Miguel As Billy Loomis

Ghost of the strongest

Illustration for Cup rune over by amazing surveycorpsjean on ao3 <3

If you haven't read this story yet... What are you waiting for, GO READ IT NOW

"I'd break bones to keep you safe"

Felix x ex-military! male! Bodyguard! reader

Part three!

Summary: Being a famous idol came with its own risks and threats.. Which is why Chan hired a bodyguard with experience. And a certain someone falls for the protective man.

Warnings: None

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺       ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺  . ✦

The cold concrete floor was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark. The weight of the support beams, the searing pain in your arm and shoulder, and the deafening roar of the crowd above—it all blurred into a haze of exhaustion and agony.

When you came to, the world was a blur of fluorescent lights and muffled voices. The steady beep of a heart monitor punctuated the silence. You blinked slowly, your body heavy and unresponsive, as the sterile smell of antiseptic filled your nose.

The hospital room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the hum of machines. Sterile white walls surrounded you, and the faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air. Your body felt heavy, weighed down by pain and exhaustion. Your shoulder and arm were immobilized in a sling, your ribs tightly wrapped in bandages. The fractured collarbone and bruised ribs made every breath a struggle, while the deep gash on your forearm throbbed beneath layers of stitches.

Between each visit, you were left alone with your thoughts. The silence was deafening, amplifying the turmoil inside you.

 You replayed the moment under the stage—the creaking beams, the crushing weight, the sharp pain—and wondered if you could’ve done more to prevent it. You thought about how close you’d come to failing, to letting Chan’s platform collapse, to letting them down.

The guilt gnawed at you. You had protected them this time, but what about next time? What if you weren’t there? What if you weren’t strong enough?

Still, as each member entered the room, you pushed those thoughts aside. They needed comfort as much as you did.

Chan entered first, his footsteps hesitant as though he was afraid of disturbing you. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He sat down beside your bed without saying a word at first, his hand gripping yours tightly.

“You shouldn’t have done it alone,” he said finally, his voice low but firm.

You smiled weakly and reached out with your good arm to pull him into a one-armed hug. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” you replied softly.

His jaw tightened as he looked away, his knuckles white from how hard he was holding your hand.

“You always put yourself on the line for us,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “But what happens if one day we lose you?”

You squeezed his hand gently. “You won’t,” you assured him.

His lips quivered as he fought back tears. “Promise me,” he whispered.

“I promise,” you said softly.

When his tears began to fall, you gently wiped them away with your free hand. He stayed for a while longer before reluctantly leaving with one last squeeze of your hand and a quiet promise: “Rest up. We need you.”

Minho entered next with his usual stoic expression, though it didn’t hide the worry in his eyes. He stood at the foot of your bed for a moment before pulling up a chair and sitting down.

“You’re an idiot,” he said bluntly, his tone sharp but trembling slightly.

You chuckled weakly despite the pain it caused. “Thanks.”

Minho shook his head and leaned forward slightly. 

“You scared all of us,” he admitted quietly. “We thought… we thought we lost you.”

You reached out with your good hand and gently grasped his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m still here,” you replied softly.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded quickly, blinking back tears before they could fall.

“Don’t do that again,” he muttered before standing up abruptly and leaving with a stiff nod.

Changbin burst into the room with an exaggerated sigh, trying to mask his worry with forced cheerfulness. He plopped into the chair beside your bed and crossed his arms dramatically.

“You’re really something else,” he said with mock frustration. “Always trying to be the hero.”

“Someone has to keep you guys out of trouble,” you teased weakly.

His grin faltered as his shoulders slumped slightly. “I hate seeing you like this,” he admitted quietly. “You’re always so strong… it’s hard seeing you hurt.”

You wrapped your good arm around him in a gentle hug. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him despite the pain radiating through your body.

Changbin stayed longer than most, cracking jokes and telling stories in an effort to distract both himself and you from the weight of the situation. When he finally left, he patted your shoulder gently and said with uncharacteristic seriousness, “Get better soon.”

Hyunjin hesitated at the door before walking in slowly, his usual confident demeanor replaced with visible anxiety. He sat down beside your bed but avoided meeting your gaze at first.

“I… I didn’t know if I should come in,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled softly and reached out to gently grasp his hand. “You should,” you replied softly.

Hyunjin’s lips trembled as he looked at you properly for the first time. “When I saw you collapse… I thought…” He trailed off, swallowing hard as tears welled up in his eyes.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’m still here,” you said weakly.

Hyunjin nodded quickly, wiping at his face with his sleeve before anger flashed across his features.

“You shouldn’t have had to do that alone,” he said bitterly. “We should’ve noticed something was wrong sooner.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you assured him gently as you wiped away his tears with your free hand.

He stayed for a while longer before leaving with one last glance over his shoulder: “Thank you—for everything.”

Han burst into the room with tears already streaming down his face despite clearly trying to hold them back. His sobs were loud enough that a nurse peeked in briefly before leaving him be.

“Why do you always have to push yourself so hard?” he demanded through choked sobs as he stood at the foot of your bed.

You reached out with your good hand and gently grasped his hand, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Because someone has to,” you replied softly.

Han wiped at his face furiously but couldn’t stop crying as he sat down beside you. “You scared me so much,” he admitted shakily. “I thought we were going to lose you.”

You gently wiped away his tears with your free hand and whispered: “I’m not going anywhere.”

Han stayed until a nurse came in to check on you before reluctantly leaving after making sure everything was fine.

Felix entered carrying a small bouquet of flowers that looked slightly wilted from being clutched too tightly. His usual bright smile was nowhere to be seen; instead, his lips quivered as he sat down beside you.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he said shakily.

“Takes one to know one,” you replied weakly with a faint smile.

Felix’s eyes filled with tears as he reached out to hold your hand gently. “Don’t ever scare us like that again,” he whispered fiercely. “Promise me.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly and wiped away his tears when they began falling freely down his cheeks: "I'll try."

You chatted for a bit before Felix left the room.

Seungmin entered quietly, his footsteps soft as he approached your bed. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by visible worry; his lips were pressed into a thin line, and his hands fidgeted nervously at his sides.

“You look terrible,” he said bluntly, though his voice trembled slightly.

You chuckled weakly despite the pain it caused. “Thanks for the honesty.”

Seungmin pulled up a chair and sat down beside you, his gaze fixed on your bandaged arm. “I was so scared,” he admitted softly after a moment of silence. “When I saw you collapse… I didn’t know what to do.”

You reached out with your good hand and gently grasped his, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m okay,” you said softly.

Seungmin shook his head, blinking rapidly to keep tears from falling. “You always say that,” he muttered bitterly. “But you’re not okay—you’re hurt because of us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite your exhaustion. “I did what I had to do.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I don’t know what we’d do without you,” he whispered.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied gently.

When a tear finally slipped down his cheek, you reached out with your free hand and wiped it away carefully. Seungmin stayed for a while longer, talking about how they’d all been worried sick and how they’d make sure nothing like this ever happened again. Before leaving, he squeezed your hand one last time and whispered, “Get better soon.”

Jeongin hesitated at the door for a long moment before finally stepping inside. His usual playful energy was nowhere to be seen; instead, he looked nervous and unsure as he approached your bed.

“I… I didn’t know if I should come in,” he admitted quietly.

“You should,” you said gently.

Jeongin sat down beside you but avoided meeting your gaze at first. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, and his shoulders were stiff with tension.

“It’s my fault,” he blurted suddenly, tears already streaming down his face. “If I hadn’t shown you that email… if I hadn’t panicked…”

“Stop,” you interrupted firmly despite your exhaustion. You reached out with your good hand and gently grasped his trembling hand. “None of this is your fault.”

Jeongin shook his head vehemently, guilt etched deeply into his features. “But if I hadn’t told you—”

“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” you said gently but firmly. “You told me about the threat so I could act.”

He sniffled and nodded silently but still looked unconvinced. You pulled him into a one-armed hug, letting him cry quietly against your shoulder.

“I thought we were going to lose you,” he whispered shakily.

“You won’t lose me,” you promised softly as you wiped away the tears streaking down his cheeks.

Jeongin stayed for a short while longer before reluctantly leaving with a promise that he’d work harder to protect everyone—including you.

As the member left, the silence returned—heavy and suffocating. You stared at the ceiling, replaying their words in your mind: “We thought we lost you.”, “You shouldn’t have done it alone.”, “You scared us.”

The guilt gnawed at you relentlessly. You had protected them this time, but what about next time? What if something happened while you weren’t there? What if this injury meant you couldn’t protect them anymore?

You clenched your good hand into a fist as frustration bubbled up inside you. You hated feeling helpless—hated being confined to this bed while they faced the world without you.

As visiting hours ended and each member left reluctantly, Felix returned later that night carrying a blanket tucked under one arm and a determined expression on his face.

“I’m not leaving tonight,” he announced firmly as he pulled up a chair beside your bed and draped himself in the blanket like armor against exhaustion.

“Felix…”

“No arguments.” His tone left no room for debate as he clasped your hand tightly again and settled in for what would be an unspoken vigil through the night—a silent promise that no matter what happened next, someone would be there when morning came again.

Felix talked softly about random things—funny rehearsal moments, inside jokes—but eventually fell quiet as fatigue caught up with him. He rested his head on the edge of your bed but kept holding onto your hand like it was a lifeline.

As sleep overtook him, you felt a small sense of relief wash over you—not just because someone was there but because Felix’s presence reminded you that even in moments of weakness, they would always have your back too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺       ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺  . ✦

The weeks of recovery felt endless. Every stretch in physical therapy was a battle, every movement a reminder of the beams that had crushed you. The fractured collarbone, bruised ribs, and stitched gash on your arm were constant aches that weighed on your body and mind. You couldn’t shake the guilt—the fear that next time, you might not be able to protect them.

But you pushed through. 

You forced yourself to endure the pain, knowing that they were waiting for you. Their visits kept you grounded—Felix’s overnight stays, Chan’s quiet encouragement, Han’s tearful reassurances—they reminded you why you had held on so long that night.

Finally, after weeks of effort, the sling came off, the bandages were removed, and you were cleared to return to work. Walking into their dorms for the first time since the incident felt surreal.

The smell of food hit you as soon as you stepped inside—warm and inviting, a mix of grilled meat and spices that made your stomach growl despite yourself. Laughter echoed from the kitchen, followed by the clatter of plates and utensils.

“Jagae’s here!” Felix’s voice rang out as he spotted you at the door.

Before you could respond, Hyunjin appeared from around the corner with an apron tied haphazardly over his clothes. “You’re late,” he said with mock sternness, though his grin betrayed him.

“Blame traffic,” you replied dryly as he ushered you inside.

The dining table was packed with food—kimchi stew, bulgogi, japchae, rice bowls—and everyone was bustling around setting up plates and glasses. Han was trying (and failing) to balance a stack of bowls while Jeongin hurried to grab them before they fell.

“Careful!” Seungmin scolded from across the room. “We don’t need another accident.”

“I’ve got it!” Han protested just as Jeongin snatched the bowls from his hands.

Chan stood at the head of the table, directing everyone like a conductor orchestrating a symphony. 

“Hyunjin, stop eating before we start,” he said without looking up as Hyunjin tried to sneak a piece of meat off the grill.

“I’m taste-testing!” Hyunjin argued indignantly.

“You’re stealing,” Minho corrected flatly as he carried a tray of drinks to the table.

You couldn’t help but smile at the chaos as Felix pulled out a chair for you. “Sit here,” he said brightly. “You’re the guest of honor tonight.”

“I’m not a guest,” you replied with a laugh as you took your seat.

“You are tonight,” Chan said firmly as he sat down at the head of the table. “This is for you.”

As everyone settled in and began serving themselves, the teasing started almost immediately.

“Hyunjin almost burned down the kitchen earlier,” Han said with a grin.

“I did not!” Hyunjin shot back, his cheeks flushing red. “It was just… slightly overcooked.”

“Overcooked?” Minho raised an eyebrow. “It looked like charcoal.”

Hyunjin glared at him but couldn’t suppress his laughter when Minho smirked triumphantly.

Between bites of food and bursts of laughter, subtle moments of gratitude emerged.

“It’s good to have you back,” Chan said quietly during a lull in conversation.

Changbin raised his glass dramatically. “A toast to Jagae—the human shield who saved us all!”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m invincible,” you joked lightly.

“You kind of are,” Felix said earnestly from across the table, his eyes shining with sincerity.

Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “You didn’t hesitate for even a second back there.”

Seungmin added softly from beside you, “You always put us first.”

Jeongin looked down at his plate but murmured quietly, “Thank you—for everything.”

Their words settled warmly in your chest, easing some of the lingering guilt that had haunted you since that night.

As dinner wound down and plates were cleared away, Chan brought out dessert—a simple cake decorated with strawberries—and placed it in front of you.

“It’s not much,” he said sheepishly, “but we wanted to celebrate your return properly.”

You stared at the cake for a moment before looking around at them—their smiles warm and genuine—and felt an overwhelming sense of belonging wash over you.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“No thanks needed,” Changbin replied with a grin. “You’re one of us now.”

As they began cutting slices of cake and arguing over who got the biggest piece, Felix leaned over and nudged your arm gently. “You okay?”

“I am now,” you replied honestly.

For the first time in weeks, you felt at peace—not just because your body was healing but because these eight people had become more than just idols under your protection. They were family.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺       ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺  . ✦

After dinner, the group decided to watch a horror movie together. The lights were dimmed, and the TV flickered to life, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Felix plopped down beside you on the couch, leaning comfortably against your non-injured shoulder.

“Felix, you’re going to get scared,” Han teased from across the room.

Felix grinned defiantly. “I’m not scared of anything.”

But as the movie progressed, it became clear that he was indeed scared. Every jump scare made him jump, his reactions loud and exaggerated as he clutched at your arm for comfort. The others laughed good-naturedly at his expense, but even they weren’t immune to the scares. Minho let out a startled yelp at one particularly intense scene, while Hyunjin covered his eyes during a gruesome moment.

You, however, remained calm throughout, a small smile playing on your lips as you watched the chaos unfold around you. It was almost amusing to see them all so on edge, their usual bravado replaced by nervous laughter and startled gasps.

“Jagae’s not even flinching,” Seungmin observed with a chuckle.

“Of course not,” Changbin replied dryly. “He’s the human shield. Nothing scares him.”

Felix leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not even scared, are you?”

You shook your head slightly. “Not really.”

He looked up at you with wide eyes. “How do you do it? You’re always so calm.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “Just experience, I guess.”

But deep down, you knew it was more than that. You had faced real danger, not just movie monsters. The memories of that night under the support beam still lingered, a reminder of what true fear felt like. This was just entertainment—a way for them to bond and have fun together.

“Thanks for being my rock,” he said softly.

You smiled back at him. “Anytime.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺       ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺  . ✦

The movie had ended, but Felix hadn’t moved. He was still nestled against your chest, his soft breaths steady as he slept soundly. The others were sprawled across the dorm, recovering from the adrenaline rush of jump scares and laughter. The teasing had been relentless during the movie, but now the room had settled into a calm, almost intimate atmosphere.

“Look at him,” Han whispered with a grin, gesturing toward Felix. “He’s so comfortable he fell asleep.”

“Of course he did,” Hyunjin replied, smirking. “He’s practically glued to Jagae’s side.”

“Felix has been like that for weeks now,” Seungmin added softly, his tone thoughtful. “Always sticking close to him.”

Jeongin chuckled nervously. “It’s not just because of the movie. You’ve all seen it—he’s been acting like this since… well, since forever.”

You glanced down at Felix’s peaceful face, his cheek resting lightly against your chest, and felt a pang of warmth in your chest. His presence was comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

Minho leaned back against the couch and crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “He admires you,” he said simply, but there was a weight to his words that made everyone pause.

“Admires?” Changbin raised an eyebrow and scoffed lightly. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Yeah,” Han chimed in, his grin widening mischievously. “I think it’s more than admiration.”

Hyunjin smirked but didn’t say anything, his eyes flickering between Felix and you. The silence stretched for a moment before Jeongin spoke up hesitantly.

“He really cares about you,” he said quietly. “More than just… you know… as our protector.”

Seungmin nodded in agreement. “It’s obvious when you think about it.”

You looked around at them, their expressions ranging from amused to serious. They weren’t teasing anymore—not really. There was something genuine in their words, something they had been holding back until now.

“I know,” you said softly.

The room fell silent again as the others stared at you in shock.

“You… knew?” Chan asked cautiously, leaning forward slightly.

You nodded and adjusted Felix gently so he wouldn’t wake up. “I picked up on it a while ago,” you admitted. “The way he looks at me, how he always tries to stay close… it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

Hyunjin blinked at you, clearly surprised. “And? What do you think about it?”

You hesitated for a moment before answering honestly. “I care about him too,” you said quietly. “He’s… special.”

The others exchanged glances, their shock giving way to understanding smiles.

“Well,” Changbin said with a grin, breaking the tension, “that explains why he’s practically glued to you all the time.”

Han snickered and leaned closer to Hyunjin. “I bet Felix would combust if he heard this right now.”

“Let him sleep,” Chan said firmly but warmly. “He deserves it after everything.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you glanced down at Felix again and couldn’t help but smile softly. His presence was comforting—not just for him but for you as well.

For now, you let him sleep peacefully against your chest while the others continued their playful banter around the room.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺       ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺  . ✦

The dance studio was alive with energy, music blasting as the members rehearsed their choreography. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching them move in perfect synchronization. It was moments like these that reminded you why you worked so hard to protect them—they were a team, a family, and you had become part of that dynamic.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, leaving them mid-discussion about a minor adjustment in their routine. 

When you returned, the atmosphere in the room had shifted. The music had stopped, and the members were huddled together, their expressions tense and conflicted.

“Did something happen?” you asked as you stepped back into the room.

They turned toward you, startled by your sudden presence. Felix’s gaze dropped to the floor immediately, his shoulders slumping as though he couldn’t bear to look at you. Chan cleared his throat awkwardly but didn’t speak.

Hyunjin was the first to break the silence. “We heard… about the reassignment,” he said cautiously.

You frowned. “Reassignment?”

Seungmin nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s talk that you might be transferred to another artist.”

“Because of how well you handled everything at the event,” Changbin added bitterly. “They think you’re too good for us now.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as Jeongin muttered under his breath, “They probably want him protecting someone bigger.”

Felix finally looked up, his expression more than disappointed—it was hurt. “Are you leaving us?” he asked softly, his voice trembling.

The room fell silent again, their gazes fixed on you as they waited for an answer. You could see it in their eyes—the fear of losing someone they had come to rely on not just for protection but for support and care.

You chuckled lightly, breaking the tension in the room. Their confusion was immediate.

“What’s funny about this?” Han asked sharply, his brows furrowing.

You shook your head and stepped closer to them. “I’m not leaving,” you said firmly.

Felix blinked at you, his lips parting slightly in shock. “You’re… staying?”

“I’m staying,” you repeated with a small smile. “I already told them I wasn’t interested in being reassigned.”

“But why?” Minho asked bluntly, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You could have anyone—any artist—under your protection.”

You glanced around at them—their worried faces, their vulnerability laid bare—and felt warmth spread through your chest. 

“Because I don’t want anyone else,” you admitted simply. “I want to stay here—with all of you.” Your gaze lingered on Felix just a little while longer.

The room erupted into a mix of relieved laughter and incredulous exclamations.

“You scared us!” Hyunjin exclaimed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

“I thought we were going to lose our human shield,” Changbin teased with a grin.

Felix didn’t say anything at first; instead, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. His head rested against your chest as he whispered softly, “Thank you.”

You returned the hug with one arm, careful not to strain your still-healing shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him quietly.

As Felix pulled back reluctantly, Han smirked mischievously and nudged Hyunjin with his elbow. “See? Told you Felix would combust if Jagae left.”

“Shut up!” Felix snapped half-heartedly, his cheeks flushing pink as the others laughed.

Chan stepped forward then, his expression warm but serious. “We’re glad you’re staying,” he said sincerely. “You’ve become part of this family.”

“And we’d be lost without you,” Seungmin added softly.

Jeongin nodded quickly in agreement before blurting out nervously, “Felix would definitely be lost without you.”

“Jeongin!” Felix hissed in embarrassment as laughter filled the room again.

You shook your head fondly at their antics but felt your heart swell at their words. They weren’t just teasing—they were expressing how much they valued your presence and what it meant to have someone who cared about them beyond their roles as idols.

As rehearsal resumed and the music started up again, Felix stayed close by your side, occasionally glancing at you with an expression that spoke volumes even without words. You knew now that your decision to stay had been the right one—not just for them but for yourself too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺       ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺  . ✦

The underground parking garage was suffocatingly quiet, the air damp and heavy as if it were holding its breath. 

You stood near a concrete pillar, your posture relaxed but your senses razor-sharp. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above was punctuated by the distant drip of water echoing off the walls. You had spent weeks unraveling this web of sabotage and threats, tracing every clue back to the mastermind who had endangered Stray Kids—and tonight, you would confront him. The person you've been suspicious and wary of this whole time.

Footsteps broke the silence, deliberate and slow, each one reverberating like a countdown. 

You turned toward the sound, your eyes narrowing as a familiar figure emerged from the shadows. His stature was unmistakable, tall and imposing, but his smile gave him away—the unbearable smirk you’d seen countless times in meetings. It was the kind of smile that dripped with faux-innocence and sickening kindness, underlying with condescension and arrogance, but tonight it carried a flicker of unease.

“You’ve been busy,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but laced with bitterness.

You didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch as you studied him. His hand slipped into his coat pocket, and you tensed slightly but didn’t move—waiting.

“You know,” he continued, stepping closer, “you could’ve avoided all this if you’d just taken the reassignment. I even recommended you for it—personally.”

Your jaw tightened as realization crystallized. “So it was you,” you said evenly, your voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath it.

The smirk widened as he stopped a few feet away. “Of course it was me. You’re too good at your job—too inconvenient.”

“Convenient enough to protect them from you,” you shot back.

His expression darkened as he pulled out a small remote with a single red button on it. “You think you’ve won? This garage is rigged to collapse with one press of this button.”

You held his gaze steadily and replied without hesitation: “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” His voice rose slightly as he pressed the button.

Click!

.

.

Click! CLICK! CLICK!

.

.

.

Nothing happened.

The smirk faltered as he pressed it again—and again—his movements growing frantic. Panic flickered across his face as he realized his plan had failed.

“I disabled your charges an hour ago,” you said calmly, stepping closer. “You’re predictable.”

His composure shattered completely as he lunged at you in desperation. But you were ready. Side-stepping easily, you grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before slamming him against the pillar. The remote clattered to the ground.

“It’s over,” you growled into his ear as footsteps echoed through the garage. 

Security officers swarmed in moments later, their weapons drawn.

He thrashed against your grip but couldn’t break free. 

“You’ll regret this!” he spat as they cuffed him and began dragging him away.

As they hauled him off into custody, you called out after him: “Goodbye, Ji-hoon.” 

Your voice was steady but laced with finality—a dismissal that echoed through the garage like a closing door.

Back at Stray Kids’ dorms later that night, relief washed over you as soon as you stepped inside. The tension from earlier lingered in your chest, but seeing their familiar faces eased some of the weight pressing down on you.

Felix was the first to rush toward you, his eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly, scanning you for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile.

The others quickly gathered around, their voices overlapping in a barrage of questions about what had happened.

“It’s over,” you said simply once they quieted down. “Ji-hoon has been arrested.”

Chan let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank God,” he muttered.

Hyunjin frowned slightly and crossed his arms. “You could’ve told us what you were doing.”

“And let you worry more than you already do?” You teased lightly before glancing at Felix, who hadn’t left your side since you walked in.

Felix’s gaze lingered on yours for a moment before he spoke softly: “I thought… I thought I- we might lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” you replied firmly, stepping closer to him.

The room fell silent as Felix’s eyes searched yours for reassurance—and then something shifted between you both. Without thinking too much about it—without giving yourself time to second-guess—you leaned down and pressed your lips gently against his.

For a moment, Felix froze in shock before melting into the kiss, his hands tentatively resting on your chest as if afraid to hold on too tightly. When you pulled back slightly, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips parted in disbelief.

“You… You knew?” he stammered softly.

“I knew,” you admitted with a small smile. “And I feel the same way.”

Felix blinked rapidly as tears welled up in his eyes—not from sadness but from overwhelming relief and happiness. He threw his arms around your neck then, burying his face against your shoulder as he whispered shakily: “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you’d ever feel that way about me.”

Before either of you could say more, Han’s voice broke through: “Well that escalated quickly!”

Hyunjin snorted loudly while Changbin grinned mischievously from across the room. 

“Felix finally confessed without confessing!”

“Shut up!” Felix snapped half-heartedly against your shoulder before pulling back slightly to glare at them—but his flushed cheeks betrayed how flustered he truly was.

“You’re lucky Jagae feels the same way,” Minho added dryly with a smirk.

Jeongin chimed in nervously: “We all knew anyway…”

“Wait—you all knew?” Felix asked incredulously, whipping around to face them while still clinging to your arm.

Seungmin shrugged nonchalantly but couldn’t hide his grin. “It was obvious.”

As laughter filled the room again and Felix buried his face against your chest in embarrassment, Chan stepped forward with a warm smile and clapped your shoulder lightly. “Welcome back—for real this time.”

You glanced down at Felix once more before wrapping an arm around him protectively and letting yourself relax for what felt like the first time in weeks. For now—for tonight—you were exactly where you were meant to be: by their side… by his side.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺       ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺  . ✦

That's the end! I stay up pretty late writing, so if there any inconsistencies are in the story, I apologize!

Part one, Part two

Love you, darling!

Do you only write Hannibal lecter or do you also write for NBC Hannibal?

Yandere! Hannibal x Reader: The Grand Meal

Gather around for a short story in the spirit of Thanksgiving. You have been invited by Hannibal Lecter to a celebratory dinner, although unexpectedly barren of other guests. He will be entertaining you this evening, carefully describing each dish as he battles his own inner turmoil. (For extra immersion, I suggest listening to Bach's 'Sheep May Safely Graze')

Warning: Cannibalism and detailed gore. I'd advise against reading if you're squeamish. 

[Horror Masterlist]

He politely aids you in removing your coat, folds it over his forearm, and steps aside, expectantly. You glance at him, somewhat confused.

"Your bag, if I may."

"Oh, I...I was planning to bring it with me. I have my phone in it and all the essentials." you stutter, unsure.

Uh huh. Your etiquette seems to be lacking in certain areas. Nothing that cannot be chiseled. 

"You won't be needing it, I assure you." he extends his hand out, waiting. 

You hesitantly place the dark leather Pochette into his fingers. Hannibal has always been rather particular when it comes to decorum. You wouldn't want to upset him, especially given his generous invite to his Thanksgiving celebration. He'd heard your complaint of being alone during the holidays and he encouraged you to join him instead.

As you hurry behind him down the spacious hallway, you quietly marvel at the expensive, tasteful paintings sporadically adorning the walls. 

"I suspected they might be to your liking." He briefly peeks back at you with a faint smile on his lips. 

The heavy wooden doors creak open and your nostrils are quickly overwhelmed by the tempting smell of intricate dishes. You narrow your eyes, taking in the flavors. Once you finally look ahead, you notice that the table, although neatly decorated, consists only of two seats that have been prepared for dining. Two opposing seats, causing the whole setup to seem of ridiculous length. 

"Pardon my intrusion, but is anyone else attending?" You cannot contain your curiosity.

"Oh, no.  Not really." Hannibal pulls your chair outwards before departing to his own designated place. "It's you and me. Does that bother you?"

"I suppose it's cozier this way." You brush it aside with a chuckle. Better than being alone, you tell yourself.

He nods in agreement before settling down. He takes a moment to examine the table, confirming that everything is indeed in its proper place. A final, satisfied incline of his head.

"Allow me to introduce today's dishes. I don't want to keep you waiting for too long." He says as he remembers your earlier little gesture of delight. "It's a little bit of a scattered theme, if I am to be honest with you. I've drawn my inspiration from varied cuisines."

"I can see. How exciting!" You swiftly scan over the diverse plates, enthusiastic and hungry.

"The main course is over there. Balsamic-glazed oven baked ribs. I recommend a drizzle of cranberry sauce to go with it."

As he points to the dish, he can almost hear the dry crack of the bone. Abruptly, he's been taken back to the previous night, to his humble slaughter room - the meat needs to be fresh after all. Shears cut through the ribs with little resistance. The blades go around the thoracic cavity, contouring the ribcage. Once a proper opening has been made, he firmly grasps each side of the ribcage and nonchalantly lifts the bone flap, resting it over the face. 

Wait. He quickly digs through the skin and fat that had been shoved aside with the carcass, searching for the face of the victim. It's you. How delectable and surprising that you've wandered into such a recollection. Well, not quite a surprise that you've invaded his memories; from the very moment he met you he's been plagued by this indecent idea: How would you look on the dissecting table?

His musings are interrupted by the sizzle of the sparkling wine he's currently pouring in your glass. He finds himself back at the dining table, together with his favorite guest. You graciously thank him, and as he gazes over your features, he can't help but continue this game of imagination he's just spontaneously devised. Whoever had been carefully served for this occasion will be temporarily replaced during the theatrical retelling by you. And what a fine actor you'll be, even though you're not aware of it.

Alright, one must start from the beginning. He traces the edge of the autopsy table and inspects the drain just below your feet. He wouldn't want an incident. Would you be mortified if you'd learn your secretions and discharges leaked and clotted against the sieve? Don't worry, you'll be spared of such scenarios. He'd never willingly embarrass you like that. He softly presses the scalpel against your bare skin, going under each breast and stopping at the pubic bone. Now to trim the thick layers of fat sticking to the dermis. You're not making much of a mess, but then again it's a dream within his idle mind. A mischievous grin takes over his expression once he witnesses his clean work. The segments of skin detach smoothly, revealing your glistening, bloated organs. 

He already went over the ribs. That part has been covered. What comes next? His eyes rest on the most obvious: your intestines. Which reminds him...

"This one is a Middle Eastern dish. Stuffed intestines. You gently cut the membrane, like this." He demonstrates on a separate plate. "Don't worry about seeing some additional blood. Naturally there are many capillaries irrigating the walls, so you might open them up in the process. It quickly seeps into the mixture and adds a bit of a stagnant flavor to it, but it's merely noticeable."

You swallow dryly.

Back to the original matters. He searches for his scissors and cuts along the attachment tissue smoothly. Once the bowels have been freed, he fondles them into his hands, cupping them into place, and hurries to the nearby counter. The entrails collapse and spread onto the marble surface, like mischievous tentacles. He languidly eyes them. Do organs resemble their owner? Absurd question, really. Do they reflect one's health - that much is indubitable. Yet he can't help feeling that if presented with an endless row of viscera, he could, without hesitation, point and state which ones are yours. It's a mysterious confidence whose source he cannot pinpoint. You've always captivated him. Just when he thinks he's had you like an open book, you slip and slither between his fingers. Fitting.

What is it about you that preoccupies his mind to such degree? He turns back to the table and scans the remaining options. Your intelligence? The tool drawer opens and his fingers linger over the saw and skull chisel. Perhaps. But there's more to it, really. His analytical, rational self craves for more than what it can grasp. And what it lacks, well...

He pinches the visceral fascia and lifts the translucent membrane, with the same delicacy of unveiling a young bride, and reveals your heart, cold and still. There it is, the answer to everything. A transect to the vena cava near the diaphragm and the organ has been separated from the rest of the body. An angel with clipped wings. Holding it like this, he can almost discern the faintest throb, the fibrous muscle pressing into his skin. 

"And this?"

He purses his lips, taken aback by his own rudeness. Has he been zoning out in plain sight?

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"The dish, I mean."

He follows the direction of your stretched out index. Ah.

"Heart stuffed with mushroom duxelle. Old English classic with a twist." 

"You sound like a professional chef", you respond as you laugh. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Is there? He considers it. Right before his revelation was discontinued by your inquiry - absolutely not your fault, the ill manners were his - he was wondering if he possesses the capacity to love you. He definitely prefers you over all of the people he's encountered in his life, and your behavior and way of thinking never ceases to make him curious. Yet love is a conclusion he cannot asses with certainty. 

He had hoped a vivisectionist approach would offer him concrete data, palpable reasoning, but his journey only reinforced that some concepts must be tested outside of pure introspection. Or, as one would describe it colloquially, he has to take the bull by its horns. 

"By the way, what meat is this?" You have arranged yourself a platter with a little bit of everything, and just finished chewing a hearty bite. "Ox or something? It's very tender."

If Hannibal is to embark on his expedition of human feelings, he needs to reflect on his choices carefully. Or does he? Hmm. His methodical tactics are what caused this impasse in the first place. 

One can afford to give in, every now and then. How will you react to his self indulgence? He rests his head on the back of his intertwined hands and stares at you with a determined look. 

"Human."

Sigma Sigma Sigmaaaa <33

STONE OCEAN NATION WAKE UP…… MEGAN HAS DONE IT AGAIN.

how i feel when i dont have a white boy to obsess over

edit: holy shit yall, thanks for almost 800 likes/reposts 🫶

some recent gallagher honkai star rail sketches/wips bc i got back into playing the game and the brainrot hit me hard 🫶

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Hello, My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I live in Gaza with my family. Life here has become harder than I ever imagined, and I’m writing this with hope in my heart that you might hear our story.

The ongoing war has devastated my family. We’ve lost 25 family members—each one a beloved part of our lives, taken too soon. I miss them deeply—their laughter, their presence, their love. Every day is a reminder of this unimaginable loss.

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We are now facing daily challenges to survive—things that most people take for granted, like food, clean water, and a safe place to sleep. The harsh realities of life here have replaced our dreams with the constant fight for survival.

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