#Seungcheol thriller

[miabebe]

The Intruder's Eye (CSC)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it didn't make one want to keep an eye at all times?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Choi Seungcheol

Word count - 6K (I failed the below 5k challenge T.T)

Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and a whole lot of pyscho-ness whelp Warnings under the cut!

A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you goooo! You can also check out Jeonghan's and Joshua's!

Again @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - what would I do without y'all 🫂 this piece is basically all you guys!

warnings - intruder in the house, mentions of stalking, medications, deranged characters, triggering descriptions of a home intrusion, smut, homemade porn (lol), bondage (mouth and hands), blowjobs, cum eating, riding, rough sex, mentions of toys and anal, manhandling, psycho behaviour, please forgive me I can only allow myself to be this unhinged during spooky season

It was the soft pitter patter of the rain against the car window that woke you up. 

Slowly fluttering your eyes open, you looked out down the dark, lonely road on the other side, at the street lights were still obscured by the downpour. It's not as torrential as it was when you stepped out of the grocery store a while ago. It was too heavy for you to even drive then so you settled in your car for a while, waiting for the rain to get less harsh. You didn't realise when you fell asleep. 

Looking at the 8pm flashing on your phone screen and the way darkness had engulfed everything around, a strange panic rose in you. You weren't really afraid of staying out too late but given the things that had been happening around you recently - you didn't want to take the risk. 

Turning on the engine and shifting the gears, you took a deep breath, and started driving  towards home. 

The street was empty for the most part - not many cars were on the road given the warnings for the incoming storm earlier that day. You didn't have a choice but to leave - you were suddenly running low on supplies, the shopping list in your hand was almost a page long. You glanced at the groceries at the backseat with a satisfied sigh - guess the newfound cardio routine was doing a good job in working up your appetite. 

As you neared your house, the streets became more illuminated, much to your relief. Unlike the rest of the town, your neighbourhood was a much safer space - there were streetlights, surveillance cameras and disguised cops always patrolling the area. Most people who resided here didn't know but many of the inhabitants of these row houses were in fact people placed on witness protection. You knew because you were one of them. 

One year ago, your testimony in a high profile case had led to some very bad people finding themselves behind bars. In exchange, you were promised protection, leading to your identity being morphed and your life being relocated to this locality. You were promised that nothing would happen to you here, that you would be very safe. You believed it then, but not so much now - not when you turned into your street and noticed the camera at the end of it was short circuited. Perhaps the storms over the last few days had a hand in it. 

You didn’t think much of it.

But maybe you should.

Because as you grabbed your groceries and ran to the door, fishing for your keys, you realised you didn't need them. The door was not locked. 

You racked your brains to remember if you had locked the door before you left or if you were in too much of a hurry to beat the incoming rain. Your memory is a little fuzzy, it has been like that for awhile, but you were too cold and aching to just get inside to give it any further thought.

 You must've forgotten to lock it - what other explanation could there possibly be? 

Balancing the bags in one hand, you slowly pushed the door open as you stepped in, flipping the switches with bated breath. 

Everything seemed fine, nothing felt out of place. Releasing a breath you tell yourself that everything is fine - you were clearly overthinking things. Paranoia had been a part of your life ever since the proceedings of that case - you were always wary, always suspicious, always scared. Though, you shouldn't be feeling that way anymore, you had taken your medication - you should be fine.

But how were you supposed to feel fine when every small thing made the hair on your skin stand. Like the curtains in the living room being open for example. You never kept the curtains open, especially not since your new neighbour moved in a few months ago. 

He called himself Choi Seungcheolwhen he knocked on the door to offer an introduction. You didn't know if that was his real name or the one the cops had given him as a part of the programme. Either way you didn't ask him lest he might ask you yours in return - you didn't need your identity compromised, not when the gang of those convicts was still actively looking for you. You had simply nodded and shut the door. 

Since then, you’ve always had the curtains closed. You had to, because somehow every time you looked out, Seungcheol was by his window, watching you. If you were being honest, Seungcheol was hot as fuck and a year ago, if a man like that was interested in you, you wouldn't have let him go. But things were different now - you couldn't trust anyone anymore.

Walking up to the window, you stumbled over the dumbbell in the way as you glanced at the neighbouring house. The two of your houses were the only ones on the street that weren't covered in Halloween decorations. It made sense - you were both single and did not have to deal with whining, crying, demanding children so there was no need for this facade. 

But you weren’t that lackluster, you did buy and keep some candy for the trick or treaters though you wouldn’t know if Seungcheol had done the same - he didn't seem too particularly fond of children. He never let them near the house. In fact he never let anyone into his house. You had never seen a woman or a friendly face from town or even a family member step into his place - he pretty much always kept to himself. It’s not like anyone else in this neighborhood had the luxury for such anyway.

At present, there was no sight of him or even his silhouette, with how the curtains of his house were drawn but all the lights were still on. Sighing a little in relief, you do the same, shutting the blinds. Still feeling the weight of the dumbbell against your foot, you pushed it out of the way, wondering how it had displaced itself from the rest of the workout equipment in the first place. You hadn’t even used those in a while now. 

Still lost in thought, you walked into the kitchen and as you turned the lights on, a shiver ran down your spine. 

Something was off, something did not seem right. 

At first glance everything seemed fine, but looking again carefully–nothing seemed right. The apron wasn't in its usual place by the spice rack, you don’t recall leaving out a glass of water on the counter, or leaving a packet of corn chips open. You never leave things out when you leave, you always put them away.

But things like this had been happening ever since you started your medication. You were more forgetful, and that was inconvenient but without your daily dosage it was like a fight between your nerves and caution - anything that moved invoked fear in you, every small sound made you shiver. There was no choice but to take those pills everyday. It was the only think keeping you sane. 

Shaking your head, you organized everything back in place again. Everything was fine. You had taken an extra dosage right before you left the house, you were just a little fazed from all the chemicals. Surely it was just your imagination, it wasn't like anyone could have entered the house in your absence….right? 

But there was a half eaten bowl of cereal in the sink and you… you were lactose intolerant, you didn't drink milk - that couldn't be yours. Hands shaking, you took a step back. 

Someone was in this house. 

Quickly opening the drawer, you grabbed a knife, gripping the handle hard and tight. The only question was, were they still in the house? 

Wiping the sweat off your face, you took a small careful step out of the kitchen. 

It was quiet, deadly quiet, there was not a sound to be heard, but the hum of the electrical appliances and the soft patter of the rain outside. Then you heard it, ears sharp and sensitive to the sound of water dripping. Slowly you moved towards the washroom, holding your weapon out, breath shaking. 

When you cautiously pushed the door open you noticed the floor was wet, water leaking from the shower head, drop after drop. You've never had this problem before, did you have a plumbing issue?

Stepping in, you tried to fix the faucet with your free hand. But no matter how many times you adjusted the hardware, water continued to drip, rendering you unsuccessful in your attempts. It felt like a really strong hand had broken the tap which was silly because you were definitely careful with how you handled your things? Neither could have broken this nor clearly, could you fix it. Annoyed by your failure and the thought of calling maintenance, you stepped out of the shower, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. 

There was a strange tiredness etched all over your features, hiding a stranger something behind it. Your eyes had sunken further into their sockets, thin wisps of hair framing your face - You’ve definitely had better days and was… was that a knife in your hand? 

You glanced at it quizzically. Why did you step into the shower with a knife? 

Softly smacking your head at your silliness, you walked back into the living room, leaving the tap for another day. Half yawning with tiredness were ready to retire for the night when your eyes fell on the grocery bags still waiting for you on the table - you had forgotten about it. Groaning at the thought of having to put everything away, you set the knife on the dining table and grabbed your purchases instead, taking them into the pantry. Perhaps it was because you were too deeply immersed in your organisation, but your otherwise sharp ears missed the rustling of the leaves outside, crunching under someone’s footsteps.

Going through the grocery checklist scribbled in horrible handwriting to make sure you had gotten everything, you swiftly began putting them all in their place. The pastas in the jars, the fruits in the baskets, the sauces in the tray. The heaviest thing you bought was perhaps those huge jars of protein powder. You weren't really sure why you decided to buy it - sure your doctor said you were too weak and needed to exercise to build strength but you didn't need to buy all of the products the Internet recommended to you. 

Telling yourself you'll find use for it later, you pushed them onto the shelves and turned to the meat instead, throwing them into the fridge. You didn't really know how to cook meat too well but you wanted to try. Seungcheol had once grilled some meat in his backyard and came over to offer you a few bites. When you tried to take it from him at the door, he pulled his hand back and cocked his head. 

“Are you not going to invite me inside?” 

He was always trying to make a move on you like that. You knew what he wanted, you knew what he had his eyes on but the answer was, no. You could take the deliciously cooked meat from him but couldn't let him into the house. It was too soon to trust him. 

But Seungcheol was relentless. 

It was evident with how he was the only one in town who turned up at the video store where you worked. And he came everyday. Normal people didn't borrow a new movie everyday, right? Clearly he was flirting with you. Or at least he was trying to. You only ever behaved professionally with him . Except sometimes, when he asked for movie recommendations of a very specific genre. You didn't really know many serial killer documentaries or crime podcasts to suggest, so you would simply ask a colleague to take over. Over the days, you watched him consume every last bit of thrillers available in the store and distantly wondered if he had a life outside of this consumption. 

Perhaps not. Seungcheol seemed a bit odd like that. 

He talked to everyone in town but didn't really seem to have any friends. He wasn't home for days together sometimes - you didn't really know the nature of his job so you couldn't tell why his absence was so frequent. He always drove that tiny pickup truck of his with some weird boxes and bags hidden under big blue plastic sheets in the trunk. . 

The whole deal about him was just not right. You knew something about him was not right. Even though he was incredibly pleasant on the eye, you had to be wary of him. 

You had to be wary of everything. . 

But maybe you weren't always as alert as you should be. Because it  was only as you were putting away the last of the snacks that you heard that sound - the thumping. 

It seemed like it was coming from outside…. Or was it upstairs? It felt like it was coming from right above, like the sound of someone's feet. 

And just like that,, you remembered the intruder again - the one who might still be in your home. 

Quickly you rushed to grab the knife from the table once more and held it out in defense. Whoever came to the house was most definitely still here, you could feel it in your bones. 

As you slowly made your way towards the stairs, trying to maintain a soft footfall to avoid the creaking of the stairs, another sound took you aback. 

No, not your racing heart - The doorbell. 

Turning sharply, you glanced at the door with wide eyes. Who could it possibly be?  At this late hour?

The ringing only became more persistent, morphing into knocks while you inched towards the door, grip on the knife tightening. 

As you slowly pressed down the handle and slightly opened the door, you were met with cheerful voices, much to your relief. 

“Happy Halloween!” 

Before you was a tiny ghost, a pirate, a couple of princesses and a buzz lightyear, all half your height, looking at you surprised. 

“Ms. L/n!” 

“Hey kiddos.” 

“Where's Mr. Choi?” The pirate pouted. “We thought we could finally get him to be nice to us, hand us some treats.” 

“Aw.” You pinched his cheek with your free hand. The one that was not hiding the knife behind the door. “Mr. Choi isn't in town sadly.” 

The little kid looked at you quizzically. “Then what are you doing in his house?” 

.

.

.

Oh. 

You blinked at him while he looked up at you expectantly. 

Then your lips split into a sweet, saccharine smile. 

“He asked me to look after it while he was gone.”

“When will Mr. Choi be back?” 

You glanced at the inquisitive little ghost, fiddling with the knife in your hand. 

Please, please don't make me use this. 

“Do you want an answer or candy?” You cocked your head cheekily. “I'm only giving out one.” 

“Candy!” They screamed as you laughed and reached for the packet you had just bought, ripping it open with the knife.

They watched excitedly as you dropped handfuls of chocolate into their little baskets and plastic pumpkins. With a scream of “Ms. L/N is the best!” they scurried away to their next target of the night. And so did you, tossing the knife onto the table once again.

You clutched your head and released a low hiss of irritation at the dull throb.Those stupid medicines were really getting to your head now, you were forgetting too many important things. Thank fuck for the children, otherwise you would have never remembered what really had to be done. 

Locking the door behind you, you quickly made your way up the stairs. There was no need to head softly - the stairs had a tendency to creak in your house, not in Seungcheol’s. 

The thumping from earlier was more pronounced now as your senses slowly cleared up, much like how the light flooded from underneath the bedroom door. The soft thumps are getting louder and louder as you neared it. With a twist of the knob and swing of the door, you tilt  your head with a smile. 

Light flooded from underneath the bedroom door, the soft thumping sound getting louder and louder as you neared it. Opening it wide, you cocked your head with a smile. 

There he was. 

Sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, Seungcheol was looking gorgeous as ever. He was dressed in just his grey sweatpants, the thick muscles of his shoulders and pecs bared before you. His biceps too were popping on either side thanks to the fact that his hands were tied at the back of the chair. Oh and his mouth was gagged shut, his words turning into muffled whimpers as he looked at you wide eyed, halting the stomping of his feet.

“I know, I know, I'm sorry.” You raised your hands apologetically. “I meant to be back soon but you know how I am, forgetful little me. I'm sorry baby.” You neared him, walking around his chair, bending to whisper in his ear. “But I see you're having your fun.” 

Your eyes flickered from the tent in his pants to the laptop you left on for his entertainment, right in the line of his vision. You see yourself on the screen, dressed in the hottest lingerie you owned, looking right in the camera with the vibrator held just where you needed him and only one name spilling from your mouth - Seungcheol. 

This wasn't the video you played from him before you left for the grocery store - perhaps they were auto playing, lucky him. You had hours of such footage of yourself - in all kinds of positions, with every possible toy, in role play costumes, in every possible color of lingerie, you had an unmatchable variety. The only thing common among all of them was his name. Choi Seungcheol. 

Could you be blamed? The man was unbelievably attractive. It wasn't like you didn't try to avoid him, to repel all that magnetism. You were well aware of your nature - it hadn't been long since you had gotten a chance to start afresh and you didn't want to spiral again. You really really didn't. 

But Seungcheol was persistent. He wouldn't stop flirting with you at any given chance, he kept trying to invite himself home, he was consistently intrusive. You kept him at bay for the longest time, at least until the day you had to return the box he had left with you, the one in which he gave you the grilled meat. 

You didn't expect him to open the door with his shirt off, slick with sweat, flushed and half panting. When you caught sight of the dumbbells behind him,  could tell he was working out but somehow you couldn't help but think this was probably how he looked when he fucked and god did that make your mouth water. 

That day he shouldn't have invited you in. Then you wouldn't have found your resolve crumbling so weakly. You wouldn't have found yourself under him being pounded like there was no tomorrow. You wouldn't have crossed the line like this. 

What started that day set off a cascade of events. Sleeping with Seungcheol became quite a regular act - there was no part of you that he had left unexplored, untouched. He was in every crevice, every cell, you were entirely consumed by him. When you were at work, all you could think about was how well he fucked you the day before. When you were on the way home, all you could think about was how well he was going fuck you today. Even after you reached, you always made it a point to immediately wash up, wear your nicest underwear and knock on his door. You always did it at his house. 

He did try to come to your place a couple of times but you consistently steered the two of you back to his house somehow. It was one thing to let him cum in you but to come into your house? You couldn’t have that happening, he’d ask too many questions - why do you never use the garage Y/n? Why was it always locked Y/n? Why did you have a ridiculous number of gardening tools in your house when you don’t even grow any plants Y/n? You knew the questions wouldn't seize and the answers weren’t good for him. They weren't good for anyone who's heard them all these years. 

Another reason you didn't want him home was because you didn't want to ruin the surprise. 

Now, Seungcheol was a self-sufficient man. He was happy with himself, his life, his home, his solitude. It was evident all he was looking for in you was a good fuck - afterall, he would never ask you to stay the night or to be his girlfriend even though you'd been seeing each other for months. You were okay with that….. for now. The two of you were still exploring, still understanding each other's bodies and limits. You didn't mind him taking his time, you needed your time as well. 

You see, Seungcheol loved his home. He loved every piece of furniture, every bowl, every mat - he was incredibly fond of his space, taking all the time and effort in the world to curate it. You, on the other hand, didn't really care much for your house. As long as it could fulfill basic needs and keep you safe, you were good - it wasn't like you stayed for long in one place anyways. But your heart knew that you wanted to stay with Seungcheol for the rest of your life. There was something dark about him too that told you he belonged with you the way you belonged to him. You wanted him to feel like he belonged to you too, you wanted him to feel at home with you. You wanted to be his home. 

That's why you took months together to design and turn your house into an identical replica of Seungcheol’s. 

And when you say replica you mean down to the T. Everything was the same. You made sure it was the same. All those times he was away for days together thanks to his job, you found yourself slipping into his house taking detailed notes of every object, every piece. You would only see, not touch or take anything away. Come on, you were no thief, thieves are bad people.. 

After that you had spent all your time online or going from store to store, finding originals and duplicates of his belongings. Given that he loved to have really exclusive pieces in his house they were not easy to procure but with a little sweet talk, a little threatening and a little unspeakable things, you had somehow managed to bring them all home. To the home you were making for him. 

Earlier this week, you had gotten hold of the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle - a childhood photo of Seungcheol's family, framed and hung on the wall. It was the hardest thing to get your hands on. His estranged sister would not leave her house for long enough - it took a major occupational accident at her husband's construction site to finally get her moving. 

With everything finally in place today, just as the sun began to set, you went over to Seungcheol's house to bring him over at last, to show him what you had done for him. Seeing how his front door was unlocked you stepped in, curiously looking around for him. But that feeling evaporated the moment you heard that sound - the sound of a woman moaning. 

It felt like the ground under your feet had slipped. Perhaps that was why you grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall, to give your shaking hands something to hold on to as you made your way to his bedroom…. He didn't even bother to shut the door. 

There he was, sitting on the bed with his laptop open before him, frantically getting himself off to the video of some pizza delivery girl getting her “payment”. 

Porn. He was watching porn. 

The moment his eyes fell on you by the door, he quickly tucked his length into his sweats and jumped off the bed, looking at you like you were crazy. Oh no Choi Seungcheol. He didn't just do that. He shouldn't have. Maybe then you wouldn't have swung the bat and knocked him out cold. Maybe he wouldn't have found himself in the middle of the room all tied up when he came around. 

You just couldn't understand him. What was the need for him to look at other women or even think of one when you were right there? Was he bored of you? Were you not enough? You did everything you could to keep him - every depraved fantasy, every humiliating act, every time he was rough to bruise you for days together, you took it all, you begged for more. Then why was he doing this? 

When he finally opened his eyes, he didn't answer your questions, he was simply screaming to set free. Well of course the only thing you could do was to shut his mouth in some way and with him unable to speak, you had to find other ways to get answers. You needed to find out if Seungcheol was just not attracted to you anymore. 

That's why you brought out your video collection, little films you had taken of yourself back when you were still pushing him away, all while wondering what it was like to get fucked by him. His mouth may say whatever but anatomy couldn't lie right? There was something else that could stand up and answer you. 

You had meant to stay and watch, afterall, you were proud of the quality of your content but the flashes of thunder outside told you that perhaps it was wiser for you to go to the store first. You knew whatever was going to transpire wouldn't be over any time soon, you had to stock up before the storm locked you in. Besides, it was Halloween night, all the cute little kids would be coming around for candy, you didn't want to miss out on that. 

You didn't and thanks to them, you didn't succumb to your forgetfulness and miss out on this either. 

“There there.” You cooed, removing his gag and he coughed, unable to regain his ability to speak just yet. You waited for him to come around, walking back to sit on the edge of the bed as he looked at you meekly. 

“Water.” He whispered, voice just a little horse. 

You raised your eyebrow. How did he manage to sound so sexy all the time? 

“Thirsty are we?” You smiled. “I thought my gift might have helped.”

“Y/n please.” He groaned. “What kind of sick joke is this?” 

Oh. He thinks it's a joke. A little Halloween scare perhaps. A prank gone overboard. Oh he has no idea.

“I think it's me who you take for a joke.” You glanced down at his raging boner. “Or not, considering how excited you are.”

You got up, leaning over him, hand gripping the back of his chair. 

“I'll help you.” You licked your lips. “Either I'll untie you, take my little collection and get out of here. Or I'll help with your not so little predicament with any and every hole I have…. Pick your poison.” 

Seungcheol looked at you wide eyed. His breath was shaking, lips were quivering and a hundred and one things seemed to be running behind those pretty eyes. 

Slowly gulping, his Adams apple moving with a bob, he shut his eyes. 

“It's unbearable.” He mumbled. “It's just…. Please help me.” 

And you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

Sliding off the bed, you got on your knees, crawling up to him, slotting yourself between his legs. Seungcheol’s eyes flew open when your hands found his thigh, a soft sigh tumbling out of his mouth. He loved to fuck your mouth. He loved how eager to please you always were, always trying to take in more of him, always trying to do better. God he loved it.

He watched as you pulled his sweats down the best you could and wrapped your tiny hand around his dick. He was raging hard, the tip flushed in an angry red, precum smeared all over. You were lucky he was in your control now. If he were allowed to have his way, he might just break you. 

Stroking him agonisingly slowly, you inched closer to place a small kiss on his tip, the softest interaction that had ever happened between the two of you. Before Seungcheol could even relish that moment you wrapped your lips around his length and took him all the way in. Fucking hell. Seungcheol thought he was going to pass out with how intensely you were blowing him. He wished you'd untie his hands. He'd go anything to just push your head down his dick and feel himself in your throat. That was a sureshot at making him come, these shallow and fast bobs of your head were only aggravating him. 

Maybe that's what you wanted. Because the moment he let out his tell tale groan, letting you know he was close, you pulled away with a pop and wrapped your hand around his cock instead. Before he could complain about losing the warmth of your mouth you began stroking him fast thanks to the wetness of your spit and before you knew it, he felt himself reaching that high, meaningless words leaving his mouth. With a few more jerks, he came all over himself in spurts, ropes of white coating his abdomen. 

As he tried to battle his feelings of relief after finding a much needed release, disappointment for not coming in your mouth, and slight fear, not understanding what the hell was going on, you slowly let him go, wiping your hand on his sweats. Looking straight into his eyes, you leaned forward, gathering the cum all over his skin with your tongue and showing it to him before you swallowed it. Fuck, Seungcheol felt the blood rushing down there again. He was far from done tonight. 

Getting up you looked at him questioningly though you were well aware of the answer. 

“Do you need more?”

Unable to do anything else, he nodded slowly, whispering please. 

Smirking, you quickly stripped yourself out of your clothes. You would have made a show out of it, tease him slowly but you were equally desperate to fuck him so you quickly abandoned that idea. Throwing your garments somewhere, you clambered onto his lap, aligning yourself over his dick. You didn't need any prep or lube, you were practically dripping from just blowing him. 

Slowly sinking onto his length you threw your head back, finally feeling full. Seungcheol moaned too, burying his face between your boobs as you bottomed out, your grip like a vice. Holding onto his shoulders you began fucking yourself on his length, snapping your hips relentlessly. You could tell the feeling was too much for Seungcheol too as he bit on the soft skin of your breasts. It stung painfully but you let him - you always let him do whatever he wanted to you anyways. 

“Tired?” He looked up at you with a triumphant smirk as your pace began to falter thanks to the not so comfortable position of your legs. “Are you finally going to ask me for help?”

You shook your head. You didn't want him to have the upper hand anymore.

“Don't be stubborn, doll. You know it's better when I have my hands on you.” He ran his tongue along your breast, relishing the sweet and salty taste of you. “Untie my hands and we can make this better y/n. I know how much you love my fingers up your ass, and how much you like the grip on my hands all over you and how much you want me . Come on baby, untie me.”

You didn't want to, you really didn't want to but a part of you knew he was right. He could make you feel so good. 

Reaching over you pulled on the knot holding his hands together and in a flash his hands gripped the bottom on your thighs and with the sheer strength of his that you loved, he got up, lifting you along with him. Immediately pinning you to the wall, he began thrusting into you, drawing out the most exquisite moans from you as he hit the spot again and again and again. When unable to hold it anymore, you came around him, he tossed you onto the bed, pounding into you mercilessly, making you cum around him one more time before he painted your ass and back with his own release. Even then the night was far from over. 

After that he fucked you almost till dawn, pushing you to the limit as he made you cum so many times, you couldn't even keep count anymore. All you knew was that every bit of your body was screaming and creaming in pleasure - it was confirmed, you had to have Seungcheol for life, you had to do whatever it took to keep this insane man forever. You didn't know how but you could think about that later. For now, as day break approached, the two of you passed out in his bed. 

Seungcheol looked at you under the afternoon sun streaming into his room. You were fast asleep - he tried waking you up a couple of times but you just would not budge. Finally giving up he resorted to just staring at you. 

Last night was…. better than Seungcheol’s wildest dreams. He always knew he was a bit of a freak, but he didn't think he'd find someone to match it in this quiet town he had been reluctant to relocate to. Even when he first met you, he thought you'd be one sweet love making session at most but you took him completely by surprise. You were as wild as he was - you were down for anything he asked, you never said no and most importantly, you enjoyed it all. Seungcheol thought he had hit the jackpot with you. 

But yesterday was most definitely not normal. At that time he was thinking with his dick because all the blood in his body was clearly there but as he looked back at what happened, nothing about it was right. You had knocked him out, tied and gagged him up before you left him. You had hours of footage of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of him… 

Seungcheol had noticed the dates. It was way before the two of you had begun your little arrangement and he didn't know what to think about that. There were tiny sirens going off in his head telling him to run as fast as he could but Seungcheol couldn't stop staring at you. You were ridiculously beautiful and he just had the best sex of his life last night. 

When you whined softly and turned over in your sleep, Seungcheol finally rolled off the bed and dressed himself. Finding your scattered clothes on the floor he gathered them, looking at them with a frown. He couldn't have you wear these again and his clothes were far too big for your tiny frame. Maybe it was time to start making room in his closet for a few of your clothes.

Knowing how tired you must be given last night's events, he silently fished out the keys from the pocket of your pants and decided to bring you a fresh pair from your house. 

He shouldn't have gone over. He never should have stepped into your house. Maybe then the tiny sirens in his head wouldn't have become a full blown ringing. 

If he had never discovered the truth of your house, if he wasn’t staring at an exact replica of his space, maybe he would've never come to terms that last night was indeed extremely abnormal. 

You were not normal. 

Something was very very wrong with you, the dozens of medications on the dining table were a testament of that. Seungcheol knew he had to go. He had to leave you and that house and this town. He needed to run away from this madness.

But when he turned to leave, he felt his heart stop just for a second. 

There you were, right at the door, dressed in yesterday's clothes, looking at him expressionlessly. Your eyes ran over his face as he felt the hair on his skin stand. 

He had to go, he had to get the hell out of here. 

“Oh baby.” 

You cocked your head at him, leaning against the frame with a small smile. 

This was an expression you had never seen on Seungcheol's face before - a mix of shock and fear and repulsion. You could tell he wanted to run. You knew he would end things now, you knew it was over but alas, it was too late to let him go. 

You couldn't let him go. 

Taking a step ahead, you slowly closed the door behind you, inching closer to him, yesterday’s knife stashed safely in the back pocket of your pants.

“Do you want to see what's in my garage?” 

A/n - As usual, comments and reblogs are much appreciated - I'd love to hear your thoughts, it really helps :) You can also read Jeonghan's and Joshua's :)

[yerimacoustic]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 ♡ 𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

❝𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ❞🕰️ 🍂

summary: when you and your ex husband receive a mysterious letter, the two of you are forced to confront confusing emotions and learn how to move forward.

content warnings: supernatural au, nonidol au, ghost hunter!seungcheol and reader, 90s au, seungcheol and reader are divorced, angst, cursing, horror themes, eventual fluff, lots of arguments, scary stuff, NO GORE. teaser: 800 wc. full fic: TBD.

notes: this is a TEASER for an upcoming s coups fic!! usually putting out little snippets first gives me motivation to write the damn thing lol but please interact if you like it! feedback is always appreciated

as you approached the front door of your small apartment, the wind assisted you in slamming it shut. the air stayed just as cold even once you found yourself sheltered within the thin walls, but you’d grown accustomed to it. you’d made a habit of sorting through your mail and listening to your voicemails without planning to respond to any of them, hoping that it would distract you from the cold.  

you plopped down at the kitchen table, pressing the speaker button and letting your chin rest in the palm of your hand once the receiver lay across the tablecloth.   

“you have twelve new messages. first message: 

“‘hey, y/n, it’s jeonghan. call me back. or else. okay love you, bye!’

“second message:

“‘jeonghan again! if you deleted the first mess-”

click.

“message marked for deletion. new message:

‘listen, we would all really appreciate it if you could come to bingo night. i know you’ve bailed on us the last…four or five times. or ten times, but who’s counting? anyways, call me back, or else. love you!’ 

you sighed heavily as you listened through the rest of jeonghan’s pleadings and eventually seungkwan’s rants. somehow jeonghan had convinced seungkwan to spam your landline with messages too, hoping that he would help persuade you to join them on their traditional outing. once again, you wondered why you had fallen into the habit of listening to messages without any intention of returning them. 

surprisingly, seungkwan and jeonghan weren’t the only ones lingering in your inbox. there was also a message from your boss, the pharmacy, and..

“‘hey… it’s seungcheol. please don’t hang up. i know you specifically told me not to use this phone number but.. okay, i won’t bore you with anymore excuses.’”

much to your own surprise, you chose to humor your ex husband. you continued to let the message play out. as you sat down at the table, you let the stack of mail fall to your lap while staring at the receiver in silence.  

“‘listen, i’ve been thinking lately and..i have a lot of regrets.’”

you snickered bitterly. 

“‘i know there’s not much i can say to make things better or.. change things that happened between us. hell, you’ve probably already deleted this message by now and i can’t really blame you for that. i don’t have a lot of time, i’ve ran out of change but.. i’d love to talk to you at some point. in person. if you’re up for that then.. you know where to reach me. bye.’

“to replay this mess-”

click. 

“message marked for deletion. your inbox is empty. you have no new mes-”

you slammed the receiver down and let out a heavy sigh. ever since the divorce, you felt like seungcheol had taken a part of you with him. you turned to isolation, ignoring family members and friends constantly in favor of drowning yourself in your work. you were able to keep up with the deadlines, but at a heavy cost.

it’s for the best, you kept telling yourself.

you digressed, flipping through the large stack of envelopes instead of dwelling on your own sadness. you were met with the all too familiar sight of bills, bills, and more bills until a thick brown envelope seemingly materialized from the bottom of the pile. you had no memory of picking it up or even seeing it in your mailbox. 

there was a wax seal in the center of the envelope, a dark red skull. a little on the nose, but alright. you ripped it open, taking note of the gorgeous stationery before focusing on the words written in cursive and immediately cringing at the foreign use of your maiden name:

miss l/n, 

i hope you don’t find this letter to be invasive or frightening by any means, but i’ve heard a great deal about your work. i’ve read a number of articles concerning your cases and i must say i am impressed. i’ve always admired believers of the supernatural, especially in a world filled with skeptics. 

i know you’re probably out of experience, given it's been a year or two since your last job and circumstances have changed, but i would love a chance to talk with you about an ongoing issue in my home. there’s voices, objects moving, frigid winds.. you name it. 

my home address is attached to this letter. please give it some thought and keep in mind i’m willing to pay you handsomely for your troubles.

best wishes to you. 

it wasn’t surprising to know that your mysterious client knew about your divorce, considering it was in most of the papers. at least the stupid journalists were considerate enough to leave most of the details out of their articles. 

but you were almost certain no one knew about your new home address except for your inner circle.

[yoonzzziino]

i just saw your post about wanting to read angst fic.

a shameless promo but you could try reading slay leer. dw it's angst!

it took me 2 months to write it.

i will love to hear your thoughts on it :]

https://www.tumblr.com/selenophyyy/776355130546290688/slay-leer-part-one?source=share

hey :3 i actually read it, for me it is actually really nice. I personally don’t like thriller/horror but this piece did actually kept my toes up haha, really lived up to that thriller genre so kudos for u on that hun. Now as for the angst, i don’t know maybe it’s not enough for me? because of what’s happening to the mc i feel more frustrated than hurt (like what i expect from an angsty fic). I’m looking forward for the next part, if u have a taglist please add me. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[kathaelipwse]

Only the Dead Get Standing Ovations | C.Seungcheol

Pairing: Detective!Choi Seungcheol x Detective!Fem.Reader

Word Count: 23,459 words (crazy, I know-) Reading Time: 1 hr 30-ish mins

Genre: Crime Thriller | Romance | Psychological Mystery

Trope: Enemies to Lovers | Forced Partners | Protective Male Lead | Mutual Pining | Slow Burn

Warnings: Graphic violence, serial murders, blood/gore, psychological manipulation, PTSD themes, language, obsessive behavior, death mentions. MINORS STAY AWAY.

Synopsis: When a killer obsessed with theatrical “roles” starts leaving bodies across Seoul, two rival detectives—Reader and Seungcheol—are forced to reunite. He’s cold, calculating. She’s headstrong and haunted. Together, they decode cryptic notes, wooden masks, and staged corpses. But as the killer targets her, the case turns intimate. And for Seungcheol, losing her was never an option—even if it means becoming the bait.

Note : For the girlies who love slow-burn tension, protective men who don’t know how to express feelings unless death is involved, and a female lead who isn’t afraid to pull the trigger—this is for you. She’s his match in every way. His enemy, his partner… and maybe his only weakness.

--

The very air of Seoul, a city typically a symphony of kinetic energy and relentless ambition, had begun to thicken with something far more sinister than its usual summer humidity. For a month now, an insidious dread had been slowly suffocating its vibrant pulse. Two murders, eerily precise in their execution and chillingly similar in their macabre presentation, had been reported. Each victim, found in a disturbingly artful pose, was accompanied by a cryptic, handwritten note and an unsettling, crudely carved wooden mask, a blank stare frozen on its expressionless face. The pattern was undeniable, yet baffling. The police force, usually a bastion of unwavering efficiency, found itself stalled, its usual methodical pace disrupted by the sheer, unsettling artistry of the crimes. The killer, or perhaps a team, operated with a chilling precision, a tactical brilliance that mocked conventional investigative methods. This unnerving sophistication, this calculated, almost theatrical signature, had pushed the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency to its limits.

It was this very deadlock that led Captain Kim, a man whose face was usually etched with the weariness of decades in law enforcement, but now showed a hint of genuine desperation, to make a decision he knew would be met with an explosive clash of personalities. He stood before the two most brilliant, yet utterly incompatible, minds in his precinct. On one side, Detective Choi Seungcheol, a man whose reputation for solitary, almost reclusive brilliance preceded him. His sharp intellect was undeniable, his methods meticulous, but his demeanor was perpetually guarded, his eyes often carrying a distant, analytical gleam. On the other, Detective Y/N, equally gifted, equally incisive, but with a fiery streak of independence and an uncanny intuition that sometimes bordered on the prophetic. You and he did not merely "not get along"; you actively, spectacularly, and consistently disliked each other. Your antagonism was legendary, a simmering rivalry forged not out of personal animosity, but out of an infuriating, almost mirror-image equality. You had both attended the prestigious Seoul University of Criminology, each a prodigious talent in your own right. Your academic careers had been a relentless, neck-and-neck race, culminating in an unprecedented tie for "Best Student of the Year"—a shared triumph that, far from fostering camaraderie, had only solidified your mutual, competitive disdain. He couldn't bear your presence, a fact he rarely bothered to conceal, and you, in turn, found his stoic confidence, his occasional cutting remarks, and his general air of superiority utterly insufferable. You never trusted him, a feeling that had only intensified with every forced interaction since your university days.

Now, Captain Kim’s booming voice, laced with a weariness that cut through the tension, delivered the unwelcome news. "You two," he stated, his gaze sweeping from Seungcheol’s rigid posture to your own defiant stance, "are on this case. Together. These tactics, these plans, these methods… they’re too complex, too nuanced. I believe only the two of you possess the unique, albeit clashing, minds required to crack this." The words hung in the air, a mutual sentence of professional purgatory, a shared nightmare that neither of you had signed up for. The implications settled like a heavy cloak: the serial killer was operating with a level of psychological depth and strategic planning that demanded the combined, albeit begrudging, brilliance of the city’s two top, and most adversarial, detectives.

Just hours after that fraught meeting, the city unveiled its latest, most gruesome horror, a macabre performance staged for an unwitting audience. The call had come in just as the first hesitant rays of dawn touched the city’s skyline, painting the grey concrete in hues of bruised purple and pale gold. You arrived on scene to find the flickering blue and red lights of emergency vehicles already painting the grimy facade of the abandoned Grand Theatre. The building itself, once a beacon of entertainment, now loomed like a forgotten mausoleum, its ornate entrance marred by graffiti, its windows like vacant, staring eyes. Inside, the scene was a grotesque tableau. A body, meticulously arranged, its limbs unnaturally wired like a grotesque puppet on strings, hung suspended in the cavernous, dust-mote-filled silence of the main stage.

The stage lights, usually dormant, seemed to have been rigged to cast a single, haunting spotlight on the victim, highlighting the horrific spectacle. A cracked, wooden mask, identical to those found at the previous crime scenes, obscured its face, a chilling void where a human expression should have been. The scene was meticulous, almost theatrical in its gruesome artistry, a silent, damning indictment of a killer with a flair for the dramatic. A profound shiver, cold and unwelcome, ran down your spine as your eyes landed on the quote carved deeply and deliberately into the victim's forehead: “She didn’t know her role.”

The silence of the theatre, usually filled with the echoes of past performances and forgotten applause, was amplified by the sheer horror of the discovery. Every creak of the old floorboards, every gust of wind through the broken windows, seemed to carry a whispered accusation, a chilling sense of being watched. The entire city was shaken; the media ran rampant with wild theories, speculating endlessly, and the cop/detective parliament found itself in an unprecedented state of panic, demanding answers the force simply didn't have. All the police had to go on, the only tangible proof the killer seemed to leave, was that unsettling wooden mask. Everything else was meticulously, frustratingly, absent.

Seungcheol was already there, a rigid silhouette against the faint light filtering through the grime-streaked windows, his back to you as he surveyed the grotesque tableau. You could practically feel his distaste for your presence radiating from him, a tangible force in the cold, dusty air, even before he turned slightly, his eyes narrowing, catching your gaze with an almost imperceptible flick of his head. "Well, Y/N," he drawled, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth, "looks like we're stuck. Again. In a damn theatre, of all places." His tone implied that your presence somehow made the situation even more absurd.

"Don't worry, Seungcheol," you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended, fueled by a potent cocktail of exhaustion, professional stress, and your innate irritation at his very existence. "I can handle being stuck with a brick wall. Just try not to get in my way, or stand there looking… stoic and superior. Some of us actually work on cases, you know."

He ignored your jab, his attention already back on the body, his gloved hands beginning their meticulous examination, his mind undoubtedly cataloging every minute detail. "No signs of forced entry. No visible struggle. The scene is disturbingly clean, almost sterile. This wasn’t a spontaneous act of violence. This was… planned. Every single aspect. Every wire, every angle of suspension. It’s almost surgical in its precision." His voice was analytical, devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the horrifying display before them. "The previous victims, the same calculated approach. No haphazardness, no frenzy."

You circled the suspended body slowly, your mind already racing, your instincts screaming, connecting the nascent dots, ignoring the tremor that ran through you as you noted the intricate wiring around the victim's limbs. "The previous victims… similar staging, similar masks, similar cryptic notes. This isn't just about a murder, Seungcheol. This is a performance. A grotesque, meticulously directed show for an unseen audience." You took in the empty seats, the silent stage, the single spotlight. "He's not just killing them; he's presenting them."

"A performance for who?" he scoffed, his gloved fingers meticulously tracing the lines of tension on the wires, examining the ligature marks. "A deranged artist with a flair for the dramatic? A frustrated playwright finally getting his audience?" He clearly found your dramatic interpretation a little too… theatrical, a little too close to the speculative side of things for his logical, fact-driven mind. "We're dealing with a killer, Y/N, not a theatre critic."

"No," you countered, your voice gaining conviction as a wild yet strangely fitting theory began to coalesce in your mind, a sudden flash of insight amidst the horror, like a spotlight illuminating a hidden corner. "This isn't an artist; it's a director. Someone utterly obsessed with control, with guiding the narrative of his own twisted play. He’s not just killing people; he’s ‘casting’ them. And these victims? They’re his reluctant cast members, forced into roles they never auditioned for, roles they clearly ‘didn’t know.’" You gestured around the vast, empty theatre, encompassing the silent rows of seats and the vast, dark wings. "He’s using this space as his stage, his backdrop. He sees life as a play, and he’s the one holding the script, orchestrating every scene, every 'act.' And these notes? They’re his personal, scathing reviews of their ‘performances,’ his ‘stage directions’ to the audience, telling us how they failed their ‘roles.’ And the masks? They’re more than just props; they’re deeply symbolic. Perhaps to hide the true identity of his victims from the audience, or more chillingly, to symbolize how he sees them – as interchangeable players, faceless and devoid of individual identity in his twisted, grand production. He’s not killing people; he’s taking them off the stage. The chances might be less, yes, far from the most probable, but what if he's not just killing people, but 'casting' them? What if these are all 'failed' actors, or people who didn't 'play their part' in some earlier, unknown ‘production’? Perhaps an actual play that flopped, or a group of people who betrayed someone. He’s correcting their ‘bad acting,’ as he perceives it, forcing them into a final, fatal role." You looked at the wired limbs. "He's making them puppets in his grand, horrifying finale."

He just stared at you, his silence more unnerving than his usual arguments. His gaze, usually so quick to dismiss, lingered, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. You braced yourself for the inevitable rebuttal, the logical dismantling of your theory, the scathing critique that usually followed your more unconventional insights. But it never came. He simply turned back to the body, a new intensity in his gaze, a quiet acknowledgment that your theory, however outlandish, held a disturbing resonance. The only proof they had was this unsettling wooden mask, and your theory, however unlikely, offered a lens through which to examine everything else.

Later that afternoon, back at the precinct, the air in Captain Kim’s cramped office was thick with the scent of stale coffee and the palpable frustration of a case spiraling out of control. Other detectives, their faces grim and defeated, sat around the worn conference table. You presented your theory, detailing the chilling parallels you saw between the current string of crimes and a twisted theatrical production, painting the killer as a malevolent "Director." You felt the skepticism in the room, the hushed whispers of your colleagues, their eyes darting to Seungcheol, expecting him to deliver the final, logical blow to your "imaginative" idea. Instead, to your profound shock, he supported it. He didn't just passively agree; he actively defended your reasoning, lending it the weight of his own calculated intellect, adding layers of logical deduction that bolstered your more intuitive leaps.

“While it’s undeniably unconventional, Captain,” Seungcheol stated, his voice steady and authoritative, effectively silencing the murmurs of doubt from other detectives gathered around the table, “Detective Y/N’s theory of a ‘director’ rather than a mere serial killer, while speculative, aligns remarkably well with the pervasive theatrical elements of these crime scenes. The meticulous staging of the bodies, the ‘roles’ carved into the victims’ flesh, the specific wording of the notes, the distinct wooden masks… it all strongly suggests a mind preoccupied with a narrative, with a perverse sense of dramatic structure. It gives us a new framework to consider, a potential motive beyond simple random violence or a personal vendetta. It’s a leap, but one worth taking, given the complete lack of other viable leads. The pattern suggests a level of premeditation and an underlying message that a simple 'artist' or random killer wouldn't typically possess.” He even went so far as to elaborate, "The 'she didn't know her role' could imply a deep-seated grievance, an adherence to a specific script the killer believes these victims deviated from. It connects the victim directly to the killer's narrative, elevating them from mere casualties to characters in his 'play.'"

You felt a reluctant, almost forced "thank you" escape your lips as you left the captain's office, the word barely audible, a quick, almost imperceptible flick of your gaze towards him. The tension between you was still a palpable, prickly third presence, a static charge in the air, a silent hum of competitive energy. Yet, for a fleeting, unsettling moment, a sliver of grudging, professional respect had edged its way in, a tentative acknowledgment of shared intellect and a surprisingly complementary approach. You had anticipated his scorn, but instead, you received his unexpected, almost clinical, defense. It was a bizarre development, adding another confusing layer to your already strained relationship.

Back at the theatre, now that you had Captain Kim's begrudging blessing to pursue your joint theory, you and Seungcheol returned to the scene, each moving with a focused intensity that bordered on obsessive. The puzzle deepened, growing more twisted with every passing moment. You meticulously re-examined every inch of the stage, the wings, the backstage corridors, the dusty dressing rooms, and even the exterior, including the back gate and alleyways. Despite the elaborate staging and the gruesome nature of the murder, there wasn't a single trace of blood anywhere – not on the stage, not in the wings, not in the dusty dressing rooms, not even at the back gate where a body of this size would undoubtedly have been moved into the building. The victim’s body, suspended above you, was visibly leaking, a slow, steady seep of crimson staining the fabric beneath, yet the entire theatre was pristine, unnervingly clean, as if no violence had ever marred its aged grandeur.

How could a human possibly carry a bleeding body without dropping any blood at all? It defied logic, defied physics, creating another chilling layer to the enigma. You exchanged a look with Seungcheol, a silent, mutual acknowledgment of the impossible. This wasn't just clean; it was surgically, impossibly clean. It implied a level of control, of planning, that was almost supernatural. And the note… “She didn’t know her role.” The initial reports had confirmed the girl wasn’t an actor at this particular theatre, or any theatre for that matter. Or was she?

Had she been involved in some amateur production? Had she been cast in some personal drama the killer had concocted? The questions hung heavy in the air, echoing the unsettling silence of the abandoned stage, a silent, chilling challenge from a killer who seemed to mock your every step, daring you to understand his twisted play. The wooden mask, the only tangible evidence, seemed to stare back at you, holding its secrets close. The hunt, you knew, had just begun.

--

The first horrifying act of the "Director" had concluded, leaving the city in a state of suspended terror and two mismatched detectives at a reluctant stalemate. The immediate aftermath of the theatre discovery had been a flurry of activity, forensic teams swarming the scene, every potential shred of evidence meticulously cataloged, however scarce. But the core of the puzzle remained maddeningly elusive. The victim, the girl found suspended like a grotesque puppet, was quickly identified.

Initial reports poured in, painting a picture of a young woman named Ji-eun, who had only recently moved to Seoul, barely a week prior. She had arrived with aspirations, her dreams tied to the vibrant theatrical scene, preparing to begin an acting course at a small, independent theatre not far from where her body was found. The timeline was grim: she had gone missing since Sunday, her disappearance initially dismissed as the typical fading act of a new arrival getting lost in the city's labyrinthine anonymity. Her body was discovered on Wednesday, a horrifying three-day window of unknown terror.

Seungcheol, ever the pragmatist, had immediately gravitated towards a more conventional line of inquiry. While he had begrudgingly acknowledged your "director" theory in front of Captain Kim, his analytical mind still sought a simpler, more personal motive. He believed that the theatrical staging might be a distraction, a smokescreen for a murder rooted in a personal vendetta, a jealous rival, a jilted lover, or a debt gone wrong. He spent hours, days, buried under a mountain of Ji-eun's personal history: her phone records, social media accounts, financial transactions, a sparse list of contacts in Seoul, her family history back in her hometown.

His office, usually a beacon of sterile order, became a chaotic landscape of printouts and notepads. He was looking for any crack in her life that could explain the violence, any personal grievance that might have escalated into such a theatrical and brutal end. He meticulously cross-referenced names, addresses, and any fleeting connections, convinced that if he just dug deep enough, the true, human motive would surface, proving his initial instincts correct and disproving your more outlandish, 'performance'-centric theory. He was utterly convinced this was a one-off, a deeply personal murder, not the work of a serial killer on a city-wide spree.

He was about to be proven devastatingly, horribly wrong.

The fluorescent hum of the precinct office felt particularly oppressive that afternoon, heavy with the stale scent of coffee and unspoken tension. You had been sifting through similar data, but with a different lens, trying to find commonalities between Ji-eun and the previous two victims, no matter how disparate their backgrounds seemed. Your own leads were equally cold, equally frustrating. The phone rang, a sharp, jarring sound in the quiet. You answered, your voice crisp, and listened, your expression slowly draining of color. Your eyes met Seungcheol’s across the desk, a silent understanding passing between you. He paused mid-sentence, a pen hovering over a file, sensing the shift in the air, the sudden, cold dread that radiated from you. You hung up, the click echoing in the sudden silence. Your face was grim, a mask of cold certainty.

"The church," you stated, your voice low, cutting through the silence of the office, "another body. We need to go. Now."

The scene at the historic Gwanghwamun Church was even more disturbing than the theatre. If the first victim was a puppet, this one was a twisted, blasphemous marionette of faith. The second victim, a man in his late fifties, was strung up like a praying marionette, suspended from the towering rafters of the nave, his head bowed, his hands clasped as if in eternal supplication. But the grotesque details told a different story.

His knees had been meticulously shattered, not cleanly broken, but mangled, as if deliberately destroyed to prevent him from ever truly kneeling. His mouth, distended and unnatural, was grotesquely filled with hardened wax, sealing his final prayers or screams within him. The air was thick with the scent of beeswax and old wood, a cloying sweetness that made your stomach clench. Outside, the usual throngs of tourists and worshippers were held back by a hastily erected police tape, their horrified murmurs a low hum against the distant city sounds.

Seungcheol, despite his initial professional detachment, was visibly disturbed. You could see it in the rigid set of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible tremor in his gloved hands as he pulled on a mask, his movements precise but uncharacteristically quick. He was the first to step inside the crime scene, past the uniformed officers, his trained eyes immediately scanning, dissecting, absorbing every horrifying detail. The subtle disturbance in his usual composure didn’t go unnoticed by you.

He moved around the suspended body, a silent, grim silhouette against the stained-glass windows, inspecting the ropes, the mangled knees, the wax-filled mouth, his mind already racing to connect this new nightmare to the last. The sheer depravity of it, the intimate violation of a sacred space, seemed to shake even his formidable composure. He didn’t utter a word, but his silence was louder than any scream.

Your gaze, meanwhile, swept the periphery, your instincts guiding you away from the immediate horror of the body itself. You knew the killer was theatrical, that he left messages. Your eyes scanned the shadowed corners, the dimly lit alcoves, the high ledges. And then, a glint. Small, almost imperceptible, tucked away in a shadowed recess near a confessional booth, barely visible against the dark wood. A tiny, almost insignificant flicker of light. You moved towards it, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Hidden, cleverly disguised against the ornate carvings, was a miniature camera, its lens still pointed directly at the scene. He had filmed the entire thing. The realization sent a cold wave of dread through you. This wasn't just about killing; it was about documentation, about forcing an audience to bear witness.

Back in your shared office, the silence was heavy, punctuated only by the soft whir of the computer tower. The camera, carefully extracted and tagged as evidence, was now connected, its internal memory being downloaded. The raw footage began to play, filling the screen with grainy, horrific clarity. Ji-eun, the first victim, had been alone on the stage. This new victim, a man, was struggling, praying, his desperate movements growing weaker. The screams, muffled by the wax in his mouth, were still agonizingly clear. The sickening sounds of struggle, the glint of blood, the methodical, chilling precision of the killer as he worked – it was all there, laid bare.

You watched it once. And again. And again. Each time, your eyes scanned for the slightest detail, a flicker of something missed, a hidden reflection, a tell-tale shadow. The killer remained frustratingly out of frame for the most part, a disembodied force, a presence rather than a person. The angle of the camera was deliberate, chosen to maximize the terror of the victim's plight while preserving the killer's anonymity. The tension in the small office was suffocating. Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a rare sign of agitation, closing his eyes briefly as a specific moment replayed on the screen, his mind struggling to process the sheer depravity. The killer, in the grainy footage, moved closer to the victim, his arm extending into the frame for a brief moment as he meticulously pinned a note to the victim’s chest.

It was a fleeting glimpse, perhaps only a second, but your trained eyes caught it. Your breath hitched, a sharp intake of air that made Seungcheol open his eyes, startled. "Seungcheol!" you exclaimed, pointing frantically at the screen, your finger practically jabbing the monitor. "There! His arm! On the outer area, just as he pins the note to the victim's chest. A distinct burnt patch… it looks like a birthmark. On his left arm!"

He snapped his eyes open, his gaze immediately darting to where your finger pointed. He rewound the footage, frame by excruciating frame, pausing at the exact second you indicated. A sharp nod, a silent acknowledgment of your keen observation. The detail was minute, easily missed in the chaos of the scene, but undeniable once pointed out. It wasn’t a scar; it was too irregular, too organic. A birthmark. A unique identifier. Hope, cold and fragile, sparked in the room.

His gaze hardened, a new determination setting in. Without a word, he immediately pulled out the history papers of both victims, spreading them across the desk. Ji-eun's sparse background, the second victim's equally unremarkable life. This had to be the joint link, the connection that had eluded them, the invisible thread that tied these disparate souls together into the killer's twisted narrative.

He started cross-referencing their personal histories, their professional lives, their social circles, not just for a personal motive now, but for any possible overlap, any shared experience, any common thread that could lead them to a single individual with a distinct birthmark. The chilling realization settled over both of you: this killer was far more messed up, far more dangerous, more strategically deranged than they had initially imagined. He was not just killing; he was carefully selecting, choreographing, documenting.

The hours blurred into an overnight paper trail, fueled by stale coffee and the mounting pressure from Captain Kim. Sleep was a distant, unreachable luxury. The small office became your claustrophobic world, filled with the flickering glow of computer screens, the rustle of paper, and the oppressive weight of your shared burden. The argument, when it finally erupted, was inevitable, a predictable explosion born from exhaustion, stress, and the inherent friction between your personalities.

"We're going in circles, Seungcheol!" you snapped, slamming a file shut with more force than necessary, the sound echoing harshly in the quiet room. Your voice was strained, your temper fraying. "We have the footage, the victims, the masks, the methods, now even a distinguishing mark, but nothing concrete on him! We have a birthmark, but no name, no face!"

"And what do you propose, Y/N?" he retorted, his voice dangerously low, edged with his own deep exhaustion and a growing frustration that mirrored your own. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "A magic trick? A psychic vision? This isn't a show, this isn't a performance for us! It’s a murder investigation, and we're dealing with a ghost who leaves behind meticulously curated scenes but no tangible footprint!"

"It's clearly a show for him!" you shot back, rising from your chair to pace the small office, your movements agitated. "The 'acts,' the 'performances' he references in those notes, the way he orchestrates these scenes! It's all part of his twisted narrative, his obsession, and we're stuck here, desperately trying to understand the script when we don't even know the prologue! And you, with your focus on 'personal motives,' wasted valuable time!"

"And what about your 'director' theory, Y/N?" he countered, his voice dangerously quiet now, filled with a biting sarcasm. "How’s that working out for us now that we have a second victim with no obvious connection to the first, besides this psychopath's 'performance'? You said the chances were low, but you stood by it. Well, it's not giving us a name now, is it?"

The words stung, igniting a familiar spark of anger, resentment, and a strange, vulnerable hurt within you. You stopped pacing, turning to face him, your chest heaving with barely suppressed fury. "And your 'personal vendetta' theory? How's that working out for you now that we have a second victim with no obvious connection to the first, besides this psychopath's 'performance' that you now grudgingly admit to? We're no closer to finding him!"

The air crackled between you, thick with unspoken accusations and the raw tension of shared stress. You stood, chests heaving, eyes locked in a furious battle of wills, a silent war waged in the heart of the police station. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the anger began to dissipate, replaced by a profound, soul-deep exhaustion that was almost palpable. The argument had drained the last vestiges of your energy, leaving only a heavy silence, punctuated by your ragged breaths.

Your gazes, once sharp with defiance, softened, then lingered. A moment stretched, held too long in the quiet hum of the office, the unspoken tension of shared stress, overwhelming pressure, and an unwilling, yet undeniably potent, partnership hanging heavy between you. It was more than just professional frustration; it was the raw, human toll of staring into the abyss, shoulder to shoulder, with the one person you were least prepared to acknowledge as an equal, or even as something more. The night, thick and starless outside, seemed to press in on the small room, holding its breath.

-----

Two weeks bled into nothing. Two weeks of relentless, soul-crushing work since the horror at the Gwanghwamun Church, and yet, the case remained as elusive as smoke. The precinct hummed with a desperate, unproductive energy, every lead dissolving into a dead end, every forensic analysis yielding no new revelation. The burnt patch, the birthmark on the killer’s arm, was a frustrating phantom, a distinct detail that remained maddeningly unattached to any known individual.

You and Seungcheol had chased down every remote possibility, sifted through databases of reported burn victims, scanned security footage from the vicinity of the church, but the Director remained a ghost, his chilling performance echoing in your minds with no clear identity. The tension from your argument in the office still lingered between you, a palpable, unspoken barrier. It hadn’t exploded again, but it hadn’t dissipated either; it was a tight, invisible wire you both navigated, working with it rather than through it, a constant hum beneath the surface of your strained collaboration. The exhaustion was a living entity, heavy in your bones, blurring the edges of your vision, making every thought feel like pushing through thick mud.

You had been hunched over the cold steel of your desk, eyes glazing over a cascade of digital files, for what felt like an eternity. The fluorescent lights hummed a monotonous lullaby of despair. Your head throbbed, a relentless drumbeat against your temples. The figures on the screen began to swim, blurring into an indistinguishable mass of data.

Your stomach, hollow and protesting, let out a pathetic growl. You finally pushed away from your chair, the screech of metal on linoleum a jarring sound in the quiet office. You stretched, your muscles screaming in protest, feeling the stiffness that had set in after countless hours of immobility. The windows showed the first faint blush of dawn, painting the Seoul skyline in hues of soft grey and pale pink. Six in the morning. You had been here all night, again.

"Cheol," you mumbled, your voice raspy, a mere whisper in the vast, empty office. He was still at his desk, his formidable concentration unbroken, a profile etched in grim determination. You could see the subtle slump of his shoulders, the way his hand rubbed his temple, betraying his own profound exhaustion. "I need food. My brain's turning to mush. We've been here all night. Do you want to grab something to eat? The CVS is probably open."

He grunted, a noncommittal sound, not looking up from the documents scattered across his desk. "I'm not hungry. You go."

Right on cue, as if betraying his stoic facade, his stomach let out a loud, indignant rumble, echoing through the silent office like a clap of thunder. He froze, his hand still hovering over a file, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

You couldn't help it. A small, tired giggle escaped your lips, a fragile bubble of humor in the oppressive atmosphere. It was a genuine sound, unexpected from you in his presence, and it seemed to crack the rigid shell around him. He slowly pushed back his chair, the wheels grating softly, avoiding your amused gaze. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, a rare moment of vulnerability. With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the last two weeks, he rose and strode out of the office, feigning indifference, and you followed, the lingering giggle still threatening to escape.

The CVS store was only a few blocks away, nestled in the main, bustling artery of Seoul. Even at this early hour, a few vendors were beginning to set up, their low voices a distant murmur. The walk was silent, the hum of the city a low backdrop to your shared fatigue, the morning air crisp and cool against your faces. The silence wasn’t comfortable, not yet. It was still heavy with the remnants of past arguments, with the unspoken burden of the case, and the strange, unwilling proximity that had been forced upon you. You kept a cautious distance, aware of his presence beside you, acutely aware of the space that still existed, a testament to your long-standing rivalry.

As you approached the convenience store, the bright neon glow of its sign a beacon in the pre-dawn light, a chilling sight stopped you both dead in your tracks. On the other side of the road, on a deserted sidewalk, lay another body. A stark, horrifying tableau presented itself on the cold pavement.

This was the third victim since y'll took the case. A young woman, later identified as a politician’s daughter, was found posed disturbingly in a public square at sunrise, her lifeless form arranged with a grotesque, almost artistic precision. The details were stomach-churning: her lungs, meticulously removed post-mortem, were not just placed, but arranged like macabre roses on her lap, a final, horrifying flourish from the killer. The scene was devoid of chaos, an eerie stillness that spoke of deliberate, unhurried action.

But it was the note, carefully pinned to her clothing, that sent a cold, agonizing shiver down your spine, colder than the morning air. Your name, stark and undeniable, stared back at you: “Detective Y/N, are you ready for your role?” The words were a direct address, a personal challenge, pulling you from the role of investigator into the terrifying spotlight of the victim. This wasn't a warning; it was an invitation to his next performance, and you were the unwilling star.

The wooden mask was there again, sitting eerily beside the body, its blank eyes seeming to pierce directly into your soul. But this time, unlike the church scene, there was no camera, no evidence of filming, no obvious trace of his presence beyond the note and the mask. He was adapting, changing his stage directions.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, his face hardening into a mask of grim resolve. He hadn't needed to read the note aloud; your gasp, your sudden rigidity, had told him everything. His gaze flickered from the note to you, then back to the mask, then to the vast, indifferent city around you. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that Y/N was a risk. A profound, protective instinct, raw and unbidden, surged through him, eclipsing every past animosity. The killer might go for you next. The Director was no longer an abstract entity; he was a direct threat, specifically targeting you.

That entire day unfolded under the shadow of this chilling realization. Seungcheol’s protective instincts, usually buried beneath layers of professional detachment, were on full display. He refused to let you out of his sight. When it was time for you to go home and freshen up, he insisted on driving you, the car ride permeated by a tense silence. He waited in the living room while you quickly showered and changed, his presence a heavy, unwavering anchor in your apartment. He then drove you straight back to the office, ensuring you weren't alone for a single moment, not even for the short commute. Only after you were safely back at your desk did he finally return to his own place to freshen up, returning within the hour, his eyes constantly tracking your movements.

You worked together, side-by-side, a silent, almost desperate efficiency guiding your actions. You tried to stay strong, to project the image of the unshakeable detective, but the words on that note echoed in your mind, a chilling mantra. You found yourself spacing out, your gaze unfocused, your thoughts drifting to the terrifying implication of being the killer's next target. Every time your concentration wavered, Seungcheol, with an almost uncanny awareness, would subtly shift, his presence a quiet anchor, his gaze a silent vigil, making sure you didn't leave his sight, making sure you didn't slip too far into the terrifying abyss of fear. He’d push a file closer, offer a quiet observation, anything to pull you back to the task, to keep you grounded.

The night deepened, wrapping the city in a cold, anxious blanket. The office was quiet again, most of the other detectives having retreated, leaving only you and Seungcheol amidst the dim glow of computer screens. The exhaustion was absolute, but the fear was sharper, more immediate. You still felt the tremor in your hands, the faint vibration that ran through your core. Seungcheol, having packed up his own things, gestured for you to do the same.

"This guy’s getting too close, Y/N," he said, his voice low, a rough rumble that seemed to vibrate with suppressed tension. His eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, were shadowed with a concern that was almost palpable. "Let me drive you home. Let me stay." It wasn’t a question; it was a quiet, firm declaration.

You hesitated. Every fiber of your being, every ingrained instinct for self-reliance and the desperate need to maintain your professional distance, screamed to refuse. To push him away. To insist you were fine. But the cold dread in your stomach, the image of your name on that note, the raw, visceral terror of being watched, overridden your stubborn pride. You knew. You knew, with a certainty that was both humiliating and profoundly unsettling, that it wasn't safe for you. Not tonight. Not after this. The words died on your tongue, replaced by a barely perceptible nod. "Fine," you murmured, the word a reluctant admission of vulnerability, "just… fine."

He parked in front of your apartment building, the familiar facade offering little comfort. Inside, he moved with a quiet, methodical efficiency. He locked every door, every window, testing them twice. Then, to your surprise, he began to subtly "set stuff around" – a chair angled just so against the door, a stack of books on the windowsill, mundane objects strategically placed to make noise if anyone tried to enter. It was a simple, old-school detective trick, a primal way to create an alarm system, and it spoke volumes about his deep-seated unease, his primal need to protect. You watched him, your fear a tangible weight in the air. You were visibly shaken, your body trembling with a fine tremor that you couldn't quite control. You knew you had signed up for this life, for the risks, for the nightmares. You knew you had to stay strong, and you were trying. Every ounce of your being was dedicated to holding yourself together, to not break down.

He finished his silent work, the apartment now a fortress, however flimsy against a determined killer. He turned to you, his gaze soft, surprisingly tender, devoid of judgment. He didn’t say anything. He didn't offer empty platitudes, didn't try to reason with your fear. He simply reached out, pulling you gently into his arms. For the first time, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness, no pushing away. His embrace was firm, comforting, a silent, solid anchor in the terrifying storm that raged within you. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, a stark contrast to your own frantic rhythm. In that quiet, terrifying night, surrounded by the unspoken threat outside, Seungcheol just held you. And for the very first time, the two of you didn't push each other away. You just leaned into the warmth, into the unexpected, raw comfort of his presence, seeking solace in the one person who understood the terrifying reality you now faced.

-----

The days blurred into weeks, and the weeks into a month, an indistinguishable stretch of relentless work and a strange, forced intimacy. The chilling note, "Detective Y/N, are you ready for your role?" had fundamentally altered the dynamics between you and Seungcheol. The grudging professional respect, born from shared peril, had deepened into an unspoken agreement of constant vigilance. He was always there. Sometimes, exhausted beyond measure, you found yourself waking in his bed, the morning light filtering through unfamiliar blinds. Other times, he would crash at your apartment, his presence a silent, reassuring anchor in the suffocating dread. Always together. The city breathed a collective sigh of relief as a full month, and then another week, passed without a new murder report. But for you and Seungcheol, this silence was not peace; it was fishy, a deceptive calm before an inevitable, more terrifying storm. The Director was merely orchestrating a long intermission, a strategic pause before his next, grander act.

You stirred from a deep, dreamless sleep, the unfamiliar weight of an arm locked around you. Seungcheol. He was still deep in slumber beside you, his breathing soft and even, his face, usually so taut with concentration, softened by sleep. Despite your lingering, deeply ingrained aversion to him, a flicker of warmth, an unsettling sense of comfort, spread through you. You still told yourself you hated him, despised him, that your rivalry was as fierce as ever. But in the quiet intimacy of his apartment, after weeks of shared terror and sleepless nights, you were undeniably, profoundly glad for his unwavering presence. He was a shield, an unexpected bulwark against the rising tide of fear.

Carefully, meticulously, you began to slip out from under his arm, your movements as silent and practiced as a shadow. You shifted your weight, easing your leg from beneath his, then slowly, painstakingly, lifted his arm from your waist. He mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, a soft sound, and you froze, your heart seizing. But he didn't stir further. Once free, you replaced your body with a pillow, tucking it gently against him, a silent, almost tender gesture that surprised even yourself. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, its screen glowing dimly in the pre-dawn light.

Your fingers instinctively navigated to the video file. The footage from the Gwanghwamun Church. The second victim, the praying marionette. You replayed it, your eyes scanning, your mind still searching for the invisible thread, the missed detail. The grainy images flickered across the screen: the suspended body, the killer's fleeting appearance, the chilling moment he pinned the note. You watched the killer's arm, the distinctive burnt patch, hoping for a clearer glimpse, a new angle. And then, as the killer moved slightly, just before he pinned the note, your gaze drifted past his arm, past the victim, to the background. The background. It looked… terrifyingly similar. A chill that had nothing to do with the cool morning air snaked down your spine. Your breath hitched. You’d been there before. Once. Years ago, with a colleague during a mundane, forgotten investigation. It was the underground base of the Premium Theater. A forgotten, derelict space back then, filled with dust and cobwebs, devoid of any hint of life. But now, it was imprinted on the killer's video.

You looked over at Seungcheol again. He was still asleep, a deep, exhausted sleep he hadn't known in weeks, dark smudges under his eyes a testament to the sleepless nights. He looked vulnerable, peaceful. You didn't want to disturb him, didn't want to break that rare moment of reprieve. You had to go. Alone.

You dressed quickly, pulling on the first practical clothes you could find, your movements swift and decisive. The urgency propelled you forward, an insistent whisper in your mind. Before you left, another strange, almost involuntary impulse guided your hand. You leaned down, hovering over him, then softly, tentatively, pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was fleeting, barely a touch, but the gesture itself was profound. Why did you care about HIM? You hated him… you despised him. The thoughts swirled, a chaotic storm in your mind, battling against the undeniable, quiet warmth that had settled in your chest. You pushed those confusing, contradictory thoughts away, shoved them deep down, and walked out the door, the click of the lock echoing in the silent apartment.

The underground space beneath the Premium Theater was exactly as you remembered it – dark, damp, and smelling of decay and forgotten dreams. But it was also horrifyingly transformed. The dust had been disturbed, the silence replaced by an unsettling aura. The walls, once bare concrete, were now lined with photos of the victims, each one meticulously arranged, posed like macabre rehearsals. Ji-eun, the first victim, a ghostly ballerina. The man from the church, a silent, suffering saint. The politician's daughter, a broken, beautiful sculpture. Each tableau a chilling re-enactment, captured in unsettling detail. And then, your breath hitched, a gasp caught in your throat. Among the gruesome collection, a photo of you. Posed in a way that mimicked the other victims, starkly stood out, a terrifying prophecy. He had been watching you. Watching your every move, planning your "role" in his twisted play.

Your gaze fell upon a stack of leather-bound journals. The killer’s journal. You pulled on your gloves, making sure to be meticulously careful, aware that every surface could hold a clue, a fingerprint, a strand of hair. You opened one. His handwriting was precise, almost elegant, but the words were a descent into madness. He called himself “The Director.” His entries detailed his "castings," his "rehearsals," his "performances." And then, a line that made your blood run cold, confirming your worst fears about your inclusion: “Detective Y/N, you remind me of Act I.” You were not merely a witness; you were part of his narrative, a recurring character from his past. You quickly snapped photos of the journal entries, of the photos on the walls, making sure to capture every detail.

As you moved around, your detective's eye scanning for any physical evidence, you noticed something else, something equally unsettling: no blood. Just like the first scene at the theatre, just like the church, there wasn't a single drop anywhere on the floor, on the walls, no staining, no residue. It was impossibly clean, defying the gruesome nature of the crimes. How was he doing this? Was he moving the bodies after they bled out? Or was there a ritual, a method, that prevented any spillage at the final staging? The question gnawed at you, amplifying the sense of unreality.

You were crouched, examining a collection of carefully labeled props, when a sudden, jarring sound echoed through the underground space. The heavy metallic clang of the access door being violently shoved open. You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat.

Seungcheol. His face was a mask of unadulterated fury, his eyes blazing, a dangerous storm brewing behind them. He took one look at you, alone in the killer’s lair, and surged forward. Before you could even utter a sound, he grabbed your arm, his grip like a vice, and practically dragged you out of the theatre’s underground base, his movements swift and brutal. He didn't slow, didn't release his grip until he had you in the backseat of his car, shoving you in with a force that left you momentarily breathless. He slammed the door shut, rounded the car, and got into the driver’s seat, slamming that door too. The engine roared to life, and he drove straight to the office, the tires squealing as he pulled away from the curb.

The car ride was silent, a suffocating silence more terrifying than any shouting. You tried to explain, to tell him what you'd found, the photos on the walls, the journal, your own picture. "Seungcheol, I found his journal! He calls himself–"

"Shut it, Y/N," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that cut you off mid-sentence. He didn’t even look at you, his eyes fixed on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

You tried again, a desperate urgency in your voice. "But Seungcheol, my picture! He's been watching me, he called me 'Act I'–"

This time, he didn't bother with words. He merely flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror, his eyes burning with an intensity you had never witnessed before. It was a single, furious glare, but it was enough. It sliced through your words, through your bravado, through your very will to speak. You had never seen him so angry, so utterly consumed by a cold, terrifying rage. The glare was enough to shut you up, your throat closing, your words dying, leaving only the frantic beat of your heart.

He parked the car haphazardly outside the precinct, not bothering to find a proper spot. He strode in, his movements stiff and purposeful, ignoring everyone who greeted him, the other detectives and uniformed officers quickly parting ways as they sensed the dark cloud hanging over him. You followed him, feeling the curious, slightly alarmed stares of your colleagues, mumbling apologies on his behalf as you walked into your shared office. He didn't even bother to turn around, his back to you, rigid with fury.

"Seungch–" you began again, desperate to explain, to make him understand that your solo venture had yielded crucial information.

He didn't even bother to let you finish. Before you could take another step, he spun around, his face a mask of incandescent rage, and you were suddenly, violently, pinned to the wall. His hands were on either side of your head, bracing against the cold plaster, effectively trapping you. His body was close, too close, vibrating with suppressed fury. He exploded, his voice a low, furious growl that seemed to vibrate through your very bones.

"Are you out of your damn mind, Y/N?! What the hell were you thinking?! You went in without backup! Without telling anyone! You could have walked into a damn trap! He’s looking for you, he's targeting you, and you just waltz in there like a sacrificial lamb?! Do you have a death wish?!" His grip on your chin was firm, almost bruising, forcing your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His gaze burned into yours, a desperate, raw anger. "Don't you ever go without a fucking backup, Y/N!"

You nodded, wide-eyed, shocked by the sheer intensity of his anger, by the raw fear that laced his voice. The force of his words, the desperation in his eyes, rendered you speechless. He held your chin for another long moment, his chest heaving, his anger slowly, visibly deflating, replaced by a profound weariness he let go of your chin. His forehead fell to your shoulder, his breath ragged, a desperate sigh escaping him. And then, the confession, raw and unbidden, slipped out, a broken whisper that seemed to echo in the sudden, heavy silence of the office. “I can’t do this case if you’re not breathing, Y/N….”

The words hit you with the force of a physical blow. All the anger, the rivalry, the professional distance, seemed to melt away, leaving only a startling vulnerability. His admission, stark and painful, spoke of a fear far deeper than any professional concern. Your hand, almost instinctively, reached up, your fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his head, your touch gentle, a silent acknowledgment of the raw emotion he had just laid bare. The moment hung there, thick with unspoken feelings, with the sudden, terrifying realization of what his words truly meant, what your connection had become.

BACK TO WORK.

The unspoken command hung in the air, a necessary return to the grim reality. You pulled away slightly, gently, your hand still lingering on his head for a moment before dropping. Your eyes met, a shared understanding passing between you that bypassed words. The moment of raw vulnerability had passed, but something fundamental had shifted.

You began to speak, your voice steadier now, recounting everything you saw in the underground theatre. "He calls himself 'The Director.' The walls are lined with pictures of the victims, posed like rehearsals. And my picture, Seungcheol. He has a picture of me, posed like them. And in his journal… he wrote that I 'remind him of Act I.'" You showed him the photos you’d taken on your phone, the eerie tableaux, the chilling journal entries. "And there was no blood, Seungcheol. Just like the theatre. No blood at all in the entire space."

You were back at work, the cases and evidence spread out before you, the computer screens casting their pale glow over your faces. The facts, grim and undeniable, were laid bare. But the feelings between you two were anything but orderly. They were a messy, tangled knot of fear, anger, grudging respect, and a newly acknowledged, terrifying tenderness. The boundaries had blurred, irrevocably. The Director's play had just taken an unexpected, deeply personal turn for both of you.

The weeks that followed the chilling encounter in the Premium Theater’s underground base, and Seungcheol’s raw, unexpected confession, had been a tense, volatile truce. The boundaries between you had irrevocably blurred, replaced by a complex tapestry of professional obligation, shared fear, and a nascent, terrifying tenderness that neither of you dared to acknowledge aloud. The Director’s chilling game, however, had gone quiet. A full month and a week had passed without a new murder, a lull that felt less like peace and more like the ominous silence before a storm. You and Seungcheol had worked relentlessly, poring over every detail of the killer’s journal, every photo, every piece of fragmented evidence, trying to decipher his twisted "Acts" and his personal connection to your past. The silence was unnerving, an agonizing wait for the curtain to rise on his next, unpredictable performance.

That night, the quiet was shattered. Not by a phone call to a distant crime scene, but by a frantic, breathless shout from just outside the precinct. The irony was a bitter taste in your mouth, a cruel twist of the knife. The killer hadn't chosen a remote, theatrical stage this time; he had chosen the very doorstep of law enforcement.

A fourth victim was found, not dead, but left alive—barely. He lay crumpled in the narrow alleyway directly behind the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency building, a grim, defiant tableau just steps from the very heart of the investigation. The air was thick with the scent of fear and something metallic. You and Seungcheol were among the first officers to reach him, pushing through the stunned onlookers and uniformed police. He was a man in his late twenties, his body contorted in a way that suggested agonizing torture, yet his eyes, wide with terror, still held a flicker of life. He was bleeding, heavily, from multiple lacerations, but it was his posture, his hands reaching out as if grasping for a lifeline, that spoke of a deep, psychological torment. He was a survivor, a witness, and therefore, an immediate, invaluable, and terrifying lead.

You dropped to your knees beside him, Seungcheol mirroring your action, both of you keenly aware of the urgency, the fragile thread of life clinging to the man. Your medical training kicked in instinctively; you assessed his breathing, his pulse, the worst of the wounds. "Paramedics! Now!" Seungcheol's voice, usually so controlled, was sharp with urgency. As a medic worked to stabilize the man, your eyes locked onto his face, desperate for any information. His lips moved, barely, a faint rasp against the harsh whisper of the night air. You leaned closer, straining to hear, your ear almost touching his trembling mouth. He was trying to speak, desperate to convey a message before the darkness claimed him.

He whispered, his voice a ragged, terrified gasp, each syllable a monumental effort, “He… he said… I was off-script…”

The words were barely audible, but they hit you with the force of a physical blow. "Off-script." The Director. This was his language, his lexicon of terror. Seungcheol, leaning in from the other side, heard it too. His eyes, already grim, darkened further. The message was clear, chillingly so: this victim had failed the Director’s expectations, had deviated from his meticulously planned performance. He was a testament to the killer's escalating cruelty, a live message meant to terrorize not just the city, but you.

Back in a hastily secured interview room at the precinct, the atmosphere was suffocating. The paramedics had done their best, but the victim's condition was critical, his life hanging by a thread. He was delirious, his body wracked with pain and shock. He mumbled incoherently, fragments of terror, but his whispered message, "off-script," resonated with unnerving clarity in your minds.

You and Seungcheol stood, leaning against a cold metal table, the sterile scent of antiseptic mingling with the lingering coppery tang of blood. The sheer audacity of the killer, leaving a victim barely alive right behind police headquarters, was a slap in the face, a direct challenge.

"He's escalating," you stated, your voice low, your gaze fixed on the closed door behind which the survivor lay. Your mind was racing, trying to process this new, terrifying development. "Leaving him alive… it's not a mistake. It's a statement. A deliberate choice."

Seungcheol nodded slowly, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture rigid. "A message to us. To the entire department. To you." His eyes flickered to yours, the unspoken weight of the last note, your name, hanging between you. "He's getting bolder. More confident."

"Sloppier, maybe?" you countered, running a hand through your hair, a nervous habit. "Taking more risks? Leaving a live witness? That's a huge gamble, even for him. Or is it a calculated risk? A way to prove his superiority, to show he can do anything, even under our noses?" You paced a few steps, the arguments forming in your head. "If he leaves a live witness, it means he's either incredibly arrogant, or he thinks the message itself is more important than the risk of being caught."

"Arrogance, certainly," Seungcheol murmured, his gaze distant, processing. "But perhaps not sloppiness in the way we usually perceive it. This isn't a slip-up; it's an escalation of his 'performance.' He’s not just killing his ‘actors’ anymore; he’s now publicly humiliating them, making an example of them. He’s pushing the boundaries, testing us, taunting us. He wants us to see his work, to hear his message directly. It feeds his ego, his 'Director' complex."

You stopped pacing, nodding slowly. "So, the 'off-script' line isn't just about the victim's failure; it's about our failure too. He's telling us we're not following his script. He knows we're close, or he thinks we're close enough to understand his twisted meaning. He's turning up the heat."

The conversation was interrupted by a commotion from the interview room. A nurse's frantic cry. The door burst open, and a junior officer stumbled out, his face ashen, gagging. You and Seungcheol exchanged a look of pure dread.

Before you could even react, before you could take a single step towards the room, a horrifying, visceral sound erupted from within – a sudden, wet gurgle, followed by a sickening thud. Then, silence. A terrible silence.

You and Seungcheol reached the doorway simultaneously, pushing past the frozen officers. The scene inside was a nightmare. The survivor, in a desperate, final act, had seized a piece of broken equipment – a medical clamp, a discarded shard of something – and had plunged it into his own throat. He lay on the floor, convulsing for a brief, agonizing moment. And then, he stilled.

The worst part: the sudden, violent surge of blood. It erupted from his throat, a thick, dark geyser that sprayed outwards, a horrifying crimson arc against the sterile off-white walls. Both you and Seungcheol, standing closest, were caught directly in its path. The hot, sticky liquid splattered across your faces, your clothes, your hands. It dripped from your hair, ran down your cheeks, stinging your eyes. The metallic tang filled your nostrils, overwhelming everything else.

The shock was absolute, primal. The sight of a life, so recently clinging to a fragile thread, extinguished so brutally, so deliberately, and the sickening sensation of the victim’s own blood soaking into your skin, left you reeling. The air was thick with the silent screams of the traumatized junior officers, the hushed whispers of horror from the paramedics, and the profound, gut-wrenching despair that permeated the room.

That brutal, self-inflicted act, the blood still wet on your faces, left Seungcheol and you, and indeed the entire department, fully, utterly disturbed. It was a violation not just of the victim, but of every single person who witnessed it. The weight of it was suffocating. The killer had managed to reach inside their very sanctuary, their place of supposed safety, and orchestrate a final, devastating act of despair, turning their only live witness into another casualty, another ghost.

The Captain’s office was a cold, sterile box, the polished table reflecting your grim faces. Captain Kim sat opposite you, his expression a tight mask of disapproval and deep frustration. The news of the survivor's suicide, the bloodbath in the interview room, had spread like wildfire through the department, eroding morale and confidence. His gaze was sharp, accusatory, landing heavily on both you and Seungcheol.

"This is unacceptable," he stated, his voice low, but vibrating with barely suppressed fury. "A live witness, murdered inside our own building, under our own watch. This is a complete failure, Detectives. A catastrophic failure." He leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. "I put my faith in you two. I chose you despite your… historical differences, because I believed you were the only ones who could crack this psychopath. But now…" He trailed off, his eyes narrowing.

He paused, letting his words hang in the air, the full weight of his disappointment pressing down on you both. Then, he delivered the ultimatum, his voice steely, devoid of any leniency. "If you don't find this killer, if you don't bring him in, and soon, I will have no choice. I will be forced to give this case to someone else. Regardless of your past achievements, regardless of your so-called 'unique insights.' This cannot continue. The city is in a panic, the media is demanding answers, and we are losing control."

You and Seungcheol stood side by side, heads bowed, silent. There was nothing to say. No excuses, no deflections. The shame, the frustration, the deep, abiding failure to protect the victim, weighed heavily on both your shoulders. You simply nodded, a silent, mutual acknowledgment of the immense pressure, the ticking clock. The case, your careers, perhaps even your lives, now hung in the balance.

The city felt colder that night, heavier, burdened by the day’s horrors. You were back at your apartment, the silence inside a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed the precinct. The first thing you did was strip off your blood-splattered clothes, the sticky, cold feel of it on your skin making your stomach lurch. You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over you, scrubbing frantically, trying to wash away not just the blood, but the memory, the chill of it seeping into your very bones. You scrubbed until your skin was raw, but the phantom touch of that final, horrifying spray lingered.

You emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, feeling raw, exposed, and utterly, profoundly exhausted. The tremor you had felt earlier was now a full-blown shake, your hands trembling uncontrollably, your knees threatening to buckle. You walked into the living room, intending to find some clean clothes, but froze. Seungcheol was there. He had let himself in, probably with the spare key you’d given him weeks ago, an unspoken agreement in the face of the killer’s targeting of you. He was sitting on your sofa, still in his blood-stained clothes, staring blankly ahead, his face pale and drawn, his own shock palpable.

He must have heard you. He turned, his gaze sweeping over you, his eyes immediately catching the uncontrolled trembling in your hands, the pallor of your skin, the vulnerability in your stance. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watched you, his expression softening from its earlier, grim mask. He slowly pushed himself up from the sofa, his movements stiff, and walked towards you.

Without a word, he reached out, gently taking your shaking hands in his. His grip was firm, warm, a stark contrast to your own icy fingers. Your hands were still visibly trembling, the tremor echoing throughout your body. He held them, not trying to stop the shaking, but simply offering a steady anchor. His eyes, dark with shared trauma, met yours.

“You don’t have to be strong for me, Y/N,” he said, his voice a low, rough murmur, barely above a whisper. It was an unexpected kindness, a profound understanding that cut through all the layers of your professional rivalry, all the years of competition. He wasn’t asking you to be the unshakeable detective, the impenetrable mind. He was simply acknowledging your pain, your fear, your humanity. He was telling you it was okay to break, just for a moment, in his presence. The words were a balm, a quiet permission to simply feel the terror that had been building inside you.

You didn't answer, couldn't. You just looked at him, your eyes wide, unshed tears blurring your vision. He held your gaze, his own eyes mirroring the exhaustion, the horror, the deep weariness. The tremor in your hands slowly, imperceptibly, lessened, not because the fear was gone, but because you were no longer fighting to hide it.

That night, the cold reality of the case, the horrifying image of the survivor's last act, pressed down on you both. The argument with the Captain, the chilling ultimatum – it all converged into an unbearable weight. You lay together in your bed, not speaking, the silence a shared understanding of profound trauma. He pulled you close, his arm wrapping around you, and you instinctively curled into him, burying your face against his chest. His heartbeat was a slow, steady rhythm, a comforting counterpoint to the racing pulse in your own ears. He smelled faintly of the hospital, of blood, and something uniquely Seungcheol even after the shower – his scent maybe his perfume or whatever it was, despite everything, had become strangely comforting. He had become comforting. And you knew you were falling.

You didn't fight it, didn't question it. You simply clung to the warmth, the solid presence beside you. His fingers gently stroked your hair, a soft, soothing gesture. Neither of you said anything about the shift, the collapse of your long-standing animosity. The exhaustion was too deep, the shared trauma too raw. For the first time, you didn't feel alone against the creeping dread of the Director. You didn't push each other away. Instead, you found a strange, desperate solace in the close proximity, the quiet comfort of shared fear and unspoken longing. Cradled in his arms, you both finally succumbed to sleep, finding a fragile peace in the darkness, side by side. The Director's game had indeed escalated, but so had the bond between the two detectives tasked with stopping him.

The fragile peace found in each other's arms, a desperate solace against the terror of the man who had killed himself, and was brutally short-lived. The shared warmth, the quiet comfort, evaporated with the first rays of the dawn, replaced by a cold dread that clung to your skin. You woke before Seungcheol, the weight of his arm still a familiar anchor around you, but your mind was already racing, the recent horror of the survivor’s suicide burning vividly behind your eyelids. The Captain’s ultimatum, his icy disapproval, echoed in your thoughts. You knew the clock was ticking, not just on the case, but on your very involvement.

You disentangled yourself from his embrace, carefully, so as not to disturb his heavy sleep. He had barely rested in weeks again, and even this brief reprieve felt stolen, precious. You moved silently through the apartment, the early morning quiet broken only by the distant hum of the city beginning to stir. The lingering metallic tang of blood seemed to cling to everything, a phantom scent that wouldn't wash away.

You were halfway through preparing a rushed, lukewarm coffee, trying to gather your thoughts before the onslaught of another grueling day, when the call came. It wasn’t a precinct alert, not a general broadcast. It was a direct call to your secured line, bypassing the usual channels, hinting at an urgency, a personal gravity that made your blood run cold even before you answered. You picked up, your voice tight, sensing the shift in the universe around you. The voice on the other end was clipped, strained, an officer you knew well, but whose tone was now laced with an almost disbelieving horror.

The words hit you like a physical blow, stripping the air from your lungs. Fifth murder. The victim's name, whispered grimly, resonated through the phone, vibrating in your bones. Retired Detective Lee Chang-min. Your mind reeled. Detective Lee. Not just any retired detective. He was a legend, a mentor to so many, a towering figure in the police academy. But more than that, he was Seungcheol’s old mentor. The man who had guided his first steps in the force, who had championed his quiet brilliance, who had been a surrogate father figure in his formative years. The one person Seungcheol spoke of with uncharacteristic warmth, a rare glimpse into the fiercely guarded corners of his heart.

A choked sound escaped your throat. You didn’t even think. You just ran. Ran to the bedroom, throwing open the door. Seungcheol was still asleep, a peaceful, unsuspecting silhouette against the pale light. You reached for him, shaking his shoulder roughly, the words tumbling out of you in a strangled gasp. "Seungcheol! Wake up! It's… it’s Detective Lee. He’s… he’s gone. Murdered."

His eyes snapped open, a sudden, disoriented clarity in their depths. For a moment, he didn't comprehend, his mind still clouded by sleep. But then, the raw, unvarnished horror on your face, the tremor in your voice, slowly registered. He bolted upright, his mind catching up to the devastating truth. "No. No, it can't be. Lee-sunbaenim?" His voice was barely a whisper, thick with disbelief.

You nodded, tears already stinging your own eyes, a profound empathy overwhelming you. You had seen the worst of humanity in this job, but this was different. This was personal, a direct, cruel blow aimed squarely at him. The Director wasn't just killing actors; he was destroying the support system of those trying to stop him.

The crime scene was a muted horror, a stark contrast to the theatrical flamboyance of the previous ones. It was Lee’s small, unassuming apartment, quiet, almost reverent in its stillness, save for the hushed, grim movements of the forensic team. The body lay on the worn rug of his living room, no wires, no grand suspension, but a chilling intimacy in the setting. It felt less like a stage and more like a final, private execution.

Seungcheol broke down. He saw his mentor, lying there, lifeless, and a guttural cry tore from his throat. It was raw, unadulterated grief, a sound of pure agony that you rarely heard from anyone, least of all from the perpetually controlled Choi Seungcheol. His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, oblivious to the other officers, oblivious to everything but the crushing weight of his loss. His face was contorted, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands clenching into fists, trembling with a fury so profound it seemed to vibrate the very air. He buried his face in his hands, his body wracked with violent sobs, each one a testament to the depth of his bond with the man who lay before him.

You didn't hesitate. You dropped to your knees beside him, wrapping your arms around his shaking frame. He was rigid at first, resisting, his body taut with pain and disbelief. But you held him tighter, pulling him against you, letting him lean into your embrace. You felt his body shake, the tremors transferring to you, mixing with your own rising anguish. You held him through it, stroking his hair, murmuring soft, meaningless reassurances, offering what little comfort you could against the overwhelming tide of his despair. His tears soaked your shoulder, hot and relentless. He clung to you, his grip desperate, as if you were the only anchor left in a world that had suddenly tilted off its axis. For the first time, all walls between you crumbled, replaced by the raw, undeniable humanity of shared grief and desperate need. You were no longer just colleagues; you were two shattered souls clinging to each other in the face of unspeakable horror.

A detective, grim-faced, approached, holding a small, folded piece of paper. The killer’s signature. You gently disentangled yourself from Seungcheol, who remained slumped against the wall, his sobs subsiding into ragged breaths. The officer handed you the note. It was personal, chillingly so. Addressed directly to Seungcheol, a cruel mockery of the mentor’s legacy: “He taught you wrong. I’ll rewrite you.” It was a direct declaration of war, a promise to dismantle Seungcheol, piece by painful piece, starting with the very foundations of his training, his identity. The Director was not just avenging; he was indoctrinating, claiming Seungcheol as his next, most crucial, character.

The rest of the morning was a blur of interviews, forensics, and the numbing efficiency of police procedure. Seungcheol remained largely unresponsive, a hollow shell. He answered questions mechanically, his eyes distant, his grief a heavy shroud around him. You handled the rest, directing the teams, coordinating the search for new leads, all while keeping a constant, watchful eye on him. You felt the raw edge of your own emotions, but you pushed them down, focusing on the task, on being strong for him, even as your own heart ached with a profound sense of injustice.

As the afternoon wore on, a different kind of dread began to settle. You realized Seungcheol was gone. He had simply disappeared from the precinct, slipping away unnoticed in the controlled chaos. A cold knot formed in your stomach. You overheard a hushed conversation between two junior officers near the coffee machine. "…think he went to that place again. The one near Gangnam…"

A terrible certainty washed over you. That place. You knew exactly which one. The club. The same one he'd frequented since your university days, a dark, pulsing escape from the pressures of life, where he would drown his sorrows in anonymity and cheap whiskey. He hadn't been there in months, not since the case began, not since… since your forced proximity. But now, with the devastating loss of his mentor, you knew he would seek oblivion there. The memory of his vulnerability earlier, his shattered composure, filled you with a desperate urgency. This wasn't just about finding a missing detective; it was about saving a man on the brink.

The club was exactly as you remembered it – dark, loud, reeking of stale beer and desperation. The pulsing bass vibrated through the floor, a chaotic counterpoint to the quiet despair you carried. You pushed through the throngs of dancing bodies, your eyes scanning the dim corners, the crowded bar. And there he was. Slumped at a secluded booth, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, his tie askew, his usually immaculate hair falling across his forehead. His eyes, when he finally looked up at you, were bloodshot, unfocused, clouded by alcohol and raw, incandescent pain.

You walked straight up to him, your expression grim. "Seungcheol. We're leaving. Now."

He squinted at you, a slow, drunken smile spreading across his face, devoid of mirth. "Y/N? My knight in shining… well, something. Came to rescue the damsel in distress, eh?" His voice was slurred, laced with a bitter sarcasm that cut deep.

"Don't be an idiot," you said, reaching for his arm. "You're coming home. You're drunk. You're not stable."

He pulled his arm away, his eyes suddenly flashing with a dangerous anger, fueled by grief and liquor. "Stable? Stable?! My mentor is dead, Y/N! Murdered! By that bastard! And you want me to be stable?! What kind of machine do you think I am?!"

You grabbed his arm again, firmer this time. "A detective. And a human being who needs to mourn, but not like this. Not here." You began to pull him up, but he resisted, a surprising strength in his drunken state.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, pushing you away with unexpected force. He stumbled, almost falling, but caught himself, bracing against the table. The anger in his eyes was replaced by a raw, profound despair. "He taught me everything, Y/N. Everything! And I couldn't protect him. The Director… he's just playing with us. He's right. He taught me wrong. I'm a failure." His voice broke on the last word, choked with self-loathing.

You stared at him, your heart aching with a pain that wasn't entirely your own. The grief, the self-recrimination, the sheer, unadulterated vulnerability in his eyes was overwhelming. He wasn't the impenetrable Seungcheol you knew. He was a broken man, exposed and raw.

"You are not a failure, Seungcheol," you said, your voice low, trying to reach through the drunken haze, through the wall of his despair. "This isn't on you. This is on him. And we will get him."

He laughed, a harsh, broken sound that held no humor. "Will we? He's rewriting me, Y/N. He said so. 'I'll rewrite you.' And he's starting with erasing everyone I care about." His gaze sharpened, locking onto yours, fueled by alcohol and a desperate, confused longing. "Maybe… maybe this is what he wants. To break me down. To make me… like him."

The tension in the booth was suffocating. He leaned in, his face close to yours, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath. His eyes, usually so clear and controlled, were wild, a desperate fire burning within their depths. "You don't understand," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "what it's like… to lose everything. To feel so helpless. So… alone."

And then, fueled by grief, by alcohol, by the raw, unspoken longing that had been building between you for weeks, the tension exploded into a rough, breathless kiss. His lips crashed down on yours, desperate, uninhibited, tasting of whiskey and tears. It was a chaotic, almost violent embrace, born of despair and a desperate need for connection. He pulled you closer, his hands grasping your face, his fingers tangling in your hair, deepening the kiss, pouring all his anguish into it.

For a moment, you responded, lost in the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it, the desperate heat, the raw emotion. It was primal, visceral, a moment divorced from logic or consequence. But then, a cold clarity cut through the haze. This wasn't him. Not truly. This was his grief, his drunken emotions, his shattering pain seeking an outlet, a comfort, any comfort. This was not the confession of a clear mind, not the delicate blossoming of a conscious choice. This was regret, shame, and unspoken longing, warped by alcohol and overwhelming trauma. You knew. You knew this might be his drunk emotions, and acting on them now would only deepen the regret for both of you later.

With a sudden, decisive surge of strength, you pushed him off. He stumbled back, his eyes wide, confused, the daze of alcohol mixing with a dawning realization of what he had done. The kiss ended as abruptly as it began, leaving behind a profound silence, thick with shame and unspoken words. His face, still flushed from the alcohol, was now etched with a raw, mortified regret.

You stared at each other across the small booth, the pulsating music of the club a distant, meaningless thrum. The unspoken longing that had simmered between you for so long, now brutally exposed in that rough, breathless moment, hung in the air, heavy and painful.

You finally broke the silence, your voice tight, strained. "We're leaving." Your tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. You grabbed his arm again, this time he didn't resist. He allowed you to half-drag, half-support him out of the chaotic club, into the cool, biting night air.

The car ride back to your apartment was a suffocating silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts, replaying the scene, the kiss, the raw exposure. You pulled into your building's parking lot, the familiar space offering no comfort. You helped him stumble into your apartment, guiding him towards the sofa. He mumbled something, a broken apology, but you didn't acknowledge it. You simply helped him lie down, throwing a blanket over him, and turned away.

That night, the bed felt cold, empty, a vast expanse of loneliness. You slept on the couch, the worn cushions offering little comfort. The memory of his lips on yours, rough and desperate, was branded onto your mind, a bitter reminder of a boundary crossed, of emotions unleashed in a moment of utter vulnerability and despair. The shame was suffocating, the regret profound. You couldn't sleep, your mind replaying the scene, the stark realization that you were teetering on a precipice, not just with the case, but with the man sleeping, or perhaps not sleeping, on your sofa. The Director's game was not only about victims; it was about unraveling the minds of those trying to stop him, twisting their emotions, and throwing them into chaos. And in that moment, he had succeeded, leaving behind not just a dead mentor, but a shattered, complicated dynamic between the only two people who could stop him.

-----

The first light of dawn, pale and hesitant, crept through the blinds of your living room, illuminating the quiet aftermath of a night steeped in raw grief and unsettling intimacy. You had spent the night on the couch, the worn fabric offering little comfort, but the distance felt necessary, a fragile barrier against the emotional wreckage of the previous evening. The memory of Seungcheol’s desperate kiss, fueled by despair and alcohol, still burned on your lips, a bitter brand. The shame, the regret, the sudden, brutal exposure of a longing you had both fiercely suppressed, hung heavy in the air.

You heard a stirring from the sofa. Seungcheol. You tensed, bracing yourself for the inevitable awkwardness, the unspoken weight of what had transpired. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his movements stiff, almost hesitant. The dark smudges under his eyes were more pronounced, but the wild, desperate fire that had consumed them hours earlier had been extinguished, replaced by a dull ache, a profound weariness. He was sober now, or at least, significantly more so, and the clarity seemed to bring with it a wave of fresh mortification.

He turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the room, finally landing on you. His eyes held a mixture of deep shame, lingering pain, and something akin to quiet desperation. He pushed himself off the sofa, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a skittish animal. He stopped a few feet from you, his hands shoved into his pockets, his posture reflecting a hesitant vulnerability you rarely saw.

“Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, rough, a testament to the tears and the alcohol of the night before. He swallowed, visibly struggling to find the right words, to navigate the immense chasm that had opened between you. “About last night… I… I’m so sorry. I was… I was out of line. I was drunk, I was grieving, and I… I lost control. It shouldn’t have happened. I deeply, deeply apologize.” The words were strained, heartfelt, laced with a raw regret that pierced through your own guarded defenses. He didn't offer excuses, didn't try to blame the alcohol entirely; he simply accepted responsibility, a rare and profound gesture from the usually unyielding Seungcheol. He looked directly at you, his gaze unwavering despite the shame, waiting for your response, for your condemnation.

You looked back at him, your own heart a tangled mess of conflicting emotions. Anger, frustration, embarrassment… but also a strange, unexpected pang of empathy. You saw the genuine pain in his eyes, the self-loathing. It wasn't just remorse for the kiss; it was a profound apology for his entire collapse, for exposing his deepest vulnerability. You knew his words were sincere, that he was trying to mend something irrevocably broken.

“It’s… it’s fine, Seungcheol,” you managed, your voice softer than you intended, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. But a part of you couldn't bear to add to his already crushing burden. “We both… we were both pushed to the edge. It was a moment of… weakness. For both of us.” You didn't acknowledge the shared longing, the raw attraction that had been momentarily unleashed. You focused on the trauma, the stress, the exhaustion, the only acceptable explanations for such a breach of your carefully constructed walls.

He nodded slowly, a deep, shuddering breath escaping him, as if a great weight had been lifted, however momentarily. He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing away the lingering fatigue and despair. He was still reeling from his mentor’s death, from the Director’s chilling message, and from his own humiliating fall from control. But now, he was way more stable, the raw edges of his grief softened by a night of uneasy sleep, and perhaps, by your reluctant forgiveness.

He walked over to the armchair, slumping into it, his shoulders still hunched. You moved to the kitchen, resuming your task of making coffee, the mundane act a welcome distraction. The silence stretched, uncomfortable but less volatile than before. Then, he spoke, his voice low, almost contemplative, laced with a vulnerability that tugged at something deep within you.

He began to tell you about his mentor, Detective Lee Chang-min. He spoke about him not just as a superior officer, but as a genuine friend, a guiding light who had seen something in a young, introverted Seungcheol that others had missed. “Lee-sunbaenim,” he began, his voice thick with emotion, but clearer now, no longer slurred by alcohol, “he treated me like a son, Y/N. Not just a student. He… he saw me. He didn’t just teach me procedures; he taught me how to think, how to see the patterns others couldn’t. He taught me how to trust my instincts, even when they went against the grain.” His gaze drifted to a distant point, lost in memory. “He was the one who encouraged me to pursue the criminal psychology specialization, even when everyone else said it was ‘too theoretical’ for police work. He said it was about understanding the ‘why,’ not just the ‘what.’ He said true justice meant dissecting the mind of the perpetrator, not just catching them. He stood by me, defended me, when I made my first big mistakes. He never judged. He only guided.”

He continued, his voice wavering occasionally, painting a vivid picture of the man he had lost. “He used to take me fishing on his days off, even though I hated fishing. Just to talk. To listen. He helped me through my toughest times at the academy, through family struggles. He believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. He was a rock, Y/N. Unshakeable. And now… now he’s gone. Because of him. Because of me.” His voice cracked on the last word, the grief returning in a fresh, sharp wave. “And that note… ‘He taught you wrong. I’ll rewrite you.’ It’s like he’s trying to erase everything Lee-sunbaenim gave me. To corrupt his memory. To break me down piece by piece. He’s taking everything, Y/N. Everything.” His fists clenched, a raw, silent fury battling with the profound sorrow.

You listened carefully, silently, letting him vent, letting the raw grief pour out of him. You didn't interrupt, didn't offer empty platitudes. You simply sat, your own mug of coffee cooling in your hands, offering the silent, unwavering presence he needed. You watched the pain etched on his face, the slow, agonizing process of him grappling with a loss so profound it threatened to shatter his very foundation. For the first time, you saw past the rivalry, past the stoicism, to the deeply human core of him. And in that quiet space, your understanding of Seungcheol deepened, evolving beyond the confines of competition and mutual dislike. You saw his humanity, his vulnerability, and a quiet, fierce empathy blossomed in your own heart.

The morning bled into afternoon, then evening, a relentless cycle of work. The grief remained, a heavy shroud, but it no longer paralyzed him. Driven by a grim determination, fueled by a desire for vengeance for Lee-sunbaenim, Seungcheol threw himself into the case with an almost frightening intensity. You worked alongside him, matching his furious pace, sifting through mountains of old papers, archived police reports, newspaper clippings, anything that might connect the victims. He pulled every dusty box from the precinct archives, every neglected cold case file, convinced that if the Director was so meticulously "rewriting" his past, then his past had to be hidden somewhere in the city's forgotten records. You ordered every digital archive of Seoul's cultural events from the last decade, every theater production, every concert, every play – successful or failed.

It was late, the precinct office almost deserted again, save for the two of you and the hum of the fluorescent lights. You were both slumped over separate desks, surrounded by mountains of paper, discarded coffee cups, and the stale smell of desperation. Seungcheol, with a frustrated groan, pushed aside a pile of unrelated files. His fingers, numb from hours of flipping through pages, brushed against a dusty, unassuming folder at the bottom of the stack. It was a thin, old file, labeled simply: "Seongsan Arts Center - Incident Report - 20XX." Something about the date, the name, nagged at him. He pulled it out, his brow furrowed in concentration.

He opened it, and as his eyes scanned the faded print, his body stiffened. A sudden, sharp intake of breath. He was no longer slumped; he was ramrod straight, his eyes wide, fixed on the page. “Y/N,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, yet vibrating with a profound shock, a terrible realization. “Y/N, I found the one.”

You looked up, startled by the intensity in his voice. You watched as he pulled out a faded program, a stack of cast lists, and a series of police reports from within the folder. He laid them out on the desk, his hands trembling slightly.

A new clue emerged, chilling and undeniable. His finger traced names on the cast list, then moved to the victim profiles you had pinned to the wall. “Ji-eun… she was listed as an understudy, though the program says ‘chorus member.’ The church victim… he was the stage manager. The politician’s daughter… her father was a major investor, pushing for the production.” His voice gained a desperate urgency, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a horrifying inevitability. “Lee-sunbaenim… he was assigned to the initial complaints about the production, the financial irregularities, the on-set accidents.”

He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with a mix of horror and triumph. “Every victim,” he stated, his voice hushed, “every single one of them, had a connection to this. To a failed local play from four years ago—The Crimson Mask. All of them were either in it, or intimately involved in its spectacular shutdown.”

The realization hit you like a thunderclap, echoing your own earlier, wild theory, but now grounded in concrete evidence. The Director. This wasn't just about random "roles"; it was about specific, predefined roles in a long-forgotten tragedy. You realized with a sickening clarity: the killer is avenging something from that production’s cancellation. The play, The Crimson Mask, had been notoriously troubled: accusations of fraud, a leading actor injured on set, unexplained delays, spiraling budgets, and ultimately, a spectacular, very public cancellation just days before its grand opening. It had been a scandal that briefly dominated local headlines, then faded into obscurity. But for someone, it was still a live wound, festering, demanding retribution. The Director’s notes, his theatrical staging, his “acts” and “performances”—it all suddenly made horrifying sense. This wasn't a serial killer; it was a ghost, haunting the memories of a failed artistic endeavor, exacting a terrible price for a forgotten slight.

The exhaustion that had weighed you down for weeks suddenly evaporated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. This was it. The link. The motive. The path to the killer. You and Seungcheol, now a single, driven unit, began to sift through the newly discovered documents with furious intensity. Every name, every incident report, every piece of forgotten gossip, now held a terrifying new significance. You started cross-referencing names from the play’s production with any reported incidents, any disappearances, any disgruntled individuals from that time. You meticulously built a new timeline, charting the rise and spectacular fall of The Crimson Mask, hoping to identify anyone with a motive, anyone who might harbor such a deep, burning resentment for its cancellation. The blurred birthmark from the church video now felt like a desperate plea for identification, a singular mark on a vengeful phantom.

You were deep in the new rabbit hole, the office buzzing with your renewed energy, when your phone rang again. A private number, withheld. You hesitated, glancing at Seungcheol, who was now pulling up old police records related to the Seongsan Arts Center incident. He nodded, gesturing for you to answer. You picked up, your voice crisp despite the underlying tension.

“Detective Y/N,” a woman’s voice said, soft but firm, with a slight, almost imperceptible accent that wasn’t local. “My name is Lee Min-jun. I’m Detective Lee Chang-min’s daughter. I understand you’re handling his… case. I’d like to speak with you.”

A cold prickle of suspicion immediately ran down your spine. It was suspicious. Highly suspicious. You knew Lee Chang-min’s daughter. You had met her briefly years ago. She was an accomplished architect, based in Rome, Italy, according to his last update. She was definitely not in Seoul. The subtle accent, while perhaps a result of living abroad, was just enough to raise a flag. This wasn't a distraught daughter calling from a grief-stricken flight. This felt… off. Too calm. Too precise.

Your eyes met Seungcheol’s across the desk. He had heard your end of the conversation, caught the subtle change in your expression. He was already reaching for his sidearm, his hand hovering over it, his body tensing, his gaze fixed on you. He picked up his own phone, dialing a silent, internal number, preparing for a trace.

“Ms. Lee,” you said, keeping your voice steady, injecting just enough formality to mask your growing alarm. “Thank you for calling. I’m so sorry for your loss. Where are you calling from?”

A beat of silence. Then, a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle on the other end, devoid of humor. “Oh, I’m… closer than you think, Detective Y/N. Much, much closer. I just need to speak with you. Urgently. Alone. There are things about my father, about this ‘Director’… things I can only tell you in person.” She named a specific, secluded café, tucked away in an old, quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of Seoul, known for its antique charm and discreet corners. A perfect place for a private, deadly meeting.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. This could be the killer itself. A trap, meticulously laid, designed to lure you out, vulnerable and alone. The Director’s message to Seungcheol: “I’ll rewrite you.” What better way to rewrite him than to take the one person he was desperately trying to protect? This was personal bait, and you were the one being reeled in.

You spoke into the phone, keeping your voice even. “I understand, Ms. Lee. I can meet you there. But it might take me a little while to get away. Give me twenty minutes.” You were buying time, letting Seungcheol set up a perimeter, gather backup.

You ended the call, your hand trembling slightly as you placed the receiver back in its cradle. Seungcheol was already on the internal line, speaking in hushed, urgent tones, describing the location, giving orders, his eyes never leaving yours. He had heard enough. He was already reaching for his jacket, pulling his weapon. He didn't need to ask if you were going alone. He knew the risk, knew the potential for a trap. He was already planning how to shadow you, how to keep you safe. He stays in reach. Closer than anyone, the one person who would break every protocol to ensure you walked away from this. The Director’s stage was set, and you were about to step into his deadliest act yet.

The twenty minutes you had bought felt like an eternity, a slow-motion countdown to an unknown horror. The address provided by “Lee Min-jun” led to a cluster of deserted warehouses on the forgotten industrial outskirts of Seoul, a landscape of crumbling brick and rusting metal. It was the perfect stage for the Director, isolated and grim, far from the bustling heart of the city. You drove there, every nerve ending screaming, every instinct on high alert. You knew it was a trap. You felt it. But the lure of the information, the desperate hope that this might be the breakthrough, compelled you forward.

Seungcheol had been a phantom presence from the moment you left the precinct. You hadn't seen his car, but you knew he was there, a shadow in your rearview mirror, a guardian angel you begrudgingly relied upon. His instructions, relayed in terse, urgent whispers over your comms, were precise: "Maintain speed. No sudden stops. I'm three blocks back, heading your way. Backup is five minutes out. Don't go in alone, Y/N. I mean it." The last words were a low growl, a direct echo of his fury in the theatre's underground base. You knew he meant it. You just also knew you couldn't wait.

You parked your unmarked car a block away from the designated warehouse, pulling into the shadow of a crumbling, abandoned factory building. The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and forgotten industry. A cold wind, carrying the ghosts of long-dead machinery, whipped around you. The warehouse itself loomed, a vast, decaying monument to neglect, its windows shattered like vacant eyes. It looked exactly like the kind of place where a director of death would stage his most personal act. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence.

You checked your sidearm, the familiar weight a small comfort in your trembling hand. You wore a covert comms earpiece, feeling Seungcheol’s distant, watchful presence, an invisible lifeline. He would be close. He had to be. You took a deep, shaky breath, pushing down the rising tide of fear. You were a detective. This was your job. But the thought of your name on that note, the chilling prophecy of your "role," made your skin crawl. You were the bait.

Stepping out of the car, you moved with practiced caution, your footsteps muffled on the cracked asphalt. The warehouse seemed to swallow the light, its vast interior a gaping maw of shadows. You crept towards a gaping hole where a loading bay door once stood, the rusted remnants like broken teeth. The silence inside was oppressive, heavy, broken only by the drip of water and the distant rattle of metal. Every shadow seemed to stretch and writhe, morphing into imagined threats. You moved slowly, methodically, your eyes scanning, your senses heightened, straining for any sign of movement, any breath, any sound. The cold prickle of unease intensified, a growing certainty that you were not alone.

And then, he was there.

A blur of motion from your peripheral vision, a sudden, swift lunge from the darkest corner. You had barely a split second to react, your detective instincts screaming. A figure, cloaked in black, emerging from the deep shadows of the warehouse. Not Lee Min-jun, the architect from Rome. This was the Director. His movements were swift, calculated, terrifyingly efficient. Before you could even raise your weapon, before you could articulate a single syllable, he was on you. His arm, strong and unyielding, clamped around your waist, pulling you back against a solid, unyielding chest. A thick, coarse hand, gloved, clamped over your mouth, stifling your cry. The scent of dust and something metallic, something vaguely like old stage grease, filled your nostrils. He was disturbingly close, his breath warm against your ear. You felt the cold, hard press of something against your side – a knife.

Your heart exploded in your chest, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Fear, cold and absolute, washed over you, paralyzing you for a split second. This was it. This was the "role" he had promised. Your body reacted instinctively, violently. You thrashed, kicked, elbowed backwards with all your might, trying to dislodge his grip, to break free. His hold was iron, unyielding. He pulled you back, further into the deepening gloom of the warehouse, away from the distant opening, away from any potential light, away from…

A guttural growl, low and dangerous, ripped through the silence of the warehouse. Not your own. Not the Director's. It was Seungcheol.

He arrived. Not a second later, not a breath out of sync. Just as the Director began to drag you deeper into the shadows, just as the cold edge of the knife pressed a little harder against your side, a sudden, blinding flash of light erupted from the entrance of the warehouse, followed by the deafening crack of a gunshot.

Seungcheol. He had seen the struggle, timed his intervention with a precision that bordered on miraculous. He hadn't bothered with formalities, hadn't waited for backup. He had burst through the entrance, gun drawn, firing a warning shot into the ceiling, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. And then, with a desperate, almost feral roar, he acted. He killed the lights.

The warehouse plunged into immediate, absolute darkness. The sudden transition was disorienting, a violent assault on your senses. The Director’s grip faltered for a mere instant, a moment of confusion in the chaos. That was all you needed. You twisted, elbowed him hard in the stomach, and pulled frantically against his weakening hold. He grunted, a sound of frustrated surprise, and you felt his grip finally break. You stumbled forward, collapsing onto the dusty floor, gasping for air, the metallic taste of fear filling your mouth.

The next few seconds were a terrifying symphony of sounds: Seungcheol’s rapid footsteps, the click-clack of his gun being reloaded, his urgent, shouted commands – "Y/N! Are you okay?! Stay down!" – and the frantic, retreating scuffle of the Director. You heard the sounds of shattering glass, the scraping of metal, as the killer scrambled to escape into the pre-dawn night, vanishing as swiftly and silently as he had appeared. The brief, chaotic battle was over. The killer escaped, but you were safe.

You lay on the cold concrete, trembling, your lungs burning, struggling to regain control of your breathing. The phantom sensation of the knife at your side, the rough hand over your mouth, lingered like a physical wound. The adrenaline surged through your veins, leaving you nauseous and dizzy. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, trying to orient yourself in the oppressive darkness.

Then, Seungcheol was there. His footsteps were heavy, urgent, closing in on you. You heard the click of his tactical flashlight, and a narrow beam of light cut through the gloom, momentarily blinding you before it settled on your face. His eyes, in the harsh glare, were wide, filled with a raw, desperate fear that eclipsed everything else. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands immediately sweeping over your body, checking for injuries, his touch surprisingly gentle, almost reverent. "Y/N? Are you hurt? Are you hit?" His voice was hoarse, thick with barely suppressed panic.

You shook your head, still gasping for air, your throat raw. "No. No, I'm okay. He… he just had a knife. He didn't use it." You pointed vaguely into the darkness where the killer had vanished. "He went that way. Towards the back alley."

He didn't pursue. Not yet. His priority was you. He pulled you up, his arm steady around your waist, helping you to your feet. You leaned into him, suddenly weak in the knees, the terrifying reality of how close you had come hitting you with full force. Backup sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, closer. They had made it. Just a little too late.

That night, after the chaos of the crime scene had been processed, the statements taken, and the lingering dread had settled like a heavy fog, Seungcheol drove you both back to his place. The car ride was steeped in a profound, unsettling silence. The usual witty retorts, the simmering arguments, the barbed comments that usually filled the space between you were absent. There was only the quiet hum of the engine, the glow of the dashboard lights, and the crushing weight of the near-abduction. Your body thrummed with residual adrenaline, and the image of the Director’s cloaked figure lunging from the shadows replayed endlessly in your mind. Seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw clenched, his profile grim. He glanced at you occasionally, a quick, almost imperceptible flick of his eyes, filled with an unreadable mix of concern and something else you couldn't quite decipher. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, with raw, unacknowledged emotions that had nowhere to go, no safe space to land.

You arrived at his apartment, the building feeling like a fortress against the unseen terrors of the city. He unlocked the door, the click echoing in the sudden quiet, and you stepped inside, the oppressive silence following you. The lights were low, casting long shadows across the familiar, minimalist living space. Neither of you spoke. You moved slowly, deliberately, as if in a trance, shedding your jacket, leaving it slumped on a chair. The scent of him, faint but familiar, was surprisingly grounding.

He closed the door behind him, the soft click final. He didn't move immediately towards you. He remained by the door, his back to you, his shoulders hunched, his hands clenched into fists. He was processing, reliving the moment he burst through that door, the sight of you in the killer’s grasp. The agony of that near-miss, the terror of almost losing you, was etched into every rigid line of his body.

Finally, he turned. His face was pale, drawn, his eyes shadowed, but clear. There was no anger now, only a profound, almost desperate vulnerability that stripped him bare. He walked towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if unsure whether to approach or retreat. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze locked onto yours, raw and unblinking.

Seungcheol confessed. His voice, when it came, was low, rough, thick with unshed tears and a pain so deep it resonated in your very soul. It was a broken whisper, a stark admission that tore through the last vestiges of his carefully constructed composure. “Y/N,” he began, his voice barely audible, “when I saw him… when I saw him grab you… when I thought he was going to take you, just like the others…” He trailed off, swallowing hard, struggling to control the tremor in his voice. His eyes, usually so guarded, were wide, haunted by the image. “My blood went cold. My entire world… it just narrowed to that moment. To getting you out.”

He took a shaky breath, his confession pouring out of him, raw and unvarnished, stripped of all pretense. “I swear to God, Y/N, in that moment, all I could think was… I would rather. I would rather take his place. I would rather die. I would rather take the killer’s place than see you hurt again.” The words were a desperate plea, a confession of fear so profound it was almost a physical ache in the air between you. He wasn't just saying he'd protect you; he was saying he'd sacrifice himself, willingly, without a second thought. It was the most selfless, terrifyingly vulnerable admission he had ever made, revealing a depth of feeling that stunned you into silence. The implications were staggering, monumental. He feared for your safety more than his own life, more than any case, more than anything.

His admission hit you with the force of a tidal wave. All your carefully constructed walls, the years of competitive rivalry, the lingering distrust, the recent awkwardness – they shattered. His words were raw, primal, stripping away everything but the terrifying truth of his feelings, and by extension, your own. You saw the agonizing fear, the desperate, protective love, blazing in his eyes.

You didn’t think. You didn't intellectualize. You didn't pull away. Instead, driven by an equally desperate, raw instinct, you surged forward. Your hands, trembling slightly, clamped onto the lapels of his shirt, pulling him towards you with a force born of overwhelming emotion. His face, still etched with raw confession, was suddenly inches from yours. Your eyes, wide and blazing, locked with his.

“Then push me away,” you whispered, your voice fierce, trembling with a mixture of terror and defiance, a desperate plea and a challenge. “Push me away if you don’t like this. Push me away if you don’t feel it too. Because I can’t… I can’t do this alone anymore.” The words were a dare, an invitation to a precipice you both stood on, terrified but unable to retreat. You were laying your own vulnerability bare, mirroring his, demanding a response, an acknowledgment of the terrifying, undeniable connection that had forged itself in the fires of shared trauma.

He didn't push you away. He didn't hesitate. His eyes, wide and filled with a sudden, answering fire, dropped to your lips. In that moment, all the unspoken longing, all the suppressed attraction, all the shared terror and desperate need, exploded.

The kiss was raw. It was desperate. It was utterly consuming. His mouth descended on yours with a fierce hunger, a primal urgency that left you breathless. His hands, no longer clenched, found your waist, pulling you against him, crushing your bodies together, eliminating every last inch of space between you. It was a torrent of pent-up emotion, a release of weeks of tension, of fear, of silent longing. It was the kiss of two people who had stared death in the face and, in doing so, had finally seen each other, truly seen each other, for the first time.

It was also soft, a tender counterpoint to the wild hunger. His lips moved against yours with a surprising gentleness amidst the ferocity, a quiet acknowledgment of the vulnerability, the profound connection that was forming. His fingers tightened at your waist, holding you impossibly close, as if afraid that if he let go, you would simply vanish.

You responded with equal intensity, your hands rising, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer still. Your lips moved in sync with his, a desperate dance of fear and burgeoning love. You were both terrified of what you felt, of the monumental shift, of the implications this would have on your already complicated lives, on the very fabric of your professional existence. This wasn't just a physical act; it was a devastating emotional confession, a complete surrender to the terrifying truth that had been building between you.

But neither of you stopped it this time. There was no alcohol to blame, no exhaustion to excuse the lapse. This was real. This was a choice. And in that moment, in the suffocating silence of his apartment, illuminated only by the faint city lights filtering through the blinds, you both chose to fall. He didn't push you away. He held you closer, his body molding against yours, a silent promise, a desperate comfort, a terrifying, beautiful beginning. The world outside, with its Director and his chilling plays, faded into insignificance. For now, there was only the two of you, lost in the overwhelming, undeniable current of your shared vulnerability, and the sudden, breathtaking reality of what you felt for each other.

The first light of dawn, tinged with a fragile, almost hopeful pink, barely touched the windows of Seungcheol’s apartment. You were already awake, the events of the previous night — the near-abduction, his desperate confession, and the raw, uninhibited kiss that had followed — replaying in your mind like a fever dream. The tenderness of his embrace still lingered, a phantom warmth that both comforted and terrified you. You were no longer just colleagues, not even just rivals. The boundaries had dissolved, replaced by a profound, undeniable connection forged in the crucible of shared trauma and raw, burgeoning emotion. But the case remained, a dark shadow hanging over this fragile new intimacy. The Director was still out there, and he was getting bolder, more personal.

You slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Seungcheol, who was still deeply asleep beside you. He had finally found a true, exhausted respite, and you couldn't bring yourself to break it. Your mind, however, was already racing, furiously assembling the fragments of what you knew, what you had learned from the Director's journal, what he desired. Control. Performance. A final, grand spectacle. A plan, dangerous and audacious, began to form in your mind. A trap. The only way to catch a madman obsessed with orchestration was to give him a stage, and then, to flip the script.

You moved silently into the living room, grabbing a notepad and pen. The faint glow of the city lights outside provided just enough illumination. You began to sketch, to write, to diagram, your thoughts flowing freely, unchecked by the usual caution. The Director considered you "Act I" – a character from his past, essential to his narrative. He wanted to "rewrite" Seungcheol. He played on theatrical themes. He craved control, but perhaps, in his arrogance, he could be controlled.

An hour later, Seungcheol stirred. You heard the creak of the bed, then the soft padding of his bare feet on the floor. He walked into the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hair endearingly disheveled. He stopped short when he saw you, hunched over the notepad, the determined set of your shoulders, the frantic energy emanating from you. He looked from your intense face to the scribbled notes, then back to you, a question in his eyes, a dawning realization of your focus.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep, a faint awkwardness lingering from the night’s overwhelming events, yet beneath it, a new, almost tender possessiveness in his gaze.

You looked up, a manic gleam in your eyes. The plan was crystallizing, demanding to be voiced. “Morning. I have an idea. A… dangerous one.” You pushed the notepad towards him, tapping a finger on your intricate diagram. “He’s obsessed with control, right? With his ‘performance.’ He sees us as characters. He wants to rewrite you. He wants a grand finale.”

Seungcheol leaned over, his brow furrowed as he read your notes, the lines of exhaustion still etched around his eyes, but now tinged with sharp intelligence. Your plan was bold, terrifyingly so. It involved luring the Director out into the open, using his own obsessions against him. It was a high-stakes gamble, risking everything.

As he absorbed the details, his eyes widened slightly. He looked up at you, a silent question passing between you. He knew what you were suggesting, implicitly. He knew the risk. And then, slowly, a grim resolve settled over his features.

“I’ll be the bait,” he said, his voice quiet, firm, utterly resolved. The words hung in the air, a devastating pronouncement. You had considered it, of course, but pushed it away as too dangerous, too personal. Yet, his logic, even in this terrifying proposal, was impeccable. “It makes sense,” he continued, almost dispassionately, as if discussing another detective’s fate. “He sees me as the ‘flawed hero’ from that original play. I was the male lead, after all. He wants to ‘rewrite’ me, to correct my role, to make me part of his ultimate production. I’m the logical choice for his grand finale. He’ll come for me.”

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t want him to do it. The thought of him, alone, exposed, walking into the killer’s trap, sent a spear of pure terror through you. The idea, once an abstract possibility in your planning, now materialized into a horrifying reality. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. All the raw emotion from the night before, the desperate fear of losing him, surged to the surface.

“No,” you gasped, the word torn from your throat, your voice thin with desperate fear. You reached out, grabbing his arm, your fingers digging into his bicep. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous, cheol. He’s unpredictable. He’s obsessed. He’ll hurt you. He’ll kill you. In the most fucked up way possible-” Your voice rose, bordering on a plea. “We can find another way. We can use a decoy, someone else. This isn’t… this isn’t necessary!” You clung to his arm, your eyes wide with desperate entreaty. “Please, cheol. Don’t do this. I can’t… I can’t lose you.” The words, raw and unbidden, tumbled out, laying bare the depth of your fear, the terrifying realization of how much he had come to mean to you. The very thought of him in the Director’s hands, of him becoming another victim in this twisted play, was unbearable.

He looked down at your hands, then back into your eyes, his gaze steady, unwavering, despite the obvious pain and apprehension flickering within their depths. He gently covered your hand with his own, his thumb stroking your knuckles, a comforting gesture that belied the terrifying decision he had just made. His voice was soft, laced with a quiet, heartbreaking resolve. “If it means protecting you, Y/N,” he said, his gaze holding yours, unflinching, “I’ll take the stage.” It was a silent vow, a terrifying declaration of love and sacrifice, echoing his confession from the previous night, solidifying it into an undeniable truth. He would offer himself, willingly, if it meant keeping you safe. His own life, his own pain, was secondary to your survival.

You choked back a sob, tears stinging your eyes. There was no arguing with that kind of resolve, that level of selflessness. He had made his decision, and his stubbornness, usually a source of irritation, was now a heartbreaking testament to his devotion. He was willing to become the Director's final act, if it meant ending the play.

The meeting with Captain Kim was tense, the air thick with unspoken anxieties. You and Seungcheol stood side-by-side, a united front, but the strain was visible on both your faces. You had laid out the entire plan: the lure, the staging, the precise timing of the backup. You explained how the Director's obsession with Seungcheol as the "flawed hero" from The Crimson Mask could be manipulated, how his need for a final, grand performance would draw him out. The Captain listened, his face grim, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on his desk.

“This is… an extreme risk, Detectives,” Captain Kim stated, his voice tight. “Putting a detective in harm’s way, intentionally using him as bait… this could cost someone their life. Let alone, Detective Choi’s.” His gaze was fixed on Seungcheol, a mixture of paternal concern and professional apprehension in his eyes. He knew Seungcheol was invaluable, a rising star. The thought of losing him, especially in such a calculated maneuver, was clearly agonizing. He had trusted you both with the case, but this… this pushed the boundaries of every protocol, every acceptable risk.

The Captain questioned Seungcheol directly. “Detective Choi,” he said, his voice firm, searching for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. “Do you truly want to do this? Are you absolutely certain about this plan? Are you willing to walk into a trap that could be your last?”

Seungcheol met the Captain’s gaze, his own eyes clear, resolute. He didn't look at you, didn't seek your approval or your protest. This decision was his alone. He squared his shoulders, his voice calm, unwavering, filled with a quiet conviction that echoed through the room. “I trust her, sir. I trust her more than myself.” The words were simple, profound, a testament to the absolute faith he now placed in you, in your plan, in your ability to bring him back. It was a startling declaration, publicly acknowledging the depth of his reliance, his dependence on you, the woman he had once despised.

The Captain’s gaze shifted to you, a new intensity in his eyes, searching your face for any sign of uncertainty, any hint of recklessness. He saw only grim determination, a fierce resolve that mirrored Seungcheol’s own. He saw the same unwavering trust, the silent promise.

You stepped forward slightly, your voice ringing with a conviction that brooked no argument. “I won’t let him die, sir.” Your declaration was fierce, a vow forged in the fire of fear and a desperate, burgeoning love. It was a promise to the Captain, to the department, but most profoundly, to Seungcheol himself. You would bring him back. You would not allow the Director to claim him.

The Captain sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of his entire career. He looked from you to Seungcheol, then back again, seeing the unbreakable bond, the unspoken commitment that radiated from you both. He saw not just two detectives, but two people utterly, irrevocably intertwined, bound by a shared purpose and a terrifying, personal stake. He knew, intuitively, that there was no dissuading either of you. He finally nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, a reluctant acceptance. “Alright,” he said, his voice resigned, “alright. I’ll approve it. But every single unit, every man, every resource, will be at your disposal. Set up the backup exactly the way you need it, Detective Y/N. Every contingency. Don’t leave anything to chance.”

Relief washed over you, cold and sharp, immediately replaced by a surge of renewed focus. The plan was in motion. The trap was set. The stage was being prepared for the Director’s final performance. You worked tirelessly for the next few days, meticulously planning every detail. The location, chosen to evoke a sense of theatrical grandeur and isolation, was an abandoned opera house on the city's outskirts, its decaying beauty a fitting backdrop for the Director's macabre art. You studied the blueprints, coordinated with SWAT teams, arranged for surveillance, drone coverage, every escape route sealed, every entry point monitored. Seungcheol, his resolve unwavering, trained with the precision of a soldier, preparing for his role as the bait. He practiced signals, evasive maneuvers, every possible scenario. The weight of his impending sacrifice, his terrifying gamble, hung heavy in the air, a silent, constant presence between you. But beneath the fear, beneath the professional intensity, lay a deeper, more profound connection, a shared destiny that would either lead to triumph, or to an unimaginable tragedy. The final act was upon you.

The air in the abandoned opera house was thick with anticipation, a ghostly silence preceding the final act of a twisted play. Days of meticulous planning had culminated in this moment. The grandeur of the decaying theater, with its velvet-draped boxes and peeling gold leaf, was an ideal stage for the Director's twisted obsession with performance. Every detail had been considered, every contingency mapped out, every escape route covered. The city’s best tactical units were positioned, invisible in the surrounding darkness, waiting for your signal. The Captain, despite his lingering apprehension, had given his full support, his trust in you and Seungcheol absolute.

Your plan hinged on the Director’s insatiable ego, his desperate need for control and recognition. You had carefully orchestrated a lure designed to be irresistible to him. Anonymous, cryptic invitations, crafted with phrases lifted directly from his journal – “A final performance,” “The grand unveiling,” “A rewritten destiny” – were disseminated through the dark web channels he was known to frequent. You created a buzz, a digital whisper campaign hinting at a secret, exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime show featuring the very detective who had dared to defy him. The bait was Seungcheol himself, framed as the “flawed hero” finally stepping into his true role under the Director's guidance. The trap was meticulously set, an intricate web of digital and physical cues designed to appeal directly to his grandiose delusions.

And he walked right in. Just like you wanted.

The first sign was a flicker on the surveillance monitors. A solitary figure, cloaked in black, moving with an eerie familiarity, slipped through a pre-identified access point at the back of the opera house. No alarms triggered, no sensors tripped – a testament to his uncanny stealth. He moved like a phantom, utterly confident in his dominion over this stage. The comms crackled in your ear, low and urgent. "Director confirmed. Entering perimeter."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. You were positioned in a makeshift command center, set up in a dusty box seat high above the stage, overlooking the vast, empty auditorium. Seungcheol was already in position, a solitary figure illuminated by a single, carefully placed spotlight at center stage. He stood there, a beacon in the cavernous space, a bait for a monster. The comms between you and him were open, a fragile, direct lifeline.

“He’s here, Seungcheol,” you whispered into your mic, your voice tight with apprehension. “He just entered the main hall.”

“Understood,” his voice was calm, steady, devoid of the fear that was twisting your gut. A professional, playing his part. “Curtain’s up.”

The next few minutes were agonizing. You watched on the thermal imaging, seeing the Director’s heat signature move slowly, deliberately, towards the stage. He wasn't rushing. He was savoring the moment, preparing for his grand entrance. You saw him emerge from the shadows backstage, his black cloak billowing slightly as he stepped onto the stage, facing Seungcheol. He held something in his hand, something long and glinting.

Seungcheol was taken mid-operation. It was a crucial part of the plan. You watched as the Director moved, with surprising speed, to overpower Seungcheol. A brief struggle, perfectly choreographed, designed to appear convincing without putting Seungcheol in actual immediate danger – though the line was terrifyingly thin. The Director struck, and Seungcheol went down, seemingly unconscious, just as planned. The Director then dragged his seemingly lifeless form deeper onto the stage, towards a pre-set pulley system, an old, rusty mechanism designed for theatrical backdrops.

The Director straightened, his masked face turning to Seungcheol, who lay seemingly inert. "A true hero's fall, Detective Choi," the Director's voice echoed, cold and clear in the vast space, carrying an almost theatrical cadence. "A fitting end for the flawed protagonist." He then stepped over Seungcheol's body, moving towards the ropes.

But Seungcheol, despite his feigned unconsciousness, was listening, his mind already working, dissecting the Director’s words. He had to know. "Why?" Seungcheol's voice, though weak, cut through the silence, surprising the Director. "Why all of this? The murders, the 'roles,' the suffering… Why, Director? What twisted motive could drive this madness?" His voice was laced with an anger that was slowly rising, battling against the pain of his mentor's death.

The Director paused, turning slowly back to Seungcheol, a chilling smile evident even behind the mask. "Why? Because they failed. They destroyed my vision. They didn't understand their roles, Detective. They butchered the script! They cancelled my play! They deserved to be rewritten, to play their final, true parts under my direction. And you, Detective, you allowed it. You failed to see the truth. You failed to save them. You failed your mentor, just as he failed me." His voice rose, filled with a manic, self-righteous fury. "Now, you will understand. You will feel what it means to be truly directed. To have your destiny dictated." He reached for the rope again, his hands moving with renewed purpose.

“He’s got him,” a voice crackled in your ear from the tactical team. “Moving to secure.”

“Negative!” you snapped, your voice sharp with command, overriding their impulse. This wasn’t just a capture; it was the final act of his play. “Hold your positions. This is part of the plan. He’s going to move him.”

Your gaze was fixed on the screen, your heart leaping into your throat. You knew what was coming. The Director’s next move. His “final performance.”

“Y/N,” Seungcheol’s voice, a mere whisper, came through your earpiece, strained but audible. “He’s… he’s going for the ropes. The old fly system. He’s going to hang me.”

The words sent a cold spear of pure terror through you. You had anticipated it, of course. Planned for it. But hearing it, the grim reality of it, was sickening. This was the moment.

The Director was indeed at the old pulley system, beginning to meticulously prepare the ropes. He looked up, his masked face turning towards the empty audience, as if addressing his unseen patrons. You could almost feel his perverse satisfaction, his triumph. He was savoring this, his grandest, most personal act.

“He’s setting up the noose, Y/N,” Seungcheol’s voice, a little weaker now, came through. “He’s talking… about the ‘flawed hero’s final curtain.’ His voice is right… I can almost see the birthmark.”

Your hand automatically went to your own ear, pressing against the comms earpiece. It wasn’t just for listening; it was for tracking. Weeks ago, knowing the Director’s obsession with control and his desire to disappear without a trace, you had insisted on a radical, almost crazy contingency. After the Director started targeting you directly, after Seungcheol had volunteered for this, you had taken a drastic, unauthorized step. One night, while he slept, exhausted from training, you had gently, painstakingly, inserted a minuscule location chip into a molar on his back tooth, securing it with a dental adhesive you had acquired through… unconventional means. It was barely the size of a grain of rice, undetectable by conventional means, and broadcasting a silent, constant signal only you could track on your encrypted device. It was a secret you had kept from him, from everyone, knowing he would never agree to such an invasive measure. But you couldn't risk him disappearing, couldn’t risk not finding him in the chaos of the trap. It was your desperate, silent promise that you would find him. And now, that chip was your only guide.

Your eyes darted to the small, specialized tracker nestled in your palm, its single red dot blinking steadily, its signal unwavering. It led directly to Seungcheol, now a helpless figure on the stage. The Director was wrapping the final loops of rope, pulling it taut, preparing to suspend him. There was no more time.

“He’s almost ready,” Seungcheol’s voice, tight with strain, resonated in your ear. “Y/N… now.”

“Team 2, team 1, team 3, on my mark!” you barked into the comms, your voice clear, sharp, cutting through the fear. “Engage on my signal! Do not fire unless absolutely necessary!”

You didn’t wait for backup to flood the stage. You moved. Your training, your instincts, every raw emotion you had suppressed, exploded into action. You burst from the box seat, not through the controlled entry points the tactical teams were using, but directly, impulsively, launching yourself from the balcony, a desperate, almost reckless leap that would make any commanding officer furious. You landed hard on the stage floor, rolling, coming up in a crouch, your sidearm already drawn, pointed directly at the black-cloaked figure of the Director.

You broke in.

The Director spun, startled by your sudden, impossible appearance. His masked face snapped towards you, a moment of genuine surprise in his calculated performance. He dropped the rope, pulling out a gleaming, wickedly sharp knife from within his cloak, its blade catching the single spotlight.

You didn't hesitate. You squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed, loud and precise. It struck the Director in the leg, just above the knee. He gasped, a guttural cry of pain, stumbling backward, his body spasming from the impact. A dark stain bloomed on his black trousers.

But despite the searing pain, despite the blood immediately blooming on his leg, he didn't fall. His eyes, even through the mask, seemed to burn with an insane fury. He snarled, a bestial sound, and with a terrifying, impossible surge of adrenaline, he lunged at you, his knife a silver blur, aiming for your chest.

The final fight was brutal, chaotic, a desperate ballet of life and death on the dusty stage. Gun. Knife. Blood. He moved with a frightening, almost supernatural speed, his knowledge of the stage, of its hidden passages and shadows, giving him an advantage even with his injury. You dodged, his knife missing your ribs by mere inches, the air hissing where it passed. You fired another shot, aiming for his shoulder, but he twisted, the bullet embedding itself in the wooden floorboards with a splintering thud. The knife flashed again, cutting across your arm, a sharp, searing pain as your sleeve tore and warm blood welled up. You hissed, pressing against the wound, but you didn't break focus.

He came at you again, swinging the knife in a wide, desperate arc. You parried with your gun, the metallic clang echoing, the impact jarring your arm. You saw a flash of his left arm, the distinctive burnt patch clear even in the dim light, confirming his identity, confirming the nightmare, confirming the monster was finally within your reach. You fought with a ferocity born of pure vengeance and desperate self-preservation. He was bleeding from his leg, his movements hampered, but his madness made him relentless, unpredictable.

You found an opening. As he lunged again, you anticipated his move, twisting sharply, bringing your gun up. You fired, not to kill, but to incapacitate. A shot to his knife-wielding hand, a sickening crack of bone. He screamed, dropping the weapon, clutching his mangled hand. Another shot, tearing through his other arm, rendering it useless. Then, a shot to his remaining good leg, and another, and another, aiming precisely, not for the kill, but to shatter his ability to move. You emptied your magazine into his limbs, each shot a deliberate act of dismantling his control, his movement, his ability to ever stand or direct again.

He collapsed, a broken heap on the stage, screaming, whimpering, his body a twisted mess of shattered bone and bleeding wounds. He couldn't move. He was alive, barely, but utterly, completely incapacitated.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol, recovering from the initial blow, had been stirring, groaning, his eyes fluttering open. He was now fully awake, watching the brutal, one-sided fight, witnessing your terrifying efficiency, your unwavering resolve.

You stumbled towards him, dropping your now-empty gun. You tore at the rope that was still around his throat, frantically loosening it, pulling it away. You freed him. He gasped, clutching his throat, his face pale, but his eyes were open, clear, filled with a profound shock and an overwhelming relief. He coughed, drawing ragged breaths into his burning lungs.

The Director, a broken figure bleeding on the stage, slowly lifted his head, his voice a ragged, desperate rasp. He was blabbering nonsense, his voice filled with a mad, defeated fury. “You… you can’t end me! This isn’t over! I’ll find you! I’ll end you, Y/N! In hell! I’ll end you there! This… this is just the beginning of your real torment!” He coughed, a gurgling sound, blood bubbling at the corner of his masked mouth, but his eyes, blazing with an insane light, were fixed on you. “I’ll torture you there! Every single day! I’ll make you beg for the final curtain!”

You looked at him, a cold, dark satisfaction settling in your chest. You walked slowly towards him, your footsteps echoing in the suddenly silent theater. You stood over his broken form, your gaze unwavering, devoid of pity. “In hell?” you scoffed, your voice low, laced with a chilling, defiant sarcasm. You knelt, leaning close, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, filled with a promise that was more terrifying than any threat he could conjure. “You can’t even get up, you pathetic excuse for a Director. And even in hell,” you snarled, your voice gaining a terrifying intensity, “I will track you down. And I will kill you again. And again. And again.”

The tactical teams burst onto the stage then, their weapons raised, their comms barking, their flashlights sweeping the scene. They froze, witnessing the raw, visceral intensity of the moment.

You looked at Seungcheol, who was now pushing himself into a sitting position, his eyes wide, fixed on you, a profound understanding and a dawning, terrifying realization in their depths. You reached out, your hand, still slightly trembling from the adrenaline, cupping his face. Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, leaving a faint smear of the Director's blood. You looked straight into his eyes, a silent conversation passing between you, a shared vow, a love forged in the deepest darkness. He understood. He saw the cold fury in your eyes, the unwavering resolve, the desperate need for absolute finality.

His gaze searched yours, a question, an acceptance. He nodded, a barely perceptible movement, giving you his silent permission, his complete trust.

With a profound, devastating certainty, you retrieved your gun, its weight familiar and deadly in your hand. The magazine was empty from incapacitating the Director. But you had another. Without breaking eye contact with Seungcheol, you smoothly ejected the empty clip, inserting a fresh one. The click was loud, decisive, in the sudden, utter silence of the opera house.

Your gaze drifted from Seungcheol’s face, to the broken, blabbering figure of the Director, now muttering incoherent threats. You raised the gun. With a chilling, unwavering intensity, you emptied your bullets, one after another, into the killer’s head and chest. A series of brutal, definitive shots. Each one a final judgment. Each one a liberation. His body convulsed one last time, then fell completely, finally still. His mad play was irrevocably, utterly ended.

The last shot echoed, long and drawn out, then silence. Heavy, thick, blood-soaked silence. The only sound was your ragged breathing, and the shocked gasps of the tactical team.

Seungcheol, now sitting up, still weak, watched you, his eyes filled with a complex mix of understanding, awe, and a fierce, possessive pride. He coughed, then a faint, tired smile touched his lips, a ghost of his usual smirk. His voice was hoarse, but clear, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “Still just as good at it. They called you tigress back then in uni. Still are, just my tigress now.”

You lowered the empty gun, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body, leaving you feeling profoundly weary, but strangely, utterly free. You looked at him, your eyes meeting his, a profound love shining through the trauma, through the blood, through the echoes of the nightmare. “Glad to know,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your own tears finally falling, hot and free. “I love you more.”

With that, you leaned in, and kissed him. A real kiss. No longer desperate, no longer confused, no longer tainted by fear or alcohol. It was a kiss of triumph, of survival, of a fierce, enduring love that had found its way through the darkest of times. The sirens wailed louder, the flashlights of the tactical teams swept across the stage, but in that moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, standing amidst the wreckage of a nightmare, finally, truly, together.

The end.

Author’s Note: If you made it to the end, thank you. I know this wasn’t an easy ride — the murders were gruesome, the emotions sharp, and the romance? Messy in all the right ways. Writing this story was like performing a dissection: peeling back layers of rivalry, grief, obsession, and love. Seungcheol and Y/N didn’t fall for each other easily — and they weren’t supposed to. But in all the blood and chaos, they still found something human. Because sometimes, the sharpest minds carry the softest hearts. And sometimes, the one who’d kill for you…is also the one who’d die for you.

— Katha <33

[teeskzagain]

mature themes, nsfw, 18+

a/n: currently working on an scoups fic that’s about blow minds. but randomly this scenario came to my head, so i had to dish it out.

real quick thought:

jerking off seungcheol while surrounded by a group of friends.

you guys would’ve been hanging out with a few friends, probably chilling in someone’s basement. the idea of watching a movie would’ve been brought up, and soon everyone’s scrambling to find a spot on the couch.

that’s how you end up right next to cheol towards the end of the couch. he’s up against the arm rest, you’re plastered to his side, and the rest of the couch is filled with the remaining friends.

initially, you don’t notice the change in atmosphere with seungcheol. yeah, you would feel his shoulder slump down lower, his legs widening. the blanket you had for yourself somehow ends up on his lap and more, but that’s just him getting comfortable.

yeah?

he continues adjusting himself until you two are completely covered in the soft fabric. but that doesn’t bother you. the movie goes on. your eyes would be trained to the screen and lips slightly parted out of anticipation. of course the movie dino selects is some thriller, action movie—and your body shakes every time he jumps from excitement.

during the halfway point of the movie is when subtle changes start to emerge. your arms that once rested against your chest would fall to your legs by this point. the fingers that are barely touching seungcheol’s leg stay there for a little bit. a few seconds of silence would pass until suddenly you feel his hand grasp your own then gently place it on top of his thigh.

this would be the start to it all. but not the official start. he’d have a signal—an indicator, that would let you know for certain, he’s in a mood. his head drops down slightly. the tips of his hair tickles your ear. and lowly, he’d produce one of the most ungodly, most guttural groans that would land straight into your stomach.

there it goes.

even then, you wouldn’t react. in fact, this would be a quite normal interaction between you and cheol. you guys are friends, nonetheless, but the sort of friends that also get one another off. and had you two been completely alone, there wouldn’t be a need for quiet touches or mild whimpers.

right now, seungcheol wants to get off— but that’s most likely because he enjoys the fact that this is so secretive and chaotic. and you’re more than willing to try it too.

with a pounding heart, you allow your fingers to travel across his pant leg and stop near his zipper. both of you face forward and make your movements as hidden as possible. he guides you in pulling down the barricade, and it’s you who wiggles your fingers through the crack while brushing against his underwear.

you’d sense his girth pertruding from his boxers, so in one quick motion you swiftly help pull his throbbing cock out of both his underwear and pants. at that, a low grunt flows through your ears and you have to hold back your own shaky breath.

without wasting any more time, you begin to pump your fingers up and down his length. he would try his hardest to not draw attention to the fact he'd shift his pelvis around, discreetly adjusting the angles at which you’re jerking him off.

if you were to look over his way, you would see the way he softly rolls his head. you would see his face remain stoic, though his eyes have a slight droop to them. his other hand is outside of the blanket and sitting on the arm rest. but if you looked closely, you could see the sporadic clenches his fist would do.

he must’ve already been horny before starting this whole thing. that’s why he’s already putty in your hands.

you swallow thickly as you speed up the pace of your fingers. his thick cock always feel so good. everything about him just turns you on so much. the stickiness of his precum would coat his skin so well, and act as the perfect lubricant.

you’d start to become so caught up in the arousal, you almost miss when he would eventually lean over once more. this time in a barely audible tone, he’d have to warn you, “fuck. I’m about to cum so fast. sh-shit, you tryna make me ruin your nasty little fingers already?”

he watches your face flex although you try to remain unresponsive. just a blank expression turned slightly away from him. however, that doesn’t stop the tiny, tiny whimper that hardly escapes your throat. without even looking you can already tell he’s close. his tip is leaking out more and more liquid, a common sign that seungcheol is about to ejaculate.

his stomach started to convulse which was evident by the quick spasms you’d feel from his torso. with the loudness of the movie overpowering anything else, you could even hear the increasingly rapid huffs he’d try to keep inside of him.

now it’s time to finish it all. your hand squeezes his cock every so often, a tactic you know he enjoys. you’d also focus a lot of your stimulation near the head of his dick since it’s more sensitive. when his huffs turn into quiet grumbles that buzz just right into your ear, you knew it’d be over soon.

he leans into your ear one last time, practically kissing your lobe, as he gasps, “you’re about to make me…god, you’re…oh fuck i’m cumming.”

just like that, your hand becomes overtly soaked in semen, the liquid firstly filling up your fist before dripping out of the side. his cock continues to pulse out more arousal, all the while seungcheol groans perfectly in your ear.

the two of you finish out the rest of the movie like normal. when it was over, while the rest of your friends chatter amongst themselves about the film, both you and seungcheol chime in. you guys try to add to the conversation in hopes of seeming perfectly fine. as if nothing ever happened.

[thedensworld]

Queen From Wonhwa | J.Ww

Pairing: Commander Wonwoo x Princess Reader

Genre: Historical, Romance, Thriller

Word Count: 18k

Summary: The conflict between the royal family had dragged you to join an alliance with a fallen royal, who held personal vendetta to the Silla royal family.

Hwarang was established in the mid-6th century, comprising elite young men from noble families, the yangban class. Among them was Jeon Wonwoo, one of the finest combat trainers in the Silla Kingdom. As the appointed combat instructor, Wonwoo stood as the pillar of strength and discipline, entrusted with training the kingdom’s future warriors. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, followed the Crown Prince Seungcheol as he readied his sword for a swift strike in their ongoing training session.

"Good job, Seja," Wonwoo complimented, his voice steady as Seungcheol’s sword clashed against his, signaling the end of their practice.

The other royals, including Seungkwan, the young prince, and the Daegun—other princes like Dokyeom and Chan—were also in the midst of their training.

A sudden clatter interrupted the session. Chan dropped his wooden sword, eyes wide as he spotted someone at the entrance of the practice area. His excitement was palpable, and Dokyeom, equally enthusiastic, followed suit. The two rushed toward the figure standing at the gate.

"Sister!" Chan exclaimed, his voice full of wonder as he rushed into the woman’s arms, followed closely by Dokyeom, who was beaming with joy.

The woman—Princess Y/n, the fiancée of Jeon Wonwoo—had returned. Seungcheol watched the scene unfold with furrowed brows, his voice cutting through the air as he gave an order to the two princes.

“Daegun! Back to practice, we still have time left,” Seungcheol commanded firmly, though his eyes lingered on his sister.

He shook his head, his lips curling into a slight, bemused smile. "She's back."

Wonwoo, ever the soldier, remained still, eyes fixed on his trainees as Seungcheol spoke further.

"Wonhwa has dismissed. She has no reason to be away,” Seungcheol added, his tone casual but laden with underlying meaning. “Her supplies must have been all used up by now."

Wonwoo remained silent, his gaze never straying from the royal siblings. But his attention was divided now. The moment he spoke, his words were succinct and unwavering: "She's my fiancée."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Are the two of you actually going to get married?"

"As long as the bride doesn't run away again, maybe we will," Wonwoo replied, his voice deadpan, though there was an edge of humor in his eyes.

Seungcheol chuckled, clearly entertained. With a quick motion, Wonwoo redirected everyone's focus.

"Enough chatter," he called out, his voice strong and commanding. "Back to training. Let's keep the discipline."

With that, the royal family of Silla returned to their practice, the clashing swords and the disciplined rhythm of training filling the air once again, the tension of their personal lives hanging just beneath the surface.

As the training session came to an end, Chan immediately ran toward you, who had been watching from the sidelines. His enthusiasm was evident as he approached you with a wide smile.

"Are you going to live with us now that you're not training again, sister?" he asked eagerly, his eyes full of curiosity.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his straightforwardness. "How do you know?" you responded, your voice soft but with a hint of playful challenge.

Chan grinned, clearly pleased with his own knowledge. "I overheard the guards talking. They said Wonhwa was dismissed, and Hwarang is now only for men."

Wonhwa, the training program for women, had been designed to provide education in culture, politics, social etiquette, and combat skills. You had spent three years immersed in the rigorous program before it was dissolved due to internal conflicts. Hwarang, a military force for young men, had been formally established by your father, the King, after the dissolution of Wonhwa.

Before you could respond, Seungcheol, the Crown Prince, approached you. His eyes met yours, and the unspoken tension between you two seemed to charge the air. You gave a slight bow, acknowledging his presence, but the moment felt heavy, like a storm cloud hanging overhead.

"How are you, Ongju?" Seungcheol asked, his voice polite but carrying an edge of formality.

Your response was measured, your gaze steady. The tension between the two of you was palpable. It was no secret to those watching that Prince Seungcheol and Princess Y/n shared a cold, distant relationship.

There had long been rumors that King Seongdeok favored his daughter over the Crown Prince, despite you not being part of the direct succession line. This favoritism had fueled whispers of a strained relationship between Seungcheol and you, something that lingered in the corridors of the palace, even though neither of you ever spoke of it openly.

As the onlookers exchanged glances, the silence between the royal siblings felt like the calm before a storm. The past was never far behind you, and the weight of royal duty made every glance, every word, carry the burden of history.

"I see you're here for training as well, Seja." You spoke, your tone light but with an underlying sharpness, knowing well that Seungcheol had long passed the age for Hwarang training.

You glanced at Wonwoo, who had approached, his presence unmistakable. The way he carried himself, the badge on his shoulder—it was clear he was now the official trainer for Hwarang. His position made him more than just an observer in the training ground; he was the one who guided them.

"I heard you're skilled with the sword. Can we see you spar with Seja?" Seungkwan piped up, his voice filled with innocent excitement. As the younger brother, he seemed oblivious to the tension between you and his older sibling. You smiled in response, amused by his enthusiasm.

Taking the sword from Dokyeom, you turned your head towards Seungcheol, your expression one of quiet determination.

Wonwoo watched closely, noting the way you held the sword. The ease with which you gripped it, the focused calmness in your stance—your confidence spoke volumes. The rumors of your swordsmanship were true, but seeing it firsthand made them all the more impressive. You were a master in combat, and it wasn’t just the sword that made you formidable.

"I didn’t know they taught swordsmanship in Wonhwa," Seungcheol said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought they only taught you how to pour tea." His words, meant to sting, seemed to land right where he intended.

You felt the subtle jab, but your response came with a practiced smile, hiding the flicker of pain beneath it. "I understand, Seja," you replied, your voice tinged with calm authority. "Since you never received any training, I can hardly blame you for not knowing."

The tension hung thick between you two, but you did not let it show. With a swift movement, you raised your sword, eyes locked on Seungcheol, ready for whatever came next.

Wonwoo, standing to the side, couldn’t help but be entertained by the exchange. The subtle, yet clear animosity between you and Seungcheol was something he hadn’t missed. He found himself amused, watching the interaction unfold. Perhaps he should stay for the entertainment—if only to ensure neither of them ended up with a sword in the other’s chest.

*

"Princess Y/n, Commander Jeon is here," your lady-in-waiting announced, her voice barely above a whisper as the doors swung open. You swiftly adjusted your gown, ensuring it was draped elegantly around you, just before Wonwoo, the man you were set to marry in a matter of months, entered your chamber. The air between you both felt thick with unspoken words, and you could feel the weight of four years pressing down on your heart.

It had been four long years since you last saw him, back when you were preparing to join the Wonhwa training—a decision that had sparked a wave of change not just in your life, but across Silla. At 18, when most young women were expected to embrace marriage, you chose a different path. Your refusal to wed became more than a personal choice; it was a declaration that would resonate through the kingdom and challenge centuries of tradition.

As the only princess and the king's sole daughter, your rejection of marriage at the prescribed age marked a profound turning point for the women of Silla. Your words had ignited a shift in thought that could no longer be ignored: "Women have the right to serve their country just as men do, even after the age of marriage. For too long, marriage has hindered our service to the kingdom. If marriage requires the same devotion as military service, then let men bear the burden we have carried for so long."

Your declaration had not only shocked the court but also forced a reassessment of laws that had been in place for generations, forcing many to reconsider the boundaries of gender roles in Silla.

"How has the military been treating you, Princess?" Wonwoo asked, his voice steady and respectful, yet carrying an undertone of genuine curiosity.

You raised a brow, surprised by his question. "And you, Commander? How have you been?" you replied, your tone remaining neutral. You gestured for your attendants to leave, signaling that this conversation would be more private.

Once the room was clear, Wonwoo met your gaze and spoke again. "If I may ask, how are you, Princess?" His voice was measured now, careful, as if testing the waters.

You exhaled softly, taking a moment to consider his question. "The military is... challenging," you said, the words coming out slowly, as you weighed their significance. "Wonhwa was an education for militant women. Now, I find myself... reduced to a figurehead in a world of men." Your tone remained calm, but the weight of the words was heavy.

"Yet, you are the only woman in history to have changed the laws," Wonwoo remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "The marriage age, the limits on women's education and careers—all of these restrictions were lifted because of you."

You gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "Perhaps," you replied. "But it was only because my father is the king." The acknowledgment of your role in the changes didn’t sit easily with you.

Wonwoo smiled faintly, almost as if understanding that the title of "Princess" did not define you. "And yet, Princess, you stand as a symbol of defiance and progress."

You felt a slight warmth at his words, but quickly masked it with a more guarded expression. "What brings you here, Commander?" you asked, your tone shifting to something more formal, as the conversation inevitably turned toward your future.

He studied you for a moment before replying. "May I not visit my soon-to-be wife?" His words were careful, though the undertone of them hung in the air, too charged for comfort.

Your expression faltered for a brief second before you regained composure. "Enough, Commander. You know this marriage will not happen." You dismissed his words with a wave of your hand, but inside, a part of you was unsettled.

He held your gaze, quiet for a moment, before speaking again. "You said that four years ago, Princess, and yet here we are, only months away from the wedding."

You let out a quiet sigh, the weight of the truth pressing in. "I am not the same person you knew," you murmured, your voice softer than before, laced with something more vulnerable.

Wonwoo paused, his expression softening as he took in your words. "Perhaps, Princess. But I never truly knew you." The words hung in the air, a quiet confession that carried more meaning than either of you realized.

It was the truth, you thought. No one had ever truly known you—not your father, not your mother, and certainly not him. You were merely a title, a pawn in a game too complex to fully understand. And perhaps, in this moment, that was the one thing you shared—an unspoken acknowledgment of the distance between who you were and who the world expected you to be.

You first got to know Wonwoo during your first solo trip to Hanju Province at the age of 18. It had been an act of defiance, a way to escape the suffocating expectations placed upon you. Your father, the king, had sent him to find you after your previous lady-in-waiting reported your disappearance. At that time, you believed no one would bother looking for you; after all, you were merely the daughter of the king's concubine, not his legitimate wife. But your assumptions were proven wrong when you came face to face with a familiar figure—a military soldier who had taught all your brothers sword-fighting, archery, and martial arts. He stood before you, unwavering, claiming that the kingdom had been searching for you.

"You know that being my husband will be difficult, right?" you asked, your voice laced with jest, though you already knew the marriage would never happen. You had your own plans—plans that involved running away long before the wedding day arrived.

Wonwoo nodded, his expression unreadable. "I realized that. But being married to someone else, someone other than you, would be even harder." His words caught you off guard, a blush creeping up your neck as you turned your face away in feigned indifference.

You shook your head, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "If position is what you're seeking, Commander Jeon, then you should reconsider. I'm just the daughter of a concubine, not a princess worthy of a powerful alliance."

Wonwoo’s smile remained, softening as he gazed at you with a mixture of admiration and something deeper—something unspoken. He knew better than to believe the narrative you spun. "A concubine's child who plans to run away at midnight on your wedding night, with a horse waiting to carry you to Myeongju, and then cross into Japan? You know you're more than that, Princess."

Your eyes widened in shock, your carefully laid escape plan revealed before you could even act on it. Wonwoo chuckled lightly at your taken aback expression, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "You forget, Ongju, I developed the military strategy of Silla—the same strategy you’ve mastered in your training. You thought I wouldn't notice? I might have misunderstood your heart, but I know how your mind works."

Misunderstood your heart, huh?

You crossed your arms defensively, challenging him with a raised brow. "Then tell me, what's the real reason, Commander Jeon? Maybe I’ll reconsider my little escapade, after all."

There it was again, the challenge in your tone. The same defiance that had always marked you, the same sharp wit that never let anyone underestimate you. And though his gaze softened, there was a glint of determination in his eyes—he wouldn’t back down so easily.

*

Days later, Wonwoo was resting at his residence, savoring a rare moment of peace, when a commotion outside his chambers shattered the stillness. Moments later, his servant entered, bowing deeply as they announced your unexpected visit at an unseemly late hour. Wonwoo's brow furrowed in confusion.

"At this hour?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His tone carried a note of alarm. "Is she alone, or has someone accompanied her?"

"She is alone, Commander," the servant replied hesitantly. "There were no guards with her."

Wonwoo's unease deepened. His residence was far from the palace—a treacherous journey, especially for someone unguarded at night. A flicker of dread crossed his face as he signaled for you to be let in. As you entered the room, Wonwoo's sharp eyes immediately noticed your red-rimmed eyes and the faint trembling of your frame.

Without a word, he dismissed everyone, his voice steady but firm. As the doors closed, you stood before him, your composure cracking beneath the weight of your grief. Wonwoo crossed the room swiftly, his hand instinctively resting on your arm, his voice low and gentle.

"What’s happened?" he asked, though his words faltered when he heard the sound of your muffled sobs. Without hesitation, he pulled you into an embrace, his arms a safe haven against the storm you carried.

You pulled away after a moment, wiping your face, your voice barely above a whisper. "My mother..." you began, struggling to maintain your composure. "The queen poisoned her... and the king is blind to it."

Wonwoo froze, your words slicing through the silence like a blade. His expression darkened as the gravity of your revelation sank in.

"The queen?" he mumbled in disbelief, his voice taut with restrained anger.

You nodded, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "She accused my mother of black magic... as an excuse to kill her. It's nothing but a fabricated crime to justify her hatred."

Wonwoo clenched his jaw, fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

"What about Chan?" Wonwoo asked after a moment, his concern shifting to your younger brother, whom he knew you cherished deeply.

"I left him under Prince Jisoo’s care," you replied, naming your stepbrother, Dokyeom’s elder brother. "I trust him to ensure Chan’s safety."

*

The two of you arrived at the concubine's residence, where your mother had lived. Wonwoo stood still, his gaze fixed on the grim scene before him. Guards carried your mother’s lifeless body out of the residence while palace staff meticulously inspected her chambers. The air was thick with whispers and accusations, all revolving around one word: black magic. It was the alleged cause of your mother's death, a stain on her name that spread like wildfire.

“It’s the queen! I know it must be her, Commander Jeon!” you had cried earlier in his residence, your voice cracking with grief and rage. You had witnessed your mother’s final moments—her collapse following a refreshment you suspected had been sent by the queen.

Wonwoo’s voice was steady but low as he asked, “What reason would the queen have?”

You bit your trembling lip before replying, “She feels threatened by me.”

Wonwoo glanced back at the scene, his jaw tightening as inspectors began removing items from your mother’s chambers. Among them were forbidden objects—items associated with the practice of black magic. These, they claimed, were evidence of her guilt. The murmurs around you grew louder, but Wonwoo’s resolve was firm. He believed you. He had met your mother on several occasions; she was a woman of grace and dignity, not one who would consort with dark practices.

“Exile,” you said, your voice hollow yet resolute. “She wants me exiled. This was her plan all along.”

The weight of your words settled heavily on him. To him, it felt like a game of politics played with the highest stakes—your life. And now, with your mother’s death, it seemed as though the queen's schemes were nearing completion.

The rumors spread swiftly, infiltrating every corner of the palace. Servants whispered about the daughter of a supposed black magic practitioner, speculating that you might share her guilt. The court’s whispers had turned into accusations.

Wonwoo found himself standing behind the ministers during an emergency meeting in the throne room. The tension in the air was palpable as the king presided over the gathering. Everyone of importance was present—prime ministers, the chief of palace staff, and even Buddhist elders summoned to weigh in on the grave situation.

“She has been a rebellious royal from the start,” one minister began, his voice laced with disdain.

“She defied the royal decree by refusing marriage at the age of coming and choosing instead to join the military program for women,” another added.

“She has shown clear disdain for her fiancé, Commander Jeon,” someone else chimed in, their tone accusatory.

“Your Highness,” one of the Buddhist elders spoke gravely, “we believe that the princess’s behavior is a direct result of black magic’s influence.”

The king’s grip on his armrest tightened, his knuckles whitening as his patience wore thin. The audacity of these men to speak ill of his only daughter, here in his court, was more than he could tolerate.

“Are you implying,” the king thundered, rising from his seat, “that my daughter’s bravery, her accomplishments, and her vision for this kingdom are nothing but the result of sorcery?” His voice echoed through the hall, silencing the murmurs. “How dare you! How dare you call my daughter a witch!”

The room fell deathly silent, save for the sound of the king slamming his fist against his chair. His fury was a tempest, swirling around the court as everyone lowered their heads in fear.

“No one is permitted to utter another word about this case until the truth is uncovered,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “If I hear even a whisper of this outside these walls, whoever is responsible will face the full weight of my wrath. Do I make myself clear?”

The ministers and officials nodded hastily, their faces pale.

“Dismissed!” the king barked, waving his hand sharply. The room quickly emptied, but the tension lingered like an unshakable shadow.

Unexpectedly, Wonwoo was summoned to the king's residence. The air was thick with an unspoken urgency as he entered the grand room. The king, seated at the center, waved his hand, silently commanding the attendants to leave. Within moments, the two of them were alone, the heavy silence punctuated only by the crackle of the brazier.

“Commander Jeon,” the king began, his voice steady but laden with sorrow. “I want you to lead an investigation, alongside the Hwarang.”

Wonwoo stiffened, his military training keeping his emotions in check as he absorbed the weight of the order.

“I want this case resolved, and the truth revealed. I cannot accept what has happened, nor can I let the lies about black magic tarnish her memory,” the king continued, setting his cup of tea down with a trembling hand. His face, though stoic, betrayed the grief he felt.

Wonwoo watched as the king’s gaze grew distant, as if the memories of the past had taken hold of him. He knew this wasn’t just about palace politics—this was personal.

“When she was born,” the king said softly, almost to himself, “I threw a grand feast. I was ecstatic to have a daughter—a daughter born of the woman I loved more than anything in this world.” His voice faltered, and he drew a shaky breath. “Y/n has always reminded me of her. And now…” He trailed off, the weight of your mother’s death hanging heavily in the room.

The king looked directly at Wonwoo, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I cannot let harm come to Y/n. She is the only piece of her I have left. She is just like her mother—courageous, kind, and unyielding.”

Wonwoo felt his throat tighten. The king’s words revealed a vulnerability he had never witnessed before—a father mourning not only the loss of a woman he cherished but also fearing for the safety of the daughter she left behind.

“I will find the truth, Your Majesty,” Wonwoo said, his voice firm with determination. “I will not let any harm come to the princess.”

The king nodded, his expression hardening into resolve. “Good. I trust you, Commander Jeon. Ensure that this investigation uncovers the truth, no matter how deeply it is buried. And keep Y/n safe. If anything were to happen to her…” His voice broke, and he did not finish the thought, but the weight of his unspoken words was clear.

Wonwoo bowed deeply. “You have my word, Your Majesty.”

As he straightened, he caught the king’s gaze once more—a silent plea in the eyes of a father clinging to the last thread of his love.

*

"I know your deep desire, Princess Y/n." Wonwoo's words during his last visit echoed relentlessly in your mind. What did he mean by "deep desire"? His words seemed layered, carrying a depth you couldn’t immediately decipher. How did your desires intertwine with his plans? And why did they serve as the foundation for the marriage the two of you were destined to have?

"Join an alliance with me, and I’ll help you," he had said.

You were still pondering his intentions when your lady-in-waiting entered your room hurriedly. "The king wishes to see you, Ongju," she announced.

Without delay, you made your way to the king’s residence. As your presence was announced, you stepped into his private quarters. The room smelled faintly of ink and sandalwood. Your father sat at his desk, penning a poem while one of his attendants poured tea for both of you.

You bowed deeply, standing before him.

“Sit, my daughter,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

The air felt heavy with unspoken emotions as you took your place.

“I am as shaken as you are by what has happened, Ongju,” the king began, his tone somber but steady. “But as the ruler of this kingdom, I must be fair and just.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“I have ordered an investigation into your mother’s alleged association with black magic,” he continued, his eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You clenched your fists under the table and took a deep breath. “I swear on my life, Your Highness, my mother was not involved in such practices.”

The king set down his brush, his face lined with fatigue. “I can only speak after the investigation yields its results. In the meantime, I need you to stay low and avoid any actions that may draw unnecessary attention. This case involves you as well, and I want no further harm to come to you.”

His words were well-meaning, but they did little to quell the storm within you.

“And,” he added, “your marriage is approaching. I expect you to prepare yourself for it.”

You felt a pang of disbelief. Your mother had just died, and yet your father still clung to the idea of your marriage as if it were the only thing tethering your future to safety.

“I refuse this marriage,” you said softly but firmly, your voice carrying a note of defiance.

The king’s movements froze, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You can’t refuse, Ongju. If you do, the court will turn its judgmental gaze upon you, and rumors will spread. You must consider your reputation.”

“What reputation, Your Highness?” you countered, your voice trembling with frustration. “I am merely the daughter of a concubine. My presence holds no real weight in this palace.”

The king’s expression softened, though his resolve remained. “Is it Commander Jeon you do not like? I can find another suitor if that’s the issue.”

You shook your head, bowing respectfully. “It is not about Commander Jeon or anyone else. I simply do not believe marriage will bring me happiness.”

For the first time, your father’s expression shifted into something you hadn’t seen before—an almost pleading vulnerability. “You are my only daughter, Ongju,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what would make you happy?”

The room fell into silence, the question lingering in the air. You opened your mouth, but no words came. Because, deep down, happiness wasn’t something you were focused on. Your mind was preoccupied with fear—fear of the queen, fear for your brother Chan, fear of the same fate that had befallen your mother.

After a long pause, you blurted out, “A sword.”

The king blinked, surprised. “A sword?”

You nodded, regaining some composure. “A strong, sharp, and powerful sword. That’s all I need.”

A faint smile touched the king’s lips. “I’ve heard of your mastery with the sword during your time in the Wonhwa. If the group hadn’t been disbanded due to internal strife, you might have been a leader among them.”

Your heart stilled at his words. Did he truly believe that? Had your father ever said something similar about Seungcheol, the crown prince?

The question clawed at you, especially since Jisoo had recently confided something that echoed in your mind. “Seungcheol can’t fight with a sword,” Jisoo had said. “He’s not the one you need to worry about. He doesn’t have the strength. But the queen…”

Jisoo had gripped your shoulder that day, his voice lowering to a grave tone. “The queen will do anything to secure his throne. Anything—including what happened to your mother.”

Jisoo’s words haunted you now as your father spoke. “You have great potential, Ongju. Many believe you could one day lead, even without being in the line of succession.”

The weight of those words pressed down on you, but they did nothing to ease your fear. The queen—her ambition, her cunning—was the true danger. She would stop at nothing, and you knew it.

“Stay vigilant, my daughter,” the king said, his tone gentle but firm.

But vigilance wasn’t enough. Your heart thudded in your chest as one thought consumed you: Was the deep desire Wonwoo was implying truly this feeling? This burning, unspoken ambition that lingered in the shadows of your heart—the desire to rule the kingdom?

You sat by the window of your chambers, the pale moonlight casting long shadows across the room. Wonwoo’s words lingered, ambiguous yet purposeful.

"Join an alliance with me, and I’ll help you."

What alliance? Help you with what? Did he mean to protect you from the queen or guide you toward something greater?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a faint knock at the door.

“Ongju,” your lady-in-waiting whispered, “Commander Jeon has sent a message. He requests your presence in the gardens.”

You hesitated, your heart beating faster. It wasn’t unusual for Wonwoo to seek you out, but tonight felt different. There was a weight to his recent words, a significance that you couldn’t shake.

Rising from your seat, you made your way to the gardens. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and damp earth. Wonwoo stood under a lantern’s glow, his figure tall and commanding.

“Commander,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the questions swirling in your mind.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Princess Y/n,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of formality and something more personal.

There was a moment of silence, charged with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he stepped closer, his eyes meeting yours.

“Do you understand now?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Your breath caught. “Understand what?”

“The deep desire I spoke of,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not just ambition, Ongju. It’s purpose. A purpose only you can fulfill.”

You stared at him, his words striking a chord deep within you. Purpose. The word felt heavier than ambition, more profound. Purpose wasn’t just about power or ruling; it was about responsibility, about rising to meet the challenges that others could not.

“Why do you believe in me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

Wonwoo’s lips curved into the faintest smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Because I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And because I know that without you, this kingdom has no future.”

His words were both a compliment and a burden, wrapping around you like a cloak you weren’t sure you were ready to wear.

“Do you think this is what I want?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, his tone was steady. “It’s not about what you want, Princess. It’s about what the kingdom needs.”

And with that, he bowed slightly and stepped back into the shadows, leaving you alone under the moonlit sky with the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest.

*

The queen’s private chamber was dimly lit, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. Crown Prince Seungcheol sat across from the queen, his hands clasped tightly together, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain. The queen watched him intently, her sharp eyes missing nothing as she delicately sipped her tea.

“You seem restless, my son,” the queen began, her voice smooth yet probing. “A ruler cannot afford to show unease, especially in these turbulent times.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “I am aware, Mother. I simply... I find myself questioning—” He stopped short, unsure whether to reveal the vulnerability gnawing at him.

“Questioning what?” The queen set her cup down, leaning forward with a calculated softness. “Speak plainly.”

He hesitated, then exhaled deeply. “Am I truly ready to rule, Mother? I have been trained for this my entire life, but I cannot shake the feeling that I lack the strength or the decisiveness required. Father’s shadow looms large over me... and the court whispers about my shortcomings.”

The queen’s expression hardened slightly, though her voice remained calm. “Who dares to whisper such things? You are the crown prince, the future king. Your authority is not to be questioned.”

“But they do,” Seungcheol countered, his tone edged with frustration. “They compare me to Y/n, of all people. They say she possesses the qualities of a ruler—courage, intelligence, and the ability to command respect. Even Father...” His voice faltered, and he looked away, ashamed to meet her eyes.

The queen’s gaze sharpened at the mention of you, her expression unreadable. She stood and moved to stand behind Seungcheol, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your father is a sentimental man. He lets emotions cloud his judgment, especially when it comes to that girl and her late mother.”

Seungcheol’s fists clenched. “But what if they are right? What if I am not enough to uphold Silla’s legacy? I have no skill with the sword, no military prowess like Y/n or Commander Jeon. How can I inspire loyalty in the people when I doubt myself?”

The queen’s grip on his shoulder tightened, her voice dropping to a firm whisper. “Listen to me, Seungcheol. Leadership is not about swinging a sword or marching into battle. It is about strategy, control, and ensuring that power remains where it belongs—within our family. Do not let the court’s foolish admiration for Y/n distract you. She is a threat, not an ally. And as for your father, he is blind to what must be done.”

Seungcheol glanced up at her, his insecurity mingling with confusion. “What must be done?”

The queen leaned closer, her voice a venomous whisper. “You must solidify your position as the rightful heir. That means eliminating anything—or anyone—that stands in your way. Trust me, my son, I will guide you. Together, we will secure your future.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as Seungcheol absorbed her words. His mother’s unwavering confidence in him was both reassuring and suffocating. Deep down, the doubts still lingered, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. But for now, he nodded, letting the queen’s words anchor him.

“Thank you, Mother. I will do what is necessary,” he said, though the conviction in his voice wavered ever so slightly.

The queen smiled, a triumphant gleam in her eyes as she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Good. Remember, Seungcheol, weakness has no place on the throne. You were born to rule, and I will ensure that you do.”

As the crown prince left the chamber, his heart felt heavy. The weight of the crown seemed more daunting than ever, and in the deepest corners of his mind, the question still lingered: Am I truly enough?

*

"Seja..." Seungcheol slightly inclined his head toward Wonwoo, who stepped aside to make way for the crown prince. The pathway was dimly lit, the faint flicker of torches casting long shadows on the park. Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on the commander, curiosity simmering beneath his composed exterior.

“It’s rather late to visit the palace at this hour, Commander Jeon,” Seungcheol remarked, his tone measured but laced with subtle inquiry. His words hung in the air as his eyes shifted to the figure standing quietly behind Wonwoo.

You.

The two of you locked eyes, a brief but charged moment that didn’t escape Seungcheol’s notice. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something—resentment, perhaps, or something deeper and more convoluted.

“Ongju...” Seungcheol acknowledged your presence with a slight nod, the formality of his gesture betraying none of his inner turmoil.

You bowed respectfully. “Seja.”

“I offer my condolences for your mother’s passing,” he said, his voice softer now, though it carried the weight of protocol more than sincerity.

“Thank you, Seja,” you replied, your voice steady but laced with the exhaustion of grief.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted between you and Wonwoo, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the unspoken tension between the two of you. There was something in the way you stood—close, but not too close—that unsettled him. Something he couldn’t quite place but disliked nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, he straightened. “Ongju, I wish for you to maintain a low profile during the investigation,” he said, his tone edged with authority. “This is for your sake, as your brother.”

A beat passed before he added, “And also for the sake of your late mother.”

Your lips parted, but no response came. The weight of his words, or perhaps the weight of the circumstances, seemed to anchor you in place.

Seungcheol watched you for a moment longer, his chest tightening as he took in your expression—guarded, resilient, and yet fragile in a way that made him want to look away.

Jealousy stirred within him, raw and bitter. He hated himself for feeling it, but there it was. You, the daughter of a concubine, the half-sibling he’d never quite known how to regard, commanded attention in a way he never could. You bore the strength of a warrior, the sharpness of a strategist, and the charisma of a leader. And though he was the crown prince—the one destined to rule—he couldn’t ignore the whispers that dared to compare him to you.

“Ongju, remember,” he said, his voice tight as he forced his emotions down, “your actions reflect on the royal family. Do not give them more reasons to talk.”

With that, he nodded once more and turned to leave, his steps brisk as if eager to escape the suffocating air of his own insecurities.

Behind him, you and Wonwoo stood in silence. If Seungcheol had glanced back, he might have seen the fleeting look of determination in your eyes or the way Wonwoo’s gaze softened ever so slightly as he glanced at you.

But Seungcheol didn’t look back. He couldn’t bear to. The jealousy and doubt simmering within him were enough to carry him through the long, lonely walk back to his residence.

*

"First, we need to ensure Chan’s safety. He shouldn’t be anywhere near the Queen’s reach. I’ll have one of my most trusted Hwarang escort him to a safe location—somewhere even her spies wouldn’t think to look."

The day Chan was sent away was one of the hardest you’d ever faced. Watching your little brother climb into the carriage with a Hwarang soldier by his side, you struggled to hold back tears. His wide, innocent eyes looked up at you, confused yet trusting. He didn’t understand why he had to leave, why he couldn’t stay with you. You knelt in front of him, smoothing his hair and forcing a smile onto your face.

"Be good, Chan," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. "This isn’t forever. I’ll come for you soon, I promise."

"Why can’t you come with me, Nuna?" he asked softly, his small hands clutching at your sleeves.

Your heart shattered, but you managed to keep your composure. "Because I have to stay here and make sure everything is safe for you. But don’t worry. You’re with someone I trust, and they’ll take care of you."

Chan nodded slowly, his innocence only making the pain worse. As the carriage pulled away, you stood there, your hands clenched tightly at your sides. Wonwoo, who had been standing silently nearby, stepped closer.

"You did the right thing," he said quietly.

"It doesn’t feel like it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo didn’t respond, but his presence alone was grounding. You couldn’t afford to let your emotions control you—not when there was so much at stake.

Returning to the palace, you threw yourself into work, hoping it would distract you from the ache in your chest. Your father had tasked you with assisting him in managing a pressing political issue with the government. It was a rare opportunity, one that you were determined to make the most of.

However, to your dismay, the King insisted that Seungcheol work alongside you.

The tension between the two of you was palpable the moment you entered the meeting room. Seungcheol leaned against the table, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. As you took your seat, he let out a low sigh.

"I didn’t know the King was sending a scholar to handle matters of state," he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You shot him a sharp glare. "And I didn’t know the Crown Prince would approach this meeting with the grace of a petulant child. Perhaps I overestimated you, Seja."

The staff in the room shifted uncomfortably, their gazes darting between the two of you.

Seungcheol straightened, his tone hardening. "Be careful, Ongju. You may have studied politics, but theory is far different from reality. I’ve been working in the field while you’ve been... buried in books."

You felt your temper flare, and before you could stop yourself, the words were out. "Oh, yes, I forgot. While I was being trained academically, you were busy getting married and... indulging yourself. Forgive me for thinking I might actually have something to contribute."

The room fell deathly silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. The staff froze, their eyes wide with shock. Even Seungcheol looked taken aback, though his expression quickly darkened.

Before the situation could escalate further, Jisoo stepped into the room. "Enough," he said firmly, his tone commanding.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. "Ongju, a word."

You clenched your jaw but followed him out of the room. Once you were alone, Jisoo turned to face you, his usual warmth replaced by sternness.

"That was reckless," he said bluntly. "Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?"

"He was belittling me!" you protested, your voice rising.

"And you played right into his hands," Jisoo countered. "Seungcheol has the Queen behind him. You may be the King’s daughter, but you’re not untouchable. If you keep provoking him, you’ll make yourself a target."

You looked away, frustration and shame mingling in your chest. "I can’t just stand by while he questions my abilities. I’ve worked too hard for that."

"I know," Jisoo said, his voice softening slightly. "But you need to be smarter about this. Use your knowledge, your training. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you."

You nodded reluctantly, his words sinking in.

"You're going to get married so, this isn’t just about you," Jisoo added, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "If you’re going through with this, you need to make sure Commander Jeon is safe. The Queen will see him as a threat—if she hasn’t already. And you know what she’s capable of."

The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"You need to protect him, Y/n," Jisoo continued, his eyes locking onto yours. "If you truly care for him, you’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe."

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. You nodded slowly, your mind racing with thoughts of Wonwoo, the Queen, and the danger that loomed over all of you.

"I understand," you said quietly.

Jisoo leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. "Good. Just... be careful. You’ve always been strong, but strength alone won’t be enough this time."

*

Today was the wedding day. You sat still as the servants carefully applied colorful powder to your face, their gentle touches a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions brewing within you. Draped in the heavy, ornate wedding gown, you stared at your own reflection in the mirror, whispering to yourself, "You are ready for this."

Whispers had rippled through the palace when you declared your decision to marry Commander Jeon—especially when you insisted the wedding be arranged without delay. It was a decision made with an urgency few understood. Yet here you were, an hour before the ceremony, your heart steady but your mind racing.

The last time you saw your groom was a week ago. He had invited you to his residence for tea, a quiet meeting where you discussed your future. Would you remain within the palace walls, or would you stepawayy with him beyond the capital?

"Why must I leave the palace to live with you?" you had asked, a touch of defiance in your tone as you sipped your tea. "Shouldn't you be the one to follow me, Commander Jeon?"

Wonwoo’s calm gaze met yours, and for a moment, the soft rustle of the wind outside seemed louder than the silence between you.

"Because you would be safer away from here," he said quietly.

Your hand paused, the delicate porcelain cup just shy of your lips. The words lingered, heavy with unspoken fears. You set the cup down, studying his expression.

"You noticed," you murmured.

He nodded, his composed demeanor unwavering. "I am aware of the dangers, but that is not the only reason I suggested leaving."

The stillness stretched, a quiet understanding forming between you. Wonwoo didn’t press further, instead reaching for the teapot, refilling your cup with a slow, steady hand.

"I will ensure you are safe," he promised, his voice calm but resolute. "Think about what you want—where you wish to be. Leave the rest to me."

In that moment, surrounded by the warm scent of tea and the gentle light filtering through the wooden screens, you felt something rare and precious—security.

Now, staring at your reflection, you recalled that feeling. Amid the palace’s whispered schemes and the lurking shadows of betrayal, you were about to marry a man who saw through the veils of deception that others wore.

You lowered your arms slowly as the ceremony unfolded around you, the murmurs of the crowd blending with the soft music that filled the grand hall. For the first time, your gaze met his, and everything else seemed to fade away.

The grand wedding was a spectacle—an event fit for the King’s only daughter. Nobles, officials, and foreign dignitaries filled the palace, their excitement palpable. The King’s affection for you was evident in the lavish celebration, a grand feast prepared for his people beyond the palace walls. Laughter and music echoed, a shared joy that seemed to ripple through everyone present.

But amidst the grandeur, you stood beneath the ornate canopy, your eyes locked with his. Your heart raced—not with fear, like the frantic pulse you’d felt when evading a palace guard on a late-night adventure, nor with the wild rush of adrenaline that came from facing danger in the forest. No, this was different.

Your heart’s rhythm was a steady, reassuring beat. A quiet promise whispered beneath the surface: Everything will be alright. You are safe.

And somehow, the resentment you once harbored for him—those unspoken grudges and unhealed wounds—seemed to melt away, leaving you with a sense of calm you hadn’t expected. Standing there, with him watching you just as intently, you felt something shift within you, something that kept you grounded, not out of resistance, but out of trust.

The room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of candlelight, their flickering flames casting gentle, wavering shadows on the silk-draped walls. The faint scent of jasmine hung in the air, a calming fragrance that only seemed to heighten your awareness of the moment.

You stood near the window, fingers lightly tracing the intricate embroidery of your wedding gown. The weight of the heavy fabric was a constant reminder of the day’s grand celebration, the laughter, the cheers, and the vows exchanged. Yet now, in the quiet solitude of your chamber, the world outside seemed a distant memory.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and you turned, catching sight of Wonwoo stepping inside. He had changed out of his formal attire, now clad in a simple, dark robe that contrasted with the light of the candles. His gaze met yours, steady yet unreadable, a quiet intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Silence stretched between you, thick and charged. Your heartbeat quickened, but it wasn’t the same fear or anxiety that had gripped you in the past. This was different—a fluttering warmth, a delicate anticipation that made your palms slightly damp.

“You must be tired,” he finally spoke, his voice a soft murmur, breaking the quiet yet somehow deepening the intimacy.

“A little,” you admitted, your voice steady but your heart racing. “But not enough to want this night to end.”

A faint smile touched the corners of Wonwoo’s lips, and he stepped closer, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. When he was only a breath away, he reached out, his hand brushing against the loose strands of your hair. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant.

“Did you… did you mean it?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. “When you said you’d keep me safe?”

“I did.” His answer was immediate, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, a sense of security that you had long forgotten. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the closeness.

Then his fingers moved, gently tilting your chin up, and you opened your eyes to find his face mere inches from yours. His gaze flickered, searching your expression, as if seeking permission.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned forward, letting your lips brush against his—a tentative, delicate touch that seemed to ignite something within both of you.

Wonwoo’s hand slid to your waist, drawing you closer as the kiss deepened, the softness giving way to a quiet passion. His other hand cradled the side of your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

Time seemed to blur, the world beyond the room fading away. All that existed was the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and the quiet, whispered promises shared between breaths.

When you finally parted, your foreheads resting against one another, a gentle smile graced his lips. “We have a long journey ahead, but… tonight, it’s just us.”

You smiled back, your own worries and fears melting away in his warmth.

Just us.

And with that, the night unfolded—soft touches, quiet laughter, and whispered confessions beneath the soft glow of candlelight. In his arms, you found a solace you hadn’t dared to dream of, a tenderness that promised a future beyond fear and doubt.

*

"It will be hard for a pregnant woman to lead the upcoming project." The minister’s assistant’s voice cut through the meeting chamber like a blade, his audacity stirring a ripple of tension across the room. You raised a brow, your gaze snapping to the man who dared to make such a bold, presumptive statement barely a week after your wedding. Pregnant? You weren’t even with child, but the mere suggestion of it was enough for him to undermine you.

Your gaze slid to Seungcheol, who sat at the head of the chamber, his composed expression barely shifting, save for a slow, almost imperceptible nod. He agreed.

"Isn't that why the Princess Consort has yet to resume her duties for the Moonlight Event?" you countered, your voice calm but edged with a subtle challenge. The words weren’t just a retort; they were a pointed reminder. Seungcheol’s wife, the Princess Consort, had recently given birth to a daughter—a fact you knew all too well.

The assistant stiffened, his expression faltering. Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his gaze meeting yours. The tension in the room thickened, an unspoken clash of authority.

"She has just given birth... to a daughter," you added, your gaze never leaving Seungcheol’s. The implication was clear: if his wife could be granted leniency due to motherhood, then there was no reason for anyone to cast doubt on your capacity to lead.

The minister cleared his throat, desperate to steer the meeting away from the growing unease. "Given the considerations presented," he announced, his voice slightly strained, "Ongju Y/n will continue to lead the project related to external affairs."

A polite smile graced your lips as the meeting concluded, but beneath it, a fierce determination simmered. You were not just a princess, not just a wife—you were a leader. And no one, not even Seungcheol or his silent approval of the assistant’s slight, would diminish that.

"That was bold," Jisoo remarked, falling into step beside you as you walked back to the office. His voice was calm, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

You cast a brief glance at your older brother before your gaze shifted to the training grounds, where Commander Jeon—your husband—stood tall, addressing the new Hwarang recruits with his usual unwavering demeanor.

"I have no reason to fear him," you stated plainly, your tone edged with defiance. "His mother is the true snake."

Jisoo’s expression shifted, his amusement replaced by alarm. "We shouldn’t speak of the Queen in such a manner," he whispered urgently, his voice barely above a breath.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes, we can. And we will. We will speak of the Queen however we see fit—especially when I become Queen."

Jisoo’s eyes widened slightly, your words rendering him momentarily speechless. His usual composure faltered as he studied your face, searching for any hint of hesitation. But there was none.

Not waiting for a response, you resumed your stride, your steps swift and purposeful. From the training grounds, Wonwoo’s sharp eyes caught sight of you—your figure moving with fierce resolve. He watched you, a faint sense of awe mingling with his curiosity. In that moment, you looked like someone prepared to set the entire kingdom ablaze if necessary.

He had known you possessed a spark, but now it was as though a fire had been ignited within you.

And as he observed you, a quiet thought settled in his mind—had he, perhaps, been the one to light that flame? Or had he merely uncovered a side of you that had always been waiting to burn just like his plan?

*

Wonwoo rode out of the capital under the cloak of night, the rhythmic thud of his horse’s hooves a steady companion on the quiet, moonlit path. After ensuring you were safely asleep in your chamber, he slipped away, the chill of the night air biting at his skin as he traveled for two hours beyond the bustling city.

His destination was a secluded village nestled among misty hills—a place few knew he frequented. Here, he wasn’t Commander Jeon, the King’s esteemed military leader. He was simply Wonwoo, a son of the fallen Jeon Kingdom. His colleagues here were not Hwarang warriors or palace officials but the remnants of his bloodline—the left Jeons.

These were the people who had survived the brutal Silla invasion, who had fled with nothing but their lives and the shattered pride of their fallen kingdom. His uncle, a former commander of the Jeon Kingdom, had raised him among these survivors, forging him into a man who bore the weight of two identities. Wonwoo was taught not just to survive but to excel. He mastered politics, combat, and military strategy under his uncle’s strict guidance.

The fall of the Jeon Kingdom was a story written in blood and ash—a once-proud realm crushed beneath Silla’s might. Yet in the shadows of this village, the Jeons lived on, rebuilding a life far from the eyes of the conquerors. Wonwoo was their hope, their quiet vengeance, a man who had clawed his way into the very heart of Silla’s military—becoming a Commander of the Hwarang, the elite force of the kingdom that had destroyed his home.

Tonight, as he dismounted his horse and walked among his kin, the whispers of old stories and the weight of his lineage pressed heavily upon him. Here, he was not just a commander—he was a prince without a throne, a leader of a scattered people who saw him as a symbol of resilience and a future they had not given up on.

"Looking good after a marriage, Wonwoo..." Jungkook, his cousin, teased with a grin as Wonwoo dismounted his horse, the familiar warmth of the hidden village greeting him. The moonlight bathed the settlement, its humble houses a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace.

Wonwoo's lips curled into a faint smile as he approached Jungkook, handing over the reins. But before he could reply, a familiar voice rang out, full of excitement.

"Commander Jeon!" Chan’s voice cut through the crisp night air, and moments later, the boy came running, his small frame colliding against Wonwoo in an eager hug.

Wonwoo’s expression softened. "How are you, Prince?" he asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

"I miss my sister. Did you bring her today?" Chan looked up, eyes wide with hope.

Wonwoo shook his head, the gentleness in his gaze unwavering. "She’s been busy these days, but I promise to let her know you miss her."

The sound of steady footsteps approached, and Wonwoo turned to see his uncle, Donghyuk, stepping out of the main chamber, his weathered face breaking into a subtle smile at the sight of his nephew.

"How’s the wedding? Are you staying tonight?" Donghyuk asked, his voice a mix of concern and pride.

Wonwoo gave a slight bow before falling into step beside his uncle, leading them toward the quiet of the residence. "I can’t stay long. I’ll leave before dawn. But I wanted to report on our progress. I’m working hard on our plan, Uncle."

Donghyuk nodded, his expression one of cautious approval. "Good job, son. Your parents would be proud. We’re getting there."

Behind them, Chan laughed brightly, already engrossed in some playful banter with Jungkook. Yet as Wonwoo stepped into the residence, the warmth faded, replaced by the weight of his hidden duty. The shadow of their shared legacy loomed ever closer, and he knew that each step he took brought them one step nearer to their long-awaited retribution.

Wonwoo settled into the dimly lit chamber, the heavy scent of burning incense mingling with the damp, earthy aroma of the secluded residence. His uncle, Donghyuk, leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on his nephew. Jungkook stood by the window, his playful demeanor replaced with a serious expression.

"You've done well," Donghyuk began, his voice a low rumble. "Marrying the Ongju—King’s only daughter. Our bloodline finally has a foothold in their palace."

Wonwoo’s expression remained unreadable, his jaw tense. "Efforts had paid. She trusts me more than she realizes now. And soon, she will trust me enough to do anything I say."

Donghyuk’s lips curled into a thin smile. "Good. You must keep her close. Make her see you as the only ally she can rely on. If we are to bring down the Queen and the King, we need someone on the inside—someone who can move freely, make decisions without suspicion."

Jungkook’s voice cut in, sharp and direct. "But what about the King? He is no fool. Even if the Queen falls, he may stand in our way."

"That’s why we need Seungcheol," Wonwoo stated, his voice cold. "He despises the King’s power over the court, and he resents me. But his jealousy toward his sister can be useful. I will manipulate their strained relationship, turn it into a wedge between them."

"And then?" Donghyuk asked, his gaze sharpening.

Wonwoo leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a darkness that matched the room’s shadows. "Then we use her. With her as a pawn, we can dismantle the King’s power and take the throne."

A silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. Finally, Donghyuk chuckled. "A Jeon as Queen of Silla. Poetic justice, wouldn't you say?"

Wonwoo didn’t respond, his expression cold and calculated. The warmth he showed you—the gentle touches, the soft smiles—were all part of a carefully woven lie.

"We will avenge our people," he declared, his voice low but laced with resolve. "And Silla will fall by its own greed and betrayal."

*

"Where were you this morning?"

Wonwoo's focus shifted to you as you stepped into his office, a commanding presence in the kingdom's staff uniform. The external affairs badge sat proudly on your shoulder, and a stack of books rested in your arms. You looked every bit the charismatic diplomat, a stark contrast to the serene, angelic figure he watched sleeping just last night.

"You're staring," you noted, crossing your arms and tilting your head, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

Wonwoo sighed, feeling a faint tension in his chest as he shook off his thoughts. "Your father summoned me regarding your mother's case. We found proof."

Your eyes widened, the books slipping slightly in your grasp. "Really? My mother... she wasn't at fault, right?"

Wonwoo nodded, reaching for a scroll on his desk. He unfurled it with a practiced ease, revealing the findings of months of investigation. "We uncovered a potential motive involving the Queen, but we still need a witness. I believe the Queen has ensured that everyone involved in your mother's death is either silenced or loyal to her."

A sharp breath escaped your lips. "Is the Queen going to be sentenced?"

Wonwoo's dark eyes lingered on you, his expression careful. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "She might."

Your knees buckled, and you sank onto the cold stone floor. Relief and shock washed over you in equal measure. You had always suspected the truth, yet seeing it confirmed felt like a blade twisting in your chest. Your mother was murdered—accused of black magic by the Queen, all to tear you away from any claim to the throne.

"You look... startled," Wonwoo remarked, his voice softer now, tinged with something unreadable.

You shook your head, wiping a faint trace of moisture from your eyes. "Was it because of me?"

Wonwoo's brow arched slightly. "What do you mean?"

"The Queen killed my mother. Was it because of me?" you whispered, a tremor in your voice.

A brief silence hung between you before Wonwoo spoke, each word measured. "There's no specific motive yet. But it seems she wanted to secure our Seja's place... and to do that, removing your mother's influence was necessary."

"And that influence... was from me."

Wonwoo’s gaze softened, but his voice remained steady. "It was not your fault."

But in the quiet that followed, you weren’t so sure.

That night, the moon hung low, casting silver light over the palace gardens. Wonwoo waited by the secluded pavilion just outside the palace walls, his figure blending with the shadows. His eyes scanned the path until he saw you approaching, wrapped in a dark cloak to avoid attention.

"You came," he said, a hint of relief escaping in his voice despite himself.

"Of course," you replied, pulling the hood away from your face. The moonlight touched your features, the cool breeze tousling your hair. "I need to know more... how can I secure justice for my mother?"

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened, his expression serious. "The only way to ensure justice is for you to take a stronger position in court. As long as the Queen’s influence over the ministers remains, any accusations against her will be buried."

You frowned, your fingers nervously toying with the edge of your cloak. "But I’m just a princess—no real power in the court’s decisions." The tone in your words showed a vulnerability he had never heard before.

"Not yet," Wonwoo corrected, his voice firm. "But if you strengthen your alliances, build trust with the right ministers, and show them your capability... you can turn the tide."

"And you... you’ll help me?"

Wonwoo met your gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Always."

Your shoulders seemed to relax, and there it was again—that smile. Genuine, grateful. A warmth spread in his chest, a feeling he tried to deny.

"Thank you, Wonwoo..." you whispered, stepping closer. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Wonwoo felt his breath hitch for a moment, your proximity disarming him. He nodded, forcing his voice to stay steady. "I’m just doing what’s right."

As you turned to leave, the shadows seemed colder without you. Wonwoo stood there for a moment, watching your figure disappear into the moonlit path. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his mind racing.

She trusts me.

But for the first time, the thought didn’t bring satisfaction. It brought guilt.

*

"It's not a sin to stare at your wife," Jisoo's teasing voice seeped into Wonwoo's ears, pulling him back to reality. Wonwoo shifted his gaze from you, where you stood across the training grounds, back to Jisoo and Seungcheol, who were sparring with swords.

"I'm not staring. I'm monitoring," Wonwoo muttered, adjusting his grip on his sword. "One more round," he added, signaling another bout. Jisoo groaned, wiping the sweat from his forehead, while Seungcheol got back into position without complaint.

Laughter echoed from the other side of the field—your laughter, light and melodic. You stood beside the younger trainees, Seungkwan and Dokyeom, showing them proper sword techniques and gently calming Seungkwan, who was rubbing his head after a clumsy blow from Dokyeom.

"Are we going to witness another spar between the Seja and Ongju?" Dokyeom asked innocently once the session ended.

You raised an eyebrow, your gaze shifting to Seungcheol, who was catching his breath after sparring with Jisoo. Meanwhile, Jisoo was already sprawled on the ground, panting.

Seungcheol straightened, gripping his sword again. "I'm always ready, Ongju," he declared, determination flaring in his eyes.

Wonwoo's gaze remained fixed on you. He noticed how your fingers wrapped around your sword—different, more resolute. As you drew it, the sunlight caught the blade, revealing a stunningly ornate weapon with your name engraved on it, adorned with delicate floral patterns. It was new.

A murmur of awe spread among the onlookers, Seungkwan and Dokyeom exchanging excited whispers as they watched. Your skill was undeniable, each movement calculated, each step confident. Yet, Wonwoo noticed you were holding back, your strikes precise but never too forceful.

Yet as the spar continued, something changed. Your strikes grew sharper, your eyes more intense. Seungcheol’s defense faltered under your relentless assault, his sword flying out of his grasp, clattering against the stone floor. He stumbled, gasping for air, and there you stood—your blade inched away against his throat.

"Enough for today." Wonwoo's voice cut through the tension as he swiftly stepped between you and Seungcheol, his hand gently pushing your sword down.

Your eyes, fierce a moment ago, softened at his touch. You took a deep breath, sheathing your sword and looking away.

"You shouldn't let your emotions guide your sword," Wonwoo whispered, his voice low but firm. "It only leads to regret."

You clenched your jaw, your gaze fixed on the ground. "It wasn't emotions... It was control."

Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, the words weighing heavily between you both. And yet, beneath your calm facade, he could sense the storm raging within.

"Draw your sword," Wonwoo instructed, his voice steady as he unsheathed his own. The training field lay quiet and empty, a canvas of fading sunlight catching on the polished blades. It was just the two of you, shadows stretching long on the ground.

"Seja let his emotions get the better of him earlier," Wonwoo continued, guiding you through a familiar technique. His movements were precise, controlled, each swing calculated. "And you almost let yours take over too."

Your swords clashed, the sharp ring of metal slicing through the silence. You adjusted your stance, trying to mirror his movements, but his expertise made it feel like a dance you struggled to keep up with.

"Emotions are a luxury in the field," he reminded you, his voice low but firm. "You should let your head lead everything—your mind should be your weapon, not just your blade."

You gritted your teeth, pushing against his strikes. "I'm from the women's military, Wonwoo. What do you expect?"

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Women are quick learners. They’re agile too. You have an advantage."

In a swift, fluid motion, he twisted his wrist, catching your sword at an angle and pulling your arm. The force made your weapon slip from your grasp, and before you could even react, your body collided with his. His arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you as you let out a surprised squeal.

Your breath hitched, your chest pressing against his. For a second, you were close enough to feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him.

"Are you messing with me?" you murmured, your eyes narrowing at the faint grin on his face.

"Perhaps," he replied, his voice teasing but his gaze unwavering. "But remember—losing focus, even for a moment, can be costly."

Your heart raced, a mix of frustration and something else entirely swirling within you. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself staying there for just a heartbeat longer, caught in the quiet, lingering closeness.

"Argh…"

Wonwoo’s pained groan filled the quiet training field, and you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter, your giggle light and melodic.

"You’re right," you teased, leaning back slightly while still caught in his hold. "Losing focus for even a moment can be costly."

Wonwoo glanced down, seeing your foot firmly planted on his, the sharp ache radiating from the spot. Yet, despite the pain, a chuckle slipped from his lips.

"Noted," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. "But I didn't think you'd take my lesson so literally."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh? I thought a great commander like you would’ve been prepared for any surprise attack."

Wonwoo’s smile widened, and in a swift move, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. "Careful, princess. Provoking your instructor might lead to more intense training."

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, but you maintained your defiant smile. "Is that a threat, Commander Jeon?"

"A promise," he replied, stepping back and letting go of your waist, though his eyes lingered on you for a second longer.

From the upper balcony of the palace overlooking the training field, the King stood silently, his sharp eyes observing the scene below. His stern expression softened as he watched you and Wonwoo. His beloved daughter, always so fierce and resolute, now laughed freely in the presence of her husband. The sound of your laughter, carried by the gentle breeze, reached his ears like a soothing melody.

Beside him, his trusted advisor cleared his throat softly. "Your Majesty, it seems the princess has found comfort in Commander Jeon’s company."

The King’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Comfort? Perhaps. But more importantly, she seems happy."

He had been wary when you insisted on marrying Wonwoo, even more so when the marriage was hastened. There were whispers—speculations that you were driven by something more than love. Yet watching you now, eyes bright and smile unwavering as you bantered with Wonwoo, the King’s doubts faded.

"She has always been strong," the King murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "But even the strongest need someone who can match their strength... and soften their heart."

Wonwoo’s gentle laughter joined yours as he leaned closer, whispering something that made you swat at him playfully. The King chuckled under his breath. His daughter, who once stood as a fierce warrior on the battlefield and an unyielding presence in court, was now a young woman in love—blissfully unaware of his watchful gaze.

"Perhaps Commander Jeon is the right choice," the King whispered, his tone more certain now. "A man who can make her smile so freely might also be the one who can protect her in ways even I cannot."

The advisor nodded but remained silent, recognizing the rare moment of a father’s quiet pride and relief.

Below, you stood with Wonwoo, his voice low and urgent. "The confrontation with the Queen is tomorrow. My team found the black magic tool in her chamber. The same type used against your mother. This is our strongest evidence yet."

Your pulse quickened, and you leaned closer. "So it’s true… she used black magic to murder my mother?"

"It seems so." Wonwoo’s tone was steady. "But you need to be wary of your brother. He might act impulsively. The Queen is his mother, and if he feels cornered—"

"You’ll be there," you whispered, your voice laced with trust.

Wonwoo’s grip on your back tightened slightly. "Yes, I will. But I need you to be ready for everything. This is the moment of truth. Tell me…" His voice softened, his breath brushing against your ear. "What do you want to be?"

Silence settled between you. The wind seemed to hush, the distant hum of the palace growing faint.

"A queen." Your voice was unwavering.

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. His hand moved in soothing circles on your back. "I thought so. Then we will make sure you become one."

Above, the King’s smile only grew, watching you two so close, completely unaware of the quiet storm brewing in his own palace.

*

The next morning, Seungcheol stood by the palace balcony, staring at the distant mountains. The crisp air did little to calm the storm in his chest. Rumors of the Queen's chamber being sealed and whispers of dark artifacts found within had shaken the palace. His mother denied everything when he asked, her voice steady but her eyes avoiding his.

"Seja."

The familiar voice of Commander Jeon pulled him from his thoughts. Wonwoo approached calmly, his expression unreadable.

"You seem troubled," Wonwoo remarked, leaning casually against the railing.

"Of course, I am," Seungcheol replied sharply. "These baseless accusations against my mother… They disrespect the royal family."

"Accusations are dangerous," Wonwoo agreed, his tone neutral. "But avoiding the truth can be even more dangerous."

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Wonwoo’s gaze stayed on the distant courtyard where you stood, speaking with some palace staff. "Loyalty is a fine thing, Seja. But it should never blind you."

"My loyalty is to my family," Seungcheol stated firmly.

"As it should be." Wonwoo turned slightly, his face thoughtful. "And family is not just by blood. It's about those you protect, those you stand beside… those you trust."

Seungcheol’s grip on the balcony tightened. "If you're here to lecture me—"

"Not at all." Wonwoo’s voice was calm, almost warm. "I'm simply reminding you that loyalty to the wrong person can cost you everything."

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. "You speak in riddles, Commander."

"Do I?" Wonwoo finally looked directly at him, his eyes steady. "I speak only of ensuring that those we care about are safe. And that means making difficult choices."

Seungcheol said nothing, his gaze shifting back to you, watching as you laughed with the staff, a bright presence even in the tense atmosphere of the palace.

Wonwoo's voice softened, almost a whisper. "It would be a shame if someone tried to harm her... or use her."

Seungcheol’s breath caught. "Who would dare?"

"Who indeed?" Wonwoo stepped away, his tone light again. "Be careful, Seja. The palace is full of secrets. And those who survive are the ones who choose their allies wisely."

And with that, Wonwoo walked away, leaving Seungcheol in quiet turmoil.

The grand hall was filled with tension as the King sat at the head of the chamber, surrounded by ministers and royal advisors. You stood beside Commander Jeon and his investigation team, the air thick with anticipation. The evidence of the Queen’s dark practices lay displayed—charms, sigils, and artifacts pulled from her private chamber. Wonwoo’s voice was steady as he presented the findings.

"After extensive investigation, we have uncovered these items in the Queen's chamber. The symbols match those of forbidden practices."

Whispers erupted among the ministers. Some looked shocked, others whispered among themselves, and the King’s face darkened with disbelief.

"This is a grave accusation," one minister dared to speak, "Are we certain of their authenticity?"

"My team has verified them," Wonwoo stated confidently. "This is no fabrication."

The doors suddenly burst open, and Seungcheol stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury. "Fabrication? That’s exactly what this is!" he shouted. "This is a scheme orchestrated by them—by her and her husband!"

The room fell silent. The King leaned forward, his face unreadable.

"Seungcheol," his voice was low, "mind your words."

But Seungcheol was beyond reason. His gaze fixated on you. "You have always been a thorn in my mother’s side. And now you bring this falsehood to tear our family apart? Have you no shame?"

You stepped forward, your voice unwavering. "Are you underestimating my husband's professionalism?"

"Professionalism?" Seungcheol scoffed, unsheathing his sword. "This is a coup disguised as justice!"

Before anyone could react, Seungcheol lunged forward, his sword aimed directly at you. Gasps erupted across the chamber.

But Wonwoo was faster. In a heartbeat, he moved between you and Seungcheol, his own sword drawn and his body acting as a shield. Metal clashed with a resounding ring, and Wonwoo’s steely gaze locked with Seungcheol’s.

"Seja! I order you to stop, or I will take your crown prince title for tainting the palace with your recklessness!" the King’s voice boomed, his authority undeniable.

Seungcheol’s face paled, his sword trembling against Wonwoo’s. The room was frozen in silence.

"Step back, Seja," Wonwoo's voice was calm, but his gaze held a quiet warning. "Do not mistake your anger for righteousness."

Seungcheol's breathing was heavy, his rage and desperation clear. But the weight of the King’s words sank in, and slowly, he lowered his sword, stepping back with a glare that could burn through steel.

You exhaled, your hand clutching the back of Wonwoo’s sleeve. Wonwoo’s sword remained up, protecting you until he was certain the threat was gone.

"Escort the crown prince out. He will remain under supervision until this investigation is concluded," the King commanded, and the guards moved immediately.

Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on you, a mix of betrayal and fury, before he was pulled away.

The King’s voice returned to its composed, regal tone. "Commander Jeon, proceed with the presentation. This matter will be judged without bias."

Wonwoo gave a respectful nod, his hand gently touching yours in a silent reassurance. The investigation continued, but the room had already felt the tremor of a family on the edge of a storm.

*

Later that evening, you were summoned to the royal chambers, the air thick with uncertainty. The King’s advisors had left for the night, but the weight of the day’s events lingered heavily in the silence. As you stepped into the dimly lit room, the King was seated by his desk, papers scattered in front of him. He looked older tonight, wearier than usual, as if the pressure of the crown were beginning to take its toll.

"Ongju," he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours. "Come sit with me."

You approached cautiously, wondering what new twist this complicated situation would bring. The King motioned for you to sit across from him, his expression serious.

"I have been thinking," he began, his voice low but steady. "You have shown great strength in recent days, and your actions have proven you are no longer just my daughter."

You blinked, uncertain of where this conversation was headed. The King studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful.

"Do you understand what I mean?" he continued, his voice almost hesitant. "The whispers... they are growing louder. There are those who believe that Seungcheol is the rightful heir, that he is the only one worthy of the throne. Yet, there are others who look at you and see the same strength in you. You are the daughter of a king—your bloodline is noble, and your actions have proven your capability."

A tightness formed in your chest as his words hung in the air. You had known the politics of the court were always about power, but to hear your own father speak of succession, especially now, made everything feel more real.

"You are considering... me?" you asked quietly, unsure of how to process what he was implying.

The King nodded, his face serious. "I am. It’s not just about blood, but about what you can offer to the kingdom. What you’ve shown today, in the face of threats and uncertainty, it’s not something Seungcheol has done. He is... impulsive. He acts with his emotions leading him, and that could be dangerous. You, on the other hand, have a steady hand. You know when to act and when to hold back."

You swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. The throne was no longer just a symbol of power—it was a dangerous position, one that could bring enemies closer than ever.

"Seungcheol has the Queen’s backing," the King added, his voice dropping into a more guarded tone. "And you’ve seen the lengths to which she will go to secure his place. Her supporters are pushing hard for him to take the throne, and there are whispers in the shadows... that if I am not careful, I may lose everything. Not just the throne, but my life."

Your heart quickened. The Queen’s influence was vast, and her supporters, many of them still deeply embedded in the palace, were a force to be reckoned with.

"Your mother’s death was only the beginning," the King murmured, more to himself than to you. "The Queen will stop at nothing. I have tried to keep her at bay, but her reach is long. If Seungcheol takes the throne under her influence, he could be just another pawn. The court will be hers to control."

The King looked at you then, his eyes softening. "I need you to be ready. You must prepare yourself. You are not just a daughter of this kingdom—you are the future of it. If you want to be the one to wear the crown, you must take it. But know this, my child..." His voice faltered for a moment, something raw seeping through. "There are dangers ahead. Many will try to destroy you before you even get the chance to rule."

You nodded, a chill settling deep in your bones. The path before you was dangerous, fraught with enemies both outside and within.

"I won’t let them take what is rightfully yours," you said, your voice resolute. "I will fight for this kingdom, for you."

The King reached out, taking your hand in his. "I know you will, my child. And I will be here to guide you. But remember—being the heir to this throne is not a privilege. It is a responsibility that weighs heavier than anything else."

The weight of his words crushed down on you, but there was no turning back now. You had already made your decision. Whatever it took, you would do whatever was necessary to protect the kingdom—and yourself—from the shadows that loomed ever closer.

"You must prepare for what is to come," the King added, his voice thick with the gravity of the moment. "You and Wonwoo both. He is your strength, and you are his."

You nodded, a silent promise forming in your heart. With the Queen’s forces lurking in the background, and Seungcheol’s volatile nature, the game of thrones had only just begun. And you would be ready.

The news spread like wildfire across the kingdom, swiftly moving from the royal court to the streets, and every corner of the kingdom buzzed with whispers. The King’s announcement that you, Princess Y/n, were now considered a potential successor to the throne, alongside Crown Prince Seungcheol, sent shockwaves through the kingdom.

For years, it had been a given that Seungcheol, backed by the Queen’s influence, was the clear heir. But now, with your name officially in the running, the political landscape was thrown into chaos. Supporters of the Queen saw it as an affront to her carefully laid plans, while those who had quietly hoped for your rise whispered that this was the beginning of a new era.

In the royal court, tensions flared. Ministers and advisors who had once been steadfast in their loyalty to Seungcheol were now divided. Some saw the King’s decision as a brilliant move to balance power, ensuring that the kingdom’s future would be in capable hands, no matter which path it took. Others feared that it was the beginning of a deadly power struggle, one that would tear the kingdom apart.

Among the nobles, debates raged. Some secretly hoped for Seungcheol’s downfall, seeing your rise as a way to bring back stability. They admired your calm, measured approach and saw it as a stark contrast to Seungcheol’s emotional decisions. Others, particularly those loyal to the Queen, viewed your claim as a direct threat to their own power and wealth, and they would do whatever it took to ensure you were never crowned.

The people, meanwhile, were divided. Some viewed you as the beacon of hope, a princess who had shown courage and strength despite the odds. Your involvement in your mother’s case, your unwavering determination to protect the kingdom, made you a symbol of a new, more just rule. Others, however, still saw Seungcheol as the rightful heir, the one groomed for the throne from birth, and they were hesitant to accept any challenge to his position.

The Queen’s supporters were particularly vocal, spreading rumors and making it known that they would not tolerate such a disruption to the throne. They accused you and Wonwoo of conspiring to undermine Seungcheol, even going so far as to say that your actions were merely a way to avenge your mother’s death, a personal vendetta that should not influence the fate of the kingdom.

Inside the palace walls, the pressure mounted. Seungcheol’s reaction to the announcement was swift and volatile. His pride, already wounded from his earlier confrontation with you, flared up again. He felt betrayed—not only by his father but also by the very court that had once rallied behind him. It was one thing for you to challenge his position indirectly, but now the King’s words had solidified your place as a contender. This wasn’t just about a title anymore—it was a threat to everything Seungcheol believed he was entitled to.

As the whispers in the court grew louder, the inevitable became clearer. The Queen’s treachery could no longer be denied. The evidence—irrefutable and damning—had been laid out for all to see. The black magic tools found in her chambers, the dark rituals she had orchestrated in the shadows of the palace, and the bloodstains of countless plots woven to ensure her son, Seungcheol, would inherit the throne had all been uncovered. The King, with great reluctance, had no choice but to order her banishment from the palace.

The Queen was stripped of her title, her wealth, and her influence. Her supporters in the court were purged, one by one, as the King acted swiftly, making an example of anyone who dared to question his decision. The Queen was sent outside the palace, cast into the cold and unforgiving world, her once grand power reduced to nothing more than whispers in the wind.

Seungcheol’s reaction was expected, though no less shocking. He was enraged. His mother, the one person who had always stood by him, had been torn from his side, and he could not, would not, allow it. He stood before the King, sword in hand, his face twisted in a fury that had never been seen before.

“Father,” Seungcheol spat, his voice a venomous whisper. “You’ve betrayed her. You’ve betrayed me. This is not justice—this is a political game, and you are a fool to think I’ll sit back and allow you to take everything from me.”

The King stood resolute, his gaze unyielding, though the pain was visible in his eyes. “Your mother’s actions were not of justice, Seungcheol. She tried to seize the throne through deceit, through murder. I cannot allow her, or her supporters, to hold any power in this kingdom.”

Seungcheol’s grip on his sword tightened. “Then I will take what is mine by right. I will not let you destroy everything I’ve fought for. You’ve destroyed my mother, and now I will destroy you. I will take the throne by force if I have to.”

The room went silent as the tension in the air thickened. The King, with his final breath of resolve, turned to you. “Princess Y/n... You are now the only one who can take the kingdom forward. Seungcheol’s rage will only burn everything in his path. We have to stop him.”

But even as he spoke, it was clear that the kingdom was on the brink of collapse. Seungcheol’s plan was already in motion. His supporters, loyal to the Queen, were rallying around him, and whispers of a bloody coup began to spread.

As Seungcheol gathered his forces, plotting his revenge, he turned to the one person he believed could take the throne from his father—you. In his eyes, you were now the only option left to secure the kingdom’s future, even if it meant eliminating the King in the process.

“You, Princess Y/n,” Seungcheol said, his voice cold and calculated as he faced you one evening in the royal courtyard, “are the only one who can stop this madness. I will not let my father destroy everything. He has chosen to destroy my mother, and now, I will do what’s necessary to take what is mine.”

He stepped closer, his sword at his side, but there was no threat in his posture—only an eerie calmness. “The King is weak. His time is over. You will either stand with me, or you will stand with him. I will take the throne. The question is whether you’ll be by my side, or if you’ll watch me burn the palace to the ground.”

The choice was placed before you. The kingdom was teetering on the edge of chaos. The King, your father, was desperate to maintain control, but Seungcheol’s anger and thirst for justice were undeniable.

And there, in the silence of the night, as the storm clouds gathered on the horizon, you knew your answer.

To take the throne now meant to fight a war—one that would tear the kingdom apart. To stay loyal to the King was to risk your life in a game of politics, where enemies lurked in every shadow. But to align with Seungcheol, to stand at his side, meant betraying your own blood, your own father.

The path ahead was unclear, but one thing was certain: the battle for the throne was about to begin. Whether you would rise as the future queen or fall victim to the flames of war, only time would tell.

*

The weight of the world pressed against your chest, each breath a struggle as you stood alone in the quiet garden under the pale moonlight. The cold metal of your sword felt like ice in your trembling grip, and your vision blurred with tears that you could no longer hold back. The scent of fresh earth and damp leaves filled the air, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging within you.

You didn’t want this.

Not the crown. Not the power. Not the throne built on blood and suffering. A sob escaped your lips, raw and desperate, as your knees buckled, and you fell to the ground. The sword slipped from your grasp, the metallic clang echoing in the darkness, but you didn’t care. Your hands covered your face, and your shoulders shook with silent cries.

"I don't want this... I don't want any of this..." The words spilled from you, muffled by your own palms.

You felt a presence before you saw him. Wonwoo’s warm, calloused hands reached for you, gently pulling your hands away from your tear-stained face. His touch was steady, but his gaze betrayed a deep concern, an emotion you hadn’t seen before in his sharp, calculating eyes.

“Y/n…” His voice was a whisper, soft yet pained. He crouched before you, his dark eyes searching yours, and the sight of your tears seemed to shatter something within him.

“I never wanted this... I just wanted... I just wanted to protect them... to protect you...” Your voice broke, and you felt your chest tighten again. “But... all I see is blood... blood on my hands, blood on my family...”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched. For so long, he had been the one with a plan, the one who held his resolve like an unbreakable shield. But seeing you like this—vulnerable, broken—every calculated thought he had ever harbored, every whispered promise of revenge, crumbled. His ambitions, his hatred, even his own thirst for justice seemed insignificant now.

“I never wanted to lie to you,” he whispered, his fingers gently trailing along your cheek, then falling away. “But everything I’ve done, everything I planned… it started long before I met you.”

A cold sense of dread washed over you. The weight of his words pressed down, making your breath hitch. “What are you saying?”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his gaze shifting to the moonlit garden before he spoke again. “I wasn’t just a simple commander in Silla’s Hwarang. I was born as Jeon Wonwoo, the crown prince of the fallen Jeon Kingdom—overthrown and destroyed by Silla’s forces.”

Your blood ran cold. “The Jeon Kingdom… the one that was… massacred…”

He nodded. “My family was killed. I was only a child, taken in by my uncle who survived the invasion. He raised me in the shadows, trained me for one purpose—to take revenge on Silla’s royal family. To bring justice for my people, my family… for everything we lost.”

“Revenge…” you echoed, the word like ash on your tongue.

Wonwoo’s gaze fell, guilt clouding his sharp eyes. “I infiltrated Silla, rose through the ranks, and became a commander. I built connections, watched the court, and gathered allies. And then… I met you.”

You stepped back, your voice wavering. “So… you married me for your plan? To get closer to the throne? To manipulate me?”

“Initially, yes.” His voice was firm but laced with regret. “That was the plan. To use our marriage, to use your status, to bring down the queen and weaken the royal family. But…”

He took a step toward you, his hands trembling slightly. “But everything changed. You changed everything, Y/n. The moment I saw you fighting for your own place, for your own justice… I saw something beyond vengeance. I saw someone I didn’t want to hurt.”

Your heart raced painfully in your chest. “And now? Are you still trying to use me? Are you going to kill the king? My brother?”

Wonwoo’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “No. Not anymore. I won’t hurt you or your family. Not if you don’t want it.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, tears stinging your eyes. “Not if I don’t want it? Wonwoo, everything is already falling apart! The queen is exiled, Seungcheol is desperate, the kingdom is on the brink of chaos—and I’m a pawn in your game!”

His expression twisted with pain. “You’re not a pawn. Not to me. Not anymore.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and his thumbs gently wiped them away. “But everything is ruined, Wonwoo. I’ve hurt people. I’ve done things I never wanted to. And it was all for a lie…”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “Not for me. Not anymore.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” his hand gently resting on your cheek, wiping away the fresh tears. “We can stop. We can let it go.”

You stared at him, your breath hitching. “Wonwoo… after everything… you would stop?”

His eyes darkened with a thousand emotions, but he nodded, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Yes. If it means you won’t cry again, then I’ll stop. I will walk away from everything.”

A sob escaped your lips again, but this time it was softer, almost a breath of relief. You leaned into his touch, letting his warmth ground you, letting his calm voice silence the chaos in your mind.

“But… Seungcheol… the King… the court… they will never stop. They will turn on us… they will—”

“Then we will face them together.” Wonwoo’s voice was resolute now, a fire in his eyes. “Not for revenge, not for power… but for you. For us.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, your tears soaking into his robes. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, a quiet promise in his embrace. The sword lay forgotten on the cold ground beside you, the moonlight reflecting off its blade—a faint glimmer in the darkness.

And for the first time, in the midst of this chaos, you felt a flicker of hope.

*

The king had fallen under his own son's sword in the dead of night. By dawn, the news spread like wildfire, leaving the kingdom in turmoil. Whispers filled every corner, from the bustling markets to the quiet courtyards. The ministry acted swiftly, stripping Seungcheol of his title as crown prince, a desperate attempt to maintain order. But instead of breaking his resolve, it only fueled his rage. Seungcheol’s ambition turned merciless, his gaze now fixed on one target—you. The only obstacle between him and the throne.

The grand hall was a storm of frantic murmurs, ministers and generals speaking over each other, panic evident in their faces. But your voice cut through the chaos with the clarity of a blade.

"Evacuate the people outside the capital at first light," you commanded, your voice unwavering. "Prioritize children, women, and teachers. All military units must be prepared for combat. I will face Seungcheol myself."

Silence followed your words, the ministers exchanging uneasy glances, but none dared to challenge you. Your presence, a commanding force, anchored them in the midst of chaos.

"I’m going with you." Wonwoo’s voice rang out, steady but tinged with a desperate protectiveness. As Commander Jeon, his duty was clear, but as your husband—an even stronger bond pulled him toward you.

But you shook your head, your expression resolute. "No, Commander Jeon. Your responsibility is to ensure the safety of our people. They are your shield, and you are theirs. Trust me to do what I must."

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened, his knuckles pale as they gripped the hilt of his sword. "Y/n—"

"Don’t make this harder than it already is," you whispered, forcing a faint smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "You taught me to lead with my head, not just my heart. So that’s exactly what I’m doing."

Wonwoo’s gaze softened, a storm of emotions swirling within him—fear, anger, and something far too close to grief. But he knew better than to argue with you now. Not when every second mattered.

"I will protect them," he promised, his voice low but fierce. "But promise me… you won’t take unnecessary risks."

"I promise I will do what I must. For this kingdom. For our people."

As the grand hall emptied, the heavy doors groaned shut, muffling the frantic echoes of preparation beyond them. But in the stillness that followed, you remained—standing beneath the vast banners of the royal crest, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across your resolute face.

A familiar warmth wrapped around your wrist, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned to see Wonwoo, his dark eyes fierce yet softened, a contradiction of fear and longing.

"You don’t have to do this alone," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but each word weighed with emotion. "Please… let me stand by your side."

"You already are," you whispered, your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "Wonwoo, if something happens to me—"

"Don’t." His voice broke slightly, his grip tightening on your wrist. "Don’t talk like that."

"You taught me to face reality," you countered gently. "And the reality is, I might not come back from this. Seungcheol is driven, and I cannot guarantee—"

"I don't care what he is," Wonwoo interrupted, his other hand coming up to rest over yours against his cheek. "Listen to me. I never told you this… but I never planned to love you. I never planned for you to become the one person I cannot lose."

Your breath caught, his confession hitting you like a tidal wave. You had known him as a strategist, a man of unwavering resolve—a man who always seemed to know what he wanted. But in this moment, he was simply Wonwoo—the man who held your heart.

"Then don’t lose me," you whispered, leaning forward until your foreheads touched. "Stay alive. Protect our people. That’s your promise."

"And you?" His voice trembled, his hands now cradling your face. "What do you promise me?"

"I promise… I will fight with everything I have. And if I must fall—" you hesitated, your voice thick with emotion, "—I will fall knowing I loved you."

Wonwoo’s lips captured yours, desperate and fierce, a kiss that spoke of everything he couldn’t say. A promise. A plea. A goodbye he refused to give.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads remained touching, your breaths mingling in the tense silence. His eyes, dark and intense, held yours.

"I will come back to you," you whispered, the tears you tried to hold back finally slipping free. "I swear it."

"And I will be waiting," he whispered back, his thumb brushing away your tears. "No matter how long it takes."

As you pulled away, the cold air rushed between you, but Wonwoo’s warmth lingered—an invisible shield around your heart.

You turned, walking toward the door, the weight of war pressing upon your shoulders. But with each step, you held onto his promise, like a faint light guiding you through the darkness.

Wonwoo led the people to the hidden village where the remaining Jeons lived. His uncle listened intently as he explained the chaos that had erupted in the capital—the king’s fall, Seungcheol’s betrayal, and the abrupt turn of their once carefully planned revenge. The weight of bloodshed hung in the air, a bitter reminder of how far vengeance could twist one's soul.

“It’s over,” Wonwoo whispered, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Enough of this revenge. We’ve lost too much.”

His uncle placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a silent understanding passing between them.

Days turned to a week, and the village grew restless. News from the capital was scarce, tension simmering beneath the surface. The people prayed for peace, for the safety of their loved ones. But Wonwoo’s heart remained in turmoil. He found himself pacing at the village's edge, eyes fixed on the distant forest path, hoping for any sign of you.

Then, a rider arrived from the capital, his horse covered in dust, a royal emblem on his chest. Breathless and weary, he delivered the news.

"The Choi clan has fallen. The queen’s allies have been defeated. Seungcheol has been overthrown."

A collective gasp swept through the crowd, joy and relief spreading like wildfire. Mothers hugged their children, elders whispered thanks to the heavens, and even the warriors smiled with pride.

But Wonwoo remained still, his heart pounding against his ribs. “And what of the princess?” His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

The messenger smiled, “The capital is now secure, and the coronation of the new queen will be held in a month.”

Wonwoo’s vision blurred for a moment, the tension flooding out of him in a rush.

“She’s safe! My sister is safe!” Chan’s voice pierced the air, and he jumped up, hugging anyone nearby.

But Wonwoo’s relief was silent. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. A faint, shaky smile crossed his lips. You were safe.

“Commander!” his uncle’s voice snapped him back.

Wonwoo’s expression hardened with determination. “Prepare the people. Those who wish to return to the capital can do so. Our warriors will guide them for protection.”

“Yes, Commander!”

But even as his people moved in a flurry of preparation, Wonwoo was already mounting his horse. His grip on the reins was tight, his gaze locked on the forest path.

“I’m going back to her.” He spurred his horse, the powerful beast surging forward, hooves thundering against the ground. Trees blurred past him, the cold wind biting at his face, but none of it mattered.

His thoughts were filled with you—your fierce resolve, your gentle smile, your warmth.

“I’m coming to you.”

*

The gentle hum of the projector filled the spacious lecture hall, casting a soft, warm glow over the screen at the front. Jeon Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, his steady gaze meeting the curious faces of his students.

"And that's where our story ends," he concluded, a faint smile crossing his lips. "The tale of the Queen of Wonhwa and the turbulent rise of the Jeon family."

A hand shot up among the students. "Professor Jeon, how was their life after that? Did the queen live happily ever after with Commander Jeon?"

Wonwoo's smile deepened, but there was a subtle wistfulness in his eyes. "History is often silent on personal happiness. There isn't much evidence detailing their private lives. However, what we do know is that the Queen's reign marked a significant shift. Women's education began to establish itself as a formal part of the kingdom’s policies, and her son—later known as one of the most strategic kings in military history—led an era of unparalleled strength and prosperity."

The students whispered among themselves, a mixture of awe and curiosity in their expressions.

"So, was Commander Jeon the father of that legendary king?" another student dared to ask, leaning forward.

Wonwoo chuckled, "Historical records are unclear, but there are many who believe so. After all, the Queen’s most trusted advisor and protector was none other than Commander Jeon."

"Professor, do you think they loved each other?"

Wonwoo paused, his gaze drifting momentarily to the window where a gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside. His voice softened. "Love can be found in many forms—through trust, sacrifice, and shared ideals. Perhaps that is the greatest mystery of their tale."

The bell rang, and the students began packing their things, chattering about the lecture as they filed out. Wonwoo stood by his desk, collecting his notes, his fingers lingering on the worn pages of his lecture book.

As the last student left, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"I think you make it sound more dramatic each semester."

Wonwoo looked up to see you leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile on your lips.

"Perhaps," he admitted, his expression softening. "But you have to admit, it keeps them interested."

"Did you tell them about how the Queen and Commander Jeon would sneak out of the palace to share mooncakes under the stars?" you teased, stepping closer.

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. "That's not historically verified."

"Neither is their undying love, but you mentioned that."

"Touché." He leaned back against his desk, his smile lingering as his eyes met yours. "Shall we get some dinner?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Dinner? Or mooncakes under the stars?"

"Why not both?"

You laughed, taking his outstretched hand. Even after centuries, the story of the Queen of Wonhwa and Commander Jeon lived on—retold in history books and whispered between two souls who somehow always found their way back to each other.

Wonwoo closed his leather-bound lecture book, tucking it under his arm as he walked beside you. The hallway buzzed with students rushing to their next classes, but his focus was entirely on you.

"I'm just saying, your administrative policies seem overly strict," Wonwoo remarked, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Strict?" You turned to face him, your expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Wonwoo, I’m trying to maintain academic integrity, not run a summer camp."

"And I'm saying that micromanaging professors' attendance reports isn't maintaining integrity. It’s just paperwork chaos," he shot back, his tone teasing but his words pointed.

"That's because some professors treat their classes like optional gatherings. I’m ensuring consistency," you defended, crossing your arms.

"Or you’re turning the faculty into a military academy," he quipped.

You stopped walking, your gaze challenging. "You sound like you're worried you’ll be the first to break the rules."

Wonwoo chuckled, stepping closer. "I'm the model professor. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s the others who’ll run for the hills the moment they hear about your new policies."

A faint smile tugged at your lips, but you tried to keep your tone stern. "Well, if they do, at least we’ll know who’s not serious about their roles."

"You really do enjoy being the strict dean, don’t you?" Wonwoo leaned slightly, his teasing gaze unwavering.

"I prefer 'responsible,'" you corrected, turning back to continue walking.

"Of course, Madam Dean," Wonwoo replied with a playful salute, easily matching your pace.

"Don't you 'Madam Dean' me," you muttered, but you couldn’t hide the smile forming.

"Won't I be hearing that a lot when you take over the dean’s office officially?" Wonwoo teased, his voice light but proud.

"Yes, you will. And you better address me properly in meetings," you retorted, feigning seriousness.

"Fine. But don’t think I won’t bring up your paperwork obsession in the next faculty gathering," he warned, earning a light glare from you.

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," he challenged, the mischievous glint in his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

"Maybe I will."

"Good. I love a challenge."

And as your bickering continued, anyone passing by could see it—two professors locked in a playful, spirited exchange, each word carrying a mix of familiarity, trust, and something far deeper.

The end.

[starlightxsvt]

When A Villainess Loves | c.sc

synopsis ➳ four years of obsessing over him. so what if he is taken. you don't mind being the villainess if it means you get to have him in the end. genre ➳ chaebol au, thriller, dark romance. pairing ➳ heir!seungcheol x villainess!f.reader wc ➳ 19.4k warnings ➳ manipulation, blackmail, cheating, guns, blood, destruction of evidence, murder, death of minor characters, cursing, accident, scarring, adoption, heavy make out, fingering, marking, every character is corrupt more or less basically, also for plot purposes reader's last name is kim.

pick your poison babe

i'm poison either way

When you met Choi Seungcheol for the very first time, you were 13 years old. 

One sunny afternoon, while making your way to your grandpa’s study with your homework clutched to your chest, you were graced by the sight of him. He was stepping out of the room after meeting with your grandpa when the sound of your footsteps prompted him to stop and regard you with curiosity, head tilted to a side. He was only 18 back then, full of dreams and passion as he prepared to move abroad to finish his degree before returning home to inherit his father’s company. 

“Hey,” he had said, unsurely. With a squeak, you ran away and hid in a nearby room, too shy to talk with a stranger. You remember him standing there for a moment, confused by your behaviour before slowly walking away with a shake of his head.

The second time you saw Seungcheol, you were 18 years old, five years after your first meeting. He had come back after finishing his degree and was preparing to take over his father's billion-dollar company. In celebration, Mr Choi threw a party inviting all his family and friends and since your grandfather was one of his oldest business partners, it was natural for you to be invited with him.

It was that fateful winter evening when you fell in love with Seungcheol for the very first time.

In all 18 years of your existence, dating never interested you. You preferred to keep to yourself, read and spend time with your grandpa. You had realized early on that observing and judging people was much more interesting than talking to them. Especially because no one could ever resist asking you about the big scar on your left cheek. It was irritating; the prodding gaze of strangers who stared at your scar with wonder, treating you like a science experiment. So it wasn’t surprising for you to grow up without having many friends. You didn’t need them anyway, you had your grandpa.

Life was mostly uneventful and you did not mind having it that way. But then, at 18, when you caught a glimpse of Seungcheol and the man he had become, you realized, your life would never be the same. The sight of him had thrown your heart into a frenzy, one you could never recover from.

Gone was the lean young boy with bright eyes and messy hair. In his place was a calm but serious man who knew how to command a room with just his presence. Everything about him; the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he brushed his hand through his slick black hair, the way his suit hugged his muscular frame made your stomach dip and heart throb. 

That evening, your sole focus was him, following him around the party with your eager eyes but too shy to go and talk to him. You remember uttering one word to him when he was talking to your grandfather and his eyes landed on you.

“Congratulations.” You had said, giving him your best smile while your stomach was tied up in knots.

He gave you a small smile and a nod before looking away but that little interaction was enough for you to fall head first for him and fill your long nights with dreams.

“He has grown up to be a fine man, no? Choi Corporation is in very good hands.” Your grandpa had commented.

You had to agree. 

Seungcheol was a fine man, the finest you had ever seen. So fine that the thoughts of him kept you awake at night, the memory of his smile filled your stomach with butterflies and made you want to write poetry about.

You had decided right then and there that you would make friends with him, grow close to him. It would have been easy to do since his father and your grandpa were already close.

Your plan began with you scouring the net, trying to find every possible information about him and the things that you could not find, you would discreetly ask your grandpa. You were going to set your plan in motion by visiting the golf ring where Seungcheol regularly golfed on weekends. On a Friday night in early February, as you were laying your golf outfit out for the next day with childish excitement, your grandpa came into your room to give you the worst news of your life.

Seungcheol was getting engaged that Sunday. 

To the only daughter of Lee Media, the country's biggest media company. The holy union was agreed upon by the elders of the family since it was beneficial for both parties and most importantly, the heirs had no objection. They grew up in each other's presence anyway.

Even worse, after the engagement, Seungcheol was moving to Hong Kong to better oversee the company business and when he was to return, the marriage would take place. 

That news would have made any normal person give up. It would have brought them back to their senses and forced them to focus on their own life.

You, however, did not.

Overnight, you were a changed woman. 

You attended his engagement party with a smile on your face and watched as he put the ring on that disgustingly beautiful woman’s finger. That day too you spoke to him briefly, congratulating him on his engagement and wishing him luck for his work abroad. With his fiancee, Sumin Lee, you talked plenty; initiating the conversation by introducing yourself and carrying it on by complimenting her dress and her ring. You did not miss the way her gaze would repeatedly fall on your scar, judgment and questions flashing in her eyes. Something was unsettling about that woman, something in the look of her eyes that made you want to scream and warn Seungcheol to stay away. 

You could not do that, of course.

Instead, you said goodbye to the man you loved and let him leave. 

Your game began after that. 

You played the first move by getting his number from your grandpa and texting him once he had left. 

Hi, it's ____. Hope you have reached safely. 

That was the first text you had sent him. 

When he replied, you struck up a conversation, asking for recommendations for golf sticks since you wanted to get into golfing. The rest was surprisingly easy. You bonded with him over golf even though in reality you could not give two shits about that boring sport. The conversations flowed naturally and you always made sure it keep things casual, asking for recommendations and advice on anything and everything as if he were a brother to you.

And like that, four years has gone by. 

You started living a life completely different from the one you had envisioned for yourself. 

Once upon a time, you wanted to be a librarian. You had no interest in overtaking your grandpa’s business and he had accepted that. In the last few years, however, your previous notion changed. You realized that you needed to take over the company and actually get on the field to continue playing the game you were enjoying. Your grandpa was dubious at first but for the last two years, you have been in the position of the vice president of Kim Associations and you must admit, you have been performing beyond what you thought you were capable of. Your grandpa, who has been extremely pleased with your work, resigned a little while ago and assured you of your capabilities to take over.

And finally, today is the day.

Your inauguration ceremony which will officially mark the beginning of your journey as the president of Kim Associations. 

“Are you ready, madam? The guests are all here.” Your assistant’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You blink, refocusing your attention on your reflection in the mirror. Combing your fingers through the strands of your hair that have been perfectly styled, you speak, “I’ll be out in a second, Yuna.”

“Yes, madam.” The door shuts quietly behind her.

Sucking in a deep breath, you stand up, carefully scanning your outfit in the mirror one last time. Pleased with how the white blazer and pants look on you, you strut out of the dressing room and into the hallway leading to the grand room where the guests await.

As soon as you can get over with the boring ceremony, you can move on to the bigger tasks. Seungcheol is supposed to return home this month which means your time is running out. As soon as he is here, the preparations for marriage will start and you cannot let that happen. You must act fast.

With the ending of your acceptance speech, you step down from the podium, slightly woozy because of the continuous camera flashes. Yuna holds out a bottle of water for you to take a quick sip. As you screw the lid closed, your eyes wander over the room before stopping.

A small gasp parts your lips.

On the other side of the hall, you see Seungcheol talking to your grandpa. 

As if sensing your stare he turns his head and his gaze matches yours. A beautiful smile sits on his lips, his eyes shining as he starts heading towards you with a large bouquet of flowers resting on his arm.

Time slows down, and everything around you fades into background noise. Breathlessly, you watch him, soaking in every minuscule detail and committing them to your memory. And lord, is he a vision. Dressed in a three piece grey suit, his freshly styled hair and his blinding smile, you briefly wonder if he is a fragment of your imagination.

You blink a couple of times to snap yourself back to reality before schooling your expression as he stands in front of you. 

“Congratulations, President Kim.” He grins, cheeky and proud as he offers you the comically large bouquet.

A huge smile kisses your lips as you accept the flowers. “Seungcheol, I am very pleasantly surprised.”

“That was the intention.” He laughs and it is then that you notice a figure standing right behind him. 

It is Sumin, of course, standing next to him with a plastic smile as she congratulates you.

Your mood sours but you don’t let it show.

“You were supposed to return later this month, no?” You peer inquisitively at your love.

“What can I say, business finished early.” He shrugs.

“Which is good because we have a wedding to plan, no honey?” Sumin slings her arms through his as she throws a flirty smile at him. His hand rests on hers and your blood boils.

“Of course.” Your smile is so fake your cheeks hurt. “It was lovely to see you, Seungcheol. I have some investors waiting over there for me. We will catch up later, okay?”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

You push past Sumin, immediately dropping the fake smile as your fingers grip the stem of the flowers in a chokehold.

-

One week passes by and you fail to make time to catch up with Seungcheol— one-on-one at least. As the new president, piles of work awaited you every day at the office that you had to get through. With the very little free time you had after work, you would text Seungcheol only to get a reply that he was busy preparing for the wedding or visiting his in-laws.

Tonight you were invited to dinner by Seungcheol’s father as he held a small dinner for his close friends and family. You went with the hopes of seeing Seungcheol which were quickly crushed after your arrival. Turns out he and Sumin were out of town for whatever reason and would be running late. The sight of Sumin’s family making themselves comfortable and their boisterous attitude prompted you to leave as soon as dinner was over.

Another bad day has come to an end.

You lie in your bed, wide awake even though it is well past midnight. The work that waits for you in the day ahead along with another myriad of meetings overwhelms you. Your grandpa has not been feeling well so you need to visit him. Plus, there is this tiny issue of Seungcheol getting married to Sumin. You are not sure how you should approach this issue. Creating a scandal is always a good idea but that would end up harming the man you love. Of course, there is always another option…

One thought leads to another which leads you to sleep. At the crack of dawn, you are jolted out of your sleep by what you first think is your alarm. Then you fathom it is your phone ringing.

The caller is the caretaker who lives with your grandpa.

With your heart suddenly beating like you just ran a marathon, you pick up the phone.

“Miss Kim, your grandfather had a stroke. We are on the way to the hospital.”

The next few hours are a blur. 

You have long lost your sense of time. After what feels like ages since you reached the hospital, you find yourself, along with some relatives, sitting in a sterile waiting room, the walls bleak and grey. 

The clock on the wall reads ten in the morning. No sunlight peeks through, however, because there are no windows where you sit.

“You should have something to eat,” your secretary quietly suggests standing next to you. Her words reach your ears but you fail to register them, staring blankly at the floor.

Life without your grandpa sounds weird. He is the only person on this planet you love and trust unconditionally, the only person who understands and loves you the same way you love him.

He cannot just die, can he?

A while later, you don’t know how long, the doctor comes to give a briefing about the patient's health. He says a lot of words which can be summarized as this: your grandfather had a stroke that caused him to fall into a sleep-like state. When he will wake up from this coma is unknown, it could be days, it could be months. For now, his condition is stable and you can only pray it stays the same.

And just like that, there is a sudden shift in your life as you fall into a new routine. Working from dawn to dusk and then spending the evenings next to your comatose grandpa, holding his hand and hoping he would wake up. People come to visit, including the Chois. On the first day that Seungcheol visited, you shed a tear in his embrace before returning to your hollow, expressionless self. Soon, days blend into weeks which transform into a month. 

You start becoming more accepting of your reality. A part of you wonders if this is how your grandpa is preparing you to live a life without him. He has always been in your life as a protective shadow since he adopted you at the age of ten. A car crash took your parents away from you when you were very young, so you never missed them. Your memories of your early childhood are next to non existent but after being adopted, every day was something worth remembering. A kind stranger welcomed you with open arms and legally became your grandfather. He was so much more than just a grandfather, though. He was akin to your parents, a best friend, a guardian.

How does one cope with losing such a precious person?

Life sure will not be fun without him judging from the rumours that you hear going around your company. The way the board of directors and shareholders keep hinting that you may be an unfit candidate to rule over the company in the absence of an experienced man like your grandpa.

Why? Because you are young and unmarried.

How sensible that sounds.

While you may not be getting married any time soon, Seungcheol definitely is. His wedding with Sumin is set in exactly three months which does not leave you with much time on your hands. Your grandpa’s collapse was a momentary distraction but at the same time, it was a learning experience. People started showing their true colours and it helped you come to a decision. 

You will play the long game and you will hit two birds with one stone.

_

The villa where Sumin’s party is taking place is situated a little outside the city. 

She has recently launched her own clothing line with the money given by her in-laws as a pre-wedding gift but that part is a secret to the public.

It is almost dinner time when you arrive and the party is in full swing with the music blasting and people covering almost every place of the villa. The place is mainly littered with influencers and models and you recognize a few familiar faces who approach you first to say hi. 

You see Sumin skirting around, talking to people animatedly, posing for pictures and ordering the staff around. She has not noticed you come in but you do not mind. You will be seeing her personally very soon.

Dinner finishes and you start saying your goodbyes, using a headache as your excuse. After ensuring everything is set and your plan is successfully in motion you head for the abandoned factory located about a couple hundred meters behind the villa. The place is quiet and poorly lit but best of all, it is a place without any CCTV cameras. People never bother to come here, one because it is an abandoned, dusty factory and two, it ends in a dead end which is also a junkyard pile.

The watch on your wrist reads five minutes to ten thirty which means Sumin will be here anytime soon.

You wait for her under the only lit lamppost in the area, watching the bugs fly around the light before fixing your wandering gaze on the autumn night sky, the faded echoes of the music from the party your background noise. The sky is glittering with stars tonight, you observe.

“Hello?” 

The sudden female voice makes you turn around.

Sumin is standing there with a confused look which quickly morphs into caution when she sees you. “So it was you? You asked me to come here?” She questions with a hint of annoyance as she holds up the note you left for her at the dinner table.

Come to the junkyard at ten thirty. If you tell anyone about this it will be very bad for you.

Your reply is a sweet smile which you know will aggravate her.

“Seriously, I don’t have time for your games. I have a party to get back to.” She huffs, crumpling your note and throwing it down to the ground.

“Of course you do,” you nod, stepping closer to her. She waits for you to elaborate but you deny her the pleasure, instead observing her with a mysterious smile. Her petite, thin frame is drowning in an unbuttoned pink fur jacket. Underneath that, she is dressed in a glittery pastel pink crop top and a matching mini skirt with knee-high boots. As if that wasn’t enough glitter, her eyeshadow and her brown hair are equally shining in glitter.

Life must be so fun for her.

“Hello? Care to explain why you brought me out here?” Sumin snaps two fingers before crossing her hands over her chest, and tapping the tip of her heel on the concrete.

You release a deep sigh before looking her straight in the eye. “Break up with Seungcheol.”

She blinks three times as she processes your words before letting out the biggest scoff of amusement. “Come again?”

“You heard me. Break up with him while I’m asking nicely.”

Sumin appears only more flabbergasted which she expresses with a high-pitched laughter bubbling up from her throat. “The audacity you have! Coming to my party and then calling me here with a threatening note only to tell me to break up with my fiance? Holy shit, you really are crazy!”

You silently watch her with your arms crossed, unamused. 

Her expression only grows brighter, lighting up with elation as if she just solved the world’s biggest mystery. “I wasn’t wrong! From the day I first saw you at my engagement party, I knew something was up with you. Your eyes were always following Seungcheol! You are delusional, thinking you can take him from me. Even if I break up with him, do you think he would take you as his wife? He treats you like a sister— no no, I’m being too kind. He tolerates you! You are a pesky little ant that keeps bothering him but he is kind enough not to crush you! You are so fucking unbelievable, ___.”

You warned her, she did not listen. Time to bring out the big guns. 

Reaching into your handbag, you pull out a small rectangular envelope before tossing it to the ground in front of her.

“What is it?” Sumin asks, raising an annoyed brow. You remain mute as you wait for her to pick it up. With a huff, she does so as she pries it open and pulls out the photos stacked inside. After flipping through only two of them, the colour drains from her face as she screams and drops them all from her hands.

“You! You bitch! Where did you get them from?” Sumin’s eyes are as wide as saucers accompanied by a look of sheer panic on her face that brings you immense joy.

“Oh sweet Sumin,” You smirk. “You should be careful when having an affair behind your fiancee’s back. You are a chaebol, after all. People are always watching.” 

“You psychopath!” She hisses, marching towards you. In a fit of wild rage, she grabs you by the collar and screams. “You think you can get away with blackmailing me! I am the future wife of the Choi Corporation’s president. Everyone will believe me. I can just claim those are fake and you are doing this out of jealousy!”

You cannot stifle a chuckle. Calmly, you grab her hands and hold them tight as you challenge, “Sumin, you are awfully noisy for a cheater. You know I can just send these to the press, right? No matter what your truth is, they are going to eat it up. Your reputation will forever be ruined along with Seungcheol’s. Do you think the Chois would let that happen? They would cut you off immediately.”

“You!” Sumin’s frustrated cry pierces the night silence. “You fucking scarred bitch! I will fucking kill you! Do you think my father would just let you go?”

You smirk. Gripping her hands tightly, you pry them off your collars before shoving her away. “You don’t get to touch me, you scheming cunt.”

Sumin stumbles back a few strides when you start taking slow steps towards her, your hands resting behind your back almost as if you were out on an afternoon stroll. A new look of horror sets on her face when you come closer and whisper in her ear, “I know that your daddy is broke. He has barely been keeping his company together for the last three years. The only reason you are marrying Seungcheol is so you can get half of his money and save yourself.”

A shaky breath comes out of her lips as Sumin steps back from you, her figure trembling. You smile, taking another step closer to her. “I also know the things your daddy did to keep this secret from getting out. But imagine what the Chois would do when they discover that your family— a bunch of thugs, was planning to use them from the very beginning. Partnership? Ha— That was never your intention. You just wanted to take advantage of Seungcheol and his company.”

Sumin keeps looking at you, eyes wide and full of disbelief, panting heavily. Her eyes are the personification of loathing and it creates a sense of achievement so big within you, you feel like bursting.

You have seen enough of her drama. 

Stepping even closer to her, you sneer. “Break up with Seungcheol before I ruin you and your entire family to the ground.”

“Never!” She yells, taking you by surprise and shoving you down onto the ground. The hard concrete scrapes your palms which you use to brace yourself, leaving behind a sharp sting.

“I am not going to break up with him! Choi Seungcheol is mine, you beast! My father may be bankrupt now but you don’t know what we are still capable of. We have gotten rid of insects like you many times before. It won’t be hard to shut your mouth forever, you bitch!” She hisses, looking down at you.

You roll your eyes, dusting off the dirt from your palms.

“If I were afraid of dying I never would have joined this game, Sumin.”

She sputters, gritting her teeth, eyes shining with tears of frustration, her hands forming fists. She glares at you for a long moment and you can see the gears shifting in her head through her expression as she gradually composes herself before looking down at the ground, shaking her head and laughing. “That is alright. I will start with your grandfather, then.”

The blood in your veins runs ice cold, making you suddenly grow stiff.

She continues to laugh. “That old man is already on life support. It won’t be abnormal if he dies suddenly, will it? Right now, in fact?’’ She grins, pulling out her mobile and teasingly shaking it in her hand. “What do you say? Should I make a call? Show you how easy it is for me?’’

You breathe in and out sharply, your hands forming fists at your sides. Before you can open your mouth, she continues.

“Oh right! I forgot something important. Before I kill him, you should know a secret, ___.”

You remain rooted to your spot, glaring at her. She grins. “Your grandfather, Kim Han Oh? He is your real grandfather, not a kind old man who happened to see you one day and adopted you.”

What?

A scoff of disbelief falls from your lips. “The fear of being exposed has made you crazy, no? You’re saying anything now.” You sigh, standing up and shaking off the dust from your clothes, almost feeling pity for the girl. There is no way she could be serious right now.

Sumin’s lips break into a larger grin as she slowly moves closer to you, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Oh, poor you! You know nothing, sweetheart. Kim Han Oh is your real grandfather. You are connected by blood. But that is not even the best part.” She stops to let out a giggle. “The best part is, you ended up in that orphanage because of him.”

In the eerie stillness of the night, the only sound is the sharp intake of your breath as your body grows stiff. “You are lying.” Your breath comes out uneven.

You wish your words came out stronger.

“Oh, ___. I wish I were. Your father had you out of wedlock. Your mother was a waitress at a bar when she met your father. When you were 3 years old, he finally decided to confess to your grandfather about his secret family, hoping he would accept you and your mom. He never did. He kicked you three out of his house and while returning from his place, the accident occurred.” Sumin pauses, inspecting your behaviour carefully. She tilts her chin up, pointing to your face, “That scar marring your face? You got it because of him, sweetheart.”

By now, your entire world has collapsed as your body starts shutting down, making your vision blurry as you lose your footing. You choke on your breath, trying to form words of disagreement which comes out as a pathetic whimper. Your hands search pointlessly for something to hold onto and with nothing around you, you fall back down on the ground, panting harshly.

The dim ray of the street light falling over you gets blocked by Sumin as she towers over you with a fiendish smile of victory. Sitting in front of you, she places one knee on the ground and rests her hand on the other. 

“It hurts, right? It will hurt more when I tell you that the Choi family is aware of this as well.”

Your eyes fly to her face, wide with alarm and despair.

“That’s right, they know what a filthy, low-born you are. Discarded by your grandfather and then taken back out of pity.” Her words are pure venom, each one hurting more than the last. “You prance around thinking you are the queen of the world, chosen among others because you have something special but in reality, you are a disgusting mutt who does not know her place.”

You cough which morphs into a sob as tears start to blur your vision. 

This is not how this was supposed to go. 

“How dare you,” Sumin breathes, reaching out her claws to tuck a piece of stray hair behind your ear, “even think of touching Seungcheol, hm? He is mine. Even if I fuck ten guys behind his back, he would choose me any day over someone like you.”

“Shut up!” You cry out.

Sumin chuckles. “You should not have poked your filthy nose in my business, ____. I have ruined you with just my words, now watch as I ruin Seungcheol right in front of you.”

“No!” You hiss, clutching her shoulders. She pries your hands off. “Oh yes. I will marry him and I will destroy him and everything he holds dear. Why? Because I can. Because this is my payback for thinking you can mess with me!”

Pushing you away, she stands up, giving you one last look of victory before marching away, the heels of her boots leaving behind echoes of mockery as you pant harshly.

At the last moment, you call out. “Sumin?’’

She turns around. “Ugh, what now—”

A gun goes off. 

If there was no silencer, the haunting echo would ripple through the night air. In its absence, there is a small click followed by an eerie stillness as Sumin drops to the ground, falling on her side with a clean bullet hole sitting on her forehead. 

Lowering the gun in your hand, you wipe your tears and stand up. Your handbag lies on the ground haphazardly and you pick it up, putting the gun inside like it was when you came here.

With a heavy sigh, you walk towards where her body lies and watch her remain still, looking at you with the blankest pair of eyes as rivulets of blood flow down her temple.

Surprisingly, you do not feel any remorse. For one second, before pulling the trigger, you hesitated, thinking this decision would come back to haunt you. Now, in the beautiful silence of the night, you do not. Somewhere deep down, you knew this was inevitable, hence you brought the gun.

“You should not have underestimated me if you knew where I came from. Filthy people like me will do filthy things for the people we love. We are villains.” You sigh. “Rest in peace, Sumin.” 

You spare one last look at her before walking away from the scene, picking up the photos and the note she dropped earlier on the ground along your way.

_

Morning comes faster than anticipated. 

As soon as you come downstairs after waking up, you find your secretary waiting for you with her tablet in her hands, standing at her usual spot even though it is the weekend. The look, however, on her face immediately tells you that the news of Sumin’s death has spread. Schooling your expression, you cross the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen. “Morning, Yuna. Is today not a Saturday?”

“Yes, madam. But…” She hesitates. “Did you hear the news?’’

“What news?” You pick up a glass of orange juice and sip on it. 

“Sumin was murdered. Kim Sumin.”

You widen your eyes, setting down the glass with a loud clank. “What?’’

“Yes,” Yuna fidgets as she steps closer to you, eyes shining with mischief as if she is about to share a big secret. “Last night. Apparently, she was shot in the head. The Lees and Chois have given out special orders. No news outlet knows the details of her murder. It is being kept under wraps.”

“I see. How unfortunate,” You stare at the ground before going back to finish your juice.

“Since she was murdered last night while the party was ongoing, the police will be questioning all the attendees. You will also get a call sometime soon.”

“Hm, I left early so I won’t be much help but sure.” You pretend to be absent-minded. “Anyway, is there anything in my schedule today?’’

Yuna opens her mouth to speak but you get her off with a raise of your hand, “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Cancel it. I need to visit Seungcheol and see how he is doing. He should be at home, no?”

“Yes, madam.”

_

There is a sort of eerieness in the air when you step inside Seungcheol’s mansion. A mais greets you, announcing that Seungcheol is busy seeing a visitor in his study. You lie, telling her he is already expecting you and march towards his room, your heels clicking against the marble floor. You ponder whether it is your imagination that makes his otherwise magnificent home look dull. Maybe it is because of the dark weather outside along with the empty hallways and the lack of usual decorative lights that cast this entire place with a bleak, grey spell. It feels like you have entered the haunted castle of a prince mourning the death of his lover.

If only he knew she was not a lover but a witch.

The voices inside Seungcheol’s study are loud and frustrated enough that you can hear them from the outside quite clearly. Standing in front of the wooden double doors, you lean closer and easily identify Sumin’s father’s voice as he yells. “I need to know who is behind this as soon as possible!”

“Trust me when I say that I will get to the bottom of this.” Replies Seungcheol. “The one who killed her is also an enemy of the Choi family.”

How dramatic. 

You roll your eyes. Would he feel the same if he knew what she was doing behind his back?

“That is why I am telling you to trust me. You cannot make rash decisions now. I have employed a good friend of mine as the leading officer in this case. The truth will be out sooner or later.”

“It should be out soon! The bastard ruined us! He killed my daughter and ruined this entire family!” The old man keeps yelling.

You smirk. 

It is a she. 

He keeps going on about giving his trust to the Chois and telling Seungcheol that he has his full faith in him. You cannot help shaking your head in mirth. Of course, Mr. Lee will say that. He knows that the less he is involved in the investigation, the better because otherwise, all his dirty secrets will be uncovered. He just needs to act like a devastated father and let his daughter’s fiance take care of it.

As you sense their conversation coming to an end, you walk back a few steps, pretending as if you just arrived and are about to make your way inside. The door to the study opens as Mr. Lee steps out, frustrated, murmuring something under his breath. He does not look to be grieving at all which is not a surprise for you. You knew very well that Sumin was only a tool to get him what he wanted, money. 

You greet him with a sad expression but he is too busy thinking to himself that he absentmindedly sends a nod your way before marching away.

Once again, you grin. 

The entire situation keeps getting more hilarious.

With a deep breath, you take a moment to compose yourself before pushing the door and stepping inside his study. Seungcheol who was staring out the window with his hands on his hips turns around as he hears you step inside.

“___?” He is surprised.

Your heart skips a beat as his eyes meet yours. He looks beat down, like he did not get any sleep the whole night, his appearance dishevelled. His white shirt is crinkled, folded messily up to his arms, his hair unstyled and the slightest dust of stubble covering his chin. A glass of half-drunk whiskey sits on his desk.

For one horrible moment, you wonder if he loved Sumin. That would not be possible, this marriage was only a business deal.

“Hey,” You give him a sad smile which comes out genuinely. Stepping closer to him, you pull him in a gentle hug. “I heard the news this morning. I am so sorry.”

Seungcheol nods, reaching for the drink and finishing it in one go.

“Does the police have any leads?”

“No.” He grunts. “It is quite almost the perfect crime.”

Oh my.

“What do you mean?” 

“There is no CCTV footage. It was a blind spot that remained empty most of the time. Sumin did not receive any text messages and there is nothing on her phone that indicates any threats. The last footage of her is her leaving the party by herself and walking towards the abandoned factory. The crime scene was also clean as hell. There are no signs of struggle and the gun is yet to be found.” He grows more frustrated with each word.

You reach to rub his arm soothingly, “Give them some time, I am sure they will find something.”

“I fucking hope so.” He sighs, rubbing his face with his palms.

A grim pause settles in the air and it slowly becomes unnerving. You promptly ask, “Seungcheol?”

“Hm?’’ You calling his name brings him out of his head and makes him turn around to face you properly.

For a horrible moment, your throat closes up. 

As you look into his eyes, flashbacks of the previous night come to you in tsunami waves as you feel yourself slipping into an endless pit. 

You have tried your level best to keep the things Sumin revealed yesterday out of your mind but when you look at Seungcheol, a loathsome sense of betrayal overtakes you. At the same time, there is fear. You are terrified that the look in your eyes gives you away, telling him about the crime you committed last night. 

It is all-consuming, paralyzing. 

Amid the battle of words and thoughts inside your mind, you end up asking, “Did you love her?”

He frowns.

You hold your breath, watching and waiting. A look of offence seems to cover his face and you hate it. He should be saying that he did not love her, they were in an agreement of convenience and she was like a friend to him.

“Why do you ask?’’

You shrug, “No reason. I was just curious. I wonder what it feels like to lose a loved one.” You look away, putting on a face of ponder.

Seungcheol remains silent and you start accepting your defeat, realising he probably fell in love with her. 

What a horrible sensation.

“I was not in love with her if that is what you are asking. I was comfortable with her like a friend and I was happy to share my future with her. She was nice and kind and beautiful, so somewhere along the line I saw myself falling for her.”

For some reason, his words hurt more, despite him saying he is not in love with her. You detest that look in his eyes, a look that says he has transported back in time and is remembering her with fondness that you wish he would feel for you.

“I see,” you whisper. “Anyhow, I hope you find her killer. If you need any help, I am here.”

“Thanks,” he nods. “The police will probably drop by sometime to ask general questions.”

“Hm, I am happy to help even though I am not sure how helpful I can be.”

“It is just general procedure, so don't worry about it.”

“I am not.” You smile.

_

The next afternoon an officer in plain clothes pays a visit to your office. You have been expecting it and you welcome him in your space, offering him a seat on the large couch in the middle of your office room. As you sit down in front of him, an assistant brings two cups of tea before leaving you two alone in a room of silence minus the ticking of the clock.

The officer begins. “I am Sergeant Thomas. You probably know why I am here.”

“Yes, sergeant, I am aware.”

“Right.” He nods before producing a small notebook and a pen from his pocket.

“So this is a basic procedure. Please try to remember as many details as possible.”

“I will try my best,” You nod, crossing one leg over the other.

“Did you talk to the victim on the night of her murder?’’

“No. I arrived late and left early. Besides, she was already very busy talking to everyone.” Truth.

“Did you see anything different about her? Like she was uncomfortable or scared?’’

“No, she seemed to be her normal bubbly self.” Truth.

“Did anything unusual happen at the party?”

“Unusual?”

“Maybe any argument or fight? Between any of the attendees?” He shrugs.

“No, nothing like that.” You shake your head.

He nods. “And when did you leave the party?” 

“Around 9.45 pm.” Lie.

“Why did you leave early?’’

“I had a long work day and a headache was creeping up on me.” Lie.

“Right,” he nods, jotting something down in his notebook. “And when you were leaving did you see anyone suspicious around the area?”

“Not that I remember of, no.”

“Did you see the victim outside? Maybe with someone or by herself?”

“No.” 

The officer sighs loudly. “I guess that covers it.”

A smile creeps on your lips but you cover it by offering him a sympathetic look. “I suppose you have not found many leads yet.”

“Unfortunately so,” the man nods, sipping his tea. “This will be a tough case to break.”

You shift in your seat, “How did she die, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“She was shot in the head.”

You gasp, covering your mouth. “Oh no.”

He nods. “Thank you for your time, President Kim. If you remember anything else please contact me.” He stands up, holding out his card. You take it with a nod. “I will sergeant, thank you.”

“Good day, then.” He sends a nod your way before walking out of your office.

You watch him leave with a diabolic smile before crumpling his card and throwing it in the trash, heaving out a loud sigh.

Level one completed successfully.

_

2 months later

Life is mundane.

With your grandpa still being comatose and the investigation of Sumin’s murder coming to a standstill due to the lack of evidence, there is nothing to keep you on your toes. 

With the lapse of time, you had grown to be indifferent about everything. 

Until now, when debates have sparked about Seungcheol’s capability to lead the Choi Corporation. Finally, the time has come for you to make your second move.                                                   They have been facing a hard time, wavering stock prices and a heavy debate over being in favour or against Seungcheol as the company’s head. With Sumin’s murder and the end of the union with Lee Media, things are extremely unstable as the power-hungry board of trustees deems him unsuitable to lead the company. Not to mention rumours have been going around stating that the Choi family was behind Sumin’s murder.

Now is the perfect time to start working on the second half of your plan. You have been helping them secure investments, regularly sitting for meetings with Seungcheol and his dad to plan new projects. Your plan can now be initiated seamlessly.

Today is another one of those days and you, Seungcheol and his dad have come together in his office after work to go over the profits of the latest joint venture.

“This is good but we can do better.” Mr Choi says, setting down the sheets on the coffee table and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Most shareholders are still against Seungcheol and they want quick results.”

At the mention of his name, the man sighs and looks at his father, exasperated. “Dad, we have gone over this. We need to keep working to rebuild what we have lost. And we’re starting to see results. The board will give up sooner or later.”

“We need something more solid, son. We need something right now to prove to everyone that Choi Corporation still has a very bright future.”

You cannot resist this perfect opportunity. 

Setting down the spreadsheet you were holding, you lean back on the couch and cross your arms before looking at Seungcheol. “You need to form a union.”

Seungcheol raises a thick brow. Mr Choi shuffles, peering at you inquisitively. You have to stifle a pleased smile. “Choi Corporation needs to form a long-term alliance with another big industry.” You pause. “And what better way to do that than through matrimony.”

There is a stretch of silence followed by your words.

Seungcheol scoffs, “What non—”

“Aha!” His father interrupts with a look of pure elation on his face. “You are so right! Why did I not think of this before…” The light in his face starts to diminish. “But which elite family would agree to ally with us now, unless…” An unmistakable flash of hope sparks in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Absolutely delighted, you wait for him to voice the words.

“___, would you… be willing to?” His voice is full of hope.

“Dad!” Seungcheol gasps, standing up and scowling at his father with bafflement.

Oh baby, you are yet to be surprised.

Completely ignoring Seungcheol’s outburst and holding eye contact with his father, you reply. “I would be honored to.”

“What?” Seungcheol whips his head at you.

“Then it is settled,” Mr. Choi stands up with a clap of his hands. “We need to start preparing.”

You finally let your gaze travel to Seungcheol who is looking at you like he cannot believe you just did that. There are unsaid questions in his eyes, mixed with confusion and maybe even suspicion which he does not get to voice because he is going after his father. “Dad, you cannot be serious. Sumin’s case is still unsolved and—”

“You can solve that after the engagement, no? It is important to save the company right now. I understand how you feel but this way we can secure your future. I have known ___’s grandfather for so long and this would be a perfect match.”

Seungcheol looks at his father, distraught. His mouth opens but he fails to form words, raking a frustrated hand through his hair instead.

Watching their interaction you know for sure, you have won this round as well.

-

The next day you pay Seungcheol a visit on your way home from work. When you step inside his mansion, there is a different air about you which is reflected in the way you walk; like you own the place. You find Seungcheol in his study as you expected, still dressed in work clothes as he sips a cup of coffee with his eyes trained on his laptop. For a moment, you let yourself admire the way he looks in that white shirt folded at the sleeves, the top two buttons undone and his perfectly messy hair that can only be made by continuously running his hands through it.

This man is going to be yours.

Knocking on his open door, you make your presence known and step in, “Hey there.”

Seungcheol looks up and when his eyes lock with yours you see the lack of shine they previously used to have when he saw you. There is also a change in his reaction as he greets you by simply uttering your name.

You had expected resistance from him so it is fine.

“I came to check up on you.” You state in your friendliest voice as you stop in front of his desk. Pointing towards the couch on your left, you ask. “May I?”

He nods, watching you sit down and place your crimson handbag on the mahogany coffee table. Then, he gets up and comes to take a seat on the couch opposite you.

“You don’t look well.” You start.

“Yes,” he watches you carefully. “I’ve been trying to adjust myself to the upcoming changes.”

You heave out a sigh. “Listen, I know you are not up for this change—’’

“That’s an understatement,’’ he remarks drily. 

You frown. “I don’t understand why you are mad at me.” You do not hide the indignation in your voice.

Seungcheol regards you silently and you can see that he is trying to hold back questions; questions he has about this sudden partnership, your prompt agreement and your intentions behind them. You see it all in his eyes and you know he does not voice them because they would hurt you, because his suspicion is just a form of his own resistance and he has no proof to back up his theories.

After a long moment, he exhales loudly, letting his head hang low before rubbing his face with his palm.

“This is just…too sudden.” He huffs out a breath before shaking his head. “I still cannot believe you and my dad just fixed my engagement right in front of me without asking me once.”

A small smile graces your lips. “Seungcheol, you know that I will not get engaged to you if you are not fully on board with this idea, right?”

You hold his gaze and notice how his features visibly soften as he nods. You continue. “I understand you are still hooked on what happened and I won’t force you to move on. This will just be a business partnership which will benefit both our companies.”

“You’re right.” Seungcheol murmurs, his eyes cast down as if he is lost in thought.

“Your father wants us to get engaged next week. Are you okay with that?”

Your words make him sit up straight, newfound determination sparkling in his eyes. “That works for me. How about you?”

“Me too.” You give him your most flattering smile.

-

You get engaged to Seungcheol on a Saturday. 

The ceremony is very small— almost nonexistent, taking place only in the presence of Seungcheol’s family, his secretary and yours. Somewhere within you, you sense an emptiness caused by the absence of your grandpa. At the same time, remembering him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You are still wrapping your head around the information Sumin revealed to you months ago. 

Of course, you did some digging and went deeper to find out about your parents, which you never thought you would do. You never thought you would long for them or feel sorry for them, but you do now. Still, the anger does not fade away. It won’t until you get to confront your grandpa, which is why he must wake up. He has to.                                                                                                                         

Immediately after the short engagement ceremony, an official statement is released from both of your companies, sending the press into a frenzy. They treat it as if it is the biggest happening of the decade, even bigger than Seungcheol’s previous engagement, writing hundreds of articles and gossip tabloids. The general public does not hold back either, coming up with various theories linking you, Seungcheol, and Sumin together. Many say that you will be the next victim of the Choi family— they will get rid of you like Sumin. 

Their words make you laugh. If the people knew the truth, what would they say? Would they understand you?

Probably not.

Which is fine, because your lifelong dream has come true.

You are going to marry Choi Seungcheol.

_

Just one week after your engagement, your grandpa wakes up from his coma. 

You are stepping out of the plane after returning from your business trip to Hong Kong when you check the text from your secretary. Your grandpa woke up from his coma two hours ago and is very stable now.

The news has you standing still for a moment. There are mixed feelings but the most prominent feeling you sense is dread. You wonder what he will say. Would anything he say make you love him the way you used to?

Probably not.

When you step into your grandpa’s VIP ward, it is crowded. Your secretary, your grandpa’s caretaker and your future father-in-law are already there, hovering around his bed.

“Look who is here finally!” Mr. Choi grins as he spots you, standing up from his seat that is right by your grandpa’s bed. “Come in, come in.”

Your grandpa is seated on the bed, his back supported by pillows, looking a lot better than the last time you saw him. As soon as he sees you step in, his eyes shine and a large smile spreads on his lips.

A piece of your heart breaks.

“I hope you don’t mind, ____. I have already told him the good news.” Mr Choi says mischievously and you force a smile at him.

“Mr. Choi, could I have a moment with my grandpa, in private?”

“Of course, of course!” He nods and ushers everyone out of the room. When the door closes behind you and the silence settles, you step towards the bed.

“____, come, come! Sit.” Your grandpa motions to the seat by his bed.

Once you are seated, he immediately captures your hand in his, his frail, bony fingers clasping yours tightly as his eyes shine with unshed tears. “Oh ___! So much has happened. How could I miss it all! My little girl got engaged and I missed it!”

You cannot bring yourself to meet his eyes and for some reason, he fails to spot your weird behaviour. He continues, “I have missed you so much. Did you miss me? The nurse told me you have not been visiting regularly.” He looks at you expectantly.

You have to swallow a hard lump in your throat when you finally speak. “Grandpa, we need to talk.”

He lets go of your hands, pinching his brows together. “What is wrong?”

“Is there a secret you are hiding from me?”

“What? What secret?” He scoffs. “What are you—”

“You are my real grandfather, aren’t you?” You snap.

Time stills for a moment. Your grandpa watches you, his eyes slowly widening with alarm as seconds tick by. “I…y-you—” He stammers, looking bewildered. 

You bite your lip hard to stop yourself from crying. “For the last two months, I have been waiting. Hoping, praying, that what I learned is not true even though everything pointed out otherwise. Please, tell me I am wrong. Tell me I am misunderstanding, please! Tell me you did not lie to me, grandpa!” 

By now tears are rolling down your cheeks as you grab his hands in a desperate hold. He does not meet your gaze, looking down instead as he tries to stifle a sob.

“Why did you do it?” Messy tears blur your vision as you shake him, trying to make him look at you. “Why did you hate my parents so much? Why did you hate me so much, tell me!”

“I did not hate you, please— I…I did not know better.” He pleads, holding your hands. “I…I expected better things from your father. He was never the son I wanted him to be and when I found out he had a hidden family, I…I just lost it. I did not want them to die, you have to believe me.” His eyes are wide, his grip on your hands tightening as the desperation comes off him in waves. 

“I felt so guilty that I…I could not look at you. You were so young and the accident left you with that scar and I felt responsible for it. So I sent you to that orphanage but that did not ease my guilt either. I sent you away but I did not forget you. I did not abandon you, I swear! I always had my eyes on you and I made sure you were taken care of. Years went by and as you grew up, I saw what an amazing future you had ahead of you. You— you were good at everything! So I decided to adopt you, give you the opportunity to fill out your potential—

“So I was an investment?” You cut him off with a glare.

“No!” Your grandpa begs. “It wasn’t like that! I…I learned to overlook my guilt. I…I did it out of love, ___. I was miserable without you. You have to believe me.” His eyes hold so much hope and desperation yet every word he says makes him appear more like a stranger to you.

“I don’t care!” You yell, snatching your hands from his grip. The rage flowing through your blood prevents you from remaining seated. You stand on your feet and look down at him, your teeth gritting in anger. “I don’t care if you did it out of love! You lied to me. If you loved me, you would have told me the truth when I was old enough. Did you think I never would have found out? Do you…do you know how awful it made me feel when I heard it from a fucking stranger!” The rage, the betrayal, the frustration you feel is maddening. 

“My child, please, I’m sorry. Just listen—” Your grandpa’s pleas to listen fall deaf on your ears as you glower at him. How could he do that to you? How could he do that to your parents? How is it possible that your heart is ripping apart in pain for two people you don’t even remember?

Absentmindedly, your hand reaches to touch the faded scar on your left cheek, the surface still slightly bumpy to the touch.

Your grandpa grabs your hand once more, breaking the train of your thoughts. As soon as he touches you, you step back, snatching your hand away from his grip.

“___, please, listen to me.” He begs. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I loved you. You were my rock, grandpa. And this is how you repay me?”

The longer you look at him, the crueler you find yourself becoming. The man you have known your entire life starts to appear more and more unfamiliar. Wiping all the tears from your face, you take a deep, shuddering breath. Your hands curl into fists as you look him straight in the eye and announce. “You are not invited to the wedding.”

“What?” He gasps, his mouth hanging agape as one of his hands reaches out to try to grab onto you.

“You heard me. Don’t try to contact me. If I want to see you again, I will come find you.”

You don’t look back as you storm out of the room. 

The old man’s pitiful sobs do not make you turn around as you block the noises by loudly shutting the door behind you.

The first thing you do when you get back home is open a bottle of wine. Chugging a quarter of it, you plop down on the cold living room floor. 

Your phone vibrates with a new message inside your pocket and with an annoyed grunt, you fish it out. There is a missed call from Seungcheol followed by a message from him saying how happy he is that your grandpa woke up. Along with it, there are a bunch of texts from different people in your company and other firms, telling you how glad they are for you and what gifts they have sent for your grandpa.

It is aggravating. In a fit of rage, you hurl your phone away as it hits the couch first before dropping face-down on the floor.

Fuck them all.

You down more of the red liquid, finding the bitter taste oddly addictive. The more you drink the sweeter it tastes as a soothing haziness settles in your brain that numbs every feeling, every thought you had. 

With the bottle almost empty and clutched to your chest, you soon fall asleep on the floor.

Next thing you know, you are violently being shaken awake from your slumber. 

The first thing you feel is a raging headache that leaves your vision blurry for a few solid seconds. When you regain it, you find Yuna hovering over you, grabbing your shoulders. Behind her, you spot the worried face of your housekeeper, Mrs. Min.

Your secretary keeps saying something but the throbbing headache prevents you from hearing any of it as you struggle to sit up straight. Taking a deep, staggering breath, you squeeze your eyes shut before opening them again.

“Madam, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

You finally manage to look at her straight. “Fuck— what is it Yuna? What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“It is 2 am, madam. We have been trying to reach you for the past two hours. Your fiancee is on his way. You were not opening the door so I called your housekeeper to let me in.”

Right, Mrs. Min knows your code.

“I don’t understand, what is the emergency?” You sigh, irately rubbing your temples to ease the headache.

“Madam,” your secretary pauses and you have to force yourself to lift your head again and look at her. “Your grandfather passed away two hours ago.”

Suddenly, your mind is clear.

Your body stiffens, and the headache instantly fades into thin air. You are more alert than you have ever been before.

Wide-eyed, you stare at her, waiting for something you don’t know. Maybe she will say that it is a prank, maybe you will wake up any moment from this nightmare, maybe she will repeat herself and you will realise you heard wrong.

None of that happens.

Yuna continues. “I am really sorry. He was in his sleep when his heart rate suddenly spiked before stopping. They could not bring him back.”

You pick yourself up from the ground before gently sitting down on the couch, your eyes trained on the blank wall ahead of you. An agonizing wave of anguish swallows your whole being as a gaping hole of numbness spreads within you with the passing of each second.

You don’t blink. You don’t move. You don’t cry.

You sit and stare at the wall until your secretary offers. “Should I drive you to the hospital?”

You nod.

“Would you like me to call Mr Choi and tell him to meet you there?”

You nod again.

-

At noon, the funeral ceremony comes to an end.

You get a glimpse of the fruitful life your grandpa lived by the number of guests who come to give you their condolences. 

Thankfully, Seungcheol and his dad took over early on as they ran the ceremony and managed the guests while you sat in a corner in silence. 

The entire ceremony finishes without you shedding a single tear. Neither do you cry in the car as Seungcheol drives you home.

However, the minute you step into your penthouse and tread sluggishly to your bedroom, you spot the photo of you and your grandpa on your nightstand and finally break down.

Holding the photo frame tightly against your chest, you curl into a ball on the floor and howl like a dying creature. Tremors wrack your body as your sob intensifies along with the soul-crushing remorse and pain for what you have lost. 

Perhaps it is your ruinous crying that makes Seungcheol knock on your door as he steps in with a mug of hot tea and finds you curled up and wailing on the floor.

He looks distressed and unsure for a moment, debating whether to give you some privacy before going against it. Instead, he comes closer and sets the mug down on the nightstand before gently placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You continue weeping and Seungcheol slowly maneuvers your feeble body into a sitting position before he scoops you up and sets you down on the bed. But he doesn’t let you go. His arm remains a firm hold around your body and without thinking you wrap your arms around his neck as tightly as humanly possible, trying to bury yourself and your sorrows in his body. Your action makes him only embrace you tighter as he uses one hand to stroke your hair repeatedly in an attempt to comfort you.

“I fought with him the last time I saw him,” you yawl between sobs, face mushed in Seungcheol’s shoulder. “I fought with him, Cheol! He hates me…he will never forgive me.”

“Hush, hush now.” Seungcheol soothes, holding you tighter if that is even possible. “It is alright. He knows how much you love him, ___. He could never be mad at you.”

“I should have told him how much I loved him!” You howl, digging your fingernails into his back. “What have I done, Cheol? How could I do that?”

“It is alright. Everything will be okay.” Seungcheol chants repeatedly while tenderly rocking your limp frame, allowing you to cry your heart out. The tears that had not flowed in the last ten hours pour out ceaselessly, making a mess on Seungcheol’s jacket.

Time ticks by. The tea grows cold. The sun starts to lower in the sky.

When you have finally calmed down and can breathe without choking from tears, Seungcheol lets you go. 

He sits in silence next to you as you wipe your tears and snot using his handkerchief. 

“You should eat something.” He whispers. You shake your head, crumpling the piece of cloth in your hands as you gaze at it in a blank stare.

Next to you, Seungcheol sighs. “Would you like to lie down for a bit? I will give you some privacy.” He stands up but you immediately pull him back down before wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his chest. His arms snake around your body once more as you listen to his heartbeat.

You realize how glad you are to have him next to you. How could you ever go through a day like today without him holding you in his arms?

“Thank you,” your voice is the faintest whisper of gratitude. For a moment, you think he did not hear you but then he shifts, cupping your cheek as you look up at him. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I am sorry this is all I can do.” He tenderly brushes a thumb over the scar on your cheek, making your heart soar. 

You immediately shake your head. “You are doing so much.” You whisper, eyes trailing down to his lips. Mirroring your gaze, Seungcheol’s eyes also travel to your lips and unconsciously, you find yourself leaning a tad bit closer to him. Once again, he mirrors your actions.

Your eyes fall closed and a moment later, you feel Seungcheol’s soft lips against yours. The kiss is tender and shy as if the waters are being tested. You lean in, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to bring him closer. Against your touch, his body relaxes as the kiss deepens, drawing out a soft moan from you. You taste peppermint on his tongue, a sigh of pleasure escaping your lips when he returns your kiss with equal fervent, exploring your mouth.

The kiss is beautifully breathtaking. It is everything you imagined and more, your late night fantasies gift-wrapped in a pink bow. 

Seungcheol is the first one to pull back as the two of you pant for air, still holding on to each other. His eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes as your thumb strokes his cheek and you lean in for another kiss.

This time, it is more passionate as Seungcheol envelops you with his body, gently pushing you behind so that your back meets the mattress. He lays on top of you, one hand holding on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, moving from your waist down to your legs. His warm hand traces down your leg under your skirt before coming back up as he squeezes your thigh.

A moan falls from your lips, breaking the kiss and he uses the opportunity to bite your lip softly. 

His eyes lock with yours for a moment, his hand hovering near your inner thigh as he silently waits for your permission. You comply, reattaching his mouth on yours and opening your legs wider as he gives the flesh of your thigh a particularly harsh squeeze, the pad of his thumb stroking your inner thigh, so close to where you want him to touch you.

Then, you feel the warmth of his fingers over your core before he cups your pussy over your panties.

You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips.

“Touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

Seungcheol obeys you, his fingers slipping underneath your panties and brushing against your pussy. The sensation, the touch you have craved for so long makes you jolt in pleasure, a shaky breath falling from your lips. His biceps become your anchor as you grip them firmly to ground yourself. 

Seungcheol’s lips trace your jaw before trailing down your neck while his fingers rub your pussy. Your hips writhe, chasing his touch while he peppers your neck with kisses before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he pushes one finger in, dark eyes trained on you as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Yes,” you shut your eyes closed, revelling the feeling of his finger inside you. Soon, one finger becomes two and he slowly moves them in and out of you. One of your legs wraps around his waist while you pull him closer to smash your lips against his. Your tongue meets his with a fiery passion, an urgency to claim his as yours. Inside you, his fingers pick up the pace, making your body taught as you start climbing your high. 

“C-Cheol…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes even though you are unsure if you want to come right now or draw it out.

“Hm?” He hums, eyes hazy with a film of lust. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“Please,” you heave, clutching his shoulder with one hand and wrapping the other around the broad expanse of his back. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Oh fuck, yes,” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you clutch him tighter. “I’m gonna come.”

“Do it then,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you and flicks your clit hard which does the job for you. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure. 

The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss. 

When your mind has regained some clarity, you see Seungchol still lying on top of you, his eyes locked in on your lips which he is touching with the fingers that were inside of you mere moments ago. Without breaking eye contact with him, you gently hold his hand and push his index and middle finger inside your mouth, sucking them. Seungcheol’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flickering with impure intentions that are clearly expressed from his hard-on digging into your belly.

Sucking his fingers clean, you pop them off your mouth, your hand still holding his. Your fingers trace over his knuckles and veins, your eyes never daring to stray from his. It is as if a sudden spell has been cast on the two of you that has locked you in a trance of breathless admiration. It is a shame all good moments must come to an end.

As if zapped by electricity, Seungcheol suddenly pulls his hand out of yours as he gets off your body. The air in the room suddenly shifts to slight awkwardness as Seungcheol blinks furiously, adjusting his pants.

“I…I am sorry.” He mutters, not looking at you as you sit up on the bed. “You were mourning. I should not have done that.”

“I asked you to.” You state with a frown. Does he regret it? “I needed to forget…things for a moment.”

Seungcheol’s eyes finally meet yours as a sigh escapes from his lips and he nods, looking unsure. “Right…”

“I liked it a lot.” You find yourself saying. The look in your eyes is heated, mirroring a newfound fire of desire he has lit within you. Seungcheol swallows, gaze transfixed on you before he clears his throat, the look in his eyes shifting.

“Get some rest.” He whispers, walking out of the room and gently shutting the door behind him.

-

Turns out one can live with soul-crushing guilt.

It has been a week since your grandpa’s death and you find yourself slowly falling back into your old routine. As the days pass by slowly, the pain somewhat lessens but your guilt remains the same, your conscience constantly reminding you of what could have been if you behaved differently with him that day.

That is an answer you will never receive because what is gone is gone, and you are forcing yourself to learn to live with it.

Things with Seungcheol are slightly tense as well. After that particular moment you two shared last week, he has been avoidant. Since that day there has not been any one-on-one interaction between the two of you as he has been checking up on you from time to time with brief text messages. His aloofness has bothered you of course but you have decided not to let it get to you, happy with the fading mark he left on your neck and the memories of that afternoon.

That is why, on a Tuesday afternoon at your office, Seungcheol’s sudden visit surprises you because it is the last place you would expect him to show up. 

You straighten up in your chair, palms resting on the armrest as he marches into your office, dressed in his regular office wear that is covered underneath a long black trenchcoat, an odd sort of hurry in his steps. 

Your silly assumption that he is here to take you on a surprise date quickly changes when you notice the expression on his face. His jaw is clenched, brows knitted in a frown as he regards you with an accusatory glare.

“Seungcheol?” You stand up behind your desk. “Hey, what brings you here?”

Seungcheol’s brisk steps eat up the rest of the distance as he stands in front of your desk, sparing little space between the two of you. Instead of replying, his eyes remain fixed on you for a moment too long, making you hold your breath. 

Your gut senses severe doom from how he regards you, an unfathomable look in his eyes. Finally, he interrogates. “Is there something you are hiding from me, ___?”

“What?” You blink, stumped. “Why would you ask that?”

Seungcheol falls into silence once again as your mind starts running rampant. No matter how desperately you try to convince yourself that he could not possibly be talking about that thing, your mind ends up going there. The silence and the foreign look in his eyes make your fear unimaginably real with each passing second.

“I need you to be honest with me.” He says as he inhales deeply, as if trying to hold his emotions at bay, his eyes never straying from yours. “Please. I am giving you a chance.”

Your heart runs a mile a minute as you suddenly find yourself at a loss for words. The entirety of your body grows as stiff as a board while you find yourself falling into a bottomless pit of ruination. Seungcheol remains unmoving, watching you with a pointed gaze as you struggle to read him, struggle to find the right words. You feel so naked, so transparent right now as if he can read everything fleeting through your mind. 

Damn it, how did he find out?

“Madam, the board meeting started five minutes ago.” 

A sharp inhale transports you out of your spiralling mind as you whip your head away from Seungcheol when your secretary peers into the room with the reminder. 

Like you have been struck by lightning, your body jolts. “Y-yes, I am coming. Give me a minute.” You give her a look of dismissal before focusing on your fiance. In your most composed voice, you say, “I don’t know what this is about, Cheol but we can continue this conversation—”

“I will send you an address.” He cuts you off with a seething glare, stepping away from your desk as if he is about to leave. “You will be there at 9 pm, ___.” There is no room for arguments.

He leaves before you can form an answer and you stand rooted in your spot with tremors in your hands and a parched throat, your feet suddenly too heavy to move. 

You deep down knew this would happen one day, didn’t you? 

You would be found sooner or later but you never wished to be caught by Seungcheol. You would have much preferred to be caught by the police and given a life sentence. At least that way, you did not have to face him.

“Madam?” There is a knock on your door once again, making you jump.

“Damn it, Yuna! I said give me a minute!”

_

It is one minute to nine pm when you arrive at the location Seungcheol had sent you earlier in the day. You realized karma had gotten you when you clicked on the location and realised it was the exact place where Sumin died. 

The world stopped spinning for a moment too long.

Out of pure shock, you dropped your phone from your hands as your knees gave out and you fell to the ground, the realization that everything is coming to an end too much for you to fathom.

Surprisingly, though, it has been easy for you after the initial shock wore off. You had accepted your fate.

Gladly, in fact.

No more pretending now. It is a relief. He knows the real you and whatever decision he makes now, you will accept it gladly. You do not feel remorse for what you have done and you do not see a point in hiding anymore.

And so, you sit in your car, parked a few meters away from the place where he called you. Seungcheol is already here, his car parked a few feet ahead of yours. When you glance at the dashboard clock, you see it is two minutes past nine.

With a loud sigh, you pop the muscles in your neck before stepping out of the car. A gust of chilly air flows by, making you shiver slightly. With your hands fisted in the pockets of your trench coat, you walk ahead, the sound of your heels against the granite your only company.

All too soon, you find yourself in front of that abandoned factory and when you look left, it feels like deja vu. Seungcheol stands there, underneath that yellow street lamp, right where Sumin stood that night. 

Your eyes meet his, cold and unblinking and if you did not know any better, you would think he was a statue. A very mesmerising one.

You inhale a lungful of the cold night air before turning left and walking towards him, trying your best to ignore the subtle tremble in your legs. With a few feet of distance left between the two of you, you come to a stop and breathe. “Good evening, Cheol.”

He keeps looking at you impassively but you start noticing the minute changes in his eyes. They shift from disappointment to betrayal to anger and you know very well what lies ahead of you. 

Yet, you are unreasonably calm; so calm that you surprise yourself.

Just when you are preparing to start the conversation since he is immobile, Seungcheol reaches into his coat pocket to fish out his phone. His brows tangle in a soft furrow as he scrolls through it before lowering his hand and gently tossing it on the ground, a few steps away from your feet. The device remains face-up on the ground as a video plays.

A dash cam footage from the night of Sumin’s death. You can tell from the angle that the car was parked on the cliff right after the empty field behind where you stand, at an angle that is looking straight at the side wall of the factory, just a couple of meters before the left turn to the front of it. The video keeps running, grainy and slightly blurry due to the distance and the darkness of the night except for a faint hue of yellow light from this very street lamp. You know very well what the next footage will be.

As you imagined, the video plays on and a few seconds later, it shows you coming from the direction of the warehouse before marching away, out of the view.

“There were two cars parked on that cliff that night,” Seunghcheol points upwards, to the cliff behind you. “This is the dash cam footage of one of the cars. Care to explain, ___?” The fury in his eyes is unmistakable.

You breathe out a soft sigh. What does he want? He knows very well what this footage implies so why did he not just hand this over to the police? Standing here in front of him while he demands an explanation feels nothing short of torture to you.

“Go ahead,” He hisses, taking a step towards you. “Claim that it is not you. Tell me I am getting this wrong. Fucking say something!”

“You know very well, Cheol. What do you want me to say?” You finally find your voice which is as soft as a feather.

Furious, he marches towards you, grabbing you by the collars and it is truly a deja vu of that night. “Why did you do it?” He screams, shaking you, his pupils wide with bristling resentment. “Why did you kill her?” He hollers again.

His face is a mere inch or so away from you, so close that you can feel his warm breath puffing out in the cold night air, so close that you can feel the blizzard of emotions radiating off him.

He really cared for her. He might have loved her without even knowing.

Fuck, that thought burns like acid down your throat.

“She had everything I wanted.” You finally find yourself whispering. Seungcheol grows still upon hearing your words as you see the storm in his eyes die down. The entire world seems to quiten for a second as you only hear the two of you breathing. His brows remain furrowed as he regards you with confusion, his grip on your collar faltering. You breathe out, repeating. “Sumin had everything I ever wanted, Cheol.”

“And what was it?” He snaps.

You swallow a lump in your throat but never lose eye contact with him. “You.”

Like he has been electrocuted, Seungcheol lets go of you and takes an immediate step back. His pupils dilate as his mouth opens just slightly in bafflement. You find his reaction almost funny. Overdramatic as well. 

Is it really that shocking?

“Stop playing fucking games, ___.’’ He scoffs after the shock has worn off.

“It is true.” You take a step towards him with a new surge of energy in your blood. “I have wanted you since forever…since I was 18. Since the day of your father’s party after you returned from abroad I have longed for you.”

With each word you speak, his jaw hardens and a look of disbelief and something akin to disgust graces his face. 

“I have loved you for so long, Seungcheol and then Sumin appeared one day and took you away.” Your pitch loudens as your desperation grows. 

He needs to understand you, he needs to see you. 

You are not some cold-blooded monster. You are just someone madly in love with him.

“So you killed her!” He seethes.

“She was not right for you!” You cry, eyes blown out, teeth gritting. “She did not love you, Seungcheol! She was using you!”

He closes the gap between the two of you as he roughly grabs the side of your neck, tilting your head upwards. “Shut. Up.” He seethes, his eyes so dark, his gaze so fierce you almost feel like you have been burned down to a pile of ashes. “You are not only a murderer but also a fucking liar.”

A mirthless laughter escapes your lips as you take a step back from his grip and shake your head. You had expected this. You understand he will not believe you this instant but now that he knows what you have done, it will not take too long for him to find out what Sumin and her family was up to. He will believe your words then.

It is a shame you will most likely be behind bars by then.

“Stop laughing!” He shouts, frustrated. Raking a hand through his hair, he stares at the ground before looking back at you, his eyes shining in a look of desperation and betrayal. “I trusted you. You were like my family, ___. How could you do this?”

You cannot bear how disgusted he appears with you. 

Why cannot he just shoot you like you shot Sumin?

“You are my family too, Cheol.” You blink back tears. “The feelings I have for you are beyond something anyone can ever comprehend and…it is fine. I prefer it that way. I would burn the world for you, Choi Seungcheol so please don’t look at me with so much hatred.”

“You—” Seungcheol shakes his head with a frustrated grunt. “Just tell me where the fucking gun is.”

There is a faint smile you cannot hold back. “I got rid of it long ago.” You pause. “But don’t worry, this dashcam footage will be enough along with my confession.”

He looks at you with disbelief. 

You give him a sad smile. 

“Don’t act noble, ___. I know what you are capable of.” He hisses. “I will not trust a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I am not lying. I won’t run away, Cheol. I promise. Just don’t call the police to my office. I would rather be arrested at home.”

Seungcheol is perplexed with your attitude and after a long moment of silence, when you realize he has nothing more to say, you start walking backwards.

“Goodbye, Cheol. It was really nice knowing you.” With your vision blurry due to unshed tears, you flash him a smile before quickly turning around and heading for your car, not looking back. 

You drive all the way home in silence before finally parking your car in the parking lot of your apartment. As the engine dies down, leaving you without its gentle hum, you sit in silence and let the reality of your life wash over you. 

You have had a good life. You wonder what it will be like behind the bars. You will plead guilty no matter what your lawyer says and you have no intention of lying and claiming you feel remorse for your actions. A life sentence awaits you for sure, maybe with no parole.

Shaking your head at the absurdity of your future, you rest your hands over the steering wheel, putting your head on them and closing your eyes. Your engagement ring digs into your forehead and you look up to see the small diamond glinting softly. It suddenly feels foreign on your skin and the longer you look at it, the worse it appears. Prying it off your fingers you fist it in your palm, half tempted to break it.

“I hope we can have a good life.” You remember Seungcheol’s words when he slipped that ring on your finger.

And finally, the dam breaks. You clutch the little trinket to your chest as you curl your body into a small ball and weep with your head hanging low. Soon, you cannot stop stifling the noise as your sobs turn into violent cries and in a fit of rage, hopelessness and longing, you punch your dashboard hard enough for your knuckles to bleed.

At some point, the blood seeping from your knuckles dries but your tears don’t.

_

You do not go to your office the next day for obvious reasons.

Instead, you spend the day cleaning your apartment and setting everything in its place one last time while waiting for uniformed officers to knock on your door. 

Hours tick by and it never happens, puzzling you. 

When the remnants of colour start fading from the dusk sky, someone rings your doorbell. You open it to find Seungcheol’s driver. 

“Mr Choi has asked you to come to his house.”

Baffled even further, you quickly change your clothes and follow him out. The man drives you to Seungcheol’s mansion and you hesitantly step outside of the car when you reach your destination all too quickly. The lady who is Seungcheol’s head of staff comes to greet you as she escorts you to his study, holding the door open for you to step in and then closing it softly behind you.

In the dimly lit room, Seungcheol sits at his desk with a glass of whiskey in his hand, his chair turned around so that he faces the window behind him. Tentatively, you walk closer to him and he slightly turns his head to look at you. His eyes are barren, devoid of any emotion, almost inhumane. 

A breath catches in your throat but you do not break your eye contact.

“Why did you bring me here?” You whisper, for some reason too scared to speak out loud.

“To have a serious discussion about our futures.” His tone is flat as he swivels his chair to face you.

What is that supposed to mean? 

Swallowing, you wait for him to elaborate.

“Does anyone else know what you did?” He asks.

His question throws you off slightly. “Just you. Though…in a way, my driver knows. I asked him to leave early with the empty car and told him to lie and say I was in the car if anyone asked.”

“So basically he knows.”

“Yes, but he is probably the only employee I trust. He has been extremely loyal to my grandfather and me.”

“This is a murder we are talking about.”

“If he wanted to rat me out, he would have done it by now. Besides, he did not witness it.” You frown, pausing. “Wait, I don't understand where this is going. Why are you asking me this?”

Seungcheol sighs, standing up. Pressing his hands flat on his desk, he looks directly into your eyes and leans closer. “Because I am going to cover it up.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong. There is no way—

“I am going to bury what you did.” He grunts, appearing disgusted with himself as he speaks the words. “I already got rid of the CCTV footage.”

Your jaw drops, as you subconsciously step back, gripping the back of the couch behind you. “I- I don’t understand…”

“I am not doing this for you.” He spits, scowling at you. “I am doing this for my family.”

You are still at a loss for words, trying to process everything coming out of his lips.

Seungcheol exhales a sigh of defeat, “I have thought about this long and hard. I cannot do this to my family, especially to my father. He was so excited about my marriage to Sumin and now he is ten times more excited to see us getting married. If he found out his ex daughter-in-law was murdered by you, his future daughter-in-law, someone he has always been fond of,” he shakes his head. “It would kill him. Plus, the company would suffer. The board wants to see me married and if my second engagement is ruined as well, I will not be running the company any time soon. My father would be devastated.”

You inhale a lungful of air. “So… you are saying you will still marry me.”

“That is the only way left is it not? Marrying a murderer.” He grits his teeth, his eyes shooting invisible arrows of fire at you.

“No.” Suddenly, your brain clears up. “No, it is not.” Your voice is determined. “This is not what I want!”

“Excuse me?” Seungcheol scoffs.

“I do not want to trap you in this marriage. You are marrying me against your will. I do not accept this. We will come up with an excuse. You can say I cheated on you or something.”

Seungcheol watches you in silence for a long moment before rounding his desk and coming close to you. Making you jerk in surprise, he grabs your arms and holds them tightly, his eyes flashing dangerously in the dimly lit room. “Listen to me very carefully, ____. You have ruined me enough to last a lifetime. Do not ruin my family and my company now. From now on, you will do as I say and play the part of the happiest bride-to-be. Is that fucking clear?’’

You stare at him in defiance.

“Is that clear?” His tone drops as his gaze darkens, giving you goosebumps. “You have done enough for me. No need to act noble and say that you don’t want to trap me when this was your plan all along.”

No, no. That is not true at all. You wanted him to love you. You wanted to be there when he needed help and you wanted him to come to you voluntarily. You were protecting him. He was never supposed to find out all this.

“Seungcheol, you are mistundertsanding me—”

“Are we clear?” He yells, shaking you by the arms.

“Yes.” You whisper. 

“Good.” He releases you. “Get out of my sight.”

You blink back tears and swallow a lump in your throat, slowly stepping towards the door with unsteady feet. Just as your fingertips touch the knob, you come to a stop. “Seungcheol?”

You hear a sigh of annoyance. “What?”

You turn around and ask, “Is there anything that you have been hiding from me?”

He raises a brow. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

There is a slight shrug of your shoulders. “Nothing, I just… You know, something like the fact that you knew that me and my grandfather were in fact, related by blood and he adopted me not because I was the one who caught his eye among all the others at the orphanage but due to his guilt for killing my parents.”

With each word that leaves your lips, Seungcheol’s pupils dilate and, ironically, he looks more astounded now than when you confessed to killing Sumin. 

For an achingly long moment, heavy silence hangs in the air and you never let your eyes stray from his, patiently waiting for what he has to say.

“How did you find out?” His tone is low.

“Sumin told me.”

You really did not think it was possible for him to look even more bewildered but he does. He abruptly marches towards you and leans forward, asking. “Sumin?” 

“Yes,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at his shock. 

“I don’t understand—”

“You know,” You cut him off. “I don’t remember my parents so I have never missed them and to some extent, I now understand why my grandfather did what he did. What I don’t understand is why he lied to me, why you all lied to me. And why I had to hear the truth from someone like Sumin. It doesn’t make sense, does it? You all were in the joke and no one once thought how I would feel if I found out.”

“You were not supposed to find out.” His tone is flat and the look he is giving you is enraging; like you have no right to be mad.

“And you were not supposed to find out that I killed your ex-fiance!” You scream.

Seungcheol exhales loudly, rubbing a hand over his face as he looks down at the ground. “Why did Sumin tell you this, ___?” His tone is sharp as if you are being investigated at a police station.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” He hisses, frustrated. “Why would she go out of her way to tell you that?”

“I found out some of her secrets and I threatened her with them.” You don’t let your eyes stray from his.

“What secrets?” His eyes darken.

You rub a frustrated hand over your forehead while resting the other on your hip. Not this again.

“It's better that you don’t know, Seungcheol.”

“Answer me, ___.” He inhales a sharp breath and grits his teeth, his patience is running thin.

So is yours.

From the pocket of your trousers, you fish out a recorder and toss it over to his table. “Since you want to know so bad, here you go. It has all the answers, the last conversation I had with her and her final moments.”

You see apprehension in his eyes as he watches the little black device sitting on his desk. “After listening to that, you might go back on your word.” You warn. Because the sound of you unlocking the safety of your gun is in there. Because the sound of Sumin’s lifeless body hitting the ground is in there.

“And if you decide to hand me over to the police after this,” You give a nonchalant shrug. “I completely understand. Just don’t destroy the record. There is only one copy and it is the best evidence you will have of this case.”

Seungcheol stands rooted to his spot, looking at you impassively as you close the door behind you.

-

Three days go by and the police do not come and you realize, once again Seungcheol has decided to brush what you did under the rug. It is a fixed feeling, mostly bitter if you are being honest with yourself. What lies ahead of you now is a bleak future where you and Seungcheol will live under one roof with stifling disgust. His friends and family will visit and you will have to pretend to be the happiest couple in front of them.

As you are returning home from work on Tuesday with all these thoughts bridling in your head, you receive a text from an unknown number.

Someone has texted you a location along with a message.

I have your man. If you want him to live, bring me 10 million dollars in this location within the next hour. Come alone or I will slice his head off.

For one moment you think— no, try to convince yourself that you are seeing things wrong and this is only a prank. However, you start to break into a cold sweat when you dial Seungcheol’s number with shaky hands and it goes unanswered. Petrified, you call his secretary next and he picks up on the fifth ring.

“Madam-”

“Where is Seungcheol? I cannot reach him.” You try to keep your voice as stable as possible yet a tremor slips through. Your gut prepares you for the worst when you hear a commotion in the background as his secretary takes a second too long to reply.

“Madam, I am really sorry. We were leaving work when two vans surrounded us on the highway and threw smoke bombs at us. They hit me in the head and took away Mr Choi after knocking him out. But don’t worry madam, the police have been informed—”

You hang up. 

Fucking hell.

The first thing you do is dial your secretary, throwing her into a furor as you order her to arrange the money and have it ready in half an hour at your place. 

When you reach home, you quickly discard your work clothes and put on a hoodie and sweatpants along with some good running shoes as a disguise. Your next task is to hurry down to your basement where you have stored your grandfather's collection of antic guns. You had it moved here after his death and thank god for that. Picking a long-barreled revolver, you check the chamber before tucking it in your waistband. 

Upstairs, your secretary waits with a duffel bag in her hands, struggling to hold the weight. Her face is littered with unsaid questions as you snatch the bag from her hands and storm past her. The weight of the cash hi nders your mobility, making you slower.

“If you say a word about this to anyone else I will gut you. And if you keep your mouth shut and go home like nothing happened, I will triple your salary.” You hiss at Yuna who’s eyes widen hearing the reward. 

Firing your Hennessey to life, you press the accelerator hard as you pull your car out of the basement and zoom down the street. The clock on the dashboard says you have exactly twenty-five minutes till your one hour is over and you whisper a silent prayer to whoever is up there for a traffic-free road. 

As you near your destination, you realize the location that was sent to you is a small, old two-storeyed storehouse near the seaport, once used to store cargo. Located a little further from the main port, it is a dingy building with cracked walls and missing windows and a backdrop of thick, dense forest, appearing haunted in the darkness of the night. 

With a deep inhale, you step out of your car and lock it. A slight shiver runs down your spine as you calculate your odds of rescuing Seungcheol safely. You don’t know who is waiting for you in there and if they even have him with them. Of course, you have a suspect in your mind and if they are alone, it should be easy to tackle them. Still, you make a risky decision.

You call the police.

“Hello, I have a tip about the kidnapping of Choi Seungcheol of the Choi Corporation. I am sending you my location. How long will it take you to get here?

“It will take about 12 minutes for the officers to reach the scene. Are you alone ma'am? Please do not go inside if you—”

You hang up the call and march towards the building carrying the duffel bag. With the reassurance that the police will be here soon, you step inside. 

The ground floor is eerily quiet and almost shrouded in complete darkness.

Somewhere nearby, the wolves howl.

The utter lack of light and noise tells you that the first floor is empty so you follow the stairs up to the second floor, illuminated by tube lights hanging very low from the ceiling.

Your cautious steps lead you to a wide, poorly lit hallway on the second floor. However, as you step into the corridor, you see a faint glow of orange hue on your right. 

This is it.

Feet moving automatically, your whole body tenses up as you grip the duffel with one hand and keep the other free, hovering over the back of your waist. Unlike the first floor, the construction of the second was left incomplete so at the end of the hallway there are no individual rooms but instead a big one. 

And there is Seungcheol.

With his hands and legs tied to a chair, he sits with his head hanging low, his tired frame illuminated by the small fire lit in front of him.

Best of all, there is no one else in the room.

“Seungcheol!” You cry, running straight to him.

He is baffled, gaping at you as you rush over to him, scrambling to untie his hands and legs as fast as possible.

“___? I- I don’t understand…How did you—”

“Hush.” You whisper, untying the last knot to free his leg before standing up to take a look at his face. There is a wound on his head, half-dried blood soaking his hair as your stomach forms knots, worried.

“We need to get you to a hospital.” You whisper, throat dry as you reach behind him to undo his hands.

“What a sweet reunion it is, no?” A familiar voice echoes, halting your action.

You whip your head around and there he stands, the man you suspected. 

Sumin’s father, Lee Ryunwoo. You should have taken care of him long ago.

The blood in your veins runs cold as you immediately step in front of Seungcheol to cover him. The man emerges from the shadows, waving a gun in his hand as he orders, “Try to play smart with me and I’ll blow your head off.”

“Why did you kidnap him?” You ask, watching his movements warily as you cover Seungcheol with your frame. “Do you think you can get out of this so easily?”

From behind you, Seungcheol’s quiet voice echoes. “He knows, ___.”

You freeze, immediately understanding what he is referring to.

What? How?

“You are awfully mouthy for a bitch who shot my daughter,” Ryunwoo smirks, stepping closer to you. He presses the barrel of the gun to your throat before pulling it away, flashing you a cruel smirk. You swallow the lump in your throat as your brain frantically thinks of the next move. Maybe calling the police was not the best idea.

“Imagine my surprise when I find that recorder.” You watch cautiously as he walks past you and kneels in front of the duffel back, his gun aimed at you. Using one hand, he opens the zipper, shuffling the cash around as he checks it. “Yes, I had someone break into his office after he started acting dodgy. I knew something was going on.” He pauses to look at Seungcheol. “Everything was going so wonderfully. You were so confident about a lead and then you suddenly claim it was nothing? You should have been more careful, son.” He chuckles with a shake of his head. 

You assess the situation, carefully watching his body language. Despite the gun in his hand pointing at you, his eyes are cast downwards, focused on the money.

You realize this might be your only chance.

Ever so carefully, you pull your revolver from your waistband, pointing it just slightly over his arm and pull the trigger.

Your sudden action has both the men confused as the bullet flies a mere half an inch above Ryunwoo’s hand, making him drop his gun and fall on his ass. 

“___! Stop!’’ Seungcheol yells from behind you, struggling to free himself from the chair while you step towards Ryunwoo, pointing the gun at his head.

“Where is the recorder?” You ask. 

He has the balls to chuckle. “This little thing?” From the breast pocket of his jacket, he slowly pulls out the little black device. 

“Hand it over.” You order, stepping closer.

His cackle echoes through the barren room, overpowering Seungcheol’s yells of protest. 

“Come and take it.” It is a challenge. 

You grit your teeth, popping a vein in your neck. “I could just shoot you right now.”

“Like you shot Sumin?” The smirk does not wipe off his face.

“___, for fucks sake! Don’t!” Seungcheol yells.

You would have gladly taken the shot had the police not already been on their way. Against your will, you decide to play his game. Pointing your gun with one hand, you extend the other, holding your palm open. “Give it. Now.”

The tip of your fingers brush against the device when the police siren is heard. Ryunwoo immediately pulls the device back as he bellows, “You called the cops, you bitch!”

Using his momentary distraction to your advantage, you lunge at him, knocking him down hard on his head and snatching the recorder from his hand. 

The next moment someone grabs your arm to pull you off of him and you look up to see Seungcheol. “Cheol! You—”

“The police will be here any second. They will investigate you if you hurt him.” He warns, pulling you towards him. On the floor, Ryunwoo groans, cupping his head and spewing curses at you. Outside, the sirens grow louder as you hear the commotion and the footsteps of the officers entering the building.

“Come,” Seungcheol attempts to guide you away by your shoulders when suddenly, you are dragged down. Ryunwoo’s abrupt pull on your leg makes you fall face down on the ground as the gun slips through your fingers upon impact. Seungcheol tries and fails to grab onto you in time as you are pulled backward by a rough grip. His entire body comes to a complete halt with his eyes widening in fear when he looks behind you, slowly raising his arms in surrender.

At the entrance of the room, the officers crowd, yelling at Ryunwoo to drop his weapon. 

That is when you actually feel the cold barrel of his gun pressed to your temple.

Oh fuck.

Exhaling a shaky breath, you turn your head ever so slightly to look at him. 

“I am going to blow your brains out and then go to jail, you cunt. How dare you trick me?” he sneers, venom dripping from his tone. His eyes are akin to a madman’s as the warnings of the officers fall deaf to his ears.

He really is going to shoot. 

Your eyes wander over to Seungcheol one last time before they fall closed the moment a gun goes off.

There is a ringing in your ears and you realise the right side of your face feels wet. 

A couple of seconds pass by before you open your eyes to find Ryunwoo lying on the ground behind you with a bullet hole in his head. The police rush in as Seungcheol tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around you as you stare at the dead body. 

You feel like you are stuck in a trance as everything around you moves in slow motion, your eyesight getting slightly blurry as your heart thumps loudly in your chest. You do not know whether it is relief or trauma but your legs suddenly feel like jelly.

Seungcheol has to call your name multiple times to make you look at him. “___? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

You shake your head, blinking a few times to focus your vision. You are still lost in your own head, thinking about how close you were to getting exposed and how you managed to save yourself by a hairsbreadth. “The recorder?’’ You question quietly.

“Don’t worry, I have it.” He wraps his arms around you tighter.

A faint smile of relief comes to your face and you dare to rest your face on Seungcheol’s chest. To your utter relief, he does not oppose you but gently cradles your head.

“Thank you.” You hear him say. Surprised, you look up at his face to be greeted by a shocking sight. There is a beautiful smile on his lips that makes his eyes shine.

“For what?” You croak, suddenly emotional.

“For saving me.”

-

10 days later

Seungcheol’s best friend Jihoon is getting engaged today. 

Clad in a pastel pink blouse and a matching skirt, you silently sit next to your fiance in the car, your eyes trained outside the window. Seungcheol, like most times, does not attempt to break the delicate silence.

It is frustrating, especially because this is how he has been for the past ten days. Silent. As if his ex-father-in-law did not hold a gun to your head and then got killed by the police. As if you did not murder his ex-fiance and the proof of it is in his hands. 

The morning after that fateful night, both of you were asked at the police station for your statements. It was a basic procedure before they started uncovering the skeletons in Ryunwoo’s closet; the murders he committed right after he became the CEO of Lee Media to hide his corruption and the money he embezzled. His bankruptcy also came to light along with the millions of dollars of debt he was in and the shady works he did to earn money for it. 

Soon after that, the news of Sumin cheating on Seungcheol also came out. Someone anonymously leaked pictures of her and the model she was dating and the public was ruthless with their comments even though Sumin was dead. 

After all the news broke, they were the talk of the town. A group of reporters even tried to swarm you at every chance, hoping to get some details from you. 

When you met Seungcheol later in the week, he did not bring up the issues at all and instead went about his day as normal, bewildering you. One might think that the news never reached him. He never addressed them and you were too anxious to bring them up, afraid to lose the minimum attention you were getting from him.

Still, your worries have not vanished into thin air. It has been a weird few days and the more time passes, you cannot help but think things will go awry any second and you will fall face down into a nightmare all over again.

The car comes to a halt in front of Jihoon’s house and a valet holds open your door, helping you step out. Seungcheol rounds the car to come next to you. “Come on,” he says, buttoning his suit and stepping forward. Your hands reach for him mindlessly as you stop him by grabbing his hand. 

He turns back, a brow raised in confusion.

“Seungcheol.” You state, looking him in the eye. 

“What?”

You have a lot to say; so much that the thoughts tangle into intricate knots in your head and provide your lips with nothing. He waits for you to speak and you finally whisper, “Do you still have the recorder?”

The look in his eyes changes as he steps closer to you, holding eye contact. “Why? Do you think I handed it over to the police?” He sounds amused.

“I—” You pause, unsure what to say. It is undeniable that a small part of you has been worrying about that.

A short laughter of amusement comes from his lips before he becomes serious. “I burned it, ___.”

Your eyes widen in astonishment. Parting your lips, you let out a breath of surprise. 

“I…I don’t know what to say,” You whisper. “I was scared. You have been so quiet the last few days and—”

“I am trying to put what happened behind me.’’ He states, something foreign flashing in his eyes.

You remain silent, watching his face intently, hoping he can see the gratefulness in your eyes. His gaze is soft, brimming with an emotion you can’t put a name to but constricts your throat and makes your heart soar with hope.  “Seungcheol, I—” You are cut off as he presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss that makes your toes curl. You lose your balance, your body falling against his as you melt in his arms. 

A heated look of mischief and desire swims in his eyes when he pulls back to look at you.

“Call me Cheol,” he smirks, gripping your hand tightly by weaving his fingers with yours. With long steps he heads for the entrance, tugging you with him who is now sporting a love-struck grin.

When a villainess loves, she makes sure to get the guy no matter what it takes.

Want more of them? Click here for a bonus scene of 2k words that is only available on my Patreon! It is not only smutty but there is also a part from Seungcheol's pov!

© startlightxsvt 2024 | All rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N: okay, so that was that. how was it? do lmk your feedback. also, if you have any questions about the characters or anything you are curious about, send me an ask, I'll fill in the blanks for you. what did you think about the ending? i purposefully left it a bit open because i don't see them being all head over heels for e/o (i mean oc is a simp ofc but not cheol). in fact, i imagine a very different ending for them in the long run, lol. and who knows, maybe i will write a part 2 someday, no promises tho. and if you noticed (im sure you did) this one does not have almost any smut. the reason for that was one, i find it extremely hard to write and two, i might write a small smutty epilogue in my patreon depending on how well this fic is received. we'll see. anyways, i'll stop the rant now. stay healthy and happy!

[joooooniecore]

Confessed by the wrong person

scoupsxfem!reader, best friends to lovers, happy ending

PLOT: a reunion changes everything between you and your best friend Seungcheol. A revengeful confession. Will you both be able to find each other back? Or drift apart?

WARNINGS: smut, explicit language, bodily fluids mentioned, tiny bullying? smut has been marked(skip if uncomfortable)

______________________________________________________________

CTRL+A and backspace. These two are the only things you have known for the past two months. Being an author is fun they said. You would call yourself kind of a newbie author who rose into fame through her debut book. You are a romance book writer but recently you are trying to do something a little different for your fifth book. A mystery thriller encapsuled in a romance book. Its different and hence you are unable to think of any possible plots. A tenuous job. Your agent was kind enough to give you six months' time to finish this book. Your other books were doing great so you could sit back and relax a bit while working on this book.

The doorbell was what brought you out of your endless turmoil. You groaned a bit while getting up from the office chair that have by now moulded itself to the shape of your body. Your hips cracking a bit as you walked up to the door to see who it was. Opening the door widely, you are welcomed by a very happy Choi Seungcheol.

Seungcheol has been your best friend for ages. You both went to the same high school and later attended the same university. It was always you both. From the awkward teenage phase to the pressure of university projects. You both never left each other's sides and everyone around you knew that. You were a duo. A duo many loved but also many hated. The hate list mostly included Seungcheol's dates. All of them miraculously hated you even if you rarely met him. You weren't exactly the type of person who would try to be in her male friend's arms pretending to be platonic. You maintained distance and never sabotaged his dates.

Even if you were in love with him.

"I bought food, now move.", Seungcheol said as he pushed past you and kept the food on the dining table before taking his usual spot on the couch.

"Why are you here?", you asked clearly confused.

"Why? Can't I meet my best friend?", Seungcheol feigned a pout.

You rolled your eyes before replying, "No idiot. I strongly believe that one should work on weekdays."

Seungcheol shrugged his shoulders before replying, "I am the boss so..."

Seungcheol took over his dad's company once he completed his studies. It was his lifelong dream to become a business man. His dad is a very lenient man and actually never pressured Seungcheol into inheriting his company but Seungcheol wanted to do that. So now, with his dad retired, he is the current CEO of the company. You were actually proud of him for achieving something like that at such a young age.

You checked the packets he had bought and it was mostly snacks. You picked out two packets of chips and sat beside him before handing him one.

"How is your book coming along?", Seungcheol asked between bites.

"It's umm well not going great.", you answered with not much confidence in your voice.

"Why? What's wrong?", Seungcheol asked.

"I am unable to create the plot.", you truthfully confessed. You have been struggling to arrange the plot for over a month now and it was killing you from inside. Normally you struggle with writing lines but it has never happened to you that you have not a single plot idea in mind.

"You will be fine. Don't worry.", Seungcheol said as he patted your back.

"Are you going to the reunion?", Seungcheol asked.

The reunion. That is something you have been dreading for quite some time. You love your classmates, there is no lie in that. But you hated that one girl who had once been your entire life. Your ex best friend. The girl you shared everything with. The girl who was there on your highs and lows and the girl who was the only one who knew how you harbored a tiny crush for your male best friend. Haewon.

You and Haewon became close very quickly and were each other's solace. You both went to classes together and even shared weekends at each other's dorm rooms. Seungcheol being in the different department actually gave you less time to meet him so most of your time was taken over by Haewon. Then she started expanding her friend circle. She would talk to the more popular girls of the department and hang out with them more often. The meet ups increased and slowly she abandoned you. She became mean, closed off and somewhat invincible.

You tried to talk with her many times, reminding her about the friendship you both shared but nothing bothered her. She was proud of being one of the famous girls in the class and you were simply a dark spot in her ever so flashy life. You gave up. After that one fight which has been the nastiest fight you have ever encountered, you walked out of her life and planned on never looking back.

"I am not sure Cheol.", you said clearly not willing to face Haewon and her new friends. You knew they will be there, showing off the successes they have had after university.

"Come on. I have no one else to go with.", Seungcheol nagged.

"Don't lie. Jeonghan is going, I know.", your grumbled.

"Yes, but we both know that he is going to flirt all night.", Seungcheol reasoned.

You chuckled a bit after remembering how good Jeonghan is at flirting with literally anyone he finds attractive. You thought for a bit, and seeing how Seungcheol really has no one to go with, you agreed. He jumped on you, hugging you tight as if you saved him from some sort of apocalypse.

______________________________________________________________

The next few days went by in a blur. You were added to the reunion group and you were fearing to even look at the members of the group. The reunion was actually going to be a weekend long trip to a nearby beach city. A simple weekend with old friends sounded so fun if you omitted that one group of people. You decided to not think about it.

It was one morning when you woke up earlier than you do and went out for a walk in the park. You normally exercised at home or in the gym that was attached to your apartment complex but you felt like you need some fresh air. As you walked through the beautiful scenery of the park, you could see many people who have come for morning walks, jogs or even to take their dog out. There were elderly people exercising in the middle of the green ground and you kind of found it peaceful.

After rounding the entire park two times, you decided to sit on a bench and rest. A little while later, you felt someone sit beside you but you were so engrossed in thinking about the plot that you barely noticed.

"Want a drink?", came the deep voice from beside you.

You whipped your head to see Seungcheol smiling at you. His forehead was glistening with sweat from exercising or running laps and he was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt for god's sake. His biceps proudly on display and his abs and rigid chest slightly visible through the sweat dripping shirt that was stuck to his body like a glove.

You gulped a bit, trying to maintain your composure and nodded your head. He took out an energy drink from his backpack and handed it over to you not before opening the can by himself.

"There you go.", he said with a tender smile.

These were the kind of things that Seungcheol did which made your heart flutter. He would pay for your dinners, send food to your house, buy you expensive gifts and even run to you whenever you need him. He was a gentleman through and through. You have never seen him miss a chance to open the car door for you. You normally looked at these things through a platonic eye but at certain moments they urged you to ask him "What are we?"

You took the drink and chugged it down in one go, coughing a bit when the strong acid hit the back of your throat.

"Easy there love.", Seungcheol said as he patted your back to help you control your reactions. The warmth of his hand on your back did nothing but send shivers down your spine. Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to control yourself.

"You run here?", you asked after you have controlled your hiccups.

"Yes. I always come here for running. Great place.", Seungcheol explained as he himself took a sip of the drink he was holding.

"Why have I never known about this?", you asked.

"Well maybe because rich people go to apartment attached gyms.", he joked, elbowing you.

"Yah! You are rich too!", you pouted.

"I live in a house, not apartment.", he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and hit him in the chest which did nothing to him. Instead, it made your imagination go wild when your hands laid flat on his chest even if it were for a fraction of second. The hardness of his muscles imprinted on your palm as you flinched a bit and laughed nervously.

"When will you go home?", he asked after a while.

"In a bit.", you replied, enjoying the nature around you.

"Let me walk you back to your house.", Seungcheol said as he got up.

"I can walk back myself.", you said as you also got up and started walking but couldn't reach far as he held your elbow firmly and pulled you closer to him.

"W-What's wrong?", you asked, internally cursing at how you stuttered.

"You see that man over there.", he said as he subtly pointed at this very strange man.

"Yeah? What about him?", you asked.

"He has been eyeing you since past ten minutes. Its only eight in the morning and the streets are empty. Let me. Please.", he practically begged you.

You nodded and started walking with him. And as if on cue, the man eyed you, trying to find a way to see if Seungcheol was going to be with you and that felt like a gut punch. You hated how men thought of women as easy targets, almost trying to attack even if it is in the broad daylight.

After reaching the apartment door, you asked Seungcheol to come in for breakfast which he declined saying that he needs to run some errands before he visits his office.

The rest of the day went by quickly as you sat on your desk and thought of plots. You were actually elated when you thought of a good plot and even discussed it with your agent who gave you a green signal. You racked your brain for ideas and finally by evening, your first chapter was done and you have almost decided eighty percent of the ending.

A phone call took you out of your zone as you picked up the phone to find Jeonghan calling.

"Hello Jeonghan-ah!", you smiled.

"Hie! I have been meaning to call you. How have you been?", Jeonghan said.

"I have been great. What about you?", you asked.

"Great. I heard you are coming to the reunion with Seungcheol.", he said and you could hear the teasing in his voice.

Jeonghan is someone you can never hide something from. He will know and there is no denying in that. The first day he saw you and Seungcheol together at that one party, he came up to you and bombarded you with questions and you quickly complied and told him about your feelings. He laughed and said that Seungcheol was really dumb to miss on a girl like you which you were not sure if was true or not. Why would Seungcheol regret it? You are no one special. And with his money and looks, Choi Seungcheol can date anyone he wants. Then why you?

"I am going yes.", you answered with a sigh.

"Come on it will be fun. So, you both entering like a couple or...?", Jeonghan asked.

"No! We are going as friends Jeonghan.", you answered through gritted teeth.

"Wow stupid people. Anyways, just so you know, I won't let Haewon and her minions ruin this trip for you.", Jeonghan firmly confirmed.

______________________________________________________________

The day of the reunion came closer and your heart started beating faster. You were stressed about your book itself and on top of that you haven't packed anything for your trip. Everything was a mess and it overwhelmed you. You panicked so much that you lied down on the ground in your living room and cried. Finally, when you realized that the panic wasn't going away, you called Seungcheol.

"Hello?", came Seungcheol's husky voice.

"Hey umm are you busy?", you asked, clearly unsure of how you should say this.

"A bit. Why?", said Seungcheol

"Oh. Then no worries.", you quickly said.

"____. What happened?", Seungcheol demanded sternly.

"Its nothing important.", you tried to dismiss the situation.

"You say it or I come there and find out myself.", he warned.

"I was just having a panic attack as everything was overwhelming me so I thought of calling you.", you explained.

"Are you okay now? Do I need to come right now?", Seungcheol asked, clearly concerned.

"I am fine now.", you said.

"Okay. Listen to me carefully. I want you to take some rest and give me half an hour. I will come to you by then.", Seungcheol explained.

"No. Its not required.", you reasoned.

"Just listen to me once.", Seungcheol groaned and you agreed.

Half an hour later, Seungcheol was actually standing in your living room, helping you sort through your dresses with the help of his sister. She commented on every dress and was glad enough to help you pick some good ones.

"Thank you Seunghee.", you said as you smiled at her through the phone.

"Noona, can I talk to you for a second. Go to the other room.", she said.

"Why? I also want to hear it.", Seungcheol visibly pouted.

"No dummy. I want to have a girl talk.", Seunghee rolled her eyes.

You gladly took the phone from Seungcheol's hands and went to your bedroom before plugging your headphone in.

"What is it?", you finally asked.

"You remember the red dress that I rejected?", she asked and you nodded. It's a bodycon, mini dress with shimmery design and looks absolutely great on you. You were actually disheartened when Seunghee said no to it.

"Pack that when Seungcheol goes back home.", she said with a smirk.

"Huh? Why?", you asked, clearly confused.

"You are dumb enough to not see that my brother likes you.", Seunghee rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time.

"What? He doesn't!", you whisper yelled.

"Trust me this one time please. Take that dress and wear it on the night of party. Please.", she pleaded with those glistening eyes that you can never say no to. Seunghee was someone you immensely adored and so you easily caved in.

After the conversation, you handed the phone back to Seungcheol and when he asked about what his sister said, you denied it saying it was related to some girly stuffs that he won't be interested in. You have heard many people say that Seungcheol might like you but for the first time you let someone's words actually affect you. Seunghee's words were enough to put a seed of doubt in your mind and you started seeing everything Seungcheol did from a different perspective.

______________________________________________________________

The journey to the beach town was nothing special. Everyone boarded the train and went there, clearly not sitting side by side. You saw Haewon once but she was soon off to a different coach with her friends. It felt like a relief to you. The rest of the journey went by you and Seungcheol eating, reading, listening to songs and laughing while remembering your college days.

The hotel was pleasant looking. It looked over the beach and gave an amazing view of the sea. You have always been a beach person and finding out that your room overlooked the ocean made you all giddy from inside. After setting your luggage in your room, you went to the attached balcony to enjoy the view. Seungcheol knocked on your door and informed you that everyone is planning to eat something before resting for the evening.

You had some food and sat at the farthest corner, clearly trying to avoid Haewon. You only looked up when Seungcheol sat across you with his food and when someone came by you to greet you and talk with you for a bit. Most of the people who came on the trip were nice. They talked with you with the same enthusiasm that they showed during your college days. Jeonghan was coming later in the evening because he had to get some job done before he catches the train.

The rest of the evening went along without any more interactions. You locked yourself in your room and worked on the book. You have made quite some progress and were actually proud with how good it was coming out. You busied yourself with finished at least the initial segments of the story, weaving most of the mystery and romance that were the main focus of your book.

After dinner you were too tired to even keep up with most of the conversations and you decided to call it a day.

The next day, everyone decided to hit the beach. Jeonghan was finally here and you along with Seungcheol decided to go together. You weren't exactly feeling comfortable in wearing a bikini so you decided on a tank cropped top and some shorts.

As you walked out of your room, you felt someone eyeing you as you turned to see Seungcheol leaning against one of the pillars in the main reception area. He gave you a lazy smile as he walked up to you.

"Good morning.", he said in a soft voice and your heart skipped a beat.

"Morning. Where is Jeonghan?", you asked, trying to compose yourself.

"He is already gone. You are late madam.", he teased and you simply rolled your eyes before walking out of the door, followed by Seungcheol who was simply smiling from ear to ear.

As soon as you stepped on the sand, you saw Haewon and her friends in bikini, lying on beach towels and tanning themselves. You decided to maintain a distance and sit a bit farther near other classmates. They gladly welcomed you and soon you were laughing and chatting happily with them. They even congratulated you for your successful releases. One of the girls even brought one of your books with her on the trip and you were happy enough to sign it for her. It felt good to see people actually being happy seeing you succeed.

"I didn't see you in the hotel last night.", came a high-pitched voice from behind you.

You turned to see Haewon standing there and just said, "I had an early dinner."

"Why? Growing old I see. Or is it your boring books that make you old?", she smirked and you really had no idea why she hated you so much.

You just smiled at her and that seemed to infuriate her more as she walked off.

"I don't like her.", said one of the classmates and all you could was simply agree.

The tension didn't die down from there. Every time you went past her and her friends; they would glare at you. From commenting on your looks to almost faking their concern about your weight gain. You have seen and heard many such things and this was not going to ruin you. Past you would have broken down and cried for days but present you was successful and had a very strong mental grip.

"You know why Haewon hates you so much?", Jeonghan asked as soon as he sat beside you.

You both were currently in the hotel garden that was beautifully decorated with all kinds of flowers.

"Because I am boring?", you answered unsure.

"No! She doesn't care about that.", Jeonghan laughed.

"Then why? I haven't done a thing to her.", you reasoned.

"She likes Seungcheol. Let me tell you a secret. She confessed to Seungcheol on the graduation day.", Jeonghan whispered.

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, "What? Seungcheol never said me that."

Jeonghan laughed a bit and said, "Yes. He knew you hated her and so he just didn't want to bother you more. He rejected her."

"Really? For me?", you were shocked by this new information.

"Yes. He said to her that he can't accept it because of what she has done to you and hence Haewon hates you. Because Seungcheol chose you over her.", Jeonghan concluded.

With this information in mind, you felt like you should infuriate her more. The plan was approved by Jeonghan and he even told you to glam up. It was Saturday and everyone will be gathering in the party hall of the hotel for a reunion party before they go back home the next day.

You decided to wear the red dress and even called Seunghee to help you with your makeup. She was more than happy to help. She told you to leave your hair open and un-styled because it looked good in its natural wavey form. She told you to do subtle makeup but put some bold red lipstick. The dress did the rest of the job as it hugged your curves perfectly. Finally strapping in the high heels, you were ready to go.

Seungcheol was already at the party when you entered with Jeonghan. The moment you entered, you saw Seungcheol get up and walk to you.

Jeonghan whispered a little 'enjoy' and left your side to talk with someone else.

Your breath hitched when you saw Seungcheol check you out from top to bottom. His hot gaze never leaving your figure as he took long strides and in a mere matter of minutes was standing in front of you, towering you even if you were wearing high heels.

"Hi.", you finally said.

"Wow. You- I mean don't take in the wrong way but you look very pretty.", Seungcheol sighed, his hot breath fanning your face.

"Thank you. You also don't look bad.", you teased and he smirked.

You both sat near the bar and ordered few drinks. Laughing and judging everyone that came here. You both shared a bond that nothing could break and at these moments you wished for him to stay in your life forever. Even if you never confess, you would want him to stay as a friend.

"Let's play truth and dare.", someone yelled and everyone agreed, soon huddling into a circle.

You sat in between Seungcheol and Jeonghan on the chair and someone spun the bottle. The game continued for like thirty minutes or so before it finally landed in between you and Mina, Haewon's friend. Your breath hitched as you saw Haewon smirk before whispering something to her friend.

You chose truth just to play it safe.

"Tell me a secret of yours that no one knows about?", she asked.

You racked your brain a bit and finally said, "Umm I write better when sitting in my bathtub."

There were some giggles and relief washed over you. Seungcheol looked at you as if you have offended him and said, "What? How do you use your laptop in that situation?" and you simply just flipped him off.

"Come one ____, you know we want something worse.", Mina smirked.

Your eyes went wide as you said, "I-I don't have such secrets."

"Seriously? You don't? You are not secretly harboring a crush on someone for years now?", challenged Mina and you knew you were fucked.

Seungcheol went stiff beside you as you saw him slightly retract his hands that were originally resting on the back rest of your chair. You quickly felt the loss of warmth that was coming from his hand over your shoulders.

"I-no I don't.", you answered but the slight tremor in your voice gave it away.

This time Haewon stepped in, meaning to ruin you for once and for all as she simply said, "So you are telling me that you are not in love with your best friend?"

That was the final nail on your coffin. You stiffened as you could only look down. Your mind raced as everyone around you hollered. As if on cue, Seungcheol rested his hand on your back and you flinched. You got up, murmuring a small 'excuse me' and left the party even though you could hear your friends call you. Without thinking anything you ran straight to your room and while you fumbled with the keys, you felt a presence behind you.

You turned around to see Seungcheol standing there, breathing heavily as if he has run hundred miles.

"Damn woman. How can you walk so fast in those heels?", he managed to breath normally.

"I- can you leave me alone please?", you pleaded.

"No. We both know that we need to talk.", he answered sternly and you were left with no option but to welcome him inside.

He sat on the bed and patted the space beside him for you to sit. The closeness caused shivers down your spine as you sat down.

"Listen-", he was about to start talking but you stopped him and spoke first.

"I know. I am sorry for hiding it. I didn't want to ruin our friendship and its fine that you don't have feelings for me. You can end the friendship if you want. I was just scared to confess because I knew you would never like someone lik-", this time you were cut off but not by his words, rather by his lips. On yours.

!!SMUT STARTS FROM HERE!!

Without realizing what was happening, you kissed him back. The kiss soon escalated as you both devoured each other's mouth before creating a distance only to breath.

"W-Wha- What was that?", you stammered.

"I didn't know how to shut you up darling.", Seungcheol said with an easy smile.

His fingers were placed on your hip as he firmly kneaded the skin and it sent shivers down your spine. Even if you were wearing clothes, you could feel the warmth of his hand right across your skin.

"I- you? Why would you?", you were at loss of words.

"I have liked you for a long time too. I also didn't want to ruin our friendship and hence I went on all those meaningless dates so that I could move on from you which never happened. I never moved on from you. You were it for me and I should have confessed sooner. I am sorry."

His confession made you blush as you closed the distance and kissed him. Your body molding with his as he pulled you on his lap, your dress riding up a bit as you sat on his thighs.

"This dress has been driving me insane all night.", Seungcheol groaned as he firmly gripped your hips and made you grind on his lap. You moaned in response as your slowly moved your hips in a rhythmic motion.

"The moment I saw you, I wanted to slam you against a wall and kiss you dumb.", said Seungcheol as he stared at your eyes with nothing but lust.

"Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me dumb.", you teased as you dipped your head a bit but didn't exactly kiss him.

This seemed to work wonders as he groaned and kissed you harshly. It wasn't a sweet kiss. This kiss was all teeth. It was a storm after a calm day. It was like the oceans that gushed and hit the shore harshly. His tongue played like waves inside your mouth as his hands grazed over every part of your body, as if memorizing you.

Seungcheol found the chain of the dress and slowly pulled it down, as you got out of it. The dress bunching up near your hips only.

"Fuck.", Seungcheol whispered as he saw the lingerie you were wearing.

"Please tell me that it is a matching set.", he pleaded and you nodded shyly.

"Did you wear this for me?", Seungcheol smirked.

"Kind of. Jeonghan said to see how you would react if I wear the dress.", you explained shyly.

"Oh, I will react. I will react very well.", his voice turned huskier as he cupped your clothed breast and took one in his mouth. With the material still in between his tongue and your breast, it created a delicious friction that made you grind your hips more.

"Fuck I will go crazy. You are so responsive baby.", He whispered against your skin as he unhooked the bra.

"Seungcheol...", you moaned.

"What is it darling?"

"Please Seungcheol.", you had no idea what you were begging for.

"What do you want?", he smirked as he picked you up and threw you on the bed before hovering over you.

"Take it off please. Take your shirt off.", you begged.

Seungcheol delivered. He stood on his knees and in a painfully slow pace, unbuttoned his shirt before throwing it aside. You were welcomed with his toned chest. You audibly moaned and that seemed to boast Seungcheol's ego.

"Loving the view?", he teased

"Of course.", you said as you did a come-hither motion to which he complied.

He dipped his head and trailed kisses down your chest. Starting from your neck, he marked every inch of your skin as you writhed under him. With an agonizing slow pace his mouth finally hovered over your core, which earned a moan from you.

"Please. Seungcheol, please.", you moaned.

"Patience baby.", Seungcheol chuckled and finally teased your core with his tongue which slowly turned into more aggressive licks as he devoured you. All you could do was moan and writhe which also got restricted when he used his left hand to hold your hips down with one strong grip.

Soon you were coming undone on his tongue, as your body shook and all you could do was moan his name.

"I love when you moan my name.", Seungcheol said as he looked at you, his chin glistening with your juices which made you even more aroused.

Suddenly you sat up and pushed him down on bed, before unbuckling his belt and rubbing his throbbing member over the fabric of his underwear. He let out a guttural moan and you smirked in victory. Having such a big strong man moan under you felt so good that you almost got wet again.

"Don't tease me love.", Seungcheol groaned and who were you to deny him.

You quickly dragged his pants and underwear down in one go and his dick sprang up, standing proud and thick.

"Fuck you are big.", you moaned as you moved your palm up and down the length before giving the tip kitten licks.

You took his whole dick in and bobbed your head while consecutively using your hand to create more friction. Seungcheol's fingers went through your hair before gripping it tight to control the bobbing of your head, fucking your mouth deep. Your eyes glistened with tears as you moaned at the feeling of being used by him.

"Fuck baby. You take me so well.", moaned Seungcheol before picking you up in one go and throwing you on the bed again.

"So wet from just sucking me?", Seungcheol teased before sinking two of his fingers in.

"Seungcheol, please fuck me. I don't need your fingers right now.", you moaned and Seungcheol obliged.

"I-I don't have condoms.", Seungcheol confessed shyly.

"It's okay. I am on birth control and clean.", you said to which he simply smiled and kissed you.

"I am also clean so, can I?", he asked and you nodded.

Lining his dick to your core, he slowly sunk in, giving you time to adjust.

"Fuck you are so tight.", he groaned, his eyebrows furrowing as he let out a disgruntled sigh.

"Seungcheol...", you moaned his name as you supported yourself by holding his biceps.

"Keep saying my name. Let everyone know who is fucking you right.", Seungcheol demanded and you moaned his name loud.

"Cheol fuck.", you whispered as you moaned and groaned.

"That's it. Baby, cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Cream me fuck.", Seungcheol whimpered as he kept his pace steady and firm.

Within seconds you were reaching your high again as you creamed his cock. Seungcheol pace didn't slow as he kept pounding into you, making a mess out of you. Your juices were everywhere as sweat formed on your forehead. Seungcheol dipped his head, as your foreheads were against each other and whispered, "I am gonna cum baby."

"Then cum Cheol. Cum inside me. Fill me up.", you said in a lust laden voice and that was Seungcheol's undoing as he came inside you.

!!SMUT ENDS HERE!!

After catching his breath, he lied down beside you for a bit before getting up to bring a warm water-soaked towel to clean you and then clean himself. After showering, you wore Seungcheol's shirt and lied down on the soft bed. Seungcheol joined you as he pulled your back against his chest and nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

"I love you.", he whispered and your heart melted.

"I love you too Cheollie.", you smiled as he giggled.

Then Seungcheol started laughing as you turned your head and gave him a questioning look.

"We are idiots, aren't we?", he giggled and you laughed along with him.

"You know what I am thinking?", you said.

"What?", asked Seungcheol.

"Haewon's face when she sees us hand in hand in the morning.", you smirked and Seungcheol gave a hearty laugh.

"You are a menace my love.", he teased and then you both dozed off.

______________________________________________________________

Author's note: First of all, ignore any sort of typos or grammatical mistakes. I am still trying to get a hang of this app as I have never made such long posts on this app before. Now, I love best friends to lovers trope so much and hence I really wanted to write this. I dreamed about this plot and I needed to write it down. I hope everyone enjoys it.

[mocchiixxx]

La Mia Fuga Seventeen Yandere Series | #13: Choi Seungcheol | S.coups x Reader

Genre: Psychological Thriller, Dark Romance, Yandere, Angst

Summary: You ran and even though S.coups wasn't there, his other members found you and keep you captive during the remaining days of Nana Tour. After months of hiding, Seungcheol’s brothers drag you back to him— wounded, betrayed, and waiting. This time, there’s no escape.

The villa was eerily quiet.

Too quiet.

You had been asleep, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the Amalfi cliffs. The bed you had grown accustomed to in the past two months felt warmer tonight, but you had ignored it, convincing yourself it was just the lingering heat from the summer air.

But then...

A whisper.

Soft. Amused.

“Finally.”

Your eyes snapped open.

And that’s when you realized...

You weren’t alone.

A sharp gasp left your lips, but before you could move, before you could scream, a firm hand clamped over your mouth.

“Shh,” Joshua’s voice murmured against your ear. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, y/n.”

Your heart stopped.

Panic surged through you, your body thrashing instinctively, but another set of hands pinned you down.

“Damn,” Mingyu huffed, his grip tightening around your wrists not enough to leave bruises. “You always make things difficult for him, don’t you?”

Your breath came in short, frantic gasps.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Relax,” Seungkwan cooed from the foot of the bed, his usual warmth laced with something off. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Not physically, at least.

You kicked out, desperate, but a low chuckle filled the room.

“Still a fighter,” Wonwoo mused, stepping into view. His glasses glinted under the dim light, but his gaze remained impassive. “Not that it matters.”

Terror crawled up your throat.

This was planned.

This was inevitable.

You should have known.

You should have never let your guard down.

“Seungcheol-hyung is waiting,” Minghao said simply, as if that statement alone sealed your fate.

And in a way,

It did.

Because even after two months of silence, two months of running, you knew.

Seungcheol never stopped waiting.

Never stopped aching.

Never stopped needing you back.

Your vision blurred as Joshua’s grip loosened, replacing the suffocating pressure with something more… gentle.

Almost comforting.

Almost.

You should have leave the country immediately when you caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette in the crowded Piazza Grande.

You should have run the moment you spotted Wonwoo and Jun at a distance, sitting outside a café, dressed in a casual white shirt and short with their name on the front, seemingly one of the tourists.

How naive of you to think they hadn't saw you.

You should've run to protect your freedom.

But you hadn’t and that's how things lead into this...

Them, tracking your location and them who will lead you back to him.

A cold shiver run down your spine with that last thought. No! They couldn't bring you back to him, he'll be so mad at you.

Although Seungcheol hadn't hurt you once, physical, this time you doubt it.

You betrayed and trick him that's why you escape and now you don't know what he'll do to you once they bring you back to Seoul and to him.

“Please,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, they stilled.

Then, Jeonghan sighed.

“Oh, love.” He crouched beside you, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His touch was featherlight, deceivingly soft. “You should’ve known better.”

The walls felt like they were closing in.

Jun leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted in amusement. “This would’ve been easier if you had just come back on your own.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “I—I’m not going back.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then,

A smirk.

“That’s cute,” Vernon muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

But it was Chan who delivered the final blow.

He leaned in, eyes gleaming under the dim light.

“You don’t have a choice.”

Your stomach twisted.

“He's been out of it since you left. Even have injurybthat can cause his career, all because you left.” Jeonghan's sweet voice echoes in the whole villa. “Aren't you guilty? It's because of you he's not here with us to enjoy a vacation. You should take responsibility right... Y/n?” he added, gently stroking your face and tucking your hair that fall down your face behind your ear.

“As if she have a choice. Get her already, we need to tell S.coups we found her here.” Woozi's cold voice cut the silence after Jeonghan that makes the latter chuckles angelically.

But you know better.

Jeonghan is a devil in disguise despite having an angelic face.

You didn't argue when they guided you to stand up, make you wear a black hoodie to conceal your identity.

Because deep down...

You knew that they were right.

You don't have choice in this.

And so did they.

They had kept you in to a luxurious hotel, delivering you food every day until the remaining days of Nana Tour has come to an end.

And when it happened, they forcefully took you with them back to Seoul. That's why you found yourself in this situation. Trapped between Joshua and Jeonghan in a black van going back to your prison. Seungcheol's place.

He already know you were coming back to him because they tell him that they have you the moment they locked you in a hotel after finding you.

The drive back to the house that become your cage was suffocating.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody had to.

The heavy presence sitting beside you was enough.

You expect a full on scream in range when they finally brought you to him but all you met was a silent Seungcheol and it makes your blood run cold.

There's nothing good of him being silent when he's mad.

Seungcheol hadn’t said a word since they brought you to him.

Not when you were escorted into the house by Joshua and Mingyu.

Not when you had weakly struggled, knowing full well it was pointless.

Not even when they finally placed you in front of him.

But the weight of his gaze was unbearable.

He sat there, one arm resting against the sofa he was sitting, his eyes dark and unreadable.

You swallowed hard.

“Seungcheol—”

“Don’t.”

His voice was hoarse.

Rough.

Tired.

Your lips parted, but the look in his eyes stopped you cold.

It wasn’t anger.

It wasn’t hatred.

It was betrayal.

Raw. Unfiltered.

Painful.

The others lingered in the background, but this moment, this reckoning, was for you and him alone.

Seungcheol finally exhaled, his grip tightening around his cane.

“Do you know what it was like?”

Your throat tightened.

“To wake up every day without you?”

A lump formed in your chest.

Seungcheol let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

“You broke me.”

Your hands trembled.

His fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to reach for you.

But then...

He didn’t.

He didn’t have to.

Because when he spoke next,

It was over.

“You’re never leaving again.” he said, voice full of authority. “And if you try again, ” he trailed of, gesturing you to come closer to him.

You didn't want too but your body move on its own as if paralyzed in the way he gaze at you.

Full of dominance.

Once you're in his reach he pulls you down gently, your face so close to each other that one wrong move and your lips will touch.

“I promise you won’t be able to take another step again, baby.” he said in a gentle but threatening voice before kissing the corner of your lips that makes your blood run cold.

You know he wasn't the type to abused you physically but...

this time,

You believed him.

A/N: La Mia Fuga (My Escape) has come to an end. Thank you for reading this series yeorobun!🫶

[bitchlessdino]

what to expect this sluttober...

no set order, simply all in the works

LINKS WILL BE AVAILABLE ON THE BANNERS WHEN POSTED, AND A ✅ NEXT TO THE SYNOPSIS WILL INDICATED IT'S POST STATUS.

Link

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. ✅✅✅

Link

Pairing: fem!eader x stalker!joshua

Genre: thriller, smut, stalker au

Summary: Diary entries of a man in love. Joshua knew he loved you the moment he laid his eyes on you and had to have you, even if it meant enduring the echoes of every intimate detail of every sexual encounter you’d had before him. But he knew you were worth the wait. He was worth the wait.✅✅✅

Pairing: fem!witch hunter!reader x witch!seokmin

Genre: supernatural dramedy, forbidden romance, suggestive (tbd)

Summary: For millennia, witches have lived among humans, seamlessly blending into society while safeguarding their ancient histories. Alongside them were witch hunters, driven by a singular purpose: to eradicate powerful witches in the name of peace and safety. But the secrets hidden in plain sight are about to unravel, exposing the true nature of the lives they’ve all been living. Starting with the rare one of a hundred boy witches, Lee Seokmin.

Link

Pairing: murderer!seungcheol x murderer!wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: horror, scream au, gore, smut

Summary: This worn-out little town has seen its fair share of bloodshed, but now there are two new Ghostfaces in town—and their eyes are set on you. Someone who craves intimacy just as much as they enjoy sinking their daggers into something. ✅✅✅

Link

Pairing: Frenemy!fem!reader x minder reader!chan

Genre: supernatural comedy, smut

Summary: If Chan had to read anyone’s mind, it had to be yours—the one person who seemed to loathe him with every ounce of your being. But on Halloween day, when that wish is suddenly granted, he begins to realize he’s opened a can of worms far bigger than he ever imagined—one that can’t be sealed shut again. ✅✅✅

[miabebe]

Anything and Always (YJH)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it wasn't regardless of anything and longer than always?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Yoon Jeonghan

Word count - 3.9K (this is a miracle)

Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and then there's more pyscho-ness, it's a rideee! Warnings under the cut!

A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you goooo! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's!

Big big big thanks to @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - you guys were really the hands behind this one ❤️

warnings - death, murder, blood, lots of toxic emotions like jealousy, possessiveness, extreme insensitivity, PDA, sex in a public place but no one sees them? unprotected sex, rough sex, filthy talk, marking, manhandling, mentions of blowjobs and sloppy seconds, mentions of exhibitionism, choking, creampie, fingering, stalking, obsession, disposing bodies mentioned?, honestly this whole fic is just a warning at this point, idk what to say

“.....Police say that this is possibly the most brutal act of violence they have come across in Seoul city in a long time. The forensics department is still trying to identify the body but estimate that the time of death might have been around 6 months ago. The motive of the crime is still unclear and….”  

Ignoring the sound of the tv you glanced at the two figures on the other side of the glass, standing close to each other, snickering away. Your hand tightened around the letter opener, the sharp edge slicing your skin open, blood trickling down your fist. The crimson felt cold but there was a strange fire coursing through your being.

How dare she? How dare she twirl her hair like a schoolgirl and put her hands on him? And what kind of fool did she take you to be? Did she think you couldn’t see the way she was stuck to your boyfriend like a leech or did she want you to see her making a move on your man? If it was the latter then she was most definitely successful – your eyes hadn’t left their huddled figures in the last ten minutes. At least not until red began to leak onto the papers strewn on the table. Groaning slightly, you quickly let the blade go and grabbed a tissue instead.

But you couldn’t let go of what was happening outside.

Pushing your chair back, you reached for your red satin gloves and slipped them on, covering your wound. It stung as the cloth grazed your skin but you knew it would feel better later, when you’ll run your hand through your boyfriend’s soft tresses as he fucks you into oblivion. He always made everything so much better. 

In complete contrast to the professional approach you’ve always advised your employees to maintain, you opened the door of your cabin and walked over to the pair, hugging your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Han.” You muttered, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck before glancing at the woman before you. She tried not to look at you, the same way the entire office was averting their eyes, choosing to look down at the floor instead. Afterall, no one wanted to see their boss romancing right in the middle of the workspace. You didn’t care what they thought, at least not anymore. All that mattered to you was what Jeonghan felt, so when he slowly pulled your hands away from him, you were a little hurt.

But in all fairness, Jeonghan was always like this. Always so wary of people around him, always so conscious, always so proper. If you were being honest, even you used to be the same until a few months ago. Until Jeonghan came into your life to be precise.

Before him life was different. Inheriting your father’s company at such a young age meant you had to prove you were worthy, you had to make sure you were taken seriously. That’s why you made it a point to enforce discipline at work – employees always had to be on time, tardiness was looked down upon, improper dressing was not allowed, discussing anything unrelated to work was not permitted and office romance was strictly forbidden. Again, all that was until Jeonghan made his way into your office one fine day, to interview for the position of your secretary.

You still remembered the moment he walked into your room, clutching his file against his chest, looking around with big eyes. Your childhood nanny turned caretaker introduced him, stating he was a smart guy who just finished his MBA and had a lot of potential. Apparently, a few months ago, he was recruited on the street and used to work as a part time model in your company – you couldn’t seem to recollect his face as he went on explaining how he wanted to do a more serious job now. Surely you would have known if the literal man of your dreams worked in the same space as you right? But then again, before your father died and you took over, you used to work in the writing column of this fashion magazine, the photography side of things was never in your radar. Yoon Jeonghan was never in your radar.

Making him your secretary was quite an easy decision – he had the qualifications, he already knew the company in and out and very soon, he knew you just the same too. 

Well, almost. 

He knew you took your coffee with foam art but he didn’t know it was because you liked that concentrated look on his face when he making it. He knew you always wore gloves as a fashion statement, but didn't know it was also to stop yourself from digging your nails into your skin every time you were stressed. He knew your caretaker and how important she was to you, but he didn’t know she was the closest thing you had to a mother, one whose presence you craved since you were a child. He knew inheriting this company had always been your dream but he didn’t know it was you who mixed the sleeping pills in your father’s milk that led to his overdose. 

Albeit you only added enough to make sure he wouldn’t make it to the extremely important meeting the next day. The idea was that you would have gotten the chance to replace him as CEO temporarily and show the board your talent, but apparently your father was weak enough to die from that miniscule amount, allowing you to permanently take over his role. But this wasn’t your fault, was it? So there was nothing for Jeonghan to know about it. 

Though there were a few things that he had discovered over time that a part of you wished he hadn’t - your anger, your impulsiveness, your stubbornness, your possessiveness…. He didn't know how bad it could get, but Jeonghan knew enough. That’s why the first thing he did when he pulled away from your grip was lead you to the private washroom in your cabin and fuck you mindless, thrusting into you hard and fast, letting your mark his neck carelessly.

Letting you mark him as yours.

“Fuck, baby.” He sighed, pulling you closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your pencil skirt went further up your torso as your boobs spilled out of your bra thanks to his sheer force as he showed no signs of slowing down. The granite of the sink counter felt unbearably cold against your bare ass but you didn’t care. Not when this position allowed him to ram into you while you ran your glove clad fingers in his hair, moaning right into his ear, and coaxing him further.

“Cum in me Hannie.” You purred, fingers digging into his arm. “Don't you want to fuck it back into me after work? I know how much you love your own sloppy seconds.”

“Don’t.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming harsher just at the thought of it. “We have an investor meeting after work today and I need to go pick up my niece after that. We can’t, baby.”

You rolled your eyes before pulling him into a heated kiss. This was what you loved and hated about this man. From day one, he was incredibly efficient, always so aware of your schedules, of which client calls to avoid, which pen to carry to sign official documents - he was the perfect secretary, always keeping an eye on everything. He was also a perfectly good man, always donning the sweetest smile, trying to be helpful, staying alert about your smallest needs and wants. As much as you loved how he looked after you, it was seeing him being nice to everyone else that bothered you. 

Why did he have to lean over the desk of the girl clearly pretending to be stupid when he clarified her doubts? Why did he always agree to the dinners and the after work parties that various women in the company invited him to? Why did the lady in the canteen always bat her eyes at him and give him extra sandwiches? And was it your fault that one fine day nearly all these women decided to mass resign from your company? Yeah maybe you glared at them a bit too much and maybe you increased their workload to an unbearable amount but they chose to resign, that wasn’t on you right? Honestly, you should have stopped employing women after that - at least then you wouldn’t have hired her and seen her getting all handsy with your man.

“Stop thinking about her.” 

Pulling you off the counter Jeonghan spun you around, letting you look at your fucked out face in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged at the edges and the remnants of his cum were still at the corner of your lips from when you let him fuck your mouth minutes ago. “Eyes and mind on me when I’m fucking you, sweetheart.” He grabbed your face with his hand, squeezing it roughly. “The only thought that should be in your pretty little head is me, so stop thinking about her.”

And this was yet another reason you loved this man. He knew you like the back of his hand. He could tell from the slightest change in your expression what exactly you were thinking. He could tell from the furrow of your eyebrow what exactly you needed. He could tell when you wanted to be handled softly, and gently made love to and when you needed to just be fucked like a ragdoll. Right now, you just needed him to fuck the inappropriate thoughts out of your head and that’s exactly what he was doing, snapping his hips against yours with a relentless pace. Jeonghan might be someone who looked sweet and soft and fragile but man was he capable of fucking like a beast. No wonder you fell in love with him.

The moment you realised you had fallen head over heels for him, the first thing you did was simply tell him. Though it took him a fleeting moment, he confessed that he had been in love with you for the longest time now. Brfore you could properly even kiss him, he pushed you against the office window 78 floors high and fucked you right against it, ignoring the hundreds of staff on the other side of the glass cabin who didn’t know what to do but immediately evacuate from the floor. 

Since then, you had gotten the glass tinted and the two of you had christened almost every piece of furniture in your cabin in a similar fashion. You had Jeonghan’s things moved into your office from his cubicle and at any point you were not working, there was only one thing you were doing. Rather, one man you were doing. People would walk in on you more often than you liked to admit but stopping wasn’t an option and shame really wasn't a part of your character profile anymore. Only one thing mattered, then, now and always - Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan. 

“Oh god I’m close fuck fuck fu…” You felt your mouth hang as the feeling began to tighten in you, your legs weakening. With a hand on your back, Jeonghan pushed you onto the marble of the counter, your breasts and cheek pressed onto it, his other hand on your neck, pinning you in place

“Me too baby.” He groaned, fucking himself in you harder, momentarily forgetting how tight his grip around your neck was. The oxygen to your brain being cut off only made you feel more insane, mumbling meaningless words as you felt yourself being split open by the man you love. It was only when he saw your eyes nearly roll back that he loosened his hold, pressing his fingers into the soft skin on your hips, thrusting faster and deeper, grazing that spot again and again until you finally snapped. With a loud unintelligible moan, your walls fluttered around him, clamping his length and coating it with slick in a way that immediately sent him over the edge as he came, spilling into you in spurts. With a few more thrusts he continued to ride out his high like he didn't want to leave your warmth but when you winced at the overstimulation, he grimaced and finally pulled out.

As the two of you caught your breaths, slowly straightening yourself, you turned, finding yourself towered by him. Sighing, he caught your lips with his in a sweet kiss, in complete contrast to the way he slipped his fingers into your hole, pushing his cum further into you, for later. When the two of you finally parted, he stepped back, pulling up and buttoning his pants with a small smirk on his face. You smiled back, adjusting the panties he wasn’t even bothered to remove in his urgency, as you rang for your caretaker. Like always she would help you with your clothes, hair, makeup and make you look presentable but what was the point? Anyways, in a few hour’s time, everyone would get off work and you’d have to attend that one last meeting of the day but since it was just an audio call, you could still ride Jeonghan on your office chair while you were at it. You knew how much he loved the sight of his dick covered in his own cum pumping in and out of you so another round today was a given.

Just as Jeonghan finished dressing himself, your caretaker walked in with a fresh set of clothes, trying not to meet either of your eyes as always. Normally, Jeonghan didn’t hang around till you were made decent to the public eye, he let you have your space to dress but today it was like he could tell you wanted him around. Though his neck was littered with the red of bruises and your lipstick, and he smelled like he was doused in the sweet scent of you, the image of that woman’s hand on him kept flashing in your mind. You knew he could tell you had slipped back into those thoughts as he sighed, shaking his head. 

Putting his arm out he stopped the older woman, much to your surprise. “Let me.” 

And she did, handing your clothes to him before bowing deeply and excusing herself from there. 

Your eyes followed Jeonghan as he slowly undressed you of your wrinkled clothes, sweetly kissing you anywhere and everywhere he could. You loved feeling his mouth on you like this and you know he loved it too, you could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. Except when he slipped your gloves off; then his expression shifted to one of pained worry.

“What happened?” He looked at you confused. “Y/n what-“

“I’m fine.” You brushed him off, but his grip on your wrist was tight. “I wasn’t careful when I used the letter opener so it just….”

“Baby.” If he could tell you were lying, you didn’t know. He just kissed your palm softly, looking at you like he was hurting more than you were. 

This man loved you. He loved you so much. He loved you just the way you were, he always made sure to let you know just how much he cared, yet you couldn’t help but continue to obsess over that memory. 

Shaking your head, you kissed him back, long and hard. 

You had to get it out of your mind. You had to do whatever it took to get it out of your mind.

This entire weekend you didn’t get to see Jeonghan thanks to his niece’s birthday. 

As much as you shouldn’t be jealous of a little girl for getting so much of your boyfriend’s attention, you were. You didn’t like anyone getting between you and Jeonghan but knowing how much he loved her, you were willing to let it slide. You still wanted to see him first thing Monday morning so you made sure to reach work as early as you could and were waiting by the door for him. 

Instead, to your surprise and disappointment, you were met with the familiar face of just the woman you didn’t want to see as she limped in, bandages scattered all over her body, her arm in a cast, hanging in a sling around her neck. 

Running your eyes over it, a small triumphant smile creeped on your face – now let her try and touch your man.

As though on cue, Jeonghan walked in, his eyes flickering between both the women before him. Reaching for your hand he pulled out the white glove you had donned today, running his finger along the fading wound. Seeing that it was much better, he interlaced his fingers with yours, and led you away to your cabin, without sparing his colleague a second look. You though, turned around just to catch sight of her dejected face. 

As Jeonghan prepared your morning coffee, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking at the way he meticulously pressed the coffee powder. There was no fear or possessiveness in this hug, you were just happy. Jeonghan made you happy. He always made sure you were happy. 

Since the day he began working in this company, your smile was what he craved for the most. No, not since he began working as your secretary - since he was recruited as a model, when he first laid his eyes on you. 

It was during a press conference, announcing you had joined your father's company now that you had graduated from business school. You looked so prim and proper, like a sweet little girl from a high society, a perfect heiress with your glove clad hands clasped, resting on your lap modestly. Something about you was just so…. innocent, so easy to corrupt. It made Jeonghan fear for you - The corporate world was harsh and cutthroat. Sweet little things like you didn't belong here. 

But over time Jeonghan learnt you weren't the little innocent girl you seemed like after all. He saw how ambitious you were, willing to even put down others to climb the ladder, willing to do anything. He saw your anger and the things it made you do. He saw your tantrums when you didn't get what you wanted. He saw everything because Jeonghan was always watching. Always. 

He was watching you at work, he was watching you make your way home, he was watching what you did in your little penthouse, strutting around in your pretty night dresses…. Jeonghan was always watching. That's how he knew that you liked men with longer hair, and that you preferred them blonde and tall and lean. That's how he made sure to groom himself, to become the man of your dreams. Because he knew exactly what your dreams were - afterall, he always watched you sleep too. 

That's also how he knew the number of sleeping pills you added in your father's milk weren't right. Yes you were ambitious and vile but you were short sighted. What you needed wasn't an opportunity to prove yourself but a permanent position to lead the company. That was your dream after all and Jeonghan would do whatever it took to make them come true. That's why he slipped in more pills into the glass - silly little you could surely not have thought so far.

The thing that Jeonghan didn't take into consideration though, was how inaccessible you would be to him once you became CEO. He didn’t get to see you as often and even if he did, you always had company. You were constantly monitored, always followed by security, always protected. He needed other ways of getting close to you, other ways he could keep an eye on you. 

The first step was to get your previous secretary to resign. Honestly, that was probably the hardest step along the way - no matter what Jeonghan did, and mind you, he did everything possible, she did not step down from her position. So he did what he had to make sure she never returned, to make sure they didn't ever find her.

Although he might have been a little less successful on that front - from what he heard on the news yesterday, it turned out that after all this while, they finally had found her. He just hoped that the cops didn't dig around there any further - it wasn't like anything could trace back to him, he made sure of that, but he didn't know if they could digest everything they would find in his favorite dumping spot. Afterall, he had to make all those who truly knew him disappear - he couldn't take the risk of anyone letting you know what he was capable of. Of how far he was willing to go for you.

Your caretaker knew. She was the only one who knew but Jeonghan needed her. He needed someone you trusted to recommend him to you so he dealt with her in a way that was far easier - he just promised her he would pick up her granddaughter everyday after working hours and make sure she reached home safely as long as she kept her mouth shut and introduced him to you. The old lady was a sensible one - she did what she was told. Perhaps she knew that if she didn't, no one would question if her foot were to accidentally slip and send her plunging down 78 stories. No one would care. 

But if anything similar were to happen to the colleague who was trying to make a move on him yesterday, Jeonghan knew you would be suspected. He couldn't have that happen, he couldn't have anything happen to you. 

That's why he followed the woman around over the weekend, making note of where she went and what she did, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. She told all the concerned employees asking her that she was too drunk and so she didn't realise she had walked into incoming traffic and Jeonghan didn’t see the need to correct her - she didn't walk on her own will, she was shoved. 

But then again, all that happened was she broke an arm and a few ribs, and dislocated her shoulder, it was hardly anything. At least when compared to the wound on your hand because of her. All that mattered was that the sight of her finally seemed to have put a smile on your face, knowing that he wouldn't have those hands on him again. That was enough for him, your happiness was enough for him. For that he would do anything. 

“Thank you for all that you do for me Han.” You muttered against his skin breathing in the combined scent of him and the coffee as he smiled to himself. But of course.  

Topping off your drink with a tiny foam heart, he turned to hand it to you, receiving your sweet smile in return. It made him scoff inwardly. Look at you, pretending to be all innocent. 

Like you too weren’t obsessively stalking her over the weekend.

Like it wasn’t your car that caused the accident that night. 

Like you didn’t pay off the cops to let you go while your employee laid bleeding and unconscious on the road. 

You always tried to hide so much behind that saccharine smile, but how could you? How could you when he was always watching? How could you when he would do anything to be by your side? How could you when he loved you more than anything Y/n? 

More than anything and longer than always. 

A/n - This is the first time I've dabbled in a genre like this so I'm nervous - kind comments and just thoughts in general are much appreciated! You can also check out Seungcheol's and Joshua's :)

[peachesvanilla]

Synopsis: Seungchoel just wants to see his crush once more, or maybe dare to initiate a conversation. Genre: fluff

Seungcheol enters the bookstore, the smell of books and the musty cupboards surrounds him. His eyes rove around the store hoping to see her again. He pulls the scarf from his neck, folding it around his arm as he saunters into the long rows of bookshelves. 

The snow is heavy outside, driving to his hometown has been no short of adventure especially when the sun was already setting down. The roads were slippery and busy due to being a new year’s eve, he had to drive slowly. He did think of backing off but he couldn’t easily get a long holiday. And the thoughts of her are plaguing him, yearning to look at her once more. If he is lucky, maybe talk with her. 

His fingers slide across the spines of the books, his eyes looking through the gaps of the shelves. If the information given by his friend turns out to be false, he will nail his friend’s head into the wall. 

“Are you looking for anything?” Her soft voice asks from behind. 

Seungcheol’s heart pitter patters in his chest. She is here. He turns around slowly, her flowery scent overwhelming his senses. She is standing a foot away from him, his attention immediately drawn to the fact she is tinier compared to the first time he saw her. 

Her gaze flicks up from his neck to his eyes. She blinks rapidly, her lips parting slightly. Seongcheol runs his hand through his icy cold hair, running a hundred simulations in his mind on what to answer and how the situation will pan out based upon his answers. 

“I’m,” he scratches his eyebrow, “looking for,” his eyes fleeting momentarily to the mystery books next to him. He grimaces, “actually I’m new to books. I would be happy to receive some recommendations.” 

Her entire being beams up at his words. “Of course. Which genre do you prefer to read? Mystery? Thriller?” Her fingers are already in a hurry going over the spines of mystery section books. 

“Uhm,” he hesitates, leaning on the book shelf, “I don’t necessarily enjoy mystery or suspense thriller movies. I’m not sure I’ll enjoy the books.” 

Her fingers freezes, her ears turning red. “I’m so sorry!” She bows her head slightly, “I just assumed everything, not giving you space to talk.” Her tinted cheeks make him smile, popping out his dimple. 

He runs his hand through his hair, ducking down his head to hide the grin. Why is she so cute? Pulling his lips back, he tries to control his smile. “That’s fine.” He waves it off, his eyes jumping from poster to poster hanging on the walls. “I’m the one who is,” he searches for a word that categorises him and also makes him look not so sappy, “slightly different. As I usually prefer to watch romance movies.” 

“Oh.” 

Seungcheol just wants to walk out from the store without looking back and drive far away. Preferably off the earth. Dramatic. “I know,” he looks down at his boots, still avoiding looking at her, “it’s just,” his hands start waving in the air trying to explain his stance on their own, “I don’t..” 

His ears twitch listening to her laugh, one of her hands holding the book shelf and another her stomach. If he can squint he can see tears in her eyes. He pokes his tongue in his cheek, holding the bookshelf inches away from her hand, leaning in, “what kind of service is this? Laughing at a customer?” 

She covers her mouth, blinking her eyes several times. “I’m..” she inhales deeply, catching her breath, “sorry.” Her eyes shining like a sky filled with stars, he swears he saw a twinkle. She leans in a little, her face a few inches away from his, and his eyes greedily takes in every feature of hers. Freckles sprinkled all over her right cheek. The slight curve of her mouth, and the subtle hints of her perfume. 

She whispers, “I love romance too. I’m glad you came in,” she smiles at him, signaling him to follow her. She swivels around disappearing into the next aisle. 

Seungcheol groans into his outstretched arm. Why is she so adorable? If only he can pocket her and carry around. He slides his palm across his face, following her to the next aisle. 

“…men always trash romance.” She looks over her shoulder making sure he is listening. “That’s why I assumed you were looking for suspense thrillers.” 

He nods. “What do you read?” 

He notices the subtle raise of her shoulders and the deep breath. “I read everything, except suspense thrillers.” She looks away sheepishly, her fingers trailing over the books under the romance section. “Memoirs, self help, comfort, and even cookbooks.” 

“Ah.” Seungcheol leans on the books, “when you said you could recommend a suspense thriller..?” He quirks his eyebrow. 

“I don’t read it,” she stands on her tiptoes, pulling out a book off the top shelf. “But I do look into trend, recommendations from trusted sources.” She plucks out another book from the middle, and another from the bottom row. “Here you go.” 

Seungcheol accepts the books from her, flipping it over and scanning through the summaries. He chews on his bottom lip, contemplating over which one to choose. He gives up, jutting his lower lip, “can you decide for me please.” 

Her eyes flicker to his lips, and then to his eyes. “Uhm..” she clutches her hands, “if I have to choose,” she stares at the three books in his hands, “I would go for this one.” She taps on the middle book. “I just couldn’t get over the couple for a few days after completing the book.” 

Seungcheol���s heart skips a beat when she looks in his eyes straight, unwavering. He nods in reply, “then it’s decided.” 

She beams at him, guiding him to the counter. He looks at the empty store while she punches on the machine. “The store is empty.” He remarks. 

“Ah,” she smiles, “the closing hour was at 6:00 pm due to the new year.” 

He checks the time on his phone, 7:03 pm. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, “I’m so sorry! The door was open and I thought..”

“No.. no..” she cuts in, “it’s my fault I should have hung the board but no one visited since afternoon and I didn’t think anyone would. Especially when the event starts at 7:00 pm.” 

 “Event?” He tilts his head to the side, lost in thought. He doesn’t remember his friend mentioning any event. 

“New year countdown.” She frowns at him, “are you not from here?” 

“I’m just visiting. This is my hometown but I live in Seoul.” 

“Ah.” She nods in understanding. “That’s what I thought. The town heads have been advertising like crazy for the past few days that it’s hard to miss the posters and flyers around the town.” She dips her head, checking the computer, “it’s 17.7.” 

Seungcheol taps the card, “are you planning on attending this event?” 

She curls her hair behind her ear, printing his bill. “I don’t have anything to do except roll up in my comforter and watch Netflix. So why not just go and watch the firecrackers.” She shrugs. 

He nods, tapping his fingers on the wooden counter. The guilt gnaws at his chest, he is the reason she stayed back and she isn’t even annoyed at him. 

“Thank you.” She hands him the cover, turning off her system. “Happy new year!”

He picks up the cover, and just braves up, “as an apology can I take you to the event? I can give you the ride and,” he notices the crease between her eyebrows, “I will give you all my details and you can send it to your family just as a precaution. I don’t bite or kill anyone.” 

“That’s too much,” she smiles tentatively, “trust me I’m really fine. I need to close the store and walk a mile.” 

“A mile?!” 

“Or two.” She adds hesitantly. 

“It's freezing! Please,” he leans in, “consider this as my gratitude for not judging and suggesting a romance book.” He still sees the hesitation in her, his pout comes out involuntarily, “please.” 

Her eyes flick to his lips, she parts her lips and closes it back a few times. “I.. am not..” she stops her words, noticing he is halfway to sulking. “Alright.” She sighs, pressing her nose in distress. 

He grins widely, his phone out in seconds and already sharing his information to her. She shakes her head in disbelief, noting it down on her phone. After turning off the lights, and cross checking the doors they leave for the event under her direction. 

“What are your plans for tonight?” She asks as they slowly approach the parking garage. 

He shrugs. “Probably go home and read the book?” Driving his car into the parking slot after roaming around the lot for an empty space. He didn’t expect this event to be this crowded. 

“Oh.” She replies. “If.. you don’t mind..,” Seungcheol looks at her, “you can join me. We can watch the fireworks and the food from a few stalls will blow your mind.” 

He should take up on this offer. If not now then when will he be able to get this opportunity again? Hesitation creeps up in his mind, the event probably has hundreds of people and he feels suffocated in large groups. 

She is watching him with hopeful puppy eyes. Her hands intertwined and resting on her lap. God, how can he say no to her? Maybe… maybe he can handle the crowd. One can try. 

“I.. can..,” he runs his hand through his hair ruffling it. Her shoulders perk up again. “Yeah, I definitely can.” He turns off the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt. She follows the pursuit and the two are strolling towards the entrance of the event. 

“What’s your name?” She scratches her cheek, squeamishly. “It’s just that I even have your number and address but not your name.” 

Seungcheol laughs. “Seungcheol.” He moves closer to her noticing people crowding in. There isn’t much space for people to walk freely unless you crash into someone’s back or arms. He looks over his shoulder noticing kids walking closer to them. 

He snaps his head to her, listening to his name in her melodic calm tone. “Seung,” she pauses, “Cheol. Seungcheol.” His heart skips a beat, he leans in hoping to catch her say his name once more. “Seungcheol.” Her whispers, drives him insane. 

She faces him, muttering her name in his ear as the crowd gets louder and rowdier. His arm possessively hover on her shoulder, not touching. His lips curl up watching her bounce on her feet before rushing to a food stall. He follows her close behind, her back crashing into his front whenever she abruptly stops as people cut in her way.  

As they near the stall, she holds her hand behind her, Seungcheol grabs hesitantly as she drags him (or tries to as he lets her) to the line. She turns around her face no short of the bright sun. “You have to try this!” She is on her tiptoes again, shouting over the loud music playing on the stage nearby. “You’ll love it. The best you can find in the whole country.” 

He leans in to catch her words. She grabs onto his shoulder, “this is the reason I want to come in.” 

Seungcheol really wants to listen to her words but the hand on his shoulder, her grip on him malfunctions his brain’s wiring. He keeps nodding as her words go over his head and her hand slides down his jacket. 

The line moves forward, she slips her hand off him excited that they are only two customers away. There’s that hop again. Seungcheol turns away his hand sliding down his face, his insides screaming. He can’t do this anymore. She is fucking cute. 

She quickly orders the food as soon as she greets the owner. He is surprised that the owner recognises her and also gives extra food. He searches for an empty spot to sit but couldn’t. 

She is also looking around, shuffling the plastic plate from one hand to another. He swiftly grabs the plate from her, leading her to the less crowded corner. She leans on the wall, her entire attention on the food in his hands. Cheekiness creeps inside him as he moves the plate to left watching her face turn to left and he moves it to the right chuckling at her parted lips and hungry stare. 

She shoves his chest, he doesn’t even budge an inch. She grabs a fork, picking up a small piece blowing it on it. Her eyes flit to his watching one’s, she extends the fork to him. He crouches down accepting the food. He hums in agreement, the flavours burst out on his tongue. 

She quickly eats the hot food, watching the crowd wandering around. She talks about the specialities the event is offering and asks if he is interested in any. They continue to chat and eat as the time passes by quickly. 

Dumping the empty plates in the dustbin Seungcheol jogs back to her. “So should we try some games?”

They wait in line for a shooting game, chatting about anything and everything. “I don’t know if I mentioned this already but I’m planning to visit Seoul soon.” She informs him. 

“Oh.” He perks up at her words. “That’s nice. Maybe I can take you to my favourite food stalls.” 

She scrunches her nose, “I don’t know if I’ll have time. I'm the maid of honour for my friend’s wedding. I am not sure if she allows me out of her sight during the bridal party.” 

“Ah,” he nods, moving up the line for their turn. He picks up a gun, looking over the targets. “That’s disappointing. Was hoping to meet you again.” He mutters more to himself. 

She nods. “I know right.” She shoots the first balloon, and next another blue one. 

“Woah.” He exclaims, his lips forming an ‘o’. “You are good at this.” 

She giggles, popping an entire row of balloons. The owner gives them a stinky eye, visibly stressed. Seungcheol hears kids screaming in delight at her skills. And she misses all of her shots. He quirks his eyebrow at her. She just shrugs, stepping aside for him to shoot his shot.

He knows he is good at this game and single handedly can pop all the balloons. He misses his shots, making a dramatic play on how pissed he is to miss an easy shot. She gives him a side eye, shaking her head with a smile. He grins lopsidedly, setting his gun down. He mimics her shrug and they leave accepting a teddy bear as a prize. 

“So you are horrible at games.” She chimes, hugging the teddy bear. 

He is offended, “there were kids. I need to let them have their fun.” He checks the time, in 30 minutes the clock will strike midnight. 

“Mmhmm.” She hums, nuzzling her cheek on the plushie gazing at him. “I appreciate it.” 

Here his heart goes again. He just wants to scream into the void. He folds his arms across his chest or else he isn’t sure what they will do on their own. He exhales through his mouth stabilising his mind and heart. “We only have 20 minutes until the new year.” 

“Follow me. I know a place.”

“You know this is an ideal murderer's words, right?” He tilts his head, following her. 

She huffs. “Even if I wanna murder you, you can take me out with just one swing of your arm.” She points at his biceps. He swears he saw her eyes scan his entire body. 

He rolls his eyes. “Then you wouldn’t be doing anything funny to me.” 

She shoves him, he just nudges her in return. She stumbles sideways, her mouth hanging open. “See!” 

He laughs, grabbing her wrist pulling her back to his side. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“Seungcheol.” She shakes her head in mock disappointment. “Is this how you treat girls?” 

“Should I princess carry you instead?” 

His smile widens seeing her blush deepen on her cheeks. “Let’s just go.” 

They settle on a rock in a secluded area. Seungcheol moves in closer, pressing his body to her, seeing her shiver in the cold. 

“What are your resolutions for next year?” He asks. 

“Get a boyfriend.” She slips and probably realises a little late. She steals a glance at him and goes back to staring at the sky. “uhm, you know it gets pretty lonely in the bookstore.” Her hands start waving around in the air explaining herself. “And I don’t mean I’m not happy by myself, I am. It’s just that.” She groans. 

“My resolution is also to get a girlfriend.” Seungcheol offers. “I know what you are saying.” 

Silence ensues. No one squeaks a letter. What did he do? Did he really imply wanting her to be his girlfriend? Wait a minute, did she imply wanting him to be her boyfriend? God, it’s driving him nuts. 

The firecrackers startle them both. They face each other at the same time. 

“Happy new year!” He wishes her.

She extends her arm unsurely. He mirrors her, pulling her in a hug. She mumbles in his ear, “happy new year, Seungcheol.” 

His heart just dives in, crashing. He doesn’t want this to end. He can’t even crank up any ideas to meet her again. He holds her little tighter. She chuckles, resting her chin on his broad shoulder.

If only he can make her his girlfriend.  

[stxrrywoo]

SUICIDE MISSION ── k.ys

synopsis ; during the apocalypse, you end up meeting yeosang, the only known survivor of a zombie bite, and also the man you are tasked with escorting to the capital. it was going to be a rough journey, and you weren't even sure either of you would make it out alive, much less unscathed. so you have to work together in order to overcome hardships and keep each other safe until you make it to your destination. however, when the crucial time comes, will everything still go as planned?

pairing(s) ; yeosang x f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 29.9k (whoops) ☆ ── genre ; strangers to lovers, zombie apocalypse!au, half zombie!yeosang, adventure, angst, smut, fluff, thriller, action(idk maybe) ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, violence, use of guns and weapons, blood, gore, zombies (ofc), metions of tourture, death, murder, some mentions of past traumas, betrayal, mentions(?) of sa, manipulation, kissing, biting (in a nonsexual light), multiple unprotected sex scences, petnames (love, sweetheart, pretty...), marking, fighting, drugging, kidnapping, near-death experiences, teasing, body worship, slight manhandling, outside sex, cumming on stomach, begging, rough sex, dom!yeosang x sub!reader, clit play, yeo covers readers mouth during sex, praise, slight overstimulation, slight dacryphilia, breast play, creampie, lmk if I missed anything!! ☆ ── also starring ; choi seungcheol as the guard that somehow always gets tasked with looking over you, lee juyeon as your old classmate that is conspiring with your mayor, jacob bae as another old classmate that helps you escape the compound when things get out of hand, han jisung as the lone survivor that you meet along the way, choi san and jung wooyoung as yeosang's old campmates who you happen to run into during your journey, park seonghwa as the capital doctor who looks nice on the outside, but hides secrets behind his smile. ☆ ── notes ; THIS IS FINALLY FINISHED OMFG!!! this has been in my wips for over six months, and it's also the first that I've gotten done, so I feel a little bewildered LMAOO. I had a lot of fun with this fic, from finding that picture on Pinterest to writing the outline, then to finally getting it written out. it's a bittersweet feeling, but I hope that you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

You lay on the small pile of blankets the guards had given you, staring blankly up at the off-white, dust-covered ceiling. The sun was shining brightly through the window on the opposite side of the room, the warm rays only made you groan as you opened your eyes once more after dozing off. Throwing your arm over your face, you blocked out the harsh beams, wondering how much longer they were going to keep you cooped up in this tiny room.

As if the universe had heard your thoughts, there was a sharp knock at the door, causing you to sit up rather quickly. Another groan fell from your lips as the palm of your hand pressed against the side of your head, trying to ease the dizziness.

“Get up. The mayor wants to see you.” The guard's voice was gruff as he walked over, nudging your foot when you hadn’t moved.

Glaring up at him, you planted your hands on the ground before hoisting yourself to your feet, shaking off the dizziness. The guard, Choi Seungcheol, whom you had met on plenty of occasions, just looked at you with an indifferent gaze and pointed to the door.

“What? Did he finally decide to kick me out?” You asked, a slight undertone of bitterness in your voice.

“With your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised.” He then grabbed your arm, shoving you towards the door, “Now go.”

“Going, going, jeez.” You grumbled, rubbing the spot he had grabbed you before making your way out of the room and down the hall. The whole compound was lively as you walked down the street, kids playing with one another, mothers talking while carrying their weekly rations back to their houses. Not a single soul paid you any mind whatsoever. It was almost as if the rest of the world wasn’t going to straight shit outside out these walls.

“Pick it up, l/n,” Seungcheol grunted, pushing on your back, causing you to stumble forward, and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it wouldn’t hurt you to ask nicely.” You shook your head, not even bothering to look back at him, already knowing that he was wearing that same, annoying, indifferent expression.

“Yeah, you lost ‘nice’ after you stabbed me.” He stated, causing you to grimace slightly at the memory. It was maybe five or six months ago that you had been caught outside of the walls once again, and Seungcheol had found you. However, instead of going easily, you waited for the right moment before taking the small pocket knife you had and stabbing his arm, just enough for him to let go. You didn’t make it very far, though; he inevitably caught you and dragged you back to the compound.

“Whoops…” You let out a short nervous laugh before turning down another street that led to the mayor’s house. Of course it wasn’t hard to miss, he had taken the biggest damn house in the entire compound for himself.

Once you were inside the house, you couldn’t help but feel a sudden unease settle in the pit of your stomach. Something in the back of your head is telling you that something was right and to get out as soon as possible. Then a sense of dread washed over you as a few of the house workers looked over at you before whispering to one another, as if you were walking to death row.

Swallowing thickly, you tear your gaze away from them as you walk up the steps and down the hall to the mayor’s office. Seungcheol knocked on the door before opening it once he heard the loud ‘come in’ from the other side of the door. 

“Ah, so nice of you to join us, y/n,” The mayor stood from his desk with a borderline sinister smile on his lips.

Seungcheol shoved you further into the room, causing you to stumble forward a bit. Catching your balance, you stood straight with a sigh, fixing your shirt before looking over at the older man.

“Now I’m sure you can figure out why I’ve called you here.” He rounded his desk, leaning against the front of the old mahogany wood. 

You just gave him a deadpan expression; “You’ve finally decided to kick me out?” The almost hopeful tone in your voice caused him to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Now y/n you know I’m not one to kick anyone out,”

“Yeah, because you’d rather kill people.” You grumble quietly, causing the old man to lean forward, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked, a challenging tone in his voice that sent a chill down your spine, and you quickly shook your head, saying it was nothing, “Hmm… I’ve decided to give you another chance to redeem yourself, and it's quite simple, really.”

Your eyebrow cocked at his words, you knew deep down that this man would take any chance he could possibly get to finally get rid of you. Yet he’s never had any real reason to do so without being questioned by the people of the community, so what was he planning this time ‘round?

“You see, we've been given a task by the government.” He started, and your head perked up, “There’s been a rather interesting individual that was found outside of our gates a while back.” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, not understanding where he was going until the door to the office opened once more.

Spinning around, you saw two guards walking in, dragging someone with them. He looked unconscious as they pulled him further into the room before sitting him in a chair. They then cuffed him to the chair before bowing to the mayor and walking back out of the room.

“Your job is to lead this… thing,” He motioned over to the almost lifeless male, and you looked over, “to the capital.” 

Your head snapped back in the mayor’s direction, “The capital? That’s at least a six-month journey!” You exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, Miss l/n, you’ll be very prepared.” He smiled at you, but something about his tone made your stomach turn.

Your eyes then went back to the amber-haired male, seeing that he was still motionless, almost as if he wasn’t breathing at all. Taking a step forward, you noticed a wound that was peeking out of the collar of his shirt, still covered in blood and pus. Gritting your teeth you reached out, poking his shoulder gently before glancing over at the mayor.

“Is he even alive?” You asked, thoughts running through your head. Was he really about to make you lug a dead body all the way to the capital? Does he not realize how rotted that thing would be, not even halfway there?

Glancing back over your shoulder, your heart nearly stopped as you jumped away from the man; his eyes were open, and he was looking directly at you. Your heart started beating rapidly under your ribs as you stared at him. His eyes were brown but had an almost milky film over them, the exact look that you’ve seen on the undead that lurk outside the walls. Even his skin was the same pale complexion, but what really caught your eye was the wound on his collarbone.

A bite mark.

With wide eyes, you looked over at the mayor like he was crazy, “he’s been bitten, why the hell do you have him here?!” 

“Yes, he’s been bitten, but he hasn’t fully turned.” The mayor explained before walking over to the male, who just glared at him, but his expression twisted into one of pain when the older man grabbed his hair, yanking his head back.

You almost felt bad at how harsh the man was and took a step forward, but the clicking of a gun kept you in place. 

“He only has the look of one of those undead freaks, but he still has complete willpower over himself.” He tugged his hair again, eliciting a low growl, “That’s why the government wants him; maybe they can develop a cure.”

Your mouth suddenly went dry as you finally realized why the mayor had picked you out of everyone to do this job. This wasn’t something as simple as a delivery mission where you could get in and get out. No. This mission could mean life or death for you, where one wrong move could cost you your life. In simple terms.

It was a suicide mission.

“What’s in it for me?” Your voice shook slightly as you thought of all of the possible things that could go wrong.

The mayor chuckled darkly, shoving the male’s head to the side and wiping his hand off on a rag that was sitting on his desk. You felt your nerves spike as he stalked towards you, an unreadable gleam in his eyes. Once he was close enough, he laid his hand on your shoulder before bending down slightly to look you in the eyes.

“Your freedom.” His voice was dark, and the sinister smirk on his lips sent a chill down your spine. “Plus,” he released his hold and stepped back, “there's a five million dollar reward for whoever successfully brings him in.”

Your breath hitched, you would be more than well off with that amount of money. Not only that, but he was offering you your freedom. It’s not like you really had much left in the prison of a compound anyway, so what’s really the worst that could happen?

Swallowing thickly, you nod your head, “okay…” Your voice trembled as you glanced over at the amber-haired male once more, finding him staring directly at you. Sparks shot all throughout your body as you held his gaze, a feeling you couldn’t quite describe. Licking your chapped lips, you tear your eyes away from him and look back at the mayor, who had taken his seat once more. “When do we leave?”

The mayor chuckled, gathering some paperwork that was on his desk and straightening it before looking up at you, “Tomorrow morning.”

-

You weren’t even given a chance to question the older man any further before Seungcheol was pulling you out of the room and back to the small storage closet you called your room. He shoved you inside the room, standing in the doorway blocking it, not giving you a chance to even think about running off.

“Grab any of the shit you need and let’s go.” He instructed, not giving you a second glance.

Shaking your head, you turned, making a beeline for the corner of the room where all of the blankets had been piled up. Shoving a few out of the way, you grabbed your bag as well as a journal that had fallen out. Quickly, you put it inside the bag before zipping it closed. You then grabbed the locket your mother had given you, fastening it around your neck and standing straight, fingers lingering on the cool metal.

“I’m ready, mister bossy pants.” You walked over to the door, throwing the bag strap over your shoulder.

Seungcheol just gave you a hard look before turning and walking out of the room, leaving you to follow behind him. Walking out into the hall, you noticed another guard waiting by the door. He gave you a once-over before motioning you forward.

The air seemed tense this time around; all of the kids who had once been playing outside were nowhere to be seen, sent inside as the sun was starting to set. The mothers who had been smiling at one another stopped long enough to point at you before whispering with a look of pity covering their features. Something about all of this felt off, like there was more to it than what you had been told, which leaves an uneasy feeling in your gut. 

Your fingers tightened around the straps of your bag as you picked up your pace, trying to get out of the way of prying eyes, but it seemed like everywhere you looked, there were more eyes looking your way. Some were looks of pity, others with an uninterested gleam, while the rest looked… relieved.

Trying to ease your nerves, you inhaled deeply before opening your mouth, “Where are we going?” You asked, looking at the back of Seungcheol’s head.

“You’ll see.”

With a sigh, you quietly followed after him until you noticed that he was leading you to the outer part of the compound where they kept the prisoners. A hard gust of wind swept over you, turning your blood icy, and fear started to claw its way into your brain. The sun was practically set, leaving the world around you in an eerie darkness which only deepened your unease.

You wanted to ask why you were here, but you knew that Seungcheol wouldn’t answer you, so you just kept your mouth shut. He led you into the old building, pulling out a flashlight from his vest and turning it on.

The building was too quiet, almost silent. You could clearly hear the echoes of your footsteps bouncing off the walls; it was almost deafening. You knew that they never kept very many people here, only the ones who did some really fucked up shit and those who were bitten while out on a mission.

Getting to the end of the hall, Seungcheol stops in front of a heavily locked door and pulls out a ring of keys from his pocket. Holding the flashlight in his mouth, he shifts through the keys, then when he finds the one he was looking for, he inserts the key into the lock, but not quite unlocking it yet.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he motions for the guard behind you to step forward and grabs the bag that he was holding out. Grabbing the handle, he holds it out to you, and you look at the object in confusion before looking up to meet his gaze.

“You need to make sure he doesn't look so undead before you leave. I would hate to have you killed before even making it ten feet out of this place.” He told you, his voice holding an edge, and you felt your heart drop.

“Are you leaving me in there with him?” You asked, almost offended by the idea, and Seungcheol only gave you a deadpan expression.

“Mayor’s orders, not mine.” He then pushed the bag into your chest, causing you to grab it before it fell to the ground, before he unlocked the door and shoved it open. Stepping to the side, he gave you a pointed look, and you let out a huff.

Stepping into the room, you took note of the figure that was sitting in the chair across the room, his arms still bound by the handcuffs. He didn’t even move upon hearing you enter the room, making you think that he might be asleep. You then felt a tinge of guilt that he was still cuffed; you knew that it was uncomfortable to sleep like that.

“Here’s the key, it’s up to you whether you wanna uncuff him or not,” Seungcheol told you, tossing the key, which you narrowly caught.

Giving him a sharp glare, you set the bag on the ground, “Are you gonna give me a lantern or do you expect me to just give him a makeover in the dark?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes before looking over at the other guard, telling him to grab the extra lantern from the hall. After a few short moments, he came back with the lantern in hand and gave it to Seungcheol, who inevitably handed it over to you.

“We’ll be here at the first sign of light.” He told you before shutting the door, leaving absolutely no room for discussion.

Letting out yet another huff, you tuck the lantern in the crook of your arm before reaching down to grab the discarded bag. With everything in your arms, you walked over to the table that was just a few feet away from the motionless male and set everything down.

Turning on the lantern, you opened the bag that Seungcheol gave you. Inside were plenty of medical supplies as well as some food and water. You pulled out all of the medical supplies that you were sure you would need before turning to wake the man up. However, a sharp gasp fell from your lips as you jumped when you saw him once again just staring at you, not saying a word.

“Fucking hell! Do you ever make any noise?” You held your hand over your heart, letting out a sigh before stepping closer to him. Shaking your head, you walked over and started to reach towards him, but he pulled away from your reach.

“Don’t touch me.” His voice was hoarse as he glared up at you, his upper lip pulling up just slightly.

“Look, I’m just trying to clean that,” You pointed towards his collarbone where the bite mark still looked to be bleeding. “Because even though you look dead as hell, you’re still breathing, and I’m pretty sure your heart is still beating, so the last thing I need is for that to get infected and you actually turn on me.”

He looked at you skeptically before slowly leaning more towards you but not saying a word. Reaching hesitantly towards him, you tugged at his collar, tearing the fabric from the wound, causing him to hiss, and you pulled your hand away.

“I swear to god you try to bite me I will kick your ass.” You threatened, glaring at him, and he returned your eyes with a glare of his own. You held his gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the table to grab the disinfectant.

You then started to work on cleaning up the bite wound while keeping a keen eye on him, but he didn’t say or do much besides clenching his jaw when you pressed a little too hard when placing the bandage over it.

“There.” You said triumphantly as you moved away, wiping your hands off on your jeans. He just nodded his head before looking over at the window once more, and your lips pulled into a thin line.

With a curt nod, you turn around to put everything back into the bag and zip it back up. Once it was zipped and pushed to the side, you turned around and leaned against the flimsy wood. You took the moment to actually study his features; his cheeks held a slight pink tint, covered in freckles. His amber-colored hair was tousled, but still somehow looked decent, and his ear held a few earrings.

“When did they find you?” The question fell from your lips before you could even comprehend it.

He glanced over at you for a moment before moving his gaze back to the window, “Maybe a week or two ago. I have no clue.”

His response caused your eyebrows to scrunch together in confusion. If they’ve had him in here for that long, why are you just now hearing about it? Not only that, but if he had been here for that long, why had his bite wound looked so fresh? Something about it was just fishy and didn’t sit right with you. Your eyes then trailed down his arms, seeing the scarred over cuts here and there as well as some fresh ones.

“Did they do that to you?” The words fell from your lips before you could even process them, and you quickly bit your tongue, unsure if you had just touched a sensitive topic. However, upon seeing the deadpan expression that crossed the man’s face, you felt as if you had just asked the dumbest question known to mankind. Inhaling deeply, you just curtly nodded your head before telling him to just forget it, and turned back to the table.

The room fell silent as you started cleaning up all of the supplies that had been sprawled across the table. Your mind swirling, something about the man behind you didn’t sit right with you. How did they keep him here without anyone knowing? And what the hell were they doing to him?

“I had just been separated from my group when we ran into a horde, and I got too close to the gates.” His voice almost startled you, but you just listened as your hands slowed. “I told them that I had already been bitten, so I’d just leave, but they didn’t care and grabbed me.” Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he continued to tell you about what they had done to him, but you felt your stomach turn when he told you that they had let him be bitten multiple times to ‘test’ his immunity.

“Fuck.” You cursed lowly as you turned back around to look at him, but his gaze was still stuck on the window in front of him. It’s no wonder that his bite wound still looked fresh; they had just ‘tested’ him again. You knew that the mayor was cruel, and you were stupid to believe that he wouldn’t even remotely be cruel enough to do something so inhumane.

The air around the two of you grew thick with tension, thick enough that you were sure that if you were to take your knife out, you’d be able to cut right through it. Suddenly, you remembered the key that was still sitting in the pocket of your jeans.

Taking a hesitant step forward you weighed the pros and cons of unlocking those handcuffs. On one hand he wouldn’t do anything but give you that same harsh look he has for the last half hour you’ve been in here. Then on the other he’d take the chance to attack you, either eating you like a midnight snack or trying to use you as a bargaining chip. However, he would be in for a world of hurt if he went that route, they didn’t care about whether or not you live. Hell they’d probably be happy to finally have you off of their hands.

Letting out a sigh, you pulled the key out of your pocket and walked around the redhead, your sudden movement causing his head to snap in your direction.

“What are you doing?” His voice was gruff as he tried to pull away, but it was futile; the chair wasn’t gonna go anywhere.

Your eyes swept over the room before landing on a line of pipes along the wall underneath the window. Turning back to him, you bent down and grabbed one of his wrists, his skin cold under your touch. Goosebumps littered his arm as he tried to look back at you, uneasy about not being able to see what you were doing.

“I’m moving you. Who knows how long you’ve been stuck in these cuffs, and I know for a fact that you've got to be uncomfortable.” Your voice held a tinge of sas as you unlocked one of the cuffs before weaving it out of the bars before standing straight.

A part of you half expected him to make a run for it the moment you even remotely took your hands off of him, but he never moved. Once you were back on your feet, you turned back to him only to find him staring at you, an unreadable expression plastered on his face.

Without saying a word, you grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the chair, and thankfully, he didn’t put up a fight. You walked around the chair before stopping by the wall, before telling him to sit.

“Give me your hand.” Crouching down, you held a hand out, waiting for him to do as told, and after a moment of him just staring at you, he held his still-cuffed hand out to you. Grabbing the empty cuff, you hooked it around the pipes, “Sorry, but I still can’t trust that you won’t actually turn and eat me in my sleep.”

You were once again met with silence, and you weren’t sure what bothered you more, that he hadn’t said a word or that cold, dead look in his eyes as he looked at you. Curling your lips into a straight line, you stood back up, dusting your hands off on your jeans. Walking over to the desk once more, you pulled the chair out before sitting down, but as soon as your back touched the cool metal, a shiver ran down your spine. You hadn’t noticed how cold it was in the room before now, or maybe it was because the sun had gone away, taking its warmth with it.

Rolling your shoulders, you opted to try to ignore the low temperature and grabbed the old, haggard book that was in your bag. Flipping to the dog-eared page and picking up where you had left off.

The room was filled with a stilled silence, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed, nor had you noticed the redhead who was staring blankly at the wall on the other side of the room, his nails picking at the skin on the back of his hand.

“Why you?” His voice startled you, but you gathered yourself quickly before looking over at him, confused.

“Huh?”

“Of all the people they could have taken me to the capital, why you?” He asked, eyes flickering over to you as you set the book down in your lap.

You sat there for a moment contemplating what you could tell him, “do you want the honest answer or some bullshit they’d feed you?”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, not entirely sure what you meant, “the honest answer.” His tone was unsure, but you chose to ignore it.

“They’re trying to find a reasonable excuse to get rid of me.” You told him, crossing your legs before leaning back in your chair. 

It’s not like it was a lie; they really were trying to get rid of you, but you weren’t entirely sure what their whole plan was, because you knew they wouldn’t just let you walk away with that reward money. Your eyes then flickered over to him once more, only to find that same borderline irritating, unreadable expression on his face.

“Why haven’t you tried to talk me out of it?” You were curious; any normal person would be trying to find any way they could to be set free, rather than face whatever the hell awaited you at the capital. But he hasn’t, not even once.

“Would you consider it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow once more.

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Exactly.” He stated plainly, averting his gaze elsewhere, “It’s pointless, so why even bother? Plus if they really use me to find a cure for this nightmare of an earth then albeit.”

Nodding softly, you let the room fall into silence once more before you sat the book down on the desk and reached for the lantern, turning the small knob until the room was engulfed in darkness. The only source of light was the crescent moon that illuminated the room enough to see your hand in front of your face.

“We’re gonna have a long day ahead of us, so you should try to get some rest.” You spoke in general as you propped your feet on top of the desk, grabbed your book, and leaned back.

Just then, a sudden thought came to mind, and you glanced over at the redhead, who was leaning back against the wall. However, upon seeing the soft glow of the moon illuminate his outline, most thoughts left your brain. He was attractive; you couldn’t deny that, even with some of those deathly features.

Your heart lurched into your throat when his eyes opened and flickered over to you. The moonlight reflected in his milky eyes, almost making them glow. Swallowing thickly, you averted your gaze, heat blooming across your cheeks, and you were thankful that the room was dark.

“The name’s y/n by the way.” You told him, eyes finding their way back to his figure once more, and you almost let out a breath of relief when you noticed that his eyes were closed.

“Yeosang.” His reply was curt as he turned his body a bit so he wasn’t facing you anymore, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed, but you brushed it off.

“Good talk.” You quipped, leaning back in your chair once more before you opened the book and placed it over your face. The room fell into a still silence for the nth time that night, so it wasn’t long before you dozed off, not even noticing the eyes that were flickering to you every once in a while.

-

The next morning, there was a loud bang on the door that pulled you from your sleep. The book that was once covering your face falls to the ground with a thud as you jump. Letting out a yawn, you pull your legs off the table, sitting up in the chair after your feet hit the ground.

After rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you looked over just as the door swung open, and Seungcheol and his men came into the room, a stern look on the older male’s face. He glanced over at you as you stood from your chair, arms raised above your head.

“Time to go,” His tone was stern, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“What? No good morning?” You teased Seungcheol, which only got you a glare in return before he motioned for the two guards behind him to grab Yeosang. You watched with a grimace as they roughly pulled the male from the ground after undoing the cuffs and shoving him into the chair. Your heart then dropped as they pulled out some kind of mask contraption. “Is that really necessary?” You asked, looking back over at Seungcheol, who looked like he was a second away from blowing a fuse.

He walks towards you with quick strides, causing your heart to leap; you take a step back as he gets closer. Without a word, he grabs your bag off the table before shoving it into your chest, and you barely have any time to grab it before he lets go and grabs your arm. He then proceeds to push you towards the door, causing you to stumble, but you are quick to regain your balance.

“I won’t say it again, let’s go.” Seungcheol’s voice was laced with annoyance, causing all of the words to disappear off your tongue before just muttering an ‘okay’ and making your way towards the door after the other soldiers pulled Yeosang out of the room.

Not a word was spoken as you walked out of the old building, your eyes trailed around the compound, noticing that there were more people than usual out and about. All of their eyes, however, were on you, or more so, the redhead that was being pulled in front of you.

Glancing up, you saw that Yeosang’s head was hanging low, his jaw was tight as he allowed the two soldiers to pull him along. Swallowing thickly, you turned back around, trying to ignore the prying eyes and the dull unease that had settled in the pit of your stomach.

Once you arrived at the gates, Seungcheol stopped everyone before turning towards you and reaching behind him. Your heart skipped a beat as you thought for a moment that he was just about to end you here, but a small breath fell from your lips when he pulled the pistol out, handle facing you. 

Reaching out, you wrapped your fingers around the handle, but Seungcheol didn’t release it, causing you to look up at him, confused, only to find an unreadable expression on his face, which made you even more confused.

“Don’t even think about trying anything funny or you won’t make it out of here without lookin’ like a net ball.” He warned you, and you just gave him a curt nod, trying not to let out the laugh you were holding from his comparison. After a few more tense moments, he released the weapon, allowing you to put it in the holster strapped to your hip. Even as confused as you were by the whole interaction, you decided to just brush it off, seeing as it wasn’t worth making a scene over.

“Where’s my bat at?” You asked, glancing up at the older male as he just rolled his eyes before turning to call for one of his men. Not even a few moments later, they returned with your bat, handing it to Seungcheol, who then turned to give it to you. You then took the modified bat in your hands with a wide grin on your lips.

“Open the gate,” Seungcheol shouted before the loud creak of the metal filled the air as the gates were pulled open, causing your heart to start racing slightly as the whole situation became real. They were forcing you out to do a mission that could very well result in your own death, but you knew not doing as they said would also result in your death. So with a sigh, you straighten your shoulders before looking over at Seungcheol.

“Guess I’m not gonna get a goodbye or good luck?” You asked with a smirk as you looked at the man, who only gave you a hard look.

He then reached over, grabbing Yeosang before proceeding to shove him into your arms, causing you to stumble slightly. You yelped as you almost fell, but you felt strong hands wrap around your arm, steadying you, and you looked over at Yeosang, who was looking at the commander who stood before you.

“You know the deal.” Then, with that, he pushed you both out of the compound, and as the gates closed, you could have sworn you saw a glimmer of pity flash in the older male’s eyes, but then the metal slammed shut with an almost deafening thud.

You stare at the dull metal for a few moments, trying to decipher if what you saw was real or just a trick of the eye. The feeling of a slight tug on your arm brought you out of your trance, causing you to look over where Yeosang was standing, staring at you with a blank look.

Grabbing the redhead's arm softly, you start to pull him away, only to be stopped by the voice of one of the guards at the gate’s watch tower.

“Well, lookie here, seems y/n is finally where she belongs.” One of the guards spoke before laughing, which in turn caused the other to laugh, before adding, “Hey, who knows, maybe the universe will do us a solid and get rid of her for us.”

Your jaw clenched tightly as you tried to ignore their antics, but the other guard's next few sentences caused your blood to boil.

“Hey zombie boy, I’m sure she’d make a great midnight snack. Don’t let her go to waste though, sad to see such a nice piece of ass go to waste.”

Heat crept up your neck, and you felt Yeosang stifling in your hold, causing you to look over at him, only to find him glaring daggers at the two men in the towers. You knew they weren’t worth your breath, so you just let out a sigh before tugging on Yeosang’s arm.

“Ignore them, let’s go.” You then walked away with Yeosang’s arm in your hand, leaving the annoying laughter to fade into the background.

-

Not a word was spoken between the two of you for at least the first half hour of walking until you suddenly stopped, turning towards him. Yeosang looked at you with a raised eyebrow, taking a step back as you stepped closer to him.

“Hold still, I’m just taking this stupid contraption off.” You muttered, “Hold this, too.” You hand him your bat before reaching for the straps of the mask they had put on him.

Yeosang felt his heart lurch in his chest as the skin of your palm touched his ear, the warmth seeping into his body. His body was unimaginably still as you pulled it over his head, standing on your tippy toes in order to do so.

Once the mask was off, you pulled the small key that was still in your pocket out and unlocked the cuffs. You then tossed the objects off to the side of the road before turning to look at him, a borderline annoyed expression on your face. 

Yeosang looked at you for a moment as he handed your bat back into your awaiting hands, waiting to see if you would say anything, but no words left your lips as you turned and started walking down the road once more. After a few steps, you noticed that he wasn’t behind you, so you looked over your shoulder.

“Come on, we can make a good distance before nightfall.” You told him, fixing your hold on your bat and turning back around, walking forward, this time with Yeosang following behind.

Just like you had hoped you had made good time before the sun started to set, leaving the sky a mixture of purples, pinks and oranges. Then to top it off you knew a good spot nearby that you both could camp out in for the night.

When you suddenly walked off of the road and into the woods Yeosang stopped, watching you for a moment unsure of what you were doing. He looked around and noticed that he had no idea where he was so without much of another thought he turned and followed where you had disappeared into the trees.

Breaking through the foliage you spotted the cave that you have found yourself at many many times in the past, a small smile spreading on your lips as you walked inside. Yeosang felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand tall as he took in his surroundings, there was a small fire pit in the center that looked like it had been used relatively recently.

“It looks like someone was here, what if they come back?” He asked, not really wanting to deal with any more people, but he blinked a few times when you just shrugged the bag off of your shoulders before taking a seat on one of the logs by the firepit.

“That someone would be me,” You told him, glancing in his direction for a moment before turning to put together another fire.

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed skeptically, not fully believing what you had just said. However, the soreness in his legs was screaming at him to just sit down so he pushed the unease to the side and walked over to the other log before sitting down. A small huff leaving his lips when he felt all of his muscles relax,

You pulled the backpack in front of you before searching through it, finding some of the food they had thrown inside. Grabbing it, you set it aside to zip the bag back up, then set it off to the side once again.

“Here.” Your voice pulled Yeosang from his thoughts and he looked up, finding you holding out one of the cracker snacks to him. He muttered a small thanks as he took the package and opened it, eating one of the crackers.

After making sure the fire was going you sat back, dusting your hands off on your jeans. You then grabbed the pistol that Seungcheol had given you out of the holster, popping the clip out. Once the clip was in your hand a small piece of paper slipped halfway out of the chamber causing your eyebrows to scrunch together.

As you were pulling the paper from the chamber you noticed the bullets in the chamber looked off. A small laugh of disbelief fell from your lips catching Yeosang’s attention. He watched in confusion as you started to pop the bullets out of the clip one by one until they were all out. When you popped the last bullet out you turned your hand letting them all fall to the ground, the sound of hollow bullets filled the air and anger bubbled deep in your gut as you realized that they had given you empty bullets.

“What’s wrong?” Yeosang asked, sitting up from leaning against the cave wall, but you didn’t say a word as you grabbed the bag Seungcheol gave you once more and grabbed the boxes of bullets that were inside.

Hurriedly you opened the box and with just one look you could tell that most of the bullets inside were also fakes.

“These are filled with blanks.” You told Yeosang, not sparing him a glance as you grabbed the note Seungcheol hid in the gun with a bitter laugh expecting it to be some kind of cruel joke he had left just to torment you.

However, when you opened the note your eyes went wide as you read the words that were written inside.

‘Watch your back out there, they have more planned than you think. Also check the lining in the back of the bag.’

His name was then signed at the bottom of the note and your eyebrows scrunched together, hands shaking as you tried to process what he meant. Swallowing thickly you grabbed the bag, running your fingers over the lining in the back of the bag before you found a small opening. Pulling it open after breaking some of the threads, reaching inside you felt a box.

Yeosang watched from the other side of the fire, unsure of what to do in this situation because he knew that you mentioned the mayor wanting to get rid of you, but he hadn’t expected him to leave you with little to nothing to protect yourself.

His eyes then widened slightly as you pulled out another box of bullets, leading him to wonder what was written in that note. However, he didn’t get a chance to ask before you sat the box on the ground before standing up, grabbing your bat.

“I’m gonna go scout out the area, get some rest.” Your voice wavered slightly as you turned, making your way towards the opening of the cave.

“Hey, you can’t–” Yeosang’s words fell on deaf ears as you disappeared out of the cave without another word. He let out a huff before slumping back onto the wall, “so annoying.”

You knocked branches out of your way as you walked further into the woods, your grip on the bat tight. Thoughts were swirling around in your head, trying to figure out what the hell Seungcheol had meant by they had more planned. What else could they possibly want? They’ve already practically sent you to your death by making you go on this ridiculous mission.

Anger, frustration, fear, anxiety, you name it started to boil over in your gut causing tears to brim in your eyes. You wanted to scream, to throw something, to let out all of these emotions, but this wasn’t the right time unless you wanted to draw every undead thing within a fifty mile radius to you. So you crouched down, running your fingers through your hair and taking a deep breath.

You just have to make it to the capital, then all of this will be over, and you can finally be free. Even if it was gonna be a long journey, you knew that you had to make it or else everything you’ve done so far would be a waste.

So, standing to your feet, you inhaled deeply before releasing a shaky breath, and you then turned to walk back to the cave.

The following weeks seemed to pass by in a blur, mostly filled with silence as the two of you walked. Every once in a while, you would talk, but it was almost as if you were talking to a brick wall. Yeosang barely uttered a word, except a few hums or short responses.

Even now, as you walk side-by-side, you try to think of anything to say to break the silence that had been hanging in the air for the last three hours. Yet nothing came to mind. Grumbling softly, you decided that it would probably be better to stay quiet.

Then there was a tugging at your gut. Telling you that something wasn’t right. So you stop, grabbing Yeosang’s arm in the process, causing him to stop and look back at you. Your eyes darted around, surveying the area around you.

“Wha–” Yeosang started to ask, but you held a hand up, silencing him as you continued to look around.

Your stomach drops as you notice the markings on a few of the trees near you. This wasn’t good; no, you were walking right into someone else's territory. Quickly, you turned, tugging on Yeosang’s arm. “We need to go.”

Yeosang looked at you, confused. Everything was fine, so what changed now? However, before he could even open his mouth to ask, a new voice tore through the air.

“Why not stop by y/n?” His voice caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand tall, dread creeping up your spine as your hold on Yeosang grew tighter. You turned slightly, looking over to find one of your old classmates standing there, arms crossed over his chest. Juyeon looked at you with an amused smirk before his eyes flickered over to Yeosang. His smirk grew wider, his hands falling to his sides as he took you in, “You sure picked up an interesting hobby.”

Your jaw locked tight, eyes narrowing as you pulled Yeosang closer to your body. The redhead looked down at you, a flicker of surprise flashing in his milky orbs, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“It’s none of your business, Juyeon,” You stated bitterly, “we’re just passing by.”

You knew you needed to get out of here as soon as possible because you knew what Juyeon was capable of. Staying longer than necessary would only raise the chances of something happening to you or, worse, Yeosang.

You were prepared to get away, but that idea was instantly crushed once you caught sight of two of Juyeon’s men standing behind you, guns in hand.

“Fuck.” You hissed quietly, grip never loosening on Yeosang’s arm as you tried to think of an escape plan.

The sound of a gun clicking behind you caused your body to go rigid, even if the cool metal wasn’t touching you, yet you could still feel the weight of it. Turning around slowly, you became face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. Yeosang’s breath hitched, his hand wrapping around your wrist, ready to pull you away.

“Do you really think I’m scared to die, Juyeon?” Your voice was cold as you looked past the gun, right at the dark-haired male who just gave you a smug grin. You ignored Yeosang’s tugging as you held Juyeon’s gaze, not daring to back down.

A sinister smirk spread across his face, causing an unease to settle in your bones, “Oh, I know you aren’t, however…” He then turned the gun until it was pointed directly at Yeosang, causing you to freeze, “he seems pretty important.”

Your heart drops, trying to rack your brain for anything that would get him to drop the gun. Yet as soon as you started to open your mouth, it was as if the world went into slow motion. In a matter of seconds, Yeosang pulled your body behind him as he pulled the gun from Juyeon’s hands, pointing his pistol right back at him.

The air around you grew tense, and your heart beat sporadically in your chest, almost loud enough to deafen any other noise around you. Unconsciously, your fingers wrapped around the back of Yeosang’s shirt, head on a swivel.

“You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that.” Juyeon chuckled, clapping his hands, which only made Yeosang’s glare deepen. His finger wrapped around the trigger, ready to pull it at a moment's notice. “But unless you want y/n’s pretty brain splattered all over these woods, I suggest you drop the gun.”

Yeosang’s shoulders tensed up at the mention of you, and your breath hitched, until you finally noticed movement out of the corner of your eye. You knew Juyeon wasn’t one to bluff; he never had been. So you released Yeosang’s shirt before stepping to his side, grabbing his wrist.

“Listen to him, Yeosang, there’s a sniper in the trees.” You told him quietly, and his eyes flickered over to you, watching as you gave him a small nod in the direction you had seen the movement.

Reluctantly, Yeosang lowers the weapon before dropping it to the ground with a ‘thump’. Juyeon smirked, a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach twist.

“Good choice.” His voice was smooth, yet in the blink of an eye, he motioned for his men to grab Yeosang.

“Hey!” You exclaimed as they pulled him from your grasp, but before you could move, Juyeon walked over after grabbing his gun and threw an arm around your shoulder. His hold was strong, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to break out of it easily.

“C’mon, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” Juyeon looked down at you with a borderline psychotic grin, sending a chill down your spine.

As he pulled you forward, you turned your head to check in on Yeosang, seeing him with that same unreadable expression, which made you feel even more uneasy. You needed to get the both of you out of this and as soon as possible.

-

Your unease only seemed to grow as you stepped foot into the compound, your ears ringing loudly as Juyeon pulled you toward a house. One you could only guess was his. Your eyes flickered around, internally mapping your best escape.

You and Yeosang were then pulled into the house, the door shutting with a heavy thud. You swallowed thickly as you heard the lock click into place, which was only going to make your escape that much harder.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Juyeon said with a flourish as he pushed you down onto the couch. His men pushed Yeosang into a chair off to your right. 

You looked over at the redhead who just gave you a curt nod, his jaw tight as he watched the dark-haired male sit down next to you.

Juyeon looked over at Yeosang, studying him with a slight smirk, “ya know you look pretty dead for someone who’s still breathin’.”

His comment caused your lip to twitch slightly, eyes narrowing into a glare as you looked over at him, “Again, it’s none of your damn business.”

Your words only caused Juyeon to chuckle, leaning back in his seat as he laid an arm over the back. However, he wasn’t able to say anything before one of his men came in, walking right over to him and leaning down to whisper something. Whatever he was told caused his eyes to flicker over to Yeosang, and that caused your heart to lurch.

They had found out who he was.

Biting down on your tongue, you let your eyes travel all across the room, trying to map out the best escape route that would get both you and Yeosang out unscathed. Sensing what you were doing, Yeosang shifted in his seat, but then you were pulled from your head as a glass was handed to you.

You looked at the glass before looking over at Juyeon with a raised eyebrow, a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you not to trust it. Juyeon just motioned to the glass as he crossed his legs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you reached over and grabbed the glass, looking down at the clear liquid inside, which you could only guess was water. You felt a small nudge on your foot, causing your eyes to flicker over to Yeosang, who was looking at you with a look that said, ‘Don’t drink it’.

Inhaling sharply, you brought the glass to your lips, tilting it until the liquid barely touched your lips, just enough to make it look like you took a drink. Bringing it back down, you leaned forward, placing the glass down on the table in front of you, getting ready to speak.

You barely got a sound out before the men who were still standing next to Yeosang’s chair grabbed the redhead. He tried to pull out of their hold as you jumped from your seat, shouting for them to let him go.

However, the room started to spin as if you had suddenly been put on a merry-go-round. You shook your head, trying to quell the dizziness, while Yeosang called out to you. Juyeon let out a chuckle as he watched you drop back down onto the couch, head in your hands, a weak whisper falling from your lips, “I didn’t even drink it.”

“Y/n!” Yeosang shouted, trying to yank his arms free, “Let. Me. Go!”

Juyeon moved closer to you, brushing your hair away from your neck, and leaned in until his lips brushed your ear, “I knew you wouldn’t drink it, so I put it on the rim.”

“Get off her!” Yeosang growled, managing to pull one arm free, but they were quick to grab him again, kicking the back of his knees, causing him to fall to the ground. You weakly called out Yeosang’s name, trying to move towards him, but Juyeon grabbed your arm, keeping you in place.

The smirk fell from Juyeon’s as annoyance flared up, a glare now adorning his features. He looked at his men, motioning for them to leave, “Lock him up, we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“No…” You tried to protest, despite your blurred vision. You tried to fight against the drug, but whatever Juyeon had given you was strong. Way too strong.

Yeosang’s name fell from your lips one last time as they pulled him out of the house before your vision went completely black and your body fell back against the couch.

A sinister smirk spread across Juyeon’s annoyed features once again as he leaned over you, grabbing your jaw in his hand and squishing your cheeks. He leaned down until he was a breath away from you, “You were bound to lose, that drug was strong enough to knock an elephant on its ass. You’re not getting away from me this time.”

He then shoved your jaw out of his hand, watching as your body lay across the couch. Letting out a huff, he ran his fingers through his hair before looking over at one of his remaining men, pointing at your motionless body.

“Lock her up and make sure she doesn’t come out.” He instructed the men, who gave him a curt nod and walked over to grab you. Once you were out of sight, Juyeon bit the inside of his cheek before making a beeline for the front door to figure out what to do with the half-dead male that seemed to be glued to your side.

Your eyes slowly opened, your head pounding as you tried to recall what happened. Sitting up, you rubbed your temples trying to ease the throbbing, but to no avail. Looking around, you realized that this wasn’t your room. Then it all came crashing back into you, and you quickly jumped out of the bed.

The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the soft light that was coming from a lantern that sat on the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Finding the door, you made quick strides to it, wrapping your fingers around the handle, praying that by some miracle it would be unlocked. But it wasn’t.

“Fuck.” You cursed lowly before turning, running your fingers through your hair, trying to think of something because the longer you were stuck in here, the sooner they would be leaving with Yeosang.

Walking over to the window, you checked the latches to make sure they were unlocked, and once they were, you tried opening the window, but it wouldn’t budge. Cursing, you looked down, seeing that they had sealed it shut.

You knew that they were going to take Yeosang to the capital, probably for the reward, but you weren’t about to let that happen. It wasn’t even about the money, but then again, you weren’t even sure why you were so adamant about getting both him and you out. Wouldn’t it be easier for you if they just took him and you got out free? Yet just thinking about it caused your heart to twist, a sharp pain erupting from your chest, causing you to hiss.

Inhaling sharply, you started looking around the room for anything that could pry the window open. You had to be quick, but also as quiet as possible, so as not to alert anyone in the house or the compound once you got out.

Walking over to a door that you believed was the closet, you tore it open only to be surprised by the bathroom on the other side. Looking around the bedroom one last time, you stepped into the small bathroom, searching the cabinets for anything useful, but most were empty.

Letting out a groan, you wrapped your fingers around the edge of the counter, leaning your head down. You grumbled to yourself that if you had to break the window, you would, but as soon as you lifted your head, you saw a window above the toilet through the mirror.

Quickly turning around with wide eyes, you walked over to the toilet, stepping on top of the lid until you could see out of the small window. You unlatched the locks and prayed that it would open and not be sealed like the other one was.

As soon as the wood creaked open, you let out a breath that you hadn’t even realized that you were holding. Pushing it open more, you reached up on your tippy toes to look over the ledge. It wasn’t a far drop, but you wouldn’t come out without a few cuts and bruises because of the bushes that were right under the window.

“Now isn’t the time to worry about that. I need to get out.” You mumbled to yourself as you climbed off the toilet. Walking over, you shut the bathroom door to try and muffle as much noise as possible.

Climbing back up the toilet, you used your upper body strength to pull yourself through the window. Throwing one leg out, you carefully pulled the other out before letting your body drop to the ground. You tucked into yourself to minimize the damage, but you could still feel the ache in your bones as you landed. Without sparing a second, you climbed back to your feet, ignoring the stinging from the cuts on your body, and scrambled to the side of the house.

You pressed your back against the rough brick as soon as you heard voices, holding your breath as you peeked around, finding two of Juyeon’s men. They were talking about Yeosang, and you knew because of the undead comments, causing your hands to clench into fists. Thankfully, they let slip where they were holding Yeosang, and you slipped past them quietly.

Using the shadows and distractions around you managed to make it to the small shed where they were holding Yeosang. Looking over, you noticed that there were two guards standing outside the door, talking to each other, blissfully unaware of your presence. 

Coming up with a quick plan to get them away, you snuck around the back of the building and found a hefty rock. Grabbing it, you then find a smaller one and throw it at a tree off to the side. The reaction was almost instant, and you pressed yourself closer to the building, waiting.

“What was that?” One of the guards asked, looking over his shoulder at the tree where you had just thrown the rock.

“Probably just an animal, you worry too much.” The other guard chuckled before returning to the stick he was whittling with his hunting knife.

“No animal makes that noise nowadays.” The first guard said before standing, “I’m going to check it out.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, not bothering to spare him a glance.

You crouched down right around the corner, waiting for him to move just out of sight of the other guard. You watched as he got closer to the tree and further away from his buddy, then once he crouched down to inspect the tree, you made your move. On quick feet, you walked up behind him, raising the rock before bringing it down. Hard.

He didn’t make a sound as he dropped to the ground, and you dropped the rock before searching his body for anything useful. You detached the knife from his belt before pulling the rifle off his body and slinging it over your shoulder.

Jogging back to the shed, you peeked around the corner, seeing that the other guard was still sitting there, now whistling to himself. Rolling your eyes you crept around to the other side, rifle in hand and once you were right behind him you used the butt of the rifle to hit him right at the base of the skull. Just like his buddy, he crumpled to the ground without a noise, and you searched his pockets, looking for the keys. When you found them, you stood straight and made your way to the door.

Yeosang sat inside the dark shed, eyes focused on the wall on the other side of the small room. His hand had started to go numb due to the position they had him cuffed, but that was the least of his worries. However, upon hearing the sound of the lock clicking, he stood to his feet, expecting it to be a guard.

They shouldn’t be back yet, though he couldn’t see outside, he knew that it wasn’t daylight yet. His hands balled into fists, eyes trained on the door, expecting them to come in and poke at him once again.

Yet his eyes went wide when the door flew open, and the guard he had expected to be there wasn’t a guard at all. It was you. Upon seeing him standing there, you rushed in, keys still tight in your hands as you reached for his cuffed hand.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, even in the darkness, you could see the busted lip he sported. His once shocked expression melted away, replaced by his usual neutral expression.

“I’m fine, are you?” His tone was flat, but there were still hints of worry as he took in the small, bleeding cuts that littered your hands, arms, neck, and face.

“Oh, you know, just dandy.” You gave him a small smirk before unlatching the cuffs from the wall after finding the key, then unlocking the cuff around his wrist. “C’mon, we need to get out of here before they notice I’m gone.”

Yeosang gave you a curt nod before following you out of the shed, eyes on a swivel as you jogged across the street. Sneaking between the houses, you looked over at him, nodding towards the wall. The redhead nodded before looking back to check once more before following after you.

Just as you emerged from the side of the house, someone grabbed your arm. You let out a gasp and grabbed the knife that was now attached to your hip, ready to stab whoever it was. However, whoever it was grabbed your wrist before the knife could make contact with their neck, a groan falling from their lips.

“Y/n!” The person exclaimed, causing your eyes to widen and your body to relax slightly. Before you could say anything, though, an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, creating a safe distance between you and the perpetrator. 

Yeosang glared at the male, his arm slipping from your waist to step in front of you, ready to attack if needed. You looked up at the back of his head with semi-wide eyes, your heart beating furiously under your ribs as heat crept up your neck.

Shaking your head, you pushed the weird feeling away for the time being before stepping to Yeosang’s side, finally seeing who it was that had grabbed you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you found one of your childhood best friends, “Jacob?”

“Long time no see y/n.” He offered you a small smile, but it was quickly wiped away as he stepped forward, “As much as I would love to catch up, we can’t waste time. Here.” He handed out a bag towards you, which you quickly took, lugging it onto your shoulders before taking your bat, which he was holding as well.

“Thank you,” You offered him a small smile, adjusting your bag and handing the rifle you were holding over to Yeosang, who took it without a word, but his eyes were still trained on the male in front of you.

“Don’t mention it, but if you follow the wall here that way, there’s a false wall. You’ll be able to get out there, be safe.” Jacob explained, pointing in the direction to your left, then he patted your shoulder softly, “See you around y/n.”

“Thank you, Jacob, but you should go before Juyeon notices.” You nodded at him before turning to grab Yeosang’s wrist, pulling him with you. Jacob watched until you were out of sight before turning and returning to his post, knowing that Juyeon would realize that you were gone sooner or later, and he was going to try to divert him as much as possible.

Following Jacob’s instructions, you found the false wall he had mentioned. Releasing Yeosang’s wrist, you pushed against it. A small breath of relief fell from your lips as it moved. Wrapping your fingers around it, you moved it to the side just enough for you and Yeosang to get out.

“Go.” You instructed the redhead, who looked at you with a raised eyebrow, but you couldn’t waste any time right now. Grabbing his arm, you pushed him towards the opening, and he shrugged your hand off before stepping through, low grumbles following. Ignoring him, you followed behind and then stopped to fix the wall so that it looked as you had found it.

“C’mon.” You situated the bag on your shoulders before the two of you took off running deeper into the woods, the trees providing the perfect cover.

You weren’t sure how long you had been running, but as soon as you found a small alcove, both of you stopped. With a huff, you sat down on a rock, taking the backpack off to find something to clean your and Yeosang’s wounds. Grabbing the disinfectant, you stood and walked over to Yeosang, who was leaning against the wall, a distant look in his eyes.

“Here, let me clean yo–” You didn’t even finish your sentence before he grabbed the stuff from your hand and walked off.

Confused, you stood there for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. Shaking your head, you just brushed it off as him going back to how he was before, and walked back over to the back. Sitting down, you started cleaning your own wounds, your jaw tight as you pulled stray branches from a few of the cuts.

Once they were cleaned and the deeper ones were wrapped, you stuffed everything back into the bag before looking over at Yeosang, “We’ll leave once the sun is up.”

When you didn’t get any sort of response from him, you pursed your lips but decided to just leave it to try and get some rest before you continued your journey in a few hours.

The days that followed left you even more confused and annoyed. Yeosang’s distant behavior was even worse; he didn’t say a word. If he did respond to you, it was always the same curt or rude response that left you speechless. His attitude was starting to get under your skin, unsure if you had done anything, but hell, if you had, he could’ve been up front about it.

At one point, you gave up trying to even communicate with him altogether, not unless absolutely necessary. So the days that followed in silence, both of you would walk until you found a place to camp out.

That was until you got to a town, where you knew that finding a place to camp out would be easy. That was if it was clear of humans and zombies. The sun was starting to set, and you saw a factory-like building off to your left that looked habitable, so you stopped.

“Do you think it’ll be clear?” You tried to look for the door, and Yeosang just rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff, causing you to glare at him.

“Oh, I’m sure with the door wide open, there won’t be anything inside.” He quipped, his tone mocking as he turned away from you.

Anger started to bubble in your gut as you looked at him. You had thought that you guys were doing just fine. But now? Now you weren’t even sure what the hell had happened. However, you knew that you were growing tired of his attitude.

“Can you not be an ass for like five minutes and help me clear it out?” You asked, your voice shaking as you tried to keep quiet, not wanting to attract nearby attention.

“How am I being an ass? I’m just stating the obvious.”

Your eye twitched as you looked at him, and your last thread of patience from over the last few days finally wore thin. “I don’t know what crawled up your ass but I need you to pull it out and help me here.” Your voice rose higher than you wanted, which easily attracted a few zombies in the vicinity.

Your eyes grew wide, and your body stiffened as you noticed more and more zombies gathering due to the noise.

“Shit, Yeosang now isn’t the time for this.” You hissed quietly, grabbing his arm and trying to get him to follow you, but to your surprise, he just shrugged you off, taking a step back.

“You wanna scout out the area, see if it can keep them out.” His words were like a knife to the gut; he pretty much just told you to serve yourself on a silver platter for the undead around you. And as if that wasn’t enough, he turned and walked right through the small herd without a care in the world.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you watched him go. Was he really about to leave you to fend for yourself? Your mouth ran dry as the zombies got closer, your hands starting to shake as you looked around.

Without much of a choice, you took off towards the building to your left, using your bat to fend off a few of the stragglers in front of you. You darted inside, narrowly missing the hands of one zombie, and your ears were ringing loudly as you ran. The walls seemed to move as you ran down the hall, not caring to kill any of the zombies because it would just hinder you.

Turning down the hall, you found a closet. Without missing a beat, you tore the door open and jumped inside. Slamming the door shut just before the horde got to you. The sounds of them growling and banging the door were deafening as you stumbled back into the pitch-dark closet.

A sharp gasp fell from your lips when your foot got caught on something, causing you to fall back. Pain erupted along your arm, causing you to bite your lip in order to not cry out as you felt blood ooze out of the wound. You held your arm as you scooted back, tears brimming in your eyes as the growling only got louder and the door rattled.

Cowering in the corner, you covered your ears, burying your face in your knees, trying to drown out the noise and praying that the door held up.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in that small closet as you slowly lifted your head, hands falling away from your ears. When you didn’t hear the sounds of growling anymore, you let out a small cry of relief.

Wiping the tears from your face, you pulled yourself to your feet, ignoring the way your joints groaned in protest. Walking over to the door, you placed your ear against the sturdy metal, listening for any sign of the undead. When you didn’t hear anything, you wrapped your fingers around the handle before pulling it open slowly. Peeking out, you didn’t see any sign of the undead save for a few that were at the end of the hall, unaware of your presence. 

With light footing, you stepped out of the closet and carefully made your way back out of the building, avoiding any undead you saw, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself. Once you were outside, you were met with the harsh rays of sunlight, telling you that you had been trapped there all night.

Remembering why you were there in the first place caused rage to boil in your blood, your fingers tightened around your bat, and you made your way down the street. You were going to find Yeosang, and he’d be lucky if you didn’t beat him to a pulp.

It didn’t take you long before you saw movement in the treeline a few blocks away, the red hair a tell-tale sign. Clutching your bat, you made your way towards him, your jaw tight and anger simmering in your eyes.

As soon as Yeosang caught sight of you moving towards him, he felt a weight lifted off his chest; however, your name barely left his lips when your hand collided with the side of his face. He blinked a few times, trying to process what had just happened, glancing over at you, seeing the mixture of hurt and anger in your eyes.

“You fucking asshole!” You exclaimed, fresh tears starting to build along your waterline, “How could you just fucking leave me like that? Do you know that I could’ve died, huh?!”

Yeosang looked at you, his expression falling back to his usual neutral expression which only pissed you off more. He let his hands fall to his sides, running his tongue along the inside of his teeth. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that moment. Worry? Anger? Frustration? Protectiveness?

He didn’t know, and that’s what bothered him the most. He was scared that if what he was feeling was actually what he thought it was that he would only hurt you more. He was also unsure about everything. He didn’t want to hurt you, but when those words fell from his lips, he knew it was too late.

“Would’ve done me a favor, I don’t want to be stuck with you anymore, alright!” He growled, his eyes narrowing into slits, but as soon as he saw your shoulders slump and hurt flash across your face, he immediately felt guilty.

“You don’t wanna be stuck with me?” You asked in disbelief before a short laugh left your lips, tears threatening to break free as you pointed your bat at him. Yeosang’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked down at the weapon you had pointed at him, the blade merely inches away from his face. “You know what? Fine. FINE! Since you don’t wanna be stuck with me anymore, I'll just leave you at the next checkpoint. Is that what you want?” You asked, your voice shook while gradually growing louder, and Yeosang’s heart twisted as he watched the first few tears break free, falling down your red cheeks.

Yeosang opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But all of the words he wanted to say died on his tongue, and he could only stare at you as your hands shook.

You couldn’t believe that you actually thought the two of you had something, but maybe you were just delusional. Back when he protected you, it was probably because you were the only one who knew where you were going, and he needed you. More tears continued to fall as you fought your inner turmoil, hands shaking uncontrollably.

All of the ruckus caught the attention of a few survivors, and they slowly made their way over, but once they recognized the redhead, they sprang into action. Wooyoung pulled out the pistol from its holster, aiming it right at the back of your head. San held his gun out, but lowered it as he walked around you towards Yeosang, who looked at him in surprise.

“Drop the weapon.” Wooyung’s tone was curt as he stepped closer to you, but you could only scoff.

“I don’t know what you’re doing with him, but–” “If you want him be my fucking guest, I’m done.” You cut San off, dropping your bat to your side and wiping your face clear of tears before turning and walking right past Wooyoung, who stepped to the side, confused.

“Yeosang, man, are you okay?” San asked as he reached for Yeosang’s shoulder, but the redhead just ignored him.

Clenching his jaw, he brushed San’s hand off before making a beeline for you, grabbing a hold of your arm before you went too far. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he pulled you behind him, ignoring all of your complaints.

“Let’s go.” His voice was curt as he looked from Wooyoung to San, and both males just looked at each other, confused, but led the way to their camp regardless. 

You continued to try to get out of Yeosang’s hold, but his grip was far too strong, so eventually you gave up, letting him pull you behind him. Angry grumbles fell from your lips, but they went unheard as Yeosang tried to sort his mind out.

After about fifteen minutes, you broke through a small opening where San and Wooyung had set up camp. Once Yeosang stopped walking, you were finally able to yank your arm free from Yeosang’s grasp before walking over to a log and sitting down. You didn’t spare any of them a glance as you opened your bag, looking for bandages and the spare hoodie you had stashed away.

“What happened to you, man?” San asked, turning towards Yeosang, whose eyes were still stuck on your form. He bit his tongue before turning to look at the boys, and their breath caught in their throats as they were able to take in his appearance.

“It’s a long story, but we're on our way to the capital.” He explained and just ignored him, not in the mood to have any input in their conversation.

“Did she do this to you? Or is she making you go so you can be prodded like a lab rat?” Wooyoung asked, pointing at you, and all your movements came to a halt.

“I didn’t do anything to him.” You sneered, glaring at the dark-haired male who returned your gaze with a glare of his own.

“Oh really, because it looked like you were one second away from slicing his throat earlier.” Wooyoung hissed, causing you to shoot out of your seat, rage bubbling up your throat once more.

“You wanna ask him why I did it? Huh? I didn’t ask to be stuck with him, nor do I have to explain myself to you!” You exclaimed, fixing him with a hard glare, hands balled into fists at your side.

“Considering we brought you back to our camp, you do.” Wooyoung pointed at you as he took a step towards you. “You’re holding our friend against his will after doing god, who knows what to him, and you think you’re innocent?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, your face flushing red, “Are you fucking dense or something?”

Your question caused Wooyoung’s eye to twitch, taking another step towards you, but Yeosang put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly. 

“Knock it the hell off, I went willingly.” Yeosang told them, annoyance laced in his tone, “and she didn’t do this to me.”

Wooyoung then backed off, but never once did the glare on his face leave, causing you to roll your eyes.

Inhaling deeply, you crouched back down to finish grabbing what you needed, ignoring Yeosang's explanation that he was giving the two males. That was until you felt eyes on you once again, and you looked up with a raised eyebrow, seeing both San and Wooyoung giving you a skeptical look.

“We’re gonna go with you, just to be safe.” San told the redhead who just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose while you rolled your eyes, muttering a ‘whatever’ before raising to your feet once more.

You took a step away from your bag before looking around, seeing that the sun was well above you, meaning it was just after noon. With a huff, you looked back down, your jaw tight as you found all three looking back at you, “We’ll leave in the morning.”

Then you turned and started walking away, but you didn’t get too far before you heard Yeosang call your name.

“Where are you going?”

“I heard water nearby, so I’m going to clean up.” You told him, your tone short, and you didn’t even bother to look back at him, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back once I’m finished.” Then, without another word, you walked off, not giving him a chance to say anything and leaving the three men alone.

Yeosang let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eyes before running his fingers through his hair. He knew he messed up, more like royally screwed up. 

“What a lovely attitude she has. I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.” Wooyoung quipped with a roll of his eyes, but quickly shut his mouth when he saw the dark look Yeosang was giving him. “I’m just saying.” He muttered, looking away from the redhead.

“She has every right to be pissed.” He told him, the glare falling from his features, before letting out another sigh. Yeosang then explained everything that happened up to the point where the two had found you and Yeosang. As he talked about it, the more his heart started to twist in guilt, he knew that he shouldn’t have left you like that, and he had no real excuse except that he was scared of what he was feeling.

By the time Yeosang was finished explaining everything, Wooyoung started to feel a bit bad for lashing out like he did. San just shook his head, finally understanding what had actually happened. They felt bad for you, almost, knowing that you were probably scared and hurt.

The silence lasted for a few moments before Yeosang cleared his throat, “I’m gonna go check on her.”

No other words were spoken as he turned and followed after where you had disappeared, leaving San and Wooyoung to watch his retreating figure. Once he was out of sight, the two men looked at each other.

“Call me crazy, but I think he has a thing for y/n,” Wooyoung spoke first, pointing a finger in the direction that the two of you had gone.

San just nodded, “Yeah, but it seems like he’s trying to deny it.”

He wasn’t wrong; Yeosang had been trying his best to ignore those feelings for the past few days. Unsure of what they were in the first place, but also scared. 

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be able to for much longer.” Wooyoung shrugged, moving over to one of the logs and plopping down, San following shortly after.

-

It didn’t take Yeosang very long to find where you had gone, the sound of running water leading him right to you. Breaking through the trees, he stopped short when he took in your appearance. You had taken off the hoodie and shirt you had been wearing, leaving you in a black tank top. His eyes trailed the length of your body, taking in all of the small scars and bruises that littered your skin from when you jumped back at the compound. But what caught his eye was the large gash that was on the back of your left arm, blood still oozing from it.

His blood ran cold as he realized that it was fresh and must have happened when you were getting away from the hoard last night. Stepping forward, he spoke quietly, “Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice breaking the silence caused you to jump, your head turning to look over at him. Your eyes were wide, shock masking your features, but it quickly melted into annoyance in a matter of seconds.

“I’m fine,” You spoke harshly, turning back around and grabbing the bandages that sat next to you, “and you can stop pretending to care.”

Your words struck a chord deep within his chest, the very chord that finally snapped, and he came to terms with what he was feeling. Though he wasn’t sure it was love, he knew it was something along those lines.

He clenched his jaw and made his way over to you, snatching the bandages from you as he sat down without a word. You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quicker, grabbing your arm. Not hard enough for it to hurt, but firm enough that you wouldn’t move.

“I do care.” His voice was gruff, eyes fixated on your arm, “and you need to stop being so damn stubborn.”

Your eyes went wide, all of your anger and annoyance suddenly dissipated as you watched him wrap the bandage around your arm. He didn’t dare to look up, scared to face you as he finally let his confession fall from his lips.

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole. I know that doesn’t mean anything, but I shouldn’t have left you like that.” He started, carefully wrapping the bandage around your arm, making sure it was snug but not too tight, “I just didn’t know what I was feeling. I guess I was scared. I care about you so much, y/n, and it’s terrifying because I’ve never felt like this before. When that prick back at the compound drugged you, I fought like hell to get back to you, scared that he was gonna do something. Scared that I was gonna lose you, but in the end I almost lost you anyways because I’m a fucking idiot.”

He spilled everything, and you just sat there, eyes never leaving his figure as it finally dawned on you. The reason you were so hurt. The reason that you couldn’t leave him behind. It was because you had fallen for him. You weren’t sure when, but it happened.

When Yeosang didn’t get any kind of response from you, he grew worried that he had just made a fool of himself. He then heard soft sniffles, causing him to look up quickly, worried that something was wrong. However, as soon as he looked up at you, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss.

It took him by surprise at first, but after a few seconds, he melted into you, returning the kiss. It was sweet and longing, like you had waited an eternity to share. Your hand wrapped around his neck, holding him close as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

Then he suddenly pulled away, startling you as you looked at his worry-filled eyes, “I can’t…” He breathed, trying to catch his breath, and you looked at him confused, “What if I can still turn someone? I don’t want to hurt you, y/n.”

You looked up at him with adoration, but you didn’t care about that. No, what you cared about was how good his lips felt on yours. How right it felt.

“Yeosang, I don’t care.” You pulled him closer to you until his lips were a hair away from yours, “just kiss me.”

Seeing the desperate gleam in your eyes, Yeosang threw all caution to the wind, surging forward to seal his lips over yours. The kiss this time was more desperate, filled with need as he pulled your body closer to his. His hands roamed your body gently, careful of your wounds, before he cradled the back of your head, pushing you back until you were lying flat on the ground. Caging your body under his as he let his lips trail from yours to your jaw down to your neck.

A soft moan fell from your parted lips when he found that sweet spot right under your ear. He made sure to focus on that spot, wanting to draw out any sweet sound you’d make, but was careful not to break the skin. 

“Yeosang…” You breathed out as he reached your collarbones. Your body felt like it had been lit aflame, every touch of his fingers making it burn hotter. The pressure building between your thighs was starting to grow unbearable.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you.” He whispered in your ear as his hands slipped under your tank top, fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

Yeosang felt like he was about to combust the more he explored your body; he kissed every scar, every blemish, every mole. Kissing your body until you were squirming in his hold, begging him to do something.

He let out a soft chuckle before pulling away from you, but not before wrapping his arm around your waist. A sharp gasp fell from your lips as he lifted your body off the ground into his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he grabbed your discarded hoodie, laying it on the ground before laying you down once more.

As soon as your back touched the ground, you were pulling him down to you, connecting your lips in another heated kiss. Your hands slipped from his neck down his chest, feeling every ridge through the fabric of his t-shirt. Then your hand trailed lower, brushing right over the growing tent in his jeans, causing him to hiss against your lips.

“Fuck.” He cursed, pressing one last kiss against your lips before pulling back. You watched him with doe eyes as he grabbed your leg, tugging your boots off before letting his hands fall to your thighs, watching as you inhaled sharply when he squeezed the soft fat.

No words were spoken as he let his hands wander up to the button of your jeans at a torturously slow pace, like you had all of the time in the world. A small whine was pulled from your lips when he gripped your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“Yeo… please.” The nickname fell from your lips like it was second nature and Yeosang felt his dick twitch in his jeans as he soaked it in. His eyes trained on your face, your lips were kiss swollen and your eyes held a need that he knew that he would only be able to sedate.

“Please, what, sweetheart?” He asked, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he leaned over you once more, lips ghosting over yours. Your eyes fluttered shut when his fingers brushed over your stomach right above your jeans.

“Stop teasing and do something.” You whine, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders. He chuckled softly, taking in all of your small reactions as he continued to tease, committing them all to memory.

Once he had his fun, he popped the button of your jeans, causing a sigh to leave your lips, your head falling back onto the ground softly. He made quick work of your jeans, pulling them off your legs before tossing them to the side. His eyes then fell back onto your body, eyes tracing every curve like it was the grandest masterpiece he’s ever seen.

You felt small under his heated gaze, your heart beating rapidly against your ribs. Heat rushed up your neck, painting your face a brilliant shade of red. Your hands came up to cover your face when Yeosang’s hand dipped below the waistband of your underwear. 

Noticing Yeosang move his free hand from your hip, grabbing your wrists in his hands before pinning them above your head. He leaned down, planting a kiss on your jaw before speaking in a low tone that had your body shivering, “Don’t hide from me, pretty.” 

“Yeo–” Your voice caught in your throat as his fingers split your folds, tracing your slit before pressing down on your clit. A choked moan slipped past your lips, eyes rolling slightly.

“You’re so wet love,” He cooed, pressing kisses along your jaw as he slowly drew figure eights on your bundle of nerves, leaving you gasping for air. Your fingers dug into his hand as your mind slowly slipped deeper into the pleasure. 

A loud whine fell from your lips when he pressed against your entrance, and Yeosang quickly sealed your lips with his, swallowing all of your noises. He pressed his digit further into your tight walls, a groan falling from his lips at your warmth.

“God, you’re so tight.” He pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips as he worked you open with his finger. You bit your bottom lip trying to keep your moans at bay, but the way he easily reached that spongy spot deep in your walls made it extremely hard.

“Fuck!” You curse when he pressed a second finger into your weeping cunt, stretching you further. Yeosang peppered kisses along your jaw and neck as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. A soft mewl fell past your swollen lips as he picked up his pace once he felt you start to loosen.

Yeosang was enjoying watching you fall apart on just his fingers, a sick satisfaction bubbling in the depths of his gut. Yet he knew that you both were running on limited time before San and Wooyoung came looking for you.

You let out a whine when he pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty, but he quickly silenced you as he pulled you into a deep kiss. The kiss caused your mind to go numb, fingers balling into a fist above your head where he was still holding you. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and you opened up for him without a second thought. 

He groaned at your taste, a taste he knew that he would never get tired of. Pulling away, he bit down on your bottom lip softly before sitting up, realizing your hands in the process. You watch him with hooded eyes, chest heaving as you try to regain control of your breathing.

You sat up on your elbows as he reached for the button of his jeans, excitement and anticipation coursed through your veins as you watched him pop open the button. He pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees letting his hard cock spring free and your mouth watered at the sight.

Noticing your gaze, he hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your face until you were looking at him, “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flickered to his lips, and he couldn’t help but smirk, but watching your eyes roll back when he teased your entrance with his tip was a sight he wanted to burn into his memory. He laid you back down flat on your back before grabbing your hip in one hand while positioning himself with the other after moving your underwear to the side.

Then he started to push in, and it felt like your body was floating on cloud nine. The stretch was a bit painful, but that pain was soon replaced by pleasure as he bottomed out.

“Yeo–” You gasped out, hands reaching for him, a string of whines and moans falling from your lips as he bent down. His jaw tightened as he tried to keep his cool with how your walls were contracting around him.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, love,” He groaned, pressing a kiss on the corner of your lips, but you just shook your head softly.

“I–I can’t. You feel too good.” You whined, hips rolling unconsciously, causing you to let out a choked moan while he hissed sharply.

“Fuck sweetheart.” He sat up, grabbing your hips softly, he rolled his hips, testing the waters, and when you let out a loud moan, he knew the noise was gonna be an issue.

“Yeo, move, now. Please.” You pleaded with him, hips moving, trying to gain some friction to ease the pressure that was starting to build in your gut.

He was starting to lose his willpower as he took in your teary eyes, so he pulled out until just the tip was left before snapping his hips back into yours. That alone was enough to have you seeing stars, a high-pitched moan leaving your lips, and Yeosang cursing lowly.

Releasing your hip with one hand, he brought it up to your mouth, covering your lips in hopes of muffling your noises. He then started fucking into you, slow and steady at first as he watched your eyes roll back. But as your nails dug into his forearm and your walls squeezed his cock like a vice his mind was starting to slip.

When he picked up the pace, your muffled moans started to come out broken as you tried to keep up, but your brain just wasn’t fast enough. White spots started to cloud the corner of your vision, either from the way your gut tightened or the lack of oxygen. Maybe even both.

Yeosang’s grip on your hip was tight, using it as leverage to fuck into your tight heat. He bit down on his lip when he felt you start to tighten even more, a tell-tale sign that you were getting close.

“Are you close, sweetheart?” He cooed, watching as your teary eyes cracked open, staring up at him with silent pleas over his hand. This sight left his dick twitching in your walls, the sensation eliciting a muffled whine from your covered lips.

Leaning down, he moved his hand, grabbing the back of your head before bringing you into a bruising kiss. The position change had his tip brushing right over your sweet spot, causing you to cry out his name, but he was quick to swallow all of your sounds with his lips as he kept his rough pace.

“Cum for me pretty, I wanna see you make a mess on my cock.” He coaxed you as he bit down on your bottom lip once more. Then when he brought his other hand down to toy with your swollen clit you knew you were done for. That tight coil in your gut finally snapping and you came around his dick with a broken cry of his name, fingers digging into his shoulders as he fucked you though your orgasm. “Good girl.” His voice was sweet like honey as he caressed your side, his pace slowing just slightly so as to not overwhelm you.

“Yeo…” You gasped, mind turning fuzzy as he continued to fuck into you throwing you into a state of overstimulation.

“Just a little bit more love,” He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he chased his own high. You covered your own mouth to muffle your moans as he abused your cunt, then after a few more powerful thrusts he pulled from your intoxicating heat, fisting himself as spurts of hot cum sprayed across your stomach and chest.

He then collapsed on top of you, using one arm to hold some of his weight so he wasn’t crushing you. His face was buried in the crook of your neck as you both came down from your highs.

After a few moments, he pulled himself off your body before fixing himself, then reaching over for your discarded shirt. He dipped the edge of it in the water before using it to clean his cum off of your body and the mess between your legs as you lay there trying to process what the hell just happened.

Once you were cleaned up, he helped you sit up, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, causing your eyes to flutter shut. His hands smoothed down your sides, holding you close as you lay against him.

“Don’t ever think I don’t care, because I do. A lot.” He muttered, voice hoarse as he spoke, and you just hummed.

“I care about you, too, Yeo. I’m sorry I blew up.” You apologized as you pulled away, looking up at him with a small pout.

“It’s okay, I deserved it.” He gave you a small smile before leaning down to kiss you softly, one filled with warmth and promise. He then pulled away, grabbing your other hoodie, “C’mon, we better get back to the guys before they come searching for us.”

You nodded before standing, almost toppling over because your legs felt like jelly, and Yeosang could only laugh, causing you to glare at him. After you both were dressed properly and looked presentable, you gathered all of your stuff and walked with him towards the camp.

Getting back to the camp, you saw San and Wooyoung talking about something that you couldn’t quite make out, but once both of you got close enough, they looked over. Wooyoung looked at you with a smirk while San’s face held a knowing smile.

“Everything okay now?” Wooyoung asked, an underlying teasing tone in his words causing your face to flush, and Yeosang just cleared his throat.

San couldn’t help but laugh at the way you both were acting like teenagers who had just been caught in the act, but he just shook his head. He then pointed to the cans that were sitting next to the log where your bag was.

“Go ahead and eat, we can come up with a game plan later.” He told both of you, and you nodded before walking over. Sitting down, you shoved everything that was in your arms back into your bag. Once you were done, Yeosang handed you one of the cans, and you took it with a small smile, muttering a thank you.

-

Later that afternoon, you sat off to the side cleaning your bat while the three boys were coming up with a game plan. You didn’t listen to much of their conversation unless they asked for your input, your mind was far too preoccupied.

Images of you and Yeosang’s earlier encounter flashed in your mind, causing your ears to burn. His touch still lingered on your skin, and the way his lips melted perfectly against yours. It was all starting to drive you insane.

Then you heard it. Quiet, but there. A rustle further in the trees, footsteps almost. Too precise to be any kind of animal. All your movements stopped, head perking up as you tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. Noticing the sudden change in your demeanor, Yeosang motioned for the guys to stop talking before making his way towards you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a hushed whisper, crouching down next to you.

You shook your head softly, bringing your finger to your lips and listening closely. Then you realized that they were coming towards the camp. Springing into action, you grabbed your bat and bag before looking over at the other three.

“Grab your stuff and hide. Now.” You told them, a firmness in your voice that none of them dared to question.

All of you gathered your belongings before bolting. You pressed your back against a large tree, while Yeosang and San crouched behind a rock to your left. Then, Wooyoung was behind a tree on the other side of them. You listened once more, waiting to see if they were actually coming right for the camp or if you were just being paranoid. But when you heard the footsteps grow closer, followed by voices, you knew that you had been right.

“Dammit, I thought you said you saw them in this area?” His voice was gruff, then followed by the sounds of rustling. Hearing how close they were, you looked over at the guys, motioning for them to stay quiet and to stay low, to which they all nodded in confirmation.

“They couldn’t have gone far, hell, it looked like y/n was injured when I saw her in town.” Another voice filled the air, and your blood ran cold. 

They were after you and Yeosang.

Were they from the compound? Is this what Seungcheol was talking about in his letter? Then, as if the universe heard your questions, yet another voice spoke.

“The mayor is getting impatient, he’s already pissed that we already lost them once.” His words were followed by a groan, and your eyes widened, “he wants y/n’s head and that reward money before the end of the month.”

Holding your breath, you peeked out from behind the tree, seeing that there were four men, all wearing military gear. The same gear that the military personnel from your compound wore. Cursing quietly you turned back, laying your head against the harsh bark of the tree. You needed to come up with a plan to lure them away before they found all of you. Looking around, you didn’t see much of anything but trees; however, if you could get them far enough, San and Wooyoung could get Yeosang out of here.

So with a nod to yourself, you looked over at the guys, Yeosang’s eyes already on you as he saw the gears turning in your head. You used your hands to tell them that you were going to run in the opposite direction to keep the men away while they made a run for it.

Instantly knowing what you were wanting to do, Yeosang started to stand, wanting to protest, but San grabbed his arm. You just gave him a small smile, mouthing ‘it’ll be okay’ before turning and running, which caught the attention of the men.

“There she is! Get her!” One shouted before all four of them took off after you.

Yeosang started to go after you, but San was quick to grab his arms once more, stopping him. “Yeosang, we need to go.”

“He’s right, plus she’ll be fine.” Wooyoung chimed in, jogging up to both of them, but Yeosang shoved San off of him, a sharp glare adorning his features.

“No, I’m not just leaving her. Not again.” He growled, and before either of the men could react, Yeosang pulled Wooyoung’s pistol out of his holster and took off after you.

You kept running, dodging branches and maneuvering around trees, ignoring the way your legs were screaming at you in protest. Then you finally broke out of the treeline, finding a road, but you came to a screeching halt when you saw the drop-off on the other side.

With ragged breaths, you turned around, finding all four men walking out of the treeline, guns raised and aimed right at you. Looking at each of them, you only recognize the one right in front of you. He had been the guard who was posted outside your room.

“Fancy seeing you here, Jihoon.” You quipped, a small smirk tugging on your lips as you lifted your hands in the air.

“Cut the bullshit y/n, where’s the half-dead?” He asked, stepping closer to you, and you stepped back, trying to keep some distance between you. However, looking back, you noticed just how close to the edge you were and had no choice but to stop.

“I don’t know.” You turned your head to look back at him. “We got separated, and I haven’t found him yet.” 

“Bullshit, I saw you with him.” One of the guards on Jihoon’s right spoke, his gun held high, “Where are you hiding him?”

Recalling that they had seen both you and Yeosang in town, you knew you couldn’t lie about not being with him. So you just looked at him before your eyes flickered back over to Jihoon, your lips sealed shut. Your silence only caused him to shake his head, knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer out of you.

“Drop it, he can’t be far. We’ll just look for him after we take care of her.” He glanced over at his men, who nodded their heads in understanding, before he looked back at you, finger wrapping around the trigger. 

You were trapped, either getting shot and most likely dying, or jumping and breaking a few bones. Deciding that the latter would be a better option, you held your breath waiting until he was about to jump.

“No hard feelings, y/n, we’re just doing our jobs,” Jihoon told you, but the smirk that was plastered on his face told you that he was enjoying this. Holding back from cringing, you watched him, waiting until the right moment.

“Y/n!” The sound of your name caused your head to snap over just as Yeosang broke through the trees. Cursing, you acted quickly, grabbing your pistol out of its holster and shooting Jihoon right in the arm, causing him to drop his gun.

Then all hell broke loose. Gunshots were fired as you tried to get to Yeosang, but they managed to keep you two separated. You watched in horror as one knocked the gun out of Yeosang’s hands, but the redhead grabbed the guy, pulling him in before sinking his teeth into his neck. Then, with a hard jerk, he ripped a chunk of skin from the man’s neck, blood spraying everywhere, including Yeosang’s face.

“Holy hell.” Your eyes went wide, cursing lowly as you shot at the other guard who was helping Jihoon, but he managed to dodge.

You took that chance to get to Yeosang, but before you could get too far, another gunshot rang loudly in the air. The air was still for a moment, your body frozen to the spot, and the ringing in your ears growing tenfold.

“Y/N!” Yeosang shouted, shoving the dead soldier's body to the side before making a beeline for you, but he was quickly grabbed, shoved to the ground.

You stumbled back, and the pain started to rise as you lifted your hand to your chest. Crimson blood coated your fingers as you pulled it away, the sight leaving you lightheaded. Every sound around you felt like it was coming from the other side of a tunnel, distant and inaudible.

But despite the pain, there was something larger, much larger, eating at your soul. Guilt. Your eyes found Yeosang’s as they pinned him to the ground, his cries of your name ringing loudly in your ears. After everything, you weren’t able to save him from falling back into the hands of those who hurt him in the first place. Tears dripped from your eyes as you stumbled back a bit more. You weren’t sure if you would survive, but if by some miracle you did, you would fight like hell to get him back.

Your body started to feel heavy, limbs going numb, starting with your fingertips. Black spots clouded your vision, and just before you felt yourself fall, you whispered one thing, “I’m sorry.”

Yeosang screams, trying to break out of their hold as he watches your body topple over the edge. His blood ran cold as you disappeared from his sight, tears that had built along his waterline finally breaking free. The world seemed to slow around him, the guards' voices falling on deaf ears, and his eyes never left the spot where you had just been standing.

Jihoon groans, holstering his pistol before grabbing his arm where you had shot him, grumbling something about you being a pain in the ass. He then turns and sees one of his men’s bodies crumpled to the ground, a pool of blood forming underneath him. Eyes narrowing he turned his attention to the redhead, “muzzle his ass and let’s go.”

Once they pulled Yeosang back to his feet, he was pulled from his daze. He managed to pull himself from their hold, but they were quick to grab him again. No matter how much he fought he couldn’t win against them as they shoved that damned muzzle over his head and cuffed him once again.

Even when they were pulling him away, he kept looking back, hoping by some miracle that you would be standing there perfectly fine. But you weren’t, and he could only pray that you would be okay.

At the bottom of the cliff, your body lay there, face lying against the cold dirt. Your eyes open slowly, your mind hazy as you turn your head. Every fibre of your body was screaming in pain, the pain almost mind-numbing as your eyes fluttered closed. The sound of nearing footsteps causes you to open your eyes once more, just as you see feet walking towards you, but your eyelids feel heavy. Not being able to stay awake any longer, you allow yourself to fall into that darkness.

Unsure of how long it has been since you last woke, your eyes are barely opened. Just enough to tell that someone was carrying you. Then the memories of Yeosang being taken flash across your mind.

“Yeo… sang.” You croaked out weakly before your body was consumed by darkness once more.

A soft groan fell from your lips as you awoke, eyes slowly opening but quickly closing due to the harsh lights. Blinking a few times, you let your eyes adjust, but the pounding in your head came like a freight train, making you hiss in pain.

Then you realized that you were in a room, the off-white, dusty ceiling staring back down at you. You don’t remember ever going to a house. And just like that, memories of the guards, the gunshot, and Yeosang being taken all come rushing back. Your heart dropped, and your body shot up, but you instantly regretted it as pain shot up your shoulder and through your chest.

A door off to your right creaked open, and your blood ran cold, your hand instinctively reaching for your gun. Only to realize that it wasn’t there. Dread fills your veins as you watch the male walk into the room, his brown hair sitting messily on top of his head.

“You’re finally awake.” He greeted you, a plate sitting in his hands as he stopped at a reasonable distance away from you. The sight of food had your stomach grumbling, unsure of the last time you actually had any real food.

However, you pushed your hunger to the side and looked up at him with narrow eyes, “Where am I?”

Jisung took a step forward, holding the plate of food out, “Eat, your body’s weak.” He told you, and you just looked down at the food skeptically, but your stomach felt like it was about to collapse in on itself from hunger, so reluctantly you grabbed the plate with your good arm.

“Thanks,” You muttered quietly, scooping some of the food into your mouth, and you had to hold yourself back from stuffing your face.

“And to answer your question, this is my place.” Jisung spoke, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “I was out hunting when I heard gunshots, so I went to investigate. That’s when I found you unconscious at the bottom of the drop.” He explained and you watched him, “I saw you were bleeding pretty heavily, so I brought you back here and fixed up your wounds. You’re lucky, by the way, had that bullet been any lower, it would’ve hit your heart.” He pointed at the bandages on your chest, and you glanced down before looking back at him for any signs that he was lying, but you found none.

You hummed softly, finishing the food that was on the plate before setting it on the nightstand. “How long was I out?”

“Two, almost three days.” His words made your heart drop, and you looked at him with wide eyes before shoving the blankets off your body and standing to your feet. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Where’s my stuff?” You asked, ignoring him as your eyes searched the room, ignoring the pain in your chest.

“You’re gonna bust your stitches, what’s the rush?” Jisung asked, eyebrows scrunched together as he watched you move about the room before stopping and looking back at him.

“I need to get to the capital, they took him there, and I need to stop them before he gets hurt.” You started rambling, running your fingers through your hair. Jisung didn’t understand who you were talking about, but could tell that you were trying to get to the capital.

“The capital is about a week away on foot, but I have a vehicle.” He started causing you to look at him in confusion, “which means we can easily catch up, so please stop moving so much before you ruin my hard work.” Jisung’s words held a hint of sas as he crossed his arms over his chest, eyes never leaving your form, worried that you would actually bust your stitches.

You opened your mouth, wanting to protest because you wanted to reach Yeosang as soon as possible. Seeing your hesitation, Jisung’s arms dropped, and he let out a sigh, pointing to the window where you could clearly see the sun setting.

“It’s gonna be dark soon, so you’ll be walking blind.” He stated, and you felt your heart lurch because you knew he was right, “Also, do you even know where the capital building is?” You felt your body stiffen at his question; it finally dawned on you that you never knew where the capital building was, just the direction it was in. Jisung nodded his head at your silence, “thought so. Look, I’ll take you there, but we leave in the morning, and I’ll help you find whoever it is you’re looking for since you’re injured.”

You swallowed thickly as you looked at him, and you knew he was right. Leaving now would just mean you would be offering yourself up to whatever was out there. Plus, if you had the help, it would make finding Yeosang that much easier. So with a soft sigh, you nod your head, dragging yourself back to the bed and sitting down on the edge, hands in your lap.

“There’s more food if you’re still hungry, and I can help change your bandages. The wound on the back of your arm looked infected, so I have antibiotics.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and you glanced up at him, a solemn expression on your face. You didn’t say a word as you rose to your feet, following him out of the room.

As he was changing your badges, you could only wish that time would move faster so you could leave and find Yeosang before anything bad happened.

-

The next morning, you were up early, having not slept much the night before. Jisung wasn’t too far behind you as he walked out to the living room, seeing you standing by the window, watching. He cleared his throat, causing you to jump slightly.

“Here’s your stuff.” He held out your backpack, your bat attached to the side of it. In his other hand was your pistol, still in its holster. You walked over, taking your gun from him first and latching it to your belt once more before grabbing your bag. “I need to grab a few things, then we can head out.”

You nodded your head before turning and walking to the couch while he disappeared into the kitchen. Opening your bag, you grabbed one of your hoodies that was folded neatly inside, setting it to the side and zipping the bag once more. Your fingers then brushed over the bandage on your chest. The pain was dull now, but you were still careful as you pulled your hoodie over your head.

After your hoodie was on, you pulled your backpack on once more, mindful of the strap over your wound. Jisung walked into the room as you were adjusting the straps, slinging a bag of his own over his shoulder, and walking over to the door where his shotgun was sitting.

“You ready?” He asked, glancing back at you, and you gave him a nod as you walked up to him. Opening the door he let you go first before shutting it behind him and latching the lock. He then unlocked the doors of the jeep that was sitting in the driveway.

Once you were both in the car, Jisung pulled out of the driveway, and you set off to the capital. The ride was quiet, and nothing was said between the two of you. The only noises were the wind blowing through the open windows and the quiet hum of the stereo. 

Your arm was propped on the window seal, chin resting on top of your fist as you watched the trees pass by in a blur. After a few moments, you turned your head, glancing over at Jisung, whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely audible over the wind, but Jisung still heard you, and he looked over for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the road.

“Don’t mention it,” He hummed, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, a thoughtful look on his face. “Who are you looking for?”

Images of Yeosang flashed across your mind, and you averted your gaze, guilt creeping up your spine.

“He…” You weren’t even sure how to explain it without sounding like an absolute nutjob, but you inhaled sharply through your nose before continuing. “His name is Yeosang. I was sent on a mission to deliver him to the capital because he’s immune to the virus.” You started, and Jisung’s eyes went wide as he looked over at you, but his eyes softened as he saw the conflicted look in your eyes. “It was all a ruse, though, the mayor’s way of getting rid of me, but somewhere along the way…” Your voice trailed on, eyes going back to the scenery outside.

“You didn’t want to take him anymore.” Jisung finished for you, and your gaze shifted to him, eyes slightly wide. His eyes flickered over to you for a split second. “Is he your boyfriend?”

His question caught you off guard, your face growing warm and the tips of your ears burning, “N-No… Yes? I don’t know.” You stumbled over your words before slumping back in your seat, because just like you had said, you didn’t know. Your emotions were all over the place, and you couldn’t quite place what it was that you were feeling for Yeosang.

Jisung chuckled softly, his head turning to look at you as you picked at the skin around your fingernails.

“Word of advice.” His voice was soft as he spoke, “From the sounds of it, you care about him, and if you find someone who you care about like that, then hold onto them. Tight. Because sometimes they’re the only thing that make this fucked up world more bareable.”

His words rang loudly in your head; it was as if he were talking from his own heart, and you didn’t miss the distant gleam in his eyes as he spoke. Your heart then suddenly felt at ease, and things started to become clearer to you. What you felt for Yeosang wasn’t sympathy or protectiveness like you had originally thought. No, it was something deeper, because somewhere along the way, you had fallen for the redhead. Hard.

The car was then filled with silence once more, but there was a nagging question that was biting at the back of your brain. One that you weren’t sure if you’d be crossing a boundary, but your lips were moving before you could even stop yourself.

“Do you have someone like that?” You instantly facepalmed yourself when you noticed Jisung’s grip tightening around the steering wheel, but his face stayed relaxed. Swallowing thickly, you shifted in your seat, muttering an apology.

Jisung just shook his head, “It’s alright, but I did…” He stopped himself, eyebrows scrunched together, “I do.”

His words left you confused, but you decided that it would be against your better judgment to pry, so you just left it.

“That’s why I offered to take you, I’m hoping maybe along the way I’ll find him.” He explained you just listened quietly, not really wanting to risk overstepping any boundaries.

Then just like that, a still silence fell over the two of you, not awkward, but not quite comfortable either. However, you just turned your head to look out the window, keeping an eye out for Yeosang or Jihoon and his men. But you were sure that they had been given a vehicle to cut their time down.

Thankfully, the roads were mostly clear, making the path to the capital relatively quick, plus with the speed Jisung was driving, it cut the time almost in half. According to the clock on the dashboard, it was sometime after four in the afternoon when the car pulled up to the capital building.

Jisung pulled the car to a stop right in front of the gate, rolling down his window to allow the guard to look in. He was ready to answer any questions the guard was gonna throw at him like they usually do, but as soon as the guard's eyes landed on you, he backed away from the car.

“Open the gates!” He shouted, and the loud screech of metal filled the air, but as you looked over, you caught Jisung’s confused expression.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyebrows scrunched together.

“They’ve never done that,” Jisung answered, pulling into the compound slowly, fingers tight around the steering wheel. His words caused a sense of dread to wash over your body, your eyes darting around as you noticed people staring, whispering among themselves.

“Something’s not right.” You muttered as Jisung pulled the car to a halt, putting it in park and looking over at you with the same uneasy gleam in his eyes.

“Yeah, let’s be careful, who knows what they’re planning?” He muttered quietly, pulling the keys from the ignition and getting out of the jeep. You followed closely behind, shutting the door and looking around you as you opened the back, but Jisung stopped you. “They won’t let you bring anything in, push it under the seat so they can’t see it,” Jisung told you from the other side of the car, and you did as he said, unstrapping your gun and tucking it in the pocket of the passenger seat.

After everything was shoved away, you shut the door and waited for Jisung to join you before walking towards the tall building in front of you. He shoved the car keys into his pocket, head on a swivel as he walked beside you.

Entering the building, you were met with a gust of cold air, goosebumps rising on your skin, and that sense of unease grew. Scanning the area, you noticed multiple people wearing lab coats, while others wore the same striped pajamas that patients typically wear.

“C’mon,” Jisung whispered, grabbing your forearm gently and walking further inside. However, you didn’t get too far when you were stopped by a doctor.

His blonde hair was slicked back, not a single hair out of place, and a pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. Then he offered you a smile, one that sent chills down your spine, and your heart started racing under your ribs.

“Welcome, I’m Dr. Park Seonghwa.” He greeted the two of you, his eyes moving over to Jisung, and a flicker of recognition gleamed in his eyes, “Jisung, we weren’t expecting you until next week.”

“I’m here with her.” Jisung’s voice was taunt, filled with uncertainty as he looked at the man standing before you.

Seonghwa hummed, his eyes moving back down to you, “What can we do for you?”

“I’m looking for someone; he was brought here.” Your voice was strong as you squared your shoulders, “his name is Yeosang.”

“Ah, I know who you’re talking about.” He nodded his head, pushing his glasses further up his face, “But I do have to apologize, he’s no longer here.” His words felt like a punch to the gut. There was no way that he couldn’t be here. You bit down on your tongue as you asked what he meant, and he let out a sigh. “He was brought in by some guards a few days ago, and we were able to get what we needed from him, so we let him leave.” He explained, but there was something about his words that just didn’t sit right with you.

If Yeosang was really the key to a cure, there was no way they would just let him ‘leave’, and you knew Jihoon wouldn’t let him go alive. Your eyes narrowed slightly, but you said nothing, and Jisung looked at the blonde doctor with a raised eyebrow.

“You know what, for your troubles, why don’t you stay here for the night? Then we’ll give you some supplies in the morning on your way out.” Seonghwa offered, and you swore you saw a flicker of a smirk on his lips, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“No th–” “That would be amazing.” You injected Jisung as he started to decline, grabbing his forearm and tugging him back slightly.

“Perfect, I’ll have someone show you to your rooms.” Seonghwa nodded before turning to wave down a nurse nearby.

“One room is fine.” You told him not wanting to be separated in case something happened, and Seonghwa looked at you, shocked, but didn’t say a word before telling the nurse to take the two of you to a spare room.

You and Jisung followed silently behind the nurse, but your eyes were everywhere but ahead of you. Mentally note doors that looked off, the entrance to the staircase, and any exits that you saw. You were going to get out of here with Jisung and Yeosang.

“Here’s your room, there’s food down in the cafeteria if you get hungry.” The nurse turned, pointing to a door with a small smile. You thanked her before opening the door and pulling Jisung inside, letting the door close behind you. Keeping quiet, you noticed that the nurse didn’t move from her spot for a few moments; then, finally, you heard her footsteps start to retreat. Once she was gone, you looked over at Jisung, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“You don’t really believe what he was saying, do you?” He asked, and you shook your head immediately.

“Absolutely not.” You looked around the room; it was pristine white, with minimal decorations, and a queen bed against the middle of the far wall. “But we can’t raise any suspicions, we need to make sure Yeosang is okay.”

“Right.” Jisung nodded, raking his fingers through his hair, “There’s definitely someth–”

You quickly covered his mouth as you heard hushed voices right outside the door. Looking down, you noticed shadows creeping in from underneath. Jisung looked at you with wide eyes but said nothing as you pointed towards the bathroom. Nodding, he pulled your hand away from his face and walked with you to the bathroom. You quietly shut the door before turning to face Jisung, who was standing on the other side of the room, his arms crossed.

“They’re definitely lying about letting him go. We need to find him and get the hell outta dodge.” You explained while Jisung just listened, “but we need to be careful because who knows what’s going on here.”

“Let’s wait until nightfall, they’ll probably think we actually believe them if we wait.” Jisung started, “I don’t know a lot about this building, but I know there’s a lab in the basement, and I can bet just about everything that’s where they have him.”

You nodded, thinking back to the things you saw on the way up here, “Okay, at the end of the hall, there's a stairwell, which will probably take us down to the basement…” Together, the two of you came up with a plan to sneak in without raising any alarms; however, the tricky part was going to come after you got to Yeosang.

“As soon as you pull any wires, there will probably be alarms, so we’ll have to move quickly.” Jisung told you and you nodded, “We also need a distraction so we can get out, but leave that to me. I can set off their alarms, which will alert the undead nearby.”

You looked at him with concern, “Will you be able to get out?”

“Don’t worry about me, your job is to make sure you get back to the car with Yeosang.” He told her, a stern undertone in his voice causing you to sigh, knowing it would be pointless to argue.

“Okay.” You nodded, and Jisung pulled the keys out of his pocket before placing them in your hand. The cool metal felt heavy in your palm as uncertainty clouded your mind. But you shook your head, determined to make it out of here alive and unharmed.

-

Once the sun was down and the stars hung high in the sky, you and Jisung got ready to put your plan into action. You moved over to the door, pressing your ear against the wooden door, listening for voices, but when you heard none, you carefully opened it. Peeking out, you made sure no one was around before walking out, Jisung following close behind.

The two of you crept down the halls, quick on your feet but also keeping an eye out. You made it to the end of the hall but quickly grabbed Jisung’s arm, pulling him against the wall as you heard voices. You held your breath as two nurses walked down the hall, talking about something you couldn’t quite understand. Both of you watched with bated breath as they continued walking down the hall until they finally disappeared down a separate hall.

Letting out a breath, you relaxed your shoulders and looked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. When you saw no signs of anyone, you waved Jisung to come on, and you jogged down the hall towards the staircase.

Jisung opened the door and let you in first before following, making sure the door shut with minimal noise. The staircase was cold and dark, and the only source of light was the moonlight that filtered in through the small windows. Careful not to trip, you both jogged down the stairs until you finally made it down to the basement level.

Stopping in front of the door, you wrapped your fingers around the handle, praying that they didn’t keep the door locked. As soon as you pulled down on the handle, you heard a click, and it opened with ease, causing you to let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, you felt your stomach turn; the air smelled strongly of disinfectant. Just like a lab would.

Noticing your lack of movement, Jisung grabbed your arm, tugging softly, “c’mon.”

Your tongue jutted out, wetting your lips, and you nodded before moving further down the hallway. Coming to a corner, you crouched down against the wall while Jisung stood close behind you. Both of you peeked around the corner and found a pair of guards standing in front of a shut door. You instantly recognized both of them. They were the other two men that Jihoon brought with him.

“That’s them.” You whispered quietly, looking up at Jisung, who glanced down at you with a nod. You racked your brain for any way to get around those two, but then you recalled seeing a few guards coming out of a locker room.

You pointed back down the hall that you came down, and Jisung nodded, making his way towards the room while you followed behind him. Getting to the door, you waited for someone to open the door before quickly moving and blocking it from closing, and walking in. Thankfully, no one was inside.

“Okay, I’m sure they have spare uniforms around here.” You muttered, searching the lockers and racks on one side while Jisung searched the other.

“Found some,” Jisung announced, pulling two sets of uniforms out of a closet, and you rushed over, grabbing one from him.

“I didn’t see Jihoon, so we’re gonna have to be fast and careful because he’ll recognize me the instant he sees me.” You informed Jisung as you unzipped the uniform, and he nodded.

After putting on the uniforms, you made sure to secure the mask and helmet over your head, so the chances of them recognizing you were slim. Grabbing a rifle off the wall, you slung it over your shoulder, ignoring the sting in your shoulder. Making your way out of the room, you and Jisung walked down the hall casually so as to not raise suspicion.

You swallowed thickly as you rounded the corner, walking right towards the two guards. When you got close enough, both of them looked over, raising an eyebrow.

“Evening,” Jisung greeted them with a nod of his head, and you followed suit.

“We’re here to take over. There’s food in the cafeteria.” You told them, hoping that they would buy it and would just leave. You could tell right off the bat that one of them was skeptical, eyes narrowing in on you, causing your heart to start racing.

“Oh, thank god, I’m starving.” The other guard groaned, his body relaxing, and he looked at his comrade, “c’mon man, let’s go get something to eat.” He wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him away, and you mentally sighed in relief.

You then stepped forward and started to wrap your hands around the knob, but stopped when you felt a heavy hand lay on your shoulder causing you to curse under your breath.

“Doc said no one is allowed inside.” He told you, and you clicked your tongue in annoyance, ready to tell him that he wasn’t the one giving orders, but his next words stopped you, “Actually, your voice sounds pretty familiar.”

You slowly turned around to face him, and he started reaching for your mask. Stretching your fingers out at your side, you stared up at him until his hand was just a few inches away from your face. Then, before he could make any noise, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him into you before slamming his head into the wall, knocking him unconscious. Jisung was quick to use his rifle to crack the other guard over the head, watching as his body dropped to the ground.

Without words, both of you dragged the bodies into a closet on the other side of the hall before going back to the room. With one last look around the hall, you opened the door and hurried inside, Jisung right behind you.

Inside, you could hear the deafening sound of a machine beeping, and there were counters covered in medical equipment. But what caught your eye was the curtains in the center of the room, clearly pulled closed to cover something.

You and Jisung make your way over, and Jisung pulls the curtains open, revealing what had been hidden. A small gasp fell from your lips, your stomach turning as you took in the sight before you. There, strapped down on top of the table, was Yeosang, his skin even paler than you remember. They had some weird machine hooked to both of his arms, blood flowing through the tubes.

“Oh my god,” You choked out, tears gathering in your eyes as you rushed forward, undoing all of the straps that were holding him down.

After they were undone, you went to grab the tubes in his arms, but Jisung grabbed your arm. You looked back at him with wide, teary eyes, and he let out a sigh.

“Remember, once you unhook them, an alarm will probably go off alerting them.” He reminded you, and you nodded, wiping the tears from your face.

“I know,” You confirmed before looking around, reaching over Yeosang’s body to grab cotton balls and medical tape. Tearing two pieces of tape, you worked quickly on unhooking him, covering the needle holes, and pulling the mask from his face. Then came the crucial part, you grabbed the wires that were connected to his chest, reading his vitals, and with a sharp tug, you unplugged them all.

As soon as you dropped the wires, the screen flashed red with warning signs. Moving quickly, Jisung helped you get Yeosang on your back, and you looked around, seeing a few vials of what you could only guess was the ‘cure’. You snatched them up a few before smashing the rest and rushing out of the room behind Jisung, making your way to the staircase, narrowly missing the group of soldiers rushing down the hall.

Moving up to the main floor, Jisung turned towards you, a look of determination flashing across his face.

“Alright, get back to the car with him. I’ll meet you at the meetup spot once I’m done.” He told you pointedly, and you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip softly.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You asked, and Jisung’s hard expression softened, and he offered you a small smile.

“I’ll be fine, come on.” He opened the door and ushered you out. He spared you one last glance before darting down the opposite hall.

Inhaling deeply, you situated Yeosang on your back before rushing down the hall towards the front as quickly as you could. You were nearly there, and relief started to wash over you, finally feeling like you would get out. 

Yet as you closed in, someone appeared in front of you. Coming to a halt, you glared at the blonde male in front of you. Your hold on Yeosang tightened, eyes hardening as he neared you, but when you took a step back, Seonghwa stopped.

“Get out of my way, Dr. Park.” You sneered, eyes watching his every move.

“Do you realize what you’re doing y/n?” He asked, his voice flat as he stood straight.

His calm demeanor pissed you off and your lip curled, “I know exactly what I’m doing. Now I’m not asking again, get out of my way.”

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered over to the unconscious male who was draped over your back. He had been told that you were originally the one supposed to bring Yeosang. So he came to the conclusion that you were just after the cure, “Miss y/n, I’m sure you’re upset about your prize, but how about this? You give him back to us and we’ll make sure you’re the first to get the cure?”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, in complete disbelief that he really thought you were after the cure. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a few of the vials that held this ‘cure’ he was talking about, holding them up so he could see them.

“Do you really think I’m here for the cure?” You asked, venom dripping from your words, and panic overcame Seonghwa’s features as he looked at the vials. “This is your last chance, move or I’ll smash them just like I did the rest.” You threatened, raising your hand.

Seonghwa shouted for you not to and started to lunge towards you, but threw one of the vials at his feet, watching as it burst open, the liquid pooling on the ground. Useless.

“Okay!” He exclaimed, holding his hands up, no longer thinking you were bluffing, and started to move, switching places with you. “You don’t have to do this; we can work together.” Seonghwa tried to reason with you, but you just scoffed.

“I’m not stupid,” You backed towards the doors, and Seonghwa’s eyes flickered to your hands, causing you to smirk.

Then a voice came over the intercoms, “Breach in the south wall! I repeat there’s a bre–” A blaring alarm cut the voice off, red lights flashing all around you and Seonghwa looked around in panic.

“Someone shut that the hell off!” He shouted at no one in particular before looking back at you with a crazed gleam in his eyes, but you just smirked.

You tossed the other vial in his direction, taking a moment to watch him scramble to catch it, “Good luck, Dr. Park.” Then you turned and rushed out of the building, grip on Yeosang still strong even as your muscles were starting to waver.

Running outside, you made your way back to where Jisung had parked the jeep, tearing open the back door, and you laid Yeosang in the backseat before slamming the door. Looking over your shoulder, you noticed that most of the soldiers were headed to where the breech was. Pulling the keys from your pocket, you rounded the car and jumped into the driver's seat, placing the keys in the ignition and turning it. The car roared to life, and you threw it into reverse, tearing out of the spot and turning the car.

“Alright… here we go.” You muttered to yourself as you faced the gate where you had come in; thankfully, it was open, as soldiers rushed in. Rolling your shoulders, you slammed on the gas and barreled towards the gate.

They were quick to notice you, trying to close the gate before you could get out, but you were faster. Flooring the pedal, you narrowly made it out of the gate before it slammed shut. You didn’t stop, though, speeding down the road where you were supposed to meet Jisung.

When you arrived at the meet-up spot, you killed the engine and lights, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You glanced behind you, checking on Yeosang, who was still out. With a sigh, you peeled off the guard uniform, tossing it out the window along with the helmet and mask.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, you looked out the window and saw Jisung jogging towards the vehicle. Letting out a sigh of relief, you turned the car back on, putting it in drive just as he climbed into the passenger seat and took off down the road.

“Glad to see you made it out in one piece.” You teased, and Jisung chuckled, still trying to catch his breath.

“I told ya I’d be fine.” He joked before looking in the backseat, where Yeosang was still lying down. Turning, he opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when you let out a pained groan, hand flying to your chest.

Jisung’s eyes go wide, and he hits the cabin light switch, illuminating the dark car. He curses under his breath as he takes in your blood-soaked shirt.

“You’re stitches busted,” He told you, and you looked down quickly, seeing that your hand was covered in blood, and you gritted your teeth. “Pull over, I need to restitch it.”

“It’s fine.” You told him, trying to ignore the searing pain that was blooming in your chest, “We need to get away.”

“Y/n, this isn’t something you can just shake off. You will bleed out in that seat you’re sitting in.” His tone was stern as he looked at you, “They’re far too worried about keeping the zombies out to come after us right now.” He added in and you glanced over at him, fingers tightening around the steering wheel once more, “Do you really wanna bleed out before he wakes up?”

Your heart lurched when he pointed behind both of you, your eyes flickering to the rear view mirror, seeing Yeosang lying there. Swallowing thickly, you nodded, pulling off to the side of the road, “Okay.”

You sat next to the bed where Yeosang was lying down. It had been about three days since you got back from the capital. The redhead had yet to show any signs of waking up, and Jisung told you that they probably gave him a pretty strong sedative, and it should wear off on its own. 

Reaching forward, you brush a few strands of hair out of his face, humming softly, “Wake up soon, Yeo.”

There was a knock at the door, causing you to look over as Jisung walked into the room, a plate of food in his hand. Walking over, he hands you the plate and you take it before setting it down on the nightstand.

“It’s not gonna be safe for you guys to stay here,” He started standing next to you as he looked down at you, hands shoved in his pockets, “there’s this bunker that I used to go to when I was a kid, no one knows about it so you should be safe there.”

Your lips curled inward as you nodded. You knew that he was right; the people from the capital and from your compound would be out looking for you as soon as word got out. Then it dawned on you, he didn’t mention himself.

“What about you?” You asked, glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I can’t leave yet.” His voice was barely above a whisper, a gloom settling over his features, “I have to stay here just in case he comes back.” He explained, and you didn’t have to ask to know that he was talking about the same person from the drive to the capital, “but I’ll come find you guys when he comes.”

Your heart twisted in your chest because deep down, once you left this house, the chances of seeing Jisung again were slim to none. 

Letting out a soft sigh, “we’ll be wa–”

A loud gasp was heard next to you, Yeosang’s body shooting up, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You placed your hand over your chest as your heart started beating a million miles an hour, but when you noticed the panic on Yeosang’s face, you moved to sit on the side of the bed.

“Yeo.” You spoke softly, but it didn’t seem like he heard you, his eyes looking everywhere around the room. “Yeosang.” Your voice came out a bit firmer as you grabbed his arm, and that’s when he finally looked at you, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You squeezed his arm gently, a small smile creeping onto your lips, “It’s okay.” 

His hand reached out shakily, fingers brushing over the skin of your cheek, and his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that this was some sick dream.

“Am I dead?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at his starstruck expression, tears pooling in your eyes and relief flooding your veins. “No, you’re very much alive.” You told him, sniffling as you held back your tears.

“Plus, I think I’d be walking around headless if anything happened to you,” Jisung jokes, causing you to roll your eyes.

Yeosang’s eyes flickered up to the brunette who was standing behind you, eyebrows scrunched together as he looked back at you. Noticing his gaze, you shifted on the bed a bit, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Yeosang, this is Jisung.” You introduced the men to each other, and Yeosang gave him a curt nod, a familiar, unreadable expression returning to his features. Jisung returned the nod before looking over at you, saying that he would be in the kitchen if you needed anything.

As soon as the door was closed, Yeosang leaned forward, grabbing your biceps, “Are you okay?”

However, the small hiss of pain that fell from your lips caused him to let go, guilt flashing across his face. Noticing you reached out, grabbing his hand into yours, “I’m okay, I promise. I’m more worried about you.” You told him a small pout forming on your lips and Yeosang’s jaw clenched trying to stop himself from leaning forward to kiss you.

“You lost quite a bit of blood over the span of a few days while you were there.” You started, and Yeosang just squeezed your hand in reassurance, “Jisung said that it would take a bit for you to get your full strength back.” At the mention of the brunette, Yeosang pulled away from you, his hand slipping out of yours, confusing you.

“You two seem pretty close.” He grumbled, eyes focused on the wall on the other side of the room.

Your confusion suddenly melted away as you finally understood, and a smirk spread across your lips, “Jisung saved me, so I’m grateful that’s all. As for who I like, I already have someone.” You told him and watched as his jaw tightened.

“Really? Then is there someone else here?” He asked, hurt laced in his tone and you had to bite your lip to keep the shiteating grin off your face.

You situated yourself on the bed before crawling slowly towards him, “No, there isn’t.” Your tone was low, and Yeosang’s eyebrows scrunched together, trying to figure out what you meant, because who else could you like if there was no one else in the house?

“Wha–” His breath hitched in his throat as he turned his head to find you mere inches away from him.

“It’s you, you dummy.” You teased before leaning forward, pressing a kiss against his lips, soft and gentle, waiting to see how he’d react.

Yeosang’s mind went blank as soon as your lips touched his; those previous thoughts and hurt dissipating as he kissed you back. His hands found your hips, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss. You shifted until you were perched in his lap, hands cupping his face while his fell to your thighs.

Breaking the kiss, he looked up at you with hooded eyes, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, “Is this okay? I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was husky, causing a chill to run down your spine.

You laid your forehead against his, “It’ll be fine.” You promised as you leaned in to kiss him again, this kiss relaying all of your built-up feelings and emotions. He recuperated the kiss, leaning forward as his hands trailed up your hips, slipping under your shirt.

Goosebumps littered your skin as he grasped your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you felt him hardening underneath you. A soft moan fell from your lips as you rolled your hips against his, the feeling sending jolts all throughout your body.

“Are you gonna be able to be quiet this time, love?” Yeosang teased, and your face flushed bright red as you recalled your first time at the river. Chucking softly, he kissed your jaw before leaning in until his lips brushed your ear, “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s cute.”

“Yeo.” You whined, embarrassment creeping up your spine, and he just laughed before placing feather-light kisses along your neck, the sensation making you squirm. Your hands fell to his shoulders as those light kisses turned into wet, open-mouthed kisses. He made sure there were a few deep purple spots left behind before pulling away, fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt.

He was careful as he pulled the fabric over your head, leaving you in your jeans and bra, and he inhaled deeply as he took you in. His hands found your hips once more, leaning in to place gentle kisses all over your chest, even over your bandage, causing you to whine softly.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered against your skin, and your fingers curled into his shirt as he kissed the top of your breast. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait, sweetheart, I need you.”

“Me too,” You breathed out, head falling back when his hands cupped your ass, “I need you Yeo. So bad.”

The whiny tone of your voice was driving Yeosang insane, his grip growing tighter on your ass as you rolled your hips against his now hard cock. He then pulled away, fingers popping open the button of your jeans before helping you shimmy out of them and your underwear.

Groaning, he pulled you back into his lap, hands exploring your bare skin as you pulled him back into a mind-shattering kiss. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, and you parted them without any restraint, allowing him to completely invade your mouth. Trailing his fingers up the inside of your thigh he cupped your pussy, finger dipping between your folds eliciting a moan from your swollen lips.

“Fuck you’re drenched.” He gritted his teeth as he felt his dick twitch, begging to be released from it confieds and buried in your heat. You pulled away from him, hands going down to his jeans, undoing the button.

“I wanna ride you, please.” You begged, looking at him with misty eyes and Yeosang felt as if he could cum from that sight alone. He released your hips, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Of course, pretty, but you’ve gotta really be quiet this time.” He teased and you pouted softly causing him to chuckle before helping you pull his jeans and underwear off, his cock standing tall and you wrapped your fingers around him. As soon as your fingers touched his aching cock he let out a groan, head falling back and he grabbed your wrist as you started to jerk him off. “No teasing.” He warned, and you bit your lip softly but nodded nonetheless, releasing your grip.

“This, too.” You tugged at his shirt, moving further up his lap, and Yeosang was happy to oblige. He pulled the fabric off his body, throwing it over to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your eyes fell to his scarred skin, fingers tracing the rigid skin. You could clearly see where he had been bitten before, and all sorts of other wounds you could only guess were from knives.

Leaning forward, he placed one last kiss on your lips, pulling your gaze away from his body before whispering, “c’mon, ride me, sweetheart.”

He watched as your face grew a brighter shade of red, but you still rose up on your knees using one hand to steady yourself on his shoulder and using the other to grab his dick, lining his tip with your leaking slit. As if on instinct, his hand came up to cover your mouth as you lowered yourself onto him, muffling the loud cry of his name that fell from your lips. He gritted his teeth as your tight heat slowly started to envelope his cock.

“Shit.” He cursed, fingers digging into your hip to ground himself, but the way your tears escaped from the corner of your eyes and over his hand almost made him lose himself entirely. “You’re driving me insane, sweetheart.” He growled as you sank down on him fully, your fingers lying on his chest.

“Yeo.” You mewled, body trembling in his lap as he stretched you open. This position had him reaching even deeper than last time and leaving you completely breathless. It took you a few moments to catch your breath before you rolled your hips slowly.

“You feel so good, love,” Yeosang groaned, leaning forward, latching his lips onto the supple skin of your neck. His hand slipped from your lips, down to your back, and wrapped his finger around the claps of your bra, undoing it. Pulling the straps off your arms, he let your breast pop free, his eyes locked on your chest as you continued to roll your hips, soft mewls falling from your lips.

Your breath hitched in your throat when his lips wrapped around your nipple, hips shuddering at the sudden increase of pleasure. Your brain was starting to turn to mush as every drag of his cock had him hitting all of the right places. A moan fell past your lips as your head fell back, one of your hands treading through Yeosang’s hair as he pulled away from your chest with a wet ‘pop’, hazy eyes looking up at you.

“Come on, sweetheart,” He cooed softly, planting a kiss under your jaw, his hand gripping your hips, “Ride me. Use me.” 

You bite your lip, tilting your head to meet his eyes with that same misty-eyed look that drives him absolutely insane. Lifting your hips, you dropped back down, shockwaves shooting throughout your body. Muffled moans and whines filled the room as you rode him, your pace still slow and Yeosang was fighting demons to not just grab your hips and fuck up into you.

“Yeo–” You choked out as he brushed over your sweet spot, causing your legs to shake, your body collapsing against his, “I can’t, it’s too much.” You whined into his neck, heat flushing your face in embarrassment.

Yeosang chuckled but kissed your shoulder regardless before whispering in your ear, “Lie against me, love.”

You did as told, wrapping one of your arms around his neck and lying against him. His hands trailed from your hips to the small of your back before he grabbed your ass. Using the plush of your ass as leverage he thrusts up into your cunt eliciting a choked moan from your lungs.

“F-Fuck!” You cried out as he set a rough pace, hitting all the right spots to leave you seeing stars. Unable to control your volume, you buried your face, his neck, hand gripping the wood of the headboard. Incoherent moans and cries of his name fell from your lips; mouth latching onto the skin of his shoulder to try and ground yourself, but his brutal pace made it damn near impossible.

Yeosang’s grip on your ass was like vice sure to leave bruises behind, a pained groan leaving his lips when he felt your teeth sink into his skin. His dick twitched and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially not if you keep squeezing him like you are.

“I’m close, fuck!” He groaned into your shoulder, and you let out a mewl before detaching your teeth from his skin and lifting yourself to look at him. You cupped his face in your hands, leaning down to kiss him, and it was anything but neat. Teeth clashing and a mess of drool.

“M-Me too.” You choked out, eyes fluttering shut as he hit that spongy spot, causing white spots to cloud your vision. Your high was right on the tip of your tongue, needing just a little bit of a push before you toppled over. Then your mind went hazy, the only thoughts being how good he felt in you and how you wanted more, “Cum in me Yeo, please. I need to feel you.” 

Your pleading tone had his mind spiraling, eyes locked on yours as he continued to fuck up into you. Seeing that same begging gleam in your eyes was enough to lose the last bit of sanity he had left. His grip tightened, and his pace became relentless, leaving you gasping for breath.

“You want me to fill you up, hmm?” He growled in your ear as your head fell to his chest, “Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You cried out as he landed a few more harsh thrusts, and as his tip abused your cervix, you felt that cord snap and your high came crashing over you. Broken and incoherent cries of his name fell from your lips as your body shook in his hold.

Yeosang gritted his teeth as you tighten around his cock almost making it hard to pull out. His gut tightening as he fucked your through your high. Then when he heard the soft sobs of his name leave your lips his dick twitched before he painted your velvet walls white. He held your body close to his as he came deep in your womb, breathing erratically.

Both of you lay there, slowly coming down from your highs, your eyes drooped, threatening to close. Opening his eyes, Yeosang moved his hands to your hips, massaging the taut muscle, causing you to sigh, your body melting more into his.

“C’mon, love, let’s get you cleaned up, then we can sleep.” He spoke softly, easily lifting your body despite your whine in protest. Your whole body shivered as he pulled out of your spent cunt, leaving behind the feeling of his cum oozing out.

You just lay there, half asleep, as Yeosang stood from the bed to find his boxers. Once he had them on, he grabbed a rag that was sitting on the nightstand and gently grabbed your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Your droopy eyes watched as he cleaned you up before he pulled your underwear up your legs and over your hips. With a smile, he grabbed your arms and pulled you up until you were sitting, a pout forming on your lips.

“You’re cute.” He teased, kissing you softly, and you hummed, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. He helped you pull his shirt on and then climbed back in bed with you in his arms.

You lay on his chest, fingers drawing shapes on his skin absentmindedly as you pondered everything. Letting out a huff, you lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, so you could look at him.

“I’m sorry you got captured.” Your voice was meek, and he just looked down at you for a moment before resting his hand on top of your head.

“It’s not your fault, love, plus I’m here now, aren’t I?” He asked, a smile pulling on the corner of his lips, when you nodded.

“Yes, and I’m not gonna let anything happen to you again.” You stated before laying your head back down on his chest, your hold on his body was tight, scared that if you let go even a little bit, he’d slip away.

Yeosang looked at you in admiration, knowing very well that he wouldn’t be where he is right now if it weren’t for you. So he hummed as he shifted, pulling your body closer to his, and his eyes closed peacefully for the first time in a long time.

-

The sun had barely started peeking over the horizon when you and Yeosang woke up. You started gathering all of your things, making sure everything was accounted for, while Yeosang sat at the kitchen table writing a letter to San and Wooyoung. He knew the chances of finding them were gonna be low, but he wanted to give them a chance to join both of you.

Once he was finished, he folded it neatly and then stood, walking over to you. Seeing him out of the corner of your eye, you turned to give him a small smile, “Ready?” 

He hummed, grabbing the bag from your hands, not giving you a chance to protest, and Jisung walked into the room with another bag in his hand.

“Here’s some food, it’s not much.” He told you a flicker of guilt flashed across his face, but you just shook your head, grabbing the bag from his outstretched hand.

“It’s perfect, thank you, Jisung.” You thanked him, then all three of you walked outside, the breeze blowing your hair all over the place.

Jisung unlocked the car for you, but barely made it off the porch when Yeosang put his hand on the brunette’s shoulder. Turning around, he looked at the redhead with a questioning gaze, but Yeosang just held up the letter.

“I know the chances aren’t likely, but if you happen to run into a few survivors, San and Wooyoung, would you give them this and say it’s from me?” He asked, his lips pulling into a tight line when Jisung looked from him to the letter. However, his shoulders relaxed when Jisung agreed, and he took the letter, putting it in his pocket. “Thank you,” 

“Don’t mention it,” Jisung shook his head before turning to watch as you situated everything in the car, your eyebrows creasing as you shut the trunk.

“Thank you for saving her.” Yeosang’s voice was quiet, but Jisung could hear the gratefulness in his tone, causing him to just shake his head softly.

“You’ve got yourself a good one, don’t lose her.” Jisung glanced back at him before turning back around and making his way towards the car, just as you called out for Yeosang.

“Come on.” You motioned for him, and he chuckled before stepping off the porch and walking towards you. He threw the bag he was holding into the backseat while you said goodbye to Jisung.

“Be safe out there.” Jisung offered you a smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and you nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“See you ‘round Jisung.” You bid him a farewell, and Yeosang gave him a curt nod before he took a step back.

He watched as Yeosang pulled you away from the driver's door by your shirt, causing you to glare at him, telling him that you could drive. A smile tugged on his lips once more as he watched the two of you bicker, memories of his past flashing in his mind. He could only hope that the two of you have all the time in the world together, to have something that he wouldn’t be able to have anymore.

“Take care of yourself, Ji.” You called out to him from the passenger side window, waving at him one last time before the car disappeared down the driveway.

Then, with a sigh, he turned and walked back to the house, the door closing softly behind him like the end of a chapter.

In the car, Yeosang glanced over at you, seeing you stare out the window, and his heart tightened in his chest. Looking back at the road, he moved his hand from the gear shift to your thigh, squeezing softly, and you looked over at him.

“Thank you for saving me.” He started, eyes glued to the road ahead, “for everything really.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, grabbing his hand in yours and bringing it to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss on the back, “I think you’ve been poked and prodded enough in this lifetime,” You joked and he chuckled, glancing over at you with a fondness that had you melting in your seat. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

Yeosang’s stomach flipped as you laid your intertwined hands in your lap, a contented smile on your lips. It was then that he swore that he would do absolutely everything in his power to make sure that you stayed safe in this fucked up world.

By the time you made it to the bunker, the sun was starting to set, meaning you only had a few more hours of sunlight to work with. You both decide to leave everything in the car and go inside to scope everything out.

“You go left, I’ll go right.” You told Yeosang as you pointed down the hall, pistol tight in your hand. He nodded, and you both split up, walking down the dimly lit hallway quietly. There were plenty of rooms on either side of the hall, so you opened each door, inspecting the rooms before moving on to the next. 

Making your way down the hall, you felt your shoulders relax when everything turned out to be clear; the only worries were the thick layer of dust that covered almost every surface, but that was something a little cleaning could fix.

Walking back to the entrance, you saw Yeosang walking towards you, a smile on his lips, and you raised an eyebrow. He stopped in front of you, shoving his gun in the holster on his hip.

“There’s running water.” He told you, and you let out a gasp of disbelief. They had cut off all of the water supply everywhere shortly after the outbreak.

“Are you serious?” You asked, and he nodded.

“Come on, let’s grab everything before it gets too dark.” He told you, placing his hand on the small of your back as you climbed the stairs to the door.

Stepping outside, you stopped, head turning as you took in the open field around you. You were sure that if you and Yeosang gathered all the supplies you’d need, this place could easily become a new sanctuary. Crossing your arms, you nodded with a determined smile while Yeosang glanced down at you, taking in the way the sunset illuminated your face.

“This place has potential.” You told the redhead, turning your head to look up at him, and he nodded.

“Y/n.” The sound of your name being called caused your shoulders to stiffen, and both of you turned, seeing a figure walking towards you, a bag hanging from their hand. 

Once he got closer, Yeosang quickly grabbed you, pulling you behind him as he drew his gun, aiming it at the man. You looked around Yeosang’s tall figure, and your eyes grew wide when you recognized who it was, Choi Seungcheol, the very guard that you hadn’t expected to see again.

“I mean no harm,” Seungcheol spoke, dropping the bag and raising his hands in the air. You slowly moved to stand next to Yeosang, who was still glaring at the man, but you carefully put your hand on top of the gun, pushing it down and telling him that it was okay. Once the weapon was lowered, Seungcheol let his hands fall to his side, eyes landing on you, “Are you okay?”

You looked at him skeptically, hand still wrapped around Yeosang’s wrist, “I’m fine. Why are you here, Seungcheol? How did you even find us?”

Seungcheol let out a sigh. “The mayor had this whole elaborate plan to use you to get him most of the way to the capital.” He started, pointing at Yeosang, who was still moments away from putting a bullet in the man’s skull. “He wanted to get rid of you, but had no probable cause, so he decided to make it seem as if you died along the way.” You felt your jaw tighten. You knew that man had something up his sleeve; that was no surprise. When you didn’t say anything Seungcheol took that as a sign to continue, “but when Jihoon made it back to the compound informing us that you were still alive and managed to break him free the mayor was enraged, went on a whole rage fit, sent me out to find you and kill you.”

Hearing his words, Yeosang’s shoulders tensed, and he grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him, and his finger wrapped around the trigger. Noticing Seungcheol let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

“Calm down, lover boy, I’m not here for that.” He told Yeosang, his face turning serious as he looked at you, “But he won’t stop until he believes that you’re actually dead.” He explained, before offering a deal, “I can tell him that you had been caught in a hoard while I was chasing you, but I need something that will make it believable.”

You let his words soak in; even now, he was helping you, just as he had in the beginning, when he warned you. Swallowing thickly, you started to think of something that you could give him, then your fingers subconsciously reached for the locket that was wrapped around your neck.

Your mother’s locket.

Ever since she gave it to you right before she turned, you have never once taken it off, let alone let anyone touch it. The mayor knew this because you freaked the hell out the one time he took it, resulting in him getting a busted lip, and that was the first time that he had actually locked you up. Your fingers tightened around the dainty chain as memories of your mother crossed your mind.

You knew your mom loved you even after all of the abuse she let you suffer. Biting your lip, you brought your shaky hands up to unclasp the hook while the two men watched you quietly. Seungcheol knew about the locket; he had been the one to bring it back to you after the mayor took it.

Yeosang gently grabbed your arm as he noticed the tears starting to fall from the corners of your eyes. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t even realized that you started crying until you looked up at him, your vision blurry. Shaking your head softly, you wiped your face, “I’m okay.” You whispered meekly before walking over to Seungcheol and holding the locket out.

Seungcheol looked at the piece of jewelry before looking back at you, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, “It’s the only thing that will make it believable.”

“Alright.” He let out a sigh, taking the locket in his gloved hand and placing it in his chest pocket. “If I can, I'll find a way to get it back to you.” He patted your shoulder as you nodded, wiping your nose, “Here.” You watched as he grabbed the bag he had dropped earlier, handing it over to you, and you grabbed it. He looked around before nodding to himself, “Take care of yourself, kid, maybe we’ll see each other again in the future.”

Yeosang walked up to you, pulling the bag from your hands and throwing it over his shoulder as the two of you watched Seungcheol walk off. You felt your chest grow tight, and your lips were moving before you realized.

“Seungcheol!” You called out for him and he stopped, looking back at you, “Thank you.”

He gave you a salute before continuing his journey back, and you watched until it disappeared back into the tree line. Once he was out of sight, you let out a heavy sigh and looked over at Yeosang with a smile, hand lying on his waist.

“Let’s get everything inside before it gets dark.” You suggested, and he nodded, following you back to the vehicle.

Dropping the bags on the metal table in the kitchen area, you rested your hands on your hips, letting everything sink in. You and Yeosang were safe and ready to start a new chapter in your lives. Then you felt a weight in your pockets.

Reaching into your pocket, your fingers wrap around the small vial before pulling it out. You lifted your hand, allowing the light to reflect off the blue translucent liquid. Noticing your movement, Yeosang looked over, but his eyes went wide as he took in the sight of the vial.

Your eyes trailed from the vial to the redhead that stood in front of you, who looked over to meet your eyes. Bringing your hand down, you let it weigh there for a moment before finally opening your mouth.

“What do you think we could do with it?”

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:19」 — c.seungcheol

» seventeen menu | s.coups menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ merman!Seungcheol × fem!Reader wc: 2.7k summary: It’s been a few weeks since Y/N last came to the small seaside town where her boyfriend resides and suffice it to say, he’s missed her greatly. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i wasn’t sure what direction i wanted to go in with this but I’m happy with the way it went. As usual, Cheol gets the daddy treatment. I swear one of these days I won’t write him with a daddy kink. It just fits so fucking well. This is kinda self indulgent but I hope my s.coups stan readers enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing! Thank you for reading. Next part of Kinktober is Wooyoung and is kinda similar to this in that he’s a siren! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), daddy kink, choking (f receiving), unprotected sex (pls use protection. Cheol doesn’t need it. He’s a merman lol), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), sex on a boat, use of pet names (babe, sweetheart, angel, pearl, etc.), and i think i got them all. if i missed any, please let me know!  kinks: Daddy kink + choking dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Baby, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.❜❜

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“Fuck,” you groaned as you pulled into a parking space. “I’m so fucking late!” You grabbed your things, rushing to get out of the car and rush to the trunk, glancing up at the sky as you pulled your suitcase out of the trunk, slamming it shut before hurrying across the parking lot.

The wind swirled around you, the smell of sea water permeating the air as you headed for the marina, suitcase in tow. The sun was beginning to set and you only had a few hours to get to the islet before sundown if you wanted to dock safely.

As you crossed the gangway, you felt a chill creep in, the clouds moving in as gulls flew overhead, calling out in successive squawks. You reached the door to the marina office, pulling it open and stepped over the threshold into the small building, smiling at the man behind the counter as he read a newspaper, looking over you with an unamused expression.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly as you walked to the counter, pulling your suitcase. “I have a reservation.” The man glanced at your suitcase, your choice of attire before he set his newspaper aside. “Name?” he asked in a monotonous voice.

As you gave him your name, he checked the book, brows raising as he found your reservation. “You’re a regular,” he noted as he started filling out the paperwork. He went over the papers, having you sign and date the appropriate documents before he handed over the keys. “I don’t think you need me to tell you to be careful,” he started. “But it’s getting rough out there,” he added.

You thanked him, promising that you weren’t going far and you’d be safe.

He showed you to the boat that was yours for the duration of your trip and went over the typical safety stuff. After a thorough last minute lesson, not that you needed it, you thanked him, boarded the boat and put your things down below in the cabin before setting off, casting off from the dock and slowly taking the boat out to sea.

You followed your GPS, remembering exactly where the islet was located.

You knew by memory how to get there but having the extra tools was nice.

The sun was at the horizon by the time the rocky shore of the small island came into view and you carefully maneuvered to the old wooden dock, tossing the rope to pull yourself parallel with the dock.

Once the boat was securely docked, you went down into the cabin to change, hoping that you weren’t too late.

Seungcheol had spent the last couple weeks patrolling the waters of the sleepy seaside town he called home. Not that he actually lived in town. No, how could he? His home was the water. He’d been expecting you to show up for two weeks now and still there had been no sign of you. Not a word, not a whisper. He was starting to get worried.

As he watched the marina, he saw no movement, the sun almost completely below the horizon. He let out a frustrated groan, diving below the surface of the icy water as he headed for the islet, hoping that maybe he just missed you and that you were already there.

As he neared the islet, he surfaced, squinting in the darkness and saw a boat moored at the dock, his heart leaping in his chest as a smile spread across his face, the urge to do a happy dance taking over him before he pushed it down and dove under the water once more, swimming straight for the boat.

You had just finished eating dinner and washed the dishes when you heard a thump against the side of your boat. Getting up from the bed, you climbed the steps to the deck, turning on the search light and moving it around, shining it over the water.

There was another thump and you quickly grabbed the handheld torch, turning it on with a click and walking over to the starboard side to peer over the railing at the water below. There was a splash and a flash of a dark shadow but you couldn’t see anything else.

Another thump came but from the port side this time, so you crossed over, about to shine a light when you heard another knock on the starboard side and you stopped, letting out a sigh of frustration.

“Choi Seungcheol, stop fucking with me,” you snapped, your voice loud in the darkness over the sound of the waves lapping at the rocks. The thumping stopped followed by the sound of someone blowing raspberries from the stern. You walked towards the back where the ladder was and peered over the edge to find looking back at you the familiar face of the man you’d come to see.

You could see his tail, scales glittering in the beam of your light.

“Stop playing around and get up here,” you said, rolling your eyes as you turned and started to head back towards the steps to the cabin. “There’s clean, dry clothes and a towel on the bridge.”

You climbed down the steps as you heard him follow you, climbing the ladder. You could hear him above deck, moving about as he dragged himself along before the sound was replaced with footsteps.

Moments later, he appeared, barefoot and dressed in the clothes you left for him as he dried his hair and joined you below deck. “Hey,” he said breathlessly. “Hi,” you said as you sat back down on the bed. He ran the towel over his hair once more as he looked around. “Nice boat,” he said as he inspected. “How long do you have it for?”

“Just the week,” you said as you picked up your laptop, continuing to scroll through the page of real estate. Seungcheol tossed the towel in the hamper and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge. You turned to look at him, the end of a pen between your teeth as you wrote down in a notebook. 

His hair was still damp, some of it sticking to his forehead. The pale blue shirt you’d given him was sticking to his body in places that had still been wet when he put it on. Your eyes roamed over his toned chest and arms, the fabric seeming to stretch over his muscles.

“So,” he started as he glanced at your screen. “Find anything yet?” he asked. You shook your head, turning your attention back to the laptop. “No,” you answered, brow furrowing as you tried to focus. “Everything is out of my price range.” You let out a sigh of frustration.

“I might have to find something outside of town…”

Seungcheol glanced at you, a frown appearing on his face. You looked at him, finding him already staring at you. “What?” you asked. “What if I got a job?” he asked. You stared at him incredulously. “A job?” you asked, clarifying that you had heard him correctly. He nodded. “I could help bring money in and then you could afford a place in town.”

You shook your head. “That would take you from the ocean,” you answered. “I’m not doing that to you,” you added as you turned your attention back to the computer screen. “I just want you close,” he admitted. You smiled at him. “I know, baby,” you replied. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

Seungcheol fell silent as you continued to scroll through the listings. He watched the way your tongue danced around the end of the pen and he felt himself starting to grow hard at the thought of your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock instead. He cleared his throat.

“Sweetheart?” he said softly.

You didn’t look at him, instead humming in response as you kept your attention focused on the screen. “I haven’t seen you in almost a year,” he continued. “Could we put the laptop away for a bit?” You glanced up at him, eyes wide. “Oh, right,” you said as you shut the laptop and set it on the shelf inside the headboard, pulling the pin from your mouth. “Sorry,” you said as you moved closer, one of your hands sliding up his bicep to the side of his neck before pulling him in for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured against your lips, one of his hands moving to the small of your back. “I missed you too,” you replied. You took his face between your hands, pulling him with you as you leaned back against the pillows, forcing him to climb over you, settling between your thighs as his tongue slipped into your mouth, caressing your own.

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Miss your face.” He kissed your neck. “Missed your voice.” He placed a kiss against your shoulder. “Missed your body.” His kisses traveled further down over your cloth covered chest and stomach. “Missed having you under me,” he groaned, bumping his nose against your mound, inhaling sharply.

“Missed tasting you, touching you, teasing you,” he said as his hands moved, grabbing the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down, pulling your panties down with them. You parted your thighs as he tossed your clothes aside licking his lips as he got an eyeful of your cunt. “Missed this,” he whispered, parting your folds and running his tongue from your slit to your clit, letting out a groan at the taste of you.

You let out a moan, head falling back as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly before teasing with his tongue in slow circles and licks. Your fingers combed through his hair as your chest rose and fell with your breathing. “Cheollie,” you moaned, stroking his hair as he continued to make out with your pussy, lewdly licking and slurping at your clit as he groaned against you.

“Cheollie,” you breathed out again, back arching slightly as he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Hmm?” he answered. “I need you, baby,” you whined. Seungcheol chuckled, flattening his tongue as he pressed it against your clit, shaking his head, looking at you with dark eyes, pupils blown with lust as he continued to lick and suck. 

“Cheollie,” you whined. He pulled back “That’s not my name, baby,” he said in a stern voice. “You know what to call me.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Daddy please,” you whined. Seungcheol’s response was immediate, his tongue back on you in an instant. It didn’t take him long to have you on the edge once more, holding your hips down as his tongue played with your clit until you finally came, thighs squeezing his head as he lapped at your cunt repeatedly.

He finally pulled away, moving his hands to undo his shirt, shrugging it off and throwing it to the floor before moving to undo the ties of his shorts, pushing them down as well, his thick cock springing back up as it was freed.

He kicked the shorts to the floor as you sat up before ripping your shirt off over your head, laying your bare body back against the sheets as he moved between your thighs. He took his cock in his hand, giving himself a few languid strokes as he lined the tip with your entrance.

“You ready, baby?” he asked. You hummed in response, wiggling your hips, silently begging for him to finally give in and sink his thick cock into your aching cunt. Seungcheol let out an exasperated sigh, leaning forward to grab your face, squishing your cheeks together.

“Baby, I asked you a question. If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”

You nodded. “Y-yes daddy,” you murmured, looking back up at him with excited eyes. Seungcheol pulled back, pressing the head of his cock against your slit, keeping his eyes trained on you and holding your gaze as he started to lean forward.

You groaned as he pushed into you. Once his cockhead was nestled in your cunt, he moved his hands to the backs of your thighs, pushing them against you as he sank further into your walls, his thick cock filling your pussy and dragging against your walls until he bottomed out.

“God I missed you,” he breathed out, eyes fluttering shut as he rested, letting you adjust to the intrusion. It had been over a year since you’d been intimate and the first time always stung due to his size. Your hand moved over his, sliding up to his forearm and giving it a slight squeeze.

“Okay, daddy,” you moaned. “I’m ready.”

Seungcheol pulled back with a sigh before sinking his cock back into you, letting out a groan as he filled you with one, slow stroke. “Fuck, princess,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight around daddy’s cock.” He gave you another thrust before setting a steady pace, pumping in and out of your tight heat. 

Sex with your boyfriend was always an experience as he preferred quality over quantity. It wasn’t about how many strokes it took to have you coming undone but how well he angled those strokes or how hard they were. If he wanted, he could have you cumming on his cock in as little as ten thrusts. He’d done it before. He knew your body better than anyone, even you.

The first time you had sex had been on the beach in the dead of night. One minute, he’d taken you out to a hidden cove to look at the stars and the next he was balls deep inside you, murmuring between kisses how much he loved you. It had been a rather sandy affair and he promised the next time, he’d plan a little better.

The next time, he didn’t plan better and ended up fucking you roughly against some rocks from behind half in the water. That was the first time he fucked you without changing, his cock emerging from its sheath inside his body. He found you quite liked that and thought it was extremely erotic. Any chance he got to fuck you in his true form, he took it, even if it meant you had to be partially submerged.

The next time he got you naked, was on the boat you were renting at the time. It was smaller and more cramped but he enjoyed every second of it. It was around that time that he discovered you had a few particularly interesting likes in the bedroom so to speak.

He learned that you liked being dominated. You loved being held down and pleasured until you couldn’t take it anymore. You loved when he wrapped his fingers around your throat or filled your mouth with them. You showed him quickly that you liked it raw, filthy, and were open to a lot of new things.

Seungcheol let out a growl as your walls clamped around his cock as you teetered on the edge, moaning for him over and over in a chant like you were in prayer. Your hand found his, grabbing his wrist and guided his hand to your throat. 

His fingers squeezed, cutting off the oxygen to your brain and you finally came, crying out for him, cunt convulsing around his thick cock. He fucked you through it before setting a faster more rough pace, pounding into you. You’d gotten yours and now it was his turn.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he groaned, slamming into you as he kept a tight hold on your throat. “Likes it when daddy chokes her until she cums. Can you give me another one?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin against yours.

You nodded, head lolling as his thrusts grew in intensity and power. “Then give me another, baby. Cum on daddy’s cock.” Your thighs shook as you tried to close them but Seungcheol kept a tight hold on you, one hand on your thigh, the other on your neck as he fucked you through another orgasm before he finally came, releasing into you with a groan as his hot seed filled your walls.

He continued to thrust a few more times before he finally stilled, panting as he released your throat, his hand moving back to your thigh to spread your legs open as he looked down where his cock disappeared into your hole, a ring of cum around the base of his cock.

“You made a mess all over daddy’s cock, princess,” he murmured. You looked up at him through half open eyes as he looked up to meet your gaze. “Sorry, daddy,” you breathed. “S’okay, baby,” he said with a smile as he slowly pulled out of you.

“I like it when you make a mess.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[nothoughtsjustfic]

A.= Angst. Adv.= Adventure. C.= Comedy/Crack. D.= Dark Themes. Dy.= Dystopian/Apocalyptic. F.= Fluff. Fa.= Fantasy. H.= Horror. S.= Smut/Suggestive. Sci.= Sci-fi. Su.= Supernatural. T.=Thriller.

Vampire/monster/ghost/spirit = Supernatural Magic/fairy/elf/pirate = Fantasy Alien/space/robot/futuristic = Sci-Fi Anything with morally grey/no moral characters/death/heavy themes etc = Dark Themes

💭Thinking about: C.SC in lingerie 0.6k. S. Established Relationship. 18+

🐢Finding Yourself 50.3k total. A. D. F. S. Mafia au. Strangers to Friends to Lovers. Mafia boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Kid Hansol. Kid Chan. 18+. Teaser - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Complete

🩸Hunted 2.4k. D. Su. Vampire Jeonghan.

🌳Swallow 3.4k. D. Fa. H. S. Fae Jisoo. 18+.

🎥 Home Early 0.9k. A. Established Relationship.

🛸Wild Goose Chase 2k. C. Sci. Established Relationship. Alien Junhui.

🎥Wanna See My Wiener? 1k. C. S. Strangers to Lovers. 18+.

💭Thinking about: Best friends to lovers with K.SY 1.5k. A. F. Best friends to lovers.

🩸Super Freak 5.8k. C. D. S. Su. Strangers to roommates. Serial killer(ish) au. Human Soonyoung. Monster Reader. 18+.

🐯Befriending Tigers 8.8k. A. C. F. S. Single parent au. Neighbour au. Single dad Soonyoung. 18+.

🐆The Only Exception 3.9k. D. Fa. Hybrid Wonwoo. Mafia member reader.

💎Whatever You Want 31.8k total. A. C. D. F. S. Mafia au. Strangers to friends to lovers. 18+. Part One - Part Two - Complete

🎥Worthless 0.9k. S. Established relationship. 18+.

💭Thinking about: Nursery school teacher L.JH 1.9k. C. F. S. Established Relationship. Nursery school teacher Jihoon. Single parent reader. 18+.

🦆Precious 11.8k. A. F. Single Parent au. Nursery school teacher Jihoon. Single parent reader. Prequel to "Thinking about: Nursery school teacher L.JH".

🕐Hope 3.3k. A. D. Su. Vampire au. Human Jihoon. Vampire reader.

🧶Pretty Boy 4.6k. F. S. Established Relationship. 18+.

💭Thinking about: Meet cute with single parent L.SM 2k. F. Single dad Seokmin.

🎥It's Not Enough 1k. A. Established relationship.

🥩Beat My Meat 3.3k. A. C. F. Friends to lovers.

💭Thinking about: Nanny K.MG 2.4k. F. S. Nanny Mingyu. Single parent reader. 18+.

💭Thinking about: Hairdresser X.MH 2.4k. F. Friends to lovers. Co-Workers au.

🎤Sweet Lullaby 3.1k. F. Fa. Su. Established Relationship. Siren Seungkwan.

🎥 Property of Boo Seungkwan 1k. S. Brother's best friend. 18+.

🐚Poor, Unfortunate Soul 3.1k. D. Fa. The Little Mermaid au. Tentacle monster Hansol. Mermaid Reader.

🎥Tiny Pieces 1k. A. Established Relationship.

🐺Instinctive 3.3k. S. Su. Neighbour au. Werewolf Chan. 18+.

Multi member/ No specific member.

⚓The Adventure of a Lifetime (masterlist) - ongoing Seventeen member x female reader. A. Adv. C. D. F. Fa. S. Su. Pirate au series. 18+.

For more of my work from before 2025, you can look on my old account @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Updated: 22/06/2025.

[hansrkive]

THE WOMEN OF HANNAM-DONG (C.SC — 18+)

CHAPTER 1 — THE HOMECOMING

The neighborhood of Hannam-dong, or as tourists would call, "the land of the rich", is a place where you can visit and relax. You would think, a small neighborhood like Hannam-dong wouldn't hoard any dark secrets. That everyone that lives there were innocent. Well you're wrong. In this small neighborhood, everyone knows everyone. If you think your secret is safe, you're wrong. They'll find out, whether you like it or not.

THIS BOOK HAS MULTIPLE CHAPTERS WITH THE POSSIBILITY OF IT BECOMING A SERIES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

౨ৎ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x song hyeri (afab!oc)

౨ৎ GENRE: angst, thriller, and murder-mystery.

౨ৎ TAGS: mentions of death, murder, gossip, blood, and more.

౨ৎ NOTES: i’ve written this book years ago with original characters in mind but i thought doing it as a fan-fiction would be better.

౨ৎ HYPERLINKS: pinned post, ko-fi, seventeen’s master-list, seungcheol’s master-list, and the women of hannam-dong chapter list.

౨ৎ WORDCOUNT: 2.3k for chapter 1.

I was never fond of the cold weather. I never liked how it made my fingertips freeze despite already wearing thick gloves. But here I was, standing in a train station, waiting for my ride to pick me up on this cold, snowy day. I never intended to go back to the neighborhood where I grew up. Don’t get me wrong, I loved everything that was in Hannam-dong.

It was already noon, and I was still standing at the god-awful train station that I was at four hours ago. Being in the same position I was for so long, I could already feel the ice starting to form on my fingertips. They should’ve arrived by now. Already dreading every hour that I was here, without any hesitation, I left the station and hailed a taxi. I should’ve never gone back.

“Taxi!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. The taxi came to a screeching halt. The driver rolled his windows down and looked at me from head to toe. Almost as if he was criticizing how I look and if I belonged here.

“Where to?” The driver asked, his tone deep and tired, like he was suddenly awoken from a deep sleep.

“Mallory Heights,” I said, my voice cracking as the cold winter air caught my throat.

“Hop in.” The driver sighed. “Are you a tourist?” He said as I got in and made myself comfortable.

“Oh, no. I grew up here.”

“Really? What’s your name?” He asked as he chewed on the toothpick between his rotten teeth.

I hesitated, thinking about whether I should lie or tell the truth. “Song Hye-ri,” I said, telling him my real name, which made his eyes widen at the words that came out of my mouth.

“Song. Wait, Hee-young's daughter? You’re a Koo or a Kim? Well, I’ll be damned.” He said, his smile reaching his ears as he got excited. I never understood why the people of Hannam-dong and/or South Korea obsess over rich people. It was weird.

I chuckled dryly. Whenever I was asked who my mother was, I simply shook my head and sighed. I always contemplated whether I should answer their question or not. My family, in other people’s words, was affluent in the neighborhood of Hannam-dong. My grandmother, Koo Hye-jung, came from a rich family in Gangnam, while my grandfather, Kim Beom-seok, also came from a rich family here in Hannam-dong. Yes, they literally lived minutes apart, but acted as if one were in a different country.

At first, both families opposed my grandmother and grandfather’s relationship because of a problem they had. But it was true that love conquers all. After years of fighting with their families, my grandmother and grandfather got married.

“Technically, I’m a Song. But yes, my mother’s Hee-young.” I whispered.

“I knew it! You look just like your mother.”

Wrong, I look like my father. But go on. “Well, that’s what people say.”

After minutes of pure silence, we arrived in front of the cream-colored gate that I deeply missed, sort of. Not wanting to say another word with the taxi driver, I quickly gave the money, took my bag, and left the taxi without any sound coming out of my mouth.

I slowly lifted my head to get a better view of the compound on the other side of the gate. Oh, how I hated living here. Here in all its glory, the infamous Koo-Kim Estate. Seven houses, one obnoxiously large swimming pool, and one big outdoor courtyard for the parties my grandmother hosted every year. I inhaled deeply, trying to gather all the confidence and courage I had left in my body. I dropped my bag and took out my phone from my pocket. As I was about to text someone from the staff to open the gates, my grandparents’ butler, Mr. Park, was running towards me.

“Hye-ri!” He said in between breaths. Mr. Park stopped to catch his breath, then opened the gate in one swift motion. Mr. Park was like a father to me. The second my dad got busy with the family business, Mr. Park was always there to guide me throughout my pre-teen years.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Park.” I smiled. I enveloped him in a tight hug that made him chuckle heartily.

“It’s nice to see you as well, Hye-ri. Come, your grandmother is waiting for you.” He smiled as he took my bag from the ground. “How was Busan?”

“It’s still Busan.” I chuckle.

“What about your job? What is it again?” He laughs as we walk to the biggest house on the lot.

“I manage a small firm.” I shyly said. In all honesty, I didn’t really know what I did. All I know is that I have a shit job that pays the bills. Ever since I left the nest, I have had trouble finding a job that doesn’t hire me for my surname.

“That’s good. You have a nice job.” He smiled, which I returned with a chuckle. Mr. Park was a nice old man. He’s been in the family ever since my Uncle Ha-joon was born. So, when you truly want to know the history of this family, your go-to person is Mr. Park.

After a long walk, we finally reached the large auburn doors to my grandparents’ house. Mr. Park opened it, which revealed the red carpeted floors I once ran on as a kid. “Where’s everyone?” I asked.

“Oh, your grandmother is in the living room. As for your parents, Hee-young is in your home.” He politely said as he gave my bag to one of the house helpers.

“What about Aunt Ha-neul and Aunt Ha-eun?” I asked as we finally reached the living room. Before Mr. Park could even answer, I could already hear my grandmother yelling my name.

“My dear Hye-ri!” My grandmother yelled; her voice almost breaking the glass.

“That’s my cue.” I smiled at Mr. Park and left him to finally go to my grandmother. “Halmeoni!” I smiled as my grandmother hugged me tightly.

“Oh, how I missed you.” She chuckled as she patted my head. “It’s been two long years without you, my dear."

“Where’s everyone?” I asked as I slumped on the velvet couch.

“Well-” My grandmother sighed. She then sat beside me, her hands touching mine. “Your mother is in her house, your Aunt Ha-neul and Aunt Ha-eun are in Gangnam for a book club meeting, and your uncles are outside with your grandfather.”

I simply nodded. I stopped the urge to laugh at how my whole family didn’t even care that I was here, that I had already arrived. But I pushed it to the back of my brain. Like I always did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad at my family for forgetting me. But a nice ‘hello’ would’ve sufficed.

“Are you hungry?” She sighed, changing the topic.

“Not really.” I faked a smile to hide the fact that I was indeed hungry. But my family being absent on my arrival suddenly made me ill. “I’ll just go to my room and unpack.”

“Okay, dear.” My grandmother gave me the biggest smile she could. “Don’t forget dinner later.” She spoke. I responded with a faint nod.

I’ve been cooped up in my room for God knows how long. I twisted and turned until the sun finally decided to set. Staring blankly at the rose-colored ceiling above me, I contemplated whether I should call or text my cousin Ho-sook, Aunt Ha-eun's only daughter. Ho-sook, who’s a year younger than me, was the only cousin I was close to. As kids, we were inseparable. Joint to the hip, if you might say. But when we grew older, Ho-sook and I’s relationship drifted apart. I went to study abroad for college while she stayed here.

So, here I am, phone in my hand, thinking about whether I should text the only cousin I could bear. The others, not so much. Other than Ho-sook, I have six more cousins. Four of them were older men, and the other two were women. Maybe it’s because they’re much older than me. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re just annoying, very annoying. Ever since I could talk and walk, my older cousins made it very clear that I didn’t belong in their clique. Like, I wanted to hear them talk for hours about how women should submit to their husbands? Yeah, I’d rather stick a fork in my eyeballs. That’s why Ho-sook is the only one I could talk to. They’re the only cousin I have that doesn’t annoy me.

“To text, or not to text,” I whispered, my eyes landing on the windowsill in front of me. I mean, should I be scared to call Ho-sook? No. Should I call them and tell them that our family didn’t even care that I arrived? Yes. But after minutes of arguing with myself, a soft knock startled my train of thought.

“Can I come in?” A male voice said. A voice I knew. A voice I loathed for years. A voice I didn’t want to hear.

I took a long, deep breath and got up. As much as I wanted to ignore the man on the other side of my door, I forced myself to open the door, which revealed a face that I didn’t want to see.

“Hyeon-ju.” I sighed, placing my hands on my hips as I stared down at the man in front of me. “I’d lie if I said it was nice seeing you.”

He chuckled at my words. God, I wanted to rip out his eyeballs. “Come on, you’re not going to hug your favorite cousin?”

“What do you want?” I said, dismissing everything he said.

“Dinner's ready.” He said with a dirty look plastered on his face. “Oh, and grandma said to wear nice clothes. The next-door neighbors are here.”

“What I’m wearing is fine.” I rolled my eyes as I got out and closed the door behind me. After I closed the door, I tried to walk as fast as I could to avoid the devil incarnate, whose name was Hyeon-ju. But much to my dismay, he immediately walked beside me, rested his calloused hands on my arms, and smiled like the devil.

“How’s Busan?” He asked, trying to start a conversation with me as we walked down the stairs.

God, please let me push him on the stairs. I stared at him. Almost as if my stare could burn his eyes. I didn’t know what he ate, but I was sure that he wasn’t the Hyeon-ju I knew. The Hyeon-ju who constantly argued with me. The Hyeon-ju who pushed me down the stairs when I was a kid.

“Busan's fine,” I whispered, still bewildered at the fact that he was having a full-on conversation with me, with someone he hated for all his life.

You would ask, why did we hate each other? I mean, it wasn’t like this. It was never like this. When I was a kid, Hyeon-ju was already in college. Meaning, our age gap was wide. So, to this day, I never knew why he hated me so much. Maybe it was because I took all the attention when I was born? Maybe he hated the fact that there was another kid on the growing list of inheritors? But I never got an answer.

“That’s nice.” He smiled. Something’s not right.

“How’s your wife?” I asked, easing into the conversation as we got near the dining hall. The various voices I could hear made my stomach twist into knots. Hyeon-ju didn’t even finish his sentence as my grandmother shouted as she saw Hyeon-ju and I standing at the end of the long crimson dining table.

“Ah, there she is!” My grandmother exclaimed, making everyone in the room turn their heads and stare at me like I was dinner.

“Come sit beside me, dear!” My mother grinned and patted the velvet chair beside her.

I didn’t know what to do. I froze in my spot as I saw my whole family. The same family that didn’t even bother to pick me up. The family that I haven’t seen in two years. So, like any obedient kid would do, I nodded and walked towards my mother, who looked at me like I had done something wrong. I silently sat down as the conversation continued.

I looked at the people surrounding me. Some were familiar, some weren’t. All my male cousins and their wives sat on the right side while my female cousins sat on the left side with their husbands. While I quietly played with my soup, I felt a pair of eyes looking at me. I looked up to see that my neighbor, whom I didn’t know, stared at my face as if it were just the two of us in the dining hall. His stare burned right through me.

He was intimidating, for sure. Maybe it’s his looks. In my years of living, I have never lied. I always told the truth even if it could hurt anybody. This man was pretty. No, not pretty. Beautiful. He was the typical rich guy you would see in a country club. He only doesn’t look rich, but he smelled rich. He was the very definition of old money.

As we had a stare down, which I now regretted, my grandmother, who was sitting at the end of the table, shouted in my direction. “Dear, I see that you made yourself acquainted with Seungcheol.”

I looked at my grandmother with wide eyes. She didn’t have to call me out like that. Then I heard a chuckle. A deep chuckle that made my lips tremble. My gaze landed on the man in front of me, whose name was Seungcheol, as my grandmother said. “Is there something funny?” I scoffed, irritated by the way he was looking at me. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me and gave me a toothy smile. God, I’m melting. His lips were now pressed thinly, his long-calloused fingers twirling the sharp knife, and his eyes staring deeply into mine. “Nothing’s funny.”