead when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. But there was still a tension between them, a space that neither of them had quite figured out how to close.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the studio, Jungkook came home exhausted. Y/N was waiting for him in the kitchen, having made dinner for them both. She had hoped a quiet evening together would help them reconnect, but as soon as he walked in, she could tell something was off. His usual bright energy was dim, his shoulders tense, and the light that normally filled his eyes was clouded over with frustration.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, her voice soft as she approached him. She reached out, gently touching his arm.

Jungkook nodded, though the gesture was half-hearted. “Yeah… just tired,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “The song’s not coming together the way I want it to. Feels like I’m hitting a wall.”

Y/N frowned, sensing his frustration. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help.”

Jungkook shook his head, giving her a small, forced smile. “Nah, it’s fine. I just need to clear my head.”

Y/N bit her lip, watching him as he walked past her, heading for the bathroom to wash up. She knew he wasn’t just tired from work. It was something deeper, something that had been building for a while. The more they opened up to each other, the more it seemed like Jungkook was struggling with something inside himself—something he couldn’t quite name.

Later that night, they sat down for dinner, but the usual light banter between them was absent. The conversation was stilted, filled with small talk about work and schedules. Y/N could feel the growing distance, like an invisible wall had sprung up between them, and it was starting to weigh heavily on her heart.

After dinner, they sat on the couch, but instead of pulling her close like he usually did, Jungkook sat with a bit of space between them, his eyes glued to his phone as he scrolled through emails. Y/N tried to focus on the movie playing, but her attention kept drifting to him—to the way his jaw was clenched, the way his fingers drummed against his thigh in a nervous rhythm.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Kook,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “Can we talk?”

Jungkook looked up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He set his phone down, his expression guarded. “Talk about what?”

Y/N sighed, her heart heavy. “About us. About… whatever’s going on.”

Jungkook frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean? I thought things were good between us.”

“They are,” Y/N said quickly, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. “But lately, it feels like you’ve been… pulling away. Like there’s something on your mind that you’re not telling me.”

Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Y/N’s heart sank at the sight of him retreating into himself again.

“I just don’t want to put my stress on you,” Jungkook finally said, his voice low. “You already have enough to deal with, and I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

Y/N shook her head, reaching for his hand. “Kook, we’re in this together. You’re not burdening me. I want to help you, but I can’t if you won’t let me in.”

Jungkook sighed, his thumb gently brushing against her hand. “I know. I’m just… I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like I’m stuck between wanting to be the best version of myself for you and constantly feeling like I’m not enough. Every time I try to shake it off, it just comes back. It’s like… no matter how hard I try, I keep doubting myself.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She had known he was struggling, but hearing the depth of his insecurities made her realize just how hard he’d been trying to keep it all together for her. She squeezed his hand, pulling him closer to her.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me,” she said softly. “I’ve never asked you to be.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. “But it’s hard not to want to be. I see you and how patient you’ve been with me, how much you care… and I feel like I’m failing at giving you what you deserve.”

Y/N leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re not failing. You’re doing more than enough, Kook. I love you for who you are, not for who you think you should be.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as if the weight he had been carrying finally became too heavy. “I’m just scared, Y/N. Scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m not worth it.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. She could hear the pain in his voice, the fear that had been plaguing him for so long. But more than that, she could hear how much he loved her—how deeply he cared.

She reached out, cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m never going to wake up and feel that way. Do you hear me? You’re more than worth it, Jungkook. You’ve always been.”

Jungkook looked at her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. When he found none, his expression softened, and he leaned into her touch. “I don’t deserve you.”

Y/N shook her head, her fingers gently brushing against his skin. “That’s not true. You deserve to be loved, Kook. And I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you believe it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jungkook’s hand reached up to cover hers, holding it against his cheek as he closed his eyes, the tension in his body slowly melting away. Y/N could feel the shift in him, the way he was finally letting himself be vulnerable with her.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For loving me.”

Y/N smiled softly, her heart swelling with emotion. “Always.”

They sat there for a while longer, their hands intertwined, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air like a quiet promise. The space between them that had felt so large just moments ago was gone, replaced by a newfound understanding, a deeper connection.

Jungkook still had his insecurities, and Y/N knew it would take time for him to fully believe in himself the way she did. But she was patient, and she was willing to fight for him—for them. Because no matter how hard things got, she knew one thing for sure: they were worth it.

And as Jungkook pulled her closer, resting his head against hers, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her. They had a long way to go, but for now, they had each other. And that was more than enough.

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Jungkook’s relationship settled into a more comfortable rhythm. They’d navigated the hardest parts, or so it seemed, and there was a new closeness between them. Jungkook’s insecurities hadn’t disappeared overnight, but he was trying. He was more open with Y/N, letting her in on his doubts when they arose instead of shutting her out.

But life wasn’t always as smooth as they wanted it to be. Between his schedule with BTS and her own busy life, they rarely had time to themselves. Jungkook’s stress, though manageable now, ebbed and flowed with the demands of their world.

One evening, after a long day of rehearsals, Jungkook was unusually quiet again. Y/N had gotten used to recognizing the signs—his hands fidgeting more than usual, his lips pressed together in a tight line, and his gaze distant, even when they were in the same room. He’d come home later than expected, exhaustion written across his face as he dropped his bag by the door and muttered a quick “hey.”

Y/N stood up from the couch, concern lacing her features. “Kook? You okay?”

Jungkook nodded, but it was the same kind of half-hearted response he gave when something was bothering him. “Yeah, just tired.”

She walked over to him, brushing her hand against his arm. “You sure? You seem a little off.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “It’s just a lot, Y/N. I’ve got this comeback, we’re filming stuff for the tour… I feel like I’m drowning sometimes.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the weight he carried. Being in one of the world’s biggest groups came with intense pressure, and while he loved it, she knew it wasn’t easy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jungkook shook his head. “I don’t know if talking will help. I just—” He broke off, his frustration evident. “I just feel like I’m not doing enough. Like no matter how hard I try, I’m always falling short.”

Y/N felt a familiar pang in her chest. They’d been here before—this cycle of self-doubt, of Jungkook feeling like he wasn’t living up to some impossible standard he’d set for himself. She stepped closer, gently placing her hands on his chest. “Kook, you’re doing everything you can. You’ve been working so hard.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “I know you say that, but… what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She knew how deeply he felt things, how much he put on his own shoulders, but it hurt to see him like this—to see the person she loved so fiercely doubting himself over and over again.

“You are enough,” she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. “More than enough, Jungkook. You don’t have to be perfect all the time. You’re allowed to be tired, to feel overwhelmed. But please don’t think for a second that you’re not enough.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened as he looked at her, but she could still see the turmoil swirling behind them. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’m trying so hard.”

Y/N’s hand slid up to the back of his neck, her fingers gently threading through his hair. “I know you are. And I’m so proud of you for that. But you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You have me. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Jungkook didn’t respond. His eyes closed, and she could feel the tension in his body slowly start to ease. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and for a while, they just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the kitchen.

But the calm didn’t last long.

Later that night, after they’d settled into bed, Jungkook’s phone buzzed with a notification. It was from one of the producers he’d been working with, asking for a revision on a track they’d been finalizing. Y/N watched as his expression darkened, his earlier exhaustion settling back into his features.

“I thought we were done with this song,” Jungkook muttered under his breath as he typed a reply, his frustration building. “Why can’t they just let it be?”

Y/N sat up, her heart sinking. She hated seeing him like this, so on edge, so consumed by the pressure to be perfect. “Maybe you should take a break from it tonight,” she suggested gently. “You’ve been working on it non-stop.”

“I can’t,” Jungkook snapped, more harshly than he intended. He immediately regretted it, his eyes flickering to hers with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Y/N interrupted, her voice soft. “I get it. You’re stressed.”

Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just… it’s never enough. No matter what I do, there’s always something else. And I’m scared, Y/N. Scared that I’m going to let everyone down—you, the members, ARMY—everyone.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his voice. She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re not letting anyone down, Kook. You’re doing everything you can, and everyone knows that. But you can’t keep running yourself into the ground like this. It’s okay to take a step back.”

Jungkook looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and desperation. “I don’t know how,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words. She could see how much he was struggling, how hard he was fighting to keep everything together, but she knew he couldn’t keep going like this. He needed to rest, to breathe, to let himself be human.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m here for you. Always.”

For a long moment, Jungkook didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, his eyes filled with emotion, before finally pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, his breath shaky as he held her tightly.

“I’m scared of disappointing you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was barely audible. “I’m scared of losing you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his confession, tears welling up in her eyes. She pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands. “You’re never going to lose me, Jungkook. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, his hands gently gripping her waist as he rested his forehead against hers. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Y/N whispered, her voice filled with unwavering certainty.

They stayed like that for a while, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air like a storm that had finally passed. The tension between them had eased, and though there were still challenges ahead, Y/N knew they would face them together.

As they lay back down, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jungkook’s breathing eventually evened out, the exhaustion of the day finally taking its toll. Y/N stayed awake for a little while longer, her fingers gently running through his hair as she watched him sleep.

She knew there were still struggles ahead, that Jungkook’s fears wouldn’t disappear overnight. But she also knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t going to let him face them alone.

And that thought, more than anything, gave her peace.

The following days felt like a delicate balance—like walking on a tightrope between Jungkook’s intense schedule and the fragile emotional state he’d been carrying for weeks. Y/N did everything she could to be his support, but it wasn’t always easy. Every day was a new challenge for him, and even with their quiet moments of connection, Y/N could feel the pressure building inside him again.

One evening, after a particularly draining day at the studio, Jungkook came home looking worse than ever. His usual spark was completely gone, replaced by an exhaustion that weighed heavily in his eyes and posture. He threw his jacket on the couch and immediately headed for the bedroom without saying a word.

Y/N frowned, watching him go. She knew he was trying, but lately, it felt like every step forward came with two steps back. The fear that had been creeping into her heart was now an undeniable presence—what if this was too much for them to handle?

Taking a deep breath, she followed him into the bedroom. Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. The silence between them felt suffocating, and for a moment, Y/N wasn’t sure what to say.

“Jungkook?” she called out softly, stepping closer.

He didn’t look up, his voice tired and strained. “I can’t do this anymore, Y/N.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping further. “This… all of it. The pressure, the constant feeling of not being enough, the expectations. I feel like I’m losing myself. And I’m scared that… I’m dragging you down with me.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her pulse quickening. She could see the weight of his words—this wasn’t just about his career or the stress of being an idol. It was about them. The relationship they had fought so hard to build. And in that moment, Y/N realized just how deep his fear of failing had grown.

“Kook,” she said, sitting down beside him and placing a gentle hand on his back. “You’re not dragging me down. I’m here because I want to be with you, no matter how hard things get.”

Jungkook shook his head, his voice breaking slightly. “But I feel like I’m breaking, Y/N. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I can.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she watched him unravel before her. She had seen him struggle before, but this was different. This was deeper—like all the cracks he had been trying to hide were finally showing, and he didn’t know how to hold them together anymore.

“Then let me help you,” she whispered, her hand gently running up and down his back in a soothing motion. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Jungkook turned his head slightly, finally looking at her with eyes that were filled with so much pain, it made Y/N’s chest tighten. “What if I can’t? What if… I’m too far gone?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She didn’t want to believe that. She couldn’t believe that. Jungkook wasn’t too far gone—he was just lost in the chaos of everything he had been carrying for so long. But she could see how much it was hurting him, how much it was hurting them.

“You’re not too far gone,” she said firmly, taking his face in her hands. “You’re just… tired. You’re overwhelmed. And that’s okay. But you don’t have to keep punishing yourself for feeling that way.”

Jungkook’s lips parted slightly, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. He looked like he wanted to believe her, but something held him back, something that ran deeper than just the stress of his job. It was the same fear he’d been carrying all along—the fear that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough. Not for his career, not for his fans, and not for Y/N.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you too much to drag you through this.”

Y/N shook her head, her fingers gently brushing against his cheek. “You’re not hurting me, Kook. I’m here because I love you. I choose to be here, through all of this. But I need you to trust me. Trust that we can get through this together.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, his forehead resting against hers. His breath was shaky, and Y/N could feel the tension in his body as he tried to hold it together.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I feel like I’m slipping away from myself.”

Y/N’s heart shattered at his words, and she pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly. “You’re not losing me,” she murmured against his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way to get through it.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between them heavy but comforting. Y/N could feel Jungkook’s body relax slightly in her embrace, but she knew the battle he was fighting inside wasn’t over. He was still struggling, still carrying the weight of his own expectations and the fear of not being enough.

But Y/N wasn’t going to let him face it alone.

“I’m scared too, you know,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared of losing you, scared of not being enough for you. But I’m not giving up on us. No matter how hard it gets.”

Jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “You shouldn’t have to carry my problems, Y/N. You deserve better than this.”

“I don’t want better,” Y/N replied, her voice filled with conviction. “I want you.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N saw a flicker of hope in them. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to hold onto.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers once more, his hands gently cradling her face.

“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “I don’t deserve you.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart swelling with love for him. “You don’t have to thank me, Kook. Just let me love you. That’s all I want.”

Jungkook’s grip on her tightened, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. It was just them, holding onto each other in the quiet of their room, their hearts beating in sync despite the chaos that surrounded them.

And in that moment, Y/N knew that no matter how hard things got, they were going to make it. Because they had each other.

And that was all they needed.

In the days that followed, a subtle shift began to take place in their relationship. Jungkook, while still struggling with the pressure of his career, started to lean on Y/N more. He let her in—bit by bit—and it was a relief for both of them. But it didn’t mean that the weight he carried lessened. It only meant that now, they were carrying it together.

It was another late night when Y/N found herself sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone while waiting for Jungkook to return from the studio. They had been having more of these quiet evenings lately, with him working late and her trying to keep herself busy in his absence.

When the front door finally clicked open, Y/N glanced up to see him step inside, looking every bit as drained as he had the night before. His hair was damp from the rain outside, droplets trickling down his neck, but what worried her more was the distant look in his eyes. It was the same haunted expression he’d had before, the one that told her he was spiraling inward again.

“Kook?” she asked softly, standing up and walking toward him.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead kicking off his shoes and running a hand through his wet hair. He dropped his bag by the door and stared at the floor, the silence between them heavy and suffocating.

“Jungkook, talk to me,” Y/N urged, her voice gentle but firm as she placed a hand on his arm.

Finally, he looked up at her, and the sadness in his eyes made her heart ache. “I’m trying, Y/N,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands instinctively reaching out to take his. “It’s enough, Kook. You’re enough.”

Jungkook shook his head, his jaw tightening. “How can you say that when I feel like I’m falling apart? When every day I’m pushing myself to the edge just to keep up? I can’t even remember the last time I felt… happy.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. Hearing him admit that hurt more than she’d anticipated. She had known he was struggling, but to hear that he couldn’t remember feeling truly happy? It was like a punch to the gut.

“I hate seeing you like this,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I hate that you’re carrying all of this alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Jungkook said, his gaze softening as he squeezed her hands. “I have you. And I’m so grateful for that. But it’s not fair to you. I feel like I’m dragging you down with me.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping closer to him. “You’re not dragging me down, Kook. I choose to be here, remember? I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard it gets. We’re in this together.”

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing as if he was trying to hold himself together. Y/N could see the exhaustion etched into every part of him—the physical and emotional toll it was taking. She gently cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his damp cheeks.

“You’re not alone,” she repeated softly, her voice filled with conviction. “And you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out, one day at a time.”

Jungkook opened his eyes, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his gaze nearly broke her. He looked like he was holding on by a thread, like he wanted so desperately to believe her but didn’t know how.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to fix it all at once,” Y/N replied, her heart aching for him. “You just need to take a breath, step back, and let yourself feel everything. You don’t always have to be the strongest person in the room, Kook.”

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I’m not strong, Y/N. Not like people think I am.”

Y/N frowned, her hands tightening around his. “You are strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. But strength doesn’t mean you have to carry everything alone. It’s okay to lean on the people who care about you.”

Jungkook stared at her for a long moment, his expression torn between wanting to believe her and the weight of everything he had been carrying for so long. His shoulders slumped, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered against her hair, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

Y/N’s arms wrapped around him, her hand gently rubbing his back in soothing circles. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” she murmured. “But we’ll get through this. One step at a time.”

Jungkook buried his face in her shoulder, and for a long moment, they stood there, holding onto each other as if the world outside didn’t exist. Y/N could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, and though she knew the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy, she also knew that they were stronger together.

Eventually, Jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

Y/N smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, Kook. I’m here because I love you. And that’s never going to change.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered.

“You’ll never have to find out,” Y/N replied, her voice steady and full of love. “We’re in this together. Always.”

Jungkook nodded, his arms tightening around her once more as he pulled her into his chest. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the storm inside Jungkook’s heart slowly began to calm.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like they were going to be okay. They didn’t have all the answers, and the road ahead was still uncertain, but they had each other. And that, she realized, was all they needed.

In the days that followed, there was a noticeable shift between Y/N and Jungkook. It wasn’t as if all of their problems had disappeared, but there was a newfound understanding in the air, a quiet agreement to face things together, even if the way forward remained unclear. Jungkook wasn’t suddenly free of the burden he’d been carrying for so long, but the weight of it seemed just a bit lighter now.

Jungkook had started opening up more. He talked about his fears and doubts, his worries about the future, and the constant feeling that no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be enough. And Y/N listened—really listened—without judgment, offering comfort and reassurance whenever he needed it.

It was a fragile peace, but it was peace nonetheless.

One evening, Jungkook and Y/N were sitting together on the couch, a blanket draped over their laps as they watched the rain gently patter against the window. The TV was on, but neither of them was really paying attention. It was one of those quiet nights where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in the cozy warmth of their apartment.

Jungkook was resting his head against Y/N’s shoulder, his hand absentmindedly playing with the hem of her sweater. His eyes were half-closed, and Y/N could feel the rise and fall of his chest, steady and calm. He looked peaceful, and for once, Y/N wasn’t worried about what thoughts were running through his mind.

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Jungkook asked suddenly, his voice low and thoughtful.

Y/N glanced down at him, surprised by the question. “Different how?”

Jungkook shrugged, his fingers still lightly tracing patterns on her sleeve. “I don’t know. Like, if I wasn’t… me. If I wasn’t Jungkook from BTS. Just… a normal guy.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, considering his words. She had never really thought about it, but she knew that the weight of his fame was something he struggled with more than he let on. Being Jungkook of BTS was all he had known for so long, and sometimes, she wondered if he even remembered who he was outside of that.

“Do you wish things were different?” she asked quietly.

Jungkook was silent for a moment, his eyes distant as he stared out at the rain. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Sometimes I think about what it would be like to just… live a quiet life. No cameras, no expectations. Just… us.”

Y/N’s heart softened at his words. She could see the appeal of it—the idea of a simpler life, away from the constant scrutiny and pressure that came with being in the spotlight. But at the same time, she knew how much Jungkook loved what he did, how much he cared about his music and his fans.

“I think… no matter what life you lived, you’d still be amazing,” Y/N said softly. “Because it’s not the fame that makes you special, Kook. It’s you.”

Jungkook looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for a long moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You always know what to say,” he murmured.

Y/N smiled back, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I just know you.”

Jungkook’s hand found hers under the blanket, his fingers intertwining with hers as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

Y/N leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve love, Jungkook. You just have to let yourself be loved.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as if her presence alone could chase away the darkness that still lingered in the corners of his mind. He didn’t say anything for a while, and Y/N didn’t push him. She knew how difficult it was for him to open up about his fears, how deeply rooted his insecurities were. But little by little, he was letting her in, and that was enough for now.

After a while, Jungkook shifted slightly, sitting up straighter as he looked at her with a more serious expression. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his tone cautious. “About… taking a break.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. “A break?”

Jungkook nodded, his gaze flickering to the floor. “From everything. Work, music, the schedule… I don’t know how long, but I think I need to step away for a while. Just to breathe. To figure things out.”

Y/N could hear the hesitation in his voice, the uncertainty that came with the idea of stepping back from something he had dedicated his entire life to. But at the same time, she could see how much he needed it—how desperately he was craving a moment of stillness in a world that never seemed to slow down.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Y/N said gently, reaching out to take his hand. “If that’s what you need, then you should do it.”

Jungkook looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and fear. “What if… what if I lose everything? What if I take this break, and when I come back, it’s all gone?”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “You won’t lose everything,” she assured him. “Your fans love you, Kook. They’ll wait for you. And the people who care about you—your friends, your family, me—we’ll always be here. You’re not going to lose us.”

Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the worry didn’t completely leave his eyes. “I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t,” Y/N said firmly. “Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean you’re letting anyone down. It just means you’re putting yourself first for once. And you deserve that.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, as if he was trying to let her words sink in. He leaned back against the couch, his head resting against the cushions as he let out a long breath.

“I think I’m going to talk to the company about it,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know if they’ll go for it, but… I have to try.”

Y/N smiled softly, feeling a sense of pride swell in her chest. It wasn’t easy for Jungkook to admit when he needed help, let alone ask for a break from something as monumental as his career. But the fact that he was willing to take that step—to prioritize his mental health—meant more than anything.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Jungkook turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a soft, grateful smile. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“You don’t have to,” Y/N replied, her voice filled with love. “I’m with you, every step of the way.”

As the rain continued to fall outside, Y/N and Jungkook sat together in the warmth of their home, the weight of the world feeling just a little bit lighter in that moment. They didn’t know what the future held, but for now, they had each other. And that was enough.

Part 1

Part 2

[linnitheo]

The Speed of Love

Max Verstappen X Y/N

Y/N POV

The hum of engines filled the air, vibrating through my chest. The sun beat down on the streets of Monaco, casting long shadows between the narrow alleys and gleaming off the luxury yachts moored nearby. The Monaco Grand Prix—the crown jewel of Formula 1. A perfect blend of speed, glamour, and danger.

I adjusted my lanyard, the one that read VIP with Max Verstappen’s name under it. It still felt surreal being here, not just as a spectator but as someone close to Max—closer than the world knew.

I wasn’t just here for the race; I was here for him. The reigning world champion, Red Bull’s finest. But to me, Max was more than that. He was Max, the guy who made me laugh after long days, the guy who called me at odd hours from different time zones just to hear my voice, the guy who looked at me like I was his entire world even with millions of fans screaming his name.

Our relationship wasn’t public. Max wanted to keep it that way—out of the spotlight, away from the media frenzy. And honestly, I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred it. It was a lot easier to be “Y/N” rather than “Max Verstappen’s girlfriend.”

I slipped into the VIP lounge, a little early for the race, the excitement thrumming in the air. The usual suspects were all here—other drivers' families, sponsors, and some celebrities. But my eyes kept flicking toward the pit lane, where I knew Max was getting ready for the biggest race of the year.

As I watched the screens showing the chaotic energy in the paddock, my phone buzzed.

Max: “You in the lounge?”

Me: “Yeah. All set for your victory?”

Max: “Always. Want to see you before the race starts. Meet me near the garage?”

I felt my heart skip a beat. Even though we tried to keep it low-key, moments like these made it clear how much he cared. Glancing around to make sure no one would follow me, I made my way through the crowd, passing the Red Bull hospitality area and the rows of sleek, gleaming cars.

As I approached the garage, I spotted him—leaning casually against the wall, helmet in hand, looking like the calm before the storm. His eyes lit up when he saw me, that signature crooked smile spreading across his face.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low but warm as he closed the distance between us.

“You shouldn’t be distracting yourself before the race,” I teased, though my heart was racing.

“Couldn’t help it,” he murmured, eyes tracing my face. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“Really? Haven’t I been around for a few races you didn’t win?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep it light.

He laughed softly, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray hair behind my ear. “Maybe. But today feels different.”

There was a fire in his eyes—one that spoke of more than just his love for racing. There was something unspoken between us, the weight of his words lingering in the air.

“Good luck out there,” I whispered, resisting the urge to kiss him. There were too many eyes, too many cameras nearby.

“I’ll see you after the race,” he promised, voice husky as he pulled back and slipped his helmet on, instantly transforming from Max to Verstappen.

Max POV

The roar of the crowd was drowned out by the sound of the engine beneath me. Monaco. There was no room for mistakes here. One slip and it could be all over. But that’s why I loved it. The adrenaline, the precision, the danger. It’s what made me feel alive.

But even as I steered through the narrow streets, threading the car through barriers with millimeters to spare, my mind kept drifting to her. Y/N. She had this way of grounding me, of making the chaos of F1 fade into the background, even if just for a moment.

She was my escape, my reason to keep pushing harder, to keep winning. Because when I crossed that finish line first, it wasn’t just for me—it was for her.

The race was tight—Ferraris and Mercedes breathing down my neck, the pressure building as the laps ticked down. The walls seemed to close in, but I didn’t waver. I couldn’t afford to.

Lap 67. A yellow flag came up—some debris on the track after a crash behind me. I could hear my engineer’s voice crackling through the radio, but I barely registered it. My focus was singular. I could almost picture Y/N waiting in the paddock, her wide smile the moment I stepped out of the car.

The last corner approached. My tires screamed, the G-forces tugging at my body as I navigated the final hairpin. The finish line was in sight.

I punched it, every ounce of power surging through the car as I crossed the line first. Victory.

Y/N POV

The explosion of noise was deafening as Max’s car crossed the finish line. He did it. Again.

The rest of the world erupted in celebration, but all I could think about was seeing him. I hurried down from the lounge, making my way through the throngs of fans and team members. The Red Bull garage was a frenzy of high-fives and champagne, but I stayed on the outskirts, waiting for him.

And then I saw him. Helmet off, sweaty, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Max was enveloped by his team, but his eyes scanned the crowd until they locked onto mine.

Without thinking, he pushed through the crowd and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a corner, away from prying eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine—fast, hungry, full of adrenaline. I could taste the sweat and champagne on his lips, but I didn’t care.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and he was breathing hard—not from the race, but from the intensity between us.

“I told you,” he whispered, still catching his breath. “You’re my good luck charm.”

Max POV

Her lips against mine—it was the only thing I needed after that race. I could feel the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t from the win. It was from her. She had this way of making me forget everything. The noise, the pressure, the world outside. When I was with her, it was just us.

But there was something more tonight. Something I couldn’t put off any longer.

“Y/N,” I started, taking her hand in mine as I led her away from the chaos, toward the back of the paddock. “I’ve been thinking…”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but also a little cautious. “About what?”

“This,” I gestured between us. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I don’t want to keep you a secret. You’re more than just someone I care about. You’re…” I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “You’re everything.”

Her eyes widened, and I could see the emotions warring inside her. But before she could say anything, I pressed on.

“I know it’s a lot—the media, the pressure. But I don’t care about that anymore. I want the world to know you’re mine.”

Y/N POV

I was speechless. Max Verstappen, the man who had kept our relationship out of the spotlight to protect me, was now saying he wanted to go public. I knew what it meant—the scrutiny, the paparazzi, the endless questions. But looking into his eyes, full of certainty and love, I realized something.

I didn’t care either. Not anymore.

“I’m in,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the distant cheers. “I’m all in.”

Max smiled, that rare, genuine smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, pulling me close once more. “Because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

As the night of celebrations continued, we slipped away from the crowd, the world beyond the paddock melting away. Max and I walked down to the harbor, the twinkling lights reflecting off the calm water.

“Race you to the end of the dock?” he teased, that competitive glint back in his eye.

I laughed, already running before he could finish. Max caught up to me in seconds, his laughter mixing with mine as he scooped me up, spinning me around.

In that moment, there was no pressure, no danger. Just us.

And for once, it felt like I had won the race.

The End

[linnitheo]

Against All Odds (Part 2)

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Y/N’s POV

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. Lewis Hamilton had just asked if you wanted to meet up before he left for his next race. You stared at your phone, rereading the message multiple times to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. This was beyond surreal.

After a moment of internal panic and excitement, you typed back a quick response: “I’d love to! Let me know when and where.”

Your hands trembled as you hit send. What would you even talk about? How were you going to handle this without completely embarrassing yourself? Despite the anxiety bubbling inside, there was also a part of you that felt… calm. Lewis didn’t seem like someone who would judge you, and after the kindness he’d shown in his previous message, you had no doubt that this wasn’t just a pity invite. He genuinely seemed interested in getting to know you.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed again. “How about tonight? There’s a little place by the Thames that’s quiet. I could use the escape.”

You agreed, heart pounding in your chest. Tonight. You were going to meet Lewis Hamilton in person, one-on-one. The thought made you dizzy, but you quickly pulled yourself together. You had a few hours to get ready, and you were determined to make the most of this unexpected opportunity.

Lewis’ POV

Lewis sat back on the couch, glancing at his phone after sending the message. He wasn’t sure why he had reached out again. Maybe it was the way you had looked at him—like you saw the man behind the racing suit, behind the fame. There was something refreshing about that. Something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

As he stared out of the window of his London hotel room, the city’s skyline illuminated in the distance, he felt a strange sense of anticipation. This wasn’t like meeting fans at events or signing autographs. It was something more personal. He wondered what you would be like in a quieter setting, away from the noise of the crowd and the cameras.

Part of him felt guilty for dragging you into his world. He had seen the backlash you were getting online. People assumed things about you, about your motives. He hated that side of fame—the assumptions, the cruelty, the lack of privacy. He didn’t want you to get hurt just because you’d had a chance encounter with him.

But something told him this was worth pursuing, even if it was just for one night of normalcy.

Y/N’s POV

Later that evening, you arrived at the spot Lewis had mentioned—a quaint little café near the river. The warm lights from inside cast a soft glow across the cobblestone street, and you could hear the faint sounds of jazz music playing in the background. You spotted Lewis at a corner table by the window, dressed casually in a black hoodie and a cap pulled low over his face. He looked completely different from the man on the racetrack, but there was no mistaking him.

As you approached, he looked up and smiled, standing to greet you. “Hey, you made it,” he said warmly, pulling out a chair for you.

“I almost didn’t believe it was real,” you admitted with a laugh, sitting down. “I feel like I’m in a dream.”

He chuckled. “It’s real, I promise. How have you been holding up? I saw some of the stuff online. I hope it hasn’t been too much.”

You appreciated the concern in his voice. “It’s… been a lot. But I’m okay. I didn’t expect any of this to happen.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, looking out at the river. “I get it. I’m sorry you got pulled into it. People can be harsh when they don’t know the full story.”

There was a moment of silence as the two of you took in the peaceful surroundings. It felt strange, being here with him like this, but at the same time, it felt right. The conversation flowed easily, moving from the chaos of race weekends to more personal topics. You talked about your life, your job, your love for racing, and how you had admired Lewis for years—not just for his skills on the track, but for the way he used his platform to speak out on important issues.

Lewis listened intently, nodding along as you spoke. When it was his turn, he shared stories from his early career, about the pressure he had faced as the first Black driver in F1, about the sacrifices he had made along the way. He opened up in a way you hadn’t expected, and it made you realize that beneath the fame and success, he was just a person trying to navigate life like everyone else.

As the night went on, you both seemed to forget about the world outside. The hours slipped by unnoticed until the café was nearly empty, the soft hum of the city outside the only reminder that time was passing.

But just as you were about to suggest leaving, Lewis’ phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his expression hardening slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone. “Something’s come up.”

You watched as he quickly typed out a response, his face a mask of concentration. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. You had been having such a great time, and now reality was crashing back in.

“It’s okay,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment. “I understand.”

But Lewis shook his head. “It’s not what you think. There’s some drama back at the team—something about the media running with a story about us.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I thought we’d get away from all of that tonight.”

Your heart sank. “What kind of story?”

“Apparently, someone caught wind of us meeting up tonight. They’re spinning it into something more than it is. They’re saying you’re just using me for attention.” His voice was tight with frustration.

Your chest tightened. Of course, the media would twist things. You had prepared yourself for that, but hearing it from Lewis made it feel more real, more damaging.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” you said quietly, feeling a weight settle over you. “Maybe it’s better if we don’t—”

“No.” Lewis cut you off, his eyes locking with yours. “This isn’t your fault, and I don’t care what they say. I wanted to meet you, and I’m glad I did. I’m just… tired of all of this. The scrutiny. The constant judgment.”

You were about to respond when the door of the café suddenly swung open, and a man with a camera stepped inside. His eyes locked onto you and Lewis, and before you could react, the flash went off.

Lewis was on his feet in an instant, his hand gripping your arm protectively. “We need to go. Now.”

You barely had time to process what was happening before he was leading you out the back door, into the cool night air. Your heart raced as you followed him down a narrow alley, the sound of footsteps behind you growing fainter as you turned the corner.

When you finally stopped, Lewis turned to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration and apology. “I’m so sorry about this. I didn’t think anyone would find us here.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice steady despite the adrenaline still pumping through you. “I knew this could happen.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just didn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

You smiled softly, taking a step closer to him. “I’m not scared, Lewis. I’m here because I want to be.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find something he hadn’t realized he was missing. Then, before you could react, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss.

When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with uncertainty, as if he wasn’t sure what to expect. But you smiled, your heart pounding in your chest for an entirely different reason now.

“I’m glad I met you too,” you whispered.

And for the first time that night, the chaos of the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, standing together against all odds.

To be continued…

[linnitheo]

Close to the edge

Chapter Eight: A Glimmer of Normalcy

The next morning brought a cool, crisp breeze through the park, a welcome change from the stifling heat of the city. Y/N awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside, a brief but comforting reminder of the world before the chaos. The day was clear, and the park’s natural beauty offered a rare moment of tranquility amidst the turmoil.

Yeonghu and Alex were already up, preparing breakfast and conducting their morning checks. The atmosphere was different from the tense urgency of previous days; there was a sense of cautious optimism as they settled into their temporary refuge.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted, joining them at the small makeshift dining area. The park’s serene environment had provided a brief respite from their constant vigilance, and she felt a renewed sense of calm.

“Morning,” Alex replied with a smile. “We’ve got a bit of a break today. We can use the time to explore the park and see if there are any additional resources or potential hazards.”

Yeonghu nodded, his focus on a small fire he was building for breakfast. “We’ll also need to reinforce the building further. The park is a good place to rest, but we need to be prepared for anything.”

As they ate a modest breakfast, the conversation turned to their plans for the day. The park had potential, but they needed to ensure it was safe and that they had everything they needed for the days ahead.

After breakfast, they set out to explore the park more thoroughly. The natural surroundings were a stark contrast to the desolate city streets they had traversed. The park’s lush greenery and occasional wildlife provided a brief escape from the harsh realities of their world.

“Let’s check out the area around the park,” Alex suggested. “There might be some useful resources or signs of other people. It’s good to get a sense of the surroundings.”

They moved cautiously through the park, their senses alert for any signs of danger. The park was larger than it had first appeared, with winding paths and secluded areas that offered both opportunities and risks.

As they explored, they came across an old playground that had been largely overtaken by nature. The swings and slides were rusted and overgrown, but there was a small storage shed nearby. Yeonghu approached the shed, carefully prying open the door.

Inside, they found a collection of tools and some old but still functional equipment. It wasn’t much, but it could be useful for their efforts in fortifying the building and maintaining their supplies.

“This is a good find,” Yeonghu said, examining the tools. “We can use these to make some improvements to our shelter.”

Alex nodded in agreement. “We should also check the surrounding area for any additional resources or signs of other occupants. It’s important to be thorough.”

They continued their exploration, finding a small, abandoned convenience store near the edge of the park. The store had been ransacked, but there were still some useful items left behind, including canned goods and bottled water.

As they gathered the supplies, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Despite the challenges they faced, these small victories provided a glimmer of hope and a reminder of their resilience.

Back at their temporary shelter, they began to put their new resources to use. The tools from the shed were used to reinforce the building’s defenses, and the supplies from the store were carefully added to their stockpile.

The afternoon passed with a sense of purpose and productivity. The park, though still a reminder of their uncertain situation, had become a temporary haven that offered both comfort and utility.

As evening approached, they gathered around the small fire they had built. The conversation was light, focused on the small victories of the day and their plans for the future.

“We’ve made good progress,” Alex said, their tone relaxed. “The park has potential, and we’ve got some valuable resources. It’s a good place to regroup and plan our next steps.”

Yeonghu agreed, his expression thoughtful. “We need to stay vigilant, but it’s nice to have a bit of stability for now. It gives us a chance to focus on our long-term plans.”

Y/N looked around at her companions, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. The challenges they faced were daunting, but the support and camaraderie of her friends provided a small but significant source of comfort.

As night fell, they prepared for a quiet evening. The park’s natural surroundings created a sense of peace, and the occasional rustle of leaves was a soothing backdrop to their camp.

Y/N took a moment to reflect on their journey. The road ahead was still uncertain, but the progress they had made and the small victories they had achieved offered a sense of hope. The park, though temporary, had become a symbol of their resilience and adaptability.

As she lay down to rest, Y/N found a fleeting sense of normalcy amidst the chaos. The quiet of the park and the comfort of their temporary shelter provided a brief but welcome escape from the harsh realities of their world.

In the stillness of the night, Y/N closed her eyes and embraced the calm. The challenges they faced were far from over, but the support of her companions and the progress they had made offered a glimmer of hope for the future. For now, amidst the shadows and reflections of their world, there was a sense of peace and a renewed sense of purpose.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, a rare sight in their tumultuous world. The park’s tranquility was a welcome change from the constant vigilance of the city streets. Y/N awoke feeling refreshed, the brief respite providing a renewed sense of energy and purpose.

Yeonghu and Alex were already at work when Y/N emerged from the makeshift sleeping area. The two men were discussing their plans for the day, their voices low but filled with determination. The sense of camaraderie and shared purpose was evident in their interactions.

“Morning,” Y/N said as she joined them. “What’s the plan for today?”

Yeonghu glanced up from his map, a thoughtful expression on his face. “We need to continue reinforcing the building and ensure that it’s as secure as possible. We also need to start thinking about our next move. The park is a good temporary base, but we can’t stay here indefinitely.”

Alex nodded in agreement, pointing to a section of the map. “We should scout the area around the park for additional resources and potential hazards. If we can find a more permanent solution or a safer location, it could be beneficial.”

They spent the morning focusing on fortifying their shelter. The tools they had found in the maintenance shed proved useful as they repaired and reinforced the building. Every action was methodical and deliberate, ensuring that their temporary refuge would offer them the security they needed.

The day was also an opportunity for them to take stock of their situation. They carefully examined their supplies, noting what they had and what they still needed. The inventory they had compiled provided a clearer picture of their needs and priorities.

As the afternoon approached, they decided to take a break from their tasks and explore the park further. The weather was pleasant, and the park’s natural beauty provided a brief escape from their constant vigilance.

The trio set out on a leisurely walk through the park, their senses alert but their demeanor more relaxed. The park’s serene environment was a stark contrast to the desolation they had become accustomed to. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of wildlife provided a sense of calm.

As they wandered, they came across a small pond nestled in a secluded part of the park. The pond was overgrown with reeds and water lilies, but it offered a peaceful spot for reflection.

“This is a nice find,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “It’s a peaceful change from the city.”

Yeonghu nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the scene. “It’s important to find moments of peace when we can. It helps keep our spirits up.”

Alex agreed, sitting down on a nearby rock. “We should make the most of this respite. It’s a rare opportunity to relax and recharge.”

They spent some time by the pond, taking in the tranquility and enjoying the brief escape from their daily struggles. The simple pleasure of being in nature was a welcome change, and it provided a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos.

As the sun began to set, they made their way back to their shelter. The evening was spent organizing their supplies and preparing a simple meal. The conversation was light, focused on the small victories of the day and their plans for the future.

“We’ve made good progress,” Alex said as they gathered around the fire. “The park is a good temporary base, and we’ve managed to find some valuable resources. We need to stay vigilant, but it’s a positive step forward.”

Yeonghu nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ve established a decent base here, but we need to keep exploring and planning for the long term. Our goal is to find a more permanent solution and ensure our continued safety.”

Y/N looked around at her companions, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. The challenges they faced were significant, but the support and camaraderie of her friends provided a small but meaningful source of comfort.

As night fell, they settled in for the evening. The park’s natural surroundings created a soothing backdrop to their camp, and the quiet of the night offered a brief moment of peace.

Y/N took a moment to reflect on their journey. The progress they had made and the small victories they had achieved provided a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty. The park, though temporary, had become a symbol of their resilience and adaptability.

As she lay down to rest, Y/N felt a renewed sense of purpose. The challenges they faced were far from over, but the support of her companions and the progress they had made offered a sense of hope for the future. For now, amidst the shadows and reflections of their world, there was a fleeting sense of peace and a renewed determination to face whatever lay ahead.

In the stillness of the night, Y/N closed her eyes and embraced the calm. The road ahead was uncertain, but the small victories and the strength of her companions provided a glimmer of hope. As she drifted off to sleep, she found solace in the belief that, despite the challenges, they were moving forward and that there was a chance for a better tomorrow.

Next | Previous

[linnitheo]

Under the Checkered Flag

Max’s POV

The hum of engines filled the paddock, a familiar yet electrifying sound that coursed through Max Verstappen’s veins. Race day. It was a sensation he never got used to; the adrenaline, the anticipation, the pressure. He thrived on it. He was at the top of his game, the youngest world champion, leading Red Bull with precision and grit. And yet, amid all the controlled chaos of the F1 world, there was one thing — one person — who could make him feel more alive than the thrill of racing.

You.

You were unexpected in every way. A PR consultant initially, brought on board to handle the escalating media frenzy around his rising fame. You weren’t starstruck; if anything, you seemed immune to the glitz of the F1 world. No, you were sharp, quick-witted, and completely focused on your job. But Max had a way of breaking down barriers, and it didn’t take long before you were spending time together beyond just the track. He’d find reasons to hang around the media center, just to catch a glimpse of you juggling journalists and managing Red Bull’s image with effortless grace.

The morning of the Italian Grand Prix was no different. Max was already dressed in his race suit, helmet in hand, and ready to get to work, but his eyes scanned the paddock, searching. When he saw you, phone to your ear, clipboard in hand, he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. You caught his gaze and rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Focus, Verstappen,” you mouthed, a playful challenge.

“Always,” he mouthed back, though he knew his focus was already split.

Y/N’s POV

You hung up the call, trying to maintain your professional facade as you made your way through the throng of engineers, drivers, and media. Working with Max was unlike anything you’d expected. The guy was a force of nature on track, but off it, he had a way of drawing you in with that intense stare and unguarded charm.

It had started innocently enough — late-night debriefs that turned into long conversations about everything but racing. You found yourself laughing more, lingering in his motorhome even when your job was done. Max was magnetic, and resisting him felt impossible.

The paddock was bustling, everyone operating on a tight schedule as the race loomed closer. You found yourself watching Max more than you should, captivated by the way he moved with a casual confidence, like he owned the place. And maybe he did. He’d made it clear he was the one to beat this season, and his rival, Charles Leclerc, was hot on his heels.

Your heart beat a little faster as you watched him step into his car, every movement precise and deliberate. He looked up and caught your eye one last time before the helmet went on, a silent promise in his gaze.

You wanted him to win. Not just because it was your job to ensure Red Bull maintained their stellar reputation, but because you wanted it for Max. You wanted to see that victorious smile that reached his eyes, the one that was just for you when the cameras weren’t looking.

The lights went out and the race started, cars darting off the line with a deafening roar. You were on your feet in the garage, eyes glued to the screens as Max surged ahead, taking the first corner with the precision of a master. It was a tough race — Leclerc was relentless, the Ferraris faster on the straights, but Max was tenacious, finding grip where there was none, pushing his car to the absolute limit.

A collision on lap 38 had everyone holding their breath. Max and Leclerc side by side, neither willing to back down. You bit your lip, watching as Max held his ground, the two cars nearly touching at 300 km/h. Your heart pounded, fear mixing with exhilaration.

Max’s POV

Max could feel the pressure mounting. Leclerc was right on his tail, and the Ferrari was fast, too fast. But Max wasn’t about to let this one slip away. He had the inside line, and he was going to use it. They were wheel-to-wheel through the chicane, and for a moment, it felt like everything slowed down. He could hear his engineer in his ear, but it was white noise. This was it — the moment of truth.

Leclerc made a desperate lunge, but Max held firm, squeezing him just enough to make his point but not so much that they’d both end up in the gravel. It was aggressive, it was bold, but it was clean. He was through, and as he glanced in his mirrors, he saw Leclerc had backed off, finally conceding.

Max’s heart was racing as he crossed the finish line, the checkered flag waving above him. He did it. Another win. But as the adrenaline began to fade, his thoughts immediately drifted to you. He parked his car, the victory cheers filling the air, but his eyes were searching the garage, looking for you.

Y/N’s POV

The garage erupted in cheers, but you barely registered it. Max had done it. He’d held off Leclerc and crossed the line first, and you couldn’t contain the rush of emotion that surged through you. Relief, pride, something else you couldn’t quite name but felt every time you saw him.

You pushed through the throng of team members and media, making your way to where Max was climbing out of the car. He was surrounded by cameras, microphones thrust in his face as reporters fired off questions. But then his eyes found yours, and the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

He pushed past the reporters, striding toward you with purpose. Before you knew it, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. For a moment, you didn’t care who was watching. It was just you and Max, and the unspoken connection that had been building between you.

“You did it,” you whispered against his ear, feeling the tension in his body slowly release.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something there, something beyond the rush of victory. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours, the kiss hard and fast, filled with the pent-up energy of the race and something more.

It wasn’t until you pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, that you remembered where you were. The cameras were still flashing, the reporters still talking, but none of it seemed to matter. Max’s thumb brushed against your cheek, a small, intimate gesture that made your heart flutter.

“Guess the secret’s out,” he said with a chuckle, glancing at the cameras.

“Seems that way,” you replied, trying to catch your breath.

Max grinned, his hand still on your cheek, and for a moment, you saw the boyish charm that lay beneath the fierce competitor. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. “I’m tired of hiding how I feel about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the vulnerability in his voice something you hadn’t expected. You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing exactly what he meant. This wasn’t just a fling, or a distraction. It was real, and for the first time, you let yourself hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding on to.

Max’s POV

Max didn’t care about the cameras or the questions that would come later. All he cared about was you, and the way you looked at him like he was more than just a driver, more than just the face of a team. With you, he felt seen — truly seen. And as he held you close, he knew one thing for certain: this was just the beginning.

With you by his side, he could take on the world, both on and off the track. And as the crowd cheered and the cameras flashed, Max Verstappen, the fierce, unrelenting racer, found something he hadn’t even realized he was missing.

Home.

With you.

END

[linnitheo]

Hybrid: Between Two Worlds

Intro: It captures the essence of Jungkook’s dual nature as both a bunny and a human, as well as the growing connection between him and Y/N, who come from very different worlds. Does that title work for you, or would you like to tweak it?

Hybrid: Chapter 1 — Lost in the Woods

POV: Y/N

Your footsteps echo softly against the forest floor, the gentle rustle of leaves in the early evening air giving the woods a quiet, peaceful ambiance. You hadn’t intended to wander so far off the beaten path, but your usual hiking trail had called to you in a way it hadn’t before, as if something—no, someone—was pulling you deeper into the forest.

You check the time on your phone, the faint light flickering against the dimming sky. It's late, and the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in streaks of fiery pink and soft purple. Still, you continue, feeling an inexplicable pull. The chill of autumn whispers against your skin, but it's more than the cool air that sends shivers down your spine.

As you walk further into the woods, a strange feeling sets in—a mixture of curiosity and unease. There's something… someone close. You can feel it.

Your heartbeat picks up, matching the pace of your steps as the trees seem to close in around you, branches twisting overhead, blocking out the last bits of sunlight. You halt in your tracks, suddenly aware of how quiet the forest has become. No birds, no wind. Just silence. And then, you hear it—a soft whimper, barely audible, coming from somewhere ahead.

Your eyes scan the darkening underbrush, trying to locate the sound. Was it an animal? Injured maybe?

Without thinking twice, you move toward the sound, the foliage crunching beneath your feet as you push aside the bushes. That’s when you see him—a small, trembling creature curled up near a tree trunk, its fur a striking mix of black and silver, gleaming in the faint twilight. It’s a bunny. But not just any bunny—there’s something ethereal about it, something almost human in the way its wide, dark eyes lock with yours.

You crouch down slowly, careful not to scare it, your heart melting at the sight of its fragile form.

"Hey there, little one," you whisper softly, holding out your hand. "Are you hurt?"

The bunny’s eyes blink slowly at you, and you notice its body trembling slightly, almost as if it’s been lost for days, scared, and vulnerable.

You inch closer, cautiously, when suddenly the bunny lets out a soft whimper. Before you can react, a gust of wind sweeps through the clearing, and you instinctively close your eyes, bracing against the sudden chill.

When you open them, the bunny is gone. In its place… is a boy.

A boy.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stumble back, your mind struggling to make sense of what you’re seeing. He’s sitting there, where the bunny had been, dressed in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting pants, his body slightly curled up as if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. His hair is jet-black, tousled and wild, framing a face that is devastatingly beautiful—almost too perfect to be real. His lips are parted, and his wide, doe-like eyes stare up at you with the same intensity the bunny had.

"W-who are you?" you stammer, your voice shaky as you try to process what just happened. Your eyes dart to the spot where the bunny had been, but it’s impossible—the bunny and the boy… they can’t be the same.

The boy blinks slowly, his dark eyes filled with a strange, unreadable emotion. He looks scared, just as the bunny had.

“I… I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice soft and shaky, like he hasn’t spoken in days.

“Sorry?” you repeat, your heart still racing. “For what?”

"For scaring you," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks down at his hands, his fingers curling into the earth as if he’s trying to ground himself. "I didn’t mean to… I just… I got lost."

Your mind is spinning, trying to make sense of this impossible situation. "You… you were a bunny," you say, the words sounding ridiculous even as they leave your mouth.

He nods slowly, as if that should explain everything.

You blink at him, still unsure if you’re dreaming or if you’ve lost your mind. "What… who are you?"

His eyes meet yours again, and for a moment, there’s a flash of something vulnerable, something raw in his gaze. "I’m Jungkook," he says quietly, his voice so soft you almost miss it. "I’m… different."

POV: Jungkook

The girl in front of me stares at me like I’m something out of a nightmare. I don’t blame her. I’ve spent my entire life hiding, avoiding humans, avoiding her kind. But I couldn’t stay hidden forever. Not when I was so close to giving up.

I didn’t mean to show myself—I didn’t mean to let her see me. But the second our eyes met, something in me shifted. Something inside me told me she wouldn’t hurt me. She wouldn’t be like the others.

Her scent is calming, soft and warm, like the forest after the rain. It’s been so long since I’ve been this close to a human without fear. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t run. Instead, she kneels down in front of me, her expression still shocked, but her eyes filled with something else—curiosity? Compassion?

"How long have you been out here?" she asks, her voice quieter now, more gentle.

I hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Days? Weeks? Time doesn’t mean much when you’re always running.

"A while," I mutter. "I don’t… I don’t belong anywhere."

Her face softens, and she shifts a little closer, though still cautious. "Are you… alone?"

I nod, my heart sinking. The truth is, I’ve always been alone. Ever since I was abandoned. No pack, no family, just me—lost in a world that wasn’t made for people like me.

She’s quiet for a long moment, her gaze searching my face, as if she’s trying to decide what to do with me. I wouldn’t blame her if she left. It would be safer that way.

"Why don’t you come with me?" she says suddenly, and my heart skips a beat.

I stare at her, my mind racing. She’s offering me a way out—a chance to stop running. A chance to… belong. But I know it can’t be that simple. Humans don’t accept hybrids, and they certainly don’t accept someone like me.

"I can’t," I whisper, shaking my head. "It’s not safe."

"Safe for who?" she asks, her voice gentle, but there’s a sharpness to her gaze. "You? Or me?"

I can’t answer her. I don’t know.

She sighs softly, standing up and offering her hand to me. "I’m Y/N," she says. "And if you’re lost, then… I’ll help you find your way. Whatever that means."

Her hand hovers in the air between us, and for a moment, I hesitate. Can I trust her? Can I trust anyone?

But then, without really thinking about it, I reach out and take her hand.

And in that moment, something shifts—something that feels bigger than both of us. Something that will change everything.

Next

[linnitheo]

Against All Odds

Y/N’s POV

The roar of the engines was deafening, but it was the kind of noise that sent shivers down your spine in the best way possible. It was your first time attending an F1 race, and you could hardly contain your excitement. The atmosphere was electric; fans waved flags, donned team colors, and cheered passionately for their favorite drivers. You had saved up for months to make this trip to the British Grand Prix, specifically to see your favorite driver, Lewis Hamilton, in action.

Dressed in a black Mercedes-AMG Petronas cap and a Hamilton #44 t-shirt, you blended into the sea of fans. But you felt a personal connection to Lewis—his resilience, his drive, his commitment to social causes—all of it resonated deeply with you. You weren’t just a fan; you admired the man behind the helmet.

Finding a spot near the paddock, you leaned against the barrier, your camera ready to capture the action. The practice session was just about to start. You could see the drivers walking toward their cars, and your heart skipped a beat when Lewis stepped out of the garage. He looked focused, but there was a hint of a smile on his face, as if he was absorbing the energy of the crowd.

The session began, and Lewis was a blur of silver and black as he zoomed past, the high-pitched whine of the engine echoing in your ears. You snapped photos and recorded videos, occasionally stealing glimpses at the big screen showing his lap times. He was fast—faster than anyone else on the track.

After the session ended, the drivers made their way back to the garages. You waved your Hamilton flag, hoping to catch his attention, but you were one of many. Yet, as Lewis walked past, his eyes swept over the crowd and stopped on you. He paused, just for a split second, his eyes locking with yours. You felt your heart race, thinking it was just your imagination. But then, he smiled—a genuine, warm smile that seemed to reach his eyes—and gave you a small wave.

You stood there, stunned. Did Lewis Hamilton just notice you? The rest of the day passed in a blur, but that brief interaction replayed in your mind over and over.

Lewis’ POV

As Lewis walked back to the garage, his mind was already dissecting the practice session. The car felt good, but there were still adjustments to be made. He glanced at the crowd, acknowledging the fans who had come to support him. Then, his eyes caught sight of someone who stood out—a fan wearing his gear, waving a flag with his number on it. She wasn’t screaming or trying to get his attention like the others; she just stood there, smiling at him with a look of genuine admiration.

He found himself smiling back, almost involuntarily. There was something about her, something different. It wasn’t just her support; it was the way she carried herself, the sincerity in her eyes. He wondered briefly who she was, but then the moment passed, and he continued to the garage, brushing it off as just another fan encounter.

Later that evening, as he reviewed the data with his team, his mind kept drifting back to her. It was strange; Lewis had met thousands of fans, but there was something about this one that lingered in his thoughts.

Y/N’s POV

The next day was race day, and the excitement in the air was palpable. You arrived early, securing a spot with a perfect view of the track. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and when the race finally began, you were on the edge of your seat, heart pounding with every turn and overtake.

Lewis was driving brilliantly, making his way to the front of the pack. But then, halfway through the race, disaster struck. As he approached the chicane, he collided with another driver, sending his car spinning into the gravel. You gasped along with the rest of the crowd, your hands flying to your mouth as you watched the replay on the big screen.

The commentators speculated about the cause—maybe it was the tires, maybe a miscalculation. Lewis was out of the race, and the disappointment was palpable. You felt a pang of sympathy; he had been doing so well, and now it was over. But you stayed, watching as the marshals towed his car away and the race continued.

After the race ended, you hung around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lewis again. As the drivers began to leave the paddock, you saw him, walking with his helmet under his arm. He looked frustrated, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a tight-lipped expression.

You didn’t expect him to stop, but to your surprise, he did. He glanced around, almost as if he was looking for something—or someone. When his eyes found you again, he walked over, his expression softening slightly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice tired but still carrying that familiar warmth. “Thanks for coming out today.”

You were stunned. Lewis Hamilton was talking to you, and all you could do was stare, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Of course,” you finally managed, smiling up at him. “You were amazing out there, despite everything. I’m sorry about the race.”

He shrugged, his eyes meeting yours. “It happens. Just part of the game, you know?” He paused, studying you for a moment. “I saw you yesterday, by the way. You’ve got a great spot here.”

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Yeah, I got lucky. I’m a big fan, obviously. You’re… well, you’re an inspiration.”

Lewis seemed genuinely touched, his smile reaching his eyes. “That means a lot. What’s your name?”

You introduced yourself, and for a brief moment, the two of you chatted like old friends. It felt surreal, standing there talking to Lewis Hamilton as if you weren’t just another face in the crowd. Before he left, he pulled out a marker from his pocket and signed your cap, adding a small heart next to his signature.

“Thanks for believing in me,” he said, and with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind spinning.

Lewis’ POV

Back in his hotel room, Lewis couldn’t stop thinking about you. The race had been a disaster, but that brief interaction with you had been a bright spot in an otherwise frustrating day. He found himself wondering about you—where you were from, what you did, what had brought you to the race. It was strange; he barely knew you, but he felt a connection, as if there was something unfinished between you two.

The next morning, he woke up to a slew of messages from his team and sponsors, but one stood out—a photo of him talking to a fan, your face clearly visible as you smiled up at him. It was captioned with something about “Hamilton’s lucky fan,” and it was already going viral on social media.

He found himself smiling, saving the photo to his phone. There was something about that moment that felt different, special. But then, as he scrolled through the comments, his smile faded.

Among the usual chatter, there were negative comments too—speculations about who you were, why he was talking to you, and even accusations that you were just another fame-chaser. It was frustrating, but it wasn’t new. He knew how quickly the narrative could shift, how easy it was for people to assume the worst.

Y/N’s POV

You woke up to a flood of notifications—friends tagging you in posts, messages from people you hadn’t spoken to in years. When you checked your phone, you realized why. The photo of you and Lewis was everywhere, and the internet had already begun to speculate. Some comments were supportive, but others were not so kind.

You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter. But as the day went on, the negativity started to weigh on you. People were making assumptions about you, about your intentions, and it hurt. You had never asked for any of this; all you wanted was to support your favorite driver.

Later that evening, as you scrolled through the comments again, you received a direct message from an unfamiliar account. When you opened it, your heart nearly stopped. It was from Lewis.

“Hey, I saw the stuff online. Just wanted to say I’m sorry if it’s been rough. People can be… well, people. Don’t let it get to you. You’re awesome, and I’m glad we met.”

You stared at the message, rereading it several times. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. You replied, thanking him and assuring him that you were fine, even though part of you still felt overwhelmed.

Lewis’ POV

Lewis put his phone down after sending the message, hoping it would offer you some comfort. He knew how relentless the media could be, and he didn’t want you to get caught up in it. He had dealt with this kind of thing for years, but for someone new to it, he knew it could be overwhelming.

As the days passed, he found himself thinking about you more and more. He had intended to let it go, to move on and focus on the next race, but there was something about you that he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the way you had supported him; it was the way you had looked at him, as if you saw more than just the driver, more than just the celebrity.

Against his better judgment, he reached out again, this time asking if you’d like to meet up before he left for the next race. He didn’t know what he was expecting—maybe just a conversation,

END

[linnitheo]

Out of the shadows

Title: Out of the Shadows

Y/N's POV

The base was quiet, too quiet. The familiar tension was heavy in the air, as it always was, but today it felt unbearable. I stood by the window, staring out into the night, the darkness stretching endlessly beyond the walls. The monsters had been unpredictable lately—sometimes attacking with vicious fury, sometimes silent, almost as if they were watching, waiting.

I needed air. I needed to escape this oppressive atmosphere, even if just for a moment.

I had thought about it for days—leaving the safety of the base for a brief walk outside. It was dangerous, sure, but something inside me craved that small taste of freedom, the feeling of stepping into the open without the suffocating sense of being trapped.

When I heard some of the other residents planning a quick supply run, I saw my chance. I slipped out with them, unnoticed, keeping my head low and moving in the shadows. The adrenaline coursing through me was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The streets were eerie, the silence unnerving. I knew it wasn’t safe, but I kept telling myself I’d be careful, that I’d stay close to the others. But as the minutes passed, I couldn’t shake the growing sense of dread creeping up my spine.

Then, the growls started.

Yeong-hu's POV

"Everyone’s accounted for?"

The roll call was routine, something we did every night to make sure no one had gone missing. It was one of the few things that gave me some semblance of control in this chaos. I stood by the entrance, arms crossed, watching as the residents murmured among themselves, waiting for the final check.

One of the residents came up to me, her face pale. "Uh… there’s a problem."

My eyes narrowed. "What?"

"It’s Y/N. She’s not here."

My heart stopped. For a moment, I thought I’d heard wrong, but the look on her face confirmed it. Y/N wasn’t there. She had gone out. Without me.

"Where the hell is she?" I demanded, my voice barely holding back the panic that threatened to overtake me.

"I—I don’t know. We think she went with one of the groups that left earlier."

My mind spun. You had left, and no one had noticed until now. How could they have been so careless? How could you have been so reckless?

Without another word, I grabbed my gear. I didn’t need a plan, didn’t need anyone’s permission. The only thing that mattered was finding you and bringing you back—alive.

Y/N's POV

The growls grew louder, closer. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to move faster, the others urging me on. We had to get back. We had been stupid to think we could just sneak out without consequences, and now we were paying for it.

In the distance, I could hear the sickening crunch of one of the monsters moving through the rubble. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, and I gritted my teeth, willing myself to keep moving.

I darted into an alleyway, breathing hard, my chest tight with fear. The others had scattered, and now I was alone. The silence that followed was almost worse than the growls. Every shadow, every flicker of movement made me jump.

I had no idea where I was. I just knew I had to get back to the base before it was too late.

Yeong-hu's POV

I moved swiftly through the streets, my mind racing with every possible scenario. You could be anywhere—cornered, trapped, injured. And all I could think about was that I wasn’t there to protect you.

My grip tightened on my rifle as I stalked through the darkened streets, eyes scanning every shadow, every alley, searching for any sign of you. The city was a maze of ruins and danger, but I knew these streets well. I had to find you.

The growls echoed in the distance, reminding me just how close the monsters were. My chest tightened, fear clenching in my gut. You were out here, alone, with those things roaming the streets. The thought of losing you—it tore at me.

I should have been more careful. I should have kept a better eye on you. The world we lived in didn’t allow for mistakes, and this was one I couldn’t afford to make.

"Y/N!" I shouted into the darkness, my voice cutting through the eerie silence.

There was no answer. I kept moving, faster now, every minute that passed making my fear grow.

Y/N's POV

I crouched behind a stack of debris, listening intently. The sound of growling was getting closer again, and my heart raced in my chest. I knew I couldn’t stay here long, but I couldn’t run blindly either. If I made the wrong move, I’d be dead.

"Y/N!"

My breath caught in my throat. I knew that voice—Yeong-hu. Relief washed over me, and I stood, eyes scanning the shadows for him. I felt a surge of hope, but that hope was quickly replaced by fear. He had come out here, putting himself in danger, all because I had made a stupid decision.

"Here!" I called out, my voice trembling.

Within seconds, I saw him—Yeong-hu, standing at the entrance of the alley, his expression dark and intense. Relief flooded his features when he saw me, but I could see the storm behind his eyes. He was furious.

He rushed to me, grabbing my arm with a firm grip. "Are you hurt?" His voice was rough, edged with panic.

"No, I’m fine," I whispered, but the tension between us was palpable.

"We need to go. Now."

I nodded, knowing there was no time for apologies or explanations. Together, we sprinted back through the streets, the distant sounds of the monsters driving us forward. He didn’t let go of my hand the entire time, pulling me through the maze of the city until we finally saw the gates of the base.

Yeong-hu's POV

We made it back inside, the gates slamming shut behind us. I should have felt relieved that we were safe, but I wasn’t. I was still too angry, too shaken by the fact that you had been out there, alone.

I turned to you, my chest heaving with the effort of holding back my frustration. "What were you thinking?" I snapped, the words harsher than I intended.

Your eyes widened, and I saw the guilt written all over your face. "I—I just needed to get out. I thought I could help with the supply run."

"Help?" I repeated, incredulous. "You could have gotten yourself killed. Do you understand that? Do you know what it felt like not knowing if you were dead or alive?"

You lowered your head, and I immediately regretted the sharpness of my tone. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to calm the anger boiling inside me. It wasn’t just anger. It was fear. The thought of losing you scared me more than I wanted to admit.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice small, full of regret. "I wasn’t thinking."

I sighed heavily, taking a step closer to you. "Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I lost you?"

You looked up at me, eyes wide with surprise. I wasn’t good with words, but I needed you to understand. I needed you to know how much you meant to me.

"Please," I said softly, my voice breaking a little. "Don’t ever do that again. You don’t get to take those kinds of risks, not with your life. Not when it’s you."

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes. "I won’t. I promise."

Without thinking, I pulled you into my arms, holding you tightly, feeling the warmth of your body against mine. You were safe now. That’s all that mattered.

Y/N's POV

I melted into his embrace, the weight of the night finally hitting me. Yeong-hu held me as if he was afraid I’d disappear again, his grip tight but comforting.

"I’m sorry," I whispered against his chest, my voice thick with emotion.

His hand came up to the back of my head, fingers gently running through my hair. "I just need you to stay safe," he murmured, his voice soft, but the underlying fear was still there.

"I will. I promise."

In that moment, I knew how much he cared. This world was falling apart, and monsters roamed the streets, but as long as I had Yeong-hu by my side, I knew I could survive anything.

End

[linnitheo]

"What's that?" Carol asked curiously, looking at the piece of paper clutched in Daryl's hand.

"Dunno. Y/N slipped it to me just now. She had a—a weird look on her face."

"Well, hurry up and read it," Carol urged, smiling already. God, she hoped you were finally going to move things between you and Daryl along.

Daryl stared down at the familiar slant of your writing. "Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."

Carol's eyebrows lifted and Daryl looked up at her, puzzled. Carol laughed. "Well, she's either planning a romantic rendezvous or she's going to murder you," she laughed. "Depends on the tone you read it in."

Daryl scratched absently at the back of his head, a nervous gesture. He cleared his throat. "Feel like it's worth the risk," he said, unable to suppress a nervous smile.

"Oh, absolutely," Carol agreed. "I support this whole-heartedly." It was about damn time.

Prompt: "Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."