syn. you were a different kind of high, one seongje couldn't let go of — after breaking a promise, he's desperate to have you in his arms again.
an. oooh boy geum seongje AGAIN!! get a grip user tojivu!!!!!!! i love the idea of soft seongje gosh this might be ooc sorry
cw. seongje's an asshole trying to change comfort cussing fem reader sfw
playing. love me like you do by ellie goulding
you from last year would've never imagined this: perhaps this situation was far too outlandish to even predict to begin with.
it's 2 in the morning. your phone's blowing up and your do not disturb is (strangely) letting seongje's calls pass through — you swore you blocked that asshole weeks ago. college entrance exams were near and you weren't trying to fuck things up again: get shit all messy because you chose to be involved with geum seongje from ganghak.
you were perfect before him. he liked to joke that he ruined you, all for himself — and regrettably, you believed him. it was mostly true, anyway.
you groan in annoyance, tossing and turning in your bed while your phone vibrated. you could switch it off, but something about seongje being desperate to reach you makes something swell inside.
i'll let it ring for five more times, you think. he definitely won't call again.
oh, but he does. it's seven rings now, and you roll your eyes before bringing the phone to your ear. for some reason it's heavier, so you close your eyes to prepare for whatever nonsense he's about to spew.
"[name]," seongje's voice is low, tired. breathless like he just ran a mile. "why weren't you picking up, huh?"
"i'm not obligated to do anything for you, geum seongje—" you remind him. "not anymore."
it's been a hot minute since that evening you stormed out of the bowling alley — the day someone first dared to slam doors in geum seongje's face. all his brainless minions could only stare as they sat scattered around the establishment, absolutely gobsmacked at your audacity.
though, they were more shocked at the fact geum seongje ran after you. the girl he flaunted like a trophy — he ran like you mattered, even if just a little.
they knew better than to open their mouths when he came back without you, or mention your name again.
"still ignoring me?" seongje scoffs, and you can envision the stupid smirk he always wore around you — the one that made you feel small. "i didn't like how we ended things. not very nice to leave in the middle of a conversation, you know?"
the truth was you were tired of his empty promises.
'i'll try not to fight so much,' seongje whispered one night. 'can't be letting you fix me all the time.'
it was supposed to be just meaningless talk, but when your eyes met his and it lit up with hope: you asked him if he really meant it.
seongje was weak in that moment. he saw how your gaze softened, couldn't help but say he promised, and he swore he felt something change inside of him.
it's weeks later when you're looking into his eyes after he just beat up a group of guys that you remember seongje doesn't change for anyone — at least not fully — until there's a reason to.
"you're full of shit, seongje." your words cut deeper than anything anyone's ever said to him. it's still the same phrase he's heard from many others —but for some odd reason, seongje's unhappy hearing it from you.
you're not sure if he'll send a bunch of guys to escort you to the alley like he did weeks ago, or maybe drag you out of class himself like a few months back. you remember that clearly — that's when all the girls in your grade started to whisper your name, give you dirty looks; you're still not sure if it was out of envy or pity.
what's she doing with geum seongje? why pick her instead of x? what's so special about [name], anyway? is she crazy?
you don't care what he does anymore. you'll lock yourself in if you have to. move neighbourhoods. you're sure the union won't be able to reach you then.
"just miss. . . seeing your face around here."
you can tell he's smoking by the pauses he takes. you remember yelling at him for lighting one in your house — he joked that your parents loved him too much to make a fuss. you couldn't deny it then; your mother really did enjoy having him around after school. she'd always prepare extra for dinner in case seongje would step through that door with you.
you remember how her face dropped when you told her to stop doing that. it broke your heart, just a little — even if just for a moment, you felt like you lost something good.
"that's your own fault," you mutter. "i'm really tired, seongje. don't call me again—"
he exhales. "[name], don't be stupid, come on."
"i don't want to talk to you," you almost don't believe your own words. "i don't want to hear whatever shitty excuses you have. lose my number."
no one ever dared to tell geum seongje he was full of it, even if everyone knew he was. he was reckless, the most adrenaline addicted freak you knew — but his minions liked to tease you, saying how you had a different side of him. you always brushed it off, telling yourself they got it all wrong — that his habit of dozing off around you was just laziness, that his demands to come over only to collapse in your arms were pure convenience, given how the union kids never let him breathe at that damned internet café.
no, you never knew seongje chose that — that it was never convenience for him. he'd always get an earful from baekjin when he got back, a little tease from the union boys (which would ultimately lead to his fist in someone's face, of course), and his mood would get all sour after that.
he thought it was worth it, even if only for those brief hours. you never stopped to wonder why seongje's habits and routines felt so familiar, when in truth you’d been woven into them long enough for it all to feel like second nature. he was a funny guy — you calmed him and drove him insane all at once.
when it was just the two of you, he shut down like the world didn’t matter anymore; but the instant another man so much as glanced your way, he came alive, teeth baring and ready to bite his head off. it didn't matter if it was some old creep from the corner store who knew how to hit or some teenage kid who couldn't land a punch — everyone was worthy of a lesson from him if you were the subject.
the fight a few weeks ago wasn't something you thought you'd do. you figured seongje would leave you alone after some time, find some new plaything after you chose to distance yourself; it's safe to say he was relentless, desperate, almost — borderline kidnapping you just so he could see your face — then, you snapped.
"i don't get you, seongje."
"what is it now, [name]?" he's hissing, eyebrows furrowed and tone making your heart sink. "aren't you sick of complaining? i brought you here to have a good time, you know—"
"why can't you just be serious, for once in your life?" you're wiping your tears away, backpack slung over one shoulder from being hurriedly dragged to the alley again. "you ruined me for everyone else, and you can't even be responsible for that?"
"what the fuck are you talking about?"
"what are we, seongje?" you speak between broken sobs, wiping your tears on the sleeve of your jacket. it's the one seongje bought for you on valentines day, an obnoxious red colour with tiny cherries embroidered into the fabric. "do you love me or love having me?"
seongje's lighting up a cigarette, left hand protecting the flame of his lighter from extinguishing. he looks at you like you're insane. "you're talking a lot of shit right now, [name]. watch your fucking mouth, yeah?"
"thanks for telling me what our promise meant to you, asshole."
the call goes quiet for close to ten seconds before seongje speaks again, but the sounds of cars passing by almost muffle him. "you don't mean that shit."
you're stern, wanting to stand firm on your decision.
well, you try to — but something inside you, the part that wants seongje wholly, is clawing its way out. you think if you don’t hang up within ten seconds, it’s going to escape.
your voice saying his name carries a whole different weight now. for months, all he's been used to is your cute, cheerful tone calling him out — and every so often, the softer one that breaks through when you’re crying, with only him there to hold you.
it would've gotten to you eventually: the rumours that you're not the only one to receive special attention from geum seongje. the union was powerful, and with power always came hunger. you knew — not just guessed — that he could replace you in seconds; the real mistake was fooling yourself into thinking he wouldn’t, clinging to the pathetic hope that another girl wouldn’t be ready to take your place.
he'll be fine if you're gone. snap of his fingers, and there'll be a new face by his side — that's what you tell yourself to justify running away from the only thing you crave.
there were occasions that geum seongje would stop by your home, bloodied and battered — you've always been the one to patch him up in the rare case. you'd feel his body relax under your touch, a different side of him manifesting: the permanent state of tension his muscles were once in, finally relaxing as you meticulously cleaned his wounds.
it's a silent submission from him.
he doesn't speak, doesn't cry. doesn't hiss when you wipe alcohol over his cuts. no winces or jaw tensing from the pain. when you occasionally glance up at him, his eyes are closed, and for a brief moment — he rests.
the words are as raw and real as the evenings you spent — as bloody as his wounds, as soft as his breaths in your ear. It’s vulnerability in its purest form.
you tense. you're sure your blood pressure has increased tenfold with the way you feel your heart pounding against your ribcage: they're words you would never imagine geum seongje uttering.
"i'm scared of who i am with you."
you feel your throat form a lump. you can barely speak now with how your body refuses to let your mouth open.
"i'm fucking thinking about everything with you," seongje's desperate to explain himself, afraid of the very real possibility of you hanging up the phone. just like that, you'd be gone.
"i think about what you're doing, where you're going when you say you're too busy to come see me, shit — i even think about what you're wearing."
you're speechless. you've never heard him ramble like this before, unless he was telling someone off. the last time you've seen him this upset was when he was complaining to you about baekjin's accusations.
in a perfect world, you're accepting his confession and running into his arms, but you knew nothing would ever be close to perfect with seongje.
he was crazy, impulsive, adrenaline driven — yet, somehow, you felt like time slowed itself down for the sake of you two being together, as if the universe knew how to counter seongje's nature for that very reason.
perhaps that was the whole point, the reason you loved him so dearly.
"i've tried so hard to stop being like this, ever since you came around and we made that dumb fucking promise." you can hear seongje's voice breaking, as if the words were caught in his throat. "didn't even think i'd try to keep to that shit."
your eyes wander out your window, gaze following the leaves that fall every few seconds. some of them land on your windowsill. "i never knew you felt that way."
"fucks sake, yeah — i know — you weren't supposed to," seongje sighs, and you can imagine him taking a long drag of his cigarette. "i don't do that relationship shit."
"i know," you exhale. the words come out more defeated than you intended. "i knew that."
"i can't get your face out of my head, y'know that? it's starting to mess with my mood."
the honesty pulls a smile from you. that's how you knew it was real. "the sweet talk isn't gonna work on me."
"wish i was sweet talking you right now," seongje breathes heavily, "i wanna be lying to you like you're some bitch, but i can't, and it's pissing me off."
"real romantic, huh?" you can't help but to suddenly giggle. seongje only feels his heart flutter and his head spin. he wants to tell you to shut up, but he knows better.
"let me in, [name]. please."
the way he says it sets your body on fire. you feel as if all logic left your brain through your left ear: you instinctively bring your hand to cover the intense flush on your face, even though you know no one's watching.
"let you in?" you try to change the topic. "are you outside my fucking building?"
he's quiet again. "i know your door code. can't say no."
"so what if i fucking did?"
you want to laugh, and you almost do. you've let your walls down — a feat only geum seongje could conquer.
". . . then why ask me to let you in?"
"just. . . wanna give you some respect," and you can practically envision seongje's stupid smirk as he says those words. "isn't this good progress?"
you want to slap yourself for giving in to geum seongje once again. but god, who would you be lying to if you said you didn't need him too?
"keep it up and i might just give you a sticker, seongje."
"you don't have to be a bitch about it, damn."
seongje hangs up. you pull your phone away from your face, confusion taking over your expression — it takes roughly a minute before you hear your door unlocking, your digital door lock humming a familiar tune.
the boy stands in front of your door with messy, unkempt hair and the brightest orange windbreaker you've ever seen. he's panting as if he couldn't wait for the elevator, the door closing slowly behind him and automatically locking itself.
you fold your arms across your chest. "promise me you'll be serious."
"i only take girlfriends serious," seongje's taunting smirk only grows and you wish you could punch hard enough to wipe it off his stupidly handsome face; knowing seongje, he'd catch your fist mid-way.
nevertheless, you still bite back. "i thought you didn't do relationships."
"i do you," he tilts his head ever so slightly, looking at you with a mix of amusement and adoration. "that's harder than a relationship, in my opinion."
"i only let boyfriends in my house, then," you shrug. "get the fuck out."
and there's that stupid gummy smile that makes your knees weak. most people find seongje to look psychotic when he does that — yet, when you glance at his red ears and flustered cheeks, you find your heart rate disagreeing.
"well. . . we can both make a few changes, can't we?" seongje's taking off his new balances and you're all too familiar with the way his hands reach out to hold you closer. "can't let this go again."
you melt embarrassingly fast, just enough to steady yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck.
indeed, this situation was far too unbelievable to predict: the universe where geum seongje's yours and you are his — it's the one you're standing in right now.
your head rests against his chest before you ask again: "what are we, seongje?"
"you're mine," seongje whispers, as if he doesn't want the world to hear him in case it decides to fuck this over. he would never forgive himself. "always have been, but someone's quite serious about labels—"
your hand lands a weak smack into his upper back. "i'm beating you up one day."
"ooh, fierce one," and seongje's arms presses your body impossibly closer to his. "just my type."
you don't give him the rush of a fight, nor the thrill of seeing blood pooling on the floor — you give seongje a quiet safety: something he didn't think he needed.
you roll your eyes. "shut up, you freak."
it's when he realises his heart rate is slowing and his weight is instinctively shifting onto you, that he knows he'll never let this — you — go.
im sorru yhis is not mt best work. i love soft seongje i want to cry st the thought of him resting peacefully.
please reblog if u enjoyed -> helps keep interaction and it'll motivate me to write more :-) ILYALL
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