“Cherry Coke & Cigarettes”

“No One Else” — Part 7: “The Silence Between Us”

Genre: Dark romance, emotional unraveling, obsession

Tone: Cold war tension, quiet heartbreak, dangerous buildup

I have no music for this one😖

⸻

You didn’t answer that night.

And you didn’t follow him when he walked away.

That was the beginning.

The shift.

The unraveling.

⸻

You stopped texting first.

You sat with other people at lunch.

You let your headphones drown him out in the hallway. Walked past him without slowing down. Not in hatred—just in resistance.

You needed to know if you were still a person without him. If your thoughts were your own. If your voice didn’t echo back his name every time you breathed.

He noticed, of course.

He always noticed.

⸻

At first, he didn’t confront you.

Just watched.

From his usual spot near the stairs. Or across the hall. Or from a corner of the convenience store he never used to go to.

He watched you laugh with someone else.

He watched you tuck your phone deeper into your bag.

He watched the space between you grow like a wound.

And then—he started cracking.

⸻

It came out in bursts.

One day, he grabbed your wrist in the hallway. Too tight. Too fast.

“Don’t ignore me,” he said.

You stared at him, calm and deliberate. “You said to choose. I’m choosing.”

He didn’t let go.

His hand was shaking.

You’d never seen him shake before.

“You think walking away makes you free?” he asked. “You think I’ll just disappear?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Do you want to disappear, Seong-je?”

That made something in him snap.

He let go.

But the next day?

He wasn’t at school.

And neither was the guy you’d been working on the project with.

⸻

You found out through someone else that the kid ended up in the nurse’s office with a busted lip and no explanation.

You didn’t ask.

You knew.

You went home that night with your heart pounding and your stomach twisted.

You wanted space.

But distance from Geum Seong-je didn’t feel like freedom.

It felt like walking through a minefield barefoot.

⸻

He didn’t show up again for three days.

And for three days, you slept with your phone on your pillow, waiting.

Not because you missed him.

But because some part of you knew—when he came back, he wouldn’t come quietly.

And if you weren’t ready, he’d take back everything you were trying to reclaim.

One word at a time.

“Glass Cage: Part 9 – The Night They Came”

Geum Seong-je x fem!reader | heavy angst,

Guys I’m sorry for doing this to y’all. But I couldn’t help it. Trust when I say your are gonna need to listen to this song while reading this ok😓🙏🏻🙏🏻

⸻

It was raining.

A quiet, warm rain that tapped gently on the windows like it didn’t want to disturb anything.

The house smelled like vanilla and red wine.

The soft hum of the heater filled the room.

The baby had just fallen asleep — her little fists curled under her chin, breathing soft and perfect.

You’d both stood over her crib a little longer tonight.

Just looking.

Seong-je had kissed your temple and whispered:

“She looks like you when she sleeps.”

You smiled, eyes full.

“You say that every night.”

He just grinned, kissed your lips next, and turned the baby monitor on.

⸻

You sat together by the window, watching the rain blur the world.

Two glasses of wine.

His fingers intertwined with yours.

Married.

Safe.

Hidden.

In love.

You almost believed the world had forgotten you.

You almost believed forever could fit inside four walls.

And then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three deafening knocks on the front door.

Too hard.

Too fast.

Too official.

You jolted.

Wine glass spilled.

Your heart stopped.

Seong-je was already on his feet.

You grabbed his arm.

“Don’t—wait—don’t open it—”

But he was calm. Too calm. Like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“Stay with the baby.”

“No—”

Too late.

He opened the door.

⸻

Ji-won was standing in the rain.

Behind him—

Two FBI agents.

Their badges out.

Jackets soaked.

Guns visible.

Outside, headlights cut through the dark.

Several cars.

People moving behind trees.

Voices on radios.

It wasn’t just a knock.

It was a raid.

⸻

You stepped into the hallway, barefoot.

And time slowed.

You saw Ji-won’s face.

Guilt. Regret.

And something like mourning.

One agent stepped forward, raising his voice:

“Geum Seong-je—hands on your head. Get on the floor. Now!”

You couldn’t process it.

“W-what? What’s going on—?”

“We’ve been investigating the disappearance of [Y/N] for over a year now. A camper in the area saw you both near the river. We confirmed the identity. We know you’re here. Sir—on the ground. Now.”

Your world cracked like glass.

The baby monitor screeched from the table.

Your daughter crying, wailing in the other room.

“No—no—no!”

You ran forward, but one of them grabbed you—holding you back gently but firmly.

“Ma’am—step aside—”

“Don’t touch him! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

But Seong-je just looked at you.

Not afraid.

Just heartbroken.

⸻

He lowered himself slowly to the floor.

Hands on his head.

The agents surrounded him.

Cuffed him.

One read him his rights, voice drowned out by your screaming.

“Don’t take him!—please—PLEASE!—don’t take him away!—”

You were shaking, clawing to get to him.

The rain poured harder.

Your feet slipped in the mud.

Seong-je looked over his shoulder as they pulled him to the truck.

And he smiled.

Just a little.

Like it was the only thing he had left to give you.

“You’re safe now,” he mouthed.

“I love you.”

⸻

You ran after them.

Screaming.

Begging.

Your body against the side of the truck as they shoved him in.

“I love him! You don’t understand—HE SAVED ME! Please—please—just let me talk to him—let me touch him—just ONE MORE TIME—!” You screamed as the cops held you back.

But the engine roared.

The door slammed.

And Seong-je disappeared behind steel and glass and red lights.

You stood in the driveway.

Soaked.

Bleeding from your knees.

And screamed.

“BRING HIM BACK—”

“PLEASE BRING HIM BACK—”

⸻

The FBI tried to talk to you.

One woman crouched down, jacket shielding your body from the rain.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical—?”

You shoved her away.

“I’m not okay! I’m never going to be okay again.”

And you collapsed.

Right there in the mud.

Hands in your hair.

Eyes toward the empty road where they’d taken your husband.

⸻

Your baby’s cries still echoed from inside the house.

The monitor was still glowing.

And your chest caved in as you whispered to no one:

“She won’t even remember his face…”

——-

Bare with me here…univerisity setting kang wooyoung x reader having a friends with benefits relationship but surprise reader catches feelings she decides to ignore until one day she learns there are rumors going around campus about wooyoung having multiple girls he sleeps with so she decides to break it off bc maybe they agreed to not sleep around while they have their lil deal going on? And that leaves wooyoung confused bc he doesn’t know what he did wrong until he finds out about the rumors and confronts the reader bc he also caught feelings and he’s like let me put an end to any rumors and since we know he likes to make lil videos this time he keeps the camera rolling while they do their thing but out of respect for the reader and also not wanting people to see what’s his the video doesn’t show much but records the sound of what’s going on for everyone on the campus to shut up with their silly rumors 👀

Ok ngl this was kinda confusing (but that’s ok!!!) so I hope you like this😘

“Rumors & Recordings”

Pairing: Kang Wooyoung x fem!Reader

⸻

You should’ve known this was a bad idea from the beginning.

Friends-with-benefits rarely stayed just that. Not when the lines blurred so easily — in the way Wooyoung would stroke your hair after, or pull you close as if he hated the idea of you leaving his bed. Not when his texts came in at midnight just to say “missed you,” like you were anything more than a body in his sheets.

But you had rules.

And you were foolish enough to believe he’d follow them.

So when whispers started floating around campus — about Wooyoung and a girl from his stats class, then another from his gym club — you told yourself they were just that. Whispers. Cruel rumors. Until your friend accidentally let it slip:

“I thought you and Wooyoung had, like… an open thing? He’s kind of all over the place.”

That was it. The crack that split everything open.

Because no matter what you told yourself — that this wasn’t real, that you weren’t allowed to care — it still hurt. Maybe more than it should have.

You didn’t cry when you ended things. Just gave him a quiet, “We’re done,” before walking out of his dorm.

Wooyoung didn’t chase you. Not at first. Just stared after you, jaw tight, eyes sharp like he was trying to figure out a puzzle he didn’t know he’d been handed.

⸻

Three Days Later

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, cornering you outside the library like it’s nothing. Like you didn’t just shatter whatever fragile thing you had.

“I’m not.” Lie. “We’re not anything anymore. I’m just giving us space.”

Wooyoung frowns. “You ended it out of nowhere.”

“Did I?” Your voice is cold now. Sharper than you want it to be. “Thought maybe you were too busy with your other hookups.”

He goes still. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Woo. People talk. They say you’ve been with half the girls in our year. What, did you forget we said no one else while we were—”

His hand shoots up. Not in anger — in frustration. “I haven’t touched anyone but you.”

You blink. “The rumors—”

“Are bullshit.”

Something in his voice stops you. There’s none of his usual cocky charm, no teasing glint in his eyes. He looks… tired. Hurt, even.

“I wouldn’t break the one rule we had,” he says. “You think I’d risk losing this? You?”

You look away.

“I caught feelings too, Y/N.”

It crashes into you like a wave — the admission, the weight of everything unspoken between you.

But he’s not done.

“Let me fix this,” he murmurs. “Let me make sure they know who I’m with. Who I want.”

⸻

That Night

It’s familiar, the way his hands explore your body like they already know every scar, every freckle. But there’s a different energy now — something raw, something laced with emotion neither of you want to name out loud.

You notice the camera first.

Perched silently on his desk. The red light blinking.

“Wooyoung—”

“It’s not for anyone’s eyes,” he says quickly, seeing the look on your face. “Just the audio.”

You freeze.

“I want them to hear what real sounds like,” he says, voice husky. “Let them talk. Let them wonder. But they won’t have a single doubt who I’m with.”

It’s crazy. Messy. Petty.

But you understand it. The need to take back the narrative. The need to show the world that you’re not some secret. That you matter.

So you let him.

The camera rolls, but only the sound of tangled sheets, whispered names, soft gasps, and the distinct, unmistakable rhythm of passion fill the air.

He kisses your collarbone and whispers against your skin, “Only you. Always you.”

And when the audio clip somehow finds its way into the group chat of a certain gossip-prone student society — cropped, tasteful, and full of unmistakable truth — the rumors stop.

Just like that.

⸻

Days Later

You’re walking across campus when a girl smirks and says, “Guess we were wrong about Wooyoung.”

You don’t answer. Just smile — a private, satisfied curve of your lips — and disappear into the arms of the boy waiting by the quad.

He kisses your forehead in front of everyone.

Let them talk.

This time, the story’s yours.

Geum seong je x reader headcanons!!

Obsession Disguised as Protection

• He tells you he’s “just keeping you safe,” but it’s really about control. You’re not allowed to walk home alone. Your location is always known.

• He doesn’t trust anyone else with you — even your friends. He’ll start isolating you, gently at first. Then, not so gently.

• If someone touches you — even accidentally — he notices. And that person will feel it, later. Quietly. Violently.

Emotional Withholding & Power Games

• He’s not affectionate in public. Not out of shame — but control. You’re his. That’s enough.

• When you fight, he shuts down. Ice-cold silence. You’ll beg for a reaction, and he’ll stare at you with that deadpan expression that makes your heart drop.

• But later, he’ll show up outside your door, bruised from a fight, and press his forehead to yours like nothing happened.

Violent Loyalty

• The only way he knows how to love is through violence. If someone hurts you — even emotionally — he will retaliate.

• He doesn’t understand emotional boundaries. If you cry, he gets angry. Not at you — at the world. At whoever made you feel like that.

• He has no limits when it comes to revenge. People disappear. Rumors start. You stop asking questions.

He Watches, Always

• He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing. He already knows. His reach in the streets makes sure of that.

• Sometimes he’ll be standing outside your class, not saying a word. Just watching. People start whispering. You don’t know if you’re flattered or terrified.

• He reads your texts when you leave your phone unattended. Not because he doubts you. Because he needs to know.

His Softness is Conditional

• He shows affection when you’re broken — when you’re crying in the dark or trembling after a confrontation. That’s when he becomes gentle. That’s when his voice drops low, and he brushes hair from your face like you’re something fragile.

• But if you act too independent, too distant? He withdraws immediately. Gives you the cold shoulder until you come crawling back. He needs to feel needed.

Your Pain Grounds HiM

• He doesn’t flinch at your anger. But your tears? That kills him — because he knows he causes them, and yet he still wants to keep you close.

• He once held you after a breakdown and whispered: “No one’s allowed to hurt you. Not even me.” But he already had.

Codependence as Romance

• He tells you, “You don’t need anyone but me.” Over and over — until you believe it. Until it’s true.

• You can’t tell if you’re in love or if you’ve been caged. But some twisted part of you doesn’t want to escape.

• He’d burn the world down for you — but he’d burn you too, just to keep you his.

BONUS IMAGINES!

Even if he has a cold demeanor he would give In to your hugs and kisses and if you asked he’d cuddle you to sleep.

He loves seeing you wrap your arms around him if it means you will sleep feeling safe.

If it ever seems he’s not listening to you when he’s on his while your telling him all your school problems or girl drama. He’s most likely writing down names so he knows who he can’t trust around you.

Arguments end the same sometimes with him. He’s yelling at you. He leaves y’all’s apartment.he comes back with silent treatment, so your the one having to say sorry. Then y’all end up cuddling on the couch watching tv

Bro he’s so fucking fine😫😫😫he’s my new obsession for the month bro

(Every time I listen to this song all I think abt is him. He legit owns this song 🤧)

——

“To Be Loved by a Monster”

Pairing: Seo Moon Jo x fem!reader

Genre: Psychological Thriller | Dark Romance | Canon-Compliant

⸻

You should’ve moved out the second the landlord smiled at you with one too many teeth.

You should’ve trusted your instincts when you heard footsteps in the hall at 3 a.m., pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

But you stayed.

Because your rent was cheap.

Because your boss didn’t care where you lived.

Because the man in room 302 smiled at you like he knew something you didn’t — and somehow, that made you feel less alone.

⸻

Seo Moon Jo was never just a dentist.

He moved like he owned the world — or at least the walls of this rotten place. And when he first knocked on your door with a cup of tea and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, you told yourself it was just kindness.

“You’re new,” he said, voice soft like silk hiding a blade. “Welcome to Eden.”

You shouldn’t have let him in.

But his voice had a lull to it. A pull.

And you were so, so tired of being invisible.

⸻

He never asked too many questions. Never needed to.

You found yourself talking anyway — about your job, your loneliness, the way Seoul could swallow people whole and no one would notice.

He listened.

And when you told him your ex had been stalking you, Moon Jo’s gaze darkened just enough to stir something cold in your chest.

“People like that,” he said gently, brushing your hair from your face, “should disappear.”

You laughed nervously.

But he didn’t.

⸻

The next week, your ex stopped texting.

His number disconnected.

And Moon Jo started visiting you more often.

⸻

It wasn’t love. Not really. Not at first.

It was obsession disguised as attention. Possession wrapped in compliments. He brought you food when you forgot to eat. Walked you to your door after late shifts. Touched your wrist lightly as he passed by — like he was reminding you that he was always near.

“You don’t belong with the rest of them,” he whispered once, eyes glinting in the dim hallway light. “They’d ruin you. I won’t.”

You didn’t ask what he meant.

Some part of you was afraid of the answer.

⸻

Then one night, you opened your door and saw blood.

A smear on the floor. A trail leading down the corridor.

You froze.

And just like that — like he’d been waiting for you to see — Moon Jo appeared behind you.

“Don’t look at that,” he said quietly, curling a hand around your shoulder and turning you away. “Come inside.”

You should’ve run.

Instead, you let him close the door behind you.

⸻

Later, in the dark of your room…

He sat beside you on the floor. His shirt was clean now. His hands too. You were shaking.

But he wasn’t.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you whispered, staring at the carpet.

His silence was the answer.

“You kill people.”

Another beat.

Then:

“Only the ones who deserve it.”

You turned to him then, eyes burning. “And what about me? What do I deserve?”

His gaze softened — in that strange, terrifying way he had — like you were something delicate.

“Everything.”

“Love. Safety. Someone who’d burn the world just to keep you breathing.”

He reached out slowly, brushing your cheek with knuckles too steady for someone who’d just taken a life.

“And if the world can’t give you that…” His smile was faint. “Then I will.”

⸻

You didn’t leave.

Maybe you were just as broken.

Maybe he’d already sunk his claws too deep.

Or maybe — worst of all — part of you liked being needed by someone so terrifyingly devoted.

So you let him hold you.

Let him kiss your hair.

Let him whisper things you’d once been too sane to believe.

“You’re mine now.”

And the scariest part?

You didn’t argue.

“Just You, Just Me”

Geum Seong-je x fem!Reader

Smut | Soft possessive | Explicit

*They had a first round and he goes back for another*

⸻

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breaths evening out, skin still slick with heat, your bodies tangled under the sheets.

Seong-je lay on his side, one arm draped across your stomach, his fingers tracing lazy circles just above your navel. His lips brushed your shoulder — light, like he was barely touching you.

You thought he’d fall asleep like that. But then—

His voice, rough, low:

“You’re too good for me.”

You blinked at the ceiling, heart slowing but full. “What?”

He didn’t answer with words. Just shifted closer. His mouth found your jaw, then your throat, tracing the edge of it with deliberate slowness. You felt his breath fan across your skin as he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”

Your body reacted instantly — heat pooling low, thighs pressing together beneath the sheets. He pulled the blanket down just enough to expose your chest, his eyes darkening at the sight of you bare beneath him again.

His voice dipped, rough with that edge only you got to hear.

“I want to take my time this time.”

His lips found your breast, tongue flicking over your nipple before he sucked — slow, teasing. One hand slid between your thighs, already finding you soft and wet again.

“Still so ready for me,” he murmured with a smirk, kissing lower now, down your stomach, until he was between your legs.

“Seong-je—” your voice broke as his tongue dragged up your center, gentle at first, then deeper, more focused. One arm slid under your thigh to pull you closer to his mouth.

He moaned softly against you. “Taste so good. Could stay here forever.”

Your hands tangled in his hair as your hips bucked, but he held you steady, savoring you, taking his time. His tongue moved slow but confident, lips wrapping around your clit just right — until you were trembling, back arching, eyes fluttering shut.

When he finally pulled back, he licked his lips like he was addicted.

He moved up your body, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re shaking.”

You nodded, breathless. “You’re unreal.”

He chuckled, low and satisfied. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

This time, he slid into you slowly — deep, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every second. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, anchoring him closer.

He kissed you through it, lips slow and open-mouthed, swallowing every gasp, every moan.

His thrusts were smoother now — not rough, but deep. Intimate. You could feel every inch of him, and it made your head spin.

He held your face in one hand as he rocked into you, watching your expression, whispering, “Look at me… I want to see you fall apart.”

You tried to look away, but he caught your jaw gently.

“No hiding. Not with me.”

And you didn’t. You gave him everything — every breathless cry, every broken moan, every pulse of your body around him as you spiraled over the edge a second time, tighter, hotter, deeper than the first.

He followed fast after, with a low, guttural groan, hips stilling deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours as he let himself go.

You lay there, breath tangled in his, hearts thudding together in the dark.

His thumb stroked your cheek, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Only you do this to me.”

You smiled, exhausted but full. “Good.”

He chuckled, brushing your hair back.

“You gonna survive round three later?” he teased.

You narrowed your eyes, barely holding back a grin. “Only if you keep looking at me like that.”

He leaned in, kissed your nose.

“Oh, I will.”

“The Way He Stays”

You sat on the steps of the old gym, chin tucked into your knees, shivering beneath your school jacket. Everyone had gone home hours ago. You hadn’t. Couldn’t.

There were too many voices in your head, and none of them were kind.

Then, like a ghost conjured from the fog, he was there. Geum Seong-je. His hair damp, hands buried in his pockets, the collar of his uniform sharp against his throat.

He didn’t ask what was wrong.

He never did.

Instead, he sat beside you — not touching, but close enough that your shoulders almost brushed. Close enough that his warmth bled through the space between your bodies like quiet reassurance.

“Did you eat?” he asked after a while.

You shook your head.

He clicked his tongue, pulled out a crumpled bag of snacks from his pocket, and shoved it toward you.

You didn’t take it.

He didn’t care. He opened the bag, pulled out a piece, and held it to your lips. His fingers hovered, waiting. Not forceful, just patient.

You opened your mouth.

“You always do this,” you said between bites.

“What?”

“Show up. Stay.”

He didn’t answer. But he turned his face slightly toward you, rain dripping from his lashes, and in the curve of his mouth there was something unspoken — something you’d never seen him give to anyone else.

“You scare people,” you whispered. “But not me.”

“Should I?” he asked, gaze steady.

“No.”

You reached for his hand. He let you. His fingers were rough, cold — but they closed around yours with surprising gentleness.

“You make it hard to breathe,” you admitted, “but I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

A beat passed.

Then: “You think I don’t feel it too?”

His voice was quiet. Uncertain, for once.

You looked up. His eyes — guarded, always — had softened. Just for you. Only for you.

And when he leaned in, his kiss wasn’t desperate. It was slow. Careful. Like he was afraid you might vanish.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him back.

Because no one had ever stayed the way he did. Silent. Solid. Unshakable. And in his broken, bruised way, Geum Seong-je loved you more fiercely than anyone else ever could.

No one knew.

Not your friends. Not his crew. Not even na baek Jin, and he knew everything about everyone.

You were Geum Seong-je’s secret — and somehow, that made you feel more important, not less. He didn’t hide you out of shame. He hid you because he was possessive. Because the world didn’t deserve to look at you the way he did.

“Someone’s gonna see,” you whispered.

“Let them,” he said, voice low. “I’ll break their jaw.”

You laughed, soft against his skin. “You can’t fight everyone.”

“Yes I can.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” His hand slid up your back, fingers grazing bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. “But you keep crawling back.”

“Because I’m just as bad as you,” you said, grinning.

But then the grin faded — because you saw it. That flicker in his eyes. The one that only showed when he was afraid of losing you, even if he’d never say it out loud.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t speak. Just pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in like he needed you to survive.

There was so much he never said — but he didn’t have to.

It was in the way he’d always stand behind you without a word, always watching, always ready. The way his hands only ever shook when they touched your skin. The way he kissed you like it hurt — like loving you scared the hell out of him.

You brushed your lips against his. He kissed you back slowly, fingers gripping your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, barely audible.

“I know.”

“And I’m yours,” he added, like a confession.

Your chest tightened.

This boy — this violent, guarded, impossible boy — didn’t just want you. He needed you. And you needed him, in all the dangerous, destructive ways that made no sense.

But in the quiet?

He was soft.

And in secret?

He was yours.

Sup! Love your content

You shouldn't do this one if it makes you uncomfortable.

Could you do a si-eun and/ or seong je x reader where they find out about readers sh scars?

Xx

“No Need to Hide”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x fem!reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm scars, emotional vulnerability, soft Geum Seong-je

A/n: if you are going through this just know you are not alone. Coming from someone who has been in that spot it can be hard especially if you feel alone, but everything will be ok in the end just keep your head up! Just take your time and remember everything will pass. There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Luv y’all🫶🏻

⸻

The rain outside painted the windows with a steady rhythm, soft and calming. Inside the small apartment, the lights were low—just the warm glow of the lamp near the couch where you and Seong-je were tangled up together. His arm was around your waist, your head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while a random movie played on the TV neither of you were watching.

It had been a long day, and you were finally letting yourself feel safe.

You had taken off your hoodie earlier, now just in a loose tank top and shorts. You didn’t think about it when you raised your arms to stretch, your body relaxed for once.

But when you reached for the blanket beside you, Geum Seong-je’s eyes caught something he hadn’t noticed before.

Scars.

Faint but unmistakable, etched gently along the soft skin of your upper arm.

Your breath hitched when you saw him looking. You tried to pull the blanket over yourself quickly, to cover up, to hide, but his hand gently caught yours.

“Wait…” he said quietly.

Your heart pounded. You looked away, suddenly cold even in the warmth of his arms. “Don’t.”

“Y/N…” His voice was soft, so different from how he usually spoke to the world—sharp, cold, intimidating. But this wasn’t the gang leader now. This was your Seong-je.

He sat up, carefully taking your hand, fingers brushing against the faded scars like they were something delicate. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed hard. “Because it’s not something I want people to see. It’s ugly.”

His jaw tensed, eyes flicking up to yours. “Don’t say that.”

You gave a hollow laugh. “Well, it’s the truth.”

But then he did something that made your chest tighten—he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your arm. Right over one of the old scars.

“You lived through it. That makes it anything but ugly,” he said. “You’re still here.”

You blinked quickly, eyes stinging.

He held your face in his hands then, looking into you like he could read every part of you. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not ever.”

“I didn’t want you to think less of me,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper.

“I think more of you,” he said without hesitation. “A lot more. You went through something and you’re still standing. Still laughing. Still loving. That’s strength, not weakness.”

You bit your lip, the tears falling now—slow but real.

Seong-je pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly, protectively. His voice was lower now, soft against your hair. “Next time you feel like hiding… come to me instead. I’ll hold it with you. The weight, the pain, all of it.”

You nodded into his chest, unable to speak, just clutching onto him like he was the only solid thing in the world—and right now, he was.

He stayed like that with you for a long time, whispering soft things, reminding you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

——-

The rain outside was still falling in slow waves, casting soft shadows through the window. Geum Seong-je had his arms around you, and you stayed tucked into him for what felt like forever—safe, warm, and finally breathing without the weight of shame pressing down on your chest.

Eventually, he leaned back a little, his hand still holding yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and grounding.

“You hungry?” he asked, voice low. “I can make you something. Or order from that place you like.”

You shook your head with a small smile. “I just… wanna stay like this. With you.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a second, and then gave a quiet, almost shy smile. The kind of smile not many got to see from him.

“Then we stay like this,” he said simply.

You both shifted to lie back on the couch, your head now resting on his chest while one of his hands played with your hair and the other wrapped securely around your waist. It was quiet, but the kind of quiet that felt good—like healing.

“You know…” you said after a moment, your voice soft against his shirt, “I used to think no one would ever love me if they saw all of me. The broken pieces. The dark parts.”

Geum Seong-je didn’t answer right away. He just ran his fingers slowly down your back and whispered, “Then they didn’t deserve you.”

You lifted your head to look at him. His eyes were already on you—serious, soft, filled with something deeper than just affection. Something like devotion.

“You’re not broken,” he continued. “You’re just… still healing. That’s different. And I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You mean that?”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

You were quiet for a second, overwhelmed by how gentle he was being with you—this boy who so many feared, who had blood on his knuckles and scars of his own, was handling you like glass but never treating you like you were weak.

“I’m scared sometimes,” you admitted.

“So am I,” he said. “But I’m not scared of us.”

That broke something open in you. You leaned forward and kissed him—soft, slow, your hand resting against his cheek. He kissed you back with the same tenderness, like this moment was something sacred.

When you pulled back, he looked at you with so much warmth, his forehead resting against yours.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered. “Not for anything else. Just to hold you properly.”

You nodded.

In his room, the sheets were warm from the dryer. You slid under the covers, and he pulled you into his chest, wrapping himself around you like he never wanted you to leave.

You rested your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat again.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Part 3 - Cherry Coke & Cigarettes

———

Part 3 is finally here!!!! Hope yall enjoyyyyyy

——

Geum Seong-je x Fem!Reader — Soft, Vulnerable, Relationship Begins

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet for Geum Seong-je. He always preferred noise — the kind that distracted him from whatever was going on in his own head. But now, after the party, after the jealousy, after the silence on the way back…

You were still here.

Sitting on the edge of his bed in his hoodie, legs tucked under you, watching him with that cautious, thoughtful look — like you weren’t scared of him, but could be if you wanted to. You just… weren’t.

“You’re really staying?” he asked suddenly, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

You looked up. “You told me to.”

“I tell a lot of people things. Doesn’t mean they listen.”

You smiled, small and quiet. “I’m not a lot of people.”

He stared at you for a long moment.

“You’re not.”

A pause. You looked down at your hands in your lap. “You didn’t mean to scare me, did you?”

His eyes lowered.

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t like feeling that way. Jealous.”

“Because it makes you lose control?”

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

You stood slowly, walking toward him. You stopped just short of touching him.

“Then let’s try something else.”

He looked at you.

“Let’s get to know each other. Like… actually,” you said. “Without fighting. Without games. Just—us.”

Seong-je hesitated, as if the idea was harder to accept than it should be. Slowly, he nodded.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he muttered.

“Okay. Then I’ll go first.”

You held up a finger. “One fact about me: I used to doodle cartoons in all my notebooks. My teachers hated it.”

That drew the smallest smile out of him.

“You?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I hate mornings. Always have.”

You tilted your head. “Because of school?”

“Because of my life.”

He looked at you then, really looked — and something about your expression, calm and unflinching, made the edge in his shoulders loosen.

“You’re not scared of what I’ll say, are you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you’ve ever had someone just listen. Not without judging you.”

He was quiet.

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” you said. “I care about who you are when no one’s watching.”

His throat tightened at that.

Another silence passed, but it felt warmer this time. More settled.

“…I used to take care of someone,” he said, voice low. “Back before all this. She was just a kid. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I tried.”

You nodded, gently. “You’re good at protecting people.”

“Not always.”

“You try, though.”

He blinked, then looked away like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of faith.

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his — slow, careful, like he was a storm you weren’t afraid of. And when he didn’t pull away, your chest eased.

“I want this,” you said. “Whatever it looks like, however long it takes.”

He squeezed your hand once.

“Only if it’s you,” he replied quietly.

⸻

Later that night…

He let you lay your head on his shoulder while the TV played quietly in the background. He didn’t move much, just played with the hem of your sleeve, glancing down at you every few minutes like he was still trying to figure out if you were real.

You were the calm in all his chaos.

And for once… he didn’t want to push you away.

Guys I don’t know what got write. I haven’t written in almost a week!!!!😫😫😫