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𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽 | 𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓢𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓶𝓲𝓷 |

word count - 5,282

genre - smut (MINORS DNI!!!)

warnings - feminine terms, you/your pronouns, bsf! seungmin, cam girl! reader, mutual pining(?), seungmin spoils reader, swearing, sex toys, mentions of jacking off, orgasm denial, hand kink(?), dom!seungmin, sub!reader, pet names (good girl, darling, baby), pussy slapping, slight pet play, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, making out, marking, grinding, oral (m rec), face/throat fucking, dirty talk, begging, forced orgasm, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight belly bulge, lmk if I missed anything

You weren’t entirely sure when you had told Seungmin about your job. 

But considering that you had kept it a secret for so long during your friendship, you couldn’t hold it back anymore when it was getting harder and harder to hide the lingerie from him, especially when he’d stay the night at your place.

You had a pretty tame set up, nothing too dramatic, however you had a completely different room for it, and Seungmin was starting to get suspicious when you’d cancel plans with him when a fan of yours wanted a private room with you. 

He sat you down, and made you talk.

-a few months ago-

“What’s going on? You keep canceling pre-made plans and make up some dramatic lie.” He watched your posture shift into a slouch as you sigh. You really couldn’t hide in anymore, could you? He had you cornered.

“Guess I really can’t hide it from you any longer, can I?” You huffed out, clearing your throat as you began to avoid eye contact, something you never really did with him.

“Well…?” He edged on, raising a brow at you.

“I’m a cam girl– more simply put I d–”

“I know what they are…” He almost immediately cut you off before you could start explaining. You watched him relax into the couch, looking at how nervous you seemed.

“Are you uncomfortable with that? At all? I mean you’re my best friend. I don't want you to think I’m like a slut or something..” You began to explain, and that made his brows furrow.

“Why would I think of you as a slut? It’s your life, Y/N. You get to choose what you do for a living, and if making money with your body is what you like doing, then so be it. I wouldn’t think of you any less.” He had such a sweet smile on his face, it made your heart melt from it.

-two weeks before-

Now he was buying you things. He bought your lingerie sets, sex toys you really wanted for some time now, and he’d even watch over and kick out any creeps that showed up, ones that were majorly disrespectful and didn’t respect your boundaries.

..But watching over your lives made him hornier than he thought he’d be. Instead of watching over the entire thing, he’d end up jacking off and trying to line up his release with yours as best as possible. 

Orgasm denial after orgasm denial is what he’d do with you all while kicking people. You would’ve never known though, seeing as he’d be doing this all at his own place. 

At one point he’d even made a second account just to send you money to send out a request. 

You’d follow those requests so well that sometimes he’d cum a little sooner than expected, and it made him cum hard.

He couldn’t take it anymore personally, but there wasn’t exactly anything he could do, after all he was just your best friend, there was no way in hell that you’d ever consider doing something with him on a live.

It was a personal struggle for him too, knowing that he wasn’t the one getting you off and instead it would be the toys he’d bought you a few days prior, he’d even resort to buying a fleshlight, imagining it was you on nights that you didn’t go live. 

At one point, he even started his own account, the main account he’d use to monitor your lives soon became what he would use to release his own stuff. He’d stay faceless for a while, doing audios, talking about wanting to do a collab with someone soon. He’d have plenty of views to be popular, and even told you right when he started.

At one point you even watched his lives and his videos, and it turned you on even more knowing that those moans he’d produce would be so delicious to hear in person.

You’d never ask him though, that made you feel embarrassed if he knew that you were watching his stuff. 

Some nights, you’d find yourself touching yourself to the sound of his voice, melting with every word he’d say.

-one week before-

You were doing a live show. Seungmin was monitoring on his second account, cock in hand as he watched you fuck yourself with a purple dildo, one that he had bought for you three weeks ago. 

It turned him on so much knowing that you were using toys that he had bought for you. He hand wrapped around his length as he pumped it in pace with your hip movements, and soon when his fist wouldn’t be enough, he’d break out the fleshlight, matching the pace. He watched as your hips grinded down on the dildo, a loud moan escaping when you’d reached your g-spot, and it made him groan and throw his head back, just before quickly snapping it back as he watched you make eye contact with the camera.

“I bet you’d love for this to be you, huh? Me riding your cock, makin’ you feel– hnghh– so good underneath me.. f-fuck..”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed you. He needed you so bad that he couldn’t help but finally make an undeniable request. He sent so much money you were sure that his second account was rich, considering you didn’t know it was him.

“Meongmeong00! Oh my god! Thank you so much for the 2,000 tokens! Oooo and it says right here you’ve made a request!” You didn’t get off the dildo, and instead you quickly opened the message, making sure you were still on screen the entire time.

You decided to not read the message out loud, not wanting to spoil it.

Meongmeong00: Your shows are always so good, but I’m looking for more. You should do a collab, have someone fuck you for a change. You should check out PuppyM, he’s a camboy but he only does audios.

“Mmmm I can’t promise you anything meongmeong, but I can most certainly try to get in contact.” While it was a bit worrying knowing that someone had suggested you do a collab with your best friend, you decided to ignore it and finish the live. 

You had some talking with Seungmin to do, and soon.

-the evening before-

“Min,, I have something to ask, and if you’re totally weirded out you can just say no.” You started off, the both of you sat on the couch, eating whatever snacks to your heart's content as you watched your show together.

Seungmin looked at you, raising an eyebrow as he hummed in response.

“So one of my biggest supporters, meongmeong00, made a request..”

He knew exactly where this was going, and on the inside he wanted to just admit his dirty tricks, but he didn’t want to spoil it, especially with the fact you looked so cute when you were nervous, “Go on..”

“They requested that PuppyM, or more so, you, should do a collab with me..” You pulled at the hem of your (his stolen) shirt, you getting all flushed from the idea of actually having sex with him.

“Did they? Wow.. who knew two worlds would collide.” He hummed out, his voice a bit raspy from being quiet almost the entire show. 

“Min I’m serious.” 

“Oh I know.”

“So what’s your answer..?”

“Sure why not. It’d rack in views for me and you, and I’d finally do a face reveal.”

You actually couldn’t believe your ears. He said yes?

“Really? Minnie you’re the best!” You squealed, hugging him, and in order to do that you had to straddle him. Within that action he grunted but hugged back nonetheless.

You hugged him for a while, thanking him over and over again. He’d only hum in response, head peeking from your shoulder as he watched the show behind you. He was thankful that you didn’t feel the semi he had.

-the day of-

You had planned everything, you had clarified boundaries, safeword, and even decided to use the light system. You just about agreed to anything that he suggested. 

Kissing, Marking, Overstimulation, Bondage, sensory play, praise, degrading, you name it. 

In true honesty you were more than excited. The entire time you had been out that day, you had a burning sensation in your abdomen. The desire was strong, and it made you so eager to go forward in time and make the clock strike 7 o’clock. 

You had gone all out for this. You had bought new lingerie, in his favorite color purple, just to tease him even more than you needed to. You did some light makeup, knowing it would just be ruined in the end anyway.

You made sure everything was perfect, that the camera was angled perfectly, and that the room was set to your liking. 

Seungmin went all out too, he decided to dress nice, which wasn’t exactly necessary but he still did it anyway. He wore a black button up, dress pants matching. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his fingers were even decorated with a few rings. He knew that he’d end up taking pictures of you, so what better way to do that then use his hands and have rings make his hands look pretty. He had his hair pushed back as well, something you absolutely loved on him. 

Neither of you were thinking of roleplay, but the way he dressed up definitely made it seem like it. He even brought a collar and leash, something new you’d never used before. 

When he showed up, your breath had stopped seeing him all dressed up.

“Well look at you, all dressed up for me?” You teased, watching him kick his shoes off at the door before walking towards you.

“I could say the same for you,, what’s underneath that nightgown of yours?” He hummed out, a finger lifting the silk fabric of the nightgown, that same finger grazing your skin, causing shivers to run up your spine.

“Hm, you’ll see..” You hummed out, walking to the room he’d never been in before.

He wasn’t expecting it to be so nicely done. The best part was the amount of options you had for him. The ties, blindfold, the toys he bought for you, even two different types of whips and a paddle. You were decked out for him.

“You said you’d want options so I broke out every toy you’ve bought along with a couple of other things you might find interesting. Did you bring anything?” You asked, pointing towards his bag.

“Oh right.. I uhm, I’m not sure you’re into it but I was thinking maybe a bit of control?” He then pulled out a collar and leash, and you clenched around nothing.

“Yeah that’s fine, like breath play?”

“I was thinking–” He paused, setting down the collar and leash and walking towards you, leaning to your ear, “Maybe some pet play?” 

Oh fuck.

“Y-Yeah we can uhm.. We can do that.” You huffed out, swallowing thickly as you watched him move back, hum, and then get ready for you to start your live.

You were sitting on the bed, watching all of your viewers come in, some you didn’t recognize in which they all, no surprise, asked where PuppyM was.

“Welcome! I’m glad all of you could make it today!” You greeted, gently waving to the screen as you shifted so your legs were crossed. You watched donations slowly pour in, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

Seungmin watching this in real life made him nervous.

“As you remember, a few weeks ago, meongmeong00 made a request, and I didn’t tell you what they requested, but as you can tell from the title.. I’ve decided on a collab!” You hummed out, leaning forward just a bit, your cleavage making itself known in the process. You could hear Seungmin shift a bit, waiting for you to signal him to come in. He had grabbed the collar and leash beforehand too.

“So, without further ado, please welcome the one and only PuppyM!” You had let a hand reach out towards Seungmin, in which he came out from hiding, humming lightly as he stayed standing, watching you move your head upwards as he walked closer. The camera was angled perfectly to wear his head cut off, but that would be pointless very very soon. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your show tonight, Y/N.” He responded, in which you hummed in response as you felt him move your hair to put the collar on you. A smile was on your face as he looked down at you.

“Of course, the more the merrier am I right?” You added, to which he nodded before sitting down and looking at the camera.

“And now they get to see my face, too.” He watched the chat go crazy with the sudden face reveal, a smirk on his face.

“I think they seem to enjoy your face, Min.” You resorted to a simple nickname that would be easy to use.

“You think so? I agree.” He replied, watching you turn your head to him. How it was so tempting to just kiss you right now.

“Well, might as well put on a show..” You hummed out, standing up and teasingly lifting your nightgown off. Oh how his heart stopped.

Purple was such a beautiful color, especially with you wearing it. He could feel his mouth water as he sat and watched you drop your nightgown on the floor. 

“Wow.. Purples a pretty color on you, darling..” He hummed out, watching you walk to the side of the bed. He moved so he could meet you by the edge of the same side. 

Your hands rested on his thighs for a moment, leaning close to him, prepared to kiss him but he stopped you.

“Uh-uh.. Sit first.” He commanded, and you could feel your knees go weak at those words. 

You quickly straddled his lap, his hands going to your hips as you looked at him from above, “Good girl.” He hummed out, and you could feel yourself get wetter.

You went back to leaning in to kiss him, his eyes fluttering shut slowly but surely. Your lips soon connected with his, your hands reaching to tangle into his hair. It was just light foreplay and you already had a small wet patch on the lace panties.

The way his lips moved on yours, the heat from his body and yours connecting and creating a great sexual tension. You could hear his shaky breaths clear as day as you kissed, sucked, and nibbled on his bottom lip. 

One hand retreated from his hair, slowly guiding down to his pants where they were greeted with a bulge in his pants. Almost instinctively you started palming, but a single word prevented you from continuing.

“Stop. Did I give you permission?” He huffed out, pulling away from the kissing as he stared at you with dark eyes. You melted under his gaze almost immediately.

“Did I need permission?” You asked, a smirk on your face, and one soon grew on him.

“Snarky, aren’t we?” He muttered out, slapping your ass, and hard. You were sure there would be a mark left as you yelped and moaned, head thrown back.

“M-Min–” You whimpered, hand retreating from his bulge.

“Hm? What’s the matter? Can’t handle it?” He teased, gently rubbing the spot he hit on your ass.

“No– I can handle it–”

“Color?”

“Green.”

He carried on with his next action, one hand retreating from your hips to greet your aching clit. A finger rubbing in a circular motion almost immediately, causing you to gasp and let out a soft moan. You almost instinctively grinded down on his hand, but knowing that the result of moving your hand to his bulge, you stopped yourself.

“Such pretty moans.. Matches a pretty face doesn’t it? Don’t you guys agree? She has such pretty moans.” He teased, his eyes never leaving you. The chat was going wild with donations and comments. 

You kept moaning when he would change the pace of his finger before stopping, it would cause you to whine but when he picked up again it was cut off and you’d go back to moaning. 

This went on for a few minutes, the continuous torture of him teasing your clit and making you want more. 

By the time he stopped, your core was aching for everything and more.

“Please Min– I need it–”

“Why don’t we be patient, darling. You’ll get what you want soon, let me have some fun and prep you yeah? You need to be able to fit all of me in you if you want the night of your life..” He teased, both hands retreating as he unhooked your lace and very mesh bra. 

Being face to face with your tits was so much better than the screen, “So beautiful.. You’re perfect..” He muttered, a hand going to one of your tits, lightly squeezing it. 

You don’t know what turned you on, the praise of all of the touching he was doing. 

“Touch me more please..” You said loud enough for everyone watching to hear, but not loud enough for the neighbors to hear you.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” And before you could even respond, his lips wrapped around your nipple, causing you to gasp and let out a shuddered moan, hands going back to his hair. 

He’d continue to play with your nipples. Sucking, swirling, nibbling, and tugging on them. He was sure that they’d be swollen and with the way you were reacting, he could get off on just that. He turned to the other one, giving the same treatment. 

He knew you wanted more, but he loved the way you were reacting even from simple foreplay. 

“I haven’t even gotten to the good bit and you’re squirming and begging for more..” He hummed out, pulling away from your nipple before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

Soon enough though, your clothed pussy met his clothed cock, and you began grinding down on him. With that action, it caused a strained moan to release from his lips as he pulled away.

“Fuck..” He muttered out, head leaning back as he relished in the feeling.

“Feel good enough for you?” You teased, thumb tugging at his bottom lip. You knew he was enjoying just from the way his body would react. 

“Feels so good, darling.” He groaned out, looking back at you. Your cheeks were flushed, lips plump from all the kissing.

His head dipped into your neck, pressing kisses as he pushed your hips down harder on his, moans releasing from the both of you. If he could just hold out a little longer. 

He began to mark your clear skin, leaving plenty of love bites and hickeys on your collarbone and neck, “Mine, your mine.. No one else's jus’ mine.” He muttered against your skin, fingers digging into your hips and his grip was so tight you were sure there would be marks by tomorrow.

“ ‘M all yours Min– Just yours baby..” The both of you stopped because you knew it was time for a change and Seungmin was super needy at this point.

You quickly got off of his lap, hands going to his belt and taking it off for him, now getting on your knees, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. His hands quickly worked on his shirt, tossing it to the side once it was off, and you pulling his pants down. 

You swallowed at the hard on you could see much more clearer. Fuck he was big.. He was girthy and he was lengthy, “Holy shit Min..” You muttered, licking your lips. You knew that it would be bigger the moment it was out. 

You stood up to move the camera closer to the two of you, so the viewers could get a better sight of you, him, and his clothed cock.

“Do you guys see this? He’s huge!” You let out a scoff afterwards, a smug smirk on his face. 

“Why don’t you get a taste then?” Seungmin replied, hand going down to caress your cheek. You hummed as your fingers went underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, now tugging them down and watching as his cock slapped against his abdomen. 

Your mouth watered, and you could feel some of it slipping from your lips.

“Careful, don’t drool all over me.” He joked, and you laughed as well, swallowing the spit and then letting some more form in your mouth. 

A long stripe is what you licked on the underside of his length, tongue flicking at his red tip. A sigh immersed from his lips as he watched you. He was more than certain you had practiced prior to this, and even looked at some tips because he definitely knew you never sucked off any of the dildos you had. 

He watched as you took him in your hands, getting him prepped to take him into your mouth. 

You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue as you tasted the salty pre-cum on your tastebuds. You let spit trickle down from your mouth and down his length before you began to take him into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat before you started forcing yourself down even more. 

He let out a broken moan feeling the warmth of your mouth. He could feel himself twitch as your moved your hand, jerking what you couldn’t reach as you lifted, eyes watering as a string of saliva connected your tongue with his dick. 

“Fuck this is a sight..” He muttered, hand going to your hair and you knew exactly what he was about to do.

“You can take more, right?” He hummed out, and you nodded in response.

“Color?”

“So fucking green Min.” You whined out, just before feeling him guide your head back to his length, making you take what you could at first, just before he began to buck his hips upwards, forcing you to take more. While it made you gag at first, you soon got used to the feeling of him entering and leaving your throat.

A hand went down to touch yourself, rubbing your clit in a circular motion as you let him fuck your throat.

Desperate moans and groans passed his lips, “Fuck– Baby your throat feels so good– jus a good girl for me– shit-” 

You hummed around him, causing a loud moan to escape from him. You knew that he wouldn’t last like this, and he knew too, but he kept going.

“Taking it like such a good girl, yeah? Taking me down your throat, I bet you enjoy it…” He certainly was a dirty talker.

He quickly pulled you off of his length after he felt himself get close. He looked at your fucked out face, the way mascara started streaming down your cheeks the moment he began to fuck into your throat, and the way that your face looked so red, all the saliva dripping from your chin and onto your soft and marked up tits. 

“Fuck you’re such a dream..” He muttered, reaching for his phone and taking a picture of you, which you allowed. It would just be more material for later.

“MIn please–” 

“I know. Color?”

“Fuck Min don’t ask anymore. It’s green, and it’ll stay green.” You huffed out, wiping your chin as you crawled onto the bed. 

He quickly grabbed the camera to angle it so they could see him getting ready to go down on you. 

“We won’t need those useless toys.” He hummed out, practically ripping off the panties. It didn’t matter anyway, they wouldn’t be needed after tonight.

He began kissing down your body, spreading your legs open as he stared at all of your glory.

Your glistening pussy and the way that it was just ready for him made him so excited. 

He covered his fingers in his spit, rubbing them between your folds as he watched you squirm and moan from the feeling, “Please Min, put them in me– Make me squirt for you.” You whined.

That was new. 

He then inserted his middle finger into your hole, feeling your walls clench around the singular digit as you moaned from the stretch. He was reaching deep and he could tell just from the way you reacted. 

He fucked it into you, knowing it wouldn’t be enough but he wanted you to beg. 

“Min–”

“Beg for it. I want you to beg for me.” He teased, and it caused you to whine.

“Fuck Min– Please– I need it so bad, I want you so bad–” 

“Not good enough..”

You huffed, grinding against his palm, “Fuck your fingers into me please– Please Min– Your finger feels so good but I want more- anghh– Can I have more please?” You locked eyes with him as you said those words, and that made him give in.

As his ring finger entered you, he hummed out a “good girl” as you moaned from the stretch. Your eyes rolled as he began to curl his fingers.

Your hands went to cover your face, moaning into them as he thrusted his fingers in and out, curling them on occasion as his other hand came over to torture your clit, matching the pace of his fingers.

You were so close you could feel it, and it was unbelievable how close you were. Your best friends fingers were magic, and the way he continuously thrusted and curled his fingers, you were sure to ask him to fuck you again in the future.

“M-Min! Fuck– uugh– ‘M close Min! Min please– AH!” And that was it, your orgasm had hit so hard that your legs started shaking, but he didn’t stop there.

You felt like you were seeing stars, moaning out his name desperately as your whole body trembled, gripping the sheets like tomorrow as your eyes rolled back. 

When you came back down, you immediately got shot back up when you realized he hadn’t stopped.

“MIN! Shit– S-Sto– MMM! Ohmygod–” His fingers had been removed but he was rubbing your clit like there was no tomorrow.

“C’mon, give it to me, you can give me another baby..” He hummed out, watching you squirm underneath him as you tried stopping him, but he refused.

“Color?”

“SO FUCKING GREEN– OHMYGODMIN!” Your back arches, eyes begin to water as your hips lifted off the bed, squirting all over your thighs and on his abdomen. He grunted from the sight, licking his lips as he watched your body convulse and tremble.

He slapped your pussy once and it caused you to jolt.

“Good girl..” He hummed out, letting you take a minute to come back down your high.

You could still feel it even after the heavy orgasm, clenching around nothing as you looked up at him.

“Think you’re ready?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

That was the moment he lined himself up with you, his tip prodding at your entrance before he slowly began to push in, holding your hips. He was gentle with you during this time.

You whimpered, gripping onto his forearms. The stretch wasn’t unbearable but it was still a stretch. You clenched around him and it caused him to grunt. 

“Relax, you’re okay baby..” He muttered, pressing soft kisses to your lips.

Once he was all the way in, you could see the smallest bump in your abdomen, your hand going to it and pressing down, causing you to moan and retreat your hand, “Fuck..”

“Look at that.. I fit..” He joked, a small laugh emitting from him as he let you adjust. 

“So full.. You’re so big.. Fuck–” You squirmed, grinding your hips against him. That was his signal.

Seungmin began to thrust into you, watching the small bump disappear and then reappear with every thrust. 

You weren’t sure when you started feeling it heavily, but when you did, you couldn’t stop moaning. Every thrust released a moan from you and he found it the hottest thing imaginable. 

“F-Faster Min– FUCK– Fuck me faster please– hard–harder–” You moaned out, gripping his forearms tightly, nails digging crescent moons. 

He grunted in response, doing exactly as you said. He wasn’t sure what felt better, the way your velvet walls felt so good around him or the way you’d clench so hard that he would’ve sworn he would cum. 

“Such a good girl– my good girl– taking me so well,, so deep.” He moaned out, gripping your hips tighter as he slammed into you over and over again. 

You weren’t sure how long this would go on, but you knew it was racking in views and donations. 

You also weren’t sure if this would change anything between you and Seungmin.

That didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was the pleasure the two of you were feeling.

“Ohmygodmin– fuck I-I– ‘M SOCLOSE–” You struggled to make out words, practically babbling at this point as your trembled. 

He could feel you pushing him out, and he knew exactly what it was.

He pulled out and watched as you whined and squirted. Fuck it was so hot watching you.

He pushed right back in as soon as you finished, thrusting just as fast as before. 

Your whines and moans didn’t even stop, they just kept going as he fucked into you.

Your body convulsed again, walls clenching around him. Just a little longer,, just a little longer and you knew he would cum.

“Fu–Holy shit– Y/N–” He couldn’t even get words out at this point, it all felt too good for him. He knew how close he was, yet he kept pushing and pushing. He wanted you to squirt once more before he came.

That’s when his hand came to your clit and began rubbing just as he did before.

You cried out, tears welling in your eyes before spilling. You knew you could take it, but your words kept spilling.

“I can’t– FUCKING– ohmy– ohmygodmin– SHIT I’M–” ANd he felt you push, so he pulled out and watched you squirt once more. It didn’t take him long to push back in, his thrusts now sloppy and stuttered as he huffed and moaned heavily.

“Take it– Hold it in you– Fuck–” He said into your ear, and within one, two, three thrusts, his hips stilled and he painted your walls white.

Both of you were panting heavily, looking back at each other as he both relished in post-orgasm. 

“Fuck Min,, that was so good..” You muttered out, pressing a kiss to his lips. You looked at the camera, smiling at it gently as you felt him pull out.

“Glad you enjoyed it, Y/N.” He hummed out, laying next to you and looking at the camera.

“Thank you so much for the idea meongmeong00, I’ve definitely had the time of my life.. And thank you to all those who came to enjoy it! I hope that this was good enough for you and that you’d want something like this in the future, see you guys next week!” You said before turning off the camera, Seungmin going to end the live.

“Holy shit Min..” You laughed out, sitting up as you clenched around nothing, some of his cum dripping from your cunt.

“You have fun?”

“Hell yeah.. That’s the best fuck I’ve ever had in my life!” You stood up with shaky legs, going to him and pressing a kiss on his lips.

“Yeah? How about another round?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

When Home Becomes You

| I have no idea how to use this app. Please bear with me as I learn.

/ Day one of this. I forewarn I have a busy work schedule post will be vastly irregular.

/ These boys have saved my life this year. Other writers have aided in that love for them (fictional and non)

/ Genre: fluff, (for now)

/ Warnings: swearing. Changbin kinda swears a lot here. Minor injury. Anxiety. Chapter one in LONG (sorry..)

/ Summary??: Mistakes happen, all the time in fact. He knew that, his team knew that. The dancers, staff, managers, security, to heck you get it they all knew mistakes happen. So Changbin didn’t understand why this mistake, this small error had begun to eat him up since the moment it happened

/ reminder: this is a work of fiction. I love these boys but nothing I or other writers depict is true about them. Also please don’t steal my work took a lot of courage to put this out here 👀👀

Mistakes happen, all the time in fact. He knew that, his team knew that. The dancers, staff, managers, security, to heck you get it they all knew mistakes happen. So Changbin didn’t understand why this mistake, this small error had begun to eat him up since the moment it happened. The concert was great, the usual adrenaline acted as added fuel to their jet lagged bodies. Something about America, or International STAYS was different. To him it was the air, crisp, maybe a touch dryer than home. Yet so refreshing. Rehearsal had gone fantastically, best they’d had. Everyone was on fire. Hyunjin was giving his all even just for practice. So when the concert began and the roar of the crowd could be heard as the intro began he was ready. His body bristled with anticipation, the desire to do his best flowed into his core.

Changbin allowed himself one more moment to hear his beloved STAYs before he settled his in-ears into place. His focus dived, almost tunnel like as he stepped foot onto that stage. He felt alive, every nerve ending lighting with the familiar choreography. He didn’t, couldn’t think he just existed. A space where everything in him felt on yet off. So beyond anything he could ever explain. The thrill of doing something he loved so purely. Then it happened. This one small moment. As one song drifted into the next they were on fire, he’d have to admit out of this tour he loved this performance best. STAYs made him feel so raw and so alive. His opening for My Pace began, he knelt down at the forefront of the stage. Carefully he leaned close to see the crowd at the rail. He did this every concert. With a smile beaming ear to ear he wished he could hear the crowd could hear his STAY. Then in a flash that joy was gone, one single misstep. A dancer fell out of their line, and that’s all it took. The next thing Changbin knew was a blur of movements. In order to catch himself he aimed for a set speaker to his right, missing entirely as he tumbled down off the stage. The momentum of his body sent him right for the railing the crowd stood at. Screwed wasn’t really the word he was looking for at that moment. But it’s entirely what he felt. Screwed.

Hands grabbed at him in all directions as he felt the cold metal rails meet his torso. Gods he loved STAY, but they were unnerving sometimes. The seams of his stage costume began to make a horrid sound. The clambering of hands that grabbed at Changbin began to become overwhelming. Soon he was being dragged over the rail into the crowd. Panic began to creep into him. How in the hell was he going to get out of this?? Suddenly he was yanked back, his body pulled from the hands of the crowd. When he looked up he sighed with relief, a familiar body guard had yanked him free of the people by his collar. When he turned back to look at the crowd there was this woman. Small in stature. Her entire being a guard between him and the wound up crowd of STAY. Then she turned hair whipping in its low ponytail as she gestured to him to get back. He took two steps but his eyes never left hers. “Changbin!!” The call of his name drew his attention away from her. Back to the stage. Chan was there hand over the edge. He took it getting back up performing like it had never happened at all.

Just like that he was back under the hot lights of the stage rapping his heart out to his beloved fans. The same fans that so quickly tried to eat him alive. An exaggeration sure, but he couldn't describe how else the feeling was. People pulled him left right, his body entirely out of his own control. If it weren’t for the body guards he was sure he would have been swallowed up by STAY. Daring a glance back he saw her again. It was remarkable, maybe she wasn’t that small. But there wasn’t much mass to her. Not like himself or the 6ft tall body guard that had yanked him free of the crowd. Shit he’d been staring too long, way too long. She noticed her head whipped around, her dark eyes met his. Changbin felt his breath catch in his chest as she stared back at him, her head cocked to one side. The way her hair swayed reminded him slightly of a puppy discovering something new. Then she spoke, her lips drawn tight before she mouthed something. He must have made a face, because she repeated herself and he understood.

“Are you okay??” she had asked, or really mouthed. A strange bubbling filled the pit of his stomach as he gave her a sheepish smile and nodded. It was pure adrenaline that had kept him going on that stage. As they exited he was still high off it, his feet bouncing left to right he wanted, no needed more. The energy was felt between them all, each of the 8 men buzzed with the after show high. They all sobered up a little as a dancer filed into the dressing room head bowed deeply as he apologized to Changbin for his mistake.

“No sweat, just watch yourself next time. Keep your line. I’ll be more careful too,” as the dancer slipped back out Changbin shook his head pulling the hem of his stage shirt loose from his pants. Half of them were already undressed when a soft knock came at the door. It wasn’t familiar to him. Their managers usually “knocked” as they entered, waving at them to hustle up. Dancers were usually louder, for they knew the boys always had a high volume rate. So this knock was new, gentle, and almost unheard among the banter of the room. Strangely he heard it loud and clear. Shirt in hand he walked over swinging the door open to find her..Under the dark stage lights he couldn’t really see her. Too bright over his face, and the house lights always dimmed for their stage. But here, in the warm fluorescents he could see you. To his surprise he had to look down. It was ever so slight but his chin tipped further to the floor to look at you, take you in.

One of your hands was still raised to what he presumed was to knock at the door once more. It lowered at the sight of him coming to fold at your chest. Shit, were they too loud?? Had you come to ask them to shut up..Yeah that wasn’t happening. Your stance was wide, feet shoulder length apart keeping your balance even. A stance he knew well from all his weight training over the years. Your eyes met his looking up through the hair that sat over your face. That look, a look many had given him before, a look many will give him again. But when you did, when you looked at him like that, the deep chocolate color stole his breath. A shiver wracked his spine. He swore in that moment no one had ever looked at him like that, never before, and never again will they. Not like you had irises cast slightly up in your rounded eyes, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit. “Uhh,” he gathered undignified..Shit he probably needed Chan. No chance in hell did you speak Korean, and there was no way he was going to fumble his way through English to try and speak to you. That was a given. So he had to will himself to look away from you, away from your pretty face to get his leader just to speak to you. Gods he wanted to speak to you. Just as he built up the courage to turn his face away and call for Chan you spoke.

“How’re your ribs??” you asked..in Korean. Well shit. Looks like he can speak to you..that was a surprise. A quite pleasant one in fact.

TAG LIST:

@taeminsung @maximumkillshot @feybin @alex--awesome--22 @liknws @palindrome969 @newbbystay @highlydestiny

---

Ahhh it's so good!!!

Your Gentle Hands (They Feel Like Home To Me). || Kim Hongjoong. [ Part I ]

Summary: meeting the local outcast shouldn't have ended with you slowly falling for him. yet you did, all while knowing you could never have this man, because you were already someones else's wife. two lovers, a dress shop, and a violent man between it all. we all know how this ends, right? ... right?

Pairing: dressmaker!kim hongjoong x fem. reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Wordcount: 15k

Warnings: playing in the 1800s so general warning for that, reader is married to a very violent man, emotional (justified) infidelity??, misogyny, (domestic) violence, injuries, talks about religion and people suffering because of it, blood, murder, i think that's it??

A/N: can't believe it's finally here. oh my gawd. i love this piece so much, but god did i struggle with it i'm so glad i can finally post part 1. i would really really appreciate reblogs, comments, and likes too, but reblogs are so helpful, so please do it if you liked it it would help me immensely. also comment if anyone would like to be tagged for part 2 of this two-shot! and now onto the most important part: the biggest thanks and hugs and kisses to @yessa-vie and @ghstzzn because without them, this fic would've long been in the damn trash can holy moly. also, thank you so so much to @seulrinnie-rinrin for beating this last minute, i'm so thankful really!! and as always divider credits to @firefly-graphics!

Taglist: @ghstzzn, @kyukyustar, @hwapetals, @foxinnie8, @preciouswoozi, @aussiekpopginger, @kitten4sannie

Available here on AO3.

My Dearest Husband,

The years have been harsh to us, and the cracks in our marriage grow wider with each passing day. Your hands, once embracing me so gentle and loving, now leave bruises upon my skin that no amount of powder or paint can conceal.

I dare not speak of the pain that lingers within me, for fear of invoking your wrath once more. Yet, the time has come for me to break the chains that bind me to this wretched existence and find solace in the arms of another.

Know this, my dear husband, I shall not suffer in silence any longer. Your tyranny shall not be tolerated, and I shall not rest until I am free from the shackles of your oppression.

With every ounce of strength left within me,

[Your Name]

The clock turned midnight.

You sat by the window, the gentle patter of rain against the glass a soothing backdrop to the turmoil raging within your heart. The room felt suffocating, the walls seemingly closing in on you with each passing moment. How long has it been since you last felt a glimmer of hope in this house?

How long has it been since you last felt safe in it?

You closed your eyes. Nothing but silence greeted you.

Good. 

The creak of the floorboards beneath your feet sounded deafening in the silence of the night, and you held your breath, afraid that even the slightest noise would awaken him.

Him.

Your husband, or rather: your own personal tormentor. 

“He's a good man,” your mother in law screamed, her fingernails marking your skin, her eyes desperate and angry. “Be a good wife and learn to obey and endure. My son said it was a mistake, and so be it!”

The black eye he gave you days later told a different story. Yet it didn't matter.

Once outside, you found yourself drawn to the familiar path that led to the edge of the forest. 

Finally stepping outside the small, scruffy looking house, you were greeted by darkness and the occasional chirping of various insects. Luckily, the temperatures were still mild in late September, yet you still pulled the cardigan tighter around you. Despite the darkness and uncertainty that surrounded you, there was a sense of freedom in being away from the suffocating confines of your home.

Just for a little, a few hours, both your mind and body could finally relax.

As you made your way along the familiar path towards the edge of the forest, a sense of anticipation bubbled within you. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to entertain the possibility of a bit of time free from fear and pain. It would only last a short while, making you lose valuable hours of sleep, but still for you, it was enough.

The path before you seemed to stretch on endlessly, disappearing into the darkness of the woods. Tall, gnarled trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers towards the heavens. The soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze filled the air, accompanied by the occasional hoot of an owl or the distant cry of a night bird.

The chirping at the insects had stopped entirely.

Despite the late hour, the forest was buzzing with activity. Small creatures - stray cats and dogs known to frequent the area - scurried among the underbrush, their eyes glowing in the darkness as they went about their nocturnal rituals. Every now and then, the faint glimmer of fireflies could be seen darting through the trees, their soft, golden light illuminating the path ahead.

You followed their lead, heart pounding in your chest as you ventured deeper into the forest. For a split second, your mind wandered back to your husband. You knew he was asleep, passed out blank from the amount of alcohol he consumed at The Saloon, the only pub in your village.

Despite knowing he was asleep, the fear lingered like a dark cloud looming over your every thought. The bruises on your skin served as a constant reminder of his violence, and even in his absence, his presence felt suffocating.

“Meow.”

The sound broke the silence of the night, startling you momentarily, making you almost trip over your own feet. Your heart raced as you glanced around, half expecting to see your husband's shadow looming in the darkness. But there was no sign of him, only the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of insects.

He's not here, you reminded yourself, taking a deep, slow breath, it's just a cat. It's okay. You're okay. 

As you stood there, trying to calm your racing heart, the source of the meow emerged from the bushes - a small, scruffy-looking cat with fur as dark as the night itself. 

It's a beautiful cat, you thought.

You crouched down, extending a tentative hand towards the cat. “Hey there, little one,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you out here all alone?”

The cat looked you up and down for a moment, then cautiously approached, its movements slow and careful at first. It sniffed your outstretched hand, then rubbed its head against your fingers, purring softly.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently scratched behind the cat's ears.

“Looks like we're both seeking some peace in the night,” you said, your words more for yourself than for the cat. But in that moment, it felt like the cat understood, as if it were offering you silent companionship in this dark, lonely forest.

With a sigh, you leaned back against a nearby tree, the cat following and curling up beside you. 

“I should give you a name, right?” you hummed. The cat didn't respond, just continued purring as your fingers went through its unkempt yet soft fur.

“I have the gut feeling that you're a boy, so… let's name you Benji, shall we?”

You giggled as Benji took your hand in his paws, gently biting and licking while his purring filled your ears. 

“You like it? What a good, sweet boy.”

Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes nearby startled you, tearing your gaze away from Benji. The cat hissed, and only then you saw what was making the noise: a… goat? 

A goat that was now sprinting right at you at full speed. Panicked, you hurried to your feet, backing away slowly only to be met by the tree you previously set by. You turned around to run, but as you did, the goat lunged forward, catching your dress with its horns and tearing the fabric apart. A loud scream - your loud scream - echoed through the night, and you fell to the ground, your knees and hands immediately starting to bleed as they hit the forest floor. 

“Help!” you screamed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart and the goat's relentless assault. In a desperate attempt to escape, you scrambled away, your hands and knees scraping against the rough ground once again, blood mingling with dirt as you crawled towards another tree, away from the animal. “Somebody, please help me!”

Your desperate cries pierced through the darkness. Every fibre of your being screamed for someone to hear your plea and rescue you from this nightmare.

And then, as if conjured by your sheer desperation, a male voice cut through the night. 

“Let her be, you damn goat!” 

Oh finally.

You turned towards the source of the voice, your heart pounding in your chest as you beheld the figure emerging from the shadows. In the darkness, you couldn't see his features clearly, but the silhouette of a lean figure emerged from the shadows. His stature was not imposing, but there was a quiet strength in the way he carried himself. Short, tousled hair framed his face, and his clean-shaven jawline hinted at a youthful charm. Despite his lean frame, there was a sense of agility and grace in his movements as he approached, his steps purposeful yet cautious. His clothes, though worn and faded, spoke of practicality rather than luxury, and the faint glint of silver caught your eye as moonlight danced upon a necklace around his neck.

“Get back, Django,” he commanded, his voice stern and serious. 

For a moment, it seemed as though the goat - Django - hesitated, its wild eyes darting between you and the stranger as if weighing its options. But then, with a defiant snort, the goat actually backed away, its hooves scraping against the forest floor as it retreated back to its owner's side.

You watched in stunned silence as the young man approached, his expression softened by a glimmer of concern. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

You nodded weakly, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief as you struggled to sit up. He offered you a hand, and you accepted it gratefully, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze.

Your eyes widened. 

You knew this man. 

It was hard not to, because the women at the market loved to gossip about him.

“He's a filthy man. Have you seen the dresses he makes? Outrageous.”

His name was Kim Hongjoong, you believed, a man known for his unconventional ways and said ‘outrageous’ dresses he crafted.

The women's cruel words towards him echoed in your mind, their voices dripping with disgust whenever his name was mentioned. They spoke of him as if he were beneath them, a plague, to be avoided at all costs. But as you looked at him now, you saw none of the malice they spoke of, only kindness and a smile etched into his features.

Hongjoong's eyes softened at your words. He had a pretty face, you realised, staring up at him in awe and curiosity.

You are a married woman! Oh Lord, may you save me from those malicious, evil thoughts!

“You shouldn't be out here alone,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. 

“I'm always here alone,” you responded. “It's my safe space.”

Instead of pressing you further, his eyes scanned your form, his expression growing more serious as he took in the extent of both your wounds and torn dress.

“It's even worse than I thought…” He looked at Django, who's now freely roaming around, seemingly no longer agitated and angry. “This goddamn goat,” he groaned.

“Is he always like this?” you asked.

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair as he glanced back at Django with a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, “He's a stubborn creature, to say the least. His former owner wanted to slaughter him because he was aggressive towards humans and goats alike, but I convinced him to let me take care of him instead.”

“That's very noble of you,” you remarked, a sense of admiration evident in your voice. “Not many would take in a troubled animal like Django and give him a chance to change.”

Hongjoong offered you a small, appreciative smile, his eyes reflecting a hint of pride. “It hasn't been easy,” he admitted, patting Django's head, “But despite a few angry outbursts here and there, he's actually been adjusting well.”

You hummed, still keeping your distance from the goat that just attacked you. You and him probably won't become friends any time soon.

“Do you think you are able to walk?”

You nodded, though the pain throbbing in your knees and hands contradict your words. “I'll be fine,” you assured him, though your voice faltered slightly as you spoke.

Hongjoong's gaze softened with concern as he observed your state, his brows furrowing slightly with worry. “Are you sure?” he asked, his tone gentle yet insistent. “You're hurt, and it's not safe for you to be out here alone, especially with those injuries.”

You hesitated. Despite your initial plan to find solace and peace in the forest, you couldn't deny the reality of your situation - bruised, bleeding, and very much in need of assistance.

Swallowing your pride, you met Hongjoong's gaze with a grateful nod. “I... I think I could use some help,” you admitted, your voice wavering slightly with a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

Without hesitation, Hongjoong stepped closer, offering you his arm for support. “Here," he said, “Lean on me. We'll get you patched up and back home safely.”

“N-no!” you screeched, making Hongjoong falter in his steps and shoot you a confused look, “I-i mean, the night's still young, am I right? There's no need to return home just yet…”

“Why are you avoiding your own home?”

Your heart raced at his question, and you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears. His straightforwardness caught you off-guard, yet you tried - and failed - to hide your uneasiness and upcoming fear.

“You wouldn't understand,” you whispered.

Avoiding his eyes, you bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. The fear of revealing too much, of exposing the dark secrets of your marriage, held you back. You couldn't bear the thought of anyone knowing the truth, let alone a stranger who could very much use this information against you.

Hongjoong must have sensed your hesitation, for he didn't press further. Instead, he offered a gentle smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “It's alright,” he said softly. “You don't have to explain. Let's just get you somewhere safe and comfortable for now.”

His words and tone surprised you. You were accustomed to being met with demands and anger, not patience and empathy. The contrast left you feeling both confused and intrigued. Why was he being so kind to you? What did he hope to gain from helping a stranger in the middle of the night?

You accepted his support, leaning on him as you walked, your steps slow and cautious. The pain in your knees and hands was a constant reminder of your current vulnerability, but Hongjoong's steady presence provided a strange sense of comfort. Despite your initial wariness, you found yourself beginning to trust him.

Oh, what a foolish woman you are.

“Where will you take me?”

“To my house. It would be a shame if your husband would see you like this, with visible injuries and a torn dress, wouldn't it?”

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

That's how long you stared into his eyes, and he stared into yours.

Both of you knew what this meant.

Yet no one spoke it out loud. Society forbade it. 

You exhaled a trembling breath, the truth of his words settling heavily between you. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “It would be a shame.”

Hongjoong’s eyes softened, as if he could read the unspoken pain behind your words. “Let’s go, then,” he said gently, guiding you along the path with Django following closely behind.

“You know,” you whispered, “a married woman should never visit a bachelor's property alone. Especially at such late hours.”

Hongjoong glanced at you, a faint, yet boyish smile playing on his lips. “If you go by the rules of society, then yes,” he said, “but I'm known to do the exact opposite.”

Hongjoong's house came into view after a short walk through the forest. It was a modest building outside the small village, yet it looked charming, nestled amid tall trees that swayed gently in the night breeze. The front was adorned with a small, covered porch, where a couple of wooden chairs and a table sat invitingly. Ivy climbed up the walls, giving the house an almost fairytale-like quality.

It seemed to be well kept too, a stark contrast to your own home.

As you approached, you noticed the sign above the door, “Kim’s Dressmaking,” written in elegant, swirling letters. It was clear that the front of the house doubled as a shop. The large windows displayed a variety of dresses, each more beautiful and intricate than the last, their fabrics shimmering softly in the dim light. 

You remembered the villager's harsh words, and for a small second you thought: should you really follow this unruly man? What if anyone would see you entering his house at night, completely alone?

But you also knew this was quite literally the only solution right now, because if your husband saw you at home tending to your wounds he'd know of your nightly trips, and you couldn't let that happen.

So, the outcast’s house it was.

Hongjoong, who just escorted Django back to a small stall behind the property, passed you and pushed open the door, the bell above it tinkling softly. The interior of the shop was a burst of colour and creativity. Dresses of all styles and fabrics lined the walls, hung from mannequins, and lay draped over chairs and tables. Ribbons, lace, and beads were strewn about in an organised chaos that spoke of hours of dedicated craftsmanship. The scent of fresh fabric and a hint of lavender lingered in the air.

These dresses were made for royalty, beautiful and extravagant, unlike anything normal citizens would wear. You pitied Hongjoong; his talent was being wasted in a small village, while queens and princesses should be the ones wearing them, not women talking badly about his craft the second he turned his back on them.

“Welcome to my workshop,” Hongjoong said, a note of pride in his voice. He led you through the shop and towards a door at the back. “The living area is just through here.”

You followed him into a cozy living space that was a stark contrast to the bustling shop. The room was warmly lit by a few oil lamps, casting a soft glow over the rustic wooden furniture. A large, comfortable-looking sofa took up most of one wall, with a knitted blanket draped over it. Shelves lined with books and trinkets filled another wall, and a small fireplace crackled with a gentle fire, providing a soothing warmth. A modest kitchen area occupied one corner, with a wooden table and two chairs positioned nearby.

“Sit,” Hongjoong instructed gently, guiding you to the sofa. “I'll get some water and bandages for your wounds.”

“Yes, sir,” you giggled, a childlike euphoria suddenly overcoming you. He shot you a grin in response.

You sank into the sofa, the softness a welcome relief after the night's ordeal. You watched as Hongjoong moved around in the kitchen, his movements swift and efficient.

After a few minutes, he returned with a bowl of warm water, a clean cloth, and a small box of medical supplies. He knelt beside you, his eyes focused and serious as he gently took your hands in his.

“This might sting a bit,” he warned, dipping the cloth into the water and carefully cleaning the dirt and blood from your scrapes. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you found yourself relaxing under his care.

“Thank you,” you murmured, watching him work. The tenderness in his actions was a stark contrast to the harshness you had endured at home.

“You're welcome,” he replied softly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to his task. He worked silently for a few moments, cleaning and bandaging your wounds with practised ease.

“Now,” he said, standing up and cleaning his hands with the washcloth, “all we gotta do is fix your dress now to avoid your husband suspecting anything.”

“I… I don't have any money to pay you,” you admitted.

Hongjoong shook his head, a kind smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry about that," he said. “Consider it my way of helping a neighbour in need. I mean, it was my goat who put you in this situation after all.”

The kindness in his words brought tears to your eyes, and you had to look away to hide your emotions. It's been an hour since you've met this man, and yet he already treated you better than people whom you should be closest to. It had been so long since someone had shown you such genuine care and concern.

Hongjoong led you to a small sewing table in the corner of the room, surrounded by bolts of fabric, spools of thread, and an array of needles and scissors. He pulled out a chair for you and you sat down, feeling a sense of peace settle over you.

“Can I ask another favour of you?” you asked quietly.

Hongjoong knelt down, now looking up to you. It made your heart beat faster, and you hated yourself for it.

“Go ahead,” he said, encouraging you to speak.

“Please don't leave any obvious stitches… my husband would notice and then he would get mad and I really don't-” 

“Hey, hey,” Hongjoong shushed you, carefully taking your trembling hand in his own.

His gentle touch seemed to soothe you immediately. 

“I'll give my very best. Your husband won't notice anything amiss,” he promised.

As he worked, carefully mending the torn fabric of your dress, you watched his skilled hands move with precision and grace. His focus was unwavering, and you couldn't help but admire the artistry in his every movement.

“You know,” you said softly, breaking the silence, “the women in the village talk about you. They say your dresses are too extravagant for common folk.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I've heard the gossip,” he admitted. “But I don't create these dresses for them. Let's say my clients are of more… different backgrounds.”

“You mean women of wealthier status?”

“Indeed.”

You couldn't help but giggle at Hongjoong's response.

“So does that mean… Did you just… indirectly make fun of those women, Hongjoong?” you asked, trying to stifle your laughter.

A mischievous smile spread across his face as he glanced up at you. “Maybe I did,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with a playful glint. “But it's only fair, don't you think? They judge me without understanding, too.”

You laughed again, the sound feeling foreign yet welcome to your own ears. 

Hongjoong’s returned to his work, his fingers working fast, his concentration unwavering. You watched him in awe. There was something comforting about watching him work, knowing he was doing his best to help you. And on top of that, his skills fascinated you. You didn't know much about the craft of dressmaking, yet even a layin like you knew that true skill was needed for such incredible work.

And Kim Hongjoong definitely had that skill.

“Why do you stay here?” you asked after a moment of silence, curiosity getting the better of you. “You could be making dresses for queens and princesses, living a life far away from all the judgement and poverty of this village.”

Hongjoong paused, his needle stopping mid-air as he looked up at you once again. “I could do that, you're right,” he agreed, “but I prefer living peacefully. Going back to the court… it's not what I want anymore. People there are difficult.”

“More difficult than here?”

He laughed. “Yeah, actually. Just in a different way.”

You hummed. Hongjoong finished mending your dress, carefully examining his work before looking up at you with a satisfied smile. “There,” he said, “all done. Your husband won’t notice a thing.”

You looked down at the dress, marvelling at his skill. The stitches were invisible, the fabric as good as new. “Thank you,” you said, your gratitude heavily evident in your voice.

He stood up, offering you his hand once more. “Let me walk you home,” he said. “It’s not safe for you to go alone.”

Panic rushed through you at his suggestion, your heart pounding in your chest. You jerked back, withdrawing your hand from his as if his touch burned you.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling, “I can't let you do that. What if someone sees us together? What if my husband finds out?”

Hongjoong's brows furrowed in concern. “But it’s not safe for you to walk alone at this hour. After what happened in the forest, I can’t just let you go unaccompanied.”

You shook your head vehemently, your hands clenching the fabric of your freshly mended dress. “I appreciate your kindness, Hongjoong, but you don’t understand. If anyone sees us together, it will only get worse for me. My husband… he's not a kind man. He'll make my life a living hell.”

Hongjoong's expression softened. He reached out as if to comfort you, but then hesitated as you took another step back. “I won’t let anything happen to you, but I understand your fear. At least let me watch and follow you from a distance, to make sure you get home safely.”

You nodded reluctantly. It was late after all, and even though the village was small, you still didn't feel safe walking back alone. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just… Please, be careful.”

Hongjoong gave you a reassuring nod. “I promise. Just stay close to the path, and I’ll make sure you get home safely.” He led you to the door, and as you stepped out into the night, the cool air brushing against your skin, you felt a sudden sadness overcoming you.

You didn't want to leave. Or moreover: you didn't want to go back. Back to him. 

With a final glance back at Hongjoong, you set off down the path, which was the opposite direction of where you first came to his house from the forest. 

The journey felt shorter than you wanted it to be, and before long, the familiar sight of your house came into view. The windows were dark, a sign that your husband was thankfully still asleep. You stopped at the edge of your property, your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced back at the shadowy figure of Hongjoong standing in the distance.

With a final nod and a slight wave, you turned away and walked up to the door. You opened it as quietly as you could, slipping inside and closing it behind you with a soft click. The house was silent, and only the steady ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard. You held your breath, listening for any sign of movement from your husband.

Silence. Good.

Because silence was always better than his usual rage and violence. 

“This is a good night,” you murmured. You quietly moved to the window, trying to see if Hongjoong was still there.

One last time. I gotta see him just one last time. 

But unfortunately, your kind and pretty stranger was no longer there.

The trees seemed to slowly close in around you. 

The forest surrounding you felt alive, watching, waiting.

A shiver ran down your spine as the sound of rustling leaves echoed ominously through the forest.

Just three more steps. One. Two. Three-

“Y/N?”

“Dear God!”

The sudden movement caused the reason you were here today to dart deeper into the underbrush. “Benji!” you called out, frustration now evident in your frantic voice.

Hongjoong stepped closer. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. What… are you doing here?”

You sighed. “I'm looking for a little cat. Met the little one last week, shortly before Django attacked me. He was gone afterwards. I've been coming here all week, but it's of no use. Last week he was so trusting, but now… it's so hard to even get close to him.”

The sun was piercing through the trees on this warm Friday evening, and you had to squint your eyes as you looked in the direction Benji ran away. 

“I can't see him anymore,” you said.

Hongjoong’s expression softened. “Do you want some help?” he asked. You nodded, shooting him an appreciative smile. “I’d really like that.”

The two of you moved cautiously, stepping lightly over the forest floor. The silence between you was punctuated only by the occasional crack of a twig or the rustle of leaves.

As you neared the spot where you last saw Benji, Hongjoong held up a hand, signalling for you to stop. He crouched down, peering into the thick bushes.

“There,” he whispered, pointing. “I see him.”

You followed his gaze and spotted the little cat, his eyes wide and alert as he watched you both from the shadows.

“Benji,” you called softly, your voice gentle. “It’s okay, buddy. We’re here to help you.”

Slowly, painstakingly, Benji inched closer, drawn by the sound of your voice. You took a tentative step forward, trying to maintain your balance on the uneven ground. Just as you were about to reach him, your foot slipped into a hidden hole in the forest floor. You stumbled, your ankle twisting painfully as you almost fell.

Behind you, Hongjoong reacted instantly, his strong hand grabbing your arm to steady you. You hissed in pain as his grip tightened around a particularly sore spot.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded quickly, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, just twisted my ankle a bit.” You chuckled awkwardly. “It's quite funny, isn't it? I always get hurt when we meet.”

But Hongjoong didn’t let go. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the bruises on your arm, previously hidden by your sleeve. “Y/N… what happened?” he asked, his voice a mix of anger and concern.

You swallowed hard, looking away. “It’s nothing. Just an accident at home.”

He shook his head, his grip gentle but firm. “Y/N, don’t lie to me. Was this… your husband?”

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Hongjoong, please. Y-you know I can't talk about it.”

“I know,” he whispered, “But…” 

He didn't continue his sentence. Instead, his eyes found yours, and everything he couldn't say, every single, unspoken emotion you found there, hidden behind those kind, brown orbs. 

And you understood. You understood that if this man had the chance to change your situation, he would do it. Whatever it would take, and all for you. 

A married woman. Practically a stranger still, despite the intimate moment you shared.

In that very moment, you sinned.

And God was your only witness as you fell a little bit for a man that wasn't your husband.

“Meow.”

Benji’s soft meow brought you back to the present. You looked down to see the little cat rubbing against your leg, practically purring his heart out. You reached down, gently scooping the little Grey fur ball up into your arms.

Hongjoong watched you, his expression unreadable to you. “He's still so little. You sure his mother isn't nearby as well?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I've been here to get him every day and haven't seen any other cat here. He seems to be completely alone.”

“Alright then, let’s get him to my home first. We’ll figure something out then.”

You nodded. Without even mentioning, Hongjoong knew you couldn't take him to your own home. 

The path back seemed shorter, perhaps because you weren't alone anymore. Benji fidgeted a lot, but wasn't as much of a trouble as you originally thought. 

When you reached the edge of the forest, the sunlight was brighter, and you could hear the distant sounds of the town.

“I'm glad you don't have any close neighbours.”

“I'm also glad. Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to see you right now Y/N,” he said, and smiled. Oh, that goddamn smile. 

You're not quite sure what it meant, but you felt your heart skip a beat. It was something so beautiful only described in those ‘unholy’ books your mother forbade you to read, but ended up doing anyway. You felt like a young girl again, curious and desperate for love, seeking solace in men that weren't real, but oh so charming.

Men who couldn't hurt you. Couldn't touch any part of your body, only your pure heart.

Yeah, that's how Kim Hongjoong made you feel. With only a smile. 

You felt like you were flying, so free and happy and brave and young again. Like you could conquer the whole world together. 

But Kim Hongjoong wasn't yours. Because in no world could you ever become his.

Stepping foot into his shop was like entering another work, and even though you've already seen his gorgeous dresses, you still looked at them in awe. 

“One day,” you whispered. 

“If you want, you can try a dress on. No one will bother us since the store's closed today.”

You shivered. Hongjoong stood almost right behind you, his warmth radiating off his body.

The temptation to indulge in this small fantasy was strong, but you shook your head. “I couldn’t possibly,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing at all,” Hongjoong replied, his tone gentle yet insistent. “Think of it as a gift. Besides, I could use some help around here.”

Your curiosity piqued and you turned to face him. “Help? With what?”

He gestured to the array of dresses on display. “I’ve been working on some new designs, but I don’t have a proper model to try them on. I use mannequins for display, but it’s not the same. I need someone to see how the dresses move and fit in real life. You can work for me in exchange for taking in Benji. Model my dresses, help me with fittings and adjustments. It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I'd like that,” you whispered, “it's just… these dresses are made for royalty, not for a woman like… like me, Hongjoong.”

He vehemently shook his head. “You underestimate yourself, Y/N. Just try one on, for me?”

You nodded slowly, and he selected a dress from the rack, a soft, flowing gown in a shade of deep emerald. You took it from him, feeling the weight and texture of the fabric, smooth and luxurious against your skin.

Hongjoong led you to a small changing area behind a curtain. You stepped behind it, your heart pounding. Carefully, you undressed and slipped into the gown. The fabric felt cool and comforting, draping over your body with an unexpected ease. You adjusted the dress, feeling its weight settle around you, and took a deep breath before stepping out.

Hongjoong's reaction was immediate and genuine. His eyes widened, a look of pure admiration spreading across his face. “Y/N,” he breathed, “you look… stunning.”

You blushed, feeling embarrassed yet also undeniably charmed. “I don’t know about that. It feels strange, like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“You’re not pretending,” he said softly, stepping closer. “This is you, Y/N. The real you. Sometimes a princess just needs the right dress to feel like one.”

You hesitated, still feeling unsure. “It’s just… I’m not used to this. I feel out of place.”

Hongjoong’s gaze was steady and reassuring, not once taking his eyes off of you. “You belong in this dress, Y/N. Trust me. Walk around a bit, feel the fabric, see how it moves with you.”

You took a tentative step, then another. The dress flowed around you, the fabric whispering against your skin. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, and for the first time, you saw what Hongjoong saw – a woman who was strong, beautiful, and so, so much more.

“See?” he said softly, standing right behind you. “You’re perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought hard to hold them back.

You're perfect.

Oh Hongjoong, you thought, I'm anything but. I'm lost, I'm weak, I'm scared. 

But instead, with his eyes on you, calm and beautiful and so honest looking, all you could mutter was, “Yes. Yes I am.”

He looked at you proudly.

And so, the hours went by, spent with you trying on several more gorgeous dresses and Hongjoong eagerly taking notes and making small changes here and there. 

With each dress you tried on, you felt a little more confident. The first few moments were always awkward, feeling out of place and almost guilty for indulging in this fantasy. But Hongjoong’s constant reassurance and the genuine admiration in his eyes slowly chipped away at your insecurities.

The emerald gown gave way to a sky-blue dress that shimmered in the light. Then a deep burgundy number that made your skin glow. Each dress was a work of art, and each time you emerged from behind the curtain, Hongjoong’s reaction was the same – pure, unadulterated admiration.

“You’re like a vision,” he murmured as you twirled in a pale pink gown. “These dresses come to life on you.”

By the time you tried on the final dress, a stunning midnight blue creation with delicate silver embroidery, you felt like a different person. The woman in the mirror was confident, elegant, and yes, perfect.

Like the princess from your book coming straight to life.

“You must be exhausted,” Hongjoong hummed, helping you step down the small podium, “go ahead and change while I fetch you something to drink, okay?”

“Okay.”

You slipped back behind the curtain. As you changed out of the midnight blue gown into your ordinary clothes, you felt the weight of reality slowly setting in again. 

Looking outside and seeing the sun slowly disappearing meant you head to return home.

Hongjoong returned with a glass of water and a soft smile. “Here you go,” he said, handing you the drink. “You did amazing today, Y/N. Thank you for helping me.”

You took the glass gratefully, feeling the cool water soothe your parched throat. “I'm glad I could be of help.”

“Alright, same day and time next week?” he asked.

Without wasting a second, you agreed. “Yes. I'll be there, Hongjoong.”

Wherever there was light, the lurking darkness was never far away, and you realised that pretty early on.

Even before Hongjoong stumbled into your life, you noticed something. Your husband wasn't coming home after getting off work, instead opting to spend his free time in the town's tavern or with his various affair partners.

And to be honest, you didn't mind.

Instead, you were happy about it. So so happy.

That is, until the townspeople started talking. Ruthlessly. And not about your abusive, alcoholic and cheating husband; no, about you - the ‘bad, sinning wife.’

The wife who couldn't be obedient enough. The wife who couldn't give him children. 

It was unbearable. Their words stung and hurt you deeply, but they were true.

…Right?

Your childhood and adolescence were spent learning about your future duties as a wife. Taking care of the house, obeying your husband without question, birthing his children and believing in God and his good deeds.

And you failed all these duties, so you deserved to be frowned upon. 

Even your own family thought so, too.

The only person who didn't was Kim Hongjoong, who was currently working on a purple gown you stood model for just a few minutes ago.

If he noticed how quiet you were today, he didn't mention it. 

“How does it look?” he asked, glancing up at you shyly, like your opinion truly mattered to him.

“It’s beautiful,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The gown was stunning, but that was to be expected of him. But today, even his pretty dresses couldn't cheer you up.

He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “It's even prettier when you're wearing it, Y/N.”

You blushed previously, but only managed a small smile in return, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thank you, Hongjoong. I just… I’m not feeling very well today.”

Hongjoong set his needle and thread aside, his full attention now on you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The genuine concern in his voice was almost your undoing. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, your finger nestling with the fabric of your shabby dress. “It’s nothing, really. Just… the usual gossip in town.”

His expression darkened slightly. “People can be cruel. You don’t deserve that.”

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly, looking away. “Maybe they’re right.”

“No,” Hongjoong said firmly, stepping closer. “They’re not right. You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You’re strong, and kind, and… you deserve so much more than what you’ve been given.”

A sob escaped your lips and you hid your face behind your hands, unable to face Hongjoong's eyes.

“H-how did you deal with this all alone? I can't… I don't even wanna leave my house anymore. The looks they give me, their words… It hurts so much, but I know they're right. I know that I-”

“What could you have possibly done wrong, Y/N?” Hongjoong cut you off, and for the first time since you've known him, he'd raised his voice, and you flinched, because anger could only ever mean one thing and soon his hands would-

His hands slowly took yours into his own, and instead of hurting you, they caressed you carefully as tears fell down your cheeks.

“I'm a bad wife, Hongjoong…”

He vehemently shook his head, his hands gripping your own tighter. “No, Y/N. You're not a bad wife. He is a bad husband.”

“Do you believe in God, Hongjoong?” you quietly asked.

He visibly tensed up, avoiding all eye contact. 

“It's okay,” you quickly reassured him, “I know in my religion it's a sin not believing, but since I'm also struggling… I really have no room to judge you for not believing in God. I also had my suspicions already, since you're one of the only people in town who doesn't attend Sunday mass.”

Hongjoong's shoulders relaxed a little, though he still seemed wary. "I don't know what I believe anymore," he admitted. "But I do know this: no god worth believing in would want you to suffer in a marriage like this.”

“I- please don't say that. God is good, he knows all, and if I am getting punished t-then that means that I deserve it! There's a verse... ah, God, a-according to... to Ephesians 5:22-24, ‘Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is head of the wife, as also Christ is head of the church; and He is the Savior of the body. Therefore, just as the church is subject to Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything’.”

Hongjoong sighed, his expression a mix of both frustration and empathy. “Y/N, I understand that those verses have been drilled into you, but what about the rest of it? The parts that speak about love and respect?”

You looked down, your hands trembling slightly. “I’ve tried to love and respect him, but nothing I do is ever enough.”

“That’s because he should give you the same love and respect in return, yet he doesn't,” Hongjoong said softly. “A true marriage should be a partnership, where both people uplift and support each other. What you have isn’t that.”

“But what if God is just testing me to see if my faith in him is strong enough? And I'm clearly failing him because I'm weak and… and… oh God.” You started sobbing uncontrollably again.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He spoke softly, his voice steady and reassuring. "Y/N, if God is testing you, it’s not to see you suffer but to help you find your strength. And strength doesn’t mean staying in a place where you are being hurt. Strength is knowing when to stand up for yourself and seek the life you deserve."

You clung to him like a child to its mother, your tears soaking his shirt. "I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve never known anything else.”

“You asked me if I believed in God,” he reluctantly began, “and… it's complicated. I do believe in something, like a higher power that none of us can truly grasp, but… I don't believe in the Christian God. Or any other religion's God for that matter. Because to me, believing in something shouldn't come with any rules. Yet all religions do it, and I just… I think that's wrong. They label anything that they aren't comfortable with immediately as bad. I learned that the hard way.”

You pulled back slightly, looking at him with curiosity through your tear-streaked eyes. "What do you mean?"

Hongjoong sighed, his eyes distant as he recalled. "I was… different growing up. I didn’t fit the stereotype that everyone expected. I was more interested in art and fashion than in the traditional roles laid out for men in our community. I grew up in a small religious city just like you and because of that, I faced a lot of judgement. I was labelled a sinner, a bad person, just like you are now. But what truly opened my eyes was when I met two men whom I quickly grew close with. Well… they were in love with each other, and the people from my town… they planned to kill them. By publicly executing them. That night, the three of us ran away, and I haven't been back since.”

“What I also wanna say,” he added before you could speak, “is that if you truly believe in the Christian God and it makes you happy you should never give up your faith. But Y/N… you're not happy, not with your religion and definitely not with your marriage.”

Deep down, you knew he was right. But that also meant that your whole life, your whole upbringing was nothing but a lie. Nothing but pure manipulation. 

And you weren't ready to admit that yet.

He held you for what felt like hours, humming soft melodies and caressing your back over and over again.

“I'm sorry,” you said, your words muffled in his shirt, “I'm sorry for not being able to choose the right path yet.”

“Oh, you silly woman.” he laughed and squeezed you tightly again, “don't you dare apologise for taking your time.”

“Okay,” you hiccuped, wiping your tears away, “I'm sorry for apologising- Oh God, I just did it again.”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, his laughter mixing with your own, lightening the heavy mood. 

After a while, he backed up, and you immediately started missing his arms around you. “Hey, I know you're not feeling too well today, but there's something I wanna do. Something for… for you.”

“For me?” you asked surprised.

“Yeah. You only stood model for dresses that needed nothing but slight retouching, but… I wanna do a dress specifically for you.”

“For me?” you repeated, disbelief colouring your voice. “You’d make a dress just for me?”

Hongjoong smiled warmly, nodding. “Yes, just for you. You're like my muse, Y/N. You give me so many ideas.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt your cheeks flaring up. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Hongjoong replied gently. “Just let me do this for you.”

You hesitated, then nodded slowly, trusting this man completely. “Okay.”

Hongjoong’s face lit up with pure excitement. “Great! Come, I have some ideas already.”

He led you into one of the rooms behind the shop. You quickly saw this was the place where he worked, full of mannequins, fabrics and more. He quickly set to work, pulling out fabrics and sketching designs into a sketchbook. His enthusiasm was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of genuine happiness.

“Do you have any preferences?” Hongjoong asked, looking up from his sketches. “A colour you love, a style you’ve always wanted to try?”

You thought for a moment. “I’ve always loved blue,” you admitted. “It reminds me of the sky, the sea… freedom.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened. “Blue it is, then. I can already see you in it, it suits you.”

As Hongjoong started working, you watched him silently in awe. His hands moved with precision and grace, his focus unwavering. It was clear that this truly was his passion, and he poured his heart into every stitch.

Hours passed, but there was still much to do. The room was filled with the soothing sound of fabric rustling and the rhythmic click of scissors. Hongjoong occasionally asked for your opinion, and after a while, Benji joined too, placing himself onto your lap and purring so loudly it made Hongjoong lose focus several times.

When the sun started slowly disappearing, it meant the end of your weekly session. “We made good progress today,” Hongjoong said, smiling. “Let's continue next week.”

When you returned home that day, the smile Hongjoong put on your face still hadn't left your face, not even when you saw the mess in your house or your husband passed out on the couch, completely wasted. Instead, you quietly started cleaning, all your worries and problems elsewhere because at that very moment, all you could think of was a certain man named Kim Hongjoong. 

And how you wished that, in another world, he could be your husband instead.

The next weeks seemed to drag on endlessly, each and every day filled with the same monotonous routine. Your husband’s drinking worsened, and the church, which had once been your one and only safe space, was slowly turning into a place you started to resent more and more each day, because every pair that laid its eyes on you was not viewing you with any kindness, but judgement, and the shame, the utter humiliation you felt was steadily becoming too much to handle. Yet, you reminded yourself that you did have something to look forward to: seeing Hongjoong once a week.

Every session with Hongjoong was a reprieve from the relentless condemnation you faced in the town. His shop became your sanctuary, a place where you could be yourself without fear of judgement. He was always there with a warm smile and a listening ear, making you feel valued and understood in a way you hadn't felt in years.

In a way not even family or close friends could.

One afternoon, as you entered his shop, you were greeted by Hongjoong slumped over his desk, sound asleep with both fabric and needles still in his hands.

You quietly walked over, careful not to startle him. Gently, you took the fabric and needles from his hands, setting them aside. You noticed dark circles under his eyes and the way his clothes hung loosely on his frame, signs of the toll his hard work and sleepless nights were taking on him.

Behind you, Benji made a sound, jumping on the table and staring at his owner.

“Your daddy is a little foolish for overworking himself, am I right baby?” you said, quietly chuckling as Benji laid his head in your outstretched hand. He didn't pay his owner any mind.

Hongjoong stirred at the sound of your voice, blinking awake. When he saw you, a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Y/N, I'm sorry. I must have dozed off.”

“Don't apologise,” you replied softly, still occupied with petting Benji. “You need to take better care of yourself, Joongie. You've been working too hard.”

He blushed at the nickname you called him, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “I just… wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

“Perfection can wait,” you said gently. “Your health can't.”

He nodded, looking genuinely touched by your concern. “I'll try to rest more. I promise.”

Benji meowed softly, seemingly agreeing with you, and you couldn't help but laugh. “Even Benji thinks so.”

“I'm pretty sure Benji would agree to everything his mommy would say, he practically worships the ground you walk on,” Hongjoong chuckled, reaching out to scratch the needy cat behind the ears. At your insistent gaze, he reluctantly agreed: “Alright, alright. I'll take it easy.”

“Good,” you said, smiling. “Now, how about some tea? It looks like you could use a break.”

Hongjoong nodded appreciatively. “That sounds wonderful.”

You made your way to the small kitchenette in the back of the shop, preparing two cups of tea. As the water boiled, you glanced back at Hongjoong, who was now petting Benji and looking more relaxed. It warmed your heart to see him taking a moment for himself.

When the tea was ready, you brought the cups over to the table and handed one to Hongjoong. He took a sip, closing his eyes as he savoured the warmth. “Thank you, Y/N. This is just what I needed.”

“You do so much for me, let me tend to you once in a while too,” you said.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, respectively sipping your tea. After a few moments, Hongjoong broke the silence. “I've been thinking a lot lately,” he began, his voice tentative. “About what you said last time, about the church and how they've been treating you.”

You looked up from your tea, meeting his eyes. “What about it?”

“I've seen how much it's been weighing on you, and it breaks my heart,” he said, his gaze sincere. “But as a mere villager, my hands are bound, although I wish it would be different. Do you think… Do you think it would help if I would accompany you to Sunday mass? Of course separately, but maybe… maybe that could be of help to you.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the sound almost deafening in the quiet of the room. His offer sent waves of emotions crashing through you.

No one had ever been this kind, this lovely to you, especially a man.

You stared at him, momentarily speechless, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm, comforting blanket. He wanted to help you, to stand by you in a place that had become a source of pain and humiliation, for the both of you. He cared enough to offer a hand in a situation he knew he had no control over, and the realisation hit you like a bolt of lightning.

You glanced down at your cup, the steam rising in delicate tendrils, and tried to steady your breathing. You had always known that Hongjoong was different, that he was shunned for being different, and that he had a kindness and understanding that was rare in this judgmental town. But now, as you sat there with him, you also realised something else: your feelings for him ran deeper than you had allowed yourself to acknowledge.

Million thoughts swirled in your mind. How could you feel this way about him when you were still bound to a man who had long since stopped caring for you? Your duty as a wife was to be loyal to your husband till death do you apart, and you failed. Miserably. Was it fair to Hongjoong, who had done nothing but support and uplift you, to be dragged into your complicated, painful life? 

No. He deserved a woman who could give him everything he wanted, and that definitely wasn't you. You couldn't even give him your hand in marriage.

And yet, despite the confusion and the guilt, there was an undeniable truth you couldn't ignore: you were falling for him. 

He was the prince you long had hoped you'd find, but you weren't his princess.

You thought back to all the times he had been there for you, his gentle words and warm smiles, the way he listened to you without judgement, making you feel seen and heard. His dedication to his craft, his passion for creating beauty in a world that often seemed devoid of it, mirrored the passion he had for helping you and any living being he encountered. It was this combination of compassion and creativity, of understanding and resilience, that drew you to him like a moth to a flame.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked back at him, his concerned expression making your heart ache. 

He had no idea what was going on inside your head, and in this very moment you made a promise to yourself: the feelings you harboured for this beautiful, perfect man would be kept a secret forever. You would take them with you to your very death.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “Hongjoong,” you began, your voice trembling, “I... I don't know what to say. Your offer means the world to me. Truly.”

“But?” he asked, knowing you weren't quite done talking yet.

“I have to decline. I'm not gonna stand by and watch you going into a church you clearly don't want to go to. There's no reason for you to do so,” you said firmly.

“But there is a reason,” he whispered, his fingers slowly drawing patterns on the palm of your hand. You had to take your eyes off him. “You. You are the reason.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and the room seemed to blur around you as his words echoed in your mind. You. You are the reason. How could someone so selfless, so kind, want to sacrifice his comfort for yours? The weight of his sincerity bore down on you, making it difficult to breathe. You wanted to believe that you could accept his offer, lean on him without reservation, but the reality of your situation loomed large and impossible to ignore.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, threatening to spill over. You couldn’t let him do this. You couldn’t let him tie himself to your miseries and your complicated life. He deserved so much more.

But knowing Kim Hongjoong, he wouldn't accept no for an answer, and so you said quietly, “I'll think about it.”

He smiled brightly at you, his hand finding yours and squeezing it tightly. Your wedding ring was an uncomfortable reminder of the future this bond of yours would hold in the future.

Suddenly, Hongjoong's eyes lit up with a familiar spark of excitement. “I think it's time for you to see it,” he said, standing up with renewed energy. 

“See what? The dress?! You're already finished?!”

Instead of answering, he led you to the back of the shop, where a tall, covered mannequin stood. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled away the cloth, revealing a dress so exquisite it took your breath away.

The gown was a deep, saturated blue that shimmered like the ocean under a sky full of shining stars. The bodice was intricately embroidered with silver thread, forming delicate patterns of stars and swirling vines. The neckline was elegant and modest, dipping just enough to be flattering without being revealing. The sleeves were long and fitted, ending in graceful points that brushed against the tip of your hands, embroidered with the same silver designs that already adorned the bodice.

The skirt flowed from the waist in cascading layers of silk and tulle, creating a voluminous yet ethereal effect. Each layer was edged with even more silver embroidery. The back of the dress featured a row of tiny, delicate buttons that ran from the nape of the neck to the small of the back, adding a touch of old-world charm.

You gasped, unable to fathom what you were seeing. “Hongjoong, it’s... it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His entire being seemed to relax as a delicate reddish colour adorned his cheeks. “Thank God you like it, it would've been worthless if not.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached out to touch the dress, your fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you, Joongie. I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled gently. “How about trying it on? I’d love to see you in it - No, I need to see you in it.”

You nodded, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Hongjoong carefully lifted the gown from the mannequin and handed it to you. You stepped behind the changing screen, the luxurious fabric feeling cool and smooth against your skin.

As you tried to change into the gown, you realised just how intricate it truly was. The buttons down the back were nearly impossible to fasten on your own, and the delicate fabric seemed to slip through your fingers. You struggled with the fastenings, your frustration obvious as you fidgeted with each and every button like a little child.

“Hongjoong,” you called out softly, your voice trembling. “I think I might need some help.”

He was at your side in an instant, sending your heart into a frenzy. 

So close.

Too close? 

No, not close enough.

“Of course, let me help you.” His fingers moved carefully over the buttons, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of intimacy as he worked, his hands warm and steady against your back.

When the last button was fastened, he stepped back, his eyes wide with admiration. “Y/N, you look... absolutely stunning.”

You stepped out from behind the screen, feeling like you had stepped into a fairy tale. The dress fit perfectly, accentuating your figure perfectly and complimenting every unique feature of yours. You twirled slightly, the skirt flowing around you like a dream.

Not once did Hongjoong’s eyes leave you. “It’s perfect,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

Your blush deepened as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. The dress was everything you had ever dreamed of and more.

As you moved, you felt the cool brush of the fabric against your bare skin, a sensation that made you acutely aware of your body in a way you hadn’t felt in years. Just seconds before, Hongjoong’s hands had lingered on your back, and the memory of his touch sent a jolt of both pleasure and guilt through you. The touch of a man, one who truly cared for you, was something you hadn’t realised how much you really had craved until now. 

“I feel like a princess,” you whispered. You didn't notice a tear streaming down your check until Hongjoong carefully cupped your face and wiped it away. 

“Would the princess like to dance with me?” he sheepishly asked, sending a playful wink your way that made you both laugh and blush.

You managed a smile through your tears. “Yes, I would love that.”

Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled with joy as he extended his hand to you. You placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. He led you to the centre of the room, where he gently placed his other hand on your waist, the contact sending a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you both stood there, simply enjoying the shared closeness. Then, slowly, he began to guide you in a swift motion, your movements mirroring each other with an ease that felt almost magical.

The dress flowed around you as you twirled. Hongjoong's eyes never once left yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of undying bliss and something deeper, something you were almost afraid to name.

“My husband never danced with me, not even on our wedding day,” you said.

Hongjoong’s expression softened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he led you in another gentle turn. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You looked up at him, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “Hongjoong, I…”

He shook his head slightly, stopping your words with a gentle smile. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. Just… let’s enjoy this moment. Let’s pretend, even if it’s just for a little while, that the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you followed his lead, the two of you moving together in perfect harmony. In his arms, the weight of your troubles seemed to lift, if only for a brief moment. The dress, the dance, the soft glow of the afternoon light filtering through the shop’s windows - it all felt like a scene from your favourite romance books.

You and Hongjoong were lost in the moment, the world around you fading into the background as you danced together. His hand on your waist, the warmth of his touch, the way his eyes never left yours - it was all so perfect, so right, like nothing else in your entire life.

Just as Hongjoong spun you gracefully, a voice shattered your beautiful moment. “Well, what do we have here?”

You both froze, turning to see an elderly woman standing in the doorway, her sharp eyes fixed on you. You didn’t recognize her, but there was an unmistakable air of authority surrounding her. Hongjoong stiffened beside you, his hand dropping from your waist as he quickly took a step back.

“Mrs. Lee,” he said, his voice stern but polite. “What brings you here?”

Mrs. Lee’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene, her gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks and the way you were anxiously clenching the skirt of the beautiful dress. “I’ve been looking for you, Hongjoong. We need to talk about my daughter.”

Your heart sank, and a wave of terror washed over you. You quickly stepped away from Hongjoong, trying to compose yourself.

“I… I should go,” you stammered, avoiding Mrs. Lee’s piercing gaze. “Thank you for everything, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong reached out, his hand gently touching your arm. “Y/N, wait-”

Mrs. Lee’s voice cut through the tension. “Hongjoong, I’ve been very patient with you. My daughter, Sooyeon, is a good match for you, and it’s time you stop dilly-dallying and make a decision.”

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. “Mrs. Lee, I’ve told you before, I’m not ready for marriage.”

Mrs. Lee scoffed, her eyes flicking to you with clear disdain. “Not ready for marriage, yet you have time for… this?” She gestured between the two of you, her meaning unmistakable.

You felt a flush of shame and panic. “This isn’t what it looks like. I'm a married woman,” you began, but Mrs. Lee cut you off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Save your breath, young lady. I know exactly what this is. And believe me, the town and your husband will hear about it!”

The threat hung heavy in the air, and you could see the worry etched on Hongjoong’s face. You almost fainted at the panic that rushed over you. He stepped forward, placing himself slightly between you and Mrs. Lee. “There’s no need for threats, Mrs. Lee. Y/N and I were just… discussing some alterations for her dress.”

Mrs. Lee raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Discussing alterations, were you? In each other’s arms?”

Hongjoong opened his mouth to respond, but you couldn’t bear it any longer. “Please, Mrs. Lee,” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s not what you think.”

I don't wanna die. 

I don't wanna die.

She looked at you, her lips forming into a cold smile. “I’ll keep this quiet - for now. But only if Hongjoong agrees to meet with my daughter. Alone.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Mrs. Lee replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Think about it, Hongjoong. Both your reputation is on the line here.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the ultimatum pressing down on all three of you. Finally, Hongjoong sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. I’ll meet with Sooyeon.”

Mrs. Lee’s smile was triumphant. “Good. I’ll expect you at my house tomorrow evening.”

With that, she turned and left the shop, leaving you and Hongjoong standing in shocked silence. You could feel the tears welling up, the reality of the situation crashing down around you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hongjoong shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. None of this is.”

You wanted to believe him, but the guilt and fear were overwhelming. “I should go,” you said.

Hongjoong tried to stop you, but you rushed behind the curtain and hastily took the dress off. Finally, in your normal clothes again, Hongjoong tried to get ahold of you, but you took off in such a hurry he couldn't even open his mouth and practically sprinted out the open door.

“Y/N, wait,” he called after you, but you were already out the door, the tears streaming down your face. As you hurried home, you could only hope that Mrs. Lee would keep her word, because if not, there was a real possibility you would be dead real soon.

And the man you loved as well.

Your family's stall at the weekly market was as busy as ever. The familiar hustle and bustle of vendors calling out their wares and customers bartering for the best deals filled the air. You tried to focus on helping your mother arrange the vegetables, but your mind kept drifting away. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” your mother asked, her brow furrowed with concern as she noticed your distracted state.

You forced a smile. “Yes, mama. Just tired, I guess.”

She took off her gloves and took your face into her callused hands. Your body immediately relaxed at your mother's touch, while your mind was spiralling. 

“I should've never let your father marry you off to this douchebag,” she tearfully exclaimed.

Ah. There it was. The lies.

You knew your mother had always harboured guilt about your marriage, but it wasn't fair for her to carry the blame. It was a decision made by your father, and you had gone along with it, hoping for the best. But the weight of her words only added to the turmoil inside you. Her attempts at comfort now seemed hollow, given how often she had turned a blind eye to your suffering.

“It's not your fault, Mama,” you said gently, placing your hand over hers. “You couldn't have known how things would turn out.”

She sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I just want you to be happy, Y/N. You deserve so much more than this.”

Her words stung. Where was this concern when you needed it most? When your cries for help went unheard?

While your father and older sisters didn't even pretend to care, your mother did - in a way. Yet never enough to actually help.

Maybe blaming her was too much. You knew that without your father's approval she couldn't do anything. After all, she was just a woman like you, trapped in a time where all you could do was listen and obey the men in your lives.

Yet it hurt. So much. Sometimes, all you wanted was to return to better times. Back in your mother's lap, laughing with your sisters while she told stories about love and worlds too perfect for your understanding. 

You were the last unmarried child remaining in your parents house. All your sisters were married off to good, somewhat wealthy husbands, either already with child and or waiting to be blessed with the fruit of life. All was well, until your father's business began to lose some serious money. He grew desperate to maintain the family's status, and in his desperation, he had accepted the first marriage proposal that came your way - no matter the man behind it. 

While all your sisters were given away to live in good, wealthy living households like the one you grew up in, your husband was working in a factory, barely making enough to support himself, yet alone a wife and future offspring. 

On top of that, he didn't even hide the fact how he was treating you. Your family knew. The town knew. Yet no one really cared, because you were now nothing but a poor, lowly woman.

And so, you became an outcast in your own family. You were the sister who had married below her status, the daughter who had brought shame to the family name. Your father, once proud and authoritative, could hardly look at you without a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. Your sisters, though affectionate in public, whispered behind your back, their words filled with pity and disdain.

Your mother's concern, when it did come, was always in private. She would hold you and cry, promising that she had tried to convince your father to wait for a better match, that she had tried fighting for you. But where was she when you needed her most? When you had begged her to intervene, to stop the marriage, she had been silent. When you had showed up late at night with wounds serious enough to kill, she sent you right back home. And now, her tears felt like salt in an old, festering wound.

But while your mother had her faults, she was really the only family member you could really confide in. So, you took a deep, steady breath and turned to her with a determined expression. “Mom, there's something I need to tell you. Siwoo… Siwoo's-”

“Y/N,” she cut you off, “Don't slander your husband's name in front of me.”

“Mom, please-”

“Enough! We're in public!” she hissed, glancing around nervously.

You bit your lip, the words dying in your throat. The market's noise seemed to close in around you, a suffocating reminder of the ever-watchful eyes of the townspeople. You had learned long ago that your cries for help would only fall on deaf ears or, worse, invite further scrutiny and gossip.

So you swallowed your pain and simply nodded. “Yes, Mama. I'm sorry.”

She looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of regret and helplessness. “Let's finish up here. We'll talk later at home. Could you deliver the usual supplies to Mrs. Goo? You know the old lady can't walk anymore, but she pays us well. Your sister's too busy with the children to do it herself.”

You nodded again, grateful for the distraction. As you gathered the supplies and made your way through the busy market, you tried to steady your nerves. The fresh air and distance from the stall helped clear your mind a bit, but your conversation with your mother still pressed down on you.

She didn't even try to listen to you.

Navigating the crowded paths, you marvel at the sights and sounds of the market: the colourful array of various products, the lively chatter of people, the smell of freshly baked bread. It was a small reprieve from everything, yet it didn't keep your mind occupied for long. 

Turning a corner, you nearly bumped into Hongjoong, who was accompanied by Mrs. Lee's daughter, Sooyeon. The first thing you noticed was how awkward he seemed with her, keeling the woman at arms length, a stark contrast to how natural and at ease he was when he was with you.

“I'm really bad with women,” he said, clearly embarrassed. 

You chuckled. “I don't believe you. You act so natural and nonchalant when you're with me! Does that mean I'm not a real woman in your eyes? you teasingly asked.

His expression turned serious. “Of course I see you as a woman. But… everything feels easy when it comes to you.”

“Hongjoong!” you exclaimed, surprised.

You hadn't seen each other for a month now, but if he had something to say about you avoiding him, he didn't speak on it.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, but his smile was somewhat strained. “Y/N, it's good to see you.”

Sooyeon glanced between the two of you, a curious look on her face. “Hello, Y/N. How are you?” she asked, her tone polite but detached.

“I'm well, thank you. Just running some errands for my mother,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. You could sense the tension in Hongjoong's stance, the way he seemed almost relieved to see you yet burdened by Sooyeon's presence.

“Oh, look at those flowers! They’re so pretty!” Sooyeon suddenly exclaimed, her attention captured by a nearby stall. She moved toward the vibrant display, leaving you and Hongjoong a few moments alone.

Hongjoong let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Y/N, I’ve missed seeing-”

Your whole demeanour changed. Now, you thought, now's the only chance I got.

“Joong, I need your help,” you urgently whispered.

He glanced over at Sooyeon, ensuring she was still distracted. “How can I?...”

You clasped his hands with all the strength left in you. “He's gonna kill me. Tonight. H-he… he bought a gun. He's going to kill me and there's nothing I can do!” you sobbed.

Hongjoong's eyes widened in alarm, and he squeezed your hands reassuringly. “Y/N, we have to get you out of there. Do you have anywhere safe to go?”

You shook your head, panic making your thoughts race. “No, I have nowhere. I can't go back to my parents. They won't help.”

He looked around, his mind clearly racing as well. “We’ll figure something out. But first, you need to stay calm. We don’t want to draw any attention.”

“Please, Hongjoong, I’m so scared,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He nodded firmly. “I know, but you’re not alone. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Sooyeon returned, holding a bouquet of vibrant flowers. “Aren’t these lovely?” she asked, oblivious to the tension.

Oblivious to the fact that in just a few hours, you would be dead. Literally gone. Irradiaticated from the world.

He forced a smile. “They are, Sooyeon.”

You took a step back, the moment of closeness slipping away. “I should get going. Take care, Hongjoong. And you too, Soo Yeon.”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

I'll be coming to your house later, his eyes said.

And I'll be waiting for you, Kim Hongjoong, you answered, before turning around and walking away.

You wondered if you would ever see the man you loved again. Because if he wasn't fast enough, all he would see was your dead body on the cold floor.

The clock you'd usually hear ticking in the background now lay broken on the floor, just like everything else in this godforsaken home.

In his rage this morning, Siwoo had left nothing, beating your home and your body until nothing but a mess was left behind.

Quietly, you sat in the corner of the room, your breath shallow and uneven. You waited.

And while you did, you asked yourself one last question: how would you face your death?

Would you face it fiercely, staring it directly in the eye, brave and unwavering? The thought appealed to you, the idea of going down with defiance and dignity. But the truth was, you didn't feel brave. You felt small and terrified, a helpless pawn in a cruel game, played by a man who created his own evil rules. The bruises on your body, the scars on your soul, they only told a story of survival, not of courage.

Would you cry, beg for mercy while already knowing that there was nothing saving you from this cruel fate? Your tears had dried up long ago, replaced by a numbing acceptance. You had begged before, pleaded for mercy in both whispers and screams, but Siwoo's cruelty knew no bounds. He thrived on your pain, feeding on your despair. You learned that begging would only fuel his sadistic pleasure.

Or would you smile and take its hand, leaving this world knowing that this life was all you had, that there was no use grieving it no more? This life, filled with suffering and loss, had hardly been spent well. But in the midst of all the darkness, there were fleeting moments of light - memories of laughter with your sisters, the warmth of your mother's embrace, the gentle kindness of Hongjoong. Perhaps those moments were enough to justify a smile, a final act of defiance against a life that had sought to break you.

There was no time for an answer. The door creaked open, and Siwoo stepped in, his eyes cold and merciless. 

You could almost feel death’s cold breath on your neck with his arrival. 

He approached slowly, savouring the fear he thought he saw in your eyes. "Ready for round two?" he sneered, raising a hand to strike you again.

But something inside you snapped. Perhaps it was the realisation that you had nothing left to lose, or perhaps it was the flicker of defiance that had always burned within you, hidden beneath layers of pain and submission. As his hand came down, you moved.

With a speed and strength born of desperation, you grabbed the broken clock from the floor and swung it at him. The sound of shattering glass and metal was followed by his roar of pain as the clock connected with his head. He stumbled back, blood streaming down his face, his eyes wide with shock.

“You bitch!” he screamed, lunging at you. But you were ready. You dodged his attack and grabbed a shard of broken glass from the floor. The sharp edge bit into your palm, but you didn't care. You had only one thought: survival.

As he came at you again, you thrust the glass into his side. He howled in agony, doubling over. You didn't stop. You couldn't stop. You pulled the glass out and stabbed him again, and again, each thrust fueled by years of pent-up fear, anger, and pain.

He fell to the floor, clutching at his wounds, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You stood over him, your chest heaving, blood dripping from your hands. For a moment, you simply watched him, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice weak and broken. “Please…”

But there was no mercy left in you. You raised the glass one final time and- 

A hand grabbed yours. You immediately knew it wasn't your husband's, because he would never touch you like this, all soft and careful.

“Y/N,” the voice said, “Don't do it. Don't ever be like him.”

He gently pried the glass shard from your hand, his touch tender but firm. You fell into his arms, the weight of everything crashing down on you at once. His embrace was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the violence you had just endured. He held you close, murmuring soothing words you couldn't quite make out over the sound of your own sobs.

“It's okay, it's over,” he whispered, his hand stroking your hair. “I'm here now.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a glimmer of hope. Hongjoong was here. Your Hongjoong was here. You weren't alone anymore.

It could've been the end, but the moment was short-lived. 

Siwoo, with a last surge of strength, lunged at you both. His fist connected with Hongjoong's face, sending him sprawling to the floor. His punches were relentless, each blow harder than the last, and you screamed for him to stop. But he wouldn't, he couldn't. He was beyond reason, lost in his own madness. Siwoo turned to you, his eyes blazing with fury. He grabbed you by the hair, yanking you to your feet.

“You think you can get away with this?” he snarled. “You're nothing but a woman, Y/N. My woman! I can do whatever I want with you!”

You struggled relentlessly against his grip, the pain in your scalp sharp and blinding. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hongjoong trying to get up, blood trickling from his nose. Siwoon turned his attention towards your lover.

In that split second, you remembered the gun. The one Siwoo had bought. It was in the bedroom, just a few steps away. You had to get to it. You had to end this.

With a surge of adrenaline, you twisted in Siwoo's grasp, breaking free. You stumbled towards the bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest. You could hear Siwoo's footsteps behind you, his curses filling the air.

You burst into the bedroom and saw the gun on the nightstand. Your hands trembled as you grabbed it, turning just in time to see Siwoo barreling towards you, yanking Hongjoong with him. You raised the gun, your finger now laying directly on the trigger.

“Get away from him!” you screamed, your voice shaking.

Siwoo paused, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “You think you can scare me with that?”

Your hands steadied, and you took a deep breath. You locked eyes with your man for a second. “You're right, Hongjoong. I'm not like him. I'm worse.”

The first shot rang out, deafening in the small room. Siwoo's eyes widened in shock as the bullet hit him. You didn't stop. You couldn't. You fired again, and again, each shot a release of years of pain and fear and rage.

Siwoo collapsed to the floor, his body twitching one last time, blood pooling around him. You stood over him, the gun still in your hands, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

He was dead. You dropped the gun and turned to Hongjoong, who was struggling to sit up. You rushed to his side, cradling his face in your hands.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

He nodded weakly, his eyes filled with pain but also relief. “I am. But you aren't.”

It wasn't a question, yet you shook your head. You laughed, and Hongjoong looked at you like you were crazy. Maybe you were. 

“I've never felt this good,” you whispered, “because now I can do this.”

Careful to not hurt him further, you took his face into your hands. He was all bloody, but nonetheless beautiful.

And then, you pressed your lips onto his, desperate and hungry and so, so much more.

Hongjoong responded, his arms wrapping around you despite the pain. He held you close, pouring all his love and reassurance into the kiss. When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

But as the adrenaline faded, reality started to set in. The room was a mess, the evidence of the struggle all around you. The sight of Siwoo's lifeless body, the blood on the floor, and the gun still warm in your hand triggered a rising panic within you.

You started to hyperventilate, your breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. “What have I done? Hongjoong, what have I done?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Hongjoong cupped your face in his hands, trying to calm you down. “Y/N, look at me. Focus on me. We need to think clearly.”

But it was too late. The full weight of what had just happened crashed down on you. You screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the house. You fell to the floor, clutching your head, rocking back and forth as the horror of the situation consumed you.

Hongjoong knelt beside you, trying to soothe you, but his own panic was beginning to surface. “Y/N, please, we need to stay calm. We need to make a plan.”

His words barely registered through the fog that clouded your brain. Your cries grew louder, more desperate, as you struggled to comprehend the violence you had just unleashed.

“My angel, my love”, he pleaded with you, “listen to me. You have to listen to what I-”

In the distance, you both heard the sound of approaching footsteps and voices. Many approaching footsteps and noises. The shots had already alerted the people, and they were coming to investigate. The panic in Hongjoong's eyes matched your own as he realised the danger you were in.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he said urgently, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you lightly to get your attention. “We don't have much time. They're coming.”

Through your tears, you managed to focus on him. “What do we do, Hongjoong? What do we do?!”

His mind raced as he formulated a plan. It was desperate and dangerous, but it was the only way he could think to protect you. He picked up the gun and looked at you with a pained expression. “Y/N, I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

You nodded without hesitation. “I-i do, Joongie. Of course I do! But don't you dare try to endang-”

Before you could protest further, he aimed the gun right at your leg and pulled the trigger. The pain was immediate and excruciating, a burning agony that shot through your body. You screamed, collapsing to the floor, clutching your wounded leg.

Just a moment later, numerous people burst through the door, their eyes widening at the violent scene before them. Siwoo's body on the floor, you bleeding and crying, and Hongjoong holding the gun.

“What have you done?” you cried out, not even realising this sent off a completely wrong message to all the surrounding people. 

What you meant was why, why would he ever sacrifice himself like that.

Why?

Why? 

But all the mob heard was you screaming in anger at the man who just supposedly killed your husband, and now tried to shoot you.

Why, you wanted to scream. At whom you weren't too sure; at the universe, at God, at Hongjoong himself.

And as the angry mob launched at him, as multiple people were surrounding you and the lifeless corpse of your former husband, all you could think about was how not one, but two men lost their lives today.

Your abuser, and your lover.

And in the middle of it there was a woman who wept for them both, once out of sheer, unexplainable happiness, and once at the loss of the man whom she could now never hold in her arms again.

Part 2 here.

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"Case: It's You" Masterlist

Pairing: Detective Reader x ot8 detective ateez

Genre: enemies to lovers, romance, eventual smut, dark themes, angst.

Synopsis: As a headstrong detective- forced to transfer to another Precinct after pushing your team, and superiors too far- your new unit is less than pleased by your presence. In fact, they are down right hostile, resulting in more time butting heads than doing your job: taking down the organized crime 'gangs' of your city. Once you finally get your foot in the door, into their circle, you realize you bit off more than you can chew- or maybe it was the perfect place for you.

Current Word Count of all chapters combined: 66,406

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five |

Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten |

Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen |

♡15.5- Spinoff bonus |♡

Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty |

Twenty-one | Twenty-two | Twenty-three | Twenty-four | Twenty-five |

Twenty-six | Twenty-seven | Twenty-eight | Twenty-nine | Thirty

If you would like to be added to the taglist, you can apply with this link: form

Big shoutout to my beta readers that are currently the soul motivation for this fic and remind me to edit: @flurrys-creativity @candypop1611 and @daemour

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I Can't Lose You-Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT. 

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Please read each warnings carefully and heed them. This fanfic will have angst themes and later more adult content. Read the warnings and Follow them!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

I WON'T LOSE YOU (ICLY 7.5)

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

ALL MINE (ICLY 11.5)

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14-Under Construction...

Stray Kids Tag Army:

@Fuckthinking, @feybin , @1-800-shedevil , @channiesbakery, @channieswhore , @hwangswhore , @seungminhour , @skzms, @angstraykids, @roseykat, @seventeenytiny , @dreaming-medium , @thunderous-wolf , @hanjsquokka , @moonjxsung, @diddybok, @fics-lovebot, @seungminssangel, @straykeedz, @tasteracha, @ven-fic-recs , @euphoric-univers, @camilagonzalex , @juskz, @antoniorhinothethird, @mariteez, @armystay89, @i-like-nougat, @yeonjunsfox

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Synopsis:

The two most influential and feared Korean Crime families, the Lobos and the Clowder's, hate each other.

They have always been, and always will be, enemies.

So when two of them meet by chance outside of the confines of their families, how can they reconcile a lifelong distrust, with their new found love?

-or-

"We're enemies."

"I'm not your enemy, Ji."

MINORS DNI ♡ Pairing: Minho x Jisung ♤ Genre: Mafia AU, Romeo x Romeo ♢ Warnings: Violence, foul language throughout, angst(?), mxm ♧ Authors Note: this is my first ever fan fiction! Feedback welcome.

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ IN PROGRESS ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ ♤ ♡ Lads, it's basically a novel...♢ ♧

♤ ♡ ♢ ♧ CHAPTERS ♤ ♡ ♢ ♧

♤ Chapter 1 - Parley word count <8k

♧ Chapter 2 - The DLC word count >6k

♢ Chapter3 - Broken Compass

♢ ♧ If you made it this far, thank you for your support! ♤ ♡ please consider leaving a comment, like or reblog ♤ ♡ ©2024Intrikatie ♢ ♧ Ao3 ♤ ♡