#and I enjoyed going through my old things

[girly-girlk]

Drew and reader having a huge age gap and so he finally takes her to meet his family and they’re just not feeling the gap yk? Or maybe the reader is pregnant, and then he takes her to meet them?

too much space between us

drew starkey x reader

summary: you meet drew’s family for the first time and they’re wishy washy about the age gap

a/n: i really love how this one turned out! enjoy!!💕

you were nervous, but you tried to play it cool. one hand clutched the bottle of wine drew told you to bring — his mom will love it, he said — and the other was tucked tightly into his, your fingers wound together like a lifeline. the ride to north carolina had been full of teasing and soft music, drew rubbing your thigh and whispering how excited he was for you to finally meet the people who raised him.

but the second you stepped into the warmth of the starkey family home, it was like a wall went up.

they weren’t rude. not at first. just… formal. polite in the way people are when they don’t want to say the wrong thing, but are already thinking it.

his mom gave you a once-over that lasted too long. his dad kept asking you about school — which was fair, since you were still in it. drew had told them, of course. they knew you were a lot younger than him. but knowing it on paper and seeing it in real life were clearly two different things.

“so… what are you studying again?” his dad asked as you helped set the table.

you offered a small smile. “communications. i’ve been leaning toward public relations.”

“ah. so, still figuring things out.”

it wasn’t really a question, but you nodded anyway. “sort of, yeah. i’m only a junior.”

from across the kitchen, drew shot you a reassuring look, like he could sense your skin crawling. his fingers brushed your back as he passed, and it helped a little. but not enough.

dinner was worse.

his sister asked if you were even old enough to drink. his aunt joked about drew “robbing the cradle,” and though she laughed like it was harmless, her eyes didn’t soften when you caught them.

“drew,” his mom finally said, after too many awkward silences and not enough wine, “how did you two even meet?”

you opened your mouth, but drew jumped in.

“a film event in l.a. a friend of hers was working it. we started talking — the rest is kind of history.”

there was a pause. then, carefully:

“she just… seems so young, honey. i mean, you’ve always gone for women who were a little more grounded.”

you stared at your plate, cheeks burning. drew’s hand found your thigh under the table, warm and protective.

“she is grounded,” he said, voice low. firm. “you don’t know her yet. but you will.”

his mom hesitated. “i’m not trying to be difficult, drew. it’s just… when you’re nearly thirty and she’s barely legal, people are going to talk.”

“let them,” he snapped. “she makes me happy. that’s all i care about.”

you didn’t say much the rest of the night.

and later, when you were curled up in the guest room bed, your back to him, drew ran his fingers through your hair and whispered, “i’m sorry. i should’ve prepared you better.”

you blinked into the dark. “you shouldn’t have to defend me like that.”

“i’m not defending you. i’m protecting us.”

“but maybe they’re right,” you whispered. “maybe there’s too much space between us.”

drew turned you to face him, his eyes searching yours. “maybe. but if i have to spend the rest of my life closing that space — proving them wrong — i will. i’d rather spend forever fighting for you than a lifetime pretending someone else fits better.”

your breath hitched, the doubt still heavy in your chest. but so was his love — warm, real, and stubborn as hell.

and maybe that was enough.

[rimzaaa]

Black Stone, White Lies

Oneshot!

Pairing: Cho Hun-hyun x female reader.

Fandom: The Match (승부)

Summary: She was just a teenager when he called her incapable. Five years later, she returns as his opponent, ready to take back everything — including the pride he once shattered. But behind their Go board rivalry lies years of unspoken tension, buried emotions, and a fire neither of them were prepared to reignite.

Warning: Age gap (23x40 cause I love this trope), heavy angst, obsession, emotionally intense scenes, unresolved feelings, explicit content (18+), teacher-student dynamic (past), rough intimacy, jealousy, guilt, power imbalance, smoking & alcohol mentions.

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I know The Match is based on a real-life figure and is all about the game of Go. Also I hadn't seen any fic on Lee Byunghun's this character so I thought to write one with my own twists and ideas. I hope y'all will enjoy and love it. Your reblogs and comments mean a lot! 🫶🏻

Words Count: 8K

Tag list: @salesmancarddd @marymun @astronomicalastro-blog1

The afternoon sun streamed softly through the windows, casting golden light across the quiet living room. The only sound that echoed was the clicking of Go stones being placed on the wooden board.

Y/N sat on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, eyes fixed on the game as her father (Yun-sik) and his friend (Cheon Seung-pil) played in focused silence, seated cross-legged on the rug below.

Her father sat frozen, squinting at the board as he struggled to make his next move. The room was quiet, thick with concentration. Then, without a word, Y/N leaned forward from the couch, picked up a white stone, and placed it gently on the board. Two of the black stones were instantly cornered—out of the game.

Yun-sik and Seung-pil’s heads snapped toward the eighteen years old girl, eyes wide in disbelief.

“How did you do that, kiddo?” her father asked, his voice laced with both surprise and curiosity.

Y/N shrugged casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It was right there.”

Seung-pil let out a soft whistle, clearly impressed. “Woah. This girl is a genius, Yun-sik.”

Yun-sik nodded, a proud smile tugging at his lips as he watched his daughter act all nonchalant.

Seung-pil broke the silence with a laugh, clearly impressed. “How about we send her into this field, huh? I bet she’d master the rules of Go in just a few days. She’s already better than most beginners.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, completely unimpressed by the suggestion. She shook her head firmly.

“What? No way. I’m not interested at all.”

“I think he might be right,” her father added, trying to sound casual. “Maybe we should think about it, Y/N.”

But she was already on her feet, marching toward the stairs.

“NEVER!” she snapped stubbornly before storming off and slamming her bedroom door behind her.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

Y/n woke up late next morning — it was the weekend, after all. After a quick change into jeans and an oversized sweater, she tied her hair into a high ponytail and made her way downstairs, expecting to find the table filled with the usual weekend spread of delicious breakfast.

But her steps halted at the bottom stair.

There, seated on the couch with her father and Seung-pil, was none other than Cho Hun-hyun — the legendary Go player of South Korea, the man who had recently taken home the international championship.

Her brows furrowed. What is he doing here?

Before she could say anything, her father looked over his shoulder and beamed.

“Oh, here she is. Come on in, Y/n.”

She stood frozen for a moment, completely thrown off, before slowly stepping toward them — still unsure of what exactly she was walking into.

“Y/n, this is Mr. Cho Hun-hyun. I’m sure you know who he is already, don’t you?” Seung-pil said as she took a seat beside her father.

“Of course I know Mr. Cho,” she replied casually, her eyes flickering toward the man across from her.

She caught his gaze — just for a second — before quickly looking away. Not because she was trying to eye him or anything… she just didn’t want him thinking she was.

Cho gave her a brief nod as her father introduced them. He was confident—cold even—with no trace of hesitation or discomfort. He sat like he owned the place, posture straight, expression unreadable.

Y/n, on the other hand, sat quietly with her hands clasped neatly in her lap, gaze lowered. Still, her curiosity—or maybe something bolder—betrayed her, stealing glances at Cho every now and then.

Cho politely excused both himself and Y/n from Yun-sik and Seung-pil, expressing that he wanted a private word—and a quick game—to assess whether the girl he was about to train truly had potential.

Y/n clearly didn’t want any part of it. But with her father playing host and Cho being an honored guest, she had no choice but to nod and follow. On the surface, she played the role of the obedient daughter, but just beneath it simmered her quiet stubbornness, clashing with every step she took behind the man who was about to test her.

They sat across from each other on the leather couch in the quiet study, the Go board resting neatly on the table between them. The silence was thick—almost tense—as Y/n finally allowed herself to really look at the man in front of her.

He sat there with one leg propped up casually on the couch, hunched slightly over the Go board like it was an extension of his soul. His suit—steel gray and a little loose on the shoulders—looked dated but dignified, like he didn’t care to keep up with the times because he was the standard. Beneath it, he wore a simple dark shirt, the kind that clung slightly to his frame when he moved, just enough to hint at strength beneath the quiet.

His face was unreadable, sharp and lean—cheekbones carved clean, lips pressed in a line that neither smiled nor frowned. His hair was thick and dark, parted to the side, brushing his forehead with boyish stubbornness, a strange contrast to the cold stillness of his demeanor.

A gold watch peeked out from his cuff, every time he moved his hand. His presence filled the room. Calm, silent, and unshakably confident—he looked like someone who didn’t just play Go.

He was Go.

Y/n swallowed hard. She didn’t know why, but something about him unnerved her. Maybe it was the way he sat like nothing around him mattered—or maybe it was how, even without looking at her, he made her feel seen. He was probably in his mid-thirties and she wondered how such a handsome man like him is still single.

“So,” he began, his voice calm and direct, “why do you want to learn Go?”

Y/n hesitated for a second before replying honestly, “Actually… I didn’t. My father thinks I have potential. He says I can do magic in the world of Go, just like you.”

Cho let out a faint smirk at that — brief, unreadable. He nodded slowly, then leaned forward and unfolded the board between them with practiced ease. The soft click of the stones echoed in the quiet room as he handed her the black set.

“Let’s see what you’re capable of, then.”

The game began — quiet clicks of the stones, deep concentration, and a thick layer of unspoken tension between them. Y/n sat across from him, stealing quick glances every now and then. Cho’s gaze, though calm, was sharp. His lips curled into a faint smirk each time she hesitated over a move, as if he already knew the outcome.

The match was nearing its end. Y/n was just one step away from winning — but her mind was foggy. She wasn’t sure if it was the game or the man sitting across from her that was truly distracting her.

Finally, she made her move — and it was the wrong one.

Cho let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. It wasn’t mocking, but rather something else. Amusement. Maybe even pride. “You lost, little girl.”

She met his gaze, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and from something else when he called her by that nickname. Whether it was from the pressure or the way he looked at her, she didn’t know.

“I’m not a kid,” she mumbled under her breath.

“No?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “How old are you, then?”

“Eighteen,” she replied softly, voice nearly caught in her throat.

That made Cho pause. A flicker of something crossed his face — surprise, amusement — and then he chuckled again, leaning back against the couch as he gave her a proper look. Big, curious eyes. Silky dark hair pulled into a ponytail. An oversized sweater draped over her small frame. And then his eyes paused — just briefly — at the curve of her neck.

Something stirred inside him.

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

Just then, Yun-sik and Seung-pil stepped into the room, cutting through the lingering tension.

“So,” Seung-pil asked with curiosity, “what do you think of her game?”

Cho glanced at Y/n before replying, his tone composed but honest. “I’m impressed. I didn’t expect her to be this good already. She has sharp instincts — just needs some refining. With proper training, she could be exceptional.”

“Really?” Yun-sik beamed, eyes wide with pride. “That would be an absolute honor, Mr. Cho. My daughter’s lucky to have a mentor like you.”

Y/n stood quietly beside them, offering a small, polite bow. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Cho returned the gesture with a nod and a faint smile.

But in that short moment — as their eyes met — something shifted. A mutual awareness. A flicker of something deeper than the game. Neither of them said it aloud, but both knew: This wouldn’t just be about Go.

There was something else unfolding — something neither of them was ready to name.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

Days passed, and so did her training. A month had gone by now. Y/n was improving steadily — learning new strategies, mastering the rules, becoming sharper with every move on the board.

But it wasn’t just about Go anymore.

There were stolen glances across the table. Accidental brushes of their hands. Teasing jokes that lingered longer than they should’ve. Their bond had shifted — no longer just teacher and student, but something softer, something warmer. Friends, perhaps. With an age gap, yes — but neither of them seemed to care.

Y/n felt herself being drawn to him in ways she didn’t know how to explain. Her eyes lingered on him longer than they should. Her cheeks warmed every time he praised her gameplay. And every accidental touch — every flicker of contact — made her heart skip a beat.

Cho wasn’t much different.

He found himself noticing her too often. The curve of her smile. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused. Her quiet intelligence, her laughter — everything about her stirred something in him he hadn’t felt before.

He told himself it was just an innocent attraction. A phase. A passing feeling.

But he knew that wasn’t the truth.

He was starting to see her in a way he shouldn’t — not as a student, not as a kid, not as someone temporary. And that terrified him more than anything.

Because she was young. Too young.

And he wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It’s late afternoon. Rain is tapping softly against the windows, and the sky is gray. They’re in the study, Go board between them — but the game is forgotten now. Y/n had just made a brilliant move, one that even caught Cho off guard. He’s quiet, eyes on the board. She looks up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Instead, he leans back slowly, studying her in silence.

“You’re not a student anymore,” he says, voice low, almost unreadable.

Y/n blinks. “What?”

Cho’s eyes meet hers — sharp but unreadable. “You’re starting to play like an opponent, not someone I’m teaching.”

Y/n leans forward, tilting her head slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he replies. “Just… dangerous.”

The word hangs in the air, heavier than it should.

Silence settles between them, thick with unsaid things. Then, Y/n reaches for a black stone — her fingers brushing his hand by mistake.

Neither of them moves away

His eyes drop to her fingers. So close. Too close.

Y/n’s breath catches in her throat. “You said I’m dangerous,” she whispers, “but I think you’re the one who’s losing focus, Mr. Cho.”

A faint smirk flickers at the corner of his lips — then vanishes just as quickly. He leans in a fraction, enough for her to feel the tension in the air thicken.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs.

“And you’re the one who lit it,” she fires back — soft, bold, breathless.

They both freeze.

Then suddenly, Cho stands up — stepping back, putting distance between them.

“Training’s over for today,” he says, voice flat now, masking the storm behind his eyes. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

He leaves the room before she can say anything. But even as the door shuts behind him, Y/n knows something irreversible has shifted between them.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It had been a week since that moment — since the air between them had changed, thickened with something unspeakable. And since then,

Cho had made one thing clear: Distance.

There were no more lingering glances. No more teasing remarks. No more subtle shifts in his tone that only she could catch.

He kept his voice even now, his posture strict, and his gaze fixed solely on the board during training. Y/n noticed it immediately — the sudden wall he’d built between them — but she didn’t question it. Maybe he wanted her to focus, she told herself. Maybe he realized the distraction they had both become.

But it wasn’t just focus.

Cho felt himself unraveling.

He was Cho Hun-hyun — the undefeated, the master, the national treasure of Go. His name meant strategy. Precision. Control.

And yet, lately, all he could think about was her.

The girl who wasn’t a girl anymore.

Her voice — that soft, defiant tone — haunted him: “I think you’re the one losing focus, Mr. Cho.”

She had said it to tease him, maybe to provoke a reaction. But she had no idea how right she was. He was losing focus — not just during games, but everywhere. He would sit before the board and all he could see was her face across from him. Her fingers brushing the stones. Her eyes studying him, not the game.

It was infuriating.

He clenched his jaw every time he thought about it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to guide her, train her, sharpen her into a player that could rival anyone.

Not feel anything.

And certainly not this — not the burn in his chest when she smiled. Not the ache in his gut when she laughed at something her father said. Not the guilt that clawed at him when his eyes lingered too long on the delicate line of her neck, the way her t-shirt slipped just slightly off one shoulder.

He needed to stop it.

He had to stop it.

Because if he didn’t — he knew he’d lose far more than just his title.

He’d lose himself.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It was a quiet evening. Both of them sat cross-legged on the rug, the Go board between them, eyes fixed on the game — or at least, that’s what they told themselves.

Cho had been keeping his distance, maintaining a cold professionalism that felt more like punishment than discipline. It was hard for him — harder than he admitted — but he told himself it was necessary. For her sake. For his.

But Y/n had had enough.

She’d spent weeks confused by his sudden shift. The warmth between them had disappeared, replaced with cool silences and curt instructions. And tonight, she had made up her mind. After this game, she would confront him. Ask if she had done something wrong. Ask why he’d changed.

The end of the game neared. Cho was stuck, frustration simmering just beneath his sharp features. He ran a hand through his hair, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before exhaling slowly. He couldn’t believe it — he had no way out.

Across from him, Y/n sat calm and composed, just like he used to be. Confident. Steady. Her eyes gleamed with silent determination.

It stung.

Eventually, Cho placed his stone on the board, and a small, amused chuckle escaped Y/n’s lips — barely more than a breath, but enough.

“You lost, Mr. Cho,” she said softly, a proud smile touching her lips. It was the first time she had ever beaten him, and after months of brutal training, it felt like a victory she had earned.

But instead of pride, his eyes darkened.

“You think winning once makes you a champion?” he snapped, his tone sharp and clipped. “Don’t forget the days you cried over every mistake. And this—” he gestured to the board, his voice rising slightly, “—you misplayed here. I let it slide. So stop acting like a child over one small win. Grow up.”

He didn’t wait for her reaction. Didn’t look back. He stood and walked out of the house without another word.

Y/n sat frozen, the sting of his words hitting harder than any loss she’d ever endured. She had expected praise. Maybe even a smile. Instead, she was left with the echo of his anger. Her hands trembled as she lowered her head, and silent tears slipped down her cheeks, falling into her lap.

Meanwhile, Cho walked briskly through the cool evening air, the cigarette burning down between his fingers. Guilt twisted in his chest. He knew he had crossed a line. He knew she didn’t deserve that. But he couldn’t ignore the truth he refused to say out loud.

She was rising. Fast. And it terrified him.

Not just because she might take his place someday — but because the thought of losing her in any way was something he wasn’t ready to face.

He shook his head and told himself it was fine. She’d recover. She always did.

Didn’t she?

Y/n had had enough.

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she stormed out of the house, heart pounding in her chest. She spotted Cho walking just a block away, his back to her, hands buried in his pockets.

“Mr. Cho!” she called out, voice sharp and broken at the same time.

He halted. The sound of her voice froze him in place. Slowly, he turned around — and the sight of her hit him like a punch to the chest. Her eyes were puffy, red-rimmed from crying, but it wasn’t just sadness he saw.

It was rage.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded as she marched up to him. “What did I do wrong? I won! Isn’t that what all this training was for? Then why did you scold me like that?”

She stood in front of him, stubborn, proud — but her voice trembled with the effort of holding herself together.

Cho didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched her face, the guilt clawing at his insides. She had no idea how close she was to the truth. How much she had stirred things in him he couldn’t control.

Finally, he exhaled and shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n. Go home.”

He turned to leave, but her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Her grip was tight, almost desperate — as if she needed to anchor herself to something solid, even if it was him.

“You owe me an explanation,” she said fiercely. “You don’t get to just walk away after that. You don’t get to humiliate me and pretend nothing happened.”

Cho looked down at her hand on his arm, then slowly pulled himself free. His expression shifted back to that cold, unreadable calm he wore so well — the one that drove her crazy.

“I told you already,” he said, voice clipped. “You won — but with a flaw. You misplayed, and I let it slide. Come talk to me when you win without any mistakes.”

Her lips parted, trembling now. The burn behind her eyes came back with full force, but she blinked it away. She didn’t want to cry again. Not in front of him.

But a few tears escaped anyway.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered. “There’s something else. I can feel it.”

Cho’s jaw clenched. His fists stayed at his sides, but every part of him screamed to pull her close, to tell her the truth — that she was brilliant, that she was rising fast, and that he was scared.

But pride was a bitter thing.

And fear, even worse.

So instead, he stood silent as the wind moved between them, carrying her pain and his regret with it.

Y/n took a shaky breath and stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. “If I’ve done something wrong… just tell me. But don’t keep pushing me away like this.”

He didn’t move back. He didn’t stop her either.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy but steady. “I didn’t just want to make you proud. I wanted to matter to you.”

That hit him hard.

His gaze dropped to her lips for a split second — too fast, but not unnoticed. Y/n’s breath caught, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Cho’s hand lifted on instinct, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. His touch lingered — longer than it should have. His warm breath fanning her face.

Their faces were just inches apart now.

She didn’t step back.

And he didn’t either.

Everything was still — the world had faded, and it was just them. Just one moment away from falling into something they couldn’t undo.

But then Cho blinked — like something snapped inside him — and he took a step back, his hand dropping to his side.

“No,” he said hoarsely, almost to himself. “This… can’t happen.”

Y/n stared at him, her breath still caught in her chest, the sting of rejection settling in like a chill.

He didn’t look at her again. Just turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone under the quiet evening sky — her heart aching not from the loss, but from what almost was.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

Three days.

That’s how long it had been since he walked away. Since she stood there—heart wide open—only to be left behind in silence.

Cho hadn’t shown up at her house for their usual training. And when her father called to ask why, he gave a simple answer: He had a match out of town.

A half-truth. Part lie, part escape.

They were both suffering, trapped in the same storm—only from different sides. And neither knew what to call it.

Y/n was lost in confusion and hurt, her focus shattered. Even during her solo training, her hands would hover mid-air, mind blank. She needed answers. But he wasn’t showing up. He was pushing her away.

Cho, on the other hand, was tangled in guilt and fear. He knew exactly where things were heading—but he also knew the weight of the consequences.

His career. His name. His future.

And hers? She had her whole life ahead of her. She needed clarity, not chaos. A future built on discipline and dreams—not feelings they couldn’t afford to name.

⚪⚫⚪⚫

It was a rainy afternoon. Y/n sat in the living room with her father, chatting about casual things—her training, studies, and whatever else filled the quiet spaces between them—when the doorbell rang.

Y/n rose from the couch and walked toward the door.

And froze.

Cho Hun-hyun stood there. Calm as ever, posture straight, expression unreadable—as if the last few days hadn’t happened at all.

Wordlessly, she stepped aside to let him in. He greeted her father with a polite nod, informing him that he was back and ready to resume her training. Her father smiled, relieved.

He had no idea what had passed in those days of silence, but Cho did. He knew hiding wasn’t a solution. It never was. So he’d made his decision: return, but strictly as her mentor. The man who had crossed a line would now pretend there had never been one.

Y/n led him to the study and excused herself for a moment.

While she was gone, Cho’s gaze drifted across the room and landed on a cluttered table. Sheets of paper were scattered—handwritten notes, strategy maps, rule breakdowns. He picked one up, brows drawing together. These were advanced strategies. Ones he hadn’t taught her yet.

She had been training on her own.

The realization made his chest tighten. She was already advancing quickly. Winning matches. Gaining recognition. The fear he had buried resurfaced: She’s going to surpass me.

He hastily placed the papers back as Y/n returned.

They sat down across from each other on the rug, the Go board between them, silence stretching like a chasm. Without a word—or a glance in her direction—Cho began the game.

Y/n clenched her jaw, holding back everything inside her. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to ask him what the hell happened between them—but she didn’t.

Not yet.

The game progressed. Smooth at first—until she froze. Her eyes scanned the board, fingers twitching, unsure of the next move. She bit her lip and looked up at him, hoping for a hint like he used to give.

But all she received was a cold, unreadable glare.

“I… I’m stuck,” she finally admitted. “I don’t know what move to make.”

Silence.

“At least help me out,” she added, a little softer this time.

Cho leaned in slowly, eyes locked on hers.

“Help?” he scoffed, then gave a humorless chuckle. “Why don’t you use your brain like you used your mouth that day? Fast.”

The words hit her like a slap.

She blinked at him, stunned. Was he really throwing that night in her face like this?

“You know what, Y/n?” he continued, voice sharp. “Maybe you should stop playing Go and try gonggi. Might suit your level better.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she held them in. “I was just—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he cut her off, standing abruptly. “You can’t focus because you’re distracted. You thought I was softening, laughing with you, letting you win—and that night?”

He shook his head. “That was a mistake. Don’t get delusional.”

Her breath caught.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to train you,” he said coldly. “You’re not ready. Not for this game. Not for what it takes. You’ll never make it just by memorizing rules. Forget Go. I’ll speak to your father.”

And just like that—without a glance back, without letting her speak—he walked out.

Leaving her alone.

With her tears.

With her shame.

With hands that trembled, and a heart that was breaking for reasons she still didn’t fully understand.

━━ ❍ 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 ❍ ━━

Y/n stood outside the door of the room where the final round of the National Go Championship was about to begin.

She was no longer the teenage girl who once clung to hesitant moves and stolen glances.

Now, she was a woman—poised, grown, and breathtaking in a way that turned heads the second she walked into a room. Confidence radiated off her like a second skin. Fierce. Focused. Still just as stubborn.

Her name echoed through the speakers, announced as one of the finalists. She took a slow breath and stepped inside.

Eyes turned toward her as soon as she entered, but her gaze scanned the room for only one person—and found him instantly.

Cho Hun-hyun.

There he was. Still composed, still cold, still every bit the legend. He sat on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, cigarette balanced between his fingers, that same calm arrogance etched across his face.

But the moment she entered, something shifted.

Cho’s head lifted. His eyes landed on her—and they didn’t move. For the first time in five years, he faltered. The cigarette trembled slightly before he crushed it into the ashtray, almost on instinct. He sat up straighter, as if trying to confirm what his eyes were seeing.

She was real.

Not a ghost.

Not a memory.

Real.

And she wasn’t the girl he left behind.

She was a storm.

Y/n walked toward the table slowly, every step intentional. Her eyes never left his. There was no softness, no hesitation. Only satisfaction at the look on his face—the disbelief, the flicker of guilt, the crack in his composed mask.

She took her seat across from him, calm and unreadable.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t smile.

She had no interest in breaking down in front of him ever again.

If anything, she was here to make him fall apart.

The game began with the sharp click of the timer, and both players made their opening moves.

Y/n didn’t spare him a single glance. Her eyes were locked on the board, her focus unshakable. She hadn’t trained for five years just to fall apart now. She told herself she was different—colder, stronger, untouchable. Maybe that was true. Or maybe she was just better at pretending.

Cho, on the other hand, kept stealing glances at her. He didn’t need to focus much—he was already a legend. Calmly lighting a cigarette, he leaned back slightly and let the smoke curl into the air above them. But his eyes never truly left her. She had changed, yes—grown into a striking, confident woman—but some things hadn’t changed at all. The way she bit her lower lip before placing a stone. The way she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear when she was thinking. The fire in her eyes that always spoke of quiet rebellion.

And then there was her neck—that same damn delicate curve that had caught his attention the first day he saw her.

The urge to touch her, to taste her skin, to know what it felt like to have her lips against his—it hadn’t faded. If anything, the years had only sharpened it.

But he also remembered exactly how he’d shattered her five years ago. And now…he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to look at her that way anymore.

The game was nearing its end, and Cho found himself in a tight corner. No matter how many possibilities ran through his mind, every path led to loss. For the first time in years, he felt helpless at a Go board.

His eyes lifted toward her, almost instinctively—as if silently begging for help.

And in that moment, a memory struck him like a punch to the gut.

Five years ago.

She had looked up at him just like this—lost, searching for a hint.

But all he gave her was bitterness.

Cruel words.

A closed door.

Now, Y/n didn’t even flinch under his gaze. Her eyes stayed fixed on the board, her next move already forming in her head. She was calm. Collected. Unreachable.

Reluctantly, Cho moved a stone.

And with a faint, satisfied smirk, Y/n placed hers—decisive, brilliant.

Gasps rippled through the room.

The timer stopped.

The judges spoke.

“The winner and new National Go Champion: Y/n.”

That’s when she lifted her eyes—and met his.

Cho sat frozen, stunned by the outcome. That move… that damn move—where had she learned it? She was just a newbie once, a kid with too much confidence. Right?

He watched her rise from her seat as cameras flashed and reporters swarmed. She held the trophy in her hands, expression calm, poised, untouchable.

And no one—no one—looked at him.

No camera turned. No voice called his name.

The very thing he had feared most… was happening right before his eyes.

She had taken everything—his spotlight, his legacy, his place.

His jaw clenched.

Y/n made her way toward the exit when one reporter finally turned to her.

“Is it true that Cho Hun-hyun once trained you?”

The question cut through the noise.

Y/n’s steps faltered—just for a second—as a flicker of the past danced through her eyes.

But she said nothing.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t turn around.

She stepped outside, got into the car, and drove away—leaving him behind this time.

The sky outside was dark, swollen with storm clouds. Rain lashed against the windows in steady sheets, the sound like static filling the silence of the room.

Cho sat in a leather armchair, a glass of whiskey resting in one hand, a cigarette slowly burning between the fingers of the other. The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

He couldn’t stop replaying the events of earlier. The loss. The silence.

But failure wasn’t the only thing haunting him tonight.

She was.

Where had Y/n been all these years? She hadn’t made a name for herself in any of Seoul’s Go academies. No whispers. No mentions. Nothing.

And then, like a ghost, she appeared—silent, sharp, deadly—only to vanish again without a single word. No glance. No goodbye. Just the sound of the closing door behind her.

He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes closing as the burn slid down his throat. But it did nothing to quiet the storm inside.

Her face still lingered behind his eyelids—five years ago. The night he walked out. Her trembling hands. The tears she tried to hide. The way she stood in front of him, demanding answers.

Back then, he thought pushing her away would protect them both.

Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Y/n stepped into her house to the warm embrace of her father. His arms wrapped around her tightly, pride shining in his eyes.

“You made me proud,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry… for everything I did five years ago.”

She gave him a small, reassuring smile — the kind that said she had long since stopped needing an apology — and then quietly made her way upstairs to her room.

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

She stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her tired body. But her muscles didn’t just ache from the match — they ached with a memory she had tried so hard to bury.

For the past five years, this had been her quiet ritual. Whenever the world grew too loud, whenever the weight of it all became too much — she’d retreat to the silence of the shower, sink down onto the cold tile floor, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around herself like a shield.

And she would cry

Tonight was no exception.

She had won.

She had proved herself to the man who once told her to play gonggi instead of Go. She had taken the trophy — and with it, her revenge.

She should have felt proud. Relieved. Triumphant

But success wasn’t the only thing she carried home tonight.

Somewhere beneath the layers of victory and silence, the ache still lingered — the same old love she had once buried so deep, hoping it would die there.

But it hadn’t.

It had grown quiet, yes. But never gone.

And when she saw him earlier across the Go board — the same sharp eyes, the same careless cigarette between his fingers, the same silence she once found comfort in — she had wanted to break.

To scream. To fall into his arms and demand answers. To ask why he left her that night, why he chose ego over her.

But instead, she stayed still. Just like she had trained herself to.

Silent.

Unshaken.

Unseen.

✦ 𝐅 𝐋 𝐀 𝐒 𝐇 𝐁 𝐀 𝐂 𝐊 ✦

The moment he walked out of the study room, his words lingered in the silence like a curse.

“Forget about Go. I’ll talk to your father.”

He left her sitting there—alone, humiliated, hands trembling and tears falling quietly down her cheeks.

Outside the study room, she heard his voice. Low, cold, distant.

“Mr. Yun-sik, I’m sorry. I can’t continue with Y/n’s training anymore. I don’t think she’s capable of playing at this level. It would be better if you let her focus on her studies.”

A lie.

He said it and left — not just the house, but her world. Carrying a heart full of guilt, regret, and something unspoken: I’m afraid your daughter will surpass me someday.

Moments later, the study room door flew open. Her father stormed in, eyes burning with disappointment. He took one look at her—sitting on the rug, silently crying—and his expression twisted into rage.

“You disgraced me! I thought you had talent. You used to help me with my games—solve moves I couldn’t. I believed in you. I asked the country’s greatest champion to train you, and this is how you repay me? With failure? With shame?”

Each word felt like a slap across her face.

She didn’t speak—just cried harder, silently, lips trembling with words that wouldn’t come out.

“Enough! I’m sending you to Busan. You’ll stay with your aunt. Don’t come back until you’ve finished your studies.”

Her eyes widened. Disbelief washed over her. She scrambled to her feet and reached for him, voice cracking.

“Appa… Appa, please—don’t. I don’t want to go. Please…”

But her father didn’t even look at her. He pulled his hand away from hers and walked out, leaving her in the same silence Cho had.

The next morning, Y/n was sent to Busan.

All night, she’d tried to convince herself it was for the best. That maybe, just maybe, distance would heal her. That she’d forget him.

But deep down, she knew she wouldn’t.

And as she stepped out of the house that day — a suitcase in hand, heart in pieces — she vowed: One day, I’ll come back stronger. And I’ll make them regret ever giving up on me.

✦ 𝐏 𝐑 𝐄 𝐒 𝐄 𝐍 𝐓 ✦

Cho had woken early the next morning, though sleep had barely touched him last night. Over and over, he told himself he wasn’t at fault—that what he did five years ago had been for the best. But deep down, the truth gnawed at him. He had lied to her. Not because she wasn’t capable… but because he was afraid. Afraid she’d surpass him. And last night, that fear became reality.

She had beaten him.

He made his way to a small coffee shop, one tucked away in a quieter part of the city, where Seung-pil was already waiting. A longtime friend of both his and Yun-sik’s, Seung-pil greeted him with a simple nod. They sat for a moment in silence, the weight of unspoken things settling between them like thick fog.

Then Cho cleared his throat.

“I need to know something,” he said, voice low.

Seung-pil glanced at him, a brow raised. “About?”

“Where has Y/n been all these years?” Cho asked.

That made Seung-pil pause. His tone was colder now. “Why? Why do you care about that girl now?”

“Just tell me,” Cho pressed, something in his voice caught between pleading and command.

Seung-pil looked away, exhaled through his nose. “Busan.”

“Busan?” Cho repeated, quietly.

“Yun-sik told me what happened that night,” Seung-pil went on. “Said you refused to train her any further. Said she couldn’t keep up now that the difficulty was rising. He believed you. Got disappointed. Sent her away to live with her aunt in Busan. She was devastated, Cho. But she built herself back up. Brick by brick. Last night when she walked through that door with the trophy in her hand… I saw something in Yun-sik’s eyes I hadn’t seen in years.”

Cho absorbed every word like a blow to the chest.

Now he knew why her name never came up in any Seoul Go academies.

Seung-pil looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you asking now? What—did she bruise your ego, Cho?”

Cho didn’t respond. He simply stood from the table, nodded faintly, and walked out of the café.

The city streets felt heavier under his steps. He wandered without direction, each thought dragging him deeper into regret. She had every reason to hate him. Everything she endured—every tear, every wound—was because of his fear.

And now, he knew what he had to do.

He had to face her.

The sky had turned a deep grey, clouds gathering above the city like a warning. It was past afternoon, and the air was heavy—restless.

Y/n was alone at home. Her father had left town earlier that morning for a business trip. The silence inside the house matched the silence in her heart, until the doorbell rang.

She descended the stairs casually, assuming it was a parcel or a neighbor. But the moment she opened the door, her body froze.

Cho Hun-hyun.

He wasn’t standing tall like before. His shoulders were slightly slouched, his eyes unreadable but hollow. The same man who once walked like he owned the world now looked like a ghost of his former self—uninvited, unannounced, and clearly ashamed.

Y/n’s jaw clenched as her heart pounded with rage. Without hesitation, she began to shut the door.

“Y/n—wait, listen to me—” he stepped forward and stopped the door with his hand.

The sound of her name from his mouth after five long years sent a jolt through her chest. But she shoved that feeling deep down where it couldn’t betray her.

“I don’t want to listen to anything,” she snapped, voice sharp.

But Cho stood firm in the doorway. “Just a minute. Please… let’s talk.”

Y/n let out a bitter scoff. “Talk? About what? There’s nothing left to say. You’re just another name to defeat on my list now. That’s all you are.”

She went to close the door again, but then—

“I lied.”

She froze, her hand still on the doorknob. Her brows furrowed in disbelief.

“I lied that day,” he said, stepping inside before she could stop him. He shut the door behind him slowly, as if trying not to shatter the air between them.

“I told your father you weren’t capable. That you didn’t have what it takes to play Go. But the truth is… I knew you were brilliant. I saw your talent. I saw it growing every day. And it terrified me. I was afraid you’d surpass me. That I’d be forgotten.”

He lifted his gaze, his voice almost a whisper. “And last night, you did. You proved it. There’s no point in hiding anymore.”

Y/n’s vision blurred with hot tears, her chest heaving. She stepped forward and grabbed his collar tightly, eyes blazing.

“You what?” her voice trembled with rage. “You lied because you were afraid?”

Her hands tightened around his shirt as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. “You destroyed five years of my life! I was sent away from everything I knew—because of you!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, brokenly. “I just—”

“Shut up!” she snapped. “You’re a liar! I hate you!”

Her words were sharp, but her voice cracked under the weight of heartbreak. Her hands trembled where they still held onto him, unable to let go.

And that was when he moved.

Without warning, Cho leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss—deep, fierce, unapologetic. A thousand unspoken words poured through it. Regret. Longing. Pain. Apologies.

Y/n’s mind screamed to push him away.

But her body—

Her body betrayed her.

She kissed him back—desperately. Angrily. Furiously. Her rage tangled with his guilt as their lips clashed like the last pieces in a storm.

It wasn’t love.

It was war.

And then—like a snap—reality returned. She shoved him back, eyes wide.

“How dare you—” she gasped, chest rising and falling. “How dare you kiss me?!”

Without another word, she stormed to the door, threw it open, and pushed him out.

“Get lost! I hate you!” she screamed, slamming the door shut behind him.

And then… silence.

Y/n leaned back against the door, her body trembling. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together as more tears escaped. She hadn’t meant a single word.

She wanted to hear him out. To yell at him. To let him explain. To scream and cry in his arms. But if she did—she knew she’d forgive him.

And she wasn’t ready to do that yet.

Outside, Cho stood motionless. The door closed behind him like a final note. He exhaled sharply, feeling the tightness in his chest. He opened the top buttons of his shirt, as if to breathe better.

But the air still felt suffocating.

And so, without a word, he turned… and walked away.

Cho stumbled into a dimly lit bar and drank until he lost count. Whiskey, soju—whatever burned the fastest. He thought drowning in alcohol might ease the fire clawing at his chest, but it only ignited it further.

Hours passed.

Rain began to fall outside—heavy, relentless. Cho staggered out of the bar, soaked instantly, his feet dragging beneath him. His breath reeked of alcohol, his eyes glassy. He walked a few steps before pausing near a trash bin, doubling over as nausea overtook him. He threw up, body trembling from the cold and everything he’d kept buried for years.

But none of it made it better.

Y/n’s face haunted him—those eyes full of betrayal and hurt. The tremble in her voice. Her tears.

He had seen that look once before, five years ago. And now, once again, it was because of him.

He wiped his mouth, rain mixing with the sweat on his forehead. He wanted to go back. To knock on her door again and say what he should’ve said years ago. But he knew she needed space.

And this time, he wouldn’t take that from her.

Across town, the silence inside Y/n’s house was broken only by the sound of her soft, broken sobs.

She was curled up in bed, a blanket wrapped around her like armor. But nothing could keep the ache out. Her pillow was damp, not just from tears, but from every word she wished she’d said to him.

How could he lie like that? How could he throw her away—discard her dreams—just to protect his own reputation?

Her father may have sent her to Busan, but Cho was the one who gave him the excuse.

And yet—

Her fingers touched her lips unconsciously.

The kiss.

Why had she kissed him back?

She should’ve pushed him away. Slapped him. Screamed at him. But she didn’t.

And what haunted her more than his lies… was that single moment. That kiss. That desperate, aching kiss that felt like he’d been waiting five years to give.

Like she was the only thing he ever wanted.

Her tears started again, silent and endless.

And as the storm outside raged on, so did the one inside her heart.

━━ ❍ One Week Later ❍ ━━

The crowd whispered as the rematch was announced — a special exhibition match between the reigning champion and the legend she once trained under.

Everyone showed up not just to watch Go, but to witness tension… history… and maybe a storm.

The room was smaller than the national stage, but packed to the edges. Cameramen. Reporters. Go enthusiasts. Friends. Even her father was there, sitting quietly.

And then — she walked in.

Y/n.

Clad in black — sleeveless blouse tucked into tailored slacks, hair tied up tight, lips pressed into a line of calm fury.

She didn’t scan the crowd.

Her eyes went straight to him.

Cho Hun-hyun was already seated. One leg crossed over the other, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. He was dressed in his signature grey coat, collar popped, jaw tight.

He looked older — five years of regret could do that. But still too beautiful. Still too dangerous.

The moment their eyes met, the air turned heavier.

Without a word, y/n stepped across the room, sat down across him, and placed her hand on the board.

The timer clicked.

The match began.

Cho was composed… outwardly. But his thoughts were fractured. The last time they met, she didn’t speak to him. Not one word. Not after that kiss. Not after she slammed the door in his face.

Now here she was again — not crying, not weak. But cold. Brilliant. Unreachable.

Her moves were ruthless.

His fingers hovered over the bowl of stones, indecisive — something the old Cho would’ve mocked in another player.

She didn’t even glance up at him. She just played.

Until—click.

The final move.

Cho’s eyes darted across the board, disbelief sinking in. He couldn’t see a path forward. Again.

And then—

“Match over,” the judge announced. “Winner: Y/n.”

The room exploded.

Cameras flashed. Applause erupted. Y/n rose gracefully from her seat. No smile. No bow. Just the same icy expression.

She turned and walked out of the room.

Cho stood quickly and walked behind her tok and called out— “Y/n.”

She didn’t stop.

He took two long strides and caught her by the wrist.

“Come with me.”

He dragged her into a quiet hallway just outside the main room. His grip was firm but not hurting.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

“No,” he said flatly, and pressed her gently against the wall. His hands caged her in on either side. His voice dropped. “I can’t lose you again. Not out of ego. Not because I was too proud to say I was wrong.”

Y/n stared at him, jaw clenched, breathing uneven. “You think a little regret will fix what you did?”

“I don’t care if it fixes it,” he whispered, eyes locking onto hers. “I just need you to hear me out. Please.”

A long silence passed between them.

“Fine,” she said at last. “Talk. But not here.”

The city passed by in a blur as the car drove them through the drizzle. Neither of them spoke. The silence was loud — full of every argument they didn’t have, every moment they missed.

Cho’s house was the same — minimalist, dimly lit, cold with steel and dark wood. But the tension between them made it feel fever-hot the moment the door closed.

Y/n stepped inside first, arms crossed, eyes scanning. He followed, slowly peeling off his coat and tossing it on the armchair.

She turned to him.

“Start talking.”

He faced her, hands in his pockets. “You were right that night… about everything. I pushed you away because I saw your potential. It terrified me.”

He paused, stepping closer.

“I told myself it was for your own good. That I was protecting you from distractions. But the truth is, I couldn’t handle the idea of you surpassing me. I didn’t want to admit that you already had.”

Y/n scoffed. “And the kiss? Was that ego too?”

Cho’s jaw clenched. “No. That was the only honest thing I’ve ever done with you.”

A beat passed. Heavy. Raw.

“I loved you,” he added, voice rough. “Maybe I still do.”

That was the crack in the dam.

Y/n surged forward, fists slamming into his chest. “You don’t get to say that! Not after what you did to me.”

He caught her wrists. “Then stop me. Say you hate me, and I’ll walk out. But if you don’t—”

She didn’t let him finish.

She kissed him.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was everything they buried for five years — rage, pain, guilt, obsession.

He slammed her against the wall as her hands tangled in his shirt, yanking the buttons loose. His lips found her neck, the one part of her he had always wanted to taste, and she gasped.

“Still arrogant,” she muttered.

“Still stubborn,” he growled back, lifting her by the thighs, walking blindly toward the bedroom.

They fell into the sheets like enemies on the battlefield. Clothes flew. Fingernails scratched. Teeth grazed.

He pinned her down, forehead against hers, breathing like a man starved.

“I should hate you,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“Then hate me,” he whispered back. “But don’t leave me.”

He didn’t make love to her.

He fought her.

And she fought back — every kiss a slap, every moan a challenge.

Until the war quieted… and they were still. Tangled together, breathless, flushed, skin against skin in the darkness.

The room was quiet now, lit only by the city lights outside the window. Cho’s hand lazily traced circles on her bare back as she lay against his chest, hair a mess, both still recovering from the storm they just survived.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, again. “For every second I made you feel less than what you are.”

Y/n didn’t say anything at first. Just rested there, listening to the beat of his heart.

Then—

“I forgive you,” she said. “But only because I destroyed you twice on that board.”

Cho smirked, eyes closed. “I don’t want trophies anymore.”

She looked up.

“As long as I have you for the rest of my life” he finished, opening his eyes, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Still dramatic.”

He kissed her again, slower this time.

Like surrender.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look in her eyes and whispered

"I love you"

"I love you too"

[likeanangell]

Thinking about….overprotective girldad!quinn

SYN. When your three year old daughter, Melody, is confused and teary after some girls make fun of her curly hair.

WARNINGS. teasing/bullying

AN. For my curly haired queens! (also peep Demi’s hair :)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🧁♡

“they said it’s ugly.”

her voice was so small you almost didn’t hear it.

Quinn’s hands stilled behind her head, gentle fingers frozen in middle of the braid.

you looked up from across the bathroom, mascara wand in hand.

“what, baby?”

melody sat on the counter in her little leotard, pale pink with satin ribbon crisscrossed over her tiny chest. she was all glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, fingers picking nervously at the tulle. her curls were damp from the morning spritz, one braid done, the other barely started.

she had been acting weird about going to ballet practice. You could only guess she couldn’t handle it anymore, and spilled

“my hair,” she said, blinking fast. “some girls said it’s ugly”

your heart dropped. Quinn’s face didn’t move, but you saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

“what girls?” he asked quietly.

melody shrugged. “just some in the class. they said it looks messy. and one girl said it’s so hard to look at.”

you blinked hard.

your hand lowered.

Quinn crouched slightly, brushing one of her golden spirals off her cheek. “did they say anything else?”

she nodded, eyes filling. “they said uhm … they said their mommies do their hair the right way. and that i should ask mommy to make mine flat.”

melody shifted on the counter, voice thick and shaky. “but I like it…”

Quinn’s fingers clenched at his sides.

he didn’t say anything for a second. just looked at her, looked at you. your eyes were already wet. she didn’t even realize what was happening … not really. she was just repeating things. things she’d heard. things she felt.

“baby,” you said softly, gently rubbing her back. “your hair is beautiful. so beautiful.”

she sniffled. “i know you think that.”

“and you know who else does?” Quinn asked, clearing his throat. “Your uncle Lukey, he has the same hair as you”

melody nodded slowly, “He said I look like a ballerina.”

“you are a ballerina,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “and ballerinas can have any kind of hair they want.”

you felt your throat burn as you watched him finish her braid while she stared at him through the mirror. he was quieter now. a little too quiet.

when melody hopped down from the counter to go grab her coat and shoes, Quinn’s jaw locked again.

“we’re talking to her teacher.” he said low.

you bit your lip. “Qui—”

“no.” he glanced at you. “i don’t care if they’re kids. i don’t care if it’s a ‘phase’ or if they ‘don’t know better.’ someone needs to tell them. i’ll do it nicely. but i’m not letting her think there’s something wrong with her.”

you nodded, wiping your cheeks.

“we could switch studios,” you said softly. “i don’t want her somewhere that makes her like that.”

“she loves it there,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “she loves the music and the teachers. she’s good there.”

you blinked hard, watching melody in the mirror, twirling in her tutu, her curls bouncing with each spin.

“okay,” you said, voice quiet.

and that afternoon, after class, you knelt beside melody while Quinn talked to her teacher, Mrs Greta.

She said that her and the other teachers had no idea that this was going on. They would be having chats with the girls and their parents about the situation.

in the car on the way home, with her water bottle in her lap and her bunny clutched in one hand, melody whispered

“i love you mommy, and daddy.”

Quinn reached back and squeezed her ankle gently.

“We love you more, baby”

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. Hope y’all enjoyed…and for the record I wouldn’t call this “overprotective” but I needed a title

[stlllle]

Stray Kids Headcanons — How They Act When They Miss You

Pairing: OT8 x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Soft Angsty Moments, Domestic Boyfriend Energy

Warnings: None, just pure soft chaos, mentions of longing, teasing and clingy boyfriends.

Author’s Note: Hey, angels 🖤! I’ve been cooking this headcanon for a while because let’s be honest — the Stray Kids are totally the type to miss their partner in the most ridiculous, cute and chaotic ways

If you like it and want to request something, feel free to! My requests are open 🙂 --

Masterlist –[link]

If you enjoy it, leave a comment or reblog, it means the world to me 🖤✨

Bang Chan — Habits he has when he misses you

---

Constantly checking his phone just to see if you’re online

Chan’s not usually clingy over text — in fact, he always tries to respect your space and not be that boyfriend. But when he misses you, he keeps unlocking his phone every two minutes to check if you’re online on KakaoTalk or Instagram.

Not even to text you — because he knows if he does, he’ll give away just how much he’s craving you, and Chris has this weird habit of pretending he’s got it under control.

His phone becomes an extension of his hand when you take too long to reply. Even when he’s in a meeting, he’ll sneak a glance just to see if your name pops up.

“Ugh… not even a story today?” he mumbles under his breath, shoving the phone back in his pocket — only to pull it out again twenty seconds later.

---

Looping the same song that reminds him of you

Bang Chan has this habit of connecting songs to people, and you have your own private playlist on his Spotify.

Whenever he misses you, he puts that one particular track that reminds him of you on repeat. It might be the first song you ever shared, or one you swore he didn’t like but secretly added to his saved list.

He listens to it while training, driving, or lying in bed.

If it gets really bad, he’ll lay down on the studio couch, hood pulled over his face, and just let the song play on loop.

“Why the hell did I let myself fall this hard, huh…” he whispers with a soft, defeated grin.

---

Hugging anything that smells like you

A hoodie you left behind, a T-shirt you wore at a sleepover, the pillowcase from his bed — when he misses you, he instinctively clings to anything that still has your scent on it.

It’s unconscious. He’ll grab the hoodie while lying down and only realize what he’s doing when someone points it out.

One time, Hyunjin walked into the studio to find Chan hugging your hoodie while working on his laptop.

“Yo… isn’t that Y/N’s?”

“Shut up.”

But didn’t let go.

---

Getting easily annoyed over dumb things

When he misses you, everything else starts to irritate him.

His computer freezes, Changbin leaves a mess in the studio, the coffee’s not sweet enough… it’s like your absence makes him extra sensitive and every tiny thing becomes an issue.

If anyone asks what’s wrong, he brushes it off, claiming he’s tired. But only Felix can tell by the way he fiddles with the bracelet you gave him and stays unusually quiet.

---

Rewatching your old videos and voice notes

Chan’s a silent emotional type.

When he misses you, he opens your old videos and voice notes — even the dumb ones where you’re ranting about a headache or lying in bed whispering a goodnight.

He’s never deleted a single one. He even has a secret folder.

His favorite? A video of you in pajamas, hair messy, smiling sleepily:

“You’re ignoring me, huh? It’s fine… just wanted to say I miss you.”

He watches it three times before bed when the ache hits.

“You have no idea how much I miss you too, baby…” he mutters to his screen.

---

Overworking himself at the gym or studio

When he can’t be near you, Chan tries to bury himself in work. Extra dance practice, long studio hours, random remix ideas for songs that don’t need remixes — anything to distract his brain.

But it never works.

Halfway through editing, he’ll catch himself typing your name in the file name or hiding a message in the beat.

“‘MissYouY/N.mp3’? Seriously, bro… I’m screwed.”

But he won’t delete it.

---

Staring at you nonstop on video calls

When you finally FaceTime, he can’t stop staring.

Even when you’re rambling about the most random stuff, he watches you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

Chan’s got this habit of admiring you quietly — studying your face, the way your hair falls, how you bite your lip when you’re thinking.

When you catch him and ask “What?”, he just shrugs:

“Nothing… just thinking about how pretty you are.”

---

Biting his lip without realizing it

It’s physical.

When he misses you, he starts biting his lower lip, sometimes leaving a mark. Especially when he’s typing a message and deleting it, or passing by a place you used to hang out.

It’s so obvious the guys pick up on it immediately.

“You’re doing the lip thing again. Missing Y/N?”

He rolls his eyes but never denies it.

---

Sending you random gifts anonymously

Chan has this habit of sending you little things when he misses you — but he won’t say it’s from him.

A bouquet at your office, your favorite snack left at your door, a tiny plush keychain… he’ll have staff or a delivery service drop it off without a name attached.

But you always know.

Because only he would pick something that perfect.

And when you mention it over the phone “I got a weird little surprise today”, he feigns surprise:

“Really? Must be someone who likes you a lot…”

---

Talking to you in his head

As cheesy as it sounds, he does this.

When he’s too busy, too far, or too shy to text you first, he has full-blown conversations with you in his head.

Imagining what you’d say to his jokes, how you’d react to his rants.

Sometimes he even chuckles to himself.

“You’d laugh at this, wouldn’t you?”

It’s his little way of keeping you close.

---

Lee Know — Habits he has when he misses you

---

Staring at your pictures on his phone

Minho isn’t glued to his phone 24/7, but when he misses you, he opens his gallery and scrolls through your photos together.

Even though he’s seen them a thousand times, he always finds some new detail — the way you smile, how you hold his hand, the sunset in the background.

He stares at the screen in silence with a small, bittersweet grin.

“Tsk… look at this silly face…”

And keeps staring anyway.

---

Watching cat videos to distract himself

To trick his brain, Lee Know has this habit of watching random cat TikToks when he misses you.

It’s his way of pretending he’s not thinking about you.

But deep down, he wishes you were next to him, watching those videos together.

Sometimes, he saves the best ones to send you later.

“Y/N’s gonna love this one.”

---

Playing with the rings or bracelets you gave him

Minho’s surprisingly sentimental, though he’ll never admit it.

When he misses you, he starts fiddling with the rings or bracelets you gave him — spinning them on his finger or tracing them with his thumb.

It’s unconscious.

If someone asks, he’ll dodge the question, but his eyes give him away.

---

Getting quieter than usual

Normally playful and sarcastic, Lee Know turns silent when he misses you.

His replies get short, jokes disappear, and he keeps to himself.

Only those closest to him notice it — Chan and Hyunjin clock it immediately.

“Dude, just text Y/N before you get unbearable.”

---

Practicing choreography until exhaustion

He throws himself into dancing.

When the ache gets too strong, Minho heads to the studio and practices until his body can’t anymore.

It’s his way of releasing tension and trying not to overthink.

He can spend all night there.

“If I get tired enough, I’ll fall asleep without missing her.”

(But it never works.)

---

Keeping unsent messages

His phone’s notes app is full of things he wishes he could tell you.

Photos he saw and thought of you, a quick “I miss you,” random thoughts — but his pride (and fear of being clingy) stop him from hitting send.

They just sit there, waiting.

---

Imagining conversations with you

When he misses you, Minho starts having conversations with you in his head.

He imagines your reactions, the things you’d say if he told you something dumb he did, or you scolding him for acting reckless.

Sometimes, it even makes him laugh.

“Y/N would kill me for this.”

---

Staring at places you used to go together

If he passes by a café or street you both used to visit, he stops and stares for a while, replaying the memories in his head.

If no one’s around, he might even go inside to feel closer to you again.

---

Staying up too late

Minho hates sleeping without saying goodnight to you.

When he misses you, he stays up scrolling aimlessly, hoping you’ll come online or message him first.

And when you finally do, his mood flips instantly.

“Took you long enough…”

(But he’s smiling like an idiot.)

---

Saving food for you

Even when you’re not around, he subconsciously saves part of his snack or the best bite of his meal for you.

It’s automatic.

Later, he realizes what he’s done and gets annoyed at himself for being so soft.

“Tsk… ridiculous.”

But still doesn’t throw it away.

--

Changbin — Habits he has when he misses you

---

Recording voice notes just to hear himself saying your name

Changbin misses you in this intense, restless way sometimes.

He records little voice notes saying your name or your pet names — just to listen to them later.

He never sends them, though. Keeps them saved.

Listens to them before bed or on the way to practice.

“Hey, Y/N… miss you, damn it.”

Then laughs at himself for being so cheesy — but never deletes them.

---

Sleeping hugging your-scented pillow

He’d never admit it, but there’s a pillow that still smells like you from the last time you stayed over.

When he misses you, he hugs it like it’s you.

Face buried in it, grumbling at how soft he’s being.

“Pathetic, Changbin… but it feels good.”

---

Writing rap lyrics about you

His favorite way to vent is writing.

And when he misses you, all his lyrics end up being about you — about the ache, the words he can’t say out loud, the emptiness without you.

He writes them secretly in his notes or the studio.

Never shows them to anyone. Not even Chan.

---

Stress-eating junk food

Changbin loves snacks, but when he misses you, he goes all out.

Devours everything in the dorm, orders midnight food deliveries, drinks soda when he’s supposed to be cutting down.

“Y/N would scold the hell outta me if they saw this.”

And still eats it anyway.

---

Getting moody and extra sensitive

He turns into a grumpy, clingy bear disguised as an annoyed grump.

Gets mad easily, hates being teased, snaps back, and any joke about you makes him shut down.

Just hearing your name makes his chest tighten.

“Stop talking about Y/N already…”

Though secretly hoping you’ll show up out of nowhere.

---

Listening to your shared playlists

Changbin saves every song you both liked or listened to together.

When he misses you, he pops in his earbuds and listens to them on repeat.

Sometimes, one special song gets stuck on loop.

He lies in bed, singing softly to himself, thinking about you.

---

Sending memes just to start a conversation

When he’s missing you but too shy to say it outright, he sends you memes, dumb stickers or TikToks just to get your attention.

If you take too long to reply, he sends another. And another.

“Look at this. It’s so you.”

Just to get a “you idiot” back from you.

---

Stalking your old Instagram posts

Changbin shamelessly scrolls through your Instagram.

Rewatches your old posts, reads the comments, smiles to himself, and regrets not liking more of your selfies before.

Sometimes he even comments on old pics to see if you’ll notice.

---

Locking himself in the studio

When the missing gets too heavy, he hides in the studio.

Dims the lights, plays a random beat and either writes or sits scrolling through his phone, hoping you’ll message.

Nobody can drag him out when he’s like that.

---

Imagining you two living together

Yeah — Changbin’s a lowkey hopeless romantic.

When he misses you, he starts imagining you living together — waiting for him at home, watching movies, sharing snacks, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Sometimes he even writes about it.

“Pathetic, but it’d be perfect.”

Hyunjin — Habits He Has When He Misses You

---

Playing with the bracelet or ring you gave him

Hyunjin is super sentimental when it comes to meaningful things. If you gave him a bracelet, ring, or necklace, it’s sacred.

Every time he misses you, he plays with it, spins it on his finger, traces its details, and stares at it.

If someone notices and asks, he just says:

“Nothing… just thinking.”

But inside, he’s drowning in missing you.

---

Drawing your face or things that remind him of you

When he misses you, Hyunjin locks himself in his room or art studio and starts sketching.

It could be your sleeping face, your smile, your profile, or something that reminds him of you — a flower, a star, or a little note that says “come back soon.”

His sketchbook has pages you have no idea about.

And he never throws them away.

---

Writing letters he never sends

Hyunjin has this habit of writing letters as if he were talking to you.

He vents about his day, talks about missing you, describes the things he wishes he could be doing with you, and finishes with lines like:

“If you were here now, everything would be better.”

He keeps these letters in a small wooden box in his closet.

---

Spraying your perfume on his pillow before sleeping

On days when missing you hurts too much, Hyunjin sprays your perfume on his pillow or bed sheets.

He lies down, closes his eyes, and imagines it’s you.

He whispers your name softly and smiles, but sometimes he tears up.

“Just a little longer… just until I fall asleep.”

---

Creating playlists full of sad love songs

Hyunjin is the king of themed playlists.

He has one just for songs about missing someone, long-distance love, and aching for a hug.

When he misses you, he plays that list, lies on his bed or the floor, stares at the ceiling, and lets the music speak for him.

Each song reminds him of a specific moment with you.

---

Stalking your social media and accidentally liking old posts

He’s constantly checking your Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok.

He watches your stories over and over, replays your reels where you smile, and even reads the comments under your photos.

Sometimes he accidentally likes an old post, panics, and unlikes it right away — but it’s too late.

“Shit… now she’s gonna think I’m desperate.”

(He totally is.)

---

Talking about you nonstop to the members

Hyunjin can’t hide it when he misses you.

He keeps telling stories, remembering silly things you two did, and randomly says stuff like:

“Ah, Y/N loved this food.”

“This reminds me of her.”

“She would’ve done this better.”

The members just roll their eyes and smile knowingly.

---

Typing messages and deleting them before sending

He writes huge declarations at night, long texts about how much he misses you, how he dreamt about you, and how he just wants to hear your voice.

But in the end, he always deletes everything.

“What for? She’s probably busy… never mind.”

And does this almost every night.

---

Wearing your clothes you left at his place

If you ever left a hoodie, T-shirt, or anything at his place, Hyunjin wears it.

He buries himself in it like a hug.

It’s where he feels safe and a little closer to you.

“Ridiculous, but comforting.”

If someone knocks on his door, he throws it across the room to avoid teasing.

---

Sending Dwaekki videos to you

He knows Dwaekki makes you laugh, so when missing you gets too heavy, he records a video of his plushie and sends it, pretending it’s Dwaekki messaging you.

“Hi Y/N, come back soon, Hyunjin’s insufferable with longing.”

Then hides from embarrassment.

---

Spacing out during rehearsals

During practice, he often zones out when he’s missing you.

He forgets steps, misses his marks, and takes too long to respond.

He’ll just stand there staring into space, imagining you smiling or lying on his lap.

If someone calls him out, he blames it on exhaustion.

---

Listening to your old voice notes and videos

He has a hidden folder on his phone full of your voice notes, videos, and selfies.

When he misses you, he opens it, plays your good night audios, your silly laughs, and those times you called him “my prince.”

Sometimes he falls asleep holding his phone, listening to your voice.

---

Talking to himself in the mirror

Yes, he talks to his reflection.

He rehearses things he wishes he could say to you, like:

“Why aren’t you here?”

“I miss you so much, Y/N.”

“You should’ve seen how beautiful the sky looked today…”

Then he laughs at himself and gets sad all over again.

---

Dreaming about you and waking up even lonelier

When he finally sleeps, he usually dreams of you.

In those dreams, you’re holding hands, traveling, laughing, sharing desserts, or just lying down talking.

He wakes up with his chest heavy and missing you even more.

“I wish I could’ve stayed dreaming.”

---

Texting the members for advice

When it gets too bad, he texts Chan, Han, or Felix asking what he should do.

Should he call you, wait, or just send a meme?

Most of the time, he decides to stay quiet.

“I don’t know… I’ll just draw.”

---

Keeping every tiny thing you gave him

If you gave him a doodle, a flower, a movie ticket, a candy wrapper, anything — he keeps it.

He has a box full of those little things, and when he misses you, he opens it and goes through everything just to feel close again.

---

Practicing choreo wondering if you’d like it

Every time there’s a new song, he imagines if you’d like the choreography, which part you’d find coolest or hottest.

Sometimes he practices harder just thinking it might impress you.

---

Saving places he wants to take you

Whenever he sees a cute café, an art exhibit, or a new restaurant, he saves it on his phone.

“Take Y/N here.”

The list already has over 20 places.

Han Jisung — His Habits When He Misses You

---

Eating junk food like the world’s ending

Han deals with missing you by eating literally everything he finds.

Snacks, cookies, chocolate, ice cream — you name it.

The other members always notice it right away:

“Missing Y/N again, huh?”

And he just pouts and keeps chewing.

---

Writing songs about you and hiding them

Jisung loves writing songs, you know that.

But when he misses you, he secretly writes lyrics about you — some are cute, wishing you were there, and others are sad, about feeling lonely or frustrated.

Then he never has the guts to show them to you.

They’re all saved in a secret folder on his laptop.

“Maybe one day… or not.”

---

Staring at his phone waiting for your message

He opens and closes your chat over and over, checks if you’re online, if you posted something, if you liked a post.

Sometimes he even types:

“Miss u”

And deletes it.

Every 5 minutes.

---

Watching all your silly videos together

He has a gallery full of dumb videos you two made: dubbing memes, dancing badly, laughing at stupid things.

When he misses you, he watches them and laughs alone.

And keeps saying:

“You idiot, why do I like you this much?”

---

Talking about you non-stop

Jisung can’t hide it.

Whenever he misses you, literally every topic turns into an excuse to mention you:

“Y/N would’ve done it better.”

“She loves this drama.”

“This reminds me of that one time with her.”

And the guys just look at him like:

“Dude, just confess already.”

---

Setting your photo as his wallpaper (and changing it back out of embarrassment)

Every time the missing gets too strong, he sets your photo as his lockscreen.

But then he gets embarrassed someone might see it and changes it to a meme.

“Okay… no one saw, I’m fine.”

Then switches back to your pic at night.

---

Talking to the stuffed animal you gave him

You gave him a little stuffed animal, and when he misses you, he actually talks to it.

“She won’t text me back… think she’s busy? I’m being dumb, huh?”

Then hugs it to sleep.

---

Telling bad jokes to distract himself

When he’s missing you, he keeps making terrible jokes to try and laugh and distract himself.

No one finds them funny.

He ends up laughing alone, thinking of you.

“At least Y/N would laugh, for sure.”

---

Sleeping with your hoodie

If you ever left a hoodie or shirt with him — forget it, it’s sacred now.

He sleeps hugging it, burying his face in it just to feel your scent, and only then he manages to fall asleep.

“I’m becoming a freak… but whatever.”

---

Gaming until his hands hurt

When he misses you too much, he sits in front of the computer and plays nonstop.

FPS, LOL, whatever.

Until his fingers go numb.

It’s the only way to stop thinking about you for a while.

Felix — His Habits When He Misses You

---

Recording cute voice notes for you but never sending them

Felix always records little voice notes when he misses you.

Saying he misses you, telling you about his day, or just calling your name in that soft, deep voice.

Then he listens to it, gets shy and never sends it.

He keeps them saved like little love letters you’ll never hear.

“Aigoo… this is so embarrassing…”

---

Baking cookies or cakes thinking about you

Whenever he’s missing you too much, he goes to the kitchen.

Makes cookies, cupcakes, or any sweet thing he knows you love.

Sometimes he calls the members to eat together, but always keeps one especially for you in the fridge.

“This one’s for Y/N… don’t touch it, Changbin!”

---

Hugging his pillow and pretending it’s you

Felix has a hard time sleeping when he misses you badly.

So he hugs his pillow tight, buries his face in it, and runs his hand over it like he’s stroking your hair.

Sometimes he even whispers:

“Good night, baby.”

---

Staring at your pictures and videos until he knows them by heart

He spends hours going through your selfies, videos, and old clips you two made together.

Laughing alone, commenting to himself:

“You’re literally the most beautiful person in the world, you know?”

And keeps repeating it like you could hear him.

---

Sending you random heart or teddy bear emojis

Felix hates disturbing you when you’re busy but misses you just the same.

So he sends a single heart or teddy bear emoji, hoping you’ll get the hint and message him first.

And if you reply — he melts.

“Aaaa she texted back! 😭💖”

---

Getting unusually quiet and thoughtful

Felix is always so bright and bubbly, so when he suddenly gets quiet, everyone notices.

He’ll sit somewhere alone, fiddling with his rings or necklace, just waiting for a notification from you.

“Missing her like crazy, hyung…”

(To the other members)

---

Writing little notes for you

He loves to write tiny notes saying:

“I miss you.”

“Thought of you today.”

“Come back soon.”

Then keeps them in a box or in his jacket pocket.

Sometimes when you meet, he shyly hands you one without a word.

---

Staring at your shared playlist

Felix made a playlist with you, and when the missing gets too strong, he puts it on repeat.

Sings along, closes his eyes, and pretends you’re there next to him.

And when your favorite song plays — instant emotional meltdown.

---

Wearing the bracelet or ring you gave him

If you gave him a matching accessory, he wears it all the time.

Sometimes kisses the bracelet or fiddles with the ring while thinking about you.

And if anyone notices, he’ll just smile shyly.

“It reminds me of her…”

---

Writing your name on his hand

When the longing gets too painful, Felix writes your name or nickname on his palm.

Then keeps looking at it throughout the day, like it’ll make him feel closer to you.

“Okay… I feel a little better now.”

---

Seungmin — His Habits When He Misses You

---

Listening to your old voice messages

Seungmin isn’t the type to openly admit he misses you, but he feels it — hard.

He keeps every voice message you’ve sent, and when he misses you, he plugs in his earphones and listens to them over and over.

Especially the ones where you laugh or call his name sweetly.

“That laugh… damn, I miss it.”

---

Dropping hints on Instagram stories or in the members' comments

Seungmin is a little menace sometimes.

When he misses you, he posts a sad love song or a quote on his story, or comments under other members’ photos things like:

“Would be better if she was here.”

Just to get your attention and make you message him.

---

Wearing your hoodie or shirt that still smells like you

If you ever left a hoodie at his place, or if he stole one (which he definitely did), Seungmin wears it when the missing gets unbearable.

Lies in bed hugging it, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to feel your scent.

“Just for a little while.”

---

Rewatching dumb videos you made together

He secretly has a folder on his phone just for videos of you two.

Clips of you complaining, making faces, teasing him, or telling him you love him.

When he misses you, he replays them, laughs by himself and feels that bittersweet ache.

---

Typing huge messages then deleting them

Seungmin will type long paragraphs about how much he misses you, how important you are to him…

Then stare at the screen, sigh, and delete everything.

Leaving the chat open, hoping you’ll text first.

“Pathetic… whatever.”

---

Watching the dramas or animes you used to binge together

When the loneliness hits, he puts on one of the shows you both watched.

Acts like it’s no big deal, but ends up laughing at scenes you loved or hated.

“She’d totally freak out here.”

---

Gaming until late just to distract himself

Seungmin buries himself in games to stop thinking about how much he misses you.

But every time he wins a match or pulls off an insane play, he turns like you’d be there to cheer him on.

“If Y/N was here… tsk.”

---

Sending pictures of his dog with captions meant for you

He’ll send a cute pic of his dog in the group chat or directly to you with something like:

“I think he misses you.”

But it’s him, obviously.

---

Falling asleep listening to your voice or leaving a silent call open

On bad days, Seungmin plays one of your old voice notes on loop while falling asleep.

Or stays in a call with you on mute or even after you’ve hung up — just to have your name on his screen a little longer.

---

Staring at your chat, waiting for a message

He keeps his phone in his hand, opens and closes your chat, types random letters and deletes them.

Sighs, rolls his eyes, and mumbles to himself:

“Could’ve just messaged me already…”

--

Jeongin (I.N) — His Habits When He Misses You

---

Constantly checking his phone just to see if you’re online

Jeongin is the type who won’t admit he misses you out loud, but his phone gives him away.

He keeps opening Instagram, checking your stories, seeing if you liked something, and when the longing hits harder, he opens your chat just to check if your online status is on.

Sometimes he even types “hey”, deletes it… types “miss you”, deletes it again.

Sighs. Puts his phone on his chest.

“Aish… idiot, hurry up and get online.”

---

Hugging his pillow and talking to it like it’s you

Jeongin has this habit of talking to objects when he misses someone.

Whether it’s his pillow, a plushie you gave him, or his blanket — he’ll lie down hugging it and start complaining as if you’re right there.

“You left me alone here, huh? Having fun without me, aren’t you? Tsk, wait ‘til we see each other again.”

And when he realizes what he’s doing, he laughs, hides his face in the pillow and mumbles.

---

Sending dumb memes just to start a conversation

He saves every ridiculous meme he finds online just to send you later.

And he loves sending them in the middle of the night, knowing you’ll either wake up laughing or cursing him out.

“If you don’t laugh at this, don’t talk to me anymore.”

When you answer, he acts like he wasn’t even missing you, just wanted to see if you’re still your grumpy self.

---

Eating your favorite snack and complaining to himself

Whenever he misses you, he runs to the convenience store and buys that snack or candy you two always shared.

He sits on the couch, turns on any random TV show, and eats slowly.

Sometimes he holds onto the last piece and teases:

“You’d want this one, wouldn’t you? Too bad, it’s mine.”

And eats it just to annoy you, even if you’re not there.

---

Remembering inside jokes and laughing by himself in front of the others

He just can’t help it.

If he’s hanging out with the members and someone says a word or a situation pops up that reminds him of a private joke you two have, Jeongin starts laughing alone.

The hyungs look at him, and he shakes his head:

“Nothing, just remembered something.”

But in his mind, the exact ridiculous scene is playing, the one only you two would laugh about.

---

Sleeping while hugging his phone

When the longing really hits, he lies in bed, puts your last selfie as his wallpaper, and falls asleep hugging his phone.

Now and then, he unlocks it just to look at your picture and murmurs:

“I miss you, you know that?”

Sometimes he even records a voice note, but never sends it.

---

Talking about you to the hyungs without realizing it

Jeongin doesn’t realize how often he talks about you until someone points it out.

Out of nowhere, in the middle of a conversation:

“Ah, Y/N likes this too.”

“Y/N would do better.”

“Y/N would totally roast this.”

Until Changbin or Seungmin nudges him:

“Dude, just confess already or shut up.”

He turns red and quickly changes the subject.

---

Wearing the perfume you love on him to feel closer

There’s a specific perfume he knows you’re obsessed with.

When he misses you, Jeongin sprays it on himself, even leans in to sniff and says out loud:

“If she smelled this now, she’d melt.”

Even if no one’s in the room.

---

Singing your songs everywhere — in the shower, his room, the studio

Being the vocal prince that he is, when he misses you, Jeongin hums or sings the songs that remind him of you.

In the shower, while cooking, during practice, or even mid-rehearsal.

And if someone notices, he brushes it off:

“It’s stuck in my head, what can I do?”

---

Texting something provocative just to make you reply, then disappearing

He truly feels the ache when he sends:

“Bet you forgot about me, huh? Miss you, brat.”

And then vanishes, just to leave you annoyed or curious.

He waits for your reply, grins at the screen, but purposely takes his sweet time to text back.

Just to keep the little teasing game alive — because he loves the feeling of having you thinking about him.

---

The end

[belli5]

Out Of Reach .ᐟ ೀMC⁷¹

╰ Synopsis Macklin is super protective of his girlfriend when people online get mean and say rude things about you, because he wants you to feel safe and loved no matter what.

Tags/contains Fluff, Angst(tiny bit), Macklin Celebrini x fem!reader, online harassment, comfort, not proofread(yet).

➺ from Sera, to you 📨. I kinda went off the script so my apologies to the anon, because I’m so tired and I just wanna go to sleep so I’ll proofread this tomorrow.

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it! Please do NOT rewrite/repost my work anywhere else without permission!

It started small, a couple of tagged photos, a blurry shot of you and Macklin outside a restaurant, his hand low on your back like he couldn’t stand not to touch you, even with the cameras around.

You didn’t even know the photo existed until you woke up the next morning, still tangled in his sheets, phone vibrating with the first of a hundred notifications.

Macklin Celebrini’s girlfriend confirmed! Who is she? She’s so plain, omg. Imagine pulling a guy like that, you know she’s a freak. I’d let him ruin my life. She better watch out lmaoo, he’ll get bored.

At first, you laughed it off. Mack was still half asleep, hair stuck up in every direction, voice scratchy when he asked what was so funny. You read him a few of the nicer ones—she’s so cute, they look happy—and skipped over the rest.

But it didn’t stop. Every time you opened your phone, it was there. Dms from strangers you’d never met, fake profiles reposting your old pictures, edits of you side by side with girls Macklin had never even looked at,

he could do so much better. Why her? Bet she’s just a puck bunny.

You never told him about the worst ones, but Macklin notices. Of course he does.

It’s a week after the Sharks big win, when he finally corners you about it. He’s home early from practice, your laptop open on the couch next to you, half written essay forgotten as you scroll mindlessly through your phone. You don’t even realize you’re doing it, thumb flicking through another thread of strangers dissecting every picture you’ve ever posted.

You feel him before you hear him, the warm weight of his hand on you, the couch dipping under his knee as he crowds into your space.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice careful. “What’s got you frowning like that?”

You jump a little, clicking your phone off like you’ve been caught doing something wrong. “Nothing,” you lie, too quickly. “..bored.”

He doesn’t buy it. He nudges your knee aside and he leans in. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that, right?”

You roll your eyes, trying to twist away, but he catches your chin in his hand, tilting your face up until you’re forced to meet his. His brows pinch together when he sees the guilt there.

“Babe,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “It’s stupid.”

“Doesn’t look stupid.” He glances at your phone, locked and abandoned beside you. “It’s the online shit again?”

You swallow, throat tight. “It’s fine. It’s just noise, people get bored, and they say stuff.”

He doesn’t look convinced. He pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, his touch achingly gentle. “Show me.”

You hesitate. “Mack—”

“Please.”

So you do, you unlock your phone, scroll back through the endless screenshots you swore you’d ignore. He takes it from you, resting his hand on your thigh as he reads in silence. You feel the shift in him like a pulse, the slow, rising tension in his chest as his jaw ticks, his fingers flexing where they grip your thigh.

When he finally sets your phone down, his voice is calm. “How long have you been reading this?”

You shrug. “A while. It’s not that bad—”

“Don’t do that.” His tone is sharp enough to make you flinch, but then he’s soft again, thumb tracing soothing circles on your knee. “Don’t downplay it. They’re talking about you like you’re not a person.”

You breathe out a shaky laugh. “They’re not wrong. I mean, look at you, Mack, you’re you and I’m just—”

“Hey.” His voice cuts you off, firm. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You press your lips together, but he isn’t done. He shifts closer, crowding into your space. “You know what I see when I look at you?” he asks quietly.

You roll your eyes, but he gives your thigh a playful squeeze. “Answer me.”

“Mack—”

“Nope, not letting you brush this off. What do I see?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. Your girlfriend?”

He snorts. “Yeah. My girlfriend. The girl who puts up with my insane schedule. Who learned how to cook chicken because I couldn’t even boil pasta without setting off the smoke alarm. The girl who puts on my ugly shirts every night and falls asleep drooling on my chest.”

“Hey!” You smack his chest lightly but he just laughs, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“You’re mine,” he says, all teasing gone, voice low and certain. “And that means I look out for you, even from dumbasses on the internet.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, mumbling, “You can’t fight the internet, Mack.”

“Watch me.” He pulls back just enough to see your face, his eyes bright with a stubborn look you know too well. “I’ll get PR to flag the worst accounts, I’ll tell my agent to call out any fake stories. And you—” He tips your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You are not reading that shit anymore.”

You snort, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hoodie. “What, you’re gonna take my phone away?”

He grins. “If I have to.”

You stick your tongue out at him but he just laughs, scooping you closer until you’re sprawled in his lap, your laptop wedged between you and the couch. He grabs it and snaps it shut without even asking, tossing it onto the coffee table.

“Hey!” you protest weakly.

“You’re done for tonight,” he says firmly, nosing at your temple. “You’ve got me now, way better than looking at Twitter.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing. “God, you’re so cute when you’re trying to be protective.”

He hums, lips brushing your cheek as he talks. “Yeah, yeah, deal with it.”

[the-shedevil-writes]

Build-A-Bear (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Ever since you started dating Bob, his wardrobe’s had a serious glow-up, thanks to your love of dressing him up like your own personal Build-A-Bear. But on a lazy mall day, you challenge him to return the favor, asking him to pick out an outfit for you. WORD COUNT: 2.8k WARNINGS: Fluff/Domestic fluff, Reader loves gift giving, jokes/implications of smut. NOTES: Happy 4th! Here's me manifesting a boyfriend to dress up. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Dressing up Bob was Y/n’s favorite thing to do. And the man never protested. How could he when he’d show up to The Hard Deck in an outfit she had picked to impress the Dagger Squad? His style had improved drastically since starting to date her. 

It began with her giving him simple shirts that were a little nicer than his old ones. Some of his old shirts were still from high school, so it was nice to have some options that didn’t look like rags. She was a gift-giver, and Bob had to quickly get used to that. Then it slowly devolved to him asking her for fashion advice just to see her face light up with excitement. 

What Bob enjoyed about it, was that she never put him in clothes that didn’t match his vibe. She never tried to make him into someone he’s not- with leather jackets or sports jerseys. The outfits were usually simple and practical. A more simplistic T-shirt that fit him a little more snugly than his old ones, tucked into a nice pair of jeans or slacks. She’d find a matching baseball cap or dad hat. It had gotten to the point where they shared a collection of hats. They loved gifting each other caps, just to add to the pile they could dig through before leaving. 

And she never made him take off his glasses. She never asked him to get contacts. And when he asked her why she never suggested it, she smiled.

“I think they’re cute.” 

No one had ever said that before. The military-grade wireframes were just a little too big for his face, and they looked like they were plucked straight from an 80s movie. But they were the only ones he was allowed to wear that didn’t look like swim goggles. 

So when his girl said that, he couldn’t help the smile and red blush that spread across his apple cheeks. The compliment was so simple, yet every time he wore his glasses, he thought of it and felt his heart melt into a puddle.

It was a warm Saturday morning, and Bob walked into the bedroom to find his girlfriend combing through her closet. She popped her hip out and put her hand to her chin in thought. Bob leaned against the door frame.

“Where you headed?” He asked curiously

She turned, “I think it’s a good day to go to the mall. Wanna come with?” 

Bob nodded. A day at the mall with his girl sounded perfect, and it’s not like he had anything else to do. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and she reached up to pat his cheek. As she scratched the back of his scalp, he closed his eyes relaxed. 

“Wanna dress me?” He asked

And he got the reaction he always did. A beaming smile from her and a very eager nod. 

“I was thinking about getting some new shirts for you today, too.” She said, smiling.

He chuckled, “Baby, you do too much.” 

She shrugged and looked at their reflection in the closet mirror. After a moment, a mischievous grin appeared on her face. 

“I have an idea.” 

Bob raised a brow. “Should I be scared?”

“I need some new clothes myself. How about… I dress you and you dress me? Maybe then you’ll understand why I love dressing you up so much.” 

He smiled shyly and shook his head. “Oh, I know nothing about fashion, though.”

“There’s gotta be things you wanna see me in.” She smirked a little, and that made Bob blush and huff again, “I mean- you like it when I wear certain things too.” He hated that his mind went immediately to her bathing suits. But then he also remembered some of the dresses she’d wear to The Hard Deck. He loved seeing her legs and anything that accentuated her hips. But he’d never specifically ask her to wear anything like that. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable for his sake. 

“Okay, but we don’t have to buy anything I pick out.” He said softly

“It’ll be great. Here- why don’t we start at home first? Test run. I’ll dress you, then you dress me.” She said, turning around to be face to face him now.

He nodded.

Thirty minutes later, he stood in a typical Y/n fit for him. A white T-shirt, this one a little baggier, tucked into brow corduroy trousers and a belt. She put a navy blue hat on him that they had gotten from the Top Gun store. Well, he had bought it for her, and she loved making him wear it. Her tongue stuck out of her lip as she focused on adjusting his hair under the hat. A watch laid on his wrist, and he stood in a pair of brown Doc-like shoes.

“There.” She stood back, looking over his outfit, pleased with herself. “You look very handsome, Lieutenant Floyd.” 

He blushed at the title, “Only because of you.”

Her eyes lit up. “My turn.” She led him to the closet and opened it. “Go ahead. Have at it.” His eyes widened, and he walked up to her side of the closet. “I-I don’t even know where to start.”

She laughed, and he started combing through the racks. He tried to think of some outfits that she had worn before. What were some things that she liked to wear? It was a warmer day, but he also knew she got cold easily, so he needed to find something lightweight that covered her arms for when they were indoors. 

He brought out a soft green button-up top that he liked the material of. He showed it to her with a hesitant eyebrow raise, and she laughed.

“Yes, I can wear that.”

He looked back at the closet and went to the section of the bottoms. He found a pair of tan linen shorts and put the two hangers together. His brows scrunched up, trying to figure out if it was a good match before nodding to himself. The whole time, he could hear her giggle as she watched him through his thought process. He picked out a dark brown belt and a khaki Ralph Lauren jacket that he knew fit a little oversized on her. 

“Would this work?” He asked, showing her the hangers.

She smiled and looked over his choices. “Yes. I think this would be great.” 

After she got dressed, she spun for Bob. He did a pretty good job. No clashing colors and the fit of everything was nice. 

“Look at you. You’re a natural.” She commented, “I’m gonna wear this combination more.”

He was too busy staring in awe to respond. Yeah, he was starting to understand why she loved dressing him so much. She looked so pretty, and even though she always did in his eyes, he took this new sense of pride in picking that outfit. His hand was to his mouth as he admired her. She let the jacket hang over her shoulders, showing the outline of her body in the shirt and shorts. 

She noticed his silence and giggled, “You get it now?”

He nodded with a blushing smile. “Yes. Yes, I get it now.”

“It’s like having a human Build-A-Bear.” She nodded enthusiastically, making him suddenly laugh loudly.

“Yeah-yeah, I guess it’s a little like that.” He smiled. 

She put her hand out, and when he took it, she pulled him off the bed. She looked up at him, and his heart pounded in his chest. They’d been dating for close to two years at this point and he still got butterflies looking at her. And the fact that she was wearing the outfit he put together just intensified it. 

He gently brushed her hair out of her face.

“Ready to go, pretty girl?” He asked

She nodded, “Yup! Wanna hit Hard Deck after the mall? I think Bradley said something about wanting to get a group to go tonight.”

“Would love to.” He kissed her forehead.

Usually at H&M, it was Y/n scouring the sales racks while Bob followed her around like a lost dog. He’d sometimes hold onto a bag of greasy mall food so they could share. She’d look through both the men's and women's sections because she knew there’d be stuff for either one of them. And he’d talk and joke with her. If she pulled out a shirt for him, he’d say whether he liked it or not, which was usually a passive yes. 

But now he was trying to participate with her. She looked up at him with a smile as he looked through the racks… Still lost. He picked out what seemingly looked like a strip of fabric. 

“Is this a… skirt? Or a bandana?” He asked 

She laughed, “Tube top. I don’t really wear those much.”

He put it back. “Alrighty.” He timidly looked around. 

She gasped and grabbed a sage green Carhartt sweater. “This would be very cute on you. What do you think?” 

He rubbed his neck with a smile, “Baby, you know I’ll wear quite literally anything. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She laughed and draped the sweater on her arm. “Here, I’ll give you some pointers for me. I don’t wear many tube tops. Any tight clubbing dresses won’t really be of use to me because I have some already. So I’m looking for just nicer casual clothes.”

He nodded, understanding. Okay, that narrows it down. Combing through the racks, he still wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Yeah, sure, there were graphic T-shirts that said Harvard and New York on them, but he was a little confused, considering neither of them had a connection there. Why would they wear something with a random city or college on it?

Then he paused once he hit the dresses. His eyes immediately froze on a short white halter dress, and when he looked closer, he found little embroidered cherries all over it. He pictured her wearing it, and a small smile appeared on his face. But he also didn’t know if this was casual enough. He also couldn’t tell if she’d find it tacky, which he knew she tended to do with prints. 

He looked up and saw her looking down another aisle. She heard him pause and looked over her shoulder. “Find something?”

“I don’t know.” He said conflicted, “I don’t know if you’ll like it.” She walked over to the opposite side of his rack. “Show me.”

He pulled out the dress and held it up delicately- as if it were a bomb.

“That’s so cute! I’ll try it on.” She smiled, “Pick some more out.”

Bob sighed with relief and nodded. 

Somehow, in thirty minutes, Bob ended up finding more things for her to try on than vice versa. Her face lit up at that fact, and she was practically skipping to the dressing rooms. They swapped hangers, and she went first. Now this was something Bob was a little more used to. He’d sit on the designated boyfriend couch or chair that most dressing rooms had, and wait for her to come out to show him the options.

But now it felt a little different. Now he was actively involved instead of a passive spectator. There felt like stakes- like if he didn’t pick out anything good, he’d be walking out a little embarrassed.

“BOB!” She squealed from inside the dressing room, and he perked up nervously. Oh god. Did he get the wrong size? Did she hate it? “You’re good at this!” She giggled.

He sighed in relief again. 

She came out a few seconds after in a simple white V-neck sweater with a navy blue stripe across it. A fitted denim skirt showed underneath, and Bob felt like he was going to die. It showed off her legs, and she looked simply beautiful in the outfit. The grin on his face couldn’t be replicated.

She posed and gave a little spin, and his whole face went completely red. And this was just outfit one. “I like it! This is definitely a keeper.” 

“I-I really like it. You look comfy.” 

“The material is so nice.” She said, feeling the soft fabric of the sweater.

He nodded. He couldn’t lie that the feel of the fabric was really a driving factor. It was already a reason why he picked out the shirt she was wearing that day. He liked being able to hold her and feel something soft rather than something hard and tight.

She went back into the dressing room, and Bob was unsure if he was gonna survive this. 

There were a few more outfits. A sleeveless polo top with some nice jeans. A few retro-looking oversized shirts, he knew she’d probably pair with some bike shorts. And then a few nicer blouses that were more of a gamble for him to decide. 

“I’d say yes to all of these if we had the money.” She chuckled in a blouse and the shorts she came in wearing. “I think I’m gonna go with that sweater, the jeans, and a few of the shirts. But I’ve still got that dress to try on.” 

He nodded. Hell, he’d buy the rest of the clothes for her. His love language was much more acts of service and physical touch. But this whole trip was making him understand why she’d come home with a new shirt or cap for him after a day out. 

She walked back in and, after a few moments, peeked her head out the door. 

“Oh. I’m getting this.” She said with an excited smirk before walking out.

Bob’s eyes popped out of his skull as she came out in the little white dress that he had picked out. It fit her perfectly and wrapped snugly around her waist before flaring out. The deep cut of the halter was well… pleasing to Bob for a multitude of reasons. 

“I’m gonna wear this tonight.” She declared, giving him a spin.

“Jesus C-hrist-” He stammered, his heart hammering and all the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She said, laughing. “I love it. Jeez, I’m taking you with me shopping more often. You find good stuff.”

He nodded eagerly. “Please.” His voice was small.

That night at The Hard Deck, the couple walked in dressed in their new clothes. Y/n strutted in her new dress and a pair of sandals. She had decorated herself with jewelry and put her hair up. Bob held her hand in a maroon Henley with a white tee underneath. A pair of dark wash jeans down his legs and the same navy blue hat from earlier. They slightly matched, but it wasn’t in a cheesy way. His layered shirts matched the print on her dress.

As they walked up to the usual pool table, Hangman whistled at their arrival.

“Look at you two! All dolled up for little old us.” He teased

Phoenix looked up as she was leaning on the pool table, aiming. Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy all turned and smiled.

“We went to the mall today!” Y/n reported excitedly.

Bob nodded in confirmation.

“God bless you, Y/n. Bob actually looks presentable now.” Phoenix said before shooting her ball and sending a solid into a pocket.

Rooster snorted, “Yeah, he’s not wearing anything to do with the Navy or video games. He didn’t know a damn thing about dressing himself.” 

The group laughed, and Bob smiled, shrugging.

“Well, actually, Bob picked out this dress for me, too,” She explained.

“No shot.” Payback laughed.

“It’s true!” She said, “I found out today he’s way too good at picking out clothes for me. Almost bought a whole new wardrobe.”

Phoenix eyed the dress, “Good job, Bob.”

Bob smiled shyly. “She’s always picking out my clothes, so she asked me to do the same for her. It’s-it’s fun.”

Hangman lined his shot up, clearly his turn. “Take the man to Victoria’s Secret next.” Rooster smacked him upright the head. “WHAT? I’m just saying. Every guy loves that.”

Y/n gasped with a smile, “Wait! That’s genius.”

Bob choked and coughed in shock, making the group laugh again. 

“You’re welcome,” Hangman smirked, shooting the ball.

She looked over at Bob with a mischievous smile. Leaning in, she whispered, “You’re off tomorrow, right?”

He nodded, and she simply flashed him a knowing look and then went over to properly greet Fanboy and Payback. Bob stood frozen and blinking, admiring how gorgeous she looked. Especially as she laughed, her glossed lips curving up. Her golden necklace flashed under the warm lights of the bar, and it rested right on the skin revealed in her halter. It made his breath hitch. 

A new sense of excitement built up in him. Considering she loved to dress herself, he knew it wouldn’t be an everyday thing. But he looked forward to the next time she’d ask him what to wear- now that he knew what it felt like to see her proudly show off his handiwork. That had to be another reason why she loved to dress him. He had her name written all over him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Melt for Me

Sentry (Bob Reynolds) x Reader

Warnings: Extremely explicit mdni! Wax play, dom!Sentry, temperature play, light bondage, oral (f receiving), PIV, dirty talk.

Summary: Bob is sweet. Gentle. Careful. But when Sentry comes out to play, you burn for him. With silk restraints. Melted wax. Rough hands. A filthy mouth. You're not just claimed...He ruins you.

This kind of got away from me...I hope you enjoy it! I'm still not the most confident in writing smut but I do think I'm getting better lol Requests are open! Please don't hesitate to send me ideas <3

Your wrists were bound to the headboard with silk ties--soft but secure--and your body stretched beneath him, naked, already aching, already dripping.

Bob had been slow and deliberate all evening. From the moment he switched--the warm, bashful boyfriend replaced by something deeper, more commanding--your body responded like it knew who he was. It always did. It just knew when Sentry appeared.

“Breathe for me,” he said lowly, holding a black candle above your chest. “You look so fucking gorgeous like this. All soft and open. All. Mine.”

The first drop of wax hit just above your breast, and you gasped, the sensation bright and hot--sharp, but fleeting. Your hips lifted instinctively, thighs squeezing together, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the way he had you stretched out. At his mercy.

"That’s it," he murmured, watching the wax cool against your skin, fingers tracing the hardened shape. “You're such a good girl. Taking the heat like that.”

A second drop landed lower, right over the swell of your belly. You whimpered, squirming, and his free hand gripped your hip tight.

“Stay still,” he ordered gently, then smiled. “Or I’ll have to tie your legs too.”

The candle tilted again--slow, sensual drops painting a path from the curve of your breast down your stomach, tracing the valley between your thighs but never quite touching. Your skin is flushed, your nipples stiff, and your cunt throbbing. You are slick, desperate, and so fucking needy.

“Please,” you moaned, breath ragged. “Bob--”

That earned you a low growl. He leaned down, eyes glowing faintly gold as he murmured into your ear, “Who’s in control right now, sweetheart?” before biting your earlobe, hard enough to sting. You gasped, loud and broken, before whispering, “S-Sentry,” voice shaking. “That’s right, stardust,” he said darkly. “And I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

He moved the candle aside, the room still thick with the scent of heat and smoke. Then he spread your thighs and knelt between them, licking a slow, filthy stripe through your folds. You cried out; hips jerking, thighs trembling. But he held you down with one strong arm across your belly, the other gripping your thigh tight.

“You taste like sin,” he groaned into your pussy. “Sweet, messy thing. Gonna come on my tongue, aren’t you?”

His mouth was ravenous--tongue thrusting deep, then flicking up to your clit, sucking with obscene precision. You were already overstimulated from the wax, nerves lit up and begging for release.

When two thick fingers slid inside you, curling just right, your body just snapped.

You came hard crying out his name, thighs clamping around his head, wrists pulling at the ties. But he didn’t stop. He rode it out, devoured you through the tremors, and licked every drop like he was starving for it.

Only when your body collapsed back against the bed, boneless and twitching, did he pull back.

“Look at you,” he whispered, crawling up over your body, kissing the spots the wax had touched. “Marked. Wrecked. Perfectly destroyed. All mine.”

He untied your wrists carefully, massaging them as he pulled you into his arms. One of his old t-shirts went over your head, soft cotton, smelling like him and he kissed your temple while you caught your breath.

“You were perfect,” he murmured, voice slipping back to the calm warmth of Bob. “You’re okay, princess?” You nodded, dazed, nuzzling into his chest. “Better than okay.”

“Good,” he said softly, brushing his lips against your forehead. “Because next time… I’m using the red candle.” The way he said it--like a promise--made your pussy throb all over again. “Next time better happen soon,” you mumbled into his chest before drifting off.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

It didn’t take long for “next time” to come.

Your wrists were bound again, stretched high above your head, and this time it wasn’t just black wax, but, as Bob promised, was red, thick and molten, dripping from the candle as he stood at the foot of the bed.

Bob wasn’t here anymore. He was gone tucked deep beneath the glowing gold of Sentry, who now stood broad and godlike in the candlelight, hunger written into every line of his face. “You look beautiful like this,” he said, voice low, almost reverent. “Every inch of you begging to be touched. Dripping. Shaking. So ready for me.”

You whimpered, thighs already slick and clenched together. “Please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, dragging one finger down the valley between your breasts. “You want the wax? Or my fingers buried in your messy little cunt?”

A blush crept up your chest, but you answered anyway. “Both.”

That made him smirk--slow and dangerous.

“You’ll take what I give you. But I guess since you asked so nicely…” He tilted the candle, and the first drop of wax landed just above your nipple. You gasped, the heat sharp and immediate, your back arching off the bed.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let me see how well you take it my starlight.” He poured again, slower this time each drip deliberate. Over your tits, your soft belly, the plush curve of your thighs. You moaned as the pain blurred into pleasure an aching heat that made your core clench, thighs twitching.

“Such a needy little thing,” he groaned, watching a droplet land on your inner thigh. “Already wet from a few drops of wax? You’re so fucking filthy.”

You didn’t care. You couldn't find it in you to care. Not when he knelt between your legs, spreading you open like a gift. Not when he stared down at your soaked cunt like it was the only thing that mattered.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice rough. “So fucking wet. I haven’t even touched you yet.”

And then he did.

Two thick fingers slid in, curling deep, while his tongue flicked your clit; slow, teasing, then hard and relentless. He fucked you with his fingers, knuckles dragging against that spot inside you with every thrust.

“That’s right,” he growled. “Give it to me. Let me hear what a mess you are.”

You came with a scream, thighs locking around his head, cunt pulsing around his fingers as you soaked his hand.

But he didn’t stop. He refused to.

He spat on your clit, rubbed it in with his thumb, and slammed his fingers back in. “This pussy was made for me.”

Your second orgasm tore through you like fire. You were sobbing by the end of it, too far gone to speak, barely breathing.

And still, he wasn’t done. He stood and finally undid his belt, tugging his cock free already hard, already leaking. “You begged for it. You let me ruin you. Now you’re going to take every inch.”

He lined up and thrust in deep with one brutal stroke.

You screamed--head thrown back, wrists straining as your cunt stretched to accommodate the thick length of him. He set a rhythm fast and rough, hips slamming into yours as your body bounced with every thrust.

“Such a good fucking hole,” he growled. “Look at you. Taking it...Clenching around me like you need to be filled. Only I can fill you like you need to be filled” his hand came down on your ass before you could react, "My good fucking girl...fuck!" He roared throwing his head back.

His hand cracked down on your ass and your whole body jolted. Again. Again. The sting bloomed into heat.

You were crying, begging for more, for anything. And he gave it to you, spitting on your pussy again, fingers bruising into your hips, his cock hitting deeper than anyone ever had.

“Mine,” he snarled into your ear. “All mine.”

When he finally came, it was with a broken, guttural moan--buried to the hilt, filling you with thick warmth, your body twitching from overstimulation.

You were nothing but trembling limbs and raw nerves when he untied you and pulled you to his chest. “You did so fucking good for me,” he whispered against your hair. “My perfect girl.” he kissed your skin with gentleness and softness as if it was a feather grazing your skin instead.

“Yours,” you murmured, barely conscious. He hums and draws random shapes along the marks he left on you, "sleep sweet one, once your rested a bath will be drawn" he kissed you one more time and he held you like he’d never let go.

If you like my work please let me know! Reblogging, commenting and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Request are open <3

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[inks-writing-space]

Klaus being obsessed with her wearing his clothes. And she knows it.

So she does it. Often. At the most inconvenient times - like when he is in the library and they are discussing supernatural politics and you walk in with his shirt on to grab a book. And walk right out. And he just follows like a lovesick puppy.

Alliances- Klaus Mikaelson x f!Reader

My Masterlist

700 words: You wear Klaus clothes the entire time and he is not having it... Warnings: none just fluff

A/N: I love this request thank you so much. It's fun to write fluff <3

~~~~~~~

"Kol, you are drving me to madness," Klaus growls, "You have no idea of the extend of rage I feel for every single one of the witches. I will kill them all."

"You'll keep your hands off my girl," Kol gives back.

Elijah massages his neck, "Let us proceed with caution. The last thing we require is yet another conflict ignited by impulsive decisions."

Kol crosses his arms, "Hands off the witches or I am out."

Klaus looked at Kol before turning to Elijah, "Then we'll go with my last plan."

“You’re suggesting an alliance with the werwolves?” Elijah's voice is clipped, annoyed. “They’ve broken every-”

“Mm,” Klaus hums suddenly absent, gaze frozen somewhere behind Elijah and not at the map at all but on you. You had walked in like it’s nothing, barefoot, wearing his grey Henley. The one that is long enough to cover your thighs and he knew you were not wearing anything underneath. You never did when you were at home. He was the only one who was aware and that made him even crazier for you. You had once told Klaus that you loved wearing his clothes because they smelled like him, and felt like home.

A side effect was that Klaus is gone the second he sees you, because he loves the way you look in his clothes. He watches you walk to the book shelf behind you, stretched up on your toes, fingers grazing the spine of an old version of Sense and Sensibility. And you know he’s watching. You shift your weight just a little so the hem of the shirt rides up higher on your legs.

He’s already standing, by the time you grab the book. As you turn you catch his eye and walk out with a quiet, innocent little smirk. Your look gives you away: You knew exactly what you had done.

“…Klaus,” Elijah sighs. “Don’t.”

But Klaus is already moving.

“She’s wearing my shirt,” he mutters, halfway to the door. “Again.”

“Brother,” Kol calls after him dryly. “If you follow her every time she wears your clothes we might actually lose this negotiations because we never finish planing.”

But Klaus doesn’t care. He’s already following you through the corridor like a man possessed.

When he finds you in your room, sprawled on the bed reading, legs bare and attention clearly not on supernatural diplomacy, he leans against the doorframe and stares for a moment. “Do you enjoy unraveling me so throughly?," he whispered and watched as you glanced up innocently. “Of course.” You flip the page. “Is it working?”

He stays in the doorway for another second, gaze trailing over your legs like they’re sacred, then pads across the room with slow, careful steps like he is approaching a wild thing.

“I had a very important diplomatic discussion,” he says, voice low as he comes to the edge of the bed moving over you while kissing your cheek.

You flip the page again. “And I’m sure Elijah was devastated to lose your full attention.”

Klaus laughs under his breath. The sound is a little husky and a shiver runs over your back as he kisses your collarbone . He leans down and brushes his fingers along the hem of his shirt where it rests on your thigh. “You’re not wearing anything underneath.”

“Your point?”

“My point,” he growls, “is that you walked into that room like a weapon, and now you’re lying here reading Jane Austen while I’m trying to remember how to breathe.”

You finally glance up, biting back a smile. “Then maybe you should lie down too.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Klaus drops beside you without hesitation, and you tuck yourself into his side, abandoning the book completely.

He leans in, lips brushing your temple, then your cheek, then down to your jaw. You can feel him breathing you in.

“Klaus,” you murmur, voice a little breathless now. “You’re supposed to be negotiating.”

“I am,” he whispers, sliding the book from your lap. “Negotiating for more time with you.”

He lays beside you, pulling you close, like he’s never letting you go.

And just like that the war waits.

[donjuaninhell]

Good piece.

Two years ago, I wrote that all the nerds were dead. The nerd era in culture was a response to the problem of data saturation: we were producing too much recorded culture for anyone to be able to sort through it all. In the fifteenth century, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola claimed to have read every single published text in general circulation, which back then amounted to maybe a gigabyte of data. We currently produce that much information every thirty milliseconds. The first cultural response to this problem was the hipster, which was the consumer as information-sorting algorithm. ‘The hipster listened to bands you’d never heard of. The hipster drank beers brewed by Paraguayan Jesuits in the 1750s. The hipster thought Tarkovsky was for posers, and the only truly great late-Soviet filmmaker was Ali Khamraev.’ The hipster was also deeply annoying. Once we developed efficient digital sorting algorithms, the hipster became obsolete, and the cultural hegemony of the nerd began. In the nerd era, abstract equations served you up a constant stream of targeted slurry, and your job was to be unreasonably enthusiastic about it. Nerds are people who like things simply because they exist, and the nerd era was the era of the massive repetitive franchises: Marvel, Taylor Swift. For anyone to maintain individual taste and not enjoy this dreck was, for the nerds, a kind of affront. The nerd era felt like it would go on forever, but it’s now very definitively over. What’s strange is that, as I wrote at the start of the year, seemingly nothing in mass culture has arrived to replace it. Instead, we’re reduced to dredging up the last remnants of the hipster era to squeeze out any remaining nostalgia-value, in what I’ve called the necrosequel. ‘Gladiator II came out twenty-four years after Gladiator. Twisters came out twenty-eight years after Twister. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice arrived thirty-six years after the first instalment.’ This month, Pulp released their first album in a quarter of a century. Why? Not clear. It’s not like they have a radical new sound they need to share with the world. They’re doing what they always did, just not as well. The album is called More. And now, we have 28 Years Later.

[...]

The third stage of culture in the zettabyte age, after the hipster and the nerd, is the zombie. If the hipster represents cultural taste as sorting algorithm, and the nerd represents cultural taste determined by sorting algorithm, the zombie is the point at which we stop consuming culture-commodities altogether and start directly consuming the sorting algorithm itself. According to some middle-aged critics, our current age is the age of short-form, attention-grabbing, dopamine-boosting content. TikToks, essentially. But the individual TikTok is actually a fairly conservative and old-fashioned object: a short film, scripted and choreographed ahead of time, and then exhaustively edited afterwards. It might last seconds rather than hours, but the TikToker is still doing essentially the same kind of thing as, say, Fritz Lang. But most people don’t actually watch TikToks. Next time you’re next to someone doomscrolling through short-form video, watch what they actually do. Most of the time, they never actually watch a single twenty-second video through to the end. Flick down, vaguely register the general content of the video, immediately flick down again. Flick, flick, flick, for hours at a time, consuming literally nothing. Or, rather, consuming nothing except the algorithm, the pure flow and speed of the machine that gathers the entire world together and beams it directly at your face. It’s not a question of attention spans: in the zombie era, people will engage with media in whatever way allows them direct access to that pure flow. If the medium is short-form video, they’ll scroll through it rapidly. But TikTok also features a streaming service called TikTok live, which mostly consists of women very slowly applying their makeup, or pretending to eat emoji of hamburgers, or pretending to be video game NPCs, or just wandering around, pointing out entirely ordinary objects like paving stones and bushes and other people’s cars in a slow xanned up purr—and people will watch these streams for hours on end. The real epicentre of contemporary youth culture isn’t TikTok, which is an app for cringe balding zoomers, but Twitch. This is where all the slang comes from, and it’ll be the breeding-ground for all the minor celebrities of the next few decades. Streaming has largely replaced music as the engine for new subcultures. In the same way that Instagram and YouTube (and, most recently, Substack) have been pathetically bolting TikTok clones to their services, TikTok is now desperately trying not to sink in the age of Twitch. The reason Hollywood is still stuck in the post-franchise holding pattern is that all forms of linear narrative entertainment are essentially obsolete. (A friend of mine has never sat through a single episode of the Sopranos, but he’s watched pretty much the entire show through nonlinear YouTube clips; he knows how every major character dies, just not in what order.) Those of us who are still stuck in these ancient media perceive a world in cultural stasis. But the zombies know better.

[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

[bi-focal12]

meant for this to be a warm up piece and then it...grew, lol. this art has me in its clutches, it's so cute

Title: Latte for Deku | ~4k words

Katsuki is on his second complimentary tea of the day when the door to Aizawa’s hole-in-the-wall cafe finally opens, bringing with it a waft of cool air and the gentle ring of the cat bell his boss had taped over the door. The guy walking in ducks his shoulders as the bell lands on his head, then drops with a jangle to the wooden floor below. 

“Um,” the guy says, one hand hesitantly carding through his curly green hair. “Your bell…?”

“Welcome in,” Katsuki says, ignoring the dropped bell and rising from his slumped over position on the counter, sliding his open textbook underneath it. “What do you want?”

The guy blinks, startled, attention quickly darting over the chalkboard menu above Katsuki’s head. “Um. A latte, please, with- oh wow, you guys have a lot of syrups- uh, let’s go with the chocolate chip cookie syrup?”

Katsuki looks up from the paper cup he’d been scribbling the guy’s order on, one eyebrow raised. “You asking or telling?”

His freckled face- already colored pink from the cold- darkens over the apple of his cheeks. “Telling,” he says sheepishly. 

“Name?”

Katsuki quickly scribbles down his answer- a condition of his continued employment here, because he will certainly forget this man’s name by the time he’s finished making the drink and it’s apparently “bad conduct” and “rude” to call out people’s orders by their most defining physical characteristic. Not that Katsuki thinks Aizawa really cares about that. He’s probably just sick of dealing with the complaints. 

Katsuki sets about making the drink quickly, seeing as there are no other customers jockeying for their fill of over-caffeinated, sugar filled nonsense, and spares a few glances towards Mr. Latte as he works. 

He’s wearing a bright red backpack- the same shade as his ridiculous shoes- but he looks a little too old to be a college kid. So, maybe a late starter or a grad student. He sits on the very edge of one of the cafe’s little tables like he’s afraid to take up any more room than that, his backpack bumping into the metal rungs of the chair. He does, at least, take off his yellow scarf and the action draws Katsuki’s attention to the scars littering his hands and crawling underneath the arms of his coat. 

How did he get all those sca-?

Katsuki hisses quietly, nearly burning himself for his distraction, and resolves to ignore Mr. Latte completely. It’s none of Katsuki’s business how he got all those scars. And it’s probably for something lame. Greenie doesn’t really seem the type to swim with sharks or go wrestling a bear up in the mountains. Katsuki sneers at the chocolate chip cookie syrup as he pumps it into the guy’s drink in liberal amounts, thinking about congested arteries and cavities and sugar crashes. Bear wrestlers can’t drink shit like this. 

Then he squints at his own handwriting. 

“Latte for Deku.”

Deku rises quickly from his chair. “Ah, yes! Well, it’s Izuku actually,” he says, tacking on an awkward laugh. 

“Right,” Katsuki says, handing it over. “Enjoy or whatever.”

Deku’s mouth presses flat with amusement like he’s trying to hold back a smile. Katsuki has no idea what’s so funny. Mr. Latte’s gaze drops to his nametag. 

“Thanks, Kat- Kacchan,” he says, sweeping out of the doorway before Katsuki can truly register what he’s been called. 

“The fuck?” he says to the empty room. 

From the back, Aizawa says, “I didn’t hear a jingle.”

Scowling, Katsuki re-tapes the cat bell above the doorway and his eyes only linger on the back of Deku’s retreating form for a second. 

**** 

Deku comes back the next Tuesday, with the same order. 

Katsuki sighs when he hears it, then says, “One sugared monstrosity for Deku, coming up.”

“What?” Deku says. “I told you my name’s not- wait, are you allowed to just say things like that?” 

Katsuki’s attention darts up from where he’d been scribbling a freckled frowny face vomiting up a sugar rainbow on Deku’s cup- a guy gets bored, sue him- to say, “If you try to get me fired over this, it won’t work.”

Deku’s eyes widen, but it’s the truth. Katsuki makes good coffee, even if he’s sometimes rude to the few customers they get, and Aizawa hates going through the recruitment process. That’s why Katsuki has remained employed here for the past year in spite of his attitude. 

“I don’t wanna get you fired?” Deku says, a concerned tilt to his brows. He leans his hands onto the countertop, tapping nervously. “Do people usually try to?” 

There’s one other customer here today- a tall woman who Katsuki had already served, quietly chatting away on a video call- but for some reason Deku seems to be more comfortable asserting himself in the space now. He lingers at the counter, waiting for a response, while Katsuki turns to start pulling out what he needs for the drink.

Katsuki shrugs. Decides that he’ll answer. “People don’t take kindly to being called Egghead.”

“You didn’t,” Deku gasps, caught somewhere between shocked and terribly, terribly curious. 

Deku’s a weirdo, Katsuki decides. And one with a sugar addiction to boot, but he’s not so bad. Certainly not compared to some of his other customers. 

When Katsuki turns to face him, Deku’s eyes are shining and attentive. Green. His scarf is All Might themed. 

“Yeah, well,” Katsuki says. “When you call out some guy’s drink order twice when there’s like, three people in the whole cafe, and he’s too busy staring at his phone to pay attention, you gotta get creative.”

Katsuki moves further down the counter, reaching for the syrups, and Deku follows him. “Wow,” he says. “Why not just let his drink sit on the counter until he noticed? That seems kind of fair- for not paying attention after ordering, I mean.”

Katsuki scoffs. “My boss does that sometimes, but then assholes usually demand a remake, saying their shit’s gone cold- like no shit, dude, you waited ten whole minutes to take your ears out of your ass.”

Deku sputters out a laugh, ears red. “So you’re the reason they started asking for names here.”

“The one and only.” Katsuki hands over the cup with a smirk, making sure his art is facing out. “Latte for Deku,” he says. 

Deku’s mouth starts to rise in a smile- charmed, it seems, by Katsuki’s crudeness. “So I guess you don’t take sugar in your coffee, then.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, pulling the rag from his belt to wipe what little mess he’d made. “Obviously. If I drank any, it would be black. None of that baby crap.”

Deku pauses with the cup raised halfway to his mouth, eyebrows lifted. “If you drank any,” he says. “So how do you know that’s how you’d take it? Black coffee’s pretty strong, you know.”

Katsuki whips the rag over his shoulder, leaning over the countertop to peer down at Deku. He has to raise slightly onto his toes to get the extra inch, but that’s between him and the coffeeshop gods. “You think I’m all talk?” he challenges. 

Deku’s eyes sparkle over the rim of his latte. “I mean…” he says, trailing off pointedly. 

Katsuki jabs a finger towards his nose. “Fuck you. Stay right there.”

Deku offers him a cheeky salute and watches on as Katsuki brews a cup of black coffee- no sugar, no creamers, no syrups. It’s a routine his hands have become familiar with. Aizawa drinks the stuff like water and Katsuki’s half convinced the old man only started this business to have constant access. Up close, it smells a little nauseating, but Katsuki’s not a fucking wimp. He can walk the walk. 

“It’s okay to have second thoughts,” Deku calls out. “I know I wouldn’t wanna drink that.”

“And that’s why you’re a baby and I’m not.” Katsuki stomps back over, mug in hand, and takes a pointed swig.

Then he reflexively spits it back out all over the floor. 

“What the fuck?” he hisses, wiping his mouth with the back of his fist. “That tastes like ass! Who drinks this shit?!”

Izuku is doubled over on the other side of the counter, clutching his stomach. “Oh my- oh my god,” he laughs. “I told you!”

“You didn’t tell me it was fucking tar,” Katsuki shoots back, disgusted and certain that the burning he feels on his face is visible. “All right, asshole, laugh it up.”

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Deku says. “You just looked so confident.”

“Fuck you,” he spits, eyeing the mess on the floor he now has to clean with a grimace. “You win this time, and this time only, Freckles.”

Deku hums, mouth still curved up into a smile. “I think I’m okay with that.”

The bell over the door jingles, then falls, and Aizawa sweeps into the cafe looking like he got exactly two seconds of sleep. He eyes Katsuki’s red face, the paper cup held in Deku’s hand, and the half-full mug belonging to the woman at the back table before taking Katsuki’s abandoned black coffee for himself. 

“Hang the bell back up, Bakugou.”

****

It becomes a regular thing- Katsuki seeing Deku on Tuesday afternoons. It’s a quiet spot in the cafe’s hours that Katsuki used to spend fucking around on his phone or studying up in preparation for his master’s program in the fall. Now, Deku usually hangs around to talk, becoming more and more at ease each time he does, and an at ease Deku is a lot different from the tall, nervous, stuttering man Katsuki had first met in November. 

“I just don’t know why they had to introduce time travel,” Deku says, a chair pulled beside the counter where he won’t be in anyone’s way but can still talk to Katsuki without needing to raise his voice. A blueberry muffin is cradled within his hands, a napkin spread over his lap to catch the crumbs. “It lessens the impact of some of the earlier episodes because that means All Might’s mentor didn’t actually choose her successor based on whether she thought he deserved it but because someone she didn’t know from the future told her she had to? And why would she listen to a stranger for such an important choice? That’s not like her at all.”

“That’s what I’m fucking saying,” Katsuki agrees, calling out an order and setting it on the counter before starting on the next. “They changed writers and it all went to shit. No underdog story, no hard work wins out, it’s all just handed to him on a silver platter and then the only reason the new big bad is such a threat is because someone else has supposedly been taking care of them from the shadows this whole time? Bullshit. All Might doesn’t need to be babied.”

“Um,” a suit-clad man interrupts, waving to catch Katsuki’s attention. “My cold brew?”

“Yeah, I’m working on it, asshole,” Katsuki spits back. 

Deku muffles a laugh beneath his hand, looking for all intents and purposes like he feels guilty for laughing. Katsuki doesn’t know why he does. Suit ordered literally two seconds ago and watched Katsuki move right from the order before his into the stupid cold brew. So what if he’s multitasking? Katsuki’s fucking good at it. 

He draws a quick rendition of a middle finger on the guy’s cup before handing it over. When the door slams shut behind the man, Katsuki says, “Jesus that guy was a prick.”

“Well, maybe he was in a rush,” Deku offers. “Stressful day at work.”

“Yeah, and maybe he stomps on kittens in his spare time,” Katsuki replies. 

“Kacchan,” Deku gently admonishes. 

“Oh fuck off,” Katsuki says, drawing All Might’s face on the side of Deku’s drink with a speech bubble that reads, No, he’s a prick. Go beyond plus ultra and roundhouse that motherfucker

“You must like this shit a lot to come here every week,” Katsuki comments idly as he hands it over, Deku’s fingertips warm over Katsuki’s.  

“Oh, y-yeah, Kacchan makes really good latte’s.”

Katsuki clocks the lie in Deku’s voice immediately, abandoning his rag on the counter to whirl on him. 

“You’re saying my latte’s are shit?”

Deku’s eyes widen. “What? That’s literally the opposite of what I just said!”

“Then what the fuck are you lying about?” Katsuki presses, leaning further over the counter. Deku looks frozen to his little chair, mouth hanging halfway open. 

“I- I don’t- I wasn’t-”

“All I said was you must like them since you’re always fuckin’ here. Why else would you…?”

And Katsuki reaches a conclusion, all but confirmed by the way Deku looks like a startled forest deer caught in the headlights of a monster truck.

“Oh,” he says, lips curling up into a smirk, a small laugh escaping his lips. “God, you have shit taste in men.”

Deku's pale face lights up like a strawberry. “I do not!” he says. “You’re very sweet!”

Katsuki scoffs, even as something pleased begins to bubble in his chest. “I’m a grade A asshole who doesn’t even call you by your real name.”

“I don’t call you by yours, either,” Deku points out. 

Katsuki offers Deku a flat look. 

“Okay, so they're not exactly equal,” Deku concedes, “but my point still stands!”

“Uh huh,” Katsuki says, unconvinced. Content to rest his chin on his palm and watch Deku flounder on the other side of the counter, defending his interest in Katsuki. It’s sweet, in a way, and Katsuki’s mildly surprised to find he’s not put off by Deku’s attention in the slightest. 

“You always make my coffee very nicely,” Deku tries. 

“Literally my job.”

“With the drawings, too?” Deku challenges and Katsuki rolls his eyes, reluctant to acknowledge Deku's point. 

“Entertainment. Not exactly a swoon worthy trait.”

“But you even sing to your dog! That’s sweet!”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow, giving Deku a searing once over. “Now how the hell do you know that?”

Deku’s expression freezes and he holds out his hands. “Okay I know that sounds bad,” he says, “but I think we live near each other? Or, well I’ve seen you at the dog park near where I live. I don’t know where you live. I promise. I’m not a stalker, and-”

“Bullshit,” Katsuki says, waving away Deku’s worry. “I woulda seen you.”

Deku shakes his head. “I only go running past it sometimes. I don’t go in.” Deku wrings his hands in his lap, blueberry muffin forgotten on the countertop, more like the man from November who got tongue tied in front of Katsuki instead of the one who rambles his ear off. “I don’t have a dog, so…” He shrugs. "I didn't have a reason to go in."

Katsuki stares at Deku until he begins to sweat. 

“I have a dog,” Katsuki says. 

“...I know?” Deku says. And he looks…not-ugly. Katsuki doesn’t know if he’s ever received a confession and thought that the person giving it was not-ugly. Usually he doesn’t think anything about them at all, preferring to reject them swiftly and move on with his life, and this is not technically a confession, but it’s something close and Katsuki feels different about it. 

“She’s very cute,” Deku offers up in the silence, tapping his nails on his knees.

Katsuki doesn’t know what it is about Deku but he says, “If you see us again, come in. Now scram, I gotta close up shop.”

And for a moment, Katsuki thinks Deku’s smile could outshine the sun. 

****

For the next week, Katsuki keeps an eye out for Deku in his neighborhood even though he tries to tell himself that’s not what he’s doing. Deku has worked his way into Katsuki’s system like an earworm and it continues to baffle Katsuki that he’s not upset about it. That he wants to see Deku more, now that the opportunity’s been presented to him. 

So it’s just his luck that Deku is a goddamn ghost. 

Katsuki has had his eyes peeled, taken Missy for more walks than normal, and even posted up at the dog park with a warm tea and a bagel to see if staying there longer would raise his chances of spotting the nerd and all he’d gotten in return was a very tired dog who slept like a log at the foot of his bed that night and refused to go for her morning walk the next day, worming her large body underneath the covers like her whole ass wasn’t still poking out and giving away her hiding spot.

By Friday, he’d all but decided that Deku had gotten nervous- cold feet or something- and was purposefully not running by the dog park. The thought leaves Katsuki unbearably sour and he turns in early for the night, ignoring Kirishima’s pestering about his sudden change in habits, and makes the crucial error of foregoing Missy’s nightly walk.

He wakes up the next morning to faceful of slobber, Missy’s whining more effective than Katsuki’s alarm clock- which isn’t set to go off for another two hours- because she has no snooze button and the consequence for trying to find one is a puddle of pee left somewhere in his apartment. 

Reluctantly, Katsuki rises, and just as he’s traipsing into the kitchen, looking for an energy bar, he glances out the window and sees Deku jogging on the street below. 

That early rising motherfucker. 

Missy whines at Katsuki’s knees until he leans down to attach her leash, energy bar held between his teeth and a golden opportunity laying itself at his feet. Katsuki decides then and there that he’s gonna beat Deku at his own, stupid, early rising game. 

The plan is simple. Katsuki sets his alarm for five the next morning, scoffing at the way Missy merely raises her head when he gets up and then settles back into sleep. He sets a pot of water boiling on the stove for his own tea and then starts snatching things out of Kirishima’s coffee cabinet, mentally planning to make the loser whatever dinner he wants as thanks. Kirishima doesn’t have the same syrups or machines as the cafe, but Katsuki hedges his bets and decides to go for a caramel macchiato- something obnoxiously sugary to satisfy Deku’s ridiculous sweet tooth, piled high with whipped cream and a caramel drizzle. Then he takes both mugs out onto the stoop of his apartment building and waits. 

And Deku delivers. 

It’s obvious that he doesn’t spot Katsuki at first, and when he does, he nearly trips over his own feet, ripping out an earbud. 

Katsuki can’t help but snort. 

“Kacchan?”

“Sup,” Katsuki says, lifting Deku’s mug from the cement stair he’s sitting on and holding it out in offering. Deku takes it with a soft smile, pulling out his second earbud and letting them dangle over his shirt. Katsuki can make out the faint sound of drums. “I figured you out,” Katsuki says. “Laid a trap even your nervous ass couldn’t resist.”

Deku hums around a mouthful of coffee, but his eyes are glued to Katsuki and Katsuki only when he says, “Yeah, I guess you did.”

Katsuki’s eyelids are heavy but he refuses to close them, leaning his head against the low wall instead and peering back at Deku. 

“Thought I told you to come find me.”

Deku twiddles his fingers around the mug Katsuki had chosen for him- a limited edition Edgeshot design. He’s certain Deku’s noticed, given the careful way he’s holding it. 

“I wanted to,” Deku says, and it sounds like the truth. In fact, he doesn’t seem half as nervous as Katsuki expected. “But I can only go running in the evening when my night class gets cancelled. I haven’t seen you at the dog park any other time.”

Katsuki bites the inside of his cheek. So he might have jumped to some conclusions. So what? 

“Nerd,” he accuses. 

Deku smiles. “Kacchan, your program starts soon, too.”

“Semantics.” Katsuki waves his hand dissmissively. “So you’re always up at bum fuck in the morning?”

Deku laughs. “That’s not how I would phrase it but yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s so gross.”

“I think it’s nice,” Deku says, worming very close to Katsuki on the stoop under the guise of moving out of the way for the elderly couple coming down the stairs. Katsuki pretends he doesn’t notice. “I get to see the sunrise, hear the birds waking up.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and Deku says, “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that Kacchan is too cool for the birds. He only drinks black coffee and hates sunrises and Christmas and-”

“Alright,” Katsuki says, pushing his shoulder insistently into Deku’s. “I get it. I’m a grouch. You knew that already.” 

Deku pushes his shoulder back into Katsuki’s. “Yeah, but I kinda like that. Plus you sing to your dog and that’s, like, the cutest thing in the world, so…”

Katsuki meets Deku’s warm gaze and holds it. 

“So…?” he presses, fishing, just a little, but he’s already put in the work of laying the trap so it’s time to see if Deku truly wants to take the bait. 

Deku lips his lips, determined. “Go to dinner with me,” he says. 

A slow smirk rises on Katsuki’s face. “You askin’ or tellin’?” he says, sleep soft and pleased and waiting for Deku’s face to go pink. Which it does- immediately.

“I mean- oh my god, I mean, would you like to go to dinner with me, Katsuki?”

“Kacchan,” Katsuki corrects. 

“Kacchan,” he says. It sounds good in his mouth. 

“I’ll cook for you,” Katsuki offers instead. “What do you want?”

Deku’s answering smile is wide and pleased. “Oh, wow. Um- I’m fine with whatever you like to cook, so-”

Katsuki jabs his fingers into Deku’s forehead and he goes cross-eyed trying to look up at it.

“Um-”

“I know my way around a kitchen, Freckles. Don’t underestimate me. What do you like?”

Deku reaches for Katsuki’s hand and pulls it down, keeping it trapped between two of his own, their fingers tangling warmly together.

“I like katsudon,” he says. 

Katsuki closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of Deku’s hands against his own. He wants to know where he got his scars, if they hurt, how far up his sleeves they go, if he has freckles anywhere other than his face. Katsuki wants, and it’s lighting him up from the inside. 

“Katsudon I can do,” Katsuki murmurs. Then, with his other hand, he points up. “I live here. Wednesday work?”

“Wednesday’s cool,” Deku says, a little breathlessly, squeezing Katsuki’s fingers like he’s double checking that they’re real. “I’ll be here at seven.”

“Six.”

“Six?” Deku teases. “For dinner?”

Katsuki tugs on Deku’s hands until he shifts closer again, their knees bumping together. “Some human beings actually have to sleep to survive, dumbass.”

“I see,” Deku says. “Early to bed and not early to rise.”

Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice and he traps one of Deku’s feet between his own. 

“Fuck you, it’s the superior lifestyle.”

One of Deku’s hands lands tentatively in Katsuki’s hair, pushing his bangs away from his face. “I can see that,” he murmurs. 

Slowly, Katsuki opens his tired eyes. 

Deku reddens under Katsuki’s languid attention. “Well, I- I should finish my run but I, um, I’ll be here on Wednesday. Six o’clock sharp.”

“And Tuesday?” Katsuki asks, reluctantly releasing Deku’s limbs from his grasp. 

Deku smiles warmly. 

“I’ll be there too.”

When Katsuki carries their mugs back to his third story apartment, ready to wash them and faceplant back into his bed, Kirishima suddenly rises from the bay window beside the fridge and Katsuki only barely avoids chucking a mug at his head.

“Jesus!” Katsuki shouts, “What the fuck are you doing up, Shitty Hair?”

“Uh, one, I’m always up at this hour, and two,” he says, following Katsuki to the sink, “that was the cutest shit I’ve ever seen in my life, like holy shit. I’m not even mad about you using the last of my whipped cream. Can I be the best man at your wedding?”

Katsuki turns on the faucet, rinsing out both mugs with a lightness in his chest that feels a lot like a sunrise. 

“Yeah,” he says, thinking of the way Deku’s hand felt in his hair. The way his laugh sounds when they’re the only two people in the cafe. 

“Wow,” Kirishima says with a light chuckle. “I didn’t expect you to agree so easily.” 

Katsuki turns around, a fierce grin dawning over his face. 

“I play for keeps.”

Coffee Shop AU ! Coffee Shop AU!

[kazzsbrekker]

things i liked and didn't like about tog2 under the cut (after watching the movie once, this morning)

what i liked

the opening action scene! reminiscent of the comics, great character moments and dynamics, especially joe and nicky being silly, nile being badass on the boat, copley being part of the team

joe and nicky in general; they got to be their own characters and be in disagreement but they were also sweet and flirty and worked together in sync and affirm their bond for us

nicky's very pronounced italian accent

tuah as an addition to the team! he had good chemistry with the characters and i like the idea of an archivist immortal

nile being a badass. she got her own new weapon and looked hot doing it. AND she got to do the sao paolo 1834 move

quynh my love. my queen who has suffered more than jesus. fantastic portrayal by veronica ngo (shoutout to the breathing sound in the boat scene before they open the iron maiden)

"what if she doesn't recognize me" / "what if i don't recognize her"

immortal wives. could mention every moment between them, they mean so much to me. and now they're a unit again and it felt fitting despite their changed dynamic and history

in general, a lot of introspective and emotional andy moments i enjoyed, also her conversation with booker was beautiful. and her finally admitting she can't go first hit me hard

fight choreography was solid and really fun, nile's new weapon, andy's axe of course, especially joe kicking a guy onto nicky's sword like,, get it

that scene of andy walking through rome. CHILLS. she's so old and has seen so much and that was a gorgeous representation of that, especially when it culminated in quynh waiting for her there

what i didn't like

the new lore. none of that shit made sense and it didn't even line up with the first movie. i don't mind that it departed from the comics but i feel like there was some mamma mia 2 level of gaslighting when they told us andy lost her immortality when nile stabbed her. SHE HEALED FROM THAT. she stopped healing after the church fight scene, THAT'S when she was stabbed in the shoulder (again). and considering that in the case of booker and quynh, the wound not closing was instantaneous, it just doesn't add up. then the whole thing about the last immortal. i like nile being important and special, that's my girl, but discord was an awful addition to this cast of characters (as was to be expected) and none of her lore drops were adequately explained or made sense in the movie. maybe i need to rewatch but idk how they transferral of the immortality worked

that brings me to the dreaming (basically same complaint as above but it was getting too long). i'm trying to explain all this through nile not dreaming about discord because she's mortal now and only dreaming about tuah when he got stabbed because she only notices/realizes that's it's an Immortal Dream when something traumatic happens (such as quynh drowning) but it doesn't add up with none of the others knowing about discord and tuah for centuries.

everything about discord. fuck off. quynh should have been the main and only antagonist and we don't need uma thurman with unclear motives

0 emotional resonance in the third act. none of that hit i can't even put my finger on it but it just felt unearned. even the setup with the joenicky conversation didn't sell me on the weight of it. boring setting for the climax that has no relevance to the characters. i love these characters deeply and have thought about them every day for 5 years, i should feel more when they are in danger and when they.well

BOOKER DYING. a character death can feel earned and make sense even when it's sad. but this was just bullshit. suicidal character finds a way to kill himself yay! hope he and quentin coldwater reunite in the heaven of done dirty sacrificial depressed characters

cliffhanger. you can't do a movie like that and then bank on a sequel, you just can't. not with the production delays and keeping everyone waiting for 5 years. we're not going to get a third movie, i know netflix. they should have given us a real ending with potential for more

nile was underused as hell. sure she got the last immortal title but we deserved more of the literal protagonist. how does she feel at being 6 months immortal. how does she feel about her family. how does she feel about whatever discord is talking about. how does she feel about anything

the camera work. i'm not sold on all those shaky little zooms. it doesn't fit the mood of the film imo. also the cgi in the boat scene was uhhhh questionable

conclusion

not good. still love the characters and i loved seeing them again but i wish it was under better circumstances. and i assume that i won't get more. justice for my immortal family

[pucksandpebbles]

MAKE IT MESSIER, QH⁴³

quinn hughes x ballerina!reader

CHAPTER ONE… getting reckless

a/n : i don't entirely know where this came from, probably my old love of ballet, me getting my splits again and watching DCC but this happened okay. also disclaimer that i never actually did dance competitions/was a part of competitive dancing and companies so some stuff will be wrong but i'm not expecting anyone here to be a prima ballerina okay. i hope y'all enjoy this even though its so unproofread its shameful

reminder !! show some love through reposts, comments and likes, I love seeing it and it does encourage my unmotivated ass. I love you guys so much honestly, this community and platform has revived my love for writing.

wc : 4.4k

link to series masterlist

When the lights are on you, the brightest white shining right into your eyes, it's like the whole world falls apart around you. And it does. When you get up on that stage, with already aching muscles and the rush of adrenaline disguised in anticipation, it is the only thing you can focus on. Each count of the music, each minute flex and point of your toes, each straining muscle when you move - it’s a high that is incomparable to much else in the universe. To you. 

Tonight, everything hurts. Its the third night of performance in a row and its beginning to feel difficult to keep going. You are certain that you are one mistake away from a serious strain and you have definitely not been getting enough sleep. It’s draining, this season - the Christmas one that is. 

The company has chosen to do Nutcracker and whilst you were delighted to be given the opportunity to play Clara, the lead role, there was an undeniable dread that came with it. Being the principal dancer comes with a pressure that cannot be expressed, not only as a leadership role but the stress of performing at such a high technical level and it is beginning to get to you. It is even harder, admittedly, with the lack of a support system for you in New York. Although most of your close friends are in New Jersey, including your best friend Madeline, with such full-time jobs and careers, you often feel lonely. Loneliness, physical strain and the pressure of your job builds up and it’s resulted mostly in the death of your love life.

The last time you went on a date has died a slow death in your memory. A horrific dinner date that made you delete Hinge and swear yourself off men. That might have been over two years ago now, and it did allow you to focus on your dance but it’s also resulted in incessant bullying from Madeline - who, in the time it took for you to swear off men, since got engaged. It’s kind of crazy to you, that in a couple of months, your best friend will be walking down the aisle, you will be watching her walk down the aisle. In contrast, you are dateless, overworked and will probably be unable to stand at the end of the Christmas season. 

She would do anything for you though and tonight, after the show, you’ll be going to dinner with her and her fiance Luke and his brothers. 

Stretching in the wings though, you can’t find it in yourself to be as excited as you should, the crushing weight of tonight. As you stretch at your hamstrings, tauter than a tightrope, a sick feeling swirls in your gut. You’ve already fended off a headache in morning rehearsals and now you are trying the massage out the knots that have seemingly formed overnight in your neck and upper shoulders. Someone close to you is breaking in a new pair of pointe shoes so loudly that you can hear it through your headphone and the podcast you have playing and it is so fucking irritating.

Your ballet mistress can also be heard shouting out a ten minute warning which gets you up on your feet and brushing out your ridiculous costume and rushing over to a mirror to touch up the hideous red circles on your cheeks that characterise you as Clara.

From ten minutes to places, time runs away from you. Even more so when the curtain opens and you see the spotlight on you. 

Very little people talk about that feeling of the warm light on you and how it blinds you from the audience but it’s a sensation that it’s impossible to get over. All the adrenaline and panic fades, your breath slows and it’s almost as if you black out from there on in.  

When the first act ends, you slip behind the curtain, your chest heaves with the exertion of making it all look effortless and you stumble into a chair as a makeup artist crowds you. It’s not a quick change per se, however it always feels like a rush to get all changed - new makeup, new costume and still managing to get a break from the long performance length. Just before you go out on stage, stood slightly behind the curtain in the wings, you spot in the crowd Madeline, Luke and his brothers.

You’d managed to bag them box seats and they’ve almost got a perfect view of the stage. Madeline has her head resting on Luke’s shoulder and the two of them are chatting quietly between themselves and to their left are Luke’s brothers. Having never met them, only seeing them in the corners of photos, it’s interesting to see them in person before you meet them at the wedding. The elder, you already know, is Quinn - dressed in a casual black shirt and his hair that pokes out of a cap even though it’s plenty warm in the theatre and he needn’t be wearing one. You watch as he chats to his brother and adjusts the way the cap sits on his head, he looks almost nervous which is hilarious to you, because he isn’t the one in the spotlight right now. Madeline says that it’s just how he looks.

“I don’t know babe, that’s his perpetual expression, like he’s seeing some demons or shit. That’s what the internet says.”

The music cue hits and you forget all about it as you step out onto the stage, feet perfectly on pointe and arms holding fourth position as you move into the centre of the bright white light again, kicking off Act 2.

Quinn Hughes, on the ice, is a Captain. Technically, he’s extremely talented as a defenseman in the NHL league - that’s what the stats say anyways, on top of that a Norris winner and Captain of a struggling team. The Vancouver Canucks. The busy part of their season is approaching - read, the playoffs and God, Quinn is desperate for them to make the playoffs this year, truly aching with the possibility for them to be in the contention to win the Stanley Cup, one step forward. With the minute break the team gets over the Christmas season, Quinn is honestly a little crestfallen that this is what he is doing with his time off. Watching a Christmas Ballet production. 

This whole trip, in his opinion, is a bit of a piss take. 

He flew in from Vancouver to New Jersey just a day ago and has to go back out again soon to play so soon after Christmas. So it feels like a waste of time to travel a couple of hours to see Luke and Jack as well as Luke’s fiance, and then spend half of the day watching one of Madeline’s best friends prance around on stage to Swan Lake. It’s not that Quinn dislikes dance, he thinks that everyone on stage is incredibly talented - they stretch and leap in a way that is borderline unfathomable to Quinn; it’s more that if he was to choose how to spend his Christmas break, this would not be it, ballet performances don’t interest him and are not the peak of his Christmas season. 

So yes, he would much rather be spending this time perfecting his and team's craft for the games that shortly follow after Christmas is over. Especially important if they want to make the playoffs.

 But he was invited. Not just by Madeline, but evidently this is something that Luke and Jack enjoy doing too. Quinn is nothing but polite, raised right by his mother, and such has accepted the invite. 

Quinn hadn’t spent last Christmas in New Jersey with the boys, but this is clearly a yearly activity that the boys do with Madeline, which makes sense as they’re all living in the same apartment at the moment. Which makes Quinn feel… some type of way. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the easiest way to express it would perhaps be loneliness. A detachment that makes him feel left-out from the strong relationship his younger brothers had formed while they spend years together on the same rinks. He should be there. The eldest, he should be there to look after them. Except he’s not, and Quinn is somewhat dismayed to find out they’ve built their own lives together in New Jersey - without Quinn.

Quinn’s trying to swallow it all down. On top of his feelings about the Canucks’ season. It’s stifling.

It’s an entirely other beast that Luke is engaged. His youngest brother is getting married in a couple months and Jack has some weird situationship going on. No, seriously, he is on his phone texting every five seconds; he’s trying to be so sneaky about it but Quinn knows, he knows, it’s obvious on Jack’s face. On the other hand, Quinn hasn’t been on a date in almost spot on eighteen months. Not a serious one, anyways.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, his love life had just stopped and fizzled out. There has been a lot on his plate recently with the Captaincy and hockey in general. Essentially, his job has stunted his love life. It’s a little sad and does make Quinn wonder how the guys with families find the time to spend with their wife and kids when he can’t even make the time to scroll on Raya or Hinge.

In conclusion, Quinn’s life in general is a bit of a mess. He comes to this conclusion sat in a box at a Theatre in New York, watching Madeline’s best friend dance Clara in the Nutcracker on stage. Which they do, every year, apparently. This nugget of information is a bit of a jab in Quinn’s chest, he’s not bitter about it, he’s not.

It leaves even more of a sour taste in Quinn’s mouth when on the way there Jack cannot stop talking about this goddamn ballerina. 

“No dude, it’s like incredible, unfathomable now she can balance like that. She’s balancing on her toes man, her toes! Can you do that because I can’t?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t met her yet Quinny, she’s amazing. No I’m serious, she’s so fun but the dancing is so good too.”

“I haven’t seen the Nutcracker before man, but like I know she’s going to kill it as Clara.”

“How is it even possible to get your leg up that high?”

“I bet she stretches every day.”

“Dude, you’ll love her”

After a while, even though Quinn loves Jack, but it makes him want to scream. Particularly because he does not care about whoever the hell this girl is. Even if she does dance pretty well. And for all Jack’s raving about her skills and shining personality, he’s spent half the performance on his phone texting that girl, and whilst Quinn is very much not enjoying sitting here watching it, at least he has more decency than Jack to keep his phone inside his pocket.

He knows it is probably close to the end as they’re about a half hour into the final act and Quinn couldn’t be more relieved, he’s getting hungry and the jet leg is still catching up to me. By now in Vancouver, Quinn would be tucking into his post-practice meal, putting on an old game and taking mental notes. How he could move better, more efficiently - he needs to be better. That’s really what he would like to be doing, if not now then later tonight, but the night is yet to be over. After this Madeline and Luke are taking him, Jack and the prima ballerina out to dinner. Quinn’s already had a look over the menu to find dishes that will fit in with his meal schedule which is how he knows that it’s a fancy place. Quinn will fit in with his theatre appropriate casual suit but will have to take off his cap, Jack might fall short of the dress code though.

When the final curtain falls, Quinn lets out a sigh of relief and shuffles in his seat. Jack actually looks up from his phone. As the company comes out to take a bow, Madeline and Luke stand up and begin to clap, Jack pops up immediately and Quinn follows behind dumbly.

Madeline’s friend, the little prima ballerina, comes out and takes her bow and the crowd erupts. She has a smile on her face, it’s taut and forced - Quinn can tell, maybe it's the older brother in him, maybe it’s because he practices his own in the mirror, but he can always tell. It’s the first time that Quinn actually takes an interest in her. Nevertheless, she drops into an elegant and sweeping curtsey, and flashes her smile to the crowd then disappears with the others back into the wings.

You had said to Madeline that you’d meet her and the boys at the restaurant later which bought you some time to stretch off and get changed.

Jack had texted just after the show to tell you that they were headed down, the two of you had met a couple times since Madeline had moved in with Luke and Jack and he was a good friend to you. Had he tried it on, yes? But you’d made it clear that it was not going to happen and since he had respected your boundaries and was nothing more than a good friend. His text said to not worry about putting on your sweats even though Madeline had clearly booked a nice restaurant and yet still you taped up your legs and put on a nice dress. Although heels were out of the question, or any open-toed shoe for that matter due to the fact your calves hurt horrifically if you went up on tip-toes and there were welts and bandages all over your feet. 

You were starving after being on stage for such a long time and skipping lunch to keep your figure inside that tight skirt. Being a ballet dancer wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, in fact it was hardly that. Many a ballet teacher had yelled about seeing someone lunch under their leotard and you were a principal dancer, the lead, so that couldn’t be you. Which is why you’d analysed the menu for the restaurant beforehand and how you knew that you couldn’t wear sweats.

Your muscles ache with the short distance it takes to walk from the uber to the table which is a nice table, inconspicuous and in the corner but not bad, it’s a front row seat, table or whatever. Expensive. You know what it looks like. 

Madeline gets up to greet you, pulling you into a warm hug and says,

“Oh my goodness, how are you, you were incredible out there?”

You sit down in the only empty chair around the circle, which is just next to Madeline and on the other side is the brother that you haven’t met yet - Quinn. You let a sweet smile grace your face, as if like natural, good old customer service and shook his hand as you borderline collapsed into the chair.

“Hi, it’s Quinn isn’t it?”

His smile is tight in response, “Nice to meet you.”

When all five of you had sat down, drinks were ordered. The boys stayed away from alcohol for game related excuses but you and Madeline had one. You hoped that the vodka might soothe the pain and the adrenaline come down that you were currently experiencing.

Then food. Quinn and you passed each other odd looks when you both ordered the same thing, the blandest thing on the menu. 

The conversation flowed gently, ebbed and flowed between the boys and you and Madeline and as much as you loved them all, except Quinn, who you didn’t know and he didn’t seem to want to know much about you. 

You tolerate the conversation, half your attention on the topic at hand and whoever is speaking but the other half is focused on the painful sensation radiating up your left leg. The aching pulses irritatingly, causing you to shuffle a little in the hopes that a readjustment of your spine might soothe the pressure on the muscles. However it’s all to no avail, the production is taking its toll on your body you knew, but you smiled along placidly and try to forget about your troubles for the evening. It is the least you could do for Madeline and the lovely evening she had planned. 

About halfway in, between mains and the deserts which you were planning on, Luke and Madeline slip away, for something, you weren’t really concentrating and you were on your third martini. Jack too, got up and snuck away - he’d been on his phone all night, you had noticed and you knew Quinn had too judging by the roll of his eyes every time he caught him.  

So then it was just you and him. 

He leans over to whisper in your ear as you sip at the dregs at your martini, “Don’t you think you should stop.”

You shake your head, snarking back,  “I’m good thanks, mind getting me another?”

He leans back in his chair, but there’s little reaction from his face, it’s cold and hard and somehow you like it even less than a sneer or a scoff. You stay leant forward, chewing on the olives and swivelling your head over your shoulder to look right at him. 

“It’s not going to help in the morning,” he offers.

Confusion washes over you, you turn around a little more to face him more directly, “Sorry?”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures at the empty glass which was already being taken by a waiter, “No matter how much you drink, your leg will still be fucked up in the morning. Probably worse.”

Instinctively, you reach down to rub at your left leg, massaging it over the tape layered over and over and the pair of tights covering up such tape. 

You consider for a moment lying. What fucking leg injury? But Quinn’s got this look, like he just knows. It’s not necessarily care, but you can’t put your finger on it, what it is dancing over his face.

So instead you say, “That’s not what it’s for.” And yet still, somehow, it’s sort of a lie.

Disappointment flashes over his face, deepening in his brown eyes and it makes you shuffle in your seat and look away. You’re almost certain that he knows.

Thankfully, it is then that Luke and Madeline come back in with Jack shortly behind. They’re giggling to themselves and it makes you feel a little sick - or maybe that’s the mix of the ibuprofen, martinis and subsequent adrenaline rush. You take Quinn’s coca cola that’s right next to you - uncaring - and take a sip, hoping it unclogs whatever’s stuck in your throat. It helps for a moment. You don’t catch it, but Quinn passes a look over to you.

Then you catch Madeline’s eye and there’s something in it which makes you pause, stop. There’s a twinkle and she sits. For just a moment. You watch her eyes dart over to Luke, who you can tell, she is holding his hand under the table; they were so utterly in love, and had been since they met, it was adorable. 

Only she could be so lucky.

It’s a sparkle that catches her eyeline from the corner. You flick your head around and see the cake. It’s a chocolate thing with sparklers fizzling on the top of it and a cute little sign which reads - Happy Engagement. It’s adorable.

You’re almost sick.

Somebody’s filling up your glass with champagne. You don’t try to protest but you can’t drink it and don’t complain as Quinn moves it away from you.

Madeline starts talking, sweetly and hand hanging in Luke’s, “So, there’s a reason we wanted to invite you all here.”

Your leg pulses with pain. Jack looks up from his phone from opposite you. Luke smiles. You don’t look at Quinn.

“We wanted a chance to talk to all of you about the wedding, which as you all know will be in the off season.”

The wedding, of course. It makes complete sense that that is why they’re all here. Since they got engaged, just a couple months ago, wedding planning has been flying along; you don’t know all the details and Madeline has been very hush hush about it, but your invite came in the mail the other week and you of course accepted. 

A slice of chocolate cake is served in front of you by a kind looking waiter - he’s kind of cute, and you smile at him when he flashes you one. He moves away around the table and you pull the plate of cake towards you, looking down at the thick slice of chocolate and icing a little dumbly. 

Madeline is still speaking, gripping the stem of her champagne glass with a smile that you know reads as nervousness, “We would like all three of you to be a part of our wedding parties,”

Jack’s grin expands, “I thought that was a given.”

Madeline laughs in response, she’s very clearly used to this, “Well we’d like to extend a formal invitation to you and Quinn to be groomsmen.”

“Don’t be a dick Jacky,” Luke retorts, but it's light-hearted and in good faith.

Quinn shuffles forward in his seat next to you, he’s serious and genuine as he speaks - to Luke or to Madeline, you’re not sure, “Thank you, we appreciate it and I’ll be there for both of you.”

Then, with a playful look, Madeline turns to you and says, “And you,” she points a finger kittenishly, “I’d like to invite you to be my very special maid of honour.”

“Maid of honour, are you serious Maddy?” You gasp, standing up from your chair suddenly and trying to ignore the way your leg screams at you.

You bring her into a close hug, letting her pull you inwards warmly and let yourself smile brightly. It’s not a surprise but it just reaffirms the strength of your friendship despite the distance lately due to the rush of the engagement and the busyness of your career and let out a quiet sigh of relief as you relax into the embrace.

“Of course you’re my maid of honour.”

It feels like a blessing.

The rest of the night is not a blackout per se, but to say that you will have full vivid recall on the events the next morning would be nothing short of a miracle. Everything gets kind of crazy after the announcement and excitement of the wedding which descends upon the group of them. Except for Quinn, who’s kind of a buzzkill. To be fair, it’s something which Jack had warned you about, Quinn is fighting his demons or whatever and is probably going to be a killjoy due to the fact that it’s the middle of the season and playoffs are approaching. You get it, but not really. You can show the fuck up, why can’t Mister Canucks Captain. It’s stupid.

Anyways, you have one more drink and then a couple more after the cake and Madeline in her ultimate wisdom assigns Quinn to walk you home.

It’s cold outside, much colder than when you set off and with the first shiver of your shoulders, Quinn is taking off his jacket and slipping it over your shoulders before you can even protest. Which feels like something he’s been doing all night, not hovering but just noticing, just being there; it’s not annoying but it’s strange for once, being noticed, especially as you’ve barely known each a couple of hours.

You walk, however, in silence. Mostly.

Quinn’s voice is low and husky when he finally does speak out in the dark night’s sky, “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” You respond.

“The dance. I mean you’re obviously in pain, it’s hurting you.” He replies and it’s calm but you’re anything but.

There’s desperation in your defensive tone, “It’s not, it’s just how it is. And I’m not being obvious about anything, the reviews have been very pleasant thank you.”

“It’s obvious to me and it’s dangerous.”

“And I’m supposed to care about that. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Also, I don’t think you should be talking about dangerous sports when you get paid to be checked into walls. Still got all my teeth so there’s that.” You spit back, crossing your hands over your chest.

He stops.

“I’m not trying to criticise you, it’s a question.”

You huff, whirling around, cocking your head as you look back at him, “What are you trying to do Hughes, please enlighten me.”

“I just- I get it.” He concedes, and it only adds to the confusion swirling in your gut.

“You get it?”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks around, he looks lost as his eyes point up towards the sky, “You’re killing yourself for the thing you love because you love it right, and nobody else sees it. You don’t have anyone, a support system. I get it, I am there, I understand. I- I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Something flares in your gut, deep and cruel. He’s right too, he’s right but you hate being seen like that. It’s not right, not with this man who you’ve known for barely a couple of hours. To suggest that he knows you at all, it’s wrong, all completely wrong.

He’s stood there, looking like some sort of lost puppy.  

You say, “Speak for yourself, it’s not like that for me.”

Quinn says nothing and you turn around and walk away. Part of you, the sick and conflicted side, wants him to catch up to you, try again. But all you can hear is the click of your own shoes against the pavement. He doesn’t follow you, of course he does. You don’t want to be disappointed, but you can’t help feeling it anyways.

[spartanseagoat]

Pick a emoji Intuitive Reading: the vibe for the rest of the Summer Season

Pile 1: 😕

Pile 2: 🙂

Pile 3: 😉

Disclaimer: this reading is for entertainment purposes only and I’m not legally responsible for your own actions. You have free will, I’m just a messenger. Enjoy your reading!

Pile 1😕-okay, so I’m getting 2 mixed messages for 2 different groups.

First group: so the tv show “lost” came to my head here. Either that show has been relevant in your life some way or it’s your current life theme. I feel like some of you in this weird limbo era in your life. You’re leaving all the toxic parts of your life behind but you’re uncertain on where to go from here. I’m seeing you should just go with the flow and forgive yourself. Some of you are in your “healing journey” while others are thinking back on their toxic behaviors. You will meet new people either through a shared hobby or through work. This will be like your found family who’s going through the same things you were. You’ll be seen.

2nd group: I heard “disappointed” I feel that you guys are starting to outgrow ppl you once held dear to you. I feel you are expanding mentally and crave deep conversations but surrounded by surface level people. Part of you wants to go but you love these folks so you also want to stay. It’s a weird space to be in. I heard “ level up, but you have to be willing to take that step up the escalator.” So this tells me that it’s best start making new connections that aligns with who you are as person at this moment. You can still love your old connections but it’s also time to make new ones. Youll continue to be stagnant if you don’t.

Overall pile one, you’re hanging and growing and you’re in uncharted territory right now. It’s unfamiliar right now but it will get better by late fall. You’ll have clarity on a question you’ve been hawing on your heart.

This is the end of your reading, hope you continue to have a great summer pile one!!

Pile 2🙂: okay so pile 2! The first thing I heard was “content” and “growing” so too me, this tells me that you’re in this space of just vibing. I feel you have come to grips with something that’s been bothering you since fall of 2023. I see an image of a person raising their hands up saying “it’s in gods hands now.” Lol. This doesn’t feel like defeat but finally finding peace with yourself. I see you on a beach drinking margaritas lol. You’re so unbothered right now, plz I love this lol. August will be an important month for you. I feel you’re going to be making a decision on where you want your life to go. This will have positive outcomes that will start a radical , yes, I heard radical change in the next 2 years of your life. You will have setbacks but the rewards will pay off. I’m getting Capricorn mixed with Leo energy here. “Keep the faith” is what I keep hearing.

This is the end of your reading pile 2! Have a good rest of your summer!

Pile 3 😉: I’m sorry but I started immediately laughing at your energy pile 3😅. “Don’t believe me, just watch.” While smiling like a hyena lol. Oh, ppl tried playing in your face and been doubting you but you’re showing them you’re that bitch lol! I feel you are in hermit mode and focusing on building something that’s going to shock the hell out of some folks by winter. For some of you, it’s getting over an ex, they didn’t think you would get over them. You are, I see you casually going on dates and having fun and unbothered. Go read pile 2 because I feel both of your energies are similar in some ways. I’m also hearing “business ventures and opportunities awaits, but will you catch them?” I feel very good vibes are coming your way but I will warn to have more discernment with who you tell your business too. Move in silence and let your actions to the talking.

This is the end of your reading pile 3, have a great summer!

[autumnslance]

As someone who's played various subscription-based MMOs over 20 years, mostly WoW and FFXIV? Yeah, you need to take breaks from the game occasionally. It does let you avoid burnout of the one thing you've been playing continually non-stop. Because no one can really do that indefinitely.

What Yoshida means by "play other games" between the patches is, you can still play FFXIV, by all means; my FC does weekly stuff together, from current content people are going slow through, to older content folks want to catch up on or certain rewards from. It's mostly social time; right now we're hitting up the last stage of the 8man for any weapon tokens folks want for alt jobs, and then doing maps or farming in Crescent. We hang out in voice chat and goof around. But the rest of the week? If I don't want to log in so I can read, or watch a movie, or play something else?

There's no pressure. I did what I needed to for this patch, I log in to hit up some weekly stuff, maybe do some alt leveling, and socialize with my FC. The rest of the time is mine.

The times I burnt out and took months-long breaks from WoW? Were the times I was pushing hard on content in some of the favorite expacs, like Wrath of the Lich King. I ended up spending several months just playing something else entirely cuz I'd wrecked my sense of fun in the game while pushing Icecrown.

It also recalibrates some things about how the game plays compared to others. If you never touch something else, or only occasionally, your sense of good and bad gameplay can become a little warped. Feedback is also more valuable when you have an idea what else is going on out there.

And, eventually, it is OK to just be done with a game and walk away for a time, or even not go back. I fell out of WoW during Legion - again, an expac I liked, with a lot of decent story and plenty of gameplay to do - because I was simply done after 13+ years. It happens. And sunk cost fallacy making you stay in a game you're not enjoying and won't further enjoy doesn't do anything good for anyone; not bitter feedback to the devs, not fellow players dealing with your negativity, not forcing yourself to do something you don't enjoy.

But also, never say never. So far I've had no desire to go back to WoW. However a lot of other people who bailed out years ago have poked their heads back in with the change in leadership and the fun folks are having in the last 2 expansions. Subscription games swing around, what one doesn't enjoy others do, stories and gameplay change and shift each patch or each expansion. That longevity and constantly shifting audience insulates the bigger games from complete ruin during sub dips.

It is, actually, a healthy model. Because it does prevent total burnout from the game. Subs resurge when a new patch drops. When a new expac comes around. And that's not counting the folks who just pay for the year to stay subbed but still go and do other things for a little while in between, maybe popping on now and then. People finished what they wanted to do, took their break, and now have returned.

And for those who didn't take a break, the doled out content over the course of the patch's life means there are still things to do over time, especially if not inhaling it the instant it drops for various reasons (I'm too old and otherwise busy to spend so much time grinding anymore so do it in smaller chunks over more time).

Having set ways to keep people caught up in gear and not feel like you've missed out on things forever if you didn't play when the content was brand new helps a lot, too, and is something WoW took too long to realize, honestly.

I do wish FFXIV would do something like the WoW tokens, though, as those help a lot with those who want to play but can't afford it, or let their subs lapse temporarily, but convincing SE execs to make that happen isn't terribly likely.

Yoshida will come out on stage and say they are specifically designing the game to encourage people to take breaks and play other stuff in between content cycles, only for the player base to try hard every piece of content in 48 hours and then start screaming that the game is dead because fewer people are playing it a month after the last content update.

[ultrabean]

Hi.

I just want to preface this by welcoming all my new followers, and to also apologise for your subsequent disappointment upon reading this. I also want to thank all of my past followers for all the love and support, happy 2k. It'll probably stay there after this, I bet.

Now, I know many of you have seen my vent posts, especially those where I thought of comitting suicide. I thank you for the concern, I apologise for upsetting a lot of you and I think I owe you some kind of explanation for why I felt that way and also the lack of updates. When I'm stressed or anxious I tend to crash out impulsively. One of those ways is just blurting out my frustrations somewhere until I calm down.

One of the main reasons I've been holding off of Redeemer's Path is because I lowkey want to wait until Deltarune is fully completed, because with the new lore in chapters 3 and 4 it's given me some ideas on how I can continue my AU but the unfortunate part of that is that now there's a lot of plot holes in my comic that I have to retcon. That and also my impostor syndrome has been leadng me to think I'm a bad writer and an artist. If it's not perfect then it's nothing.

So in the meantime that's why I've been trying to work on another part of my AU. Still the same story, just a different point in time.

I know a lot of you have said that I don't have to please you guys by constantly posting updates of redeemer's path and that I should focus on my life, prioritise my mental health and whatnot. Now, I completely understand that what you mean.

However.

It's not just you that I want to make this for. I'm also doing this for me.

I have a lot of high expectations for myself.

If my quality and output doesn't live up to my standards then I am worthless.

A while back I recieved an anonymous ask that got me thinking.

The anon said that I didn't need to earn my place in fandom through art and writing, and while I understood what they said, that statement also deeply terrfied me. To an almost absurd and irrational extent.

You see, when I first discovered Undertale in mid to late 2022 I was 16 at the time. I was going through an extreme mental rough patch at that time and it brought me so much joy and levity, not just the game itself but also watching comic dubs, and all the art that came from the fandom.

I loved it so much that, then and there I staked my entire mental wellbeing, my happiness and sense of self on enjoying it to it's fullest extent, and that to me, meant engaging in everything and anything I could possibly do in the fandom. Making fanart, shipping, making AUs, whatever. To 16-year old me, I had basically convinced myself that I had found "my calling". I MUST enjoy doing anything UTDR related, I HAVE to create something and express myself rather than just... sit on my ass and do nothing about it.

It's because of those feelings I got that I genuinely wanted to create something for myself. A story I (and my teenage self) would have wanted to see. Not only to bring myself a sense of fulfilment by proving I was here but also giving others the same feeling I got when first getting into this game and its fandom.

I, stupidly, selfishly want to effectively cram a decade's worth of human experience into my output because I feel like I missed out on so many things.

It's stupid.

It's not possible, and it's never going to be.

But you have no idea how fucking badly I want it.

It's because of this that I forced myself to think that doing this can and should make me happy, and without it I basically have no purpose.

I love to draw.

I HAVE to draw.

I am no one if I don't draw, because outside of strict obligations just to live I don't think there is anything I actually, from the bottom of my heart, truly want do do more than just create. If I stop drawing the person who typed this out is effectively dead. A literal ghost. Nothing. I am nothing without creating.

When I was a kid I was like, ass-deep in fnaf. And I also wanted to make comics for it, it's just that at that time I had no social media, nor did I have any proper methods of digital art.

I made them by drawing in random notebooks with a pencil. They were probably really shit, but I remember I loved doing it. Then, the moment I hit a roadblock where there was a panel I couldn't draw due to my skill level, I'd just... give up entirely. And then forget about it. Which probably speaks to the quality of the ideas I had, which is to say I had no ideas. I would literally just write it at the seat of my pants with vague ideas of important scenes I wanted to include. Basically like how Scott himself wrote fnaf lol.

The main issue is that now, I have a great idea. A genuinely amazing one that I love so, so goddamn much. And that thakfully, a lot of you seem to as well.

It hurts, because it feels like I'm scared I might not be able to execute it. I'm terrified, because I fear that as I am approaching adulthood I may never be able to find my 16-year old self's fulfilment.

I'm worried that I won't be able to achieve hapiness before my soul is utterly eviscerated with college, work and adulthood (that part's happening already, I wish I never woke up again after 2019). Before I get too old and creepy and it's considered problematic to write romance between teenagers.

It's also the reason I get so frustrated whenever I hit a wall during production. It's because I know it will take time. And I don't think I have time. Not before I start feeling miserable.

And I know this sounds selfish of me, but seeing so many other unfinished AUs gives me such existential dread. Those which were never completed because their creators either moved on, or got sick of the thing they used to love so much, or just life itself getting in the way. Those AUs which never could have reached their fullest potential simply because the people behind them burned out from doing it.

It reminds me that despite everything, even in the face of my hopes and dreams I am not a machine. I am not a god. Fate will come for me too, and I will never find that lovecraftian sense of fulfiment.

The problem is that I imagined my audience as myself, with my own expectations. I wanted so badly, to never make my younger self feel disappointed that the thing they enjoyed consuming so much was suddenly cut short, or fell short of his expectations.

The main issue is that, after both breaks from my pre-university foundation year I found myself too burned out to properly get into the full swing of working on Redeemer's Path. And I fear that once uni starts it will be the same. And I'll be stuck forever.

I don't want to admit I'm losing interest.

I don't want to admit I feel miserable while making this. I'm not supposed to feel this way, I'm supposed to be happy.

Because if I do admit it it's acknowledging that I've lost.

That I've failed you.

That I've failed myself.

That I am a disappointment.

That in the past one and a half months, during this gracious second chance I'd been given to actually lock the fuck in, I have been sitting on my ass and doing nothing.

What if I never come back?

What if I just up and leave without ever perfecting everything I'm supposed to do?

I look at different AUs all around me, all made just by regular people but loved by millions. I don't know how some of them even manage to break 200 pages. I don't even know how some people even manage to finish doing this shit.

I know so may of you think I'm being ridiculous.

I know so many of you have told me to be kinder to myself, to think positively and keep going.

I know so many of you have told me "there is no set pace, only the pace you go at."

I know this is a byproduct of a childhood growing up under a capitalistic grindset, forcing me to think that I NEED to make more, and make it faster.

But I'm really struggling to do that when the perpetrator of these thoughts lives inside your own skull. Thinking positively usually works for a short while until my brain stops believing me and I need external proof that what I'm thinking has merit to it.

So... blabbering aside, what does this all mean for Redeemer's Path?

Well, this is a word I hate using of because the way I've seen it being used it usually means bye bye forever.

I'm going on a hiatus.

I don't know how long.

Or if I'm even coming back.

I may work on things behind the scenes a little, but I don't know.

Again I would like to apologise, not just to all of you for this disappointng news, but also to my younger self.

I failed you.

For all your daydreams and enthusiasm I failed to give you a fulfiling release.

To all the uh, comic dubbers who have reached out to me (especially you, Paramasquerade, it's been damn near an eterinity since our last chat) I'm sorry that you caught wind of my AU at a really bad time. Pun somewhat intended.

I think, as stupid and as wish-fulfilling as this sounds I genuinely wish I got into undertale when I was a kid, with all the skills, tools and knowledge I have now so that I'd just have more time.

I feel ashamed to keep the masterpost up like some sort of fucking clown, but if you want it, here.

So, this is goodbye for now. I really don't know what more I can say.