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thatfeelinwhenyou · 2 days ago

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SAFE & SOUND — part 3

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 7.4k

MASTERLIST

Whispers.

Soft at first, like the rustling of leaves in the wind. But they grow louder, more insistent, wrapping around you like tendrils of smoke. You’re alone. Back in the forest, standing in the middle of that clearing.

You spin around, your heart pounding in your chest. They’re here.

Rotters.

They shamble toward you from every direction. Some are missing limbs, dragging broken legs behind them. Others have half their faces torn away, flesh hanging in ragged strips. But it’s their eyes that hold you captive—clear, human, and horrifyingly aware.

They’re whispering.

You can’t make out the words, no matter how hard you strain to listen. The whispers slither into your mind, incomprehensible and maddening, sending a shiver down your spine.

You take a step back. They take a step forward.

Every time you blink, they’re closer. Closing in, tightening the circle around you. You’re surrounded.

“Y/N.”

Their whispers begin to merge, forming one singular voice. It echoes through the clearing, sharp and cold, making your blood run icy.

“Y/N.”

It’s louder now. They’ve reached you. Hands—cold, skeletal hands—grab at your shoulders. Tugging. Shaking.

“Y/N.”

The voice isn’t distant anymore. It’s right there. Right in your ear. Your chest tightens, your breath caught in your throat as panic seizes you. The hands grip harder. Shaking you so violently you think they might throw you to the ground.

There’s nowhere to go.

You’re going to die.

“Y/N!”

You gasp, your eyes flying open. The forest, the rotters, the whispers—they’re gone. Instead, you find yourself staring into a familiar pair of dark eyes. Jungwon’s hands are on your arms, gently shaking you awake.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice soft but steady. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe and sound.”

Your chest heaves, your pulse still racing as the remnants of the nightmare cling to you. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your hands tremble as you push yourself upright.

Jungwon’s brow furrows with concern. “You were shaking. I tried waking you earlier, but you wouldn’t come out of it.”

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. “It… it was nothing,” you say, your voice hoarse. “Just a nightmare.”

Jungwon doesn’t look convinced. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he sighs, leaning back slightly. “You sure?”

You nod, forcing yourself to steady your breathing. “Yeah.” But even as you say it, the whispers linger in your mind, a haunting echo you can’t quite shake.

You take a look around, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as the surroundings come into focus. The others have already alighted the van, their silhouettes moving quietly in the dawn light. The sky is painted in soft hues of orange and pink as the sun slowly rises from the horizon, casting long shadows over the road and surrounding trees.

“Are we there already?” you ask groggily, your voice raspy from sleep.

Jungwon, still seated beside you, reaches for his canister and hands it over without a word. You take it gratefully, the cool water washing away the dry, bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, we ran out of fuel,” he replies.

You glance toward the front of the van, where Ni-ki is tinkering under the hood, muttering quietly to himself. Jake stands nearby, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, his gaze drifting toward the distant village down the hill.

“Jungwon,” a familiar voice calls from outside. Heeseung appears at the foot of the van, one hand resting on the roof for support. “We’re thinking about checking out the village down there. Hopefully, siphon some gas and scavenge for supplies.”

Jungwon nods thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the horizon. He’s calculating the risks, weighing the possibilities before making his decision.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Let’s do that. But not all of us. Just a few.”

You watch as the group gathers around to discuss the plan, their voices hushed but purposeful. There’s an underlying tension in the air—a shared understanding that every move counts, every decision could mean the difference between life and death.

Heeseung crosses his arms, his sharp gaze landing on Jungwon. “Who’s going?”

Jungwon’s eyes flick between the group, assessing each person in turn. “Jay, Ni-ki, and I. Us three will check out the village. You guys stay here to keep an eye on the perimeter.”

Sunoo lets out a scoff from where he leans against a tree. “You’re sending Ni-ki? What if we need the van fixed while he’s gone?”

“We’re not leaving him behind,” Jungwon says firmly. “If there’s gas to be found, we’ll need someone who knows how to siphon it properly.”

Ni-ki straightens from where he’s crouched by the van, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Relax, Sunoo. I’ll be back before you miss me.”

The feeling of guilt rises again—a familiar weight you’ve carried for far too long. It creeps up your spine and settles deep in your gut. You shouldn’t be sitting here, letting them take all the risks. They’ve already been through enough. And yet here you are, another mouth to feed, another body to protect.

It doesn’t sit right with you.

The words slip out before you can stop them. “No, Ni-ki should stay.”

Jungwon’s gaze snaps to you, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What?”

Ni-ki frowns, his usual playful expression replaced by something more serious. “Why? I’m the only one who knows how–” and he yawns. Self-explanatory.

“Because you’ve been driving all night,” you reply, your tone steady but resolute. “You need rest”

“I know how to siphon gas,” you say, your voice firmer this time. “My dad’s a mechanic back in the province. I used to help him all the time at his shop. I know what I’m doing.”

The group falls silent, everyone turning to look at you. The weight of their stares presses down on you, but you stand your ground, refusing to back down.

“You’ve done it before?” Heeseung asks, tilting his head slightly as he studies you.

You nod. “Plenty of times.”

Jungwon’s expression remains unreadable as he considers your words. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to shut you down. Because at the end of the day, whatever he says goes. But when he speaks, his voice is measured but tinged with something you can’t quite place—concern, maybe.

“It’s not just about siphoning gas,” he says. “It’s dangerous out there. You saw what we ran into last night.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “But I can handle it. You need me to do this.”

The silence stretches for a moment before Heeseung speaks up, breaking the tension. “She’s got a point.”

Jay scoffs from where he’s still leaning against the tree, arms crossed over his chest. “This is insane. We barely know her, and you want to let her go off into the village?”

“Jay,” Jake’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and steady. “Again. Not your place to speak.” He doesn’t even look up from the med kit he’s reorganising again for the tenth time, but his tone is enough to silence Jay instantly.

The weight of Jake’s words hangs heavy in the air. You can see Jay tense, his jaw clenching as he looks away. It’s clear Jake hasn’t forgiven him—not entirely. That wound still festers beneath the surface, a quiet reminder of what they’ve lost.

You take a breath, your fingers curling into your palm before you speak. “Trust me. Or better yet, don’t trust me. If anything goes wrong, it’s easier to leave me behind anyway.”

Your words come out too easily. Too naturally. They’re the kind of words you’ve told yourself for days now—an unspoken truth you’ve lived by. The moment they leave your mouth, though, you see the ripple of discomfort they send through the group.

Every one of them shifts, guilt flickering across their faces. Heeseung’s hand falters over the strap of his bag, Sunoo looks away entirely, and even Jay’s hardened expression cracks for a split second.

“Y/N, that’s not—” Heeseung starts, his voice soft with concern, but you cut him off before he can finish.

“I was just joking,” you say quickly, forcing a smile you don’t feel. “Relax, guys.”

But no one laughs. No one even cracks a smile. Instead, their discomfort seems to deepen, the awkward silence stretching longer than you anticipated. It hits you then—you’ve triggered something you didn’t even realise was sensitive. Maybe it’s because those words carry a truth they’ve already lived through. Maybe it’s because the thought has crossed their mind before.

Either way, the tension is palpable. You’ve misjudged your audience.

Jungwon steps forward, his expression calm but serious. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet but firm. “Don’t joke about that.”

His words linger in the air, not harsh, but weighted with something you can’t quite name. There’s something in his eyes—a heaviness, a flicker of guilt or regret—that makes you realise he’s not saying it to admonish you. He’s saying it to comfort himself.

You hold his gaze for a moment, searching for the meaning behind those words. There’s no accusation there. Just a quiet plea.

“Alright,” you say softly, nodding once. “I won’t.”

The group falls into silence again, but it’s different now. Heavier.

The road leading into the village is eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the crunch of your boots against the gravel. Jay walks a few steps ahead, his bow slung over his shoulder, his posture tense as he scans the area. Jungwon stays closer to you, his gaze sweeping over every abandoned house and overgrown field, ever the vigilant leader.

It’s a small village—the kind you’d expect to see bustling with life, where neighbours of neighbours know one another by name, where doors are left unlocked, and everyone exchanges gifts on Christmas and rice cakes on New Year’s Eve.

But now it’s nothing more than a graveyard of memories. Weeds grow wild through the cracks in the pavement, creeping up the sides of empty houses. Windows are shattered, doors left ajar, swaying gently in the breeze as if still waiting for someone to come home. Faded signs and rusting bicycles lean against walls that haven’t seen a human touch in years.

Unfortunately, a small village also means there’s no need for cars to travel around. No gas for you to siphon.

But among the dense field stretching miles out of the village, something catches your attention.

Overgrown crops, long since withered and dead, stretch endlessly in every direction. Tangled weeds twist through the rows, choking out what little life might have remained. And in the middle of it all, sitting like a forgotten relic from a time before, is a tractor. Its rusted frame gleams faintly in the early morning light, patches of red paint barely visible beneath layers of rust and grime.

Gas.

The three of you stop at the edge of the field, taking in the sight.

“That thing’s been sitting there for a while,” Jay says, his tone sceptical. “No guarantee it even has gas left.”

“Only one way to find out,” Jungwon replies, already moving toward it.

You and Jay exchange a glance before following him, cautiously weaving your way through the wild weeds and brittle stalks.

The field is too quiet, too still. The kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl, as though something is watching from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to move. The overgrown weeds brush against your legs, and every rustle sets your nerves on edge. It feels like something is going to pop out from beneath the ground and take a chomp out of your feet.

The unease prickles at the back of your mind, but you push the feeling aside.

When you reach the tractor, Jungwon pulls out the siphoning kit Ni-ki packed for you. He hands you the tube and a canister. You kneel beside the tractor, unscrewing the fuel cap before inserting the tube.

“Let’s hope this thing’s got something left in it,” you mutter, giving the tube a few pumps. It takes a moment, but then—finally—liquid begins to flow.

Jungwon gives a small nod of approval before stepping back to keep watch. Jay crouches nearby, pulling out a knife and absently running his thumb along the edge of the blade.

The silence stretches as you wait for the canister to fill. The distant rustling of leaves in the breeze is the only sound. Until you decide to break it.

“It might not mean anything, but I would’ve done it too,” you say softly, your voice carrying across the field. Both Jungwon and Jay turn to look at you, confusion flickering across their faces. You meet Jay’s gaze, holding it steady. He knows what you’re referring to, but you spell it out anyway.

“Going after him—I mean.”

Jay’s jaw tightens, and he looks away. “You don’t have to lie to comfort me. I know what I did was wrong.”

“There’s no right or wrong in the apocalypse. But even if you think it’s wrong, you don’t regret it” you say, your tone calm but unwavering.

Jay’s head snaps back toward you, his brow furrowing. “What are you trying to say?”

You shrug, leaning back slightly on your heels. “What I’m trying to say is, what you’re feeling is valid. If it were up to me, I would’ve shot him in both ankles. Make sure he couldn’t run to begin with.”

There’s a beat of silence. Jungwon shifts slightly, his gaze flickering between you and Jay, but he doesn’t interrupt. He’s listening too.

Jay’s expression is guarded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re not scared to say that? In front of him?” He gestures toward Jungwon with a tilt of his head.

“Why would I be?” You glance at Jungwon briefly before turning back to Jay.

“You probably already figured it out,” Jay says quietly, his gaze fixed on the blade in his hand. “But the whole point of this group—the way Jungwon leads us—is to make sure we don’t become the monsters we ran away from.” He pauses, his jaw clenching briefly before continuing. “Whatever Jake or the others feel about what I did… that’s valid.”

You watch him carefully, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tighten around the knife as if it’s the only thing keeping him steady. There’s guilt there, deeply rooted, but also defiance. He doesn’t regret what he did—he regrets what it cost him.

“Protecting your loved ones comes at a much too high cost sometimes,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the heaviness of the conversation. “Frankly speaking, if I saw someone I love die in front of me, I’d do much more than just shoot someone in the ankle.”

Jay’s knife stills in his hand. For a brief moment, something shifts in his expression—a crack in the hardened exterior he’s built around himself. In that moment, he looks younger. Less guarded. More human.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, tinged with something close to regret. “It doesn’t bring her back, though.”

“No,” you agree gently. “It doesn’t.”

The words hang between you, heavy with shared understanding. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the sound of the wind rustling through the overgrown field filling the silence.

“But,” you add, your gaze locking on his, “you seem to forget that it’s also human to want justice. Or revenge. Whatever you want to call it.”

Jay lifts his head slowly, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—recognition, maybe. Like he hadn’t allowed himself to think of it that way before.

“Justice or revenge,” he repeats, almost to himself. “I guess it depends on who’s telling the story.”

You nod. “Or who’s left to tell it.”

He lets out a quiet exhale, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “I don’t know what that makes me, though. A monster or just… someone who’s trying to survive.”

You offer a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Maybe it makes you both.”

Jay huffs a soft, humourless laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Jungwon, who’s been standing quietly off to the side, finally speaks. “It makes you someone who’s still here. Someone who’s still fighting. That’s all that matters.” His voice is steady, filled with that quiet authority that makes people listen. Jay glances at Jungwon, something unspoken passing between them before he nods.

The canister fills with a soft glug, and you pull the tube out, wiping your hands on your jeans. You glance at Jay again, his gaze distant as he processes your words. You screw the fuel cap back onto the tractor and Jay picks up the canister.

The three of you head back through the field, the morning light casting long shadows across the overgrown crops. You and Jungwon walk a few feet ahead while Jay trails behind in silence. For the first time, the silence between you and Jay feels a little lighter. A little more bearable.

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the weight of his unspoken words in the way his gaze flickers toward you. He glances at you, then away, like he’s searching for the right moment to speak—or maybe the right words. It’s subtle, but you notice it every single time.

It’s fascinating, really.

Just days ago, back at the auto shop, he was an impenetrable shell. Guarded, unreadable, every word measured and calculated. His presence then felt heavy with the burden of leadership, the weight of keeping the group alive pressing down on his shoulders.

But now? Now, you see something else. There’s a quiet shift in him. A softening.

It’s in the way his shoulders aren’t as tense, the way his eyes don’t carry the same storm they did before. He still holds himself with purpose, still walks with that quiet confidence that commands respect. But there’s something more now—something vulnerable. Something real.

He’s finally living up to his name.

Garden.

Not the enclosed, walled-off kind. But an open, untamed one. Wildflowers breaking through cracks in stone, soft green creeping over hard surfaces, reaching out toward the light despite everything.

And it makes you wonder if you’ve planted yourself there, too. If, without realising it, you’ve taken root in the cracks he kept so tightly sealed. The thought sends an ache through your chest—one you can’t quite place, one you’re not sure you want to name.

But it doesn’t change the facts.

Your plan to slip away quietly still stands. It has to. The moment you start to care too much, the moment you feel like you belong—that’s the moment everything falls apart. You’ve learned that lesson the hard way, and you’re not about to forget it.

You glance at Jungwon, his gaze once again flickering toward you before settling ahead. There’s trust in his eyes now, trust you never expected to earn. And it terrifies you.

Because when the day comes, when you finally decide it’s time to leave, it won’t be as simple as walking away. You’ll not only have to pull yourself out of that garden—you’ll have to dig. Dig deep. Find every root, every tendril of connection that’s wound itself around your heart, and sever it.

And that’s what scares you the most.

You’ve always been good at surviving. Good at keeping your distance. But something about this group, about him, makes you question whether you’re as detached as you like to think.

You push the thought aside, your grip tightening on the knife at your belt. Not yet. Not today.

For now, you keep walking.

But with each step, the weight in your chest grows heavier. The more you procrastinate confronting this—the way your walls have started to crumble, the way the cracks are widening—the deeper the roots grow.

And one day, those roots will grow too deep. So deep that no matter how hard you dig, no matter how determined you are to sever them, they’ll remain. Buried beneath layers of regret, fear, betrayal and everything you’ve been running from.

And deep down, you know this. You’ve always known.

It terrifies you.

Because in a world where nothing is certain, where survival often means cutting ties and leaving before things fall apart, you can feel yourself tethering to something—or someone—that you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk away from.

Knowing this and yet, you keep walking.

The three of you near the foot of the hill, the climb back to the van just ahead. Your legs ache from the trek, and your mind is still spinning from your earlier conundrum. But just as you’re about to start the ascent, something stops you cold.

At first, you think it must be your mind playing tricks again—another hallucination brought on by exhaustion. But no. These voices are real. They’re vivid, sharp, and far too close.

“Get down,” Jungwon whispers, already crouching low. His eyes scan the surroundings, quickly assessing the situation.

You drop to your knees, heart pounding in your chest. The voices grow clearer, drifting through the trees just ahead.

“When are your stupid friends coming back with the gas?” It’s a voice you don’t recognise—rough, impatient.

“If they’re taking this long, it better be because there’s so much gas for them to siphon,” another voice replies, laced with irritation.

“Or maybe there’s no gas at all, and you idiots are just wasting your time on us.” Sunoo, the ever so convincing diplomat. He might as well tell them to shoot him right there and then.

Jungwon glances up from his crouched position, subtly peering over the tall grass. His blonde hair, ironically, blends into the wildflowers scattered around, making him almost invisible from a distance.

He raises two fingers, silently indicating the number of visible threats.

Jay crouches beside him, his bow already in hand, an arrow notched and ready to draw. “I can easily take them out,” he whispers, his tone steady but eager. “One shot each.”

“No.” Jungwon shakes his head firmly. “Think about it. Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Ni-ki could’ve taken them out themselves. They wouldn’t let themselves get caught off-guard. Which means there’s more of them. Armed. Hidden.”

The realisation sends a chill down your spine. Of course. It’s not just two men holding your friends hostage—there’s a whole group. And they’re lying in wait, hidden in the trees or behind the van, ready to strike if anyone makes a move.

Jay curses under his breath. “Fuck, I knew I should’ve brough the pistol along.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his eyes scanning the area for any possible advantage. His mind is already racing through options, calculating risks. His hand twitches toward the knife at his side, but he doesn’t draw it. Not yet.

“We wait,” he says quietly. “We need to figure out how many we’re dealing with.”

“And if they hurt them?” you ask, your voice wavering despite your best efforts to stay calm.

“They won’t,” says Jungwon, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Not yet. They want something. And as long as they think they can get it, they’ll keep them alive.”

You swallow hard, nodding. But your eyes drift back toward the direction of Sunoo’s voice, your chest tightening with worry.

The seconds crawl by, the tension weighing heavier with each passing moment. Every whisper from the strangers ahead feels amplified, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant calls of birds. You try to focus, straining to pick out anything useful—a clue about how many of them there are or where they’re positioned—but the sounds blur together, indistinct and frustratingly useless.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you catch it—a flicker of movement. Your head snaps toward the tail of the van, heart pounding. For the briefest moment, a hand emerges, fingers twitching in a silent signal.

Three.

The hand disappears just as quickly as it appeared, but the message is clear. You nudge Jungwon lightly, your fingers brushing his arm. His gaze follows yours to the spot where the hand had been, and you watch as his expression hardens. His eyes narrow in that calculating way you’ve come to recognise.

Three.

No—more. The hand reappears, flashing another quick signal.

Five.

Your stomach twists, the tension tightening like a noose around your chest. Five? Does that mean five hidden threats, or five including the two already standing out in the open with your friends? You curse under your breath, frustrated that you hadn’t thought to establish hand signals with them sooner. Anticipating a situation like this should’ve been second nature by now.

Your heart skips a beat as the hand emerges once more. But this time, it’s more than just fingers. You catch a glimpse of hair, dishevelled but unmistakable.

Sunghoon.

His hands are tied behind his back, but he’s doing everything he can to communicate. His fingers form a fist, except for his thumb and index finger, which he cocks repeatedly.

“They’re armed,” Jungwon whispers, his voice low and steady, cutting through your thoughts. He’s already figured it out. Of course he has. Sunghoon’s making the universal sign for guns, cocking his thumb like a makeshift trigger. When he raises two fingers, it clicks.

Two guns.

Three hidden threats.

Five in total.

You turn to look at Jungwon and Jay and it’s pretty clear they figured it out too. Their faces mirror your own dread, their expressions tense and focused. There’s no room for error here.

Sunghoon’s hand twitches again, slower this time. He forms a clenched fist before making a sweeping motion inwards, his fingers pointing to the back of the van.

“He wants us to come up behind the van,” you whisper to Jungwon, barely able to hear your own voice over the pounding of your heart. Jungwon gives a slight nod, his eyes never leaving Sunghoon.

But then Sunghoon’s fingers start counting down.

Five.

Wait, what?

Four.

Panic flares in your chest. What’s the plan? There’s no time to figure this out.

Three.

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his hand inching toward the hilt of his blade.

Two.

If you rush out now, you’ll be spotted. You know it. You’ll be shot before you even make it to the van.

One.

You freeze.

“So, what’s the plan, lady and gentlemen?” Sunoo’s voice rings out, light and sarcastic despite the weight of the situation. “Gonna stand there all day?”

He’s creating a distraction. Of course he is. Turning the strangers’ attention to him, giving you a window of opportunity to sneak around. For a brief moment, you’re struck by how well this group operates together—how they fill in the gaps for each other. It’s seamless, even in chaos.

You also catch the nuance in Sunoo’s words. Lady and gentlemen. One woman. Four men.

One of the men steps closer, his rifle glinting in the light. “Keep talking, pretty boy. See how that works out for you.”

“I understand,” Sunoo says lightly. “But I really do need to pee. Would you be so kind as to help me out?”

The man doesn’t even flinch. “No. Pee your pants.”

Sunoo lets out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, come on. I know it’s the apocalypse, but you can’t strip me of my basic human rights. Back in the day, you’d be charged with kidnapping on multiple counts.”

“This isn’t ‘back in the day’ now, is it?” says one of them.

“Fine. But at least unzip my trousers and help me take it out, please!" you make a mental note that Sunoo and lack of decorum do not go well together, even in the apocalypse.

The man’s face twists in disgust, and a woman’s voice pipes up from the other side, exasperated. “Ugh. Just help him.”

There’s shuffling. Movement. Now.

You push yourself off the ground, body low as you crawl across the curb and step into the open road. You creep behind the van, the gravel crunching quietly beneath your boots. Jungwon and Jay follow close, silent shadows trailing in your wake.

Sunghoon stands just a few feet away, Jake perpendicular from him, both still bound. The tension between the three of you is palpable, a shared understanding that one wrong move could cost everything.

Unfortunately, from your position, you can't see where the oppressors are without risking exposure. The van offers some cover, but it’s not enough to make a clear assessment. Your pulse drums steadily in your ears as you scan your surroundings, searching for any advantage.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jake shifting slightly. At first, you think he’s adjusting his position, but then a glint catches your attention—a flash of sunlight reflecting off the knife secured in his belt. Your brow furrows, curious.

Jake moves again, this time more deliberately, tilting the blade just enough to catch the light. The reflection bounces toward the treeline, and you realise with a start that he’s not just adjusting—he’s positioning himself to show you something.

He’s using the reflection to signal.

You narrow your eyes, focusing on the faint gleam in the knife. It flickers as Jake tilts it, revealing small glimpses of what lies beyond your line of sight. Through the distorted image in the reflection, you can make out the silhouette of a woman standing near Sunghoon. She’s clinging to the arm of a man with a rifle.

Jake tilts the knife again, revealing two more figures standing near the van’s hood. They’re not moving much, but the muzzle of a rifle glints faintly in the light.

Four.

Your chest tightens as you try to piece together the situation. You glance at Jungwon, who’s crouched nearby, his gaze locked on the same reflection. His lips press into a thin line as he absorbs the information.

Four by the van. One unaccounted for.

“What? Are you going to watch me pee?” Sunoo’s voice drifts through the trees, loud and mocking. He sounds far too relaxed for someone tied up and at gunpoint. It would almost be funny—if it wasn’t terrifying. But you know exactly what he’s doing—keeping the focus on himself. No, not just that.

The pieces fall into place. Four by the van. One with Sunoo. Two confirmed firearms.

You take a risk, tilting your head just enough to peek beyond the edge of the van. The road stretches out before you, dappled with sunlight filtering through the trees. And then you see it—an opportunity.

Your gaze sharpens as the woman catches your attention again. She’s unarmed, still clinging to the man with the rifle, her hands trembling slightly. The way her fingers grip his sleeve, the tension in her posture—it tells you everything. She’s scared. Not just for herself, but for him.

Girlfriend? Wife? Sister? It doesn’t matter. It’s a weakness.

Your heart pounds as you glance at Sunghoon, signalling with a subtle nod. He inches to his left, giving you a clear path. Every movement is slow, deliberate. The woman remains oblivious, her focus entirely on the man she’s holding on to. You shift your weight, exchanging a glance with Jungwon. His eyes narrow, and in an instant, he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Don’t.

The silent message is written all over his face. His hand twitches, reaching toward you, a last-ditch effort to stop you. But you’ve already made up your mind.

You step out from behind the van, your footsteps soft but purposeful. The knife in your hand feels like an extension of your arm. The woman’s head snaps up as she senses your presence, her eyes widening in shock.

Before she can react, your arm wraps around her neck, pulling her close. The blade presses against her throat, just hard enough to make her freeze. A gasp escapes her lips—a fragile sound, filled with fear.

“Move and I’ll slit her throat,” you say, your voice cold and unyielding. Something in it that scares you even. The woman stiffens in your grip, her breath catching in her throat. The man in front of her spins around, his rifle swinging toward you before he freezes, wide-eyed and panicked.

Beside you, Jungwon stays hidden, crouched low behind the van. He signals to Jay with a subtle nod, motioning for him to circle around to the front of the van now that every pair of eyes is locked on you.

“Let her go!” he shouts, his hands tightening around the weapon.

"Not a chance," you reply, pressing the blade just a little closer to the woman’s neck. Her breath hitches, a strained gasp breaking through the tense silence. She trembles in your hold, her fingers clawing weakly at your arm—not to fight you off, just instinct, pure desperation. Her nails barely scrape your skin, like she knows it won’t help but can’t stop herself from trying.

You know what must be running through her mind. You wonder if she feels like prey in a trap, heart pounding, mind racing to find a way out. Your mind spirals further, unwanted thoughts clawing at the edges of your focus.

This moment is a reflection. A sickening déjà vu.

Would this woman be feeling what their friend felt when that man held her at knifepoint?

Would this man be feeling what Jay had felt when he witnessed his loved one on the verge of death?

Would they see you in that same light?

Then again, why would you care what they think about you? It’s not like you’ll be staying long anyway.

So, you don’t let go. You can’t let go. Because you know what will happen when you do.

The man with the rifle looks like he’s calculating his odds, his gaze flicking between you and your hostage. The tension is palpable, each second stretching out endlessly. The woman whimpers, her body trembling against you. She’s scared. Good. Fear keeps people compliant.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “We didn’t come here to hurt anyone.”

You scoff, the sound bitter in your throat. “Funny. That’s not what it looks like.”

The man with the rifle shifts again, and your grip on the woman tightens. “You really want to test me?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “Because I promise you, I don’t care about her life nearly as much as you do.”

“No!” he shouts, his voice raw with desperation, his grip loosening on the rifle. “Don’t hurt her!”

For a moment, everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. The trees sway gently in the breeze, the leaves rustling like whispers of a long-forgotten world. The morning sun filters through the branches, casting dappled shadows on the road. And yet, all you can focus on is the pulse beneath your hand—the steady, panicked thrum of the woman’s heartbeat against your arm.

Mentally slapping yourself out of your trance, you command. “Drop your weapon.”

He hesitates, his knuckles whitening around the rifle. His fear is palpable, radiating off him in waves. You press the knife just a fraction deeper against the woman’s skin, enough to make her whimper. “I said, drop it.”

The man hesitates for a long moment, his grip tightening. His gaze flickers to the woman in your grasp, then back to you. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he weighs his options. But you also see something else.

Fear. Not fear of you—but fear of losing her.

That’s the thing about love, isn’t it? It makes you vulnerable. It cracks you open, gives someone the power to hurt you. And if someone knows where to press, that love becomes a liability.

Slowly, he lowers the rifle, the barrel pointing toward the ground.

“Good,” you say, your tone steady. “Now kick it over.”

The rifle skids across the asphalt, stopping just a few feet from Jungwon. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jungwon’s expression—tense, calculating, but not surprised. He moves slowly, staying low as he presses himself closer to the van, positioning himself to take control of the situation once the opportunity presents itself.

"You don’t want to do this," another man, closer to the hood of the van, says slowly. His voice is calm, measured. Too measured. Like he’s trying to steady not just himself, but the entire situation. His eyes flick between you and the woman you’re holding. He’s trying to be the voice of reason, the negotiator, but there’s a tremor in his tone—one he can’t quite hide.

"You don’t want to hurt her."

"Don’t tell me what I want," you snap, your voice cutting through the tense air like a blade. Your grip on the knife doesn’t waver, but inside? Inside, it’s chaos.

Because he’s right. You don’t want to hurt her. Not really. Not if there’s another way out. They’ve got guns and they’re desperate, just like you.

Desperation makes monsters of everyone.

The thought claws at the edges of your mind as you adjust your grip on the woman. She’s trembling, tears slipping down her face, but she stays silent. Her breath comes in short, shallow gasps, her chest heaving against your arm. You can feel her fear, taste it in the air, and it makes your stomach turn.

This whole situation, it’s just the natural order of things now. The strong preying on the weak. Demanding supplies, food, whatever it takes to keep their own people alive. You’ve seen it before, lived through it. Hell, there’s a whole organisation running rampage out there doing exactly that.

Regardless of their intentions and how they do it, it’s survival. But that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

And you know—you know—these people aren’t much different from you and your group. They’re just trying to survive, trying to keep moving, to keep the people they care about alive. They don’t want to hurt you any more than you want to hurt them. At least not until you give them a reason to.

And you did. The moment you grabbed the woman, the second your knife pressed against her throat, you gave them all the reason they needed to pull the trigger. Because you touched something they care about.

That’s the thing about people. It’s all about who and what they care about. And when you touch it, threaten it, everything changes. Logic, reason, morality—it all flies out the window. And now? Now they’re counting down the seconds until they can shoot you in the face without a second thought.

But they forget one thing.

They touched your people first.

"You’ve got about thirty seconds," you say, your voice steady, cold. "Drop all your weapons, let my people go, or I swear I’ll slit her throat."

You glance at Jungwon out of the corner of your eye. He’s still crouched low behind the van, waiting, watching. His expression is unreadable, but you know him well enough now to see the tension in his shoulders, he’s waiting for the right moment.

Jay is out of sight, somewhere on the other side of the van. You can’t see him, but you know he’s moving, circling, trying to find an angle. Trying to protect your group the only way he knows how.

Your gaze flickers to the others. Jake and Heeseung is still bound, but their eyes are locked on you, a mix of shock and something like pride flickering in their expression. Sunghoon remains frozen, his body tense but ready to spring into action the second he gets a chance. Ni-ki is pinned down on the hood of the van but his eyes are on you, unwavering, waiting.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flicker of movement in the treeline—Sunoo. His figure is barely visible through the dense foliage, but you can tell his hands are free. He must have managed to cut through the rope binding him, probably using the rough bark of a tree. That—or the guy tasked with watching him isn’t very good at his job.

You keep your gaze locked on the man in front of you, careful not to let your eyes betray Sunoo’s presence. The last thing you need is for them to catch on. Instead, you let your peripheral vision do the work, tracking Sunoo’s slow, deliberate movements as he inches forward, his footsteps light and calculated.

He’s closing the distance. The guy guarding him hasn’t noticed. Too busy shifting from foot to foot, fidgeting nervously with his knife. He’s jittery. Out of his depth. They’ve clearly never done this before. Not properly, at least. There’s no confidence in the way he stands, no calm resolve you’d expect from someone used to wielding power.

But the man closest to you—the one with everything to lose—is different.

His jaw clenches tight, muscles flexing as he shifts his weight. You can tell he’s getting impatient, barely containing his frustration. His hand twitches at his side, fingers curling and uncurling like he’s itching to do something, anything. He keeps glancing at the rifle on the ground—probably kicking himself for letting go of it in the first place.

“What’s your plan here?” he sneers, voice low and venomous. His eyes bore into you with disdain. “Think you’re walking out of this alive?”

God, you hope so.

But hope isn’t a strategy, and you know that better than most. You don’t answer him. Instead, you move deliberately, swinging your free hand up to cover the woman’s face, pressing your palm over her eyes. She gasps, stiffening in your grip, her hands scrabbling weakly at your arm. She doesn’t fight hard enough to hurt you—too paralysed by fear.

The man in front of you frowns, taking a cautious step forward, his confusion clear in the crease of his brow. Yes, that’s right. Let him think you’re escalating the situation. Let him think you’re panicking, acting out of desperation.

But It’s nothing more than a calculated move—meant to look like you’re trying to intimidate her further. Really, it’s to cover her vision. Keep her from seeing Sunoo.

“Shh,” you murmur harshly against her ear, low and threatening. Your voice doesn’t waver, even as your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest. She lets out a muffled whimper, trembling, and you press your hand more firmly over her face. The other man with the rifle steps forward, his brow furrowing in confusion. Perfect. Let him focus on you. Let him take the bait.

Sunoo is closer now, creeping along the treeline like a shadow. His footsteps are almost silent, his movements fluid and precise. He’s patient, careful. Waiting for the right moment.

Behind you, you sense Jungwon shift slightly, adjusting his stance. You know he’s seen Sunoo too. His hands hover near the discarded rifle on the ground, his body taut like a coiled spring, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

But it’s Jay’s absence that nags at the back of your mind. Where is he? He should have circled around by now, taken position. The fact that he hasn’t reappeared yet only heightens the tension coiling in your chest.

“Let her go,” the man demands, his voice harder now. “We’re done playing games.”

Games? You almost laugh at that. This isn’t a game. This is survival. Still, you keep your tone even, your grip steady. You tilt your head, letting a slow smirk curl at the corners of your mouth. “It’s kind of fun though, isn’t it?” you mock, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “This little game.”

Sunoo’s almost there now. Just a few more steps. He’s inching closer, creeping along the treeline with the precision of someone who knows how to stay invisible. His hands flex at his sides, ready to act.

And then—

The sharp crack of a branch echoes through the air like a gunshot. The noise is deafening in the tense silence, slicing through the moment like a blade. Your heart lurches into your throat as the man with the rifle reacts instantly, swinging his weapon toward the sound, his finger tightening on the trigger.

“Sunoo—now!” you shout, your voice breaking through the moment of standstill.

Bang.

A singular gunshot rings out.

part 2 - warmth | masterlist | part 4 - ?

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: *laughs menacingly* i'll shout out the person who guesses the title of the next part first when i post it HAHAHA also lowkey had a breakdown writing this part because of the whole sequence at the back. it was so challenging trying to portray her anxiety and levelheadedness at the same time.

perm taglist. @m1kkso @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @catlicense @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle @classicroyalty @dearsjaeyun @ikeucakeu @sammie217 @m1kkso @tinycatharsis @parkjjongswifey @dcllsinna @no1likeneo

taglist open. 1/2 @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @strawberryhotlips @baedreamverse @bamguetismee @flwwon

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heartsriki · 12 hours ago

Text

WHEN GOSSIP MEETS LOVE ⌇ 함께

pairing ᝰ sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. Jake (as jaeyun) & Riki | word count: 6.6k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ office romance, boss! sunghoon, fluff, tiny angst, make-outs, getting drunk, isolation, passing out, reader is blunt, sunghoon is arrogant at times.

synopsis — after being saved by Sunghoon on your first week of the job, you have had a blatant crush on him to the point the whole office knows. Later he learned of your interest, usually he wouldn’t care but why wont you make a move?

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊so this turned out way longer than expected… PLEASE READ THE BONUS ITS SO CUTE— Also I love me a semi arrogant man who gets put in his place 👅

Today was supposed to be just another day at the office. The same mind-numbing tasks, the same stale air, the same routine. The only thing that ever really changed around here was the gossip, and honestly, you kind of lived for it.

As you strolled down the hallway with a stack of papers in hand, you noticed your coworkers gathered in a huddle, whispering excitedly. Curiosity piqued, and you set the papers down on a nearby desk and wandered over.

“What’s going on?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

The group turned to you, immediately shushing you before gesturing toward the glass-walled conference room. “Look,” one of them whispered, pointing.

You followed their gaze to the meeting in progress—specifically, to the group of men seated at the table. Raising a brow, you asked, “So… we’re just staring at men now?”

One of the girls grinned, barely able to contain her excitement. “Not just men. They just hired Mr. Kim Sunoo. Isn’t he dreamy? He’s totally my type.”

Another chimed in, dramatically clutching her chest. “What I wouldn’t give to get a piece of Mr. Lee. Ugh, it’s unfair how perfect he is.”

You stood there, unimpressed, letting your eyes wander to the man sitting at the end of the table.

“What about you, Y/N?” one of them asked, nudging you with her elbow. “Anyone in there catch your eye?”

Before you could answer, a sharp cough sounded behind you, making the entire group freeze.

“Do you ladies have no shame?” Jaeyun drawled, raising an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee.

“Jesus, Mr. Sim, would it kill you to mind your own business?” one of the girls snapped, rolling her eyes.

Jaeyun chuckled. “And miss out on this? Never. Besides, everyone knows who Y/N’s been crushing on.”

You immediately stiffened, while the other two girls exchanged looks. Their eyes darted to where you were staring—at him.

“Mr. Park?”

“No way! He’s such an asshole.”

“You could do so much better.”

Their words blurred into background noise as you kept your gaze locked on Park Sunghoon, your so-called “crush.” But they didn’t get it. They couldn’t possibly understand. To them, he was cold and aloof—practically a robot. But to you? He was… interesting.

You didn’t always feel that way. When you started at the company a year ago, you weren’t interested in men—or dating at all. You were laser-focused on your career, and determined to climb the corporate ladder. Then you met him.

It all started your first week on the job. The office wasn’t the soul-crushing nightmare you’d seen in movies. Your little corner office was cozy, and your workload was manageable. Things were going smoothly—until they weren’t.

Some of the senior employees, jealous of your early success, had sabotaged your presentation for an important meeting. As you stood in front of the board fumbling through the slides, your confidence crumbled. Your hands shook, your throat felt dry, and your face burned with humiliation. Then, out of nowhere, he walked in.

Park Sunghoon strode up to your computer with an air of calm authority, plugging in a USB without a word. The correct presentation appeared on the screen, and you blinked in disbelief.

The head of the board narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Park, care to explain your tardiness?”

“I apologize,” Sunghoon said smoothly. “But I caught some employees tampering with Ms. Y/N’s presentation. I thought it necessary to intervene.”

The board members exchanged glances before nodding, motioning for you to continue. Your real presentation went off without a hitch, earning praise from the directors. But all you could think about was the man who had saved you from disaster.

After the meeting, you waited outside the conference room, nervously clutching your notes. As soon as Sunghoon stepped out, you followed him, finally mustering the courage to tap him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Park?”

He turned, his expression blank but expectant. “Yes?”

“I just… wanted to thank you for what you did back there,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

His reply was cold and clipped. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I don’t tolerate workplace sabotage. Don’t expect me to save you again.”

Then he walked away, leaving you speechless.

A normal person might’ve been offended. Maybe even angry. But you? You were utterly smitten. How many men these days are that serious and passionate about their work? And let’s be honest—how many of them looked like that?

From that moment on, Park Sunghoon was your ideal man: hardworking, principled, and impossibly handsome. Sure, the whole office thought you were crazy for crushing on him, but they didn’t see what you see.

And as you stood there, watching him from across the room, you couldn’t help but wonder what he else he had underneath that surface.

A week after that little encounter with your coworkers, fate seemed to step in when you were assigned to lead a project—with none other than Mr. Park as your supervisor. Coincidence? You didn’t think so.

Now, as you sat in his office, he was going on about the plans and blueprints for the project. But you? You weren’t paying much attention. Your chin rested on your hands as you stared at him, absolutely transfixed.

“The peak must be at—Ms. Y/N, are you even listening?”

You blinked, snapping out of your trance. “Of course I am,” you replied with a bright, innocent smile.

He hummed, unconvinced. “Alright, then. How do you feel about placing it on Downtown Avenue?”

You nodded immediately. “Sounds great.”

His sharp gaze bore into you as he placed his pen down. “Interesting answer,” he mused, leaning forward until your faces were so close they nearly touched. “I never mentioned Downtown Avenue.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly leaned back in your chair, flustered. Heat rose to your cheeks as you scrambled to regain composure. “I—I’m sorry, Mr. Park. Please continue. I’m listening now.”

He didn’t look convinced but leaned back into his chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “Alright.”

For all his calm professionalism, Sunghoon couldn’t quite figure you out. Sure, you were talented—he couldn’t deny that. But you were also incredibly dishonest, something he’d picked up on a month ago.

From the moment you first met, he could feel your gaze on him, as if you had a personal vendetta. He figured you hated him for how blunt he’d been during that initial meeting. But as time passed, he realized it was the exact opposite.

The revelation had come during a lunch break with the other department heads.

“What about you, Mr. Park?” one of them asked, smirking. “Is there a special lady waiting for you at home?”

Sunghoon raised a brow, finishing a bite of his food before setting his utensils down. “No, I live alone.”

The man hummed, and the others chuckled knowingly. Then, one of them leaned forward. “What about Ms. Y/N?”

At that, Sunghoon froze. “Excuse me?” he asked, voice cold.

The man chuckled nervously, straightening up. “Well, everyone knows how much she’s into you. Why don’t you give her a chance?”

The words threw Sunghoon off completely. “How much she’s into me?” he repeated, utterly confused. “Why would she be?”

For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon felt genuinely flustered. The idea that you might like him had never crossed his mind. And once the seed was planted, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

His first instinct was to let you down easy. He’d been pursued before and thought it best to nip things in the bud. But when it came to you, things didn’t go as planned. Every time he tried to confront you, the words just wouldn’t come out.

In his frustration, he turned to Jaeyun, the office gossip king.

“Mr. Sim,” Sunghoon began, his voice strained. “Just tell me already.”

Jaeyun turned away, arms crossed. “I’m not spilling Y/N’s secrets.”

Sunghoon’s patience was wearing thin. “I’ll give you my year-end bonus.”

Jaeyun’s head whipped around, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Deal. Yes, she’s interested in you, but not enough to ask you out.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘not enough’? Are you saying I’m not worth asking out?”

Jaeyun held his hands up defensively. “No, no, she’s just focused on her career right now. Don’t take it personally.”

But Sunghoon did take it personally. The idea of someone liking him and not acting on it? It didn’t sit well with him. His pride was bruised.

From then on, he started coaxing you, trying to provoke you into asking him out. At office dinners, he’d sit near you, only for you to switch tables. In meetings, you avoided eye contact as if it were a matter of life and death. It was infuriating.

And now, as he explained the project, you sat across from him, staring at him like he was the center of your universe. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ms. Y/N,” he said abruptly.

“Hm?” you hummed, snapping back to attention.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes scrutinizing you. “Have you heard the latest office gossip?”

You tilted your head, confused. “I don’t think so, sir. But what does that—”

“I heard the women in the office are all over our new hire, Mr. Kim,” he interrupted. “Are you one of them?”

Your brow furrowed, suspicious of his sudden interest. “Well, I haven’t had the chance to speak to Mr. Kim yet, so—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he groaned, rubbing his temples. “I know you’re interested in me.”

Your eyes widened at his bluntness, but instead of denying it, you relaxed. “Yes, that’s right.”

His jaw tightened. “Then why haven’t you said anything? You lack initiative—”

You cut him off, staring at him dead in the eye. “Are you interested in me, Mr. Park?”

The question caught him off guard. His ears turned red as he replied, “No, I’m not.”

“Then why would I ask you out?” you shot back, your tone calm and collected.

He was stunned into silence. Since when did you have the upper hand in this conversation?

“Because it would allow you to get over me quicker,” he said, straightening his tie.

You stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, his pride wounded.

“You think too highly of yourself, Mr. Park,” you said, standing up. “Did you think I’d beg for you? My work is more important than any man—even you.”

With that, you turned and walked out of his office, leaving him frozen in place.

For the first time, Park Sunghoon felt like he’d underestimated someone. But one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let you off that easily.

In the days following your conversation with Sunghoon, you noticed a subtle shift in his behavior. The once-distant supervisor now seemed to find reasons to linger near your workspace, his presence a constant, albeit silent, companion. It was almost endearing, watching him struggle with the unfamiliar territory of being put in his place.

Today, his strategy appeared to involve hovering nearby, perhaps hoping you’d initiate a conversation. His restlessness was overwhelming. Should he apologize? But that would require him to make the first move, a notion that likely clashed with his pride.

Seeking guidance, Sunghoon found himself seated across from Jaeyun at an upscale restaurant—a setting procured through the promise of an expensive dinner. Jaeyun, the holder of all office gossip, knew how to drive a bargain.

“Alright, talk. Has she mentioned anything?” Sunghoon inquired, his impatience barely concealed.

Jaeyun took a deliberate sip of his wine before responding. “Nope, not a word.”

Sunghoon’s frustration was evident. “Nothing? Are you sure?”

Jaeyun nodded, his gaze drifting to the gorgeous night view outside. “I swear. I mean, she’s been busy lately. Extremely busy.”

Sunghoon’s curiosity was piqued. “Explain, Mr. Sim.”

“Please call me Jaeyun, we’re not at work.” Jaeyun said.

Sunghoon gulped never being informal before. “Okay…. Jaeyun— please elaborate.”

Setting his utensils down, Jaeyun sighed. “Well, besides the project you two are working on, she also has financial responsibilities concerning her family, especially her younger brother.”

Sunghoon listened intently.

“She’s been working overtime to gather extra funds for his tuition. I heard he’s exceptionally talented in the entertainment field, but their family isn’t wealthy enough to cover the expenses.”

Sunghoon absorbed the information, No he didn’t understand. Sunghoon has been fortunate his whole life but he was open to learning. He sat there contemplating his next move.

Jaeyun’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What’s all this for anyway? Do you like her?”

Sunghoon scoffed. “Why would you think that?”

Jaeyun smirked. “Who goes this far to reject a woman?”

Sunghoon pondered the remark. Perhaps you had made more of an impression on him than he cared to admit. Interest? Maybe.

“Okay, how should I approach this? What does she like? Purses? Jewelry?”

Jaeyun chuckled. “Wait, you’re serious? Oh man, you really have no idea…”

Sunghoon remained silent, a faint blush coloring his ears and face.

“Just be normal, Show her you care.” Jaeyun observed Sunghoon’s puzzled expression. “If you really need to buy her something, get her some food. She enjoys a good meal.”

Now that was something Sunghoon could manage. If he was going to reach out to you, a thoughtful gesture like sharing a meal might be the perfect starting point.

Sunghoon wanted to do something nice for you. A nice thought quickly turned into an overbearing gesture.

One day, you found a paper bag in your office. Inside were sweets from the bakery just a few minutes away from the building. Even though they weren’t your favorite, you appreciated the gesture and ate them. Sunghoon saw you smile through your office blinds a safe distance away and felt happy. He quickly looked around to make sure no one noticed and then walked away.

After that, he started leaving more and more food in your office. It became overwhelming. Today, you walked in and saw so much food that it startled you. You had figured out it was Sunghoon; he wasn’t very sneaky, especially after you caught him leaving your office last week.

This was too much. How could you eat all this? You sighed, closed your office door, and walked to Sunghoon’s office. You knocked.

“Come in,” he said.

You entered, giving him a sharp look. He stood up, adjusting his suit.

“Ms. Y/N?” he asked, looking confused.

“Mr. Park, how much longer are you going to leave all that food in my office?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

You crossed your arms. “Did you really think I could eat all that in one sitting?”

He gulped, running a hand through his hair.

“And do you even know what foods I like? What if I was allergic to some of them?”

He scoffed walking over to you slowly. “What do you like then? What are you allergic to?” He was now very close.

“Can’t hate a man you haven’t given a chance, don’t you think?”

Your face turned red. You were stunned by his bluntness. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

You tried to keep your composure. “I don’t have plans, but—”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you after work then.”

You didn’t believe him at first. You’ve met many arrogant men who talk big, so you assumed he was the same.

After a seemingly long task, you finally finished your job, clocking out. You exited the building and saw him leaning on his car, arms crossed with his eyebrows furrowed like always. When he saw you, his eyes softened. He gave you a small smile and opened the passenger door.

This was new, but you went along, got in the car, and he closed the door behind you. You didn’t see it but, He checked his hair in his phone’s reflection before getting in.

As he drove, you admired the city view. The lights of the night never got old to you. But sooner than later curiosity got the better of you. “Where are we going?”

He glanced at you through the mirror before focusing back on the road. “Dinner at ‘The Villa.’”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious? That place is expensive and fancy.”

He nodded. “I thought you’d enjoy it.”

You sighed. You could see he was trying, but fancy restaurants weren’t your thing. An idea popped into your head. “Turn here Mr. Park, I know a place we can go.”

He looked at you, puzzled, but followed your directions. You guided him to a small restaurant. As you both got out, he seemed disappointed when you didn’t let him open the door for you but brushed it off.

He looked around, not seeing any fancy places. “Is this it? A grill?”

You turned to him with the prettiest smile he’d ever seen on you. “Yup! Come on.” You reached out your hand.

Usually, he wouldn’t choose a place like this, but with a smile like that, he’d follow you anywhere. He took your hand, and you both went inside.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and lively. The smell of grilled food filled the air. You found a table, and he awkwardly sat down, clearly out of his element.

A server came by, placing a small grill in the center of your table and bringing plates of raw meat and vegetables. Sunghoon looked confused.

You giggled. “It’s a DIY grill. We cook our own food here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We… cook?”

You nodded, picking up a piece of meat with the tongs and placing it on the grill. It sizzled, and the aroma was mouth-watering.

He watched you, then hesitantly picked up the tongs. He tried to mimic your actions but fumbled, almost dropping the meat.

You laughed, reaching over to guide his hand. “Like this.”

As the evening went on, you both cooked, ate, and talked. Sunghoon shared stories about his upbringing, and you told him about your family. He was clumsy with the grill, burning some pieces and undercooking others, but you found it endearing.

At one point, he tried to flip a piece of meat and it flew off the grill, landing on the table. He looked mortified, but you burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said, chuckling. “I’m not used to this.”

You smiled. “It’s okay. It’s fun.”

By the end of the night, the initial awkwardness had faded.

After a delightful dinner at the grill, you and Sunghoon stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The city lights twinkled in the distance, casting a soft glow over the streets. As you walked side by side, you noticed a small park nearby, its swings gently swaying in the breeze.

“How about a walk in the park?” you suggested, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Sunghoon glanced at the swings, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “I haven’t been on a swing in years,” he admitted, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

“Well, tonight’s the perfect night to revisit childhood memories,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

With a resigned smile, he agreed, “Alright, lead the way.”

You both approached the swings, and you took a seat on one, motioning for him to join you. He hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you, his posture stiff and unsure.

“Just relax,” you encouraged, giving him a gentle push. “I got you.”

As the swing moved, Sunghoon’s expression softened, and a genuine smile appeared on his face. He began to swing higher, his laughter blending with the night air.

“See? It’s fun,” you said, your voice filled with joy.

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “No, you’re the one making it fun Ms, Y/N.”

You both continued to swing, the world around you fading away. The simple act of swinging together brought a sense of closeness and comfort, a shared moment of happiness.

After a while, you slowed the swing and stood up. “Shall we continue our walk?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft.

As you walked through the park, you talked about everything and nothing—your dreams, your favorite books, the places you wanted to visit. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and with each step, you felt a deeper connection forming between you.

That night with Sunghoon felt like it was straight out of a dream—a memory you knew would replay in your mind over and over again. He wasn’t at all what you’d expected. Sure, he had an air of arrogance, and his confidence sometimes teetered on egotistical, but once you broke through that wall, he was entirely different. Genuine. Kind. Charming in a way that made you question how you’d ever misjudged him.

You’d never felt this kind of excitement in a long time, this sense of longing and hope for something more. A relationship. He hadn’t officially asked you out yet, but it felt inevitable. You’d already started imagining how it might all unfold.

But that was just wishful thinking.

The next day, as you walked into the office, you couldn’t ignore the way whispers followed you down the hallway. People stealing glances at you, hurriedly looking away when you caught their eye. At first, you brushed it off. Office gossip was nothing new. Maybe someone had spilled coffee on their boss again.

But the moment you saw your phone light up with notifications��hundreds of them—you realized you were the center of the latest spectacle.

It wasn’t just office chatter. It was everywhere. Tabloids, social media, magazines, blogs. Photos of you and Sunghoon—laughing together, standing too close, looking too comfortable. But that wasn’t the worst part. The headlines? They were brutal.

“Is Riki Nishimura’s Older Sister Using Park Sunghoon for Fame?”

“Dating Rumors Could Derail His Career!”

“How Will This Affect HER Younger Brother’s Future?”

Your stomach churned as you scrolled. At first, you laughed bitterly, brushing it off as ridiculous speculation. But then, you saw the headline about your brother. Your little brother, who had worked so hard to get where he was. Your heart sank.

If they wanted to drag your name through the mud, fine. But dragging your family into it? Threatening Riki’s career? That crossed a line.

You paced the floor of your office, wracking your brain for a solution. There was only one answer. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only way. You and Sunghoon… this thing between you—it couldn’t happen. Not if it meant jeopardizing your brother’s future.

The tears came slowly at first, then all at once as you slumped into your chair, burying your face in your hands. You hadn’t even realized how much you’d come to cherish what you began to have with Sunghoon until now, as you were being forced to let it go.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon had no idea what was happening. He was in his office, practically glowing, still riding the high from the time you spent together. He couldn’t wait to see you.

On his break, he searched for you. The lounge. The meeting room. Even your office. But you were nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, he turned to his co-worker—and now trusted friend—Jaeyun.

“Jaeyun, have you seen Y/N?” he asked, his tone casual, but his impatience obvious.

Jaeyun’s expression fell, pity flashing in his eyes. “Y/N? She… she put in for a two-week leave this morning. I figured you knew.”

Sunghoon’s heart sank. “What? Why? What happened?”

Jaeyun gave him a pointed look. “You haven’t seen the news, have you?”

Frowning, Sunghoon pulled out his phone, quickly typing in his name. The search results made his breath hitch. Article after article, photos, speculation, your name tied to his, your family dragged into the chaos.

Then he saw the headline about your brother. His grip on the phone tightened. He knew what you were thinking. Knew why you’d disappeared. And there was no way he was going to let this spiral any further.

Without a second thought, he called your number. Once. Twice. Three times. Each attempt went to voicemail.

Panic bubbled in his chest. He couldn’t let you do this—not alone, not to yourself, not to your relationship.

He barked an order to his assistant to start taking down the articles, to figure out who was behind this mess. But first, he needed to find you.

And when he did, he wasn’t going to let you push him away.

The days felt endless as you holed up in your apartment, your only companions being guilt and loneliness. It had been a week since you requested a two-week leave, and in that time, you hadn’t dared step foot outside. The weight of the news, the whispers, and the consequences of your choices pressed down on you like a heavy blanket.

The day you left the office, you called Riki, your voice trembling as you asked if he was okay. He reassured you that everything was fine—for now. His management had advised him to lay low until the rumors blew over. He didn’t sound angry, but that almost made it worse. You felt like you’d dragged him into your mess, and the guilt ate away at you.

Since then, you’d spent most of your time thinking about Sunghoon. Replaying the moments you’d shared, wondering how he felt, and most of all, worrying about what you’d say to him when you eventually faced him again. Did he care that much? Or had this all been one-sided? These questions swirled in your mind endlessly as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Desperate to drown out your thoughts, you remembered the new bar that had recently opened near your apartment. Without much thought, you dragged yourself out of bed, threw on some clothes, and headed out.

The bar was dimly lit, buzzing with quiet conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. You didn’t waste any time. One drink turned into two, then three, then four. You lost count after that, the haze of alcohol dulling your thoughts until you didn’t feel much of anything. Eventually, your body gave in, and you slumped over, unconscious.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was unraveling.

It had been a week since he last saw you, and the distance was driving him insane. Every attempt to find you ended in failure. He didn’t know where you lived, your favorite places, or even how to contact your family. It frustrated him to no end, and it hurt even more to think that you might be avoiding him.

Every evening, he found himself at the small grill you both went to, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Tonight was no different. He stood outside the familiar spot, his hands shoved into his coat pockets as he tried to stave off the cold.

The buzz of his phone broke through his thoughts, and his heart leapt when he saw your name on the screen. He fumbled to answer, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Y/N? Where are you—”

“Are you friends with the owner of this phone?” a deep, unfamiliar voice interrupted.

Sunghoon blinked, pulling the phone away to confirm it was your number on the display. Confusion settled in. “Uh, yeah? Who is this? Why do you have her phone?”

“No worries,” the man replied. “She’s passed out in my bar. I found her phone unlocked and figured I’d call someone. Can you come pick her up?”

Sunghoon’s heart dropped. “Where is she?”

The man gave him the location, and Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. He bolted to his car and sped through the city, his mind racing with questions. Were you okay? Why were you at a bar alone this late?

When he arrived, he barely parked the car before running inside. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. Slumped over the bar, your head resting on your arms, you looked so vulnerable. Relief and worry collided in his chest as he approached you.

“You’re Hoon, right?” the bartender asked, eyeing him curiously.

Sunghoon blinked in confusion before realizing the name was probably how you saved his contact. He smiled faintly, nodding. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The bartender nodded and stepped away, leaving Sunghoon to focus on you. His chest tightened when he saw how puffy your eyes were, evidence of the tears you’d cried before drinking yourself into this state.

He crouched beside you, placing a gentle hand on your back. “Y/N… can you walk?”

Your eyes fluttered open, blurry and unfocused as they locked with his. For a moment, you looked like you were seeing a ghost.

“Hoon?” you slurred softly, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He sighed in relief. “Yeah, it’s me. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

But when you didn’t move, he frowned. You were too out of it to help him. He checked your phone, hoping for some clue about where to take you, but it was locked.

He hesitated. Taking you to his place didn’t feel right, but with no other options and the clock striking midnight, he made a decision.

“You’ll understand, right?” he murmured to himself, draping his coat over your shoulders. He carefully helped you to your feet, guiding you out of the bar and into his car.

The drive to his penthouse was quiet, save for your soft breathing. He couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at you, the city lights illuminating your face in a way that made his chest ache. Even like this, you were beautiful.

When they arrived, getting you upstairs was a challenge. You slumped against him, muttering incoherently and occasionally whining about how tired you were. By the time he managed to unlock his door and get you inside, he was exhausted.

He guided you to his bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed. As he adjusted his coat on your shoulders, he heard you mumble something. When he turned back, his face turned bright red.

“Why is it so hot?” you grumbled, fumbling with the buttons of your shirt.

“Woah, hey—don’t do that!” he yelped, grabbing your hands to stop you. “Just… just wait, I’ll turn on the AC!”

He backed away, keeping a wary eye on you as he adjusted the thermostat. When he returned, he brought a glass of water, helping you sit up to drink. “There, that’s better, hm?”

You sighed, lying back down with a soft hum of approval.

Sunghoon turned to leave, planning to sleep on the couch, but you grabbed his wrist, your eyes wide and pleading. “Hoon… stay. Please?”

His heart clenched. How could he ever say no to you?

“Alright,” he whispered, circling the bed and lying down on the other side, facing the ceiling. He felt awkward, unsure of what to do, but within moments, you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest.

He froze, his heart pounding as he felt your steady breaths against him. Slowly, he relaxed, his hand coming up to stroke your hair.

“Goodnight,” he murmured softly, his eyes fluttering shut as sleep finally claimed him.

The glow of the sun streamed through the curtains, forcing you to stir awake. The dull throbbing in your head hit as soon as you sat up, and you winced, bringing a hand to your temple.

Blinking, you took in your surroundings. The room was unfamiliar—sleek, modern, and definitely not your own. Panic began to rise in your chest as you tried to piece together the events of the previous night. You remembered the bar, the drinks, and then… nothing.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at yourself, relieved to find you were still in your clothes. But then you spotted the figure lying beside you, their back turned to you.

Oh no.

You gasped, clutching the pillow you’d been sleeping on, and without thinking, you began smacking the man’s back with it in a panic. “Who are you?! What is this?! Did we—?!”

The man bolted awake, flinching and shielding himself with his arms. “Hey! Hey! Stop!” he shouted, scrambling backward until he fell off the bed with a loud thud.

You froze mid-swing, the familiar voice cutting through your panic. Slowly, you leaned over the edge of the bed, clutching the pillow tightly.

“Sunghoon?” you whispered, your eyes wide.

He was sprawled on the floor, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. His legs were awkwardly bent in the air, and he looked up at you with an awkward, sheepish smile. “Uh, hi.”

You let out a deep breath, sitting back on the bed. “Oh my god,” you muttered, dragging your hands down your face.

Sunghoon quickly got up, brushing himself off as he looked at you with a mix of concern and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I should’ve explained sooner. We didn’t… y’know, do anything.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced up at him. “Are you sure?”

His ears turned bright pink as he nodded fervently. “Yes! I swear. You passed out at the bar, and I didn’t know where you lived, so I brought you here. That’s it, I promise.”

You relaxed slightly, but the tension in the room remained heavy. The silence that followed was suffocating, neither of you knowing what to say.

Finally, you broke it, your voice trembling. “Sunghoon… our relationship has to end here.”

His head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What? Why?”

You avoided his gaze, staring at the sheets instead. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news. They’re dragging my brother into this, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t risk his career for my selfish desires.”

“Y/N—“

“What we had was nice,” you interrupted, your voice cracking slightly. “But it’s better for everyone if we stop seeing each other.”

He stepped closer, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You should check the tabloids again.”

You froze, your heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

Sunghoon grabbed his phone from the nightstand, quickly pulling up the articles before handing it to you. You hesitated, but as you scrolled, your breath caught.

The scandal was gone. There were no articles tearing you apart, no headlines about your brother being caught up in rumors. Instead, there were positive comments, even a few articles praising the supposed romance.

“How… how did this happen?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon sighed softly, sitting down beside you. His voice was gentle but firm. “I made it happen. I wasn’t going to let them ruin your life, or your brother’s, over something like this.”

You turned to look at him, his face close to yours. His expression was so sincere, so full of quiet determination, that it made your chest ache.

“Why would you do that?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Because I care about you,” he said simply. “And I’m not giving up on us that easily.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. Your eyes locked, and in that moment, all the fear, doubt, and guilt melted away.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing his tentatively. Sunghoon froze for a split second before responding, his hand cupping your cheek as he deepened the kiss. It was soft and slow at first, filled with all the emotions neither of you had been able to express.

But soon, the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate, as if you were both trying to make up for all the lost time and the moments you almost didn’t have. His other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, while your fingers tangled in his hair.

Soft sighs fell from the both of you as he laid you back on the bed. His hand exploring your body softly and slowly.

You took the chance to snake your hands below his shirt, scratching his back slightly making him shutter against you.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. “Thank you.”

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Anything for you.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Hoon, get up,” you said softly, glancing down at Sunghoon, who was sprawled across your chest like he had no intention of moving.

“Mm,” he hummed lazily, burying his face into you as if that would make you forget about work entirely.

You let out a soft laugh, stroking his hair absentmindedly. The moment your fingers ran through his dark locks, you realized you’d made a mistake—he let out a content sigh and snuggled in closer, clearly sinking even deeper into his sleepy state.

“We have to go to work,” you said, this time playfully, though your hands still gently tangled in his hair.

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled, his pout evident even though his face was tucked against you. God, he was so cute.

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “Well, we have responsibilities we can’t ignore, so you need to get up, Hoon.”

When he didn’t respond, you rolled your eyes, deciding to switch tactics. “If you get up, I’ll give you a reward,” you said, your tone light but teasing.

That did it. His head immediately shot up, his sleepy eyes now wide with interest. “What kind of reward?” he asked, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

You smirked, leaning back slightly as his head rested on your chest, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “You’ll find out if you get up,” you teased, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not entirely convinced. “That’s suspicious,” he murmured, though the corner of his lips quirked into a small smile. “Is it worth it?”

“More than worth it,” you said confidently, trying to stifle a laugh. “But you’re never going to know if you keep laying there.”

He groaned dramatically, still clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the bed. “You’re not making this easy, you know.”

“Well, you’re the one being stubborn,” you replied, gently pushing at his shoulder, though he didn’t budge.

Then, in one swift motion, he propped himself up on his elbows, his face dangerously close to yours. “Okay,” he said, his voice low and playful. “I’m up. Where’s my reward?”

Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden proximity, his teasing grin making your heart race. “Patience,” you said, trying to keep your composure. “You’re not fully up yet. Get ready for work first.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It’s implied,” you countered, laughing softly as you tried to push him off the bed.

But instead of moving, Sunghoon leaned even closer, his warm breath fanning over your cheeks. “I think I deserve at least a preview,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours ever so slightly.

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to glare at him, but it was impossible when his mischievous grin was so disarming. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, but before you could say anything else, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a soft but lingering kiss.

It started playful, his lips tugging into a smile against yours, but quickly turned deeper, his hand cupping the side of your face as he kissed you with a tenderness that made your heart skip. He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Best reward ever.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathless. “Now get up, Hoon. Or that'll be the last one you'll ever get.”

He laughed, finally pulling himself out of bed. “Fine, fine. You’re the boss in this house.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your cheeks warm as you touched your lips. Sunghoon always had a way of turning your mornings into something unforgettable.