#last life apocalypse au

[alienssstufff]

LAST LIFE APOCALYPSE AU DESIGNS

PROLOGUE: [PART 0] [PART 1 - lineup] [PART 2] [PART 3]

[notes. Lots of them. Undercut]

For an au that’s existed for ~2 years, here are the official designs of 16/18 of the main cast!

[note: Scar and Joel will have their separate post. They are m.i.a for a reason]

Focus this time was less in my usual figurative and more realistic when it came to the clothing (as if live action) — carefully considering what practical things and uses each person would have at the start of the apocalypse

At the same time using my artstyle the best I can to make otherwise mundane clothes interesting through how it is worn by each person, what silhouette and implications does it evoke.

[xamnade]

I forgot to post tjis😭 af attack for @alienssstufff

[shirahoshiumi]

Unofficial art attack on @alienssstufff Last life apocalypse AU!

Hearts design is so cool I think im gonna explode

[quirkle2]

more zombie au :] (1.2k words)

The odor of rot has joined the damp growth of life from pots. Even if some things die off without human aid, there are always stronger elements that thrive in their absence.

The aisles are overgrown. Ritsu brushes past the vines as gently as he can, wooden floor groaning under his worn soles. There’s a gap of empty space in the middle of each aisle that he slots through, eyes roaming the shelves of largely useless things. Stronger stems snag onto his backpack and he tugs distractedly while perusing the labeled pots along the tables.

The barn is quaint, and Ritsu thinks he would love to stay. Moss eats at the boards under his feet and bugs swarm around him in the hot air incessantly, but it’s peaceful and there’s a constant sprinkle of sound to his ears that have grown so used to silence. Whoever owned this place beforehand put up a few wind chimes indoors—they must’ve always had the front entrance open for customers.

It’s a quiet little homemade garden center, or something similar, on the side of the highway. It’s an overgrown property with something dead in the backyard that Ritsu refuses to acknowledge or let Shigeo near. The shingles and boards in the roof have been replaced with polyethylene sheets—a barn-turned-greenhouse, uprooted from the hay and cattle it likely used to house and settled back into the Earth to be a paradise for plants.

There’s a large branch hanging through a hole poked into the plastic overhead. It sways with the wind and the chimes that follow, and Ritsu whistles with the leadless melody and gives it a direction while he studies old seed packets.

They didn’t stop here for any particular reason—a garden center doesn’t have much for apocalypse survivors, but Shigeo has always liked overgrown things. He’d always enjoyed taking care of their mother’s plants back home, and then Reigen’s at the office. His brother likes the humidity of greenhouses and the smell of soil and dirt and must.

He sees the top of Shigeo’s head over the aisles, across the barn. He walks past a shovel hanging on the wall and yelps out a grunt when it clangs to the floor behind him. Ritsu shakes his head and smiles, running his fingers along faded price tags.

The feeling of greenhouses has always had this… wet fullness, to Ritsu.

When he breathes in it’s like he can taste the life that breathes out and it feels like a conversation, a question and an answer, both of which he’s not sure how to articulate. The leaves wave to him and he waves back, the once-active sprinklers pepper his skin with dots, with compliments, with proclamations they are eager to share. The vines weave between fencing just to reach him, just to talk.

He understands why Shigeo likes it, and why he’d always asked to accompany their mother on trips to get new seeds. Ritsu hadn’t really understood, then, how pretty it could be, how full it could feel.

Shigeo had always been right about loving the little things. Ritsu wishes he’d seen that sooner.

His brother ambles down the aisle ahead of him and he listens to the quiet patter of his sloppy footwork, moving around a table of seed trays. His whistles carry across the barn, sort of aimless in their own right instead of leading the wind and the chimes somewhere worthwhile, but the sounds soak into the overhead plastic nicely, so he keeps going.

He pulls back a layering of vines and leaves to scan the contents of another shelf, and then he notices Shigeo stop in his peripherals. His dirty shoes stay planted in the corner of his vision, leaves burying the toes, and Ritsu looks away from the products.

He means to say something, to ask him what’s up even if saying things to Shigeo very rarely results in productivity, but he stops when he realizes his brother’s head is… tilted.

He’s looking at him with as much inquisitiveness as his dulled down awareness can muster, pale eyes flickering across Ritsu’s face like he’s working out some puzzle. He instinctively stops whistling, brain lagging behind on this new info of this new behavior, and the sound fizzles out into a little huff of air that leaves the greenhouse feeling oddly empty.

Shigeo studies him for a moment longer, blinking slowly, and then he straightens his head out as Ritsu stares back. His brother’s gaze lingers there on his mouth, like he’s still confused, like he still expects something to happen.

Ritsu blinks once, twice. The wind chimes call as wind pokes at his greasy spikes, as it prods at the ends of his jacket and fills the silence with a different flavor of itself. The interest in the zombie’s eyes fades a little, gaze straying to the vines around them.

Very tentatively, Ritsu wets his lips and blows. The whistle grabs his brother’s attention immediately, and he’s suddenly tilting his head like a curious dog.

He can’t help the laugh that spills out and makes the whistle a mess of exhales. His shoulders shake a little and he hurries to keep the tune steady and consistent; a few seconds pass and Shigeo tilts his head the other way, exhausted eyes big and more alert than they’ve been in days.

Ritsu experiments, and ventures around with the sound—goes lower and higher and watches his brother twist his head back and forth like he’s trying to understand calculus. There’s something very innocent about it, about the look in his eyes that reminds him of when they were kids and their father would show them magic tricks.

It’s muted by the ever-present fog there in his pupils, but Ritsu thinks he sees a spark of that life in them, of that curiosity born from a mind that knows little. He gives him a simple sensation, a simple experience, and his brother is eating it all up like he’s four again, like he’s new and everything is colorful and unknown and big.

Ritsu watches Shigeo tilt his head back and forth, watches the rusty gears behind his window panes move. He changes tactics, because some sad part of him tells him to, and whistles Shigeo’s favorite song instead.

He remembers the name, but he doesn’t need the name because when he thinks of the tune he thinks of his brother, and that’s all that matters. It’s happy, because Shigeo likes happy music. It’s chipper and yet it meanders, like it’s willingly getting lost, like it’s wandering where it wants to and it’ll eventually find its roots again. It’s happy the whole time. The whole adventure.

Shigeo stops tilting his head, and the gears behind his eyes churn a little bit faster. His gaze clings to Ritsu’s and his brother makes actual eye contact, sinks his own being into Ritsu’s head when he’s least prepared for it. The recognition in his gaze has his soul souring.

He keeps whistling. He doesn’t want to stop, because Shigeo feels like Shigeo right now, and he doesn’t want that to stop.

His brother stares. Ritsu’s grief tints the music.

[adelaidedrubman]

my toxic oc/canon creator trait is only giving kids to the ships who would be objectively awful parents because it’s funny to see how they’ll fuck it up

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

fine line ── l. hs

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au, convenience store worker!reader || angst hehe, crack, eventual fluff

↳ ✎ᝰ 15.4k (gasp, she kept it under 20k????)

↳ contains ── so much bickering and banter, reader is kinda sassy and a lil crazy, heeseung is a lil weirdo at first, CRACK (this entire fic revolves around EXTRA HELL FIRE RAMEN PLS), angst, both heeseung & reader can't communicate their feelings & are stubborn as hell, tension tension tension! , deep conversations about life choices lol, cursing

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── IM ALIVE (barely) ! i survived a global expedition (one 12 hr flight) just to come back and face an apocalypse (i got a bug infection and a cold) but dragged myself out of my deathbed (my comfy bed) to finish editing this because i told yall i would and bc i felt bad ghosting everyone for a week LOL apologies (if anyone cares,,,pls tell me u do or i'll cry rn) anyways i hope yall enjoy this one,,,this one was fun to write, it felt very sitcom-y and was lowkey based off of backstreet rookie vibes (only bc it's set in a convenience store). i hope you all enjoy & pls let me know what you think :') thank u for the support & love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

It’s simple, really. 

Customer service voice on, a smile plastered on your face, greet the customer, scan the item, take their money, bag said item, throw in a half-hearted ‘Have a good night!’

And repeat. 

Well, most of the time. 

Occasionally, there’s the fun of kicking out a few drunk teenagers looking for a bathroom that you definitely don’t have (yes you do). But otherwise, this graveyard shift at your local corner convenience store? 

Total dream job. 

You get paid—as in actual, legit money—to sit behind a counter, scan snacks, and feast on your personal holy trinity of microwavable cheesy ramen, peach juice, and potato chips. What could possibly go wrong? 

At least, that’s how the manager sold it during your interview. And by interview, you mean the three-minute conversation that went something like: 

“Can you work nights?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool, you’re hired.” 

No background check, no follow-up questions, not even a glance at your resume. A broke college student with insomnia and schedule flexibility? You were the perfect candidate. 

And it’s not like you’re picky. You needed cash, and this seemed like a pretty solid deal. What can you say? College is expensive, and someone’s gotta fund your caffeine addiction and deeply specific (and yet completely necessary, you would argue) habit of playing at every single claw machine game you stumble across. 

So yeah. Easy work.

At least, that's what you thought.

Because on the night of your first shift, exactly at 1:09AM, the doorbell gives its friendly little ding, and in walks...something.

Someone?

Whatever it is, it's a walking shadow. Oversized hoodie. Baggy pants. A baseball cap shoved under the hood. A black face mask covering whatever’s left of his identity. You think it’s either a ninja, a celebrity in disguise, or—more likely—a vampire who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Joseon era (you’re leaning more towards vampire).

But more than the wild theories running around in your head, something else piques your curiosity.

Because unlike the other weirdos that usually shuffle in at these ungodly hours, this one moves with true purpose. He beelines straight to the ramen aisle, snags something off the top shelf (most likely the ultra-spicy soup one because, of course, you already have the shelves memorized), and then grabs a bottle of coffee milk from the cold drinks section without even so much as glancing at it.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Like he’s done this a thousand times before and is now on autopilot mode.

You watch, intrigued. And then—horrified.

Because who in the right mind pairs volcanic spicy ramen with coffee milk? Is that even legal?

You’re barely recovering from your own appalled thoughts before he’s already at the counter, placing his borderline apocalyptic snack combination on the counter in front of you with the same eerie precision he has.

You fail to keep your poker face on when you scan his items, your face scrunching up in disgust.

“Uh,” you shake it off, forcing yourself back to reality, “That’ll be—”

But before you can even finish your sentence, he’s already fishing out the exact amount—three crisp bills—out his back pocket and holds it out for you.

There’s a beat of silence.

You stare down at the money in his hand for a second too long, suddenly convinced this guy practices his convenience store interactions in the mirror or something.

When you don’t show any further signs of moving, he eventually gives up, placing the money on the counter with a quiet sigh, grabbing his ramen and coffee milk, and striding off to the self-service corner like he personally owns the place.

All of this. Without. A single. Thank you.

Wow. Okay. So tonight’s customer is potentially a vampire with a side gig as a professional jerk. Good to know.

You internally scoff at the entire interaction, but—unfortunately for you—you can’t look away. Because this guy? This walking shadow?

You’re weirdly intrigued. Like when you accidentally click on a pimple-popping video and immediately regret it, but still end up watching five more.

It’s a curse.

Out of the corner of your eye (because obviously you’re not staring, you’re just…hyper-aware of your surroundings), you watch him execute his ramen-and-coffee-milk routine with the precision of a man possessed.

Step one: Hot water in the ramen cup.

Step two: Ramen into the microwave.

Step three: Wait for exactly one beep before yanking the microwave door open with alarming speed, as if he's scared to even give the second beep the chance to ring.

Step four: Peel the lid back in slowly—so painfully slow you're about to march over there and do it yourself.

Step five: Insert the straw into the coffee milk—of course, perfectly right in the center. Bullseye.

Honestly? It's all kind of impressive. Horrifying, but impressive.

And, of course, just when you think you might finally look away, because out of sight, out of mind—he slides onto one of the bar stools by the window, right in your direct line of vision. The perfect spot for you to get a pristine view of his back, which, spoiler alert, is completely unhelpful in your personal mission in trying to see even a glimpse of what this guy looks like.

Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can make out his face in the reflection of the store window. Maybe. Just maybe—

Nope.

All you catch is a brief glimpse of his eyes—barely visible beneath his excessive hoodie and hat combination. Even his mask stays glued to his face and you wonder how he even plans on eating his outrageous meal.

But even so, you still can’t look away. What even is that color? And why can’t you look away?

Whatever. It’s just eyes. Totally normal. Everyone has them. Not noteworthy at all.

Except it is.

Because you catch yourself still squinting, hoping the glare of the fluorescent lighting against the window hides your not so subtle mission from him. You’re probably risking retinal damage at this point with how hard you’re trying to decode this guy’s entire identity from literally just his eyes.

You catch another short glimpse of his eyes as he shuffles in his seat and just as you’re trying to piece together why his eyes look oddly familiar—

He looks up.

His eyes catch yours in the glaring reflection of the store's windows, and you freeze.

Abort mission. Now.

You cough—loudly, dramatically—and your eyes immediately dart elsewhere, your hands shuffling on the discounted candy bars displayed on the counter top, pretending to look busy and silently praying he didn't catch you looking for too long.

When enough time passes by, you risk another quick glance back at him, to see he’s now digging into his ramen, head tucked so low you can’t even see his eyes anymore. He’s gone full turtle mode.

You lift a brow.

Weirdo.

A weirdo with an ego. Slurping and sipping away at his crime-against-humanity meal as if he owns the building.

Maybe he's mute. Or a people-hater. Or a cryptid who thrives on ramen and coffee milk instead of human interaction. Maybe I'm being pranked?

You shrug it off, because no matter how hard you try to figure him out, one thing is glaringly obvious: he does not want to be bothered.

And you're not sure if that makes him more intriguing or more annoying.

You’re in the clear. At least, you think you’re in the clear. 

After your first weird encounter with Mr. No-Name-No-Face—spicy ramen enthusiast and potential vampire—you’ve begrudgingly adjusted to his nightly visits. 

He shows up at 1:09AM like clockwork, grabs his neon red Extra Spicy Hellfire Ramen (yes, that’s the real brand name, and yes, your soul dies a little every time you even have to think about it), and parks himself in the window seat across from your counter like it’s a Michelin-star ramen bar—and not your humble convenience store with a health inspection rating of B+ (don’t ask). 

By night three, you’ve downgraded him from potential murderer to mildly annoying ramen connoisseur. 

By night four, you’ve decided he’s your own personal karma sent by the universe. 

It starts off with the door chime. You don’t even flinch. 1:09AM. Right on schedule. 

You don’t look up from the colorful juice pouches you’re restocking. You’re halfway through creating a perfectly symmetrical pyramid display—color-coded, of course—because, clearly, you’ve peaked as a human being. 

Behind you, footsteps head straight to the ramen aisle. And sure enough, you peek over your shoulder, and there he is: drowning in black hoodie layers, hood up, mask on, the patron saint of please don’t perceive me. Same old routine, same old—

Wait. 

He freezes, mid-reach for his usual ramen on the top shelf, his hand hovering in the air. And then, horrifyingly, he turns. 

And looks directly at you. 

Your face heats up—probably not as red as the hellfire ramen he was about to grab, but it’s close, you imagine. You find yourself clutching onto the random juice pouch in your hand as if it’s your lifeline before you clear your throat, “Uh—is something wrong?” 

He glances from you and back to the shelf in front of him, and for the first time in…ever, he speaks. 

Gasp. 

So we can cross mute off the list. 

“They’re out of my flavor,” he says. His voice is deep, which isn’t surprising to you, given he’s the literal human embodiment of the color black, but it’s also serious. So unnecessarily serious that you almost laugh. 

Almost. 

Because his tone isn’t just serious—it’s accusatory. As if you personally raided the ramen aisle and hid his favorite flavor for entertainment. 

Excuse me? 

Your mouth opens then closes, flopping like a fish that now deeply regrets every life choice. The fire rising in your chest is about two seconds away from erupting into a full-blown lecture on how supply chains work, but you keep it in, deciding getting fired on the fourth day probably doesn’t look good on your resume. 

Instead, you plaster on a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Uh..yeah, it looks like it,” you deadpan, inching closer to where he’s standing to investigate the shelf. 

Leaning up on your toes, you scan the shelf for any hidden Hellfire cups, hoping some miracle will save you from continuing this interaction. 

Nope. It’s empty alright. Emptier than your will to entertain his dramatics. 

“Tragic,” you glance back at him, strategically avoiding eye contact, and settle on offering a shrug. “There are plenty of other flavors. Maybe try…the regular spicy?” 

You grab the flavor below his usual one and hold it up as an olive branch, but he cuts you off with a tone that even convinces you that you’re deranged. 

“No.” 

You blink. 

“No?” 

“It has to be Extra Spicy Hellfire.” 

You blink again. 

You wait for the punchline.

It never comes. 

This man is dead serious. 

You’re standing in the middle of a fluorescent-lit ramen aisle, at your minimal wage night-shift job, at 1:12AM on a random Tuesday, and this guy is dead serious. 

And he’s staring at you like this is a life-or-death situation. And judging from the look in his eyes, it’s looking like you’re facing death. 

But then, you really notice his eyes. And for a split second—just a split second—you’re derailed from your rising anger. 

They’re brown. But not just any brown—the kind of brown that makes poets write bad metaphors. Cinnamon swirls. Autumn leaves. Possibly falling in love in a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

But then you blink again, hard, snapping yourself out of whatever ridiculous moment your sleep-deprived brain just conjured. This is not the time. You’re literally staring at, like, three inches of this guy’s face. 

And he’s a jerk. Get a grip, Y/N. 

“Uh, yeah,” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound professional through your disbelief. “Sorry. We probably put in our shipment request late. But I’m sure you won’t implode by going one night without it?” 

You tack on a small laugh and smile at the end of your sentence, hoping to lighten the mood. 

He does not smile back. 

Not even a flicker. 

Instead, he continues to stare at you like you just suggested he eat plain, untoasted bread for the rest of his life. 

You want to bury yourself into a hole. Maybe getting fired on the fourth day won’t be so bad afterall. 

“I’m sure the regular spicy one is just as good. What’s the worst that could happen?” you offer weakly when he makes no sign of saying anything, and you really hope this guy doesn’t explode in front of you—mainly because you’re not confident in your own ability to explain that situation to your manager. 

“I’m not risking it,” he finally deadpans. 

Your jaw drops slightly. 

“You’re not ris—” you hesitate, debating whether you want to ruin your night further. But you’ve come this far. “You’re being…serious?” 

The question lined with your clear judgement hangs in the air between you two, and no amount of fake customer service can mask the expression of disapproval on your face. 

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs, “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Oh, I understand,” you tilt your head, your annoyance slowly reaching a boiling point, throwing all professionalism out the window. All you wanted was to enjoy your juice-sorting in peace, not babysit this walking ramen manifesto. “I understand that you’re just picky.” 

At that, his eyes flash—sharp, unreadable. “I’m not picky.” 

“You won’t eat a perfectly fine ramen just because it’s not named after the ninth circle of hell.” 

Silence. 

He stares at you with the intensity of someone about to write a strongly worded online review. 

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he finally mutters, “Fine. I’ll take the mild one.” 

You blink at the flavor in your hand—the one that’s clearly labeled in giant, blazing-red, font: Regular Spicy. Then you look back at him. 

“You mean regular spicy.” 

“Right. Whatever. Same thing.” 

He grabs the ramen cup from your hand and stalks off to grab his usual coffee milk, leaving you stranded in the middle of the ramen aisle, questioning every life choice that brought you here. 

Before you’re about to mentally spiral, his voice cuts through the store. 

“Hello?” 

Oh. Right. Your job. 

You scramble back to behind the register, quickly moving your hands to ring him up and get him out of here as soon as possible. 

He hands you his three crisp bills, and before you hand him his glorified ramen and godforsaken coffee milk, you hesitate, pulling them back slightly. He freezes, his hands hanging in the air between you two. 

“You know,” you narrow your eyes as you look up at him, “some people would say thank you for the recommendation.” 

His brow arches—or at least, you think it does. It’s hard to completely tell under his stupid hat. Then he fires back—

“And some people wouldn’t forget to restock the ramen.” 

Your mouth falls open, your words failing you as he grabs his goods from your hands, heading to the self-serve station to continue his nightly noodle worship as if he didn’t just verbally body-slam you. 

Yeah. It’s going to be a long night. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic. 

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore? 

Between back-to-back choreo sessions, recording tracks at hours that shouldn’t legally exist, and navigating the emotional and physical minefield of constant shows, interviews, photoshoots—you name it—nothing about his life is consistent. 

However—

There are two things—two sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness. 

The first? 

Insomnia. 

Not by choice, of course. He doesn’t love being awake at 3AM, staring at his ceiling and waiting for sleep to take over. But it’s a loyal companion, like a stray cat that keeps showing up at your house no matter how hard you try to shoo it away. Heeeseung’s insomnia is always there for him, night after night, ensuring he gets exactly only four hours of sleep—with a side of existential dread. 

And the second? 

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk. 

Yes, it’s a weird combo. 

No, he doesn’t care. 

This unlikely pairing is Heeseung’s personal slice of heaven he can actually control and choose in a life otherwise ruled by the rest of the world. 

Every night, he drags himself to his favorite corner store, grabs his fiery ramen and sweet, creamy coffee milk, and plants himself in the window seat to enjoy his culinary masterpiece in peace. 

Then—and only then—can Heeseung catch a few hours of sleep, the spice-induced euphoria lulling himself into a temporary state of calm. 

Does he have a problem? Absolutely. 

Is he addicted? Without a doubt. 

Does he care? Not in the slightest. 

Because in a world that demands he change at the drop of a hat, this little routine of his is the one thing that stays consistent. 

Well, except for last night. 

Because last night, someone dared to disrupt the cosmic balance of his existence. Someone failed to restock his precious Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen. 

He had stared at the empty spot on the shelf, the betrayal hitting him like a personal attack. He went home last night only a quarter satisfied from the mild spicy ramen he had settled with. 

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the someone responsible. 

Now here he is, stepping into the corner store at 1:09AM, ready to make up for last night’s disappointment of an outcome. 

Heeseung steps into the brightly lit store, the familiar ding ringing behind him as he enters right on time. He continues his familiar route to the ramen aisle, but not before shooting a quick glance from below his hat toward the counter. 

Yup, there she is. 

You. 

The new graveyard shift employee. The one who dared to challenge his sacred ramen ritual and stared at him like he was a walking poor life choice. 

You’re here again. This is five nights in a row. Heeseung wonders if you 1) are insane, 2) have no life, or 3) are purely here just to spite him. 

But tonight, he’s prepared. His focus is razor-sharp, his mission clear: Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk. Nothing will get in the way tonight. 

Heeseung looks up, exhaling in relief when he spots the fiery red packaging of the Extra Spicy Hellfire sitting innocently on the shelf. There you are. 

He grabs the cup (with too much excitement that it should honestly embarrass him), cradling it like a long-lost love, before he makes his way to snag his coffee milk. 

Perfect combo. Perfect routine. Perfect night. 

Except—

Except, of course, you’re watching him. Again. 

He doesn’t even need to look up to know it. He can feel your judging eyes burning into the back of his head like you did the other night—like you’re seconds away from filing a report against his own taste buds. 

He doesn’t get it—what’s so strange about ramen and coffee milk? It’s not like he’s dipping the noodles in it. Why you’ve made it your personal mission to antagonize him, he has no idea, but it’s really throwing him off his ramen zen. 

Heeseung sighs to himself as he steps up to the counter, making sure you hear the sheer misery in this voice—because, of course, fate has cursed him with yet another encounter with you.

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and that same unimpressed, judgmental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What's right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spicy and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help,” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

By night six, you don’t know whether to pity the guy or stage an intervention.

The ding of the automatic doors announces his arrival, as usual, at exactly 1:09AM. You know it’s him—Ramen Guy. The guy who you’re convinced single-handedly continues to keep the Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen business float. 

You lean against the counter and subtly watch him make his usual pilgrimage to the ramen aisle, internally scoffing to yourself at the weird moment he picks up his ramen like it’s his newborn child.

He’s so weird. 

You wonder what kind of person he is outside this convenience store. Does he always make such objectively strange choices? Like, does he wear socks with sandals? Does he mix his cereal with orange juice instead of milk? 

Your haunting thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his usual unholy pair of snacks hitting the counter in front of you with a soft thunk. You look down at the items before glancing back up at him with a skeptical look on your face, “You ever think about switching it up?”

Ramen Guy, clearly expecting the snark, doesn’t miss a beat, “You ever think about minding your business?” 

“Not really. Boredom makes me nosy,” you shrug. “And at this point, you’re the only thing keeping me entertained at this hour.” 

He rolls his eyes so dramatically you’re mildly concerned he might sprain something. 

“And I’m starting to think you like judging me a little too much.” 

“Wrong. I like judging everyone equally,” you scan his items, then tilt your head. “But maybe you’re a special case. With issues.” 

To your surprise, he snorts. Like, an actual, out-loud laugh. 

“Says the girl who voluntarily works the night shift.”

Your smirk falters for half a second. He catches it.

Ramen Guy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. “What? Too close to home?”

You shift in your spot, “Bold of you to assume I have issues.”

He shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shift the attention back to him. “What about you, then? Why do you keep showing up here, huh?”

At that, something changes. The words in the air, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his demeanor—the slight awkwardness in the way he shifts his weight. 

Then, after a brief pause, he meets your gaze and throws the question right back at you.

“Why do you keep working the night shift?”

You freeze, putting his items back down on the counter, caught off guard by the reversal. "Touché. But I asked first."

There's hesitation again for a moment, his fingers tapping the edge of the counter impatiently—nervously?

"I like the peace and quiet,” he finally says, and for the first time tonight, he meets your eyes.

For a split second, you’re startled by the sincerity in his gaze and sudden shift in tone—it’s almost distracting. But you shake yourself out of it just as quickly.

"Nothing about Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk sounds peaceful or quiet," your voice softer now but still teasing.

"Okay, Miss Graveyard Shift," he fires back, leaning a little closer over the counter. "Why are you here every night? Do you have a thing for fluorescent lighting and cleaning up after drunk customers or something?"

You don't miss the faint challenge in his voice as you narrow your eyes at him.

Then, you settle for a shrug and take a breath, answering honestly.

"It's flexible. Pays well enough," you start, before looking back at him, and add, almost as an afterthought, "...and I like the quiet too."

It’s an honest answer, one that seems to hang in the air between you two for a beat too long. His gaze softens ever so slightly, and you swear you see something shift underneath that stupid cap of his, but before you can dwell on it, he straightens up.

He places his three bills on the counter, grabs his items, and pauses.

“So,” he starts, his lighter tone breaking the silence, “do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Graveyard Shift Girl?”

You raise a brow, amused, as you start putting his bills away, “Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Ramen Guy?”

For a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something smug, something entertained. And you don’t know it, but under his mask, his lips twitch, fighting back a faint smile.

“Touché,” he murmurs, echoing your earlier words before stepping back from the counter, items in hand, but lingers just a moment longer than necessary—like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards the self-serve station, falling back into his regular routine.

And you should do the same.

You try to do the same. But as you go back to your usual tasks—wiping down the counter, restocking shelves, pretending to be productive—you find yourself sneaking glances out of the corner of your eye toward his window seat.

He just sits there, just like he always does, stirring his ramen absentmindedly as he stares out into the empty street. And yet, tonight, something feels…different.

It’s nothing. You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just curiosity. Natural, given how he keeps showing up every night, breaking up the monotony of your shift with his weird food choices and even weirder personality.

And yet—

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to stop thinking about him—the way he looked at you earlier, the way his demeanor shifted even slightly.

It’s nothing.

Still, your gaze flickers back at him, catching the way his fingers tap lightly against the table, lost in thought. You wonder what kind of things keep a guy like him up at night.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to find his weird little habits endearing, too.

The faint sound of the store’s music plays in the background, the clock ticks, and eventually, he finishes his ramen, tosses his trash, and makes his way toward the door.

And then—he hesitates.

Just for a second. A small pause, a barely-there moment where he stops, glances over his shoulder just slightly—just enough to look at you.

“See you tomorrow, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

You blink, caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can manage is to stare at him. Then, as you fail to ignore the weird blooming feeling in your chest, your words slip out almost on instinct:

"Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

The next night, you do something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—you take your cheesy ramen, peace juice pouch, and bag of potato chips and plop yourself down right next to Ramen Guy and his usual window seat. 

He pauses mid-slurp. Keeping his head low, he turns to you slowly. Suspiciously.

“What…are you doing?” 

“Having dinner,” you say matter-of-factly, popping open your bag of chips. 

His gaze drops to your meal, and then back to you. “It’s almost 1:30AM.” 

“Okay? Dinner, early breakfast, midnight snack, call it whatever you want,” you shrug, unbothered as you continue unwrapping your meal. 

Ramen Guy exhales through his nose, shaking his head to himself like he’s just accepted his fate. Without another word, he turns back to his own meal and resumes eating. 

A surprisingly comfortable silence follows—the only sounds filling the empty store the quiet hum of the store’s playlist, the buzz of the lights above you, and the synchronized slurp of two insomniacs with poor diet choices. 

Then, without thinking, you tilt your bag of potato chips, holding it out between you two, “Want one?”

He stops mid-motion, as if he’d almost forgotten you were still here.

Almost.

A glance into your bag, a small shrug, and then, just like that, he grabs a chip and pops it into his mouth, moving so fast you barely catch a glimpse of his face without the mask.

“Thanks,” he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee milk, still keeping his head low.

You hum in response, your fingers drumming against the counter before your curiosity wins the best of you, “So…what kind of life leads you to seek peace and quiet in a convenience store?”

It’s a question that’s been on your mind since last night’s conversation. What can you say? You’re a creature of curiosity.

Ramen Guy shrugs next to you, “What do you mean?”

“Like…you’re here every night. Why at night? Why not during the day?”

He lets out a short chuckle. “You want me to leave?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

You exhale sharply, your fingers now absentmindedly swirling the noodles in your bowl. “Look, I’m just saying—most people are asleep at this hour.”

He smirks. You can hear it in his voice without even looking. “You’re here too, aren’t you?”

“That’s different, this is my job,” you scoff, amused, before pointedly gesturing at this meal before him, “Unless you want to call your weird habits a job. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was paying you to subject your tastebuds to that every night.”

And he laughs. It’s small, barely there, but you catch it. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally answers, “It’s like I told you before, I like the quiet at this hour…I don’t get a lot of that.”

You stop twirling your noodles, the air shifting into that same unspoken understanding from last night. Faint, but unmistakable.

Something unsaid hanging between the two of you, something that tells you this guy is more than just an insomniac with questionable food choices.

You tilt your head. “So, what, you got a bunch of loud roommates or something?”

A small, almost knowing smile tugs at his lips. “Something like that.”

You raise a brow at his vague answer but don’t press. Instead, you nod towards his food. “And your criminal meals? That part of the quiet too?”

He huffs, “Maybe I just have superior taste.”

“Right, totally,” you laugh, the tone in your voice almost testing him. 

Ramen Guy finishes up his meal, wiping his mouth quickly with a napkin before putting his mask back on and finally turning to face you fully.

He narrows his eyes at you, “You think you have me all figured out?”

You mirror his actions, facing him fully for the first time tonight, folding your arms, “Oh, I do have you all figured out, Ramen Guy.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward slightly. “Alright, go on. Tell me who I am, Graveyard Psychic Girl.”

You roll your eyes but accept the challenge, leaning back in your seat.

“You’re a creature of habit, clearly. You like consistency. Probably because your life is very inconsistent otherwise.”

Ramen Guy doesn’t react, so you continue.

“You’re a night owl, but not by choice. You want to sleep, but your brain won’t let you.” Your eyes flick down to the coffee milk. “So, instead, you drink this, even though it probably makes it worse.”

Still no response.

“So now, you just keep showing up here because it’s predictable,” you finish with a small shrug. “And maybe…‘cause you’re kinda lonely.”

That makes him pause.

You immediately regret saying it. Because…what was that?

That was too much. Too deep. Too intrusive.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t deflect. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or peer them at you the way he does a million times a night.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“…Not bad,” he says finally, reaching for another chip from the bag in your hands.

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, kinda harsh, but…mostly true.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that.

A beat of silence passes before Ramen Guy speaks up again, “So basically, you’re saying we’re the same.”

You let out a snort, “Not even close.”

“We both work weird hours. We both like the quiet. We both eat the same convenience store junk food.” He holds up the bag of potato chips before eating another one.

“You just started eating those,” you deadpan. 

“Yeah, but I’m still eating them, which means my taste is obviously elite.”

“You literally eat coffee milk with nuclear ramen.”

“Okay, you’re the one who made it weird.”

A mischievous smile starts forming on your face as you snatch your bag of chips back from him, “So you agree your food choices are weird?” 

His smirk falters as a small giggle rises out of you. 

“Whatever you say, Graveyard Shift Girl.” 

The next night, Heeseung does something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—he’s late. It’s 1:30AM, well past his usual 1:09AM show-up time, and the store is Heeseung-less.

He blames late-night dance practice. He also blames Ni-ki for stealing his usual black hoodie—forcing him to spend an extra thirty minutes looking for another one. Not that the hoodie matters, he would argue (yes, it does).

When he finally steps through the door at 1:32AM, the familiar ding barely finishes echoing before—

“Wow,” you drawl from behind the counter, arms crossed. “Tragic. Unbelievable. I was starting to think you found a new place to bother.”

Heeseung snorts, making a beeline for the ramen aisle, “You wish. Wouldn’t want you to get bored without me.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, “Wow. Thoughtful and self-aware. Who knew you had layers?”

Heeseung tries to ignore you, moving to grab his coffee milk. But his lips twitch under his mask, and he’s glad it’s hiding the way he’s failing to fight the smile growing on his face.

When he finally reaches the counter, you push off from where you were leaning against the counter, hands settling on your hips. “Okay, be honest. Outside of this, do you have anything else going on in your life?” 

Heeseung raises a brow, completely caught off guard. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the past few nights, it’s that you’re incredibly nosy. And for someone who claims to like working the night shift because of the quiet, you’re absolutely terrible at keeping things that way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You mentioned that you work weird hours yesterday,” you gesture vaguely at him. “So, spill.”

His stare remains blank, debating if he can distract you by handing you his three bills of cash (he can’t).

“I do…stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeat, “Quite riveting.”

Heeseung exhales, “Why do you care?”

You shrug, taking his cash and putting it away. “You must do something interesting. You’re too weirdly confident for a guy who just bums around convenience stores at night.”

Heeseung scoffs. "Weirdly confident?"

"Yeah, like—" You wave around you. "You walk around like you have some big, mysterious purpose. But all I ever see you do is glare at instant noodles and sip milk like a sad Victorian child."

Heeseung shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Maybe that is my purpose."

Then, he simply shrugs. But there’s something in his gaze—something unreadable, like he’s deciding exactly how much he wants to say.

"It’s hard to explain,” he finally says. “I just…have a weird work schedule.”

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in, I don’t really get normal hours. Always moving, always working. Makes sleep kinda impossible."

You pause, taking in his words. Then, you shift slightly, crossing your arms. "Sounds exhausting."

Heeseung exhales a laugh, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea."

For a moment, a familiar and warm quiet fills the air as the two of you linger, as if waiting for the other to say something more.

And he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels a little too tight—like he’s let you stumble into a part of him you weren’t supposed to see yet.

“Well,” you say quietly, your lips curving into a soft smile that sends a weird jolt through his body that he chooses to ignore. “I’m honored you’ve chosen this fine establishment as your official sanctuary.”

He scoffs, reaching for his items. "Don’t let it go to your head, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

He then turns to head to his usual corner when—

“Y/N.”

Heeseung pauses, turning back at you like an awkward child lost in the middle of a store.

“My name,” you clarify, casually returning to sorting the register’s bills. “A lot easier to say than Graveyard Shift Girl.”

Heeseung gives you a slow nod, something unfamiliar and unplaceable twisting in his stomach as he turns back around.

And when he finishes his meal and leaves that night, he calls out—

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And, this time, he doesn’t fight the smile under his mask when he hears your voice, a little softer, call back out:

“Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

It happens the moment he steps inside.

Heeseung doesn’t even make it past the threshold before a familiar melody drifts through the weak convenience store speakers and to his ears.

Familiar because he’s heard it a thousand times.

Familiar because it’s literally his voice singing the line.

His stomach drops.

Instead of his usual beeline to the ramen aisle, Heeseung turns towards the counter where you’re idly tapping on your phone, oblivious.

The hum of the melody continues, and Heeseung is suddenly too hyper-aware of how loud his own voice sounds in the otherwise dead-silent store.

Panic creeps up his spine.

He moves fast, crossing the store in a few long strides, slamming his hands down onto the counter that divides the two of you.

You jump in your seat.

“Geez—” you clutch your chest, wide-eyed as you take in his very sudden, very urgent presence. “What the hell?”

Heeseung ignores you, pointing above him, “Did you put this on?”

Your brows furrow as you put your phone down, glance up at him, then at the speakers he’s pointing at. You barely register the song before recognition flickers across your face.

“Oh—this? Nah, it’s the store’s playlist,” you gesture towards the iPad behind the counter, currently playing a Current Hits playlist on shuffle. “It’s some group’s new song. Pretty catchy.”

Heeseung just stares at you, mind racing.

You don’t recognize it.

You don’t recognize his voice.

The realization sends relief crashing over him, but he quickly snaps out of it with a brand-new problem—because now he has to decide what the hell to do with this information.

Does he tell you? Drop the act and lay it all out? Would you believe him? Would you even care?

“You okay?” Now you’re staring at him, suspicious. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

Heeseung clears his throat, realizing his stance is way too conspicuous, and slowly removes his hands from the counter to stand up straight, attempting to sound normal, “No reason.” 

You squint at him.

Then—

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Wait.”

His heart stops. Oh, shit. She figured it out. This is it.

“Are you a fan?” you blurt, leaning forward in your seat eagerly.

Heeseung blinks.

…What.

“Oh, you totally are,” you continue, completely missing the way his soul is currently leaving his body. “You came straight to the counter like a man on a mission. Oh my god. Are they, like, your favorite group or something?”

Heeseung has never wanted to laugh and cry at the same time more than he does in this moment.

“Something like that,” he mutters, bringing a hand to rub this temple, because no way this is happening right now.

You beam brightly from your seat, “That’s cute. Who’s your bias?”

At that, Heeseung does laugh—because this is now officially the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

There’s a long pause.

And then—after a deep breath, a long and heated internal debate, and one last glance at your innocent, completely oblivious face—he finally exhales, looking you straight in the eye.

“This guy,” he says as he hears his own voice ring out through the store. “Because that’s me. That’s my voice.”

Silence.

You stare at him.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then, after what feels like an eternity—

“…Huh?”

Then you tilt your head. "I'm sorry—what?"

Heeseung watches as your expression cycles from confusion to skepticism to outright disbelief. He braces himself.

"My name is Lee Heeseung," he repeats slowly. "From Enhypen."

Another beat of silence.

Then—because you’re you—

You burst out laughing.

"Okay, Ramen Guy," you snort, crossing your arms. "Very funny.”

Heeseung sighs, "I knew this would happen."

"Because you’re delusional?"

"Because you don’t pay attention."

You roll your eyes, "Oh, I’m sorry, but when in our thriving relationship have you ever given me a reason to believe that you’re actually a famous idol and not just some guy who has concerning dietary habits?"

Heeseung groans.

He regrets everything. He regrets this entire conversation. He could have lied. He could have said literally anything else. But no—he had to be honest. And look where that got him.

"I’m serious," he insists, leveling you with a look.

You stare back at him.

Then, something seems to click in your brain, because you suddenly lunge for your phone.

"Oh, we’re doing this," you mutter, fingers flying across the screen as you type in his name. "Let’s see if—"

You stop.

Heeseung watches as your eyes widen, scanning the images in front of you. Then you look up at him. Then back down at the phone.

Then back at him.

“Take the mask off,” you mutter quietly, slowly holding your phone up next to his face.

With an exhausted sigh, Heeseung does what he’s told and pulls it down for the first time in front of you.

You scan him. Then the phone. Then him.

"You've gotta be shitting me," you breathe.

Heeseung shrugs, "Told you."

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing.

You don’t know what shocks you more—the fact that a literal celebrity has been standing in front of you this whole time, or the realization that the once-random stranger you used to relentlessly tease has, somehow, always been this ridiculously good-looking all along. 

"So…you’re famous?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that?" You shove your phone toward him, your screen now displaying the group’s Instagram page. "You literally have fans. Like, millions of them."

Heeseung cringes, "Okay, you don’t have to say it like that."

"Like what? Like you’re a superstar and I’ve been treating you like a regular guy who can't cook for himself?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am?"

“Unbelievable,” you scoff, shaking your head. “So you sing. You perform. You—commit crimes against humanity with your ramen choices each night.”

Heeseung groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” you echo, standing up from your seat behind the counter. “So you’re telling me that every night, an actual, real-life idol has been showing up here, inhaling a week’s worth of sodium, and I—” You pause, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you even allowed to be eating this garbage?”

“And are you ever able to mind your own business?” Heeseung counters, now fully regretting this entire conversation.

“Absolutely not, Lee Heeseung, because this is literally the plot of a drama,” you wave your hands in disbelief. “Mystery insomniac convenience store guy turns out to be a world famous pop star—”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away.”

“—and I, the unsuspecting cashier, unknowingly roast him every night like he’s just some sleep-deprived college student instead of a millionaire with talent. Wait—” you then pause again, placing your hands on your hips, staring at him with a newfound judgment. “—you’re loaded, aren’t you?”

Heeseung pinches the bridge of your nose, exasperated, “Why is that your takeaway from this?”

“You are!” you exclaim, your smile widening as you ignore his suffering. “You’re rich and you’re out here eating instant ramen every night!”

Heeseung groans again, dropping his head onto the counter in front of you, “Oh my god.”

Grinning, you bend down to this level. “So this whole time, you’ve been lying to me?”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at you. "It’s not lying. It’s…selective honesty.”

You scoff, straightening up just as Heeseung does, meeting his gaze with an accusatory squint. “That’s literally the definition of lying.”

“Look, it’s not like I planned to make a habit out of this,” he gestures to the store around him. “I came in one night, and then I came back, and suddenly, I had a thing going. Then you showed up and started running your mouth, and—”

“And you kept coming back anyways,” you finish, crossing your arms, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips.

Heeseung freezes. His mouth opens. Then closes.

“…Yeah.”

A silence stretches between you—charged, almost personal—until you decide to cut through the tension with a smirk.

“What if I play your group’s music over the speakers every night?”

The look on his face is deadly. “You wouldn’t.”

Your grin grows, “Wouldn’t I, though?”

“This is the worst night of my life,” Heeseung drags a hand down his face and turns towards the ramen aisle. “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, c’mon,” you tease, calling out after him and delighting in his suffering. “Also can we talk about how you literally just said you’re your own bias?”

“Shut up.”

You’re still laughing when he returns to the counter thirty seconds later—Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk in hand, cheeks tinged pink.

“Alright, serious question,” you say, leaning in slightly from your seat at the window barstools. “If you had to give up either Extra Spicy Hellfire or coffee milk for the rest of your life, which would you choose?”

Heeseung immediately stops chewing, his chopsticks frozen midair as he turns to you with a look that says you just personally offended him.

“That’s straight evil.”

“You must choose, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “You can’t just throw life-altering hypotheticals at me like that.”

“Choose.”

He stares at his ramen. Then at this coffee milk. Then back at you.

Then back at his ramen.

Then back at you.

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Aw,” you flash him your sweetest, most infuriating smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Like, ever.”

Heeseung shoots a glare at you, “I hope your regular spicy ramen tastes like disappointment.”

“Oh, it totally does,” you look down at your own ramen in front of you and take an exaggerated slurp, “It’s just so awful.”

Heeseung’s lips perk up into a smile at your weirdly endearing antics before shaking his head, “You’re a lost cause.”

You giggle to yourself, taking a sip of your own juice when you hear Heeseung, barely audible, suddenly mutter:

“…I’d give up coffee milk.”

It’s quiet. It’s barely there.

Your jaw drops.

“I know, okay?” He rubs his temples as if the decision is actually hurting him. “It’s like choosing between two children. But at the end of the day, ramen is ramen.”

You nod along, pretending you understand the gravity of his heavy decision (you don’t). But still, you smile—because you were the one who got him to betray his beloved coffee milk.

Heeseung takes a sip of it anyway, groaning as he swirls the bottle in his hand. “I hate that you made me think about this.”

“You should be thanking me. Y’know, character growth and all that.”

“More like character damage.”

You grin, victorious, and he just rolls his eyes before pausing for a second to think, then—he nudges his ramen cup toward you.

“Here. Try some.”

You recoil immediately and look up at him with a look that tells him he’s absolutely psychotic.

“Absolutely not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why? You scared?”

“No, Heeseung, I just have these things called taste buds.”

He scoffs, shoving the bowl between you two closer. “Just one bite. C’mon, Graveyard Shift Girl, live a little. For me.”

You hold his gaze, suspicious but faltering, because—damn it—he’s looking at you like that. All smug and teasing, head tilted slightly, and it affects you.

And then he moves. 

He picks up his chopsticks, twirls them in the bowl, and catches a perfect bundle of noodles before leaning forward, holding them up between you two. He waits.

Your breath hitches. Your eyes flicker to the steam curling from the noodles, twisting in the air between your faces, fragile and fleeting.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

It’s ridiculous, really. I mean, it’s ramen. But the way the space between you suddenly feels thin, the way his grip on the chopsticks stays steady, his fingers just inches from your lips, the way his dark eyes stay locked onto yours, watching you with something unreadable flickering beneath the usual teasing glint—it feels like time slows down.

You blink rapidly, clearing your throat. It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re overthinking.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, watching. Waiting.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and slowly lean in to take the bite.

Your lips brush the chopsticks as you close your mouth around the noodles, and for a split second—one charged, unspoken, split second—neither of you move.

Heeseung is so close.

So close.

You can see the soft curve of his mouth, the way his gaze flickers over your face, the way his breath catches slightly like he just realized something.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of the close proximity and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. Panicked, you pull back quickly and settle into your seat like nothing happened.

But then you start chewing.

And that’s when you realize—

No, wait. Wait. That heat in your cheeks?

Oh.

Oh no.

Yeah. It’s definitely not because of Heeseung (well, maybe a part of it is). 

Because the second you swallow down the bundle of noodles—the embodiment of heat, pain, and suffering all slams into your mouth instantly.

You freeze.

Your brain short-circuits.

And then—

“Oh my GOD—” you choke, slamming your hands onto the counter, your body shaking as the spice courses through your veins.

Your throat ignites, your sinuses clear, and you swear you can hear colors.

Heeseung? Heeseung loses it.

His laugh bursts out of him—loud, unguarded, and completely delightful. He clutches his stomach, nearly hiccuping from how hard he’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples deep in his cheeks.

If you weren’t literally physically dying in this current moment, you’d probably be absolutely too flustered to function at the sight.

“No way—” he wheezes through his laughter,“—are you actually struggling right now?”

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, HEESEUNG?!” you glare at him through the tears forming in your eyes as you desperately flail your arms around, searching for your juice pouch. “You eat this voluntarily?!”

“Every night, baby.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

Your hands finally find your drink and you gulp it down as if it’s your lifeline, eyes still watery, throat still burning, lungs barely breathing. But somewhere in the middle of your suffering, you catch yourself staring.

At Heeseung.

At the way he’s still smiling, like he just had the best meal of his life. At the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, his dimples peeking out like his own hidden secrets, the way his nose scrunches slightly when he’s amused—

Weird.

You blink the thoughts (and your tears) away, shaking it off, and blame the spice, the delirium, and sheer trauma of what just happened.

You clear your throat, sitting back with a desperate huff.

“I hope,” you catch your breath, gesturing to his bowl, “that when you come in tomorrow, we’re all out of this horrid flavor.”

Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a knowing look.

“You’d still restock it for me, though.”

Damn it.

Your shoulders slump, and both of you know you’re defeated.

He knows you know you’re defeated. 

Heeseung just grins, then, without a word, slides his coffee milk toward you in a silent truce.

You stare at it. Then at him.

His smile grows.

And you accept it.

Begrudgingly.

It’s 1:20AM when you find yourself behind the counter, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of instant noodles and bottled drinks. The store hums with its usual white noise—lights buzzing above, soft music humming overhead, the low whirr of the coolers. 

And Heeseung? 

Heeseung is across the counter, perched on a barstool he dragged from across the store, doing absolutely nothing to help. 

For the nth time tonight, he flips a soda bottle into the air. 

And for the nth time tonight, he fails to land it upright, the bottle clattering onto the counter.

“You’re supposed to be helping me restock,” you remind him, tossing a pack of chips at him. 

“I am helping,” he argues, dodging the bag in time and letting it fall flat onto the ground. Great. 

You cross your arms, scoffing, “Oh yeah? What category does sitting there and flipping Diet Coke fall under?” 

Heeseung finally puts the bottle down on the counter and hums, tapping his fingers against the counter like he’s deep in thought. Then, he flashes you a meek smile, “Moral support?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning back to unbox another package from the pile stacked in front of you. 

Another silence falls between you and Heeseung watches as you go back to your job before he breaks it—

“How do you do this every night? Does it not get…I don’t know, tedious? Boring?” 

You freeze in your spot, caught by surprise at the question.

“Hm,” you turn to him, head tilted as you think.

Heeseung glances up at you, intrigued. The way your lips purse slightly, how your fingers fidget absentmindedly with the torn edge of a cardboard box. 

You exhale, leaning back against the counter, “Yeah, the hours suck, pay is…alright. And—” 

You hesitate. Your gaze drifts toward the floor, fixating on a dent near the register, “—and I think, at some point, I thought I felt stuck.” 

Something in Heeseung’s expression shifts. 

“I mean, I’m a college student, for god’s sake,” you continue, a small, humorless laugh escaping you. “And I spend my nights serving cigarettes to barely legal teens and cleaning up after ramen spills. It kind of felt like I was just…watching life pass me by, you know?”

Your voice quiets and it’s just the soft hum of the store again. You pick at the box without thinking, fingers grazing over the worn edges, and Heeseung watches you.

Because he gets it. 

He gets it in a way that makes his chest ache a little.

Because despite the differences in your lives—despite how he’s constantly moving while you feel stuck—you both know the feeling of watching life slip between your fingers, of wondering if you’re ever going to feel like you belong in it.

Heeseung holds the soda bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, murmuring, “Yeah, I get that.” 

You glance up at him, making eye contact, but you don’t push. 

“But then,” you say quietly, “I started seeing this place differently. Instead of somewhere I was stuck, it became more of a…break. An escape from everything. A breath of fresh air from expectations and routine.” 

And that—that makes Heeseung look up. 

Because deep down, that’s exactly what all of this has become for him too. 

He doesn’t know when it happened—if maybe it was the first night he found the store, maybe whenever you showed up, maybe all the sarcastic exchanges, or somewhere in between all of that—but these late-night visits, these stolen moments in a world that demands from him, have become something steady. Something his. 

And he wonders if maybe…maybe you’re the reason for that. 

Maybe you’ve been keeping him grounded in a life that never stops moving. 

And maybe he’s been keeping you from feeling stuck. 

Just maybe.

It’s late. Way later than usual. And Heeseung is still here. 

And you don’t know how, but you’ve both abandoned your usual spots—his self-proclaimed window seat and your stool behind the register.

Instead, you’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the register counter, backs pressed against the shelf of over-the-counter medications that you just re-organized, with a laptop and plenty of empty snack wrappers sitting between the two of you.

“See this is exactly my problem with this movie,” you point at your laptop screen, your voice slightly muffled by the gummy bears in your mouth. “One idiot makes one bad decision, and suddenly everyone’s dead! Like, be so for real.”

Heeseung scoffs, leaning back on his hands, “It’s a movie, Y/N. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”

“And I don’t have to pretend this isn’t garbage,” you shoot back as the credits roll, unimpressed. “This is objectively the worst thing I’ve seen.”

“I think I just have an acquired superior taste,” Heeseung quips, his eyes teasing. “Just like with my food choices.” 

“Right,” your voice drags out. “Superior delusion, maybe.”

Heeseung shoves your shoulder with his own, and you laugh, the sound natural, unfiltered, and totally at his expense.

As you shut your laptop and start gathering the remains of your late-night snack feast, the conversation quiets for a moment into an easy, warm silence. It’s the kind of quiet that feels good, the kind that’s been happening more lately—something you never would’ve expected that first night you ever saw him enter the store. 

Then, Heeseung exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back against the shelf, “You know, this might be the longest I’ve sat and relaxed in months.” 

You glance up at him, brows raised, “What, you don’t get to laze around on the floor surrounded by junk food with your favorite convenience store worker on a regular basis?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he huffs a laugh. “But I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And sometimes it’s like…”

He pauses and tilts his head back, his eyes following the way the light fixture above him flickers in and out, “Like I’m moving so fast I forget what it’s like to just…be.”

Something in his voice makes you pause in your actions, your hands putting down the miscellaneous wrappers between you.

“Is it hard?” you ask quietly.

He lets out a breathy chuckle from beside you, “It’s…a lot. You’re always being watched, always expected to be on. And even during breaks I’m already thinking about the next thing. The next schedule, next performance, next practice.”

You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against his knee, something you’ve started to notice over time whenever he’s lost in thought. 

“But there are moments that make it worth it,” he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. “The music, how fun it is to be on stage, the fans. The feeling of performing and knowing people are there because they love what you do. It’s unreal.”

Your own smile unconsciously appears as you listen to him reflect, taking in his words. You never stopped to really think about his life in-depth before—and it does sound like a lot. Like something people dream of but don’t realize the weight of until they’re carrying it themselves. 

You nudge his knee lightly with yours, “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to just exist sometimes, too.” 

Heeseung turns to look at you, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, reaching into the closest bag of gummy bears to you and tossing one to him. He catches it easily, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“See, this is why I keep coming back,” he says, chewing. “Gourmet snacks and free therapy.”

You roll your eyes. “Unbelievable. I take it back. Suffer.”

Heeseung laughs, popping another gummy bear into his mouth, before his fingers start tapping his knee again. Then, after a beat—

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

When you look up at him, he’s already looking at you with a new…something. A newfound sincerity, maybe. Or uncertainty. Or both.

Your eyes meet, and suddenly, he visibly hesitates—shifting almost awkwardly in his spot, as if he both rehearsed what he’s about to say and yet has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact.

“I—um,” he swallows hard. “I’m sorry? For, y’know, being kind of a jerk when we first met. I think I was pretty…” He trails off awkwardly. “Jerk-ish.” 

You don’t move for a second. Slowly, one brow arches.

Heeseung thinks he regrets everything.

Then, a smile—slow and sweet—curls at your lips.

And suddenly, Heeseung realizes he doesn’t regret a damn thing.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, nodding along dramatically. “You were a menace. Like, an insufferable, grumpy, little menace.”

Heeseung lets out a noise that lands somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Okay, I get it.”

“But,” you continue, locking eyes with him again, “I guess I should apologize too.”

Heeseung perks up, now his brow lifting, “For what? Finally admitting I was right about—”

“For judging you and your still…very questionable choices.”

“Ah, there it is.”

You giggle, nudging him with your elbow before pausing. 

“But seriously…you’re, like…” you dramatically draw out the moment as if the words physically pain you to say.

Heeseung smirks, leaning in slightly, waiting for you.

“…pretty cool, I guess.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you scoff. “You’re still a ramen-addicted jerk.”

Heeseung hums, still smiling, “Might be too late.”

Then, he tacks on, without thinking twice, “You’re pretty cool, too, I guess.”

You laugh at the hesitancy in his voice, “Okay, that sounded almost sincere.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile softens, “No, but seriously, it’s…nice. Having someone I could talk to outside of…you know, my whole chaotic life.”

The sudden shift in the air quiets you for a moment as you look at Heeseung, noticing the slight drop in his shoulders, the way his fingers continue to drum against his leg. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“I don’t…really talk to people like this,” he quietly says, as if admitting something to himself more so to you. Then, after a pause, he glances back up, eyes searching your own. “Now like how I do with you. Like…I could tell you anything and everything, really.”

Your breath catches, but you keep your expression neutral, “Oh?”

Heeseung shifts, looking down at his hands before exhaling a quiet laugh, “Sorry. Too serious?”

You find yourself quickly shaking your head. Because although, yes, most of your interactions with Heeseung are filled with jokes and teasing, the serious conversations or shared warm silences in between recently—have started to mean something more. They’ve become an outlet, a quiet escape from reality. It’s like the moment he steps through the store’s doors, the door rings, the outside world fades, and for a few hours, it’s just the two of you in this shared space.

A space that feels safe, untouched by expectations, where both of you can just be.

“No,” you say, softer this time. “Not at all.”

You hesitate for a beat before adding, “I…really like talking to you too. It’s—” you let out a small laugh, “almost unnaturally easy, actually.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond right away. He just nods, and then looks up at you from the ground and his eyes are serious—no teasing, no usual smugness, just something…real. Vulnerable.

Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast.

You should say something. Something light, or something sarcastic, or something normal.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy looking at his face.

Then, without thinking, his lips.

And he’s looking at yours.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly, you’re close. He’s close. Too close. Close enough to hear his quiet inhale. To see the way his lashes flutter. To feel the space between you two thinning into something dangerously nonexistent.

You should move. You should break the moment before it turns into something neither of you can take back.

But you don’t.

And he doesn’t.

And then—

Ding.

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open shatters the moment.

You both jolt apart like a pair of teenagers caught guilty, and your heart is practically breaking out of your ribcage as you scramble to your feet, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, your face burning as you appear from behind the counter to greet the customer that was blissfully unaware of whatever was definitely not about to happen behind the counter. 

You clear your throat as you look down at Heeseung, who’s still frozen in his spot and trying his very best not to lose his mind, “I should—um. Go back to work.”

Then, suddenly, Heeseung stands too, nodding quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink, very much not looking at you, “Right. Yeah. Work.”

Right when you turn back to the counter, the customer is there, waiting for you to ring them up. You plaster the most normal smile you can muster, scan their snack, take their cash, and hand them their change—all while pretending you don’t feel Heeseung’s presence still lingering behind you.

You don’t turn around, and he doesn’t move.

And despite the complete lack of physical contact, you still feel his warmth. The same amount of warmth as when he was only mere inches away from your own face.

The door chimes as the customer leaves.

Then, finally—Heeseung clears his throat.

Hesitantly, you turn around, bracing yourself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding your gaze before forcing out, in the most casual voice he can manage—

“So, uh—same time tomorrow?”

You blink.

Then, finally, you let out a small laugh, “You’re so weird.”

The tension in the air cracks just enough, and Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, “And yet, you’d miss me if I didn’t show up, wouldn’t you?”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, except—nothing comes out.

Because, unfortunately, you know he’s right.

And he knows he’s right.

So, naturally, instead of admitting defeat, you suddenly grab a rag from behind the counter and start aggressively scrubbing at a perfectly clean surface.

“Go home, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung just grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as steps out from behind the counter and backs away. “Night, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

When he’s finally gone, you’re left standing there, staring at where he just was before you.

And finally, when the reality of what just happened fully settles in—

You groan, dropping your head against the counter.

Because now he's in your head.

Great.

The clock above you ticks, a sound that usually fades into the background and becomes a part of the store’s white noise. But tonight? 

Tonight, it’s your biggest freaking nuisance. 

You think if you have to hear it tick one more time, you’re taking the ladder from the backroom, climbing up there, yanking that thing off the wall, and tossing it right into the dumpster. 

Why? 

Because, it’s 2:21AM. 

2:21AM, and you’re alone. Stuck in this sad, empty convenience store with nothing but your own annoying thoughts and the snacks laid out in front of you with no one to share them with. 

Same time tomorrow, my ass, you think bitterly, aggressively straightening a stack of receipts near the register that don’t even need straightening. 

Heeseung’s voice from a few days ago still rings in your head—completely, and unfortunately, uninvited.

You don’t even know why they’re stuck in there, his words looping around, constantly taunting you.

The worst part?

His words had been entirely untrue.

Because it’s been three days.

Three full days since Heeseung has walked through those automatic doors, plopped down in his usual seat, and proceeded to either a) annoy you, b) argue with you over his food-related crimes, or c) make you laugh against your will.

And you don’t know why it’s bothering you so much.

Frustrated? Yeah, you’re frustrated. But the real question is—at what, exactly?

Frustrated that he just disappeared without so much as a heads-up? No warning?

Or maybe you’re frustrated at the very fact that you’re even thinking about this at all.

It’s not like he owes you an explanation. It’s not like he belongs to this store…or to you.

So why does it feel like something’s missing every time you glance at the entrance, half-expecting to hear the ding of the doors and see him stroll in with his stupid hoodie and even stupider smirk?

You shake your head, trying your best to snap yourself out of it.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You don’t care.

You don’t care so much that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain—your traitorous, overthinking, hardworking brain—itches with a thought.

A stupid, ridiculous, subconscious thought.

And before you can fully even process what you’re doing, your fingers are already unlocking your phone, your thumbs moving on autopilot as you do something you swore you wouldn’t.

You search up his name.

It’s pathetic. It’s sad. Even you’re disappointed in yourself. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t associate Heeseung with his job, with the persona that everyone else sees. Because to you, Heeseung is just…Heeseung—the insomniac who bickers with you every night, who somehow turns every conversation into an argument he has to win, who sits cross-legged with you behind the register eating spicy noodles and giving objectively bad movie recommendations.

And to him? 

Well. You thought that to him, you were just you. Just some convenience store worker he happened to befriend. Someone outside of his world, outside of the blinding lights. Someone he didn’t have to be anyone around. 

His words echo in your mind as you think—just a person he could tell anything and everything to. 

You push the thought along with their feelings down as you continue scrolling—quick, desperate, your fingers flying over your screen, swiping through posts, comments, anything that could explain his sudden absence—

And then. 

You see it.

A tweet. 

Tagging his group, followed by a message. It’s short. Sweet. Simple. 

Yet entirely soul-crushing. 

“Can’t believe they’re leaving for tour already tomorrow! So excited to see them in a few days!!” 

Your breath catches. 

Your eyes flicker over the words again.

And again.

Leaving. For tour.

Tomorrow.

Your stomach twists violently as you scan for more confirmation, your hands gripping your phone with a newfound frustration as you tap through articles, fan accounts—anything to tell you this isn’t real. That there’s some mistake. That you didn’t just foolishly spend three days waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

But there it is. Everywhere. Right in front of you.

Confirmed dates. Cities. Posters.

Heeseung is leaving. Tomorrow.

And he didn’t say a word.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at your screen. The words all blur together, but the sinking feeling in your chest is sharp, clear, and undeniable.

And you hate it.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate that your first instinct wasn’t to be happy for him, or proud, or even remotely understanding.

Instead, you’re angry. Upset. Hurt.

And what you hate the most?

You know exactly why you feel this way.

And just as that realization settles in—just as the blur of your feelings finally sharpens into something unmistakable, something you can no longer ignore—the familiar ding of the automatic doors cuts through the quiet store and the screaming thoughts in your head.

You almost don’t look up.

Almost.

But then you do, and your stomach drops.

Because there he is.

You blink, because at first you think maybe you’ve been drowning in your thoughts for so long that you’ve started hallucinating him—manifesting his presence out of sheer frustration towards him.

But, no.

Heeseung stands there, at the entrance, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking at you like nothing’s changed.

Like he hasn’t been gone for days, like he hasn’t left you suffering with your own emotions—like he hasn’t been the only thing on your mind even when you really, really, didn’t want him to be.

“Hey,” Heeseung nods at you casually, walking over to his usual stupid aisle, grabbing his usual stupid Extra Spicy Hellfire, then reaching for his usual stupid coffee milk—all like clockwork, all like he never left.

You don’t respond.

Instead, you busy yourself—wiping the spotless corner of your counter, smoothing out a crumpled receipt, pretending you’re looking for something in the shelves beneath you.

Anything to keep yourself from looking at him.

And you might actually lose it.

Because if you have to stand here and pretend like you’re fine, that these past few days haven’t felt like an eternity for you—you might actually lose it.

Heeseung finally walks up to the counter, places his things between you, then pauses before repeating, tilting his head, “Hey?” 

He shifts slightly, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You don’t.

A beat passes. Then another.

“You mad at me or something?” he asks, his head still tilted, his voice light, hesitant.

You inhale, your fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the counter.

Then, you let out a quiet laugh—an empty, humorless scoff.

“Should I be?”

Heeseung frowns, clearly confused, “What?”

You finally look at him. And you think it was a mistake. Because the second you meet his gaze—uncertain, searching, so annoyingly familiar—you feel your throat close up.

He looks the same. Same stupid hoodie. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes that you’ve somehow come to find comfort in.

And that makes you hate this even more.

“Is this because I haven’t been showing up?” Heeseung tries again, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn, I didn’t realize you’d miss me that much. Sorry, Graveyard Shift Gi—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Your voice is quiet, but he doesn’t miss it.

And he stills.

There it is.

He shifts in his spot again, his eyes now darting down to where his fingers are tapping against the counter.

“What?” he says again, but this time, it’s different. Careful.

You swallow, forcing down the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to look at him.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

It’s soft. Barely above a whisper. But lined with something raw, something vulnerable, something hurting.

And Heeseung hears all of it. He feels all of it.

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at you, lips pressing into a thin line.

Somewhere in the background, the clock continues ticking, the lights overhead buzzing, a song from the speakers humming.

And Heeseung stays silent.

“You weren’t,” you murmur, the words caught in your throat. “Were you?”

Heeseung exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, “I—” 

He stops. Starts again. 

“It’s not—it wasn’t—”

You cross your arms tightly, more so to ground yourself more than anything.

He lets out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head.

“Look,” he gestures vaguely, between you, at the store, at the shelves, at the space you’ve unknowingly carved out for him here. “This—this is the only thing that’s felt normal for me in a long time.”

Your stomach twists.

“Everything else—my whole life, it’s all…chaos. But this?” He swallows, his eyes finally looking up to meet your gaze, his voice quieter now. “You?”

His eyes flash with something new, something softer, something that lingers in the way he looks at you. The same way he has over late-night snack feasts, whispered movie nights, conversations that blended into the early mornings. 

“You’re the closest thing to normal I’ve had.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because you get it. You know him, so you understand.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he was going to leave without telling you.

You inhale slowly, your heavy gaze holding his.

“So what?” your voice is still quiet, but now edged with a new sharpness. “You thought if you didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t have to be real?”

Heeseung presses his lips together. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have to lose this yet.”

Your breath catches.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Heeseung didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to ruin this.

Whatever this is.

Whatever the two of you had built over the weeks between instant noodles and snacks, between arguments over food choices, between all the unspoken moments that made you feel like maybe, maybe, this was something more.

You let out a wavering breath, shaking your head, “That’s not fair, Heeseung.”

“I know,” his voice is rough now, like he’s tired of saying it. Like he’s already told himself a million times and accepted it. Like he wants you to just accept it and move on.

But you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know how!” His voice rises in frustration, an exasperated sigh slipping out. “Because you—this—whatever this is, it started feeling real. Too real. And I just didn’t want to fuck it up, alright?”

The words knock the air out of your lungs.

Because suddenly, everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, every feeling you’ve been trying to convince yourself wasn’t there, is suddenly painfully undeniable.

And worse than realizing how real this is?

Knowing that Heeseung knows it, feels it, too. 

But heavier than that realization is the anger.

Not just at the situation.

Now, at Heeseung.

“So you thought it’d be better to just disappear instead?” Your voice shakes, biting down on the thick emotion rising in your throat. “You didn’t even think to tell me.”

Heeseung steps closer, and for the first time tonight, you see it—his own frustration bubbling beneath his surface, the barely restrained emotion.

“What does it matter, Y/N?” his sharp voice cuts through the heavy air lingering between you. “What difference would it—would you—have made? It’s not like this was ever going to change anything.”

Your heart stops.

At that, you falter, and Heeseung sees it.

He sees the way your eyes move away from his. He sees the way your posture suddenly deflates, as if his words physically hurt you.

Because they do.

Because you know what he’s saying.

He’s leaving. And you’re staying.

And no matter what, no matter the amount of realness, no matter what either of you feel—that was always going to be the reality.

“Right,” you finally say, your voice dangerously close to giving out. “Because it’s not like any of this really meant anything, right? At least not enough for you to acknowledge.”

Now your words hurt.

Heeseung winces. His jaw tightens. His fists clench.

Then finally—

“…I don’t know,” he mutters.

The final crack.

You let in a sharp inhale, nodding once, your lips pressed into a straight line. “Got it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, like he wants to take the words back, like he wants to fix whatever just broke between you.

Instead, he exhales, stepping back from the counter, “I should go.”

This time, you don’t stop him.

You don’t say anything at all.

Heeseung hesitates for a half second, like maybe—just maybe—he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you don’t. 

Not when you feel so utterly lost in everything you’re feeling that you can’t even begin to put into words. 

So he nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, turning away.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting you.

Cold air rushes in.

And then—he’s gone.

And you?

You’re left at the counter, staring at his abandoned cup of ramen, untouched coffee milk, and the ghost of something that never got the chance to be.

Heeseung doesn’t think. 

He wasn’t thinking four days ago, when the space between you two had grown impossibly small—when he was this close to you, when the air felt thick with something unspoken, yet undeniable, something that made his pulse race and his breath hitch. 

He wasn’t thinking when he let fear creep in, when the weight of him realizing his own feelings sent him running, keeping him from stepping foot into the store at all. For three days. 

He wasn’t thinking when he looked you in the eye last night and told you this didn’t matter. That none of it ever did. 

He wasn’t thinking when he walked out of the store, leaving you to think that you didn’t matter to him. That you never did. 

And he definitely isn’t thinking now, when he’s supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour, but instead—his feet pound against the pavement, tearing through the empty, quiet streets like a man possessed, like maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the regret clawing in his chest. 

The cold air stings against his face, streetlights flicker overhead, and the city hums all around him—but none of it matters. None of it even registers. 

Because all Heeseung knows, all he cares about, is getting to you.

Because Heeseung?

He can go months on tour without his Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.

He can go months on tour without his coffee milk.

He can go months on tour without those, even if it means braving his insomnia.

But what he can’t go without?

Heeseung can’t—he won’t—go months on tour knowing you think you meant nothing to him. That you didn’t bring him relief after the longest days, laughter when he forgot how to find it, comfort in a world that never slowed down for him.

That you weren’t the one thing that felt real in a life that so often didn’t.

And if there’s even the smallest chance to fix this—to make sure you know—then nothing else matters.

The neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, and Heeseung’s heart lurches in his chest as he approaches, his staggered breathing visible in the cold air in front of him, his hands clammy.

He stumbles through the sliding doors, the familiar ding barely registering in his mind as his eyes dart around—only for his stomach to drop.

The counter is empty. The soft sound of your absentminded humming, the teasing lilt of your voice, the annoyed glare in your eyes—it’s all missing.

And all wrong. Too quiet, too empty, too…not you.

Instead, some guy he’s never seen before glances up from behind the register, staring at the way Heeseung just lingers frozen near the entrance.

“Uh,” Heeseung swallows thickly, his voice strained from his sprint. “The girl who usually works nights. Is she here?”

“Oh, Y/N?” the worker raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, she called off tonight.”

Heeseung stills.

You’re not here.

You’re not here.

And it’s his fault.

Because last night, you were here—waiting, hoping, and he walked out on you.

“Oh,” is all Heeseung can manage before he feels the words getting caught in his throat.

His jaw clenches, his stomach twists. The weight of regret settles deep, heavy and unrelenting.

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” he mutters, nodding absently, then turns towards the door.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting him.

Cold air rushes in.

And just as Heeseung steps out—

He sees you.

You.

Right there, walking towards the store, hands shoved into the pockets of your coat, face buried into your scarf.

You stop.

He stops.

For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you breathe.

The neon glow of the store’s sign reflects off your face, casting a shadow over your widened eyes. A car honks in the distance. A gust of wind blows past.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Heeseung says without thinking, almost breathless.

A small laugh escapes your lips, airy and uncertain, “Yeah, well…neither are you.”

You’re right.

He should be on his way to the airport. Bags packed, schedule set, moving on.

But instead? Instead, he’s here, standing in front of the only person who has ever made him hesitate.

Heeseung takes one step forward, “I was looking for you.”

You tilt your head, your lips pressed together like you’re weighing something in your mind.

Then you take a small step forward.

“And now you’ve found me.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out all at once and rushed, but utterly honest. Honest and heavy, the way it’s been aching in his chest—and he can’t hold it in anymore.

You blink, unmoving.

“I’m so sorry,” Heeseung says again, stepping closer. His voice is steady, gentle, but nervous, scared you won’t believe him. “For everything. For not telling you. For leaving like that. For being a completely fucking idiot about—”

He stops. The look in his eyes is vulnerable, genuine. Longing.

“About this. Us.”

You don’t say anything right away, just watching him carefully.

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh as he realizes he’s about to lay everything out bare.

“I think I was scared,” he admits. “Of what it all meant. Of what you meant to me. I kept telling myself none of it was real, that it didn’t matter. But then I walked out yesterday and, I realized—”

He swallows hard, looking at you and the way your eyes soften with something unreadable.

“It does. You do. So, so much, Y/N.”

Another pause.

Then, you let out a soft exhale, shaking your head, as if something’s finally clicking into place, “I’m sorry too.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows burrow in confusion.

“For not—,” you sigh, your hands now fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. “For not saying something sooner. Because the truth is, I’ve been denying it too. I didn’t even realize how much I—how much you meant to me until I saw you last night and…”

You trail off, your cheeks warming. Then, with a deep inhale, you take another step closer, meeting his gaze from an arm’s length away.

“I was just so angry and upset, but I think…I realized it’s only because I like you, Heeseung. So much.”

Heeseung swears his heart stops. It feels like his whole world has just shifted, and all his thoughts are tangled up in the way you’re looking up at him now.

“And…I should’ve been more understanding,” you add softly. “I shouldn’t have held it against you like you owed me something. I was just hurt, and I didn’t know how to handle it, honestly.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away, not when his thoughts are running wild and his heart is beating like it’s about to fully grow legs and escape.

Then, he exhales a breath of relief.

And lets out a quiet laugh to himself.

You blink at him.

“We’re both idiots,” he says finally, shaking his head softly. 

A small, knowing smile dances on your lips, your eyes locking onto his, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

The tension eases. Just a little.

Heeseung takes a small step closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of you, despite the cold air surrounding you both. 

“So now what?”

You tilt your head as you look up at him, eyes searching his, “Aren’t you supposed to be catching a flight soon?”

Heeseung’s breath hitches.

Because he knows he should say yes.

That’s what’s been planned all along. That’s the reality.

But, for the first time—

He hesitates.

“Maybe."

Your eyes narrow slightly, a playful glare sparking in them, "Maybe?"

Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe."

The warmth in his chest spreads when he sees the way you bite back a smile, the way your weight shifts just the tiniest bit closer—like you're testing the space between you.

Then, you reach into the tote bag slung around your shoulder and pull something out. 

“Here.”

You press a small bottle of coffee milk into his hands.

Heeseung stares at it in his hands.

Then at you.

And you’re looking at him with something gentle—something that makes his chest tighten in the best way possible, something that makes the world feel just a tiny bit warmer.

“Just in case you need a reminder,” you say, your voice light and grounding. “Of what’s normal.”

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and suddenly—everything makes sense. 

The missing piece clicks into place as the static in his mind all fades away, leaving only this—only you. 

You, standing here in front of him, looking at him with that small, steady smile, and Heeseung knows. 

He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

A laugh escapes him before he even realizes it, soft and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, where warmth curls all around it, wrapping around his own heart like a quiet, undeniable truth. His heart races and his fingers tighten around the bottle in his hands—slightly trembling, not from nerves, but from the realization of something so much bigger. Something so much realer. 

And then, without even thinking, he steps forward like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and closes the small space between you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you in, slow but certain, with a gentleness that catches you by surprise. 

You freeze, breath catching, but only for a second. Because then—like a reflex, you melt into him, your own arms tightening around him.

Holding onto him just as much as he’s holding onto you.

Neither of you say anything.

There’s a quiet calm between you two—no need for words, just the rhythm of your heart beating against his own. Steady, calming, like it’s syncing with his, like they’ve always known each other’s pace.

Like they’ve been moving in tandem all along, even when neither of you realized it. 

And in a way, maybe that’s just how it’s always been with you two—balancing on the fine line between pushing and pulling, between sharp words and lingering glances, between pretending you didn’t care, yet feeling everything all at once. 

So easy to cross, so easy to blur, so easy to mistake for something else. 

Maybe you spent all this time thinking you were standing on opposite sides, only to realize you were always moving toward the same place.

And now, as one of his arms moves across your back, the other threading gently through your hair, holding the back of your head against his chest like he never wants to let you go, his heartbeat still steady against yours, you know for certain—

You were never meant to stay on one side. 

You were always meant to cross it. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?

However—

There are three things—three sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.

The first?

Insomnia.

Not by choice, of course.

The second?

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.

Yes, it’s a weird combo. And no, he still doesn’t care.

And the third?

You.

And honestly?

You’re the only one he really needs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it to the end, i'll ship u some extra spicy hellfire ramen & coffee milk rn ! <3 luv u mwahmwahmwah !

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list pt.1 (luv u all):

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

(bolded didn't let me tag, sorry :( )

[kookiestarlight]

Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her. 

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings. 

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.” 

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you. 

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again. 

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime. 

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities. 

A fresh start. 

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl. 

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him. 

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing. 

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter. 

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made it to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention that sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the intrusive thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it. 

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that. 

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there. 

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them. 

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised. 

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so. 

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens. 

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind. 

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over. 

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind. 

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, “God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind. 

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch. 

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be. 

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong. 

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not.  Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him. 

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his. 

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied. 

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else. 

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet? 

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it. 

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck? 

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think  further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast. 

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine. 

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room. 

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat. 

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty. 

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd. 

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread? 

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second. 

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently. 

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears. 

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it. 

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction. 

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do. 

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay. 

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!” 

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice. 

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face. 

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue. 

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

“Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke. 

All of it. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop. 

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now. 

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.” 

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hobi-” 

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late.

You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close. 

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you. 

His home.

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[janiehellion]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Daryl Dixon was a quiet but curious young man—shy, inexperienced, and way more innocent than you’d expect. It was just you, him, and... a vibrator.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Virgin!Daryl Dixon ⋮ Smut ⋮ Language ⋮ Cunnilingus ⋮ Sex Toys ⋮ Mention Of Drugs & Alcohol ⋮ Dub-Con

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.925 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: Pre-Apocalypse AU 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚: @dixongrimesgirl

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

The Chattahoochee was a whole different level of disgusting, even for a bar so close to the deep woods of Georgia. Low ceilings, broken lights, and the smell of piss and beer were present in every corner. Regulars stumbled in every night and day, a lot of them already drunk or high, but most of them?

Both.

It was the kind of place that was sticky no matter how much bleach you poured on it and where you could smell the bad life decisions coming from a mile away.

You worked behind the bar, pouring shots of moonshine and avoiding the greedy touches of men like it was just another part of the job. Which, in a place like this, it practically was. Located in the heart of the most godforsaken area of Georgia, it was the perfect place for the kind of people you’d rather not run into at any time.

Safe to say, Merle Dixon had been hitting on you since day one, coming at you with even worse pickup lines while high on who knows what. He'd lean over the counter, smirking, smelling like alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. "Hey, sugar tits, gimme 'nother," he’d laugh, putting a half-torn dollar on the bar like it was supposed to impress you.

"Watch the damn language, Dixon, or that’ll be your last drink for tonight," you’d answer, not even looking up as you poured him another shot.

"Hey, c'mon now," he’d answer you, "don't be like that. Ya know ya wanna gimme a shot at somethin’ else, don't ya?" He'd grin further, which seemed more lustful than charming, his eyes staring at your tits like they belonged there at all times.

You'd roll your eyes and shove the glass across the bar with a little more force than necessary. "In your damn dreams, Dixon. And keep your damn eyes up here, or I’m gonna rip ‘em outta your damn skull," you’d warn, but not entirely without sarcasm. It wasn’t the first time he behaved like that, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Then there was Daryl, his little brother, always standing or sitting nearby, almost like a shadow, or rather, like someone who didn't belong in a place like that. He wasn’t the type to come up and throw a pickup line at you; hell, he barely spoke at all. Just stood back while Merle tried to flirt with you, as if he was embarrassed to even be there.

You’d catch Daryl looking at you with these sideways glances, his arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for whatever bullshit his brother might do next. Or maybe he was scared, and he just had no clue what to do with a girl who would throw a bottle at someone's head and talk filthier than any man in the bar.

One night, Merle was high on meth that had his pupils blown wide, and he was drunk as always. "Y'know, darlin'," he slurred, leaning far over the bar, "I could make your night real fuckin' interestin’. Got a little somethin' else with me that’ll loosen ya up for some fun." He took out a tiny baggie—powder—white and unmistakable.

"Fuck off, Merle," you said with a smirk. "Go snort that shit somewhere else, where I don’t have to watch your annoying ass. Ain't your damn babysitter." You were used to it, but he was starting to piss you off more than usual. "And don’t even think about offering it to anyone else inside this hellhole. Last thing I need is you getting the whole damn bar high. Do that outside, with those who are probably shitting all over themselves right now."

Meanwhile, Daryl was sitting on a stool nearby, again, his eyes looking from you to his brother. You couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable he looked, the way he watched Merle and every other person around. There was always something different about him—he was quieter, more... soft. The kind of guy who stood back and kept his head down.

"Leave 'er 'lone, Merle," Daryl mumbled, more to himself than to his brother. But he seemed to be sick of the whole scene. Not that Merle ever listened, or would ever listen to him.

No, Merle just rolled his eyes before shoving the baggie back into his pocket, not even looking in the direction of his brother, keeping his focus only on you... and your tits. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just tryin’ to show ya a good time for once." He grabbed his drink and stumbled off, probably to piss in a bush outside, and you were left with Daryl, who still just sat there.

Some time later, you grabbed a dirty rag and started wiping the bar down, side-eyeing him. "You gonna say somethin’, or just keep sittin' there?" You teased, soon throwing the rag under the counter and pouring him another drink.

He shrugged, looking away, clearly not sure what to do with himself. "Ain’t like I could stop him if he tried anythin’," he mumbled, looking down into his glass.

"If he tried, he'd go home without his dick. Not that it'd make much of a difference for him," you said back, smirking at him and trying to get him to loosen up a bit. "You come here just to watch me shut him down every night?"

It was a half-serious question, but you knew the answer. Daryl wasn’t like the other assholes—he didn’t hit on you, didn’t try to grab your ass or tits when you passed by, and never once called you some stupid nickname like sugar tits.

"I… jus' end up 'ere," he said awkwardly, his fingers tapping down on the counter. "Ain’t got much else to do."

"Well, at least you’re not tryin’ to snort coke off my tits or ass," you answered, making him go red in the face.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat, and you couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable.

"You know, since you come here enough, Dixon 2.0," you continued, "might as well help me close up sometime and throw the rest of these assholes outta here. Would get you a drink on the house."

It was just a passing suggestion, a simple idea, but his eyes looked up, like he was considering it, and for once, he actually looked into yours. Not in that drooling, perverted way his older brother did, but with curiosity. "Maybe," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dunno."

"You know what? Just think about it."

And so, the routine went on. Merle would walk in, and Daryl would sit nearby, quietly sipping his own drink while keeping an eye on his brother. And secretly, on you.

Tonight, though? Tonight was different. Somehow, you’d gotten him here, in your home, alone, without Merle, who was probably stinking of booze and piss all over again somewhere. His brother must have gotten his hands on something strong, or whatever it was, it gave you the perfect excuse.

You’d leaned in close while Daryl was mumbling about his brother and told him he should come over; maybe help you with something, and you told him it was important. You hadn’t even needed to lie all that much—he’d just nodded, eyes wide and nervous, and here he was, following you home like a little boy.

When he got to your place, he just stood there, all tense, and moving from one foot to the other like he didn’t know where to put himself. And you—well, you liked watching him squirm and being nervous, knowing well you were the one making him feel like that.

Daryl wasn’t even in the door for five seconds before you threw your bag on the floor, walking inside without saying anything else. No pretenses, no "make yourself at home." You didn’t bother with shit like that. If he was here, he was here on your terms, and you weren’t about to treat him like a guest.

"C’mon in," you said, standing next to the door to finally close it.

You saw him gulp, eyes looking around like he was searching for a quick exit he could use just in case, but finding nothing but trouble. So he nodded, stepping in, his shoulders hunched as he stood there, awkward as hell. Every inch of him screamed that he was nervous, but he didn’t run, not yet. You liked that about him. Quiet, sure, but still stubborn.

Meanwhile, your place was kind of a mess, clothes lying around, bottles on the tables—some empty, some half-full. A few were left over from last week, but hell, you weren’t cleaning for anybody, especially not for him. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, though; if anything, he looked like he was trying hard not to stare around too much, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, his face all red once more, while you kicked off those awful heels that made your feet ache.

"Go on and sit down in my room," you said over your shoulder as you turned around, smirking as you heard his quiet huff. "I'm gonna get outta these damn clothes and put on something more comfortable."

"'Kay," he muttered and nodded again, sounding like he’d swallowed his own tongue.

Once in the bathroom, you pulled off the way too tight top and short skirt in the bathroom, letting yourself breathe for once. That outfit was a real curse; your bra always felt as if it was pushing your tits all the way up to your chin, but it kept the tips flowing, so you kept wearing those clothes.

But tonight? You’d rather die than let Daryl see you in it for too long. Poor boy was already chewing the inside of his mouth and choking on his own words like he might say the wrong thing and die on the spot.

But what you didn't know was that the second you went away to change your clothes, Daryl’s hands started twitching, like his body was on alert between curiosity and unease. A few of your clothes were tossed across the bed, smelling like that bar you worked at—smoke, sweat, and alcohol. It all felt like a place he shouldn’t be at, but here he was, sitting down on your bed and touching your clothes to shove them aside.

He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just trying to figure you out as he sat there nervously. Hell, you were already a mystery to him—a tough girl working in a bar where skirts and shorts barely covered what they ought to and heels high enough to bring any man to his knees.

So here he was, and his mind started running wild, wondering if every woman’s place was like this—half-dirty, with clothes tossed around, magazines piled up, and so much more.

Then his eyes landed on a big box sitting half-shoved under your bed, an open corner poking out like it had been forgotten as his foot bumped against it. He should’ve left it alone, but there was that itch, like he couldn’t look away. Daryl crouched down, sitting down on the floor, his fingers fumbling with the top until it opened up. His eyes went wide, lips parting as he looked inside.

It was filled with... things. Smooth, soft, strange-looking things in different shapes and colors, each one making him more confused than the last.

"What's this stuff?" He whispered, eyes squinting as he picked up a small pink thing with a rounded end. It fit in his hand, smooth but with some weight to it. "This for her... work?" He mumbled, rolling it over in his hand like it might magically turn into something he recognized. Maybe it was a tool, or even one of those weird bar gadgets he didn’t know about.

Another catch of something sparkly and soft shoved down in there made his heart beat faster, and before he knew it, he was pulling out more—the things looking weirder by the second. There was a wand-looking thing, and he held it like it might explode, wondering what the hell you were doing with all this.

"Drugs? Gotta be for drugs," he muttered, frowning as he inspected the box. Could be some kind of injector, maybe? He knew about that stuff—the guys that Merle met sometimes, passing around different things for the good times. But nothing here made sense, and there wasn't any instruction manual in sight.

He looked around like you’d come back any second and catch him, heat burning inside of him as he thought about what this meant. Were you hiding something? Was it… Was it for some kind of secret thing you did when no one was around?

"Damn it, what’re ya up to?" He said, biting his lip, his hand brushing over the surface of the smooth, strange thing, feeling his pulse race at the thought that you did know exactly what these were for.

And yet he didn’t. Not a damn clue.

"Hell’s this?"

He felt a cord between his fingers, pulling it slightly, as if tugging on it might magically make it make sense. Maybe it was for listening to music? But it had no sound, and no little earbuds or anything that he could see.

Setting that one down, he picked up another—an oblong thing with ridges along one side. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there was nowhere for the light to shine from. He pressed his thumb over it, turning it this way and that, but nothing happened.

"What the hell?" It had to be for something specific. You wouldn’t just have random stuff lying around like this for no reason, would you?

Then he found another, rounder one, with a strange little button on the side. He pressed it, flinching a bit when it buzzed all of a sudden. The damn thing nearly jumped out of his hand, and he held it tight to stop the vibrations.

"Damn thing’s possessed," he nearly yelled, feeling his cheeks burn. It felt... weird. Too weird.

And you? You had barely slipped into the bathroom, taking off your work clothes and enjoying the idea of how Daryl would squirm alone for a moment in your bedroom. The way he’d stumbled his way in earlier, not wanting to make eye contact like he didn’t know what to do with his own hands? It was almost way too easy to tease him.

And there he was, practically glowing red, sitting next to the box you kept under the bed. A simple big box—hell, he was behaving so cautiously, like he’d just discovered a bomb or a dead body. But what really caught you was the thing in his hand. A vibrator.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me," you whispered, loud enough for him to hear. His head moved up, eyes wide as if he’d just been caught robbing a bank.

"Shit!" The vibrator fell out of his hand, hitting the floor, but that was only the start; the thing started buzzing further—vibrating across the floor and right toward your feet. Daryl didn’t move; he didn’t even reach for it. He just sat there, staring at the buzzing vibrator like it was going to bite him.

"Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ with my stuff?" You asked, half-amused, half-teasing, waiting to see what half-assed excuse he’d come up with, as you leaned against the door frame. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out at first.

"I… uh—" he stammered, swallowing loudly, his hands fidgeting like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. "I thought… I mean—thought it was, like, stuff for..." His voice trailed off, eyes looking to the ground, too ashamed to meet yours.

"Yeah? Stuff for what?" You pressed further, stepping forward, taking the vibrator and turning it off, stopping the noise but not the look of pure mortification on his face.

"I… thought it might be, y'know... Maybe it was, uh, y’know, things for... for bar stuff, or somethin’. Yer work." His voice was quiet, like he might get in trouble just for saying it out loud.

"For work?" You laughed and crouched down to sit next to him. "Yeah, Daryl, because every bartender needs a vibrator in her kit. So… You wanna tell me why you’re snooping, or am I just supposed to guess?"

You reached over, brushing a hand along the edge of your toy box, taking in the way his eyes tried to look at each item inside. Poor boy had no clue what half of it was for, but he looked at everything like it might burn him.

"Am sorry! I wasn’t… Jus'… waitin’ on ya an' got curious, I guess," he murmured. "Didn’t mean nothin’ by it."

You leaned in closer, enough that he could probably feel your breath on his face. "Curious, huh?" You asked, eyeing the way his shoulders tensed up. "You don't know what that stuff is?"

"Uh…" He blinked, looking between you and the vibrator like it might suddenly start buzzing again. "Not… really. No."

"Oh, you really don’t?" You pretended to be surprised. "It’s a toy, Dixon. A fun toy. For women. And men sometimes as well."

"That for real?" He asked, voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

"As real as it gets, sweetheart. And judging by that look on your face, I’d bet you don’t have much experience with this sorta things." You raised an eyebrow, daring him to admit it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes dropping back to the floor. "Ain’t never… really..." He trailed off, his whole face full of embarrassment.

"Never what?" You asked, leaning in so close you could smell the cigarettes and sweat on him, and somehow, it drove you wild. "Fucked a woman? Or even fucked yourself, huh?"

"I—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, a sound that told you everything you needed to know. "I don’t… don’t really know… how… t'do any of that."

"Oh, honey." You leaned back a little. "You look like you’re about ready to pass out."

Daryl trembled, trying to look anywhere but at you, his whole face burning. "I—I jus'… I dunno what to do with... all that," he continued, motioning awkwardly toward the box.

You smirked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Guess no one’s shown you how a woman uses one of these before, huh?" You watched his reaction, loving every little deep breath he took and every embarrassed flinch.

"N-no… But what if... maybe they could've been... for, uh, drugs?" His face somehow went even more red, and he looked ready to sink into the floor.

"Drugs? What, you think I’m hiding some kind of dealer setup in my own bedroom? And especially right under my damn bed?" You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "Trust me, they’ll get you high, alright—but not the way you’re thinkin’."

The embarrassment on his face was almost painful to watch as he shifted on the ground. "Like I said, I—I don't... Ain’t never done stuff like that before, okay? I—I mean, I done that with myself... sometimes. But not really... okay?"

You smiled, letting your fingers move over his, watching as his breath stopped, his eyes looking up to meet yours for a desperate second. "Well," you murmured, "maybe I could show you a thing or two. If you’re up for it, that is."

Daryl swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he glanced between you and the box again. He indeed looked like he was about to pass out, but he seemed curious—curious in a way that he couldn’t quite hide.

"Oh, c'mon, I know you want to," you whispered, clicking your tongue, standing up, and taking off your shirt slowly. His eyes looked up fast, staring at you, and he shifted on the spot, pressing his thighs together. That’s when you noticed the growing bulge in his pants—it was more than obvious he was already hard as a rock.

"Damn, Dixon," you chuckled, "you’ve got a real problem, don’t you?" You let your shirt fall down to the floor. "Hey, don’t just sit there looking lost—c’mon, no way you're that scared of undressing a woman!"

He stammered something, some half-strangled "n-no," his hands gripping his own thighs like he had to hold himself back from reaching for you. That only spurred you on, raising your brows as you grabbed him to stand up and guiding his trembling hands to the hem of your pants.

"Well, here’s your chance," you smirked, waiting for him to open the button. You watched his fingers fumble with it, shaking as he pulled down the zipper, and then, when he managed to pull your pants down over your hips along with your panties, his eyes widened like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

"Keep goin’, don't be shy," you whispered, guiding his fingers down your thighs until your clothes hit the floor.

He just stood there, staring, mouth opening like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next. You leaned in close, eyes locked on his, before you knelt down again and took the vibrator out of the box once more, pressing the button and letting it hum.

His eyes shot to the toy, watching with pure terror and fascination, and when you pressed it into his hand again, he held it like some foreign, sacred object he was too scared to break.

"Here," you mumbled, laying down onto the bed, legs spread just enough to give him a view he couldn’t tear himself away from even if he tried, before you pulled him next to you and guided his hand between your legs, pressing the vibrator to your thigh and dragging it higher. "Just like that, Daryl. Feels interesting, doesn’t it?"

Daryl could barely breathe, staring down as if hypnotized, the muscles in his whole body tensing up. When you moved his hand to press the vibrator against your pussy, you felt him stiffen, his other hand gripping his thigh to stop himself from trembling. The toy was vibrating against you, and you let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, glancing up just in time to see the way his eyes stayed on you, watching every little twitch and shiver of your body.

"I bet you’re a quick learner," you teased, reaching down to guide his hand again, moving it with the toy so it hit just right, and damn, if it didn’t feel good. His mouth fell open a little, and he sucked in a breath when you suddenly moaned, pressing yourself harder against the vibrator. His hand moved a bit awkwardly, like he didn’t quite know if he was supposed to be touching you this way, but the look in his eyes said he wanted to keep going more than anything.

You let out another moan, a little louder this time, just to see the way he reacted. His grip on the toy tightened, and you didn’t miss the way he was fighting with himself, clearly struggling to keep himself in check as his cock pressed harder against his pants, his breath coming out faster and shorter.

"Poor thing," you whispered, pulling his hand away for a moment, just to watch him struggle. "Bet you’ve never been this hard, huh?" Daryl's eyes looked at you, wide and mortified, like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But the look he gave you—so desperate, so needy—only made you want to push him further.

"You wanna see what this thing can do to me?" You asked, not giving him time to answer as you pressed the vibrator into his hand again and guided it back between your legs. "Just keep it steady, like that. Right there." You rocked your hips against it, letting out a shaky breath as the lust built itself up inside of you, still watching as he clung to every little sound that left your lips.

Daryl's eyes were glued to you, his mouth open, and you noticed the way he kept moving his hips, trying to get rid of his hard-on. But no matter how much he squirmed, it wasn’t enough. He was near leaking through his pants by now, his cock being so hard he couldn’t think straight, and the sight of you practically coming undone in front of him had him on the edge himself.

"Feels good, doesn’t it, Dixon? But... don't you want to feel that too?" You taunted, moving your fingers along his wrist, pushing him to press harder and the toy just a tiny bit into you, wanting to let him feel every little tremor that wracked your body. He just nodded, lost for words, breathing hard, his eyes moving between your face and the way your hips bucked against his hand.

"Keep going, just like that," you urged, and he obeyed, pressing the vibrator a little harder, his other hand softly brushing against your thigh as if he needed something to hold onto to keep himself from falling apart. His face was so close now, so flushed, eyes wide with need, lips parted as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"Y’know, Daryl," you moaned, "you’re doing a hell of a job for someone who’s never touched a woman before, not even with toys." His face burned, but he kept going, kept pressing that toy against your pussy, completely mesmerized by the way you reacted.

"You like watching me, don’t you?" You murmured, letting out another moan that left him swallowing hard. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed... that you can’t keep your eyes off me and how damn hard you are."

He tried to come up with a response, something about "I... I didn’t mean to..." but his words trailed off, and he was just there, helpless, utterly at your mercy, his hand tightening on the toy as you let out one last moan that left him breathless and staring, before you snatched the vibrator from him and clicked it off.

The little tremor it left in his hand was nothing compared to the way he stared at you now, still holding onto that last bit of control.

"Think you can do it without help?" You asked, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to your pussy and to make him feel how wet you were, his fingers twitching as they moved along your folds. Daryl nodded but was holding on for dear life and trying not to slip.

"I... I dunno," he mumbled, eyes glued to your pussy.

"Oh, for the love of... here," you growled, placing your hand over his, guiding his touch lower, rougher, until you dragged his fingers exactly where you wanted them. But Daryl was a mess, barely holding himself together, his other hand still clamped over that hard bulge in his pants as he lay there beside you.

"Now, watch closely," you instructed, pressing his fingers just the way you liked it. "Doesn’t take much, does it?" You smiled, letting your free hand move down his chest, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. "Bet you’d come just feeling me touch you."

He whimpered, the outline of his cock pulsing through his pants, a wet spot already forming itself. It didn’t take much to notice the hesitation in his every move, making him so easy to toy with.

You leaned back a little, pushing your tits forward. "Go on and position yourself over me," you dared, and as soon as he did, you lifted his other hand from his bulge to your tits, watching as he sucked in a breath, his hand shaking as if he were holding something he had no right to touch. "Ever felt these before?"

Daryl shook his head, still wide-eyed, his eyes looking into yours for a second before dropping back down, like he was afraid to look too long.

"Then make the most of it." You reached down, pressing his other hand harder against you. "I want you to use that mouth of yours now," you smirked, pushing him down to press his lips against your nipples. His breath was warm and shaky, and he hesitated, his mouth just an inch away from you. You raised an eyebrow, daring him, and after a long, deep breath, he finally leaned in.

"That's a good boy," you praised, your fingers running through his hair, feeling him shiver under your touch. He was so damn easy to play with, each little whimper and moan only turning you on more, urging him to suck and lick, his tongue slow but eager, desperate for more.

"Gently," you ordered, glancing down to see him lose himself, his hands now touching you like he didn’t want to let go. The poor guy was panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucked and kissed your nipple, as if the sight alone would push him over the edge.

You soon moved your hand down, feeling the outline of his cock through his pants, feeling him flinch, his breath stopping as you gave him just a bit of what he wanted. "This what you want, Daryl?" You whispered, teasing him and squeezing his shaft just enough to make him groan, his hips bucking, desperate for more. "You do, don't you? But now, I want you to eat me out."

Daryl couldn’t even get out a response, his mouth still on your nipple, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

"Pathetic, but also really cute," you laughed, unzipping his pants just enough to reach inside, your fingers wrapping around his cock and making him gasp, his whole body tensing as you squeezed him. He was thick, hard, already wet from the pre-cum that leaked from his tip, and the way he moaned, quite high, only made you want to drag it out and tease him until he was begging to come.

As you quickly positioned yourself over his face, you could see how he was a nervous wreck the moment your ass hovered above him. "Oh, please, don’t just lay there. Get to work," you teased, lowering yourself down, your pussy brushing against his lips.

When he finally opened his mouth, it was like you flipped a switch. The moment your folds hit his tongue, he moaned, the sound muffled against you. It sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but grind against his face, pushing him harder against you.

"God, you’re a natural," you gasped, encouraging him with your hips. "Just like that, baby. Don’t be shy; use your tongue."

Daryl’s mouth worked hesitantly at first, but the more you ground down, the more confident he became. His face was buried in your pussy, the taste of you driving him wild as he licked and sucked, trying to figure out what made you feel good, and the way he looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and lust, only made you want to ride his face harder.

"Yeah, keep going," you panted, feeling your legs tremble as he finally got into a rhythm. "Good boy, just like that," you moaned, feeling the tension building inside you. He was so focused, so eager to please, and the way he hungrily licked and sucked made you see stars.

"Don’t stop, Daryl. I’m so close," you urged. "Yeah, that’s it," you moaned, pushing your hips down even harder. "Don’t you dare stop. Just like that—yes!"

The way he held your thighs, trying to hold you against him, and the way he whimpered against you—those sweet little sounds pushed you right over. "I’m cumming! Fuck!"

Your body tensed, and you ground down harder again, shaking and feeling him groan against your dripping pussy as you let go and came, completely lost in the moment.

You felt him drink it all in, and you knew he was just as lost as you were. The second you pushed yourself off his face and watched him, face red and lips parted, you could tell Daryl had no idea what to do with himself. Wide-eyed and panting, he lay there as if you’d just dragged him straight into some fever dream he wasn’t even ready for. He seemed so helpless as he tried to piece together the storm of feelings that’d just hit him.

"Still with me, Daryl?" You asked, letting your weight push him further into the bed. His eyes looked down between your legs, then looked away, like he didn’t have the courage to watch.

"Y-yeah…"

He shuddered, that helpless little whine slipping out as you leaned down, your mouth right over his. He was as stiff as a board beneath you, looking both horrified and desperately curious at the same time.

"Think you can handle more of this?" You whispered, one hand moving down and wrapping around his cock as you took it fully out of his pants.

"W-wait," he stammered, trying to close his legs in a last attempt to get some space, but you only held him tighter, giving his cock a slow, teasing stroke. It twitched in your hand, leaking all over your fingers like he couldn’t stop himself.

"Sweetie, look at you," you smiled, swirling a finger over the tip, just to watch him jerk, hips lifting up like he was begging. "So needy aren't we?"

Daryl let out another whimper, his face going beet-red, those shy eyes looking away once more as though if he didn’t look at you, he’d somehow be less mortified.

"Feels so good, huh?"

His whole body was practically trembling with need, and he was leaking—a lot. His cock throbbed in your hand, pre-cum dripping so much it smeared along your fingers.

"Damn, Daryl," you whispered, smirking as your fingers now teased along the underside of his cock. "Didn’t know you’d be this easy, really."

You soon leaned down, your mouth just over his cock; the slightest lick of your tongue along his tip pushed another bit of pre-cum out, and you couldn’t help but laugh, loving every bit of his need.

"Baby, look at you, leaking everywhere," you teased again, wiping the tip with your thumb before bringing it to your lips, licking off the taste. Just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly before leaning up to kiss him, letting him taste himself on your lips.

It made him moan again, his hands reaching out to grip your body as if needing to ground himself. "P-please…" He whispered, but you didn’t give in just yet.

Instead, you reached down, grabbing your vibrator again. You saw the way his eyes narrowed, with pure nervousness all over his face, as you suddenly pressed the toy to his cock, starting at the lowest setting. The buzzing made him gasp, his hips jerking involuntarily against you as you dragged the vibrator along his shaft, right along that sensitive spot just under the head. Every time it brushed up and down, he leaked more against your hand, only making it messier.

"Oh s-shit…" He whimpered, sounding utterly wrecked.

With a smirk, you leaned back and held up the vibrator for him to see, his eyes following it, dazed, and lips parted. "I think that’s enough; otherwise you might explode on the spot," you said, watching his expression drop just slightly as he looked at you switching it off and tossing it back into your toy box all of a sudden.

Leaning up, you gave his lips a slow, lazy kiss, feeling him melt against you, even more needy when you pulled away and slipped back down. And damn if he didn’t start leaking more, a fresh drop of slick pre-cum glistening right there, just begging to be tasted.

"How sweet you are, Daryl," you murmured, slowly moving your tongue along the underside of his cock, not missing the way his hips jerked up instinctively, even though he didn't seem to understand why. One gentle lick. That’s all it took for him to be close again, and he was helpless against it.

"Just relax and enjoy it," you continued, letting your tongue move along the tip of his cock and the desperate little gasp of his driving you wild as he grabbed the sheets, practically sobbing as he tried to hold back.

You wrapped your lips around just the head, barely enough to count as anything. But to him? It was like fireworks going off.

"N-no, I—oh fuck, I can’t—" He breathed out as his head fell back, his body shivering under you.

And when you took him just that tiny bit deeper, that was it—he lost it. Hard. He tried to hold it, tried to push you back even, one hand weakly pressing against your head, but he was already too far gone. The orgasm tore through Daryl, overpowering him completely.

His whole body stiffened, a helpless cry coming from his throat as he finally lost it, filling your mouth with his cum as he came. Before he even had time to process it, you’d swallowed every last drop from his throbbing cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you looked back up at him.

He was still shaking, his mind clearly blown, and when he finally managed to look at you, it was with that same wide-eyed shock.

Daryl just lay there, still in shock, his body trembling as reality sank in. "D-did ya really jus'—" His voice cracked with disbelief all over his face as he tried to wrap his head around what just happened.

You smirked at him, leaning in close, your lips moving softly against his in a teasing kiss. "What’s the matter, sweet boy? Never had someone swallow your cum before?"

He quickly shook his head. "I—I thought ya might get pregnan' or somethin'!" He stammered in embarrassment, his mind racing with the wildest thoughts.

"Oh, cutie. You really think it’s that easy? I'm sorry, but that's not how it works," you laughed, nudging his arm, enjoying the way his shoulders tensed up like he was trying to hide from you. "What? Can’t even look me in the eye after that?"

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he thought he might stammer out just died right there, and his hand went up to scratch the back of his neck.

"I... I didn’ mean to..." he finally managed to say, his voice cracking in the middle, his face still as red as a tomato.

You raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t mean to what? Coming in record time?" You let out a sarcastic scoff, and he near cried, ducking his head as though it would save him.

"I-I dunno, I thought... I jus', I mean—" he stumbled over each word. "Jus' ain’t never been with... y’know, anyone... like that."

"No kidding," you replied dryly, watching him shrink even smaller, if that was possible. "Anyone coulda guessed that, by the way, you freaked the hell out." He winced at your words, but hell, it just made him look all the more adorable, laying there.

When you placed a hand on his thigh, he went stiff as a board all over. "Easy, Daryl," you murmured. "No one’s laughing at you... much."

"I-I’m... sorry," he mumbled again.

"Sorry?" You scoffed, tilting his chin up to force his eyes to look at you. "For what? That you came too soon, or that you actually loved it?"

He tried to look away, but your fingers held him in place. "Both, I reckon," he answered, his voice shaking. It was like he thought he’d done something wrong, like he needed to apologize for being human.

"Nothing wrong with it, Dixon. Means I sure as hell did it right." You laughed, running a thumb over his jawline as he stared back at you.

"Bet that head of yours is just spinning right now, ain’t it?" You said, half-mocking. "Poor, sweet Daryl, don’t know what to do with himself now."

It was easy to see what he still needed—what he wanted, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it. You didn’t have to guess, though. He was desperate for something more, desperate for you to just tell him what to do. It was obvious that he had no experience with women or anything like this, but it didn’t matter to you. If anything, it just made it better. You wanted him nervous.

"Hey," you said softly. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Not at all." You could see that he wanted to apologize again, wanting to make up for how pathetic he felt.

"Tell you what," you said, kissing his cheek. "You’ve got a lot to learn, Daryl Dixon. But I think you’re gonna like it. You just need to stop worrying." His hands moved to your waist, but they were hesitant, unsure. "And me? Well, I’m not here to judge you."

You took his hands and placed them back on your body, guiding him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate much, but it seemed as if he was trying to copy the way you had guided him earlier, trying to find some way to make up for what had happened. But that, for now, was enough.

"Don’t worry," you said, grinning at him, "I’m going to teach you."

Because you would. And he had no choice. Maybe that was what you liked most. The way Daryl needed you now, the way he didn’t even know what he wanted, but he was willing to follow you with your help along the way.

And he was only going to fall deeper.

[alienssstufff]

very important > thoughts on tangdubs

love them fr

[bunniotomia]

Hello fellow Batfam enjoyers.

I have a story idea that I want to leave open for anyone to use and it’d be batfam x neglected reader in an infected au.

I made a long ass post that was 90% rambling and 10% the actual idea and even the og story idea I had. It’s messy but I needed everything out.

Point being of anyone wants to write it please do. I’d love to see it come to life.

It’s a neglected reader that had enough and ran away from the manor at 16. She had started planning her departure 2 years before after a bad argument and knew she needed time to find somewhere else to live and cover her tracks after all her family are vigilantes and she believes they’d track her down only because she knows their identities. But she also thought she’d have lots of time before they realized she was gone.

The original plan was to linger in Gotham until she turned 18 and could legally change her last name and thus be completely free to do as she pleased. However the day after she settled into the abandoned warehouse she turned into a reinforced condo, the apocalypse kicked off.

There had been an infection of some sort going around but it wasn’t serious until then. So much so that the league can’t risk themselves due to reports of infected metas being able to use their abilities still and they already lost contact with some hero’s.

So Bruce calls the Batfam to the manor, which is reinforced and on its on power and water grid due to his paranoia long ago when he decided to be Batman. All the kids are home and arguing about whether or not they should be out there helping a dying world. Bruce has done many a headcount but all his children are there, are safe. None are still out on the streets. The house is reinforced to survive a lot. They’re all trained and have been checked. And yet that same paranoia is screaming. He’s forgotten, something important. What is it?

[smileysuh]

penance

🌙 staring. Cheol & Jeonghan & Joshua & Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex, orgies, 3some, 4some, 6some, creampies/filling kink, cum play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, fucking in weird places (a tank & church & outside & bathrooms), multiple sex scenes, choking, rough handling, manhandling, blow jobs, deep throating, oral, squirting, anal, double penetration, triple penetration, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, sir kink, powerplay, free use subthemes, getting horny during confession, sins: lust/greed, fingering, sex as punishment/penance, jealousy, dubious consent/inclusion of a new person, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, finger sucking, spanking, spitting, etc... I pet names: (hers) baby, beautiful princess, kitten, whore/slut, good girl, dirty girl, etc. (cheol's) sir. (gyu's) puppy. (others) etc...

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 21.2k

🍭 aus. zombie apocalypse au, poly au, military!cheol/hannie/gyu/wonwoo, priest!Joshua, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. so... uh. I watched Sweet Home season 2 and the military men had me hornier than usual.

Prologue:

It’s been one week since you arrived at the prison compound. One week since you almost died, only to be saved by a group of four of the sexiest men you’d ever seen. They’d stormed into the grocery store you’d been cornered in, killed the three zombies who’d been attacking you, and offered you refuge at one of the few fortified locations for survivors in the area. 

You’d heard about a prison with militiamen protecting it, but you’d never thought it was real. Since the supposed ‘apocalypse,’ lies have become much too common, and part of you had always been scared to hope for something like normalcy ever again. 

Sure, the prison isn’t exactly normal. Sleeping in a cell and carrying out daily tasks like tending to the garden outside or helping with food ration prep isn’t how you’d pictured your life turning out, but to be fair, when zombies began terrorizing the globe, you hadn’t envisioned much of a future for yourself.

Every day you spend surviving is a day past your expiration date, so you take it as it comes. 

To top it all off, the hierarchy of this new place is something you’re getting used to. 

The militiamen generally keep to themselves in the barracks section, but you catch glimpses of them heading out every few days in their trucks while you do menial tasks around the prison yard. 

For the most part, the surviving citizens have formed a mock democracy, a counsel that determines tasks and deals with small-time disputes between survivors. Everyone is pulling their weight in one way or another, but people are kind to each other, and it’s taken some getting used to. 

Your job today involves handing out rations for dinner. The militia had found a warehouse somewhere in the vicinity with a large amount of instant ramen, so morale is quite high as you serve survivors a hot meal. 

You’re still getting the hang of faces and names, but one person stands out as he patiently waits in line. His dark outfit - complete with the white ‘Roman collar’ around his neck - distinguishes him as the priest who tends to the on-grounds chapel. You’ve heard good things about his services, about the way he uplifts spirits and keeps people’s faith, but you’ve yet to go to any of his speaking engagements. 

He’s a handsome man, and you offer him a small smile when he’s finally standing in front of you. “Hello, Father.”

“It’s Joshua,” he corrects you, with a soft grin of his own. “You must be new here.”

You tell him your name, and explain that you arrived last week. He listens with an expression filled with understanding, and you realize his easy countenance must be one of the reasons people like this priest so much. Although he’s a spiritual advisor to the democracy counsel, he doesn’t act like a few of the more entitled circle members do. 

“Thank God we were able to find you,” Joshua muses, when you reveal that you’d been near death at the time of your saving. “I’ve found that, in a situation like this, it’s always the innocent who are first to be trampled over.”

You’re not sure how spiritually innocent you are, but you understand that he might be coming from an angle of women and children being those who are pure. The ratio of male survivors to women and children is four to one in the prison, and it’s definitely been something that made you uneasy about this place when you first arrived.

“Thank God,” you repeat respectfully. 

Joshua’s smile widens for a moment, then he nods. “Please know that the church on the northeast part of the grounds is open to everyone. If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here for you.”

“Thank you, Father.” 

This time, he doesn’t correct you on his name, he simply nods, continuing down the food line. 

You’re doing your best to keep yourself in check. You’ve not been around this many handsome men since the initial outbreak, and you feel like a starving dog who’s finally seen an abundance of food. Not only is the priest hot, and the militiamen as well, but many of the survivors here are quite attractive in their own unique way.

Hansol is the quiet man who’d been assigned to show you around. He tends the garden outside with you, and you’ve come to enjoy the way the sunlight hits his striking features. 

Seokmin works in the kitchen, and you’ve spent hours organizing boxes of food with him. You enjoy the smiles he always sends your way, he makes you forget that you’re in a prison with a zombie infestation just outside the compound's high walls. 

Then there’s Soonyoung, a rambunctious survivor who is always vocalizing the needs of others at circle meetings, much to the dismay of counselman Seungkwan, who fancies himself a clear mouthpiece of the people. 

It’s the end of the dinner rush and you’re lost in thought about your new life in the prison when you notice a familiar person standing in front of you. Jeonghan had been amongst the unit that saved you, and he offers you a large grin. “Hi, new girl.”

“Hi,” you say, feeling a little stupid with yourself as the word slips out. It’s hard to focus on speaking with the beautiful man standing in front of you. He’s dressed in his camo pants and a white tanktop, dog tags dangling from his neck. 

“How are you liking this place?” Jeonghan asks. 

“I’m very happy to be here,” you respond quickly. You’re not sure you trust the prison or its inhabitants yet, but, you are grateful to have a safe place to rest at night. 

“Good, it looks like you’re settling in.” The militiaman’s eyes scan you up and down. “We haven’t had a chance to talk to you since we brought you here, the Z1 unit was wondering if you were okay.”

There are a handful of units that protect the prison. As far as you can tell, the Z in front of their unit numbers stands for Zombie, but it’s not something you’ve been able to confirm. 

“Anyways,” Jeonghan continues, “it’s the end of the rush, how about you clock out and come eat with me?”

You notice Seokmin shifting on the food line next to you, and he casts you a weary look. 

“I’m not sure I can clock out,” you admit.

“It will be fine,” Jeonghan assures you, waving his hand. “Actually, now that I think about it, I should grab food for the others too, and you can’t expect me to hold all the trays, right?” 

You look to Seokmin for guidance, and he lets out a small sigh, nodding. “You can help him bring the food to the barracks.” 

A few minutes later, you’re standing in the food line with Jeonghan.  “I didn’t realize the units eat the same stuff as the rest of us,” you muse, watching Seokmin pile a larger-than-normal ration of instant ramen onto each of Jeonghan’s four trays.

“We normally don’t,” Jeonghan admits. “The barracks have a stash of military-grade food, but Z1 has a taste for this type of shit.” 

“Lucky that you found a whole stash of it.”

“We’ve been very lucky lately,” the militiaman grins. “Found you too.”

“I wanted to thank you again-”

“There’s no need,” Jeonghan waves his hand. “Duty this, and duty that, and all that jazz.”

“Still, I appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate you helping me with the trays. There, we’re even.”

He’d been quite easygoing when he’d first rescued you- well, as easygoing as you suppose a military man could be during a zombie apocalypse, and you’re pleasantly surprised that his carefree countenance has continued.  

As you finish getting your plates full, Seokmin comes out from the line, looking at Jeonghan, then at you. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Don’t be so jumpy, Seokmin,” Jeonghan laughs. “She can’t bring the food all the way to the barracks and then not eat anything. I’ll make sure she’s well fed, and I’ll send her back when we’re done with her.”

There’s something slightly ominous about his choice of words, and your skin heats at the idea of eating with the entire Z1 unit. 

You? In a room with your four hot saviors? 

Your stomach twists at the mere thought.

“Are you sure I can’t help you with the trays?” Seokmin suggests, his eyes finding you.

“Nah, she’s got it,” Jeonghan brushes your friend off. “Besides, you know that Cheol likes to talk to all the new survivors that show up on base. We gotta fill out a little detail sheet and give it to the head councilman so that everyone is accounted for, or did you forget that that’s one of our duties?”

Seokmin lets out a small sigh, and with one final nod, he allows Jeonghan to lead you from the cafeteria. 

The prison is like a maze, even though you’ve seen a map, you still find yourself getting lost with some frequency. Jeonghan, in contrast, has no problems navigating the dull, dimly lit halls.

“How long have you been here?” you ask.

“Since near the start of the outbreak,” Jeonghan responds casually. “Before all the cell phone towers went down, the government started sending teams into prisons to clear them out. I guess the thought was that compounds like this one would be good bases to survive the apocalypse. Communications between us and the big bosses got cut, the group of officials that were supposed to arrive for sanctuary never did- then survivors started popping up, so now here we are.”

You stay quiet, and Jeonghan looks over at you.

“Where were you before this place?” he asks.

“Never in one place for very long,” you admit. “There was a group of survivors at a large shopping center, but it wasn’t fortified like this place. Was only there a month before things got bad.” 

Jeonghan nods sympathetically. “Well, the prison isn’t gonna be breached anytime soon. You can rest easy now.”

You continue walking, with Jeonghan asking you surface-level questions about what jobs you’re being assigned to, what friends you’ve made. It feels nice to be talking to someone casually again, and if the conversation wasn’t so based on the situation at hand, you think you might actually be able to forget about the apocalypse entirely while with Jeonghan. 

As you arrive at the barracks wing, you have to walk past a few militiamen rooms before making it to the Z1 section at the end of the hall. As you pass, holding trays of instant ramen, you notice members of Z2 watching you. 

Seokmin had explained to you a few details about Z2, more specifically its unit leader, a short but beefy man they call Woozi, who had been the head of the prison’s guard system before the outbreak. He watches you quite intensely as you walk past, but you also get looks from men you can identify as the Chinese members of the unit.

“What’s that?” the youngest Z2 man asks, stepping out of his room to look at you and Jeonghan.

“This, Chan, is instant ramen,” Jeonghan says, waving one of his trays in front of the soldier. “If you run, you might be able to get some for yourself before they close up the kitchen.”

Chan practically takes off, and a moment later, you notice the rest of Z2 standing to join as well.

“Looks like you’re not the only unit who likes ramen,” you grin.

“Everyone likes ramen,” Jeonghan insists. 

You finally make it to the Z1 section and Jeonghan kicks open the door. It’s clear that unlike the other unit rooms which consist of bunk beds, the Z1 unit has the best quarters. With a middle lounging/dining area, and four off-shooting bedrooms, this is clearly the most lavish place to be in the prison. There are weights and other workout contraptions strewn about, and more guns than you can count- 

Sitting on the couches in the middle of the common space are your three other saviors. They appear to be playing some sort of card game, and when you enter, they all look up.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest to be under the gaze of three of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. 

Seungcheol’s the first to speak, his eyes moving from you to Jeonghan. “What’s this?”

“This is dinner,” Jeonghan says simply, walking around the couch to set a tray down for Cheol before taking his own seat next to the unit leader. “And you guys all remember the girl we saved last week. I needed an extra set of hands.”

You step forward, leaning over to put down the two trays you’re holding in front of Mingyu and Wonwoo.

“Make some room for the girl, Jesus, she’s eating with us,” Jeonghan chastizes the two large men staring at you.

Mingyu and Wonwoo are quick to move over, creating a space for you in the middle of the couch. 

“Maybe I should get going,” you suggest, skin tingling at the idea of being sandwiched between Wonwoo and Mingyu. All four men are in their camo pants and tank tops, muscles all on display- 

“Don’t be crazy,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I told Seokmin I’d feed you, so we’re feeding you. These two don’t mind sharing, do you guys?”

Mingyu lifts his jaw off the floor, swallowing thickly and shaking his head. “We don’t mind sharing.”

Wonwoo, in contrast, stays dead silent, his dark eyes watching you as you slowly move to sit in the middle. 

“I uh…” you clear your throat. “I wanted to thank all of you again for saving me last week.”

“Don’t,” Seungcheol says. You stare at him, and he leans forward cocking his head to the side. His next question catches you off guard, “Do you like it here?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Jeonghan chuckles, and Mingyu squirms in his seat next to you. Seungcheol, to your shock, actually grins, and you’re amazed at how the smile lights up his handsome face. “No one’s called me that in a long time,” he admits. “I like the sound of it.”

“She’s quite respectful, isn’t she?” Jeonghan notes, winking at you.

“Why’d you bring her here?” Wonwoo asks, addressing the man across from him. 

You’ve kind of been wondering the same thing.

“You know why I brought her here,” Jeonghan shoots back. 

“Have you discussed it with her yet?” Seungcheol questions, his eyes still fixed on you.

Jeonghan gives his head a quick shake. “Of course not, that’s your job… sir.”

Mingyu shifts again next to you, his thigh gently bumping up against your own. You’re hyper-aware of everything taking place, and you stay still like prey caught under the piercing gaze of four predators, holding your breath while you wait for this to play out. 

“You should eat,” Seungcheol tells you, nodding to the tray on your right, which belongs to Wonwoo. “Have a bite.”

When you don’t move, Wonwoo leans forward picking up the tray and setting it in your lap. “Eat,” he echos his superior’s command.

You tentatively pick up the chopsticks, and on your left, Mingyu does the same with his food. You wait for him to shovel a large amount of noodles into his mouth before you follow suit. Across from you, Jeonghan begins eating too, and then Seungcheol picks up his tray to join. 

Wonwoo sits silently next to you, and after two bites, you shift the food toward him, offering the chopsticks. He shakes his head. “You must be hungry,” he insists. “Have some more.”

“Is anyone going to tell me what this is about?” you ask. “Jeonghan mentioned a survey to complete-”

“Let's finish eating, then we can talk,” Seungcheol states.

“I’m not really that hungry today,” you admit, not when your stomach is filled with butterflies from being so close to these men. You shift the tray toward Wonwoo again, and this time, he accepts it.

The four men eat in silence, and each passing moment feels like forever. Mingyu is done first, he’d practically inhaled his food, and he sets his tray down on the center coffee table, letting out a loud groan and leaning back against the couch. His thigh presses harder against your own, and you shift closer to Wonwoo, who blocks you in.

Both men now have their legs touching yours, and you can feel the warmth of their bodies. God, you haven’t been properly touched in months. The chaste closeness of this is driving you insane, and your heart continues to thunder heavily in your chest.

Soon, all four trays are stacked neatly on the coffee table, and Seungcheol lets out a sigh. He relaxes against the cushions, eyes on you. “Do you think you’ll stay at the prison for long?”

“Hmm?” you blink, confused by the question.

“Some people leave,” Jeonghan explains. “They think they’ll find somewhere better, for some stupid reason.”

“I uh… I think I’d like to stay here, for now at least… I’m taking each day as it comes.”

Seungcheol cocks his head to the side. It’s clear he’s trying to read you, and his silence makes you eager to hear more from him. “We have a… unconventional proposition for you,” the leader of the unit says finally.

“A proposition,” you repeat.

“And if you’re not into it, you can say no. No pressure, no questions asked,” Jeonghan quips.

“You’re allowed to say no,” Wonwoo says quietly next to you. 

“We won’t kick you out or anything,” Mingyu adds. 

“But I do ask that, no matter what your response, you keep this to yourself,” Seungcheol states. 

“Okay, sir.” You nod.

Seungcheol takes a breath. “Life is short-”

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, which earns him a harsh glare from the unit leader. “Come on, you can’t start this off by saying life is short.”

“If you think you can do better, then go for it,” Seungcheol retorts.

“Fine, I will,” Jeonghan fires back. He looks at you. “Life is short-”

“Jesus Christ,” Wonwoo cusses next to you.

“Okay, fine, I’m kidding-” Jeonghan laughs. “Look, I’ll make this simple. There aren’t many pretty girls kicking around these days, and I think it’s safe to say everyone is pent-up from killing zombies and surviving an apocalypse. We all deserve a little release.”

You blink at him, shocked at the direction this has taken.

“As a unit, we’re used to sharing everything,” Jeonghan continues. “And if you’re up for it, we’d love to share you.”

Mingyu shifts next to you. “You don’t have to decide right now-”

“Yes,” you cut him off. “Yes. Please. Uh- yes.”

“Well that was easy,” Jeonghan laughs, leaning back. 

“Sounds like she’s as pent-up as the rest of us,” Wonwoo muses next to you. His voice has lowered an octave, and the sound of him makes your pussy tingle. 

“Looks that way,” Seungcheol agrees.

“So… so how do we do this?” you ask.

“Whatever way you want. Whatever combination you want. Whenever we’re here and you want us-” Jeonghan begins to list. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Mingyu says, his large hand finding your thigh. 

Something inside of you snaps. You turn to the gorgeous man next to you and simply grab his face, smashing your lips to his. Mingyu is surprised for a moment, but then he wraps his arms around you, easily lifting you onto his lap while his tongue begins to clash with your own, a deep groan escaping from him.

“I guess she’s comfortable with now,” you hear Jeonghan muse.

“Gyu, settle down, we still have questions,” Seungcheol says.

With a moan of annoyance, Mingyu pulls away from your lips, then he turns you in his arms, making you face the unit leader. But he doesn’t stop entirely, his mouth finds your throat, and one of his hands grabs at your breast, kneading you through your shirt. 

You’re breathing hard already- Mingyu’s so warm and big and sexy- even so, you do your best to meet Seungcheol’s gaze, your lips parted unconsciously, body wiggling under Mingyu’s touch.

“Are you on any birth control, princess?” Seungcheol asks, leaning forward to watch the way his friend’s other hand slips down to your core, cupping you through your jeans.

“I got an IUD,” you admit, “right before the outbreak-”

Seungcheol’s eyes darken with lust. “Lucky us.” 

“Does this mean we can fuck you raw?” Mingyu groans in your ear, hips rutting up against your ass. 

“Please-” you whimper, practically drooling at the feeling of his hard cock pressing up by your bum.

“Gonna let us fill you up, baby?” he continues, undoing the button of your jeans.

“Yes-”

Seungcheol stands up abruptly, and he kicks the coffee table to the side, sending cards and trays clattering to the floor. He grabs you off of Mingyu’s lap, tossing you over his shoulder and turning toward one of the connected bedrooms. “You’re in for it tonight, dirty girl.”

The three other men stand to follow, and your entire body tingles with delight.

The rest of the world might be dealing with an apocalypse, but you’re pretty sure you’ve just found heaven.

One

When Seungcheol had first shown you the tank in the prison garage, you’d been apprehensive about it. He’d explained that they don’t have the gas for it, so it’s never in use, and is more of a fun toy he goes and sits in sometimes to clear his head. The unit leader had helped you inside and taken the main seat, watching you cautiously move around the enclosed space. He’d explained the mechanics and buttons, dragging you to his lap so you could feel the tickle of his breath by your ear.

In the six months you’ve been fucking his unit, it’s become clear to Seungcheol that you like each man for very different reasons. He’s found that you become particularly baby girl with him when he’s explaining things to you, dominating you intellectually and teaching you new information. 

That first time in the tank, he’d begun stroking you, teasing you until he slipped his hand in your pants. You’d been as wet as you always are for him, and you’d eventually gotten the courage to fuck him in his tank chair, after he assured you over and over again that the armored vehicle is pretty soundproof.

He’s proud of how far you’ve come. It’s the same you, the same tank, but you’re much more daring than you were the first time. He’d thought you were pretty wild when he’d first met you, but that insatiable need you have has only grown, and he loves to see it.

The tank has become his favorite place to fuck you, away from everyone else. As fun as the orgies and threesomes are, sometimes, the unit leader just wants you for himself. 

He loves sitting back and watching you ride him, watching the way your ass bounces while your pussy squeezes his aching cock. 

“You’ve gotten so good at this, princess,” he groans, hands finding your hips to help you move up and down. It’s clear that you’re getting tired, but you won’t stop- you never stop until he tells you to, and he fucking loves you for it.

“Thank you, sir-” you whimper, opting for a slower pace but one that sinks you deeper- he can feel himself stretching out your walls near their breaking point, and he notes the way your legs quake.

Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh, inhaling the stuffy scent of sex that’s already perfumed the small enclosed space. He wraps one hand around your front, finding your clit. Your shaky legs try to close around him, a squeal of delight escaping you.

“Don’t be like that,” Seungcheol says gently, while roughly pulling your thighs apart. “Let sir help you cum, you’ve been such a good little cock whore, riding me so good- now it’s your turn.”

“I’m sensitive-” you whimper.

“Well, that’s what happens when you let Mingyu eat you for breakfast, isn’t that right, pretty girl?” Seungcheol chuckles. This morning he’d walked in on you sprawled out on the coffee table, a moaning crying mess with Mingyu’s face buried between your thighs. 

He’d watched Mingyu make you cum three times while Seungcheol had sipped his morning coffee, and he’d been hard all day thinking about it, waiting for an opportunity to get you to himself. 

Now here you are, pussy clamped around his cock, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum three times too.

You can take it, he knows you can.

They’d tested your tolerance one day, taking turns making you cum until you physically couldn’t take anymore. 

Your high score had been ten, so six today is nothing… although, Wonwoo had walked in at the end of Mingyu’s meal, and Seungcheol’s pretty sure he has a bone to pick with you over it too, once Cheol is done with his own revenge, that is.

“Sir-” you whimper again, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair.

“I can feel you tensing, princess,” he groans, rutting his hips up to meet you. “Be a good girl and let go for me.” He rubs your clit harder and you cry out, which only eggs him on more. “You’ve always been such a good little slut for me, ever since that first night. Don’t start being bad now. You can do it. Follow my order, and cum.”

You take a strangled breath, and Seungcheol can feel your pussy clenching desperately around him- he almost has half a mind to cum too, but he holds back, rubbing your pussy and letting you sink completely on his cock, warming him while your walls throb around his sensitive length. 

“That’s it,” he says in your ear. “Good girl.”

You twitch in his embrace, sounds of pleasure escaping you and filling the tank. He gives you everything you can handle, and when you finally slump back against his chest, he relents. His hand leaves your clit and he presses soft kisses to your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he tells you. 

“Please-”

He loves how needy you are, even after you’ve just cum.

It takes no effort at all for him to stand up, forcing you onto shaky legs. Two crude benches line the tank's inner walls, and he’s set up some cushioning on one. He lays you down, adjusting you on your back while you blink up at him. 

He’ll never get tired of that look in your eye. No matter how respectful and good you are verbally, there’s always something like a challenge lurking behind those pretty irises of yours. Seungcheol can’t help the way his hand reaches out to encircle your throat as he gets on top of you, one knee digging into the cushioning while he sinks his cock into your dripping hole.

“Fuck,” you whimper, throwing your head back while he squeezes your neck tighter.

He loves the way you grab at his wrist, applying even more pressure- it’s as if you want him to choke you out, and it’s one of the sexiest things he ever experiences with you. 

You trust him, completely. He has your life in his hands, and you’re more than willing to give up everything for him. 

The pressure on your throat has your whimpers turning squeaky as he begins to fuck you roughly. He loves watching your face, the way your eyes close, your body completely consumed by what he’s giving you.

“Sir-” you gasp, your pussy clenching tight around his cock.

“Are you going to cum again? That fast?” Seungcheol laughs. “And just from a little choking- you’re such a naughty girl, princess. Tell me you love it when I choke you like this.”

“I love it-” you cry out, taking a raspy breath when he lets up for a moment, just to tighten his grip on you again. 

He can see tears welling in the corners of your eyes, and it makes him fuck you harder, his cock sinking in completely with each thrust.

“If you want to cum again, you should cum,” he tells you. “In fact, I want you to cum again. Reach down and rub your clit for me. Get yourself there one more time before I give you what you really want.” 

You moan like a whore but you don’t argue. You never argue with Cheol. Shaky fingers find your clit and you squeal, shivering from the stimulus. 

You feel like absolute heaven, and Seungcheol would fuck you in this tank for hours if he had the time. 

“Sir-” you whimper, a warning of your impending high.

“Cum on my cock,” he tells you, another command that you won’t argue with.

Even if you wanted to, Seungcheol doubts you could control yourself. Your body beats to the sound of its own drum, your brain be damned, and right now, Seungcheol is the one controlling the tempo.

For the second time, your pussy clamps down on his cock, and Seungcheol has to focus really hard on not busting with you. Your pussy feels like magic, warm wet walls wrapped around his length like you were made for him. 

“Look at you,” Seungcheol groans, hips continuing their brutal pace. “Cumming two times in a row- who’s my good little whore?”

“I am!”

“Who makes you cum this good?”

“You do, sir!”

“And what do you want now, my greedy little princess?”

“Your cum- Fuck! I want your cum in me-” 

He loves that you have a thing about being filled up. One time he’d been tempted to finish on your ass, and you’d cried at the thought of not having him inside you. Your favorite thing is when all four of them take turns filling you to the brink- he’s never seen someone as submissive and breedable as you after having four loads in your pussy. 

And the way you thank him every time he fills you up- it’s an experience that will never get old.

“I’m close, princess, but you know sir doesn’t cum unless his pretty girl does,” Seungcheol muses. “You have one more for me, right?”

“Fuck, yes, sir-” He notes the way you rub your clit harder, and you immediately let out a groan- Seungcheol lets go of your neck, pinching your nipple roughly, which earns another strangled sound from your lips.

“Tell me when, princess, then sir will fill you up.”

“Almost there, almost there-” you assure him, brows knitted together in concentration as you work your already oversensitive clit. 

Seungcheol and his unit have spent six months overstimulating you. Six months teaching your body to test the limits and cum over and over and over again- and this is the reward.

Your main dominant leans over you, massaging your breast while his lips meet your throat. He knows your sweet spots like the back of his hand, and you immediately shiver below him, a gasp escaping you.

“Cumming-” you whisper, as your walls clench like a vice on his cock.

The feeling triggers Seungcheol’s orgasm, the tight cord finally releasing.

Seungcheol had thought his sex life before the outbreak was good, but he’s never cum the way he does when he’s with you. His whole body is alight with pleasure, groans leaving him without a care in the world. His hips move to their own pace, twitching as he shoots ropes of his cum deep in your pussy, creaming your pulsing walls and marking you - if even for this moment - as his. 

“Sir-” you whimper, grabbing his face and searching for his lips.

You kiss him deeply, tongue gliding against his own while you moan into each other's mouths, riding out the orgasms. 

As Seungcheol finishes and his hips come to a stop, there’s a knocking on the tank hatch. A moment later, Wonwoo is poking his head through the hole. “These tanks aren’t as soundproof as you think, Cheol.”

“Well, no one comes down here except Z1,” the unit leader points out.

“True.” Wonwoo’s eyes shift past Seungcheol to you. Your body is still mostly covered, but the moment Seungcheol gets off of you, you’re completely exposed. Seungcheol tosses you a handcloth to take care of the cum that begins to drip out of your pussy, and you blink up at the team’s sniper, who flashes you a wink. “Hi, beautiful.”

“Hi, Wonwoo,” you grin.

“Looks like Gyu and Cheol have made a mess of you today.”

“If you give me a little, I can take more,” you assure him, which makes Seungcheol laugh.

How’d they ever luck out and find a nymphomaniac able to take all four men and keep up with their appetites? 

Wonwoo cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. “I know you like being fucked in a tank, but how would you feel about being fucked on top of one?” 

“What if someone sees?”

Seungcheol laughs again. “Like I said, the only people who come down here are the Z1 unit. If anyone is going to show up, it’s Jeonghan. But we all know you’d like that, wouldn’t you, princess?”

The way your eyes light up is answer enough and Seungcheol pulls on his pants, shaking his head at your insatiable appetite. “Her number is already at six,” he warns Wonwoo, helping you onto your feet and pulling your easy-access dress over your head. “Give her ten minutes to calm down, and when you finally do fuck her, don’t be mean.”

“I’m never mean,” Wonwoo insists, reaching a hand down through the tank hatch hole to help pull you up and out.

Seungcheol follows you on the ladder, making sure your shaky legs don’t lead to any accidents. “Liar.” 

Two

Jeonghan loves everything about you, but he’s grown particularly fond of your mouth in recent months. When he has to share you with three other men who all fight for your pussy, it’s not unusual for Jeonghan to be perfectly content with getting a blow job while he waits.

He likes the lack of effort he has to put into it, but the reward is quite similar to what he experiences between your thighs. It also opens him up to be able to praise you, or degrade you, in any way he sees fit. Out of all four of your military fuck buddies, Jeonghan is the biggest talker. Mingyu has his moments, but when he’s close to cumming, he opts for moaning instead of chatting, which is Jeonghan’s specialty.

When he gets you alone, Jeonghan still likes a good blow job as an appetizer before the main course, and there’s nothing more fitting than having you on your knees for him in the prison chapel. 

“You look good like this,” Jeonghan muses, threading his fingers through your hair to help you find a good pace on his cock. “My perfect little kitten.”

You moan around his length, looking up at him with those pretty eyes he loves so much. 

You’re naked. He’d stripped you the moment you entered the church, and now, as per his direction, your hand is between your thighs, fingers stroking your clit while you suck him off.

“Always so dirty for me in a place of worship-” Jeonghan muses. “But that’s what you’re doing, right? Worshipping? You’re even on your knees and everything.”

When he’d first started fucking you here, you’d made him check the confession booth every time, just to be sure Joshua wasn’t around. Jeonghan knows you don’t have problems with being watched - or listened to - but it had been clear you felt ashamed of the idea of the priest hearing Jeonghan fuck you in the House of God. 

The first time Jeonghan had pulled open the door of the confession booth to find the priest sitting there, he’d allowed the man to be a quiet vouyer without telling you. It had added to his own enjoyment, and it had been clear from the look in the priest’s eye that he was content with listening too. 

It’s been a few months since you’ve asked Jeonghan to check the confession booths- you’ve become much too used to being railed in the chapel, and now, everytime he fucks you here, Jeonghan wonders if the priest is listening in. 

Jeonghan enjoys the almost performative nature that his dirty talk takes on at the idea of another man being in the vicinity. It makes his skin tingle, and his cock ache, to think that the ‘innocent priest’ is hearing every filthy word- every gagging sound you make when Jeonghan’s cock hits the back of your throat.

It’s become clear to Jeonghan that Joshua is anything but innocent, and the two have an unacknowledged agreement of secrecy. What takes place in the House of God, stays in the House of God, especially the sin that’s being committed here weekly.

“There you go, kitten,” Jeonghan groans loudly. “Take all of me, that’s it.”

His hips push forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes start to water as you stare up at him, and Jeonghan brushes them away, enjoying the wetness on his fingers way too much.

“So good,” he coos. “So fucking good.”

You whimper around his cock and he grabs the back of your head, forcing you to still on his length so he can begin fucking your face. 

“Such a perfect hole for me, kitten.” Jeonghan can feel his muscles tensing, can feel an orgasm building in his balls. “How's your pussy feel? Are you getting close too?”

You let out a moan of affirmation, closing your eyes and relaxing your throat while he ruts into your mouth. He’s spent months teaching you how to take cock like this, how to ignore your gagging instinct- and he’s so proud of the progress you’ve made for him.

“Don’t cum on your fingers, you only get to cum on my cock,” he warns you, using you toward his own end.

As much as he loves your mouth, nothing beats the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around his length- and he knows you love his cum, knows you love nothing more than feeling him dripping out of your used pussy as you stagger back toward the prison, clutched to his arm.

He’ll give you everything you want. He always does.

“Just a little more, kitten,” Jeonghan groans, enjoying the way your mouth sucks him in with each thrust.

He hopes you’re dripping already. The wooden floor had been less than ideal to fuck on the first two times you’d used the church as a hookup spot, and since then, Jeonghan’s taken to letting you kneel on his military jacket.

He loves the way it smells like you after, but Jeonghan’s always been a bit of a pervert. Sometimes you grace him by slipping your panties into his jacket pocket, and on supply runs, he can play with them when he’s not occupied.

As you bring him closer and closer to his peak, Jeonghan decides he’s had enough of your mouth. He pulls out, and you take a shuddered breath, drool still connecting you to his cock. Jeonghan can’t help himself, he taps his length against your cheek, grinning down at you.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, Hannie,” you nod, wiping your face with the back of your hand before adjusting on his jacket. You lay down, spreading your legs so he can see your pretty pussy, all wet and needy for him. “Please-”

Jeonghan gets down onto his knees, grabbing and teasing your breast, thumb rubbing over your pebbled nipple. “Beg for it.”

“I want your cock,” you whimper. “Please, I need it inside- I need it so bad, Hannie, please-”

He groans at your words, adjusting so he’s hovering over you. He grabs the base of his throbbing cock, rubbing it through your folds and teasing your clit. You wiggle below him at the stimulus, grabbing at his shoulders. 

Jeonghan can’t help but kiss you as he pushes his length into your pussy, going as deep as he can while you both groan into each other’s mouths. 

Your legs wrap around his hips, keeping him close even as he begins to thrust. 

His free hand finds your clit, drawing circular motions that have you shaking beneath him. “Aw, kitten, are you close too?”

“So close-” you confirm, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. 

He fucks you harder, enjoying the squeaky sounds that escape you and fill the chapel. Jeonghan watches the way your face contorts with pleasure, your body wiggling beneath him while he fills you over and over again with his cock.

“Hannie-” you gasp, walls clenching tighter and tighter around him.

“Come on, kitten. Cum on this cock and beg for me to fill you up like the dirty girl you are.”

“I need your cum,” you cry out, “I need it- please, Hannie, please give it to me-”

He rubs your clit harder and you let out a choked sound, back arching so your tits are pressed to his bare chest. 

“Hannie-” You gasp loudly, your orgasm slamming into you. Your walls contract around Jeonghan’s aching cock, triggering his own high. He lets out a groan, continuing on your clit while he fucks you through it.

There’s no prettier sound in the world than a woman cumming in a church, your moans echoing through the enclosed space like angels singing.

Jeonghan fucks you until he physically can’t fuck you anymore, and then he half collapses on top of you, dragging your lips to his own.

You kiss him desperately, tangling your fingers in his hair so he can’t get away, your legs wrapped tight around him. You’re still whimpering, trying to overcome the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You’re beautiful.

So, so beautiful. 

Three

Wonwoo might actually be obsessed with watching you cum- and if he’s obsessed with watching you cum, then Mingyu’s obsessed with making you cum. Even though they’ve both already filled you with their loads, Mingyu’s back between your thighs again. His large hand is pressed over your abdomen, keeping you from thrashing around while he sucks on your clit and finger fucks the cum back into your abused hole.

Wonwoo is sitting in a chair next to the bed, eyes fixed on your body. If he hadn’t already cum twice, he’d be tempted to pull his cock out again.

“Please- Gyu, I can’t- I can’t-”

“One more,” Wonwoo encourages you. “You can take one more, beautiful.” 

You grab at the sheets, twisting them as Mingyu continues his unrelenting pace between your shaking thighs.

“Fuck-” you whimper, sounds becoming more desperate.

Wonwoo can hear how slick your pussy is, each thrust of Mingyu’s fingers has you squelching-

“She’s gonna cum,” Wonwoo announces, knowing your body almost as well as you do.

Mingyu groans lewdly against your clit, and the vibrations must trigger your orgasm, because you wrap your thighs completely around his head, back arching. Your gasps fill Wonwoo’s room, your grip on his bed released in favour of grabbing Mingyu’s hair.

It’s clear you’re trying to push the man away, but Mingyu doesn’t budge, helping you through your high until tears of pleasure are rolling down your cheeks.

“That’s enough,” Wonwoo says when it becomes clear that you’re bordering on overstimulation. The sniper stands from his chair, gaze lingering on your body. “We asked for one more, and she gave it to us. Give the girl a break.”

Mingyu sighs, but pulls away from your pussy, dragging his fingertips along your throbbing inner walls a few more times before he relents there too. He presents his wet digits to your mouth, and you greedily suck them clean, grabbing his wrist and closing your eyes while you lick up every drop of cum.

“I’ll go grab us food,” Wonwoo sighs. It’s past dinnertime, and as far as Mingyu had been concerned, you’d been his meal, but if Wonwoo is fast, he can make it in time to grab something from the cafeteria.

The barracks have a food stash, but Wonwoo doesn’t have the energy to cook, not after fucking you for two hours. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” he warns as he heads to the door.

“As if she can even walk,” Mingyu laughs, pulling his fingers from your mouth in favour of spooning you on the bed, dragging you close to his chest.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else as he leaves. Seungcheol and Jeonghan aren’t around, something about a meeting with Woozi to look over maps of surrounding locations with potential food stores. 

When Wonwoo passes the Z2 rooms, he finds them also empty. Z2 generally frequent the compound’s survivor zones before bed, doing final checks for the night.

Wonwoo thinks about you the entire walk to the cellblock. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head lately. There are the physical things- like the look in your eyes when you’re about to cum, the way sweat glistens on your skin, your nipples pebbling under his touch. But there’s the non-physical side too, the way you make him feel at night when you’re curled against his side, neither of you speaking, hands stroking each other gently-

When Wonwoo makes it to the cafeteria, he finds it nearly deserted. Dino is standing to the side of the room with the priest, and Seokmin has just started putting away the last of the food.

Grabbing two trays, Wonwoo immediately heads for Seokmin, who sighs at his lateness but begins serving him anyways. 

The two are silent as Seokmin shovels food for Wonwoo. He doesn’t say anything, but Seokmin serves three portions. As your friend, Wonwoo thinks Seokmin must know about the arrangement you have with Z1, although he’s never mentioned anything about it. 

Wonwoo’s not entirely sure who knows about what’s going on with you and the four men who have solidified themselves as your constant companions. He’d guess that a number of people have figured out there’s some type of arrangement, especially after Seungcheol had insisted you get less work tasks last month when your duties had interfered with his fuck schedule.

Wonwoo can feel eyes on him, and when his trays are full, he turns to look at Dino and the priest. The Z2 member waves him over, and despite every fiber of his being telling Wonwoo to ignore his friend and find his way back to you, Wonwoo approaches the two men.

“That’s a lot of food,” Dino notes.

“Mingyu’s hungry,” Wonwoo says, his gaze shifting to the priest who has a watchful eye that’s always gotten under his skin. “I didn’t know you were friends.”

“I’m friend to anyone who needs an attentive ear,” the priest says smoothly. 

“He’s a really good listener,” Dino confirms.

Joshua cocks his head, staring Wonwoo up and down. “If you ever need-”

“I don’t,” Wonwoo interjects. “Goodnight.”

As he leaves the cafeteria, Wonwoo can hear Dino trying to explain his behaviour. “Wonwoo’s not a big talker,” the Z2 unit member says in a hushed tone.

And even if he was, Wonwoo certainly wouldn’t be talking to Joshua of all people. While many of the survivors clearly like the man, something is off about the priest, and Wonwoo can feel it in his bones.

Four

Mingyu’s knee had been bobbing the entire jeep ride back to the prison. Missions always make him giddy- any day could be his last, and there’s nothing quite like celebrating another day of life with you when the unit gets back to the compound.

He’s not the only one who’s feeling it. Missions often end with a return to the prison and all four men setting off to find you, eager to see who will be successful in their weekly guessing game of ‘where’s baby?’

“I’m checking the chapel,” Jeonghan announces as soon as the car has come to a stop.

“Jeonghan and his church sex obsession,” Cheol sighs, watching his friend dart off.

“She might be in the garden with Hansol,” Wonwoo says thoughtfully. “It’s a nice day out, that always gets her mind off of shit.”

Adjusting the gun over his back, Wonwoo follows Jeonghan out of the parking garage, which leaves Mingyu with the unit leader.

“They’re both going to be wrong,” Seungcheol grins.

“Yeah?”

“Our little princess gets anxious when we’re gone, especially these days,” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “My money is she’s waiting in one of our beds, napping to pass the time for us to come back.”

“That does sound like her,” Mingyu admits, and the two of them head to the door that will give them the easiest access to the barracks.

“Jeonghan probably could have figured it out, but you know how he gets about his church blowjobs,” Cheol grins. 

“And Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, wondering about his friend’s motives. 

Seungcheol takes a moment before he responds. “I think he likes it when he gets to see her out in the sun.”

Before the outbreak, when Mingyu and Wonwoo had known each other through the military, Mingyu was the designated lover boy. Wonwoo’s never been the type to even look at girls, and the past few months have been a shock for everyone to see what the stoic sniper looks like when he’s falling for someone.

You and Wonwoo had been a slow burn, due to Wonwoo’s generally quiet nature, but in those first months, Wonwoo had probably spent the most time shadowing you. In that time period, Mingyu would go up to the lookout tower and spot you in the garden, Wonwoo a few feet behind, his hand always on his gun despite Hansol being the only other person with you.

When Seungcheol had broached the idea of your only job being their plaything, it had been the first time you’d ever pushed back, insisting that you liked gardening and helping with the plants. Wonwoo had been right there to back you up, and Seungcheol had begrudgingly agreed to let you keep your ‘little hobby.’

In the back corners of Mingyu’s mind, he kind of hopes you are in the garden right now. Wonwoo had almost died on their mission today- zombie jaws had come within an inch of his arm, and if anyone deserves some ‘you time’ after all of that, it’s Wonwoo.

When Seungcheol and Mingyu make it back to the barracks, Mingyu’s small hopes are dashed. The unit leader is the best at guessing moves, in card games and life, and he’d been spot on about you sleeping in someone’s bed. 

You’re in Jeonghan’s room of all places, and you sit up as the two men enter the common space, watching them set down their guns from the messy tangle of sheets. 

You hop onto your feet at the same time that Mingyu begins to run to you. When you jump into his arms, he lifts you off the floor, spinning you around and burying his face against your throat. 

Hugs are never as tight as they are after missions.

“Are you guys all okay?” you ask when Mingyu sets you down, only for Seungcheol to engulf you in an embrace of his own. 

“We’re all good,” the unit leader responds. “A little banged up, but nothing we can’t handle.”

You pull away from Seungcheol to look at his face, and Mingyu watches the way you brush your thumb across the unit leader’s cheek. “Looks like you need a shower,” you muse, having just wiped away some dirt.

“Looks like we all need a shower,” Seungcheol agreed with a groan. He tosses you over his shoulder and Mingyu grins at the sight. Out of all of them, Cheol’s the biggest man handler, but you clearly don’t mind.

One of the nicest things about their little Z1 master unit is that it comes with it’s own bathroom. The other units have small double occupancy rooms, a common area, and a common shower/toilet space. Mingyu feels bad for the other units sometimes, but rank in military means something; Seungcheol is the highest ranking person at the prison, so he gets to call the shots, and his unit reaps the rewards. 

Z1 has taken advantage of the large shower in their bathroom more times than Mingyu can count. There’s nothing like getting steamy in a room full of steam. 

Seungcheol strips you naked, turning on the shower while Mingyu takes off his clothes too. Mingyu can’t wait anymore, and he tugs your nude form against his own, kissing you stupid.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your beautiful tits pressing up against his bare chest. Mingyu’s cock is already getting hard, pushing up between your bodies. You wiggle your hips, providing stimulus that has him groaning loudly, his hands reaching down to grab your ass.

It’s all too easy for Mingyu to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his body while he carries you into the shower, your lips still locked in a desperate battle. 

Instead of putting you under the stream of water, Mingyu presses you against the wall, slowly allowing you back onto your feet. As much as he’d love to rail you right now, he knows that he’s just as dirty as Seungcheol is at the moment- which means you’ll wash his body for him. God, he loves teasing foreplay like this- the way you immediately grab at the prized bottle of body wash to lather it up in your hands. 

Mingyu watches, holding his breath as you bring your palms to his shoulders, beginning to wash his large frame.

“Dirty boy,” you muse, grinning while you rub away the dirt and grime.

“Dirty girl,” he counters, lifting his hands so he can box you in against the wall.

He sees the way your breath hitches- you like to feel small, and Mingyu loves to deliver on it. He might not be as outwardly dominant as Seungcheol or Wonwoo, but Mingyu knows that his height does something to you- the way he has to tip his head to look down and meet your eyes.

Your hands trail down to his abdomen, nails teasing his skin there while he shivers. He wishes you’d just sink to your knees and wrap your mouth around his cock-

“Turn around for me, big guy,” you grin, pulling your touch away from where he needs you most. 

With a groan, Mingyu does as he’s told, and you begin to wash his back. When you reach up to do his shoulders, he feels your bare tits press against his spine. He closes his eyes, grabbing at his cock to begin stroking himself.

“Hey,” you chastise, immediately seeing what he’s doing and wrapping an arm around his front to grab at his hand. “That’s my job.”

“He’s needy today,” Seungcheol grins, watching from just outside the shower.

“I’m needy every day,” Mingyu corrects, releasing his length only to replace his hand with your own- you’re so much smaller than him, and when he looks down, he loves the way you make his cock look massive with your tiny hand wrapped around the girth. 

You begin to stroke him, and Mingyu lets out a loud groan. 

“Does it feel good, big guy?” you ask, squeezing tighter to his back.

“Feels amazing,” he breathes, closing his eyes to enjoy you. 

“I hate to be the one to say it,” Seungchol laughs, “but water stores have been low lately. As much as I’d love to watch this, we’re supposed to be saving supply by showering together, not taking our sweet time.”

“Then come join, sir, I’m sure you need a good rub down too,” you grin.

Seungcheol takes a step forward- just as the door to the bathroom opens, Wonwoo sliding in. He takes one look at the scene in front of him, and begins stripping down.

The unit leader stops his advances, and it’s clear to Mingyu that Seungcheol knows as well as he does that if one person needs you right now, it’s Wonwoo.

“I’ll wait,” Seungcheol sighs, making room for Wonwoo to slip past him into the shower now that he’s removed his clothes. 

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, he simply pushes Gyu to the side and grabs your face, pressing his lips to yours. Your soapy hands find Wonwoo’s toned chest, and you begin to wash him even as he kisses you, pressing you back against the wall. 

Mingyu turns to watch, rinsing the bubbles off his skin while you lather up his best friend. Then, his grip returns to his cock. Your cute little hands have always turned him on, and watching you rub Wonwoo’s shoulders, attacking the specks of dirt there like it’s your job- fuck, everything you do just makes Mingyu horny.

Wonwoo pulls you away from the wall suddenly, spinning you around so your back is now pressed to Mingyu’s chest while the three of you are submerged in water. Mingyu can’t help but lean down and begin to kiss your throat, finding your sweet spot and sucking on it while you whimper and wriggle between their bodies. 

From this vantage point, Mingyu can see your hand slip from Wonwoo’s shoulders and down his chest. You grab at the sniper’s cock, pumping it slowly while Wonwoo continues to kiss you.

The soap washes away quickly, and as soon as you’re all clean, Wonwoo pushes you and Mingyu backward, prompting you to all leave the shower. “Your turn,” Wonwoo tells Cheol as your trio passes him.

“Princess isn’t going to wash me off too?” Cheol’s tone is teasing, but Mingyu can sense the hurt there.

“Not today,” Wonwoo responds gruffy, reaching for one of the towels. He wraps it around your body first, drying you off with efficient motions.

Mingyu grabs his own towel, eager to get rid of the water on his body. He knows what comes next, and he’s not going to waste a second.

When Wonwoo is done with you, you begin to dry him, your lips still tangled together. Mingyu stifles a laugh at the vision in front of him, the way the two of you can be so focused on each other and the task at hand. 

Wonwoo breaks the kiss to look at Mingyu over your shoulder. “If you’re joining, you better go grab some lube.”

“Right-” Mingyu swallows thickly, wrapping a towel around his hips as he exits the bathroom. 

He nearly runs straight into Jeonghan, and the older man grins. “Orgy time?”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says, hurrying to his room to grab the bottle of lube he keeps there. “I think it’s me and Wonwoo right now.”

“Cheol must have loved that,” Jeonghan scoffs.

“You two can have her after,” Mingyu promises.

“We will,” Jeonghan laughs, following Mingyu back into the bathroom. 

Wonwoo’s already inside of you, your feet off the ground while the muscular man presses you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his hips. You’re moaning loudly, Wonwoo’s face buried in the crook of your throat. Your eyes open as Jeonghan and Mingyu enter the bathroom, and the look of lust in your expression is enough to have Mingyu throbbing.

“I’ve got the lube,” he announces. 

Keeping up with four men means you’ve gotten adept at anal. Even so, it had taken you two months before you could properly handle Mingyu’s large cock, but the pay off has been… more than fulfilling, to say the least.

Wonwoo pulls you off the wall, and Mingyu slots behind you, squirting some lube on his fingers. The sniper adjusts his hands on your ass, spreading you open for Mingyu so he can press a finger into your tight hole.

You whimper loudly, and Mingyu does his best to soothe you by speckling your shoulders with kisses. “So good for us,” he murmurs.

You’re taking his finger so well, and it prompts him to add a second, stretching you open while you cling to Wonwoo. 

“Hurry up,” the sniper groans, holding still inside of you while Mingyu preps your ass.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Mingyu admits; none of them do.

“I can take it,” you moan. “Please, Gyu-”

“Fuck,” Mingyu breathes, slathering his cock with lube before tossing the bottle into the sink. He grabs his base, rubbing his tip through your cheeks and prodding your hole. “If you need me to stop, just say something.”

He tries his best to be gentle, slowly sinking inch after inch of his long cock into your ass. You cry out loudly, burying your face against Wonwoo’s neck. 

Mingyu doesn’t try to make you take him all in one go, he starts with four inches, thrusting shallowly into your ass. Wonwoo takes the motion as a prompt to continue fucking you too, and the men begin to manhandle you between them, a push-pull.

Behind Wonwoo, Seungcheol and Jeonghan have switched places in the shower. The unit leader is now standing half dried off, water droplets sinking down his toned chest while his hand works his own cock.

They’ve all gotten used to watching each other like this, but the knowledge that Cheol is fixated on the act has Mingyu wanting to prove himself even more. He sinks another inch of his cock into your ass, and you moan lewdly in Wonwoo’s ear, wriggling in their grasp.

“Feels good?” Mingyu asks.

“Feels amazing,” you whimper, nails digging into Wonwoo’s shoulders. “I want more.”

“More?” Mingyu laughs.

“Don’t hold back,” you tell him.

This time, when Mingyu thrusts, he allows his front to hit your ass, his cock fully buried in your tight hole.

You let out a strangled cry.

“Our little cock whore,” Cheol muses, “loves being full to the fucking brim.”

“Sir-” you whimper, your walls tightening around Mingyu.

“Fuck, I’m close-” Mingyu groans at the sensation. “Baby, you’re close too, right? Fuck, you’re squeezing us so fucking tight-”

“I’m close, I’m close-” you nod desperately.

“Gonna let us cum and fill you up the way you like-”

“Gyu, please-” you whimper, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair, drawing his lips to your throat.

“We’ll fill you up,” Mingyu promises.

Wonwoo’s not much of a talker in bed, especially under the watchful gaze of Jeonghan and Seungcheol. But when it’s just Wonwoo, Gyu and you, Wonwoo gets out of his shell more. Mingyu’s become an expert at listening to his older friend’s sounds, of anticipating when he’s on the brink-

The soft grunts escaping the sniper’s lips are a clear indicator that he’s as close to the edge as you and Gyu are. Mingyu knows better than anyone that the moment you cum, it’s over for them both. They don’t have the control Seungcheol does to hold off an orgasm while your walls throb around them, and they don’t have the vindictive side to edge you.

No, Wonwoo and Mingyu understand each other. What you see is what you get, and when you begin to beg, they’ll give you anything and everything you could ever ask them for.

“Please, fuck, I’m gonna cum-” you cry as they both fuck you even rougher.

“Cum for us, beautiful,” Wonwoo groans. “Cum on our cocks.”

You let out a pitchy scream, and your walls clamp down on Mingyu’s length, driving him into a frenzy as you throw him over the edge with you. His fingers dig into your hips, his cock pistoning in and out of your ass while Wonwoo matches the fevered pace. The two men moan deeply while your body milks them for all they’re worth, drawing their cum deep inside of you.

“Holy shit-” Mingyu moans. He’s not one to cry from sex like you are, not the type to get so overstimulated that tears fall, but fuck, he feels like he’s on the verge of it tonight.

His body takes over, his animalistic instincts driving him to fuck you through your high even though his muscles are screaming at him to stop. His cock is throbbing endlessly, pleasure surging along his skin hotter than any shower water ever could be.

It’s Wonwoo who stops first, pressing his lips to yours while you grab his face, moaning like their perfect little whore. Mingyu’s thrusts end shortly after, his cock buried deep in your hole, his chest pressed to your back while he kisses your neck.

The sound of the shower has stopped. Mingyu’s not sure when that happened, but when he opens his eyes to inspect what’s going on, he finds Cheol wiping his own cum off his chest.

“What about round two?” Jeonghan asks, cock in hand as he stands in the shower.

“No round two,” Wonwoo says flatly. 

“No round two?” Jeonghan looks shocked, and his gaze shifts to Seungcheol. “Is he allowed to declare that?”

“They fucked her stupid, Hannie,” Seungcheol laughs. “You should have had the brains to make yourself cum while you had a show.”

Mingyu pulls out of your ass, and the two of you groan at the loss. Grabbing some tissues, Mingyu immediately cleans up the cum leaking from your hole. When he’s done, Wonwoo heads to the door with you still embraced against his chest. Mingyu follows like a helpless puppy as the sniper takes you to his room. 

It’s evident that Wonwoo is intent on cuddling you now, and it’s clear from your expression that you’re on the verge of passing out. To make things easier on everyone, Mingyu puts his towel onto the bed, hoping to catch any more cum that’s going to drip out of your used holes.

As the three of you settle onto the bed, Wonwoo’s the one who holds you close to his chest, and Mingyu’s more than happy to be the big spoon behind you.

“You’re in a mood,” you whisper, clearly speaking to Wonwoo. Your finger traces his collarbone, and you lean forward to press a kiss to his throat. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alive,” Wonwoo says simply.

Mingyu knows it’s not his place to join this conversation. He feels lucky that he can even witness it, that the two of you feel comfortable enough being even slightly vulnerable together in front of him. 

If Wonwoo’s not going to go into details about his near zombification bite today, Mingyu’s not going to bring it up either, although the sentiment of the words ‘I’m alive’ weigh heavily on his heart.

When this whole thing had started, Mingyu thinks you were all taking each day like it was your last. But now, six months in, it’s clear you all have something important to live for.

Call it love, call it attraction, call it lust- whatever it is, it’s the glue holding you and the unit together, the thing that’s become worth fighting for.

���I’m happy you’re okay,” you tell Wonwoo, but when you place your hand over Mingyu’s, it’s clear you’re talking to them both.

Mingyu squeezes your fingers gently, a silent agreement that he’s happy you’re all living another day. 

If anything ever happened to any of you at this point in your unconventional relationship, he’s not sure he could continue going on.

Five

Joshua has been distracted his entire sermon. It’s getting hard to read the holy words while his brain is preoccupied with the most unholy of thoughts.

He’s known for a while that the Z1 unit tosses you amongst themselves. He’s heard Jeonghan fucking you more times than he can count. But he’s never witnessed any of these… indiscretions with his own eyes. 

Until now.

He’d been out for a walk in the morning, touring the prison garden with the hopes of bumping into you. What he’d stumbled upon, however, was the sight of you pressed against a wall, the Z1 sniper’s pants hung low on his hips, your legs wrapped around his body while he fucked you stupid, his hand clamped over your mouth.

Joshua had been frozen- or maybe he’d chosen to stay, although it’s hard to admit that to himself. Despite the palm over your lips, your muffled whimpers had still been music to the priest’s ears, and he can’t get the song of you out of his head.

And then you’d opened your eyes, looking directly at him.

Joshua’s voice hitches, and he mentally smacks himself, clearing his throat as he continues the passage he’s reading to the group of adoring survivors. They have no clue that the podium he’s standing behind is hiding the half-chub growing in his pants, and Joshua almost revels at the secret knowledge, the secret sin. 

If only they knew what the dirty priest thinks about when no one else was around.

The chapel door opens, and Joshua pauses to watch you slip into a seat in the very back.

You’ve never come to one of these before, and it can’t be a coincidence that today of all days, you’re here to listen to him speak.

Your presence is a distraction, but it also pushes Joshua to do better. He wants to perform for you, wants to show you how good his sermons can be.

It almost feels as if the passages end too quickly for Joshua’s liking, and with a closing statement, survivors begin to dispurse. By now, his half chub has died down, and Joshua stands in front of the church, bidding goodnight to the parishioners who come to thank him for service. 

Even as he chats briefly with people, his eyes keep finding you.

You haven’t moved from your seat, and as more bodies leave, it becomes clear that you have a motive behind being here.

Finally, it’s just the two of you left. Joshua approaches, his hands clasped in front of his body. “You came,” he notes, delighted at the double entendre to his words. 

“Yeah, I uh…” you lick your lips. “Father, I wanted to apologize-”

“We have a confession booth for that,” Joshua muses. “You’ve been here six months, I think it’s time, don’t you?”

You take a deep breath, your eyes shifting to the booths in the corner of the chapel. “Do we really have to do this there?”

“There’s no better place,” he assures you, stepping back and holding out a hand in the direction of the confessionals. “After you.”

After a moment of deliberation, you stand up, nodding as you pass the priest. As you walk in front of him, Joshua notes your body. You’re wearing a jacket and a dress, the cream colour of the skirt’s fabric almost looks virginal, except he knows better. You’re anything but a virgin.

When you get to the booth, you look at both doors. “Which one-”

“On the left, darling.”

With another tight lipped smile and a nod, you enter the confession booth.

Joshua takes a deep breath, his skin tingling with excitement. As he enters the priest’s side, his mind reels with the possibilities of what you’re about to say to him. 

Joshua revels in the knowledge that his parishioners bestow upon him. Their confessions help him figure them out, see what makes them tick. He’s long been wondering about you and your… motives for being.

You’re a math problem he can’t wait to crack, and he’s excited for you to give him a cheat sheet.

The booth is silent, and Joshua waits patiently. 

Finally, you sigh. “How do I even begin?”

“A confession generally starts when you say ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’ then you tell me how long it’s been since your last confession, and we go from there,” Joshua explains. 

He can hear you breathing, can feel the anxiety wafting off of you.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you say. “It’s been… too many days to count since my last confession.”

There’s silence again, and it’s clear you need more guidance. “What are your sins, darling?”

“Lust,” you blurt out. “Lust is a big one… and I think… probably greed too. Do you think I’m greedy, Father?”

He definitely thinks you’re greedy. One girl being passed around by four men- it’s as greedy and lustful as he’s ever seen, but Joshua keeps that to himself. “I’d need more details about your situation in order to make an adequate assessment.”

“Well, I mean… you saw me with Wonwoo today.”

Joshua stays silent.

“I just want you to know… We didn’t think anyone would see us.”

“God sees all.”

“God I can handle, but you? It’s different that you saw it.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, because-” you pause. “It’s just different.”

Joshua considers your words. “We live in rough times,” he says finally. “Unprecedented days. It’s not unusual to seek comfort in a situation like this. I would never judge you for finding comfort in the arms of a man like Wonwoo.”

“Except… I think… I think we both know it’s not just Wonwoo I seek comfort in.”

Joshua’s heart beats loud in his chest, and excitement tingles across his skin. “Go on, darling.”

“I’m not sure I should.”

“Why are you apprehensive?” Joshua asks.

“I was asked not to discuss this with anyone, but- I mean, you saw me and Wonwoo, so I wanted to come here to apologize for that, not to get into the messy details.”

The priest immediately guesses the culprit behind your secrecy. It’s just like Choi Seungcheol to give you a boundary like this. You’re the Z1 unit’s open little secret. Anyone with eyes trained to look can see what’s going on, but the prison has a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. And no one pries into the personal lives of Choi Seungcheol or his men.

“It would feel better to confess,” Joshua tells you. “No one would have to know.”

“I’d know.”

“And it would stay between us. You can trust me.” Joshua’s a master secret keeper, and he’s eager to add yours to his long list of indiscretions carried out by desperate survivors.

“That’s the thing, Father, I’m not sure I can.”

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” Joshua asked, perplexed by you. Has he been slipping? 

No, it couldn’t be. His carefully created mask is good enough to charm and convince anyone-

“Wonwoo wasn’t happy about you stumbling across us today,” you note.

Ahh, Joshua nods to himself, Wonwoo, the sniper with the sharp eyes. Things are beginning to make sense. 

“Maybe Wonwoo should be in the confessional, not you,” Joshua muses.

“He’d never come here,” you laugh. “He wouldn’t even want me to be here right now, not alone.”

“And yet, here you are, darling. Alone.” 

“This wasn’t a good idea.”

Joshua hears you stand up. Part of him wants to find a way to manipulate you into staying, but he’s already toed the line by calling you ‘darling’ multiple times. If he does anything else, it might incur the wrath of Seungcheol. The priest still has plausible deniability on his side for the petnames, but anything further might be the tipping point.

“I’m always here,” Joshua assures you, wondering if you’ll clue into the word ‘always,’ and see the true meaning there. “You’re welcome in my confessional any time.”  

Six

Your pulse is still racing from your interaction with the priest when you make it back to the Z1 dorm. Your four lovers are playing cards, a general pastime for them when they’re not blowing your back out, and they all look up as you slip inside the room.

“Baby?” Mingyu puts his cards down, standing to address you. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Yeah- of course, why wouldn’t I be alright?” you ask.

“You look off,” Wonwoo notes, also getting to his feet, an expression of concern evident in his handsome features.

“Tell us what happened,” Seungcheol commands.

“Sir-”

“Tell us,” he insists.

“I went to the chapel,” you tell them, watching Wonwoo’s expression drop. “I uh- the priest saw me and Wonwoo today so I went to apologize-”

“The priest caught you?” Jeonghan laughs, still seated and clearly enjoying the drama unfolding in front of him. “Naughty, naughty.” 

“Shut it,” Seungcheol warns his friend, gaze shifting back to you. “Then what happened?”

You swallow thickly. “We went into the confessional and- I mean, I didn’t tell him anything, but, there was something about the vibes- the way he spoke to me-”

“How did he speak to you?” Wonwoo questions, irritation clear in his tone.

“I can’t explain it,” you sigh. “It almost felt… It almost felt like he was flirting with me- and maybe, maybe I gave him the wrong idea, I don’t know- it was weird.”

“Maybe you gave him the wrong idea,” Seungcheol repeats your words back to you. “Have you been flirting with the priest, princess?”

“I don’t think so-”

“You don’t think so,” Seungcheol scoffs. “Sounds like we all need to go have a talk with this fucking priest.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Jeonghan says, jumping to his feet and drawing all eyes. “I mean- come on, he’s a man of God, right? He probably wasn’t flirting with her-”

“Why so jumpy, Hannie?” Seungcheol turns to his friend, looking him up and down. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then you’ll have no problems if we go have a chat with him. All of us. Right now.” It’s clear that this isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order.

Seungcheol heads to the door, holding it open and looking at your group expectantly. Mingyu’s the first to sigh and head out. Jeonghan is next, and you can’t help but notice the slight skip to his step, as if he’s excited about what’s to come.

Wonwoo grabs your forearm, dragging you past Cheol. “Going to the chapel alone wasn’t a good idea,” he tells you. 

“I know,” you frown. “I knew that while I was there. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol falls into step on your other side, his gaze forward, jaw set. 

“You know how I feel about that man,” Wonwoo continues. 

You nod. “You don’t trust him.”

“Can you even imagine how any of us would react if something happened to you?” Wonwoo asks, his grip tightening on your forearm.

“Joshua is a priest,” you insist. “He wouldn’t do anything-”

“He’s more capable than you give him credit for. All survivors are,” Wonwoo states harshly. “We’re still alive for a reason. Some of us had to do bad things to get where we are now, and I wouldn’t be shocked if your priest has made choices that even his own God wouldn’t like.”

You can’t respond, because you know what Wonwoo’s saying is true.

In fact, if anyone on the base is able to spot a predator, it’s probably the man holding your arm. He’s a sniper, and it’s his job to see threats and dispose of them before they become a problem. 

The five of you are silent as you make your way through the prison, heading outside to walk the short distance to the chapel. When you get there, Jeonghan pushes the door open. He’s been here so many times that he has no problem entering the sacred space, but the rest of you are a little more hesitant.

Mingyu heads inside, leaving you on the doorstep with Seungcheol and Wonwoo.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Wonwoo states.

“You’ve never doubted me before, don’t start now,” Seungcheol grins. “A talk with this priest has been long overdue, don’t you think?”

“She doesn’t have to be here for this,” the sniper looks down at you.

“Of course she has to be here for this,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I know you don’t like Joshua, but you have to trust me on this.”

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, watching Seungcheol enter the chapel. When it’s just the two of you still outside, Wonwoo cups your cheek. “Whatever happens in there, it won’t change how I feel about you. How any of us feel about you.”

“What do you think is about to happen?” you ask, confused at the ominous tone that’s been set.

Your sniper simply stares at you for a few moments, then he looks down, a muscle in his jaw feathering. “With Seungcheol in charge, you never know.”

Wonwoo kisses you then, and he’s surprisingly gentle. You kiss him back, leaning against his strong chest- the door to the chapel opens and Mingyu pokes his head out, “Are you two coming, or what?”

With a sigh, you enter the church. Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua are standing by the podium in the front. They’re speaking too quietly for you to hear what they’re saying, but they all look up when you enter.

Joshua’s the first to smile. “Seungcheol has told me that you’re here for a real confession this time.”

“Hmm?” Your gaze shifts to the unit leader, and he grins.

“Go on, princess,” Seungcheol encourages. “The confession booth is all yours. We’ll be right here, for moral support.”

Wonwoo lets out an annoyed sound, but he doesn’t stop you as you stumble to follow through with Seungcheol’s command. You make your way to the confession booth, hand shaking as you pull away the long velvet curtain to step inside.

Your heart is racing wildly in your chest, but you try to be patient as you wait for the priest to enter his own side. 

When you hear Joshua sit down, you do your best to remember how this starts. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been… an hour since my last confession.”

There’s a distinctly Jeonghan-like snicker from outside the booth, and it sets your stomach into knots. 

You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress.

“When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.” 

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit.

“In my experience, the truth is what’s important,” Joshua muses smoothly.

“I think… I think I’m here right now because I told Seungcheol about coming to you earlier. There was something- something I couldn’t quite explain about the interaction.”

“Go on.”

“It almost…” you swallow thickly. “It almost felt like you were flirting with me, Father.”

“Greed and lust are most definitely your sins,” Joshua notes. “Would you have liked it if I was flirting with you?”

Someone whispers ‘what the fuck’ from outside the confessional, and you’re pretty sure it was Wonwoo. He’s voicing your own thoughts, and you scramble for a response.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you admit. 

“I’d like to tell you something, and I think you should consider it when looking at your sinful actions. Perhaps you can think of it as a way to release yourself from any shame you feel.” Joshua’s tone is soothing, and you hang onto what he’s about to say next. “While many men of my religion believe that God created the world and all its creatures in a matter of days, I think a lot can be learned from a Darwinian approach to life. Our closest ancestors are primates. They live in a warzone. Nothing is guaranteed but death. I’d be tempted to confess that their psychology isn’t that different from our own these days. Survivors of an apocalypse become no better than our primitive ancestors, and our behaviours are reflective of that. When certain species of female primates ovulate, and head out in search of a partner, do you know what they do?”

“Erm… no, Father.”

“The female bonobo primate will mate with as many fit males as possible. There are a number of reasons for this, but the primary one seems to be the need for protection. Not only for herself, but for future offspring. A male bonobo is less likely to throw out a baby if there’s a chance it could be his own. I would guess you’re using a contraceptive, but the psychology of a female in need of a band of male protectors in desperate times still applies. It’s animal nature, and the world we live in now has turned us all into animals. Instincts take precedence over logic. You might be greedy and lustful, but I would argue that you’ve needed to be in order to secure your survival.” 

“I…” you clear your throat, mind spinning at what he’s just suggested so eloquently. “I can’t believe you’re comparing us all to primates.”

“And how do you know so much about monkeys?” Mingyu asks loudly from outside the confessional, earning a chorus of snickers.

“If you won’t accept this comparison as… a justification of your greedy and lustful ways, then how about you try to explain it yourself?” Joshua suggests, ignoring everyone but you.

“I think… maybe I just like to be fucked,” you admit. “I think we all come at this from different backgrounds, with different motives for what we do.”

Joshua lets out an understanding sigh. “And what are your friend’s motives?”

“Mingyu likes companionship. He’s like me. He needs reassurance, needs physical touch. Jeonghan likes the fun of it all. He likes enjoying himself, likes to indulge. Wonwoo… I think it started as something just physical for him. A way to distract himself from the pressure he has on his shoulders. And Seungcheol likes to dominate. He likes to feel as if he’s won at something. I’m guessing he sees this whole thing as a punishment.”

“A punishment?” Joshua enquires. “For you?”

“For me mostly,” you nod. “He likes to humiliate me in certain ways, and I think this might be one of them. He also likes to challenge God, he’s not a believer, so I’m guessing he’s enjoying this because we’re bringing sin into a place of worship. He’s in control right now. Not you, not me, not even Wonwoo-”

“Is Wonwoo also receiving this punishment?” the priest asks.

“Of course he is. Wonwoo doesn’t like you, that’s no secret, Father.”

“What did the two of you do to deserve such a punishment?”

“I admitted that I probably flirted with you a little,” you say quietly, your skin heating at the admission. “And Wonwoo’s been taking more of my time recently, been talking back to Seungcheol in ways that Seungcheol hasn’t liked.”

“It’s quite the dynamic you’ve found yourself a part of,” Joshua muses. “An entanglement of wants, needs… indulgences. If you have such a good understanding of Seungcheol, how do you think this whole thing will play out for you?”

“I think he’d like for me to confess in deeper detail, confess my personal sins instead of talking about the others so much. I think he’d like for me to feel dirty, and when this confession is over, I’m guessing he’ll prove how dirty I am, here in this church, for all your eyes and God to see.”

“How would you feel about that?” Joshua asks.

“Humiliated… excited…” you consider the emotions running through you. “I’d feel like I’d done something to deserve it, which I have.”

“A simple thing like flirting doesn’t constitute a punishment of this magnitude. What other sins have you partaken in? If you know Seungcheol wants details, you should give us all details.”

You take a deep breath. “I’ve done practically everything a lustful greedy sinner could do to deserve this. I’ve had more orgies than I can count. I’ve had three men inside of me at once. I’ve been filled with cum over and over and over again. I’ve been insatiable, always greedy and ready to take more. I’ve been fucked to the point of passing out, only to awaken and go another round. I’ve reveled in the fact that I have four men who like watching me get fucked, who touch themselves to the view of their friends fucking me to the point where I can’t talk or walk. I’ve become a fuck toy instead of doing actual survivor work in the prison, giving into my own greedy desires instead of the good of others. I’ve had sex in all sorts of places that I never thought I’d have sex in-”

“Like this church,” Joshua interrupts you. “You’ve desecrated it before.”

“I-” your heart thunders in your chest. 

“Admit it,” the priest insists.

“Father, I-”

“You’ve been a very, very bad girl.” 

You hate that you’re getting wet from this. There’s a feeling of relief that’s come from confessing your lustful ways, and now Joshua’s deeper tone is setting you on edge. He’s degrading you, like Cheol does, but it feels more extreme coming from a man of God- from a priest who clearly knows you’ve been fucked in his place of worship.

“What’s the correct penance for a naughty whore like her?” Seungcheol’s voice makes your skin tingle. He opens the confessional fabric screen, staring down at you. His thumbs are hooked in his belt, and the way the light hits him from behind makes him look shockingly angelic and demonic at the same time. It illuminates his broad shoulders, the soft curls of his hair- but his face is shadowed.

“Sir-” you whisper, cowering against the back of the booth.

“It’s clear that she’s insatiable,” Joshua responds smoothly, shifting on his side of the confessional. “I’d say you’re within your right to do anything you want to her. As long as I’m here, the dirty ways you choose to defile her will be penance, a Godly act.”

“A Godly act,” Seungcheol grins, turning to look over his shoulder at the others. “I don’t know why you’re so offput by this priest, Wonwoo, he makes all the sense in the world to me.” The unit leader’s eyes find you again. “Now, what to do with our naughty little whore of a princess.”

“I think you know what we’re going to do to her,” Jeonghan says sinisterly from outside the booth.

“Yes, but in what order… decisions, decisions.” Seungcheol cocks his head to the side. “I think I’ll have you first, pretty girl. I was the first one to have you in the beginning, it’s only fair that I have you first now.”

You can’t help yourself, you drop to your knees, shuffling forward. Seungcheol’s grin widens, and he looks down at you while you begin to undo his belt. 

“Good girl,” he muses, threading his fingers through your hair as you pull down his pants. He’s already hard, his cock springing up toward your face. You can feel yourself beginning to drool, and you grab his base, guiding him to your mouth. 

Seungcheol releases a low groan as you begin to blow him in the confessional. You don’t hold anything back. You sink down on him as much as you can, suctioning your lips around him and swirling your tongue. Even so, it’s not enough for Seungcheol. His grip tightens in your hair, holding you still so he can begin to fuck your face.

You moan around his cock, relaxing your throat so he can go as deep as he wants- and Seungcheol always likes to test your limits.

Your hands find his strong thighs, looking for something to anchor yourself while he uses you for his own pleasure. 

“Letting me fuck your face in a confessional, this is a new low, even for you, princess,” Seungcheol laughs, pulling you off his cock. “Open.”

You part your lips, sticking out your tongue. Seungcheol spits into your mouth.

“Now swallow,” he instructs, smirking as you follow through with the command. “Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you, Sir,” you whimper.

“Keep that in mind tonight,” he warns, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He squeezes you roughly, and then pulls you to your feet. Seungcheol thrusts you out of the confessional, holding you against his chest while your eyes take in the men all crowded outside. “Who do you want after I’m done with you?”

You can’t help but shift your gaze to Wonwoo, not because you want him to be next in line, but because you’re worried about how this is affecting him. He’d been more riled up than you’ve ever seen him before when you’d entered the chapel, and now that it’s clear Joshua will be joining this orgy, you wonder how he’s feeling.

Seungcheol follows your eyes. “Wonwoo goes last,” the unit leader announces.

“The priest goes last,” Wonwoo retorts, the words coming out in something near a growl.

“Now I see what she meant about him talking back,” Joshua muses as he steps out of his side of the booth. “Is that any way to speak to your superior?”

Wonwoo clenches his jaw tightly. If looks could kill, the priest would be dead, but it simply makes the man standing next to you laugh. The sound causes an ache in the pit of your stomach.

Jealousy has never been a part of this dynamic- that’s what makes this whole thing work. You worry about the implications this night will have on the rest of your time in the prison, worry about your safety going forward.

“Okay, princess,” Seungcheol brings his lips to your ear, his hands sneaking down the front of your dress and gripping the fabric, “I’m done waiting.”

In one quick motion, he reaches under your skirt, grabbing your panties and tearing them off. Then he pushes you forward, bending you at a ninety degree angle while he brings his cock to your soaked core. 

“I knew you’d be wet from this,” Seungcheol laughs, rubbing his tip through your pussy lips. “You know, priest, she wasn’t lying when she said she revels in the act of being watched. She goes fucking crazy for it. Let me show you just how crazy she gets.”

Seungcheol sinks his cock into your tight hole and you moan desperately, trying your best to hold yourself up in this position with your fingertips to the floor. The unit leader’s hands are on your hips, and he begins to rut into you roughly, forcing squeaks and moans of pleasure to slip out of you.

“Tell us how much you love this,” Seungcheol prompts.

“Fuck, I love it so much- oh my god-”

“Bet you’d love it more if you had something to suck on.”

Jeonghan and Mingyu both step forward immediately, and you feel Seungcheol’s hand leave your hips as he points at the elder of the two. “You.”

“Thank God,” Jeonghan grins, already working on his belt. “It’s been too long since I fucked your face in this church, kitten.”

“Put your hands behind your back,” Seungcheol instructs.

“I can’t-” you’re hardly stable and standing as it is, bent over like this.

“Give me one wrist,” the leader insists, grabbing it as soon as you’ve presented it to him. “And now the other.” With both your hands caught in a bruising grip, Seungcheol helps stabilize you, holding you up from behind. Your muscles are already beginning to ache, but when Jeonghan slips his cock into your mouth, you nearly forget about the burn.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” Jeonghan groans, thrusting gently in comparison to the man fucking your pussy. 

“She likes it too, gets all tight and wet whenever you hit the back of her throat,” Seungcheol laughs. “She loves being used like this.”

You can only moan like a whore around Jeonghan, an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Gyu’s already touching himself, princess,” the unit leader tells you. “You love it when he gets needy and can’t wait.”

You do, you love it more than you can ever put into words-

“Tell her how good she looks like this,” Seungcheol demands.

“You look so fucking good,” Mingyu groans. “Our perfect little baby-”

“Your perfect little whore,” the priest laughs. 

“Mingyu’s too soft on her,” Seungcheol says with a grunt, fucking you so hard that your legs begin to shake. “He always has been, and he always will be.”

Great, now Seungcheol’s degrading Mingyu too. He’s not usually like this. You’re not sure why he’s in such a mood today- or why he has such good compatibility with Joshua.

“Enough talk, fuck,” Jeonghan groans. “If you’re not going to cum in her soon, I will.”

“You know I only cum when she begs,” Seungcheol retorts.

Jeonghan is quick to pull you off his cock, fisting your hair while tendrils of spit keep you tied to his throbbing tip. 

“Fuck, please, sir- I can hardly stand- please, I need your cum-”

Seungcheol laughs darkly. “You can do better than that.”

“Sir, I’ll die without it. I need it- I need it deep inside, please, I want you dripping out of me for days-”

His speed increases as you babble pathetically, and you can feel your core tightening around him. 

“I’m gonna cum- fuck, Sir, please, please cum with me, please- please let me cum-”

“Cum on my cock, dirty girl, show everyone how much you love getting fucked like this.”

As your orgasm slams into you, so does Jeonghan’s cock. He fills your mouth, muffling your sounds of pleasure while Seungcheol fills your pussy. Your entire body is thrumming with hot energy, alight with the ecstasy that your lovers always provide.

You can feel your wet walls milking Seungcheol’s cock, and his low groans only make your pussy throb harder, your orgasm lasting so long that it almost hurts.

It’s hard to breathe with Jeonghan fucking your face, but the lack of oxygen only adds to the copious stimulus, and you can already feel yourself beginning to cry a little from how good it all is.

The moment Seungcheol’s finished, Jeonghan is tearing himself away from your mouth. “My turn, my turn-” he insists, tugging you off of Seungcheol only to flip you around with your back to his chest. He bends you over in the same manner that his superior did, sliding his cock into your cum filled hole. “Fuck-”

“Hannie-” you whimper, legs still shaky.

“I know, I know,” he coos at you. “I’ll give you what you want.”

His hand wraps around your body, fingers finding your aching clit. You’d cum from penetration alone with Seungcheol, and your sensitive bud had been throbbing at the missed action- now, each rub of Jeonghan’s digits has you crying out.

“Need you to cum again,” Jeonghan tells you. “You can do that for me, right? Cum on my cock just like you did for Cheol- you’re a good girl, aren’t you, kitten?”

“I’m good,” you insist, on the verge of tears again.

Suddenly, hands are cupping your face, and you open your eyes to see Mingyu on his knees in front of you. He wipes your tears away with his thumb, pressing his lips to yours. “Wanna see you cum, baby,” he murmurs.

There’s nothing like a gentle touch after the number Cheol just did on you, and something about Mingyu’s words tip you over the edge. You gasp against his lips, pussy clamping down on Jeonghan like a vice while he groans loudly.

You feel him spilling deep inside of you, pressing his hips flush to your ass while your walls contract around his cock. “Fucking hell-” Jeonghan grunts, thrusting shallowly while orgasms surge through you both.

Mingyu kisses you deeper, his large hand finding the back of your neck, stroking you while his tongue invades your mouth. You get lost in the kiss while your orgasm subsides, and when Jeonghan pulls out of you, you crumple down onto your knees.

“Come here,” Mingyu says softly, collecting you into his lap while he sits against the wood floor. There’s no cushioning tonight, no jacket placed down to make things easy on you. Your knees hurt as they dig against the hardwood, but part of you thinks you deserve the pain while you wriggle against Mingyu, immediately grinding on his hard cock while cum begins to drip out of you.

Mingyu grabs your dress, tearing it off your body to reveal your naked form to the house of God. Your hand finds his cock, pumping him desperately-

“Two loads are never enough,” Seungcheol muses, but his words feel distant while you kiss Mingyu. “Look at her, stroking him off- I bet she can’t even last a minute before taking him next.”

He’s right. You hate that he’s right. 

Although, in this instance, you don’t want to fuck Mingyu only for yourself, you want to fuck him for him too. He’s clearly as needy as you are tonight, moaning sinfully when you kiss down his throat, finding his sweet spot and sucking it.

“Can you take me, baby?” he asks. “It’s okay if you can’t-”

God, you love him. 

He doesn’t realize that you have something to prove. Doesn’t realize that tonight, failure is not an option.

You lift yourself up enough to bring his tip to your core, and then you sink down on every glorious inch he has to offer. 

Mingyu practically whimpers into the kiss, and the sound of it releases something feral inside of you. Suddenly you don’t care about your knees getting bruised on the floor, you simply want to fuck this man like you’ve never fucked him before.

Your hands find his shoulders, and you push him onto the ground. Your hips begin to move and you tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him desperately while you ride him. His cock is so big- so long and hard, that it gives you a lot to work with. There’s no fear of it slipping out, no fear of losing him- he’s yours, completely. 

Mingyu is groaning into the kiss, his hands skimming down your back and grabbing your ass, helping you with each thrust.

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan breathes. “I didn’t know she could ride like that.”

“That’s cuz you like to fuck her face,” Seungcheol retorts.

“Still,” Jeonghan insists, “look at our little superstar go.”

Their words make you more confident, and you push yourself up using Mingyu’s shoulders as leverage. You throw your head back, moaning loudly in the sanctity of the church. You’re aware that you’re giving every man watching a full view of you now, your breasts bouncing, hips rutting wildly as you claw at Mingyu’s chest-

You open your eyes. Seungcheol’s sitting on a pew, his boots up on the bench in front of him, where Joshua is perched. Wonwoo’s leaning against the confessional, arms crossed over his chest. Jeonghan is simply sitting on the floor a few feet away. They’re all watching you intently.

“Gyu,” Seungcheol says suddenly, taking off his dog tag and throwing it at the two of you, “put this around her neck.”

“What?” Mingyu tilts his head to the side, a large, muscled arm reaching out across the church floor to grab the chain.

“In case our little whore loses track of who’s already filled her up,” Seungcheol explains, although, you’re pretty sure that won’t be a problem. 

No, as Seungcheol’s dogtag is placed around your neck, followed quickly by Jeonghan’s, you think this must be another way of your men to claim you as theirs.

Joshua doesn’t have a dog tag, his mark won’t be around your neck like a collar showing off who you belong to.

As you ride Mingyu, the dogtags bounce against your breasts, the metal clinking softly together. The material is cool against your hot skin, and you hate that you enjoy it like this.

Mingyu sits up abruptly, burying his face in your tits. His mouth wraps around your nipple and you claw at his hair, throwing your head back and moaning. “Fuck, puppy-”

You hardly ever call him by that petname, but it feels fitting like this. Mingyu groans, palming your other breast with his hand, and it’s a confirmation that he enjoys the term. 

“You’re so deep-” you continue, knowing he also loves praise. “You fill me up so good-”

Mingyu’s arms wrap around the small of your back, and then he’s rolling the two of you so he’s in the top position. He adjusts your thighs, pressing one up against your chest as he begins to fuck into you hard and deep, hitting spots that have you clawing at the floor.

Part of you wants to leave a mark on the wooden planks outside the confessional, a constant reminder to Joshua that you’ve desecrated this holy place. That he’s allowed you to do so, that he’s even sanctioned it. 

Mingyu’s lips find your throat, and a shiver runs through you. One hand threads through his hair, massaging his scalp while he fucks his friends’ cum deep into your core. Your other hand lifts from the floor, sneaking between your bodies to find your clit.

Your pussy clenches at the touch, and Mingyu groans lewdly, fucking you even harder.

“I’m close, puppy,” you tell him, panting in his ear. “I’m so fucking close-”

“Me too,” he whimpers, sucking on your ear. “Me too, baby, fuck- you feel so good-”

“You feel good too,” you assure him, applying more pressure to your clit. “So, so good, Gyu-”

“Shit, I can’t-”

“Cum for me, puppy, please, just cum for me-” you beg, drawing his lips to yours as he groans loudly, shooting his load into your pussy.

His thrusts are rough and erratic, and he triggers your own orgasm, making you gasp into the kiss. The two of you are panting, tongue tied and animalistic as you work through your shared high. 

You claw at his back- it’s as though you need him closer, you want to devour him even though he’s as physically close to you as he ever possibly could be.

Mingyu’s large form shudders as his orgasm subsides, and you know he’s on the verge of overstimulation. He’d kept fucking you for your sake, not his own, and you kiss him lovingly at the thought. 

The two of you have a close bond. You take care of eachother, and you always will. 

Mingyu finally breaks the kiss, looking down at you while he catches his breath. “I-” he swallows thickly. There’s a deep emotion brewing behind his chocolate brown eyes, and you wonder if he’ll voice it for the first time, in front of everyone else. “Wonwoo hyung probably wants you now.”

Your adoring puppy boy pulls out of you, and you whimper at the loss. He sits back on his heels, looking down at you, then he takes off his dog tag, gently placing it around your neck to join the others.

You turn to look at Wonwoo, and he smiles at you softly from where he’s leaning on the confessional. “Hey, beautiful, can you walk?”

You nod, allowing Mingyu to help you up onto shaky legs. You’re aware of the cum beginning to drip down your thighs with each step you take, but you can’t bring yourself to care. When you finally make it to Wonwoo, you throw your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the way he hugs you, twirling you around so you’re now the one pressed up against the confession booth.

His lips meet yours. It’s not a hungry kiss, not at first. It’s a kiss that speaks a thousand words, and yet, none at all. It’s a kiss that reassures you that everything he said at the door before you entered the church was true. 

‘Whatever happens in there, it won’t change how I feel about you.’

When you’d started all of this six months ago, the last person you expected to have a true soft spot for was Wonwoo. He’s not a huge talker, but when he does speak, he’s sincere. It’s one of your favourite things about him- well, that, and the way that his arms have started to feel like the first home you’ve experienced since the outbreak.

His hand cups the back of your head, and the kiss deepens. You press your bare chest against his own, moaning at the contact. Wonwoo grins, nibbling at your bottom lip while his fingers begin to trail down your body.

He’s soft as he circles your clit, and it leaves you wanting more, rutting your hips against him. It’s all too easy for Wonwoo to slip his fingers into your dripping pussy, and the squelching sound your core makes has your skin heating with embarrassment. But Wonwoo clearly doesn’t care about the noise as he begins to pump his hand, curling his digits to reach your gspot.

You grab his shoulders, legs already feeling shaky. You’re moaning too much now for him to kiss you properly, so his lips find your throat.

Whimpers and wet sounds fill the church, and as Wonwoo’s pace increases, you realize what his intention is. The sniper has always had skilled fingers, and it’s not uncommon for him to make you squirt- you can already feel your pussy beginning to drench his hand, but you’re not sure if it’s your cum or someone elses.

All you know is that it feels amazing. The pressure in your stomach is like hot ecstasy, and each rough pump of his fingers has your body tingling with pleasure. 

“Fuck, Wonwoo-” you moan, words caught as he palms your clit. Your eyes clench shut, you feel more liquid squirting out of you, can feel the impact of it hitting the floor, sending droplets that skirt by your toes-

“That’s going to be a bitch to clean up, Shua,” Jeonghan notes with a snicker.

You can feel your lover grinning by your throat- maybe this was his intention all along. 

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, shocked at the amount of squirt that’s left your body. “Too much-”

The sniper doesn’t hesitate when he hears this, he simply pulls his fingers from your core, presenting them to your lips as he pushes his pants down with his free hand.

You suck greedily on his fingers, tasting the mix of cum you find there. 

Wonwoo pulls his hand away too quickly, reaching down to grab your thighs and lift you off the ground. He pushes you against the confession both, pressing his cock into your hole while his lips attack yours again.

God, it feels good not to be standing. Your legs were starting to feel like jelly, and now, you can focus on the cock filling you up. You just get to relax against the soft wooden booth and take what Wonwoo is giving you.

The kiss is a hungry one, his tongue battling yours as he finds a quick pace. You’ve been fucked by three other men already, but it still feels so good to have Wonwoo inside of you like this. 

You tangle your fingers in his soft curls, moaning desperately while he rails you against the confession booth. Your mind goes pleasantly blank. With Wonwoo, no words have to be said, you can feel what he’s expressing, can feel how much he cares for you. 

The angle he’s holding you in has his cock hitting deep, teasing that special spot that has your toes curling. Each smack of his hips against your own has your clit being teased, a consistent pressure that’s quickly tightening the knot in your abdomen again.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper.

“You’re close?” he asks, sounding a little shocked as he breaks the kiss to look at you.

“Sensitive,” you remind him, pouting out your lower lip as you cup his cheek. “You feel so good.”

He releases a groan, kissing you again. 

Wonwoo’s not Cheol. He doesn’t make you beg for an orgasm. He’ll simply give it to you- kiss you stupid while his body does the work of getting you to cloud nine. 

You allow the orgasm to build naturally. There’s no demanding that it comes, no countdowns or ‘cum with me’s- Wonwoo cumming with you is a given. He has selfcontrol, and he holds out till the moment your pussy clamps down on his cock.

The two of you groan into each other’s mouths, Wonwoo’s fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he fucks you through it. You cling to him desperately while he eats up all your sounds of pleasure. 

For a moment, you’re not some free-use whore being tossed around a group of men in a church- it’s just you and Wonwoo.

You get lost in him, your orgasm feeling endless- but all good things must end, and soon, Wonwoo’s motions stop. His cock stays buried inside of you, his body pressing your own against the confessional while you both breathe heavily between kisses.

Finally, Wonwoo pulls away. He stares at you for a moment, more unspoken communication making your heart swell. He sets you onto your feet gently, helping you stand with one hand while he does up his pants.

Then he takes off his dog tag, leaning in close as he puts it around your neck. “I hate this,” he whispers, and you can’t be sure that he’s only talking about the act of owning you with the chain on your throat.

Wonwoo moves away, and you open your mouth to say more- but you’re cut off by someone clearing their throat. Your gaze shifts to Seungcheol, who stands from the pew he was sitting at. “One more to go, princess.”

Joshua grins, stepping forward. “How should we do this?”

It takes a moment for you to realize he’s not asking you. Seungcheol lets up a deep breath. “Honestly, knowing my insatiable princess, I’d say she could take both of us. You can fuck her ass, priest, but her pussy belongs to us.”

You hate the tingle of excitement that runs through you, your eyes dipping to the front of Seungcheol’s pants, where he’s already growing hard again. 

“You’re the boss,” Joshua muses, watching the unit leader step toward you.

Seungcheol takes you into his arms, one hand cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. “You’ve been so good for us,” he says softly. “Gonna keep being good, right?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck so you can bring him in for a kiss.

The touch of your lips is short-lived. Seungcheol gets down onto the ground, lying flat while he helps you on top of him. “I’ll fuck this pretty pussy,” he announces, undoing his belt for the second time tonight, “and you can lube up Joshua with a taste of your mouth.”

“Okay, sir,” you whimper, looking down between your bodies to watch him pull out his cock. The moment it’s free, he lines it up with your core, his warm hands finding your hips to help you sink onto him.

You both let out moans of pleasure, your eyes closing as you begin to bob up and down slowly. 

The sound of another belt being undone draws your gaze to Joshua, who’s come to stand next to you and Cheol. “Open wide,” he tells you, grabbing the base of his cock and pumping.

You look up at the priest, doing as you’re told. His eyes stay fixed on yours as he slowly pushes his cock past your lips. He doesn’t go in all the way, only giving you half, and waiting expectantly for you to begin sucking him off.

As you hollow your cheeks, digging your nails into Seungcheol’s chest for leverage, the unit leader begins rutting up into you. You can’t help but moan around Joshua’s cock, and you watch as he lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing the back of your head so he can hold you still. He begins to fuck your face, and once again, you’re just a fuck toy caught between two alpha males.

You know what comes next, know that Joshua will be in your ass soon, so you do your best to lube him up with your spit. It’s clear that your wet mouth is driving the priest into a frenzy, his cock hitting the back of your throat now with each thrust.

You’re doing your best not to gag, your eyes welling with tears that you blink away as you gaze up at the priest. 

“She’s so pretty when she cries,” Joshua muses, wiping away one of the tears with his thumb.

“Our little princess is always pretty,” Seungcheol insists with a grunt, forcing you to take his cock fully, keeping you pinned on his hips. “Are you going to fuck her ass or not?”

Joshua pulls himself from your mouth, clearly amused by the lines of drool that still connect him to you. “Be good for us,” Joshua says sweetly.

Seungcheol tugs you to his chest, his hands moving to your ass where he spreads your cheeks for the man who sinks to his knees behind you. 

You feel Joshua’s tip rub against your hole, and you do your best to breathe normally, relaxing your body so you can take him as he slowly pushes inside.

There’s nothing in the world like being full- with cum, with cock, with everything-

“This is too hot,” Jeonghan’s voice makes you look up. “Wanna suck me off too, kitten? If you don’t, I might bust all over myself from this view alone.”

At this point, your mind is fuzzy, and you can’t help but nod, sitting up and opening your mouth for Jeonghan.

“There’s our good kitten,” he grins, immediately whipping out his dick and slotting it past your lips. “Fuck, so fucking good for us. I know you love it when you get three cocks at once. Our little kitten with her kink for being completely full-”

At this point, there are no thoughts swirling around in your head, only the feeling of three men filling you up to their heart’s desire. Seungcheol and Joshua find a push-pull motion that has tension building in your abdomen much too easily. Jeonghan, meanwhile, is fucking you slowly, taking his time and releasing groans as you suck him off.

The tip of Jeonghan’s cock hits the back of your throat, and your body convulses, making both Joshua and Seungcheol moan loudly. Their fingers dig into your skin, you can feel hot breath against your chest and shoulders.

“You know,” Seungcheol groans, “A priest really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Not so willingly, at least,” Jeonghan adds.

“Well,” Joshua sighs loudly, “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you all that I’m not actually a priest.”

“What?” Jeonghan and Seungcheol stop thrusting, and you sputter as Jeonghan’s cock slips from your lips, taking haggard breaths.

“It’s not like any of you asked for a resume when I showed up here,” Joshua jokes.

“That’s because you were dressed as a fucking priest?!” Seungcheol’s voice is raising now, his fingers digging into your ass while Joshua continues to fuck you nonchalantly.

“I’ve been quite convincing, wouldn’t you say?” You’d bet your life that the ‘priest’ is wearing a shit-eating grin, but at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care.

“Sir,” you whimper, clawing at his chest.

Seungcheol swallows thickly. “We’re gonna make her cum, but you and I are going to have a talk about this later, priest.”

Jeonghan presents his cock to you again, and you take it into your mouth. You suck on him hard, wanting to get him as close to the edge as you are. In response, Jeonghan begins to fuck your face again, hitting the back of your throat so your body clenches around Joshua and Seungcheol.

“Fuck,” the unit leader moans, landing a slap across your ass that has your mind spinning. “Need you to cum for us,” he tells you. “Need you to be a good little cock whore and take what we give you.”

You moan loudly around Jeonghan, getting lost in the feeling of being so completely full that you can’t think straight.

Seungcheol lets go of your ass, bringing his thumb to your clit-

The first rough drag of his digit across the sensitive bud triggers your orgasm, and you practically scream around Jeonghan, entire body fizzling with electric energy.

“Fuck-” Jeonghan groans, giving one last thrust before he cums down your throat, holding your head so your nose touches his pelvis, not allowing you to go anywhere as you sputter and take what he gives you.

Seungcheol and Joshua let out moans of their own, and you can feel the heat of them cumming too, filling up both of your holes to a point that’s almost dizzying. 

Jeonghan pulls out of your mouth and you immediately slump down against Seungcheol’s chest, body shaking as you struggle to breathe. Joshua also retreats. You can feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks, too many emotions swirling around in your post orgasmic haze for you to even keep track of.

“Sit up for me, princess, let’s get a look at you,” Seungcheol insists, stroking your back.

With a deep breath, you slowly sit up, rubbing at your eyes.

Joshua comes to stand in front of you, an expression akin to concern on his face. “You’re forgiven for your sins,” he tells you.

Wonwoo scoffs loudly.

The priest reaches up, taking off his cross necklace. As he begins to hold it over your head, intent on adding his claim to the four that already hang around your throat, Wonwoo grabs his hand roughly. Then your sniper tears the cross from Joshua’s grasp, throwing it across the church. “Don’t even fucking try it,” Wonwoo growls. “She doesn’t belong to you. This was a one-time thing.”

“And you’re the one making decisions now?” Seungcheol glares, sitting up and pressing his palms flat to the floor behind himself to balance, his abs moving under pretty skin. 

“Kitten should choose,” Jeonghan agrees. “Like she did at the start.”

“Look at her,” Wonwoo insists, voice breaking. “We all fucked her brains out. She’s not making any big decisions right now. In fact-” Wonwoo reaches down and picks your dress off the ground, helping you put it on, “We’re taking her home. Gyu.”

Your largest lover encircles his arms around you, lifting you up and off Cheol without a question asked. You tuck in close to his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying the bridal style of the carry. 

“Clearly this wasn’t punishment enough for your subordinate who likes to talk back,” Joshua muses, speaking to Cheol while he watches you, Wonwoo and Mingyu head toward the church doors.

Wonwoo’s fist clenches at his side, Mingyu looks back, but no one says anything else. You pass out in Mingyu’s arms while they carry you back to the Z1 dorm. Mingyu lays you on a bed softly, immediately cuddling up to your side. He begins to stroke your hair and you open your eyes when you feel a warm cloth cleaning your inner thighs.

“Hey, beautiful,” Wonwoo looks up at you. “How are you feeling.”

“Okay,” you murmur.

Wonwoo frowns, exchanging a look with Mingyu. 

“Did i say something wrong?” you ask.

“No, it’s just…” Wonwoo swallows thickly, “usually you say ‘good’ or ‘great’ or ‘amazing.’”

“Oh. sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to us.” Wonwoo finishes cleaning up the mess between your legs, and he tosses the cloth on the floor, getting onto the bed with you. You curl up against his chest, and Mingyu presses to your back, his soft fingers caressing you. “We shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Wonwoo insists. “But we shouldn’t talk about this right now. You need rest.”

The mention of sleeping makes you yawn, and you close your eyes, enjoying the warmth that your protectors provide. “Goodnight.”

Mingyu presses a kiss to your shoulder as you begin to drift off. “Goodnight, baby.”

Epilogue

It’s been a week since the orgy in the church, and you’ve spent every night since then cuddled between Wonwoo and Mingyu, thinking heavily about yourself and the relationship you have with the men in your life.

You wake up on the seventh day with your mind set. Wonwoo’s already awake, sitting silently and staring at the wall while acting as your pillow. He looks down at you when you stir, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Hi, handsome,” you retort, loving the way his new petname tastes on your lips. “Can I… can I be vulnerable with you for a moment?”

“Always,” he assures you, nudging Mingyu to wake him up.

The man behind you groans, but presses kisses to your shoulder nonetheless. “What’s happening?”

“Baby has something to tell us,” Wonwoo says softly.

“Okay, baby.” Mingyu speckles more kisses along your skin, tucking closer to your back.

“I think… I think I need to end things with Jeonghan and Seungcheol.” You’re shocked at the resolve in your tone, but at the same time, the declaration feels right. 

“What?” Mingyu holds you tighter, kisses ceasing.

“When I entered this dynamic, I never thought I’d pick favourites,” you explain, “but I think it’s clear that I have. It’s clear to me now that you two care for me in a different way than they do- and… I’d rather focus on this, what we three have, then betray myself with them any longer.”

You’re proud of yourself for putting all your chaotic thoughts into such simple words, and you wait patiently for a response.

“I think that’s a good decision,” Wonwoo says finally, letting out a shaky breath. 

“I just feel like- I mean, I love Jeonghan, I love Seungcheol, but I’m not in love with them. Not in the way that I’m in love with you guys… and I think… I think you’re both in love with me too.”

Mingyu lets out a soft groan. “It’s been hard not to say it.”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t,” you whisper, reaching to thread your fingers with his hand resting on your hip.

“It wasn’t you,” Mingyu reassures, “it was the way the five of us worked. It didn’t feel like there was room to say it.”

“Well you can say it now.”

“I love you,” Mingyu groans, squeezing your hand. “Fuck, I do. I do love you. A stupid amount.”

“I love you too,” you grin, light airy energy surging through your body. You find yourself looking up at Wonwoo. “Do you love me?”

“Is that even a question?” He lets out a small laugh, cupping your cheek. “I’ve been in love with you for months.”

“I wish we’d all said it earlier,” you admit. “I came into this living each day like it might be my last, but I neglected to do the one thing that’s most important- I didn’t tell either of you how I felt, and I promise I’m going to make up for it every day I have with the two of you.”

You’ll talk to Jeonghan and Seungcheol later. You can deal with whatever reactions they have, as long as Mingyu and Wonwoo are by your side.

Seungcheol has always called you insatiable. He’s made you feel like a needy whore who couldn’t get enough- and yet, that final penance was more than enough. It made you realize that you are satiated- by love, not lust. 

You’ve paid your dues, your penance is complete, and now, even during an apocalypse, you can finally try to secure a life for yourself that you always wished for, with your two protectors. You can finally be happy, and fulfilled. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I really don't know how this happened, but uh.... I want them. If you liked this one, I've done this pairing before here

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🔮 preview. It’s practically perfect to have Mingyu worshiping between your thighs while Wonwoo is the anchor at your back, whispering soft nothings in your ear and massaging your breasts. This is what love is, and you’re so fucking happy you’ve found it.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, pussy eating, oral, deep throating, fingering, breast play/worship, overstim, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of old bdsm style ‘rules’/begging, soft boy lovers, dirty talk, praise, size kink, hand job, stroking wonwoo while mingyu rails you, multiple sex positions (sideways, doggy, etc…),   I petnames. (hers) beautiful, baby, etc… (mingyu’s) puppy. (wonwoo’s) handsome.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.4k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. Mingyu & Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

You love the feeling of sun on your face. The warmth reminds you of your two lovers, who hang back, sitting on a barricade a hundred feet away. There are no supply runs today, so Mingyu and Wonwoo have taken to shadowing you at a respectful distance, giving you and Hansol your space to putter around the garden and tend to the growing food.

“You seem happier lately,” Hansol muses as he digs holes to plant beet seeds Wonwoo had found for you on his last trip to the city.

“I am,” you admit, gazing over at the two men who are chatting and laughing together. “It’s nice to be spending more time in the garden again.”

“And I see you’ve picked up your cafeteria tasks with Seokmin again,” Hansol points out. “I know he missed you for a few months.”

“Yeah, I had a lot going on at the time.”

You’ve never outwardly spoken with Hansol about your prior arrangement with Z1, but you can tell he’s noticed Seungcheol and Jeonghan not pulling you away anymore. Your closest survivor friends are too respectful to ask for details, but it’s been a few weeks since you’d ‘broken up’ with the elder Z1’s, and you think you’re finally ready to talk about it a little.

“My priorities weren’t straight,” you continue.

“But it looks like they are now,” Hansol says, straightening to look at the men on the barricade. “You all look a lot happier.”

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[keferon]

I think Orion Pax should traumatize the kids by dying, or at least seemingly dying, at some point in the apocalyptic ponyo AU. Because he's Optimus Prime and sacrificing oneself to save others is the most Optimus Prime thing to do.

I imagine it'd happen after he reunited with his kiddos and met their new fish dad, and life isn't exactly good because, well, *gestures at the surrounding apocalypse*, but at least they're together and safer than if they were alone. And then one day while they're resting under some building that *looked* solid enough, some rubble begins falling on them. So Orion makes them run away as fast as their little legs can, and then when there's no time anymore he just jumps on the last one to at least take the hit in the kid's place.

The dust finally settles behind the group and Soundwave reflexively does a headcount only to realize that they're missing two people, which he notices just a fraction of a second faster than Shockwave, who got woken up by the sudden noise. So they go back. They hear the quivering "Mister Pax...?" before they can even see the mass of dusty clothes and limbs. The last kid is there, scared but safe, stuck beneath Orion's limp, broken and bloody body.

Of course Orion isn't hurt *too* badly, it probably looks worse than it is, but that's still one more nightmare for everyone. Unless he *is* hurt badly, and that's how the group meets a medic 👀 Either way, this is the last time Shockwave lets his humans enter a building without thoroughly checking its stability. He'd rather keep them all safe himself. And if he's fussing over Orion even more than before, well, Orion isn't going to complain.

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT OKAY I SEE THE VISION

But also what if we make it their first interaction? CONSIDER. Orion suddenly finds a bunch of those kids and saves them from that collapsing building right? But gets stuck under the rubble because Blue wasn’t fast enough so Orion basically becomes his alive shield.

And that would very much be the end for him because all those concrete walls and roof are fucking HEAVY but little did he know. Kids got adopted by a giant fish while he wasn’t there haha

So Shockwave saves both Orion and Blue and then Orion has this absolutely hilarious moment of realisation when he wakes up’,:)

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach. 

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No. 

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free. 

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension. 

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall. 

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it. 

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side. 

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood. 

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?" 

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold. 

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?" 

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear. 

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring. 

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp. 

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm. 

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

B

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak into the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"But if they don't manage to kill her... her punishment for me will be worse." "Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

[meet-me-backstage]

𓃗

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꥟ Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ꥟ It had been years since you ran away from Joel Miller, a hunter, frightened for your life and of who he had become. Before the infected roamed he was the grumpy single father of a chirpy little girl who lived across the street from you and kept himself to himself… until he didn’t, not with you at least when you began watching over Sarah while he couldn’t. He became someone who you could talk to, a friend dare you say, a silly little crush and your lifeline at the beginning of the apocalypse.

Now you are residing in Jackson, a slice of heaven in a cruel world, the perfect distraction from your past and the hell you went through to get away from it. However, you realize that the past really does always come back to haunt you when all too familiar faces arrive at Jackson and you have no other choice but to face Joel again, who makes it his mission to fix your broken friendship.

Unable to fight your heart, feelings resurface and lines blur when it becomes clear that you are just as much Joel’s lifeline as he is yours.

𝑨 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ꥟ Horror themes, not strictly following the first game/season + not at all following the second season/game so kinda au, reader can sing and play guitar, weapons, bad language, death, grief, parental neglect, angst, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, blood, violence, nightmares, PTSD, a lil smidge of dark!Joel, Jackson!Joel, soft & protective with a bit of a dad bod!Joel, unrequited love until it isn’t, jealousy, mutual pining, age gap (reader is 36 and Joel is 56) and smUUUUT (‼️) so you must be 18+ to read❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ꥟ 10.5K (wtaf🫢)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ꥟ Horror themes, mention of death, grief, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, mention of blood and vomit, PTSD, nightmares, bad language and weapons.

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ ⌚️ ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⌚️

NOW

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

His voice haunts your mind day and night. It had lingered, wormed its way into the depths of your brain and buried itself into the trench-like indents of it like the parasitic fungi that had wreaked havoc on the world twenty years ago. It's crazy really, how you could not decide what was worse, the infected or Joel Miller...

On days like today, you almost wish that you had been mauled by one of those rotting monsters instead of ever having been under that intense and unwavering brown stare of his. A bite from a runner and Joel's existence, they're not all that different to you. If you'd have been bitten, at least you knew that it'd be over within a few days, that the pain inflicted upon you would only be temporary... that deep and harsh Texan drawl, it had you in that stage between being bitten and losing your mind, except it was never ending, a permanent, inescapable limbo.

You'd lost hope in ever forgetting, it's been sixteen years since you last heard his voice in the flesh so how could you even fathom an escape from it at this point?

All you could do was throw yourself shoulders deep into distractions, hay and horse manure being two of them.

Every day you arrived at Jackson Ranch bright and early to tend to the horses. Your role there as a stable-hand is ideal and smooth-running, usually, and it comes with a bonus of company in the form of large-scale dogs, your preferred company, though you would never tell Maria that.

Justified, Ajax, Callus, Silver Dollar, Maggie, Old Beardy, Guinevere, Old Belle, Branwen, Murphy, Old Boy, Bandit, Pearl and Shimmer. All a mix of stallions and mares, friends you never knew you needed until you took on this job that you had very little experience in before the end of the world as you knew it.

Going beyond Jackson's sturdy walls was a no go so patrolling was out of the question.

Some roles going required previous experience, either in medicine or biology so you couldn't be a doctor.

Being a teacher or hunter crossed your mind for a split second before making you sick to your stomach.

Taking on the role of a cook, barmaid or trader meant that you had to constantly face people, be sociable and smile even when you didn't want to, and you were in no state to do or be any of it seven years ago, when Maria found a desolate Jackson and sought to build a settlement out of it.

That left only three jobs for you to pick from: keeping Jackson maintained, the greenhouses thriving or the horses healthy, groomed and content. Initially, you chose to be a gardener... you lasted six months. It had brought back some meaning into your life, knowing that you were doing good for the community from a distance that you could tolerate, that it'd brighten the food palette of all of Jackson's residents and that the kids of Jackson would grow up healthy and well fed. The catch for you was the quietness of the role, the silence was deafening and allowed too much space in your mind for it to drown into the depths of what you'd lost to get here.

You felt even more useless than you did before you met Maria, who did everything she could to help you fit into a community that you didn't believe in anymore. With a stern knock on your door one morning, she practically dragged you by the arm to Jackson Ranch and coerced you into the hands of Rick, the man in charge of the ranch, in order for him to train you into the hard-working stable-hand that you are today.

Maria had, had it less than easy, leading a group of people who looked to her and her late father for guidance in a cause that didn't seem attainable when people were constantly dying around them.

Like you, she had to make life-altering decisions for the good of herself and others she'd met along the way.

Tagging along with her was not a choice that you made, neither was living or dying, Maria made both choices for you. It had been a walk in the park, the years you spent with her group searching for a decent place to start a new life, at least when you compared it to the hell that you went through to find her group in the first place.

Leaving your first and only group before joining Maria's was a gut-wrenching decision, the toughest one you've ever had to make. You knew that there would be risks, danger and fatal consequences if anything went wrong... you knew it - god, you knew it, yet you still went along with it anyway and you sure did suffer the worst of consequences on your journey from Boston to Colorado.

You hadn't been alone on your month and a half long journey, two others were with you, Charlie, a runaway hunter and an unlikely friend that you'd gained on your way to the Boston QZ from Austin. The other, well, you tried not to think about him too much.

Unlike Maria, you'd failed because neither made it to her camp alive.

You made it... empty and alone, which was the biggest consequence of all.

Though you were entirely unaware that you had. You didn't remember collapsing in the snow with a stillborn baby in your arms, being found by a handful of Maria's group just a few miles from the very people you'd tried so hard to find, and taken back to her camp on horseback.

Sixteen years had passed and still all you could remember was waking up, the bright whiteness of a medical light making your eyes strain, an unusual and rapid beeping noise and slurred voices that you didn't recognise all around you. Once your consciousness came over you, your eyes blinking constantly to try and adjust to the unusual light, you remember panicking, noticing the lack of blood and dirt on your skin before kicking your legs out from under a heavy white duvet and desperately straining out cries to see your baby and Charlie.

Your breath hitches, getting trapped in your throat before you gulp, swallowing the air down quickly as you subtly shake your head and mumble a 'nope' under your breath, choosing to steer your focus onto the task at hand.

You usually spend the first hour of your morning in the stable and today has been no different. You fill the wire racks hanging off of the edge of each stall with fresh hay, starting from the closest to the entrance and working your way down. Then you groom and dress the horses required for each patrol shift that had been listed next to the names on the patrol board on your way into the stable this morning.

During the winter months more horses are needed for each patrol shift due to the increased likelihood of running into a horde at this time.

Not even a blizzard could stop them from pushing through routes towards Jackson - you'd seen it for yourself, how they ran as if the strength of violent gusts of air was no match against them... and not only that, they were typically more angry from being so ravenous at the lack of animals and humans around so you weren't surprised that Maria had made sure numbers of patrollers had doubled with the thaw that came yesterday evening, the infected would travel easy and fast while the weather was this clear, desperate to find their next victim.

You were still surprised to see that Maria's name had been messily jotted down alongside Maggie's.

Maggie had always been Maria's girl, she would accept no one but Jackson's chosen leader so you knew that it couldn't have been a mistake, and even if it was you'd learnt to accept the fact that there is no fighting Rick because he is 'always right'. Recalling one of your first pointers during training, you do as what is written and dress the mare anyway before dedicating an equal amount of time with each horse as if they are children fussing for your attention.

You're stroking Maggie's pink muzzle, your fingers gently tracing just below her nostrils when you hear your name being called behind you. You flinch, making your fingertips brush over her whiskers and causing her to snort.

"Is Maggie ready for me?" Maria asks, strolling into the stable with purpose, wearing clothes suitable for beyond Jackson's walls, a padded forest green winter jacket over a faded brown shirt paired with jeans and snow boots.

You turn on your heel, your palm cupping just above Maggie's nose, "she's ready for you," you respond with a nod, pursing your lips together after as if to stop yourself from vocalising your worry. You watch her cautiously as she walks towards Maggie, naturally stepping out of the way so that she can lead the horse out of the stall. Your lips pop open unconsciously, a hum leaving them before you cut it short - you can't just let her go, "but—"

She cuts you off with a deadpan look, Maggie does the same, side-eyeing you as if to say 'don't question my human'.

You shut your mouth for a brief moment as Maria and Maggie resume their movements towards the opened stable doors that go directly to Jackson's main gate. "Maria—"

"I'm fine," she calls without turning her head to look at you, still walking and leading Maggie.

"Hey," you start jogging, catching up with her while being careful not to spook Maggie, "hang on a second - are you sure?" You reach out to touch Maria's arm in order to grab her attention, your fingertips brush against her jacket, "I'm sure they can spare yo—"

"No, I've got it," she states casually, ignoring your touch.

"Or - or someone can fill in for you, there's gotta be someone else? What about - T-ommy?" Your eyes light up at the idea but your voice still trembles slightly when his name leaves your lips, though you try your best to hide it by lowering it.

"Tommy is doin' construction work today, you'd know that if you showed up to dinner last night," Maria sighs, finally halting her steps and giving you an expectant glance over her left shoulder.

Oh.

Your head tilts and your brows furrow in genuine confusion that Maria doesn't seem to buy, but you truly didn't remember her inviting you over.

When she notices your confusion she raises her brows at you, now turning her entire body to face yours, "I visited you at the end of your shift here yesterday? You really don't remember me asking you to come over?"

Oh.

She did.

Your eyes widen in realisation and your grip on Maria's upper arm tightens for a moment, "shit - I'm so sorry, Maria."

"You said you'd be right over."

You did.

Unable to think of an excuse quickly enough that you already know she won't believe and will make her late for patrol when she'd already made the effort of being here early to pick up Maggie, it'll only aggravate her more to lie to her face… and you hated to let Maria down of all people, she took a chance on you, believing in your survival more than anyone else did when you were weak and unable to move from the bed that her people had tucked you into after finding you unconscious in the snow.

"I'm sorry - I forgot," you tell her, sheepishly avoiding eye contact and deciding to focus on the straws of hay stuck to the bottom of your own snow boots.

Maria hums, scrutinising you with her deep brown eyes, "You forgot," she repeats before placing her spare hand on her hip, "like when you forgot to decorate the Christmas tree with us? When you forgot open mic night? Or the countless times you forgot drinks at the Tipsy Bison?"

"Yes," you answer quickly, your hand dropping down to your side as your palms start to sweat at her questioning, "exactly like all those other times I - forgot." Very convincing. "I'm sorry - again."

She shakes her head and blinks slowly, doing very little to hide her annoyance towards you, "stop apologizing."

"Sorry," you mumble without thinking.

"Don't. Just - show up next time, okay?" Maria asks you with a raised brow. "Tommy doesn't bite."

"You sure about that?" You try to joke but you end up sounding unsure instead.

You failed to amuse Maria as it hadn't been the first time you'd tried to mask your uneasiness with humor whenever Tommy was mentioned. "I've given him enough trouble from the first day he stepped foot in Jackson and he's done nothing but prove himself time and again. He's a good worker - a good man... and he's really tryin' to get on your good side so will you please try cutting him some slack?"

"I'm - workin' on it," you sigh out, nodding with a lack of purpose that, again, Maria notices.

She exhales your name slowly, quietly, but loud enough for you to hear, "He is not his brother." Maria never mentions his name because she knows how just the sound of it sends you into a period of sleepless nights and locking yourself into your house after a horrific array of nightmares... it'd happened before, the worst time being when Tommy first arrived at Jackson.

You thought that you could do it, that you could ignore his existence just like you had Joel's.

Whenever you saw him turn a corner you'd run the other way.

Whenever you saw him on the street you'd turn back.

Whenever you saw him in the Tipsy Bison you'd trade week's worth of your rations for a bottle of red and go home.

It wasn't until his unexpected visit to the stable for his first patrol three and a half months ago that he finally saw you for the first time since leaving you, Joel, Tess and Charlie behind to join the Fireflies.

As you suspected, he was surprised to see you, perhaps because he'd thought that you would never make it in a world like this, because you were unwilling to kill innocent people, young and at a disadvantage being pregnant, or because he'd forgotten about you entirely. Either way, you didn't stick around long enough to find out, feigning a sudden sickness and begging Rick to let you go home before sprinting out of the stable like your life depended on it... that was what caused your worst episode.

Hearing his voice utter your name, he sounded so much like Joel and it terrified you.

It played on a loop inside your head like a scratched record and when you tried to settle into your bed it only got louder, so you grabbed your pillow, pressing it against the ear exposed to the cool air of your room as hard as you could while scrunching your eyes shut.

Eventually you fell asleep, but Tommy's voice followed you into your rest.

You saw Joel and you saw blood, it was all over him and he wielded a revolver in his hand. A droplet of sweat trailed along the end of an eyebrow, disappearing when it reached the crow's foot beside his eye. His eyes pierced into your soul, dark and concentrated, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly and small whimpers to leave your lips in between heavy breaths.

There were dead bodies everywhere. The blood of his innocent victims puddled at your bare feet, staining your skin crimson red.

You screamed and ran, but Joel's voice continued to utter your name and the blood - the blood... it rose quickly, making it difficult for your legs to move as fast. Determined to get away, you waded through the thick liquid as it consumed your bottom half. Your hands were encased in blood too, the warmness of it on your skin grasped your attention and stopped you in your tracks... you couldn't move, you couldn't yell, you couldn't get away - you failed - again.

You silently cried into your hands, not caring about smearing the blood all over your face because you knew that there was no escaping it, that before too long your entire body would be swimming in it.

Elevating with the rapidity of quick sand, you remember the blood reaching your neck and throwing your arms outward, wailing and kicking your feet desperately... Joel's voice sounded angrier than it usually did, like he was disappointed in your fighting, in prolonging the inevitable.

There was a pull beneath you, sucking your feet downward, and just when you thought that you'd beaten the nightmare, something, you didn't know what it was as your eyes were scrunched shut, dragged you down with inhumane force.

You didn't get to take one last breath before the blood pooled over your face, you opened your eyes but all you could see was red. You could still hear his voice, but it was muffled, and as you got pulled further down it got more distant until it faded into nothingness - finally.

A sense of calmness spread throughout your entire body, all you could hear was the rush of liquid past your ears as you got pulled down.

It calmed you even though you were far from safe and unable to breathe... that was until an intense pressure started at your toes, then to your feet, your ankles, knees, thighs, hips, stomach, hands, arms, chest, shoulders, neck and head. The pressure became unbearable, your bones felt as though they could snap at any moment and your throat choked when it got so desperate to breathe that it let the blood into your system.

The next thing you knew, your eyes had flown open. You were back in bed, your entire body so clammy with sweat that it had dampened your sheets and duvet.

You refused to sleep for weeks on end. You'd think that after a couple days your body would succumb to sleep without your brain's permission due to being so exhausted, but you were just that terrified that it'd happen to you again... that you'd hear Joel's voice again. To stop any possibility of that happening you locked your front door from the inside, your logic being if you stayed put then there would be no chance of bumping into Tommy again... boy were you wrong.

So wrong.

Maria watches the way that your lips tremble, waiting for you to answer her. Her features are much softer now as she realises that she had been so close to stepping over another line just by alluding to Tommy's older brother.

She says your name under her breath again, but you cut her off, shaking your head, "It's okay," you whisper, your voice small, and you try your best to muster up a smile to reassure your closest friend in Jackson, "I - I know... Tommy isn't him, so I'll try, for you - and for the - baby," your voice lowers when you mention Maria's baby.

It is new news that only Maria, Tommy, Maggie and you know about.

"Thank you," she hums, her lips tilting upward at one side and a glimmer in her eyes.

A glimmer that you recognised all too well, a familiar yet distant memory of how you felt that brings back the worry that you expressed just a few minutes ago at the thought of Maria going beyond the safe barrier of Jackson while pregnant. It’s only natural for you to be concerned about her, even if it is Tommy's baby, you see the love that she already has for it which you came to understand during your own experience, only for it to be ripped away... you wouldn't wish what happened to you upon your worst enemy, let alone Maria.

"Eight O'clock!" As if on cue, Rick calls into the stable from outside, giving both you and Maria a charming smile, sounding way too chirpy for the morning before disappearing behind the stable's front doors.

Your eyes widen and your mouth forms an 'o' shape for a moment when you remember that you still hadn't dissuaded Maria from going on patrol.

"I'll be fine, I promise," she reassures you, sensing your worry. "It's only a few hours," she adds nonchalantly.

"A lot can happen in a few hours," you retort quickly, sternly, holding firm eye contact with her, which is unusual for you - Maria knows that, understanding the truth in your words because you knew yourself how quickly things could turn out there.

"I know." Maria looks over your shoulder and gestures behind you with a nod. You can hear footsteps and the trotting of hooves behind you of the patrollers that'd be joining Maria, leading the dressed horses to Rick, who would mark them off on the register by the schedule board. "I'm in good hands," she tells you as they come into view, walking past you with smiles on their faces directed at both you and Maria, though you couldn't help but notice how their smiles widened at the sight of your friend.

You aren't surprised - everyone loves Maria.

She has done so much for everybody here, while you, you kept to yourself, the horses and an occasional sing song at the Tipsy Bison - otherwise, you are unreachable, not that you preferred it to be any other way.

"Mornin', Maria," Arthur nods, holding Murphy's reigns while giving the stallion's white coat a pat and you a small smile.

Two less familiar faces walk past holding Old Boy, Silver Dollar, Guinevere and Callus, they must be Silas and Claire, two names you didn't recognise on the list of patrol shifts.

Nathan is a regular on patrol, one of the most experienced alongside Arthur, so it is no surprise that Rick had assigned the two newbies a spot with them and Maria.

Bandit follows Nathan, his head bopping forward playfully, a cheekiness that he seemed to adopt from the man leading him. "Ladies," Nathan tips his hat with a smirk, oozing arrogance.

Jean follows close behind Nathan holding Ajax at her side with a fond smile on her face. She loves that horse just as much as you love him. He's a big brute, Ajax, intimidating at first glance, but he's just a softie under the muscle.

Jean's blonde hair catches your eye, it sways as she walks as she's put it up in a ponytail. She grins widely at you, displaying her dimples and squeals your name, "where've you been?!"

"Uh - here?" You answer unsurely.

Jean laughs, stopping to stand in between you and Maria, nudging your shoulder with her own, "duh, I mean at the tipsy - everyone misses ya!"

"Be serious, Jean," you mutter, ignoring Maria's stare as if you hadn't just been speaking about your obvious avoidance of any invitation if there was any possibility that Tommy would be there... which was always high because he’d followed Maria around like a lost puppy from the very first day he arrived here.

"I am - even Seth misses you and he's the biggest party pooper in Jackson," she exclaims with another light-hearted laugh.

You shake your head in amused disbelief.

"It's true, so you've gotta come back and sing a couple songs for us, please?" She grabs your arm, making you flinch, but you already know it's Jean and she wouldn't hurt a fly... unless it was infected. "I'll rip my eyes out if I have to sit through another night of Dave's jokes about drugs, dildos and chameleons."

So that's what you've been missing out on all this time that you've been avoiding open mic nights at the Tipsy Bison.

A small laugh escapes your mouth, "I'll think about it."

"Really?!" Jean's hazel-brown eyes light up.

You nod.

Jean inhales excitedly, clearly already assuming that your vague answer is a confirmation that you would in fact be performing at the next open mic. "Your version of that Linda Rondstadt song - ugh, what’s it called again?" She asks, looking both between you and Maria.

"Err - Long Long Time?" You sound unsure, but it's the only Linda Ronstadt song that you've sung at the Tipsy Bison so it's the only possible answer... you blame your forgetfulness on the nerves of singing in front of other people, each time you did it felt like a blur and when it was over you didn't remember a goddamn thing.

Jean nods enthusiastically, practically bouncing on her feet at this point, "yes, that's it! It's to die for - you have to sing it again!"

You forgot the warmth that would spread throughout your chest when random people of Jackson would approach you after you sang, complimenting the one gift you still had from long before the apocalypse... you never remembered what they said, but the buzz it'd give you was enough for you to brave any fright you faced before the next open mic. It's a good feeling - another thing you had Maria to thank for because you would never have even thought of stepping in front of an audience to sing had she not nudged you to do it two years ago.

"Please!" Jean begs again.

Whether it's the warmness of your insides, or the pressure of having two sets of eyes on you, or how guilty you'll feel if you say no, you cave, "okay okay, I'll do it."

Jean celebrates by fisting the air with a toothy grin, "yes! Thank you - you've made my Christmas, seriously!"

You open your mouth to respond, about to say something like 'it's nothing really' while internally panicking, asking yourself what you'd gotten yourself into without even really processing it in your head.

"Eight O'clock!" Rick's voice calls out again, sounding more stern this time, "last call!"

His piercingly blue eyes linger on the three of you huddled together while the patrollers that had walked past you stood waiting to leave behind him.

They bore into you, Rick's baby blues, silently urging you to wrap up your conversation with Maria and Jean. If they hadn't looked so agitated with you you'd probably swoon... instead they give you the urge to flip him off, to question him on his timing because if he'd have just called Maria and Jean over to him ten seconds earlier then you would've evaded Jean's request for you to sing again.

You don't.

You never would.

For a man who didn't tolerate bullshit, he'd tolerated a lot from you and you'd never take that for granted.

On the plus side, Jean hadn't had time to ask why you stopped going to the open mics in the first place, how your best friend's husband was the reason, how whenever you saw Tommy in the Tipsy Bison you felt like you needed to vomit then and there, then leave...

You nod at Rick, taking a step away from Maria. Jean had already left the two of you alone, jumping upright at the sound of Rick's voice and obediently scurrying towards him with Ajax eagerly treading along behind her. "Well, don't let me hold you up any longer," you mutter loud enough for Maria to hear, nervously dragging your eyes away from Rick's.

Maria shakes her head, the lines between her eyebrows prominent, "you didn't." Maggie snorts over Maria's shoulder, immediately diverting her owner's attention to her, "Maggie doesn't seem to agree though, do you girl?" Maria asks in an amused, but loving tone of voice, bringing her hand up to pat Maggie's neck.

"Oh please, that horse kisses your ass even when you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong," Maria states, to which Maggie neighs in agreement.

"Exactly, she just proved my point," you gesture towards Maggie with an uncontrollable laugh.

Maria hums, watching you closely with an entranced smile on her face. "I missed this," she admits.

"Missed what?"

"Just laughing - talking with you without feeling like you're gonna run away any second."

A hint of a smile spreads across your lips, shy and nervous as always, but you had to admit that you'd missed this too, you'd missed your best friend... it'd been so awkward since Tommy started to linger behind her like a shadow, like you could never spend time with her because he was always with her. Now that they are married with a baby on the way - you just had to accept that Tommy and Maria came as a package, that where Maria would be, Tommy would probably be... you suppose you should be glad of that, that he wants to be there for her, be a good husband and father.

You never pegged Tommy to be the type to commit to anything or anyone. The man you knew before would run whenever things got hard, that was crystal clear to you. This Tommy, he was different, from what you'd heard from whispers about him, and you can tell how happy he makes Maria even though she doesn't talk about him to you that much on the rare occasion that you do catch her alone.

Maybe you could give him a chance, give him the benefit of the doubt.

To pick up where you left off with your friendship with Maria you tell yourself that you won't 'forget' another invitation again, that's a good place to start, you think.

For Maria.

For you too.

"Me too."

Maria chuckles while you fiddle with your fingers. "I'll see you later then?" She raises her brow at you.

"Later?" Your head tilts in confusion, not remembering another invitation being offered to you during this conversation.

"Mhm, at the Tipsy Bison—"

Your eyes widen so much that they could fall out of their sockets and suddenly your palms are dripping with sweat again, "please tell me there's not an open mic tonight I haven't practiced I haven't even sung in like four months I can't do it I can't I'm callin' off this whole thing why did I even agree to it in—" you ramble without taking a single breath.

"Relax, open mic isn't until next weekend," she informs you, trying not to sound entertained by your moment of panic.

You let out a long, drawn out breath of relief, "well thank fuck for that because I'm not ready."

"You realize you don't have to do it if you really don't want to right?"

"I know, but I couldn't do that to Jean. You saw her face, she'll be heartbroken if I don't," you try to play it cool, smiling as if you hadn't gotten yourself into a state over it a few seconds ago.

"No kidding."

"So if it's not an open mic, what is happening tonight - at the Tipsy? Just drinks? Dinner?" You ask, innocently curious... you'd gotten so used to the repetitive cycle of going to work and going straight home every day for so long that you had no idea what to expect from a night out with Maria at the Tispy Bison anymore.

"The Goodbye Girl," she answers plain and simple.

"What's that?"

She shrugs, "an old romantic comedy I think. I wanted to do something for the kids and it's the most family friendly movie we've got right now so... you'll be there?"

"Is—"

"Yes, Tommy's coming," she interrupts with the answer you're expecting, just as she expected you to ask because it was what you always asked whenever she invited you over or out... her answer being the decision-maker of whether you'd be there or not most of the time.

Maria watches you, so sure that you're going to cower and say 'no' immediately, but you don't, you think and she lets you, ignoring the stares of the other patrollers boring into her back.

Maybe there is nothing to be afraid of, if Joel were to show up then surely he would've got here by now?

Surely Tommy is too far away for Joel to track him down.

There can't be any leads linking Tommy to Jackson that Joel would ever find out about, right?

With what you went through to be here, how could you let a close to impossible possibility dictate the way you live at Jackson, make you hide away and ruin your closest friendship here.

Maria's lips fly open, ready to console you if you truly decide that tonight is too soon, "if—"

"I'll be there," you blurt before your brain talks you out of it.

"Oh - okay," Maria blurts back, so taken aback by your confidence that she actually takes a small step back, narrowly missing Maggie's hoof, "okay - good. Guess I'll see you there then," she says almost to herself, her relief as clear as day, as she turns on her heel.

"See you there," you nod, giving her one last reassuring look before Maggie catches your eye.

The mare stares at you with her beady brown eyes, silently telling you that you'd taken up enough of Maria's time and that it was now her turn.

She leads Maria away from you, taking her to the rest of the patrollers.

You're left feeling hopeful about tonight, that this'll be a good change for both you and Maria after months of avoiding every possible interaction with her husband... you don't want to let her down anymore, and for your own sake you don't want to turn into the resident hermit of Jackson... people here already think you're a little odd as it is.

You watch on as Rick takes a register of the patrollers and their horses. Each of them had already mounted their designated horses and Nathan and Arthur are holding the spare horses that'd be carrying any extra cargo they find out there.

The horses that remain watch on longingly as the horses picked for this patrol shift are ridden out of the stable.

Old Beardy lets out a low pitched snort, expressing his frustration which diverts your attention from the patrol group to him.

He is sticking his head out of his stall and as soon as he sees that he has grabbed your attention he bobs his neck, making you giggle.

Old Beardy is a shy boy, grumpy at times. At first he didn't like you, he refused to be petted by you and even turned his back on you whenever you visited his stall, side-eying you at any opportunity he could. You had been cautious of him at first, doing your upmost to avoid him because you were genuinely afraid that he might bite or kick you if you got too close.

He sensed your fear, you knew it, Rick knew it.

Rick assisted you in tending to Old Beardy for your first few weeks as a stable-hand. You'd groom the stallion's chocolate coat while Rick patted his dark mane, you'd fill his feeder with new hay and trough with fresh water while Rick distracted him, you'd clean his stall while Rick took him out on the exercise grounds at the other end of the stable.

In those moments you noticed a softness to Old Beardy's character that made you less frightened of him.

Rick's own words played in your head on repeat after another day's work, another day of Old Beardy entirely ignoring you: 'Old Beardy doesn't just trust words, he trusts actions more than anything. Keep showin' up and doin' what you're doin' for him and eventually he'll come around, I'm sure of it.'

'Was he the same with you?'

'You bet - he was worse with me.'

'Worse?'

'Yup, he nipped me right here - just above my nose - was lucky he didn't catch my damn eye.'

'I don't believe it.'

'Why'd you say that? Got the scar to prove it and everythin'.’

'It's just - you're so good with 'em - all of 'em.'

'That, darlin', is what you call experience. I've had my fair share of tendin' to tortured souls like Old Beardy, often all it took was showin' 'em that they need takin' care of. If they've been alone a long time they start thinkin' they don't need anybody cause 's been a while since they've been given any love, so you've gotta get 'em off their high horse a bit 'nd show em' they need you.'

You were determined to gain Old Beardy's trust after what Rick had said about him because it reminded you of yourself... so you continued to go about your chores for Old Beardy while he watched on with an unimpressed look on his face.

Slowly but surely there were changes as each week passed.

Rick no longer needed to aid you with Old Beardy's upkeep.

Old Beardy no longer turned his back on you when you stood at the gate of his stall.

He side-eyed you a little longer than he used to.

While you filled his trough with new water he'd stand beside you.

He would take singular straws of hay out of your hands in order to avoid touching you... then two, then three and soon he took handfuls of it, not minding his rubbery lips brushing your fingers.

You remember walking back home with a skip in your step the day that Old Beardy finally let you pet him. It was about a month into your personal quest to earn his trust and it took a little coaxing from Rick on both yours and the stallion's part to encourage the barrier of wariness between you to be broken down.

About ten seconds after you'd slowly reached your hand out towards Old Beardy's muzzle, he leant forward to rest his soft nose against your outstretched palm... His nostrils flared and he hesitated a few times but he did it, and suddenly what felt like a lost cause from the beginning was worth all the time he spent rejecting you now that you'd got him.

You'd received an intense dose of self-accomplishment which made you feel like you were really made for this job... you wondered why you ever even doubted yourself about taking it on in the first place, and you certainly couldn't give up on it after that... you always returned to it, even after all the nightmares and days stuck in your house, you had to after Old Beardy had put so much trust in you.

You'd shown him love and he needed you, and perhaps you needed him too.

You'd argue now that Old Beardy loves you more than he does Rick.

"There's my sweet boy," you greet him with a toothy smile, approaching his stall. He continues to bob his head even when you're stood directly in front of him so you bring your hand up to try and soothe him. A few gentle snorts later and he stops moving his head so that you have easy access to his nose to give him a good scratch under his chin - his favorite. You giggle at his obvious appreciation for your touch, your fingers tickle the small beard below his bottom lip, causing his eyes to shut and occasionally flutter his dark lashes, "don't you worry, somebody'll snatch you up one of these days - I mean look at you, how could they not hm?"

Old Beardy lets out an impatient sigh that blows air onto your forearm.

All of the patrollers without designated horses never picked Old Beardy for a shift, likely for the reasons that you had once been afraid of, so he spent all of his days with you and Rick, unable to form a connection with anybody else... it makes you sad sometimes, that no one ever goes near his stall or gives him the time of day, knowing the sweetheart that he is under the grumpy outer shell.

"How about I take 'im out on the grounds—" Rick's voice pipes up behind you, almost making you jump out of your skin. He stands next to you, reaching up to stroke Old Beardy's forehead, "while you go check on Pearl 'nd little Shimmer?"

Your face instantly lights up, a hitched breath leaving your lips as you nod at Rick, who is already looking at you with a proud smile on his face and a stray piece of his brushed back brown hair falling over one of his eyes.

"Alright then. We'll walk - together."

He's in a good mood today. You were convinced that he'd approached you to scold you for holding up the patrollers.

You give Old Beardy's chin one last scratch before retracting your hand, your arm brushing Rick's firm one in the process, "sorry, Rick - I mean - about holding Maria and Jean up."

"'S okay," he chuckles, watching you as you turn your back on him, starting to walk towards the fenced exercise grounds for the horses, "just don't do it again!"

You huff a laugh, a faint blush spreading across your cheeks at hearing the amusement in his voice.

Rick jogs behind after expertly attaching Old Beardy's harness and lead, the horse trots alongside him eagerly and he makes sure that he doesn't get too close to you in order to not scare you... knowing how you didn't like being approached from behind, he'd learnt that the hard way with the amount of times your survival instincts took over, throwing punches at him.

Like you said, he'd put up with a lot of bullshit from you since Maria dumped you into his hands.

The sound of snow crunching under your snow boots can be heard as you and Rick step outside... you can't deny that it's one of your favorite sounds so you're in no haste to interrupt the silence between you and the man walking next to you.

You take quick, subtle glances at Rick, noticing the way that his light stubble catches at the beige collar of his brown jacket, his hips swaying coolly with each step he takes, his curls at the back of his neck bouncing at the same time.

You aren't blind to Rick's looks. You'd be an idiot not to notice them... you'd also be an idiot not to notice the way that people spoke about him, about the two of you.

Rick is considered to be the most eligible bachelor in Jackson, he's a hard worker, a leader with rugged charm, affectionate with animals, a good communicator, good with people and he's single... he's also just a few years older than you... thirty-eight, you think, so it's no wonder why people spoke about the possibility of something happening between you.

All the people you once loved had either died or didn't love you back in the way you wanted them to, the pain being so intense that you'd not even considered it to possibly happen again, with Rick, not until now... but you're sure that he doesn't see you as anything other than his stable-hand anyway.

You take another glance at Rick, but are unable to admire anything else about him because he catches you red-handed, already staring at you with eyes the colour of ice under the sunlight.

His thin pink lips tug upward at one side, "so - er - you're goin' to the Tipsy tonight then?"

"Hm?" His question makes you look up at him again after quickly turning your attention to the snow when he saw you looking at him.

Rick's little side smirk doesn't falter, "I overheard - you and Maria I mean."

"Oh - yeah," you murmur, bringing your hand up to your neck and scratching, fighting the urge to hiss as your cold fingertips touch your skin. You blink, watching him as his sloped nose and chiselled cheekbones flush, you assume that it's because of the cold, but part of you wonders if it's because he feels embarrassed at his admission, "will you - be there - for the movie?"

"Yeah—" he shoves the reddening fingers of his spare hand into his jean's front pocket and looks ahead at the sheep's pasture which is snowed over, his ranch workers clearing it so that the sheep could continue grazing, "not so much for the movie though."

"Oh." Scratching your neck is not enough to soothe your nerves, instead you clasp your hands together, fiddling with your fingers... it doesn't quite do the trick but there's not much you can do about it when you feel so exposed to the cold air and his piercing gaze. "You meetin' Arthur and Nathan then?"

"No - actually I was er - wonderin' if you wanted to go with me?" He states as if it's not a question or out of the blue.

Like a date?

Sure, people talked, but you were convinced that he hadn't noticed.

Is that why he's asking? You wonder.

He can't be asking for any other reason, right?

Is it out of pity?

Had he forgotten all the times you punched him? Given him a black eye? Kicked him? Lashed out because you could've sworn you heard Joel's voice? Hid away in your house for weeks without telling him and come back to the stable as if nothing happened?

It's gotta be pity.

"As in—"

"As in we'll walk to the Tipsy Bison after work, find Maria and Tommy 'n sit down with 'em - then I'll get you a drink and we'll watch whatever fuckin' movie it is playin'," he states, looking you directly in the eye even when he's waiting on your response.

Maybe he's asking because of Tommy.

He knew how you avoided him like he was infectious, he'd seen it with his own eyes whenever Tommy entered the stable to take Justified on patrol with him, you'd hide in Old Beardy's stall, leaving him to deal with the youngest Miller brother... it's why Rick doesn't like Tommy very much, he thinks he must've done something very bad for you to react the way you do around him.

Although Rick had consoled you a countless amount of times as you sobbed over your past, he still only knows parts about it because he joined Maria's group after you did, but before Jackson was found... he knew about your baby, that was it, and assumed by the surname 'Miller' on his little gravestone that Tommy was the father.

Why else would you hate him so much?

Since starting work at his ranch he'd been protective over you as his worker, wanting you to be as good a stable-hand you could possibly be and that meant no assholes like Tommy Miller interfering with your duties to the horses.

Maybe he's asking as your boss?

Or he just wants to spend the night glaring at Tommy over a table.

Maybe he's just wanting to look out for you.

Even if it is just pity or for a reason like pissing Tommy off, there isn't a reason that outweighs your reason to say yes... you just don't want to see Joel's face in the back of your mind like a constant nagging thought anymore because goddamn you for having such a brilliant photographic memory... maybe if you spent a little more time with Rick, the face of the man you'd been hung up on for decades would be replaced, maybe the nightmares would stop and maybe you could look at Tommy without associating him with his brother.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage, "believe it or not I um - I was actually plannin' on not smelling like horse shit tonight—" you send an apologetic look Old Beardy's way, who is not at all paying any attention to yours and Rick's conversation and is more entranced by the repetitive 'baaa' noises coming from the odd-looking fluffy creatures in the next pasture, "so I might have to pass on walkin' straight there with you."

Rick looks down at his own outfit, parts of it ripped and most of it worn or stained with odd pieces of hay protruding out of the seams of his clothes, just like yours... not that it bothers either of you, you're used to it by now. "Right - yeah, you make a good point," he responds between chuckles.

You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his lean and muscular frame less subtly than you had before, just because he was distracted by the filthiness of his own clothes. When he looks at you expectantly again you hesitantly drag your eyes away and hum in agreement, almost choking on your own saliva - pull it together, you tell yourself as if you have any idea of what it's like to be asked out on a proper, adult date that you want to go on. "Sooo—" you start to say, entirely expecting him to interrupt you, which he does, quicker than you thought he would.

"Sooo we'll meet there instead, find Maria and Tommy, sit with 'em - I'll get you a drink and we'll—"

"Watch whatever fuckin' movie it is playin' - I got it," you mimic his words in a failed attempt at his smooth southern accent... like he knew so little about you, you didn't know much about him other than that he likes horses and he was born and bred in Cynthiana, Kentucky.

He playfully rolls his eyes before quizzically raising his eyebrows at you, that half-smirk making an appearance again, "you got it as in you're in?"

You thought it was obvious with how you teased him, but perhaps he'd also noticed the way that you used humor to deflect from your real feelings, so you spell it out to him verbally, ignoring the fact that you've lost all feeling in your tongue... luckily you don't need it to deliver your next two words: "I'm in."

Rick's side smirk transitions into a fully fledged grin that shows off his dimples, which are usually difficult to spot under his dark facial hair, "great."

You nod absentmindedly, suddenly feeling the need to get away before you cancel on him seconds after accepting. "I should - um - go see the girls."

"And I should probably get back to work too before Old Beardy here gives me a good kicking," he gives the distracted stallion a few pats that draw his attention back onto the two humans beside him.

"Not before I punch you first." A shameful attempt at last second flirting, you know, but it seems to do the trick and end the conversation with grins on both your faces.

A circling flutter had invaded your stomach after seeing that killer smile of his and it continued even as you walked away from him... you're just not sure whether the butterflies are because of him or because you're now aware that someone could possibly fathom the idea of wanting you, or both - it's probably both.

You'd not felt like this since him, since... Joel… you sigh and look down, bringing your hand to your stomach and gently caressing it to try and calm the butterflies doing loops around your insides.

Don't get too distracted now.

Pearl and Shimmer need you.

You set your eyes on the maternity barn beside the main stable and you don't look back, not even to ogle at the way Rick's arms flex as he effortlessly climbs into Old Beardy's saddle... you shake your head to clear that thought and speed-walk for the barn, for your girls.

Shimmer.

Pearl.

You couldn't possibly pick favorites, but you knew that when a patrol group had gone out and found the stray, pregnant perlino Tennessee Walker a year ago, she was your girl.

She loved you instantly but she hated Rick - not him specifically, only because he had a dick between his legs and you could understand that. She didn't trust men one bit, that much was obvious when the patrol group told you and Rick that she refused to be led by anyone other than Jean on the way back from their shift, and you could understand that too.

So Pearl was, and still is, your responsibility and yours alone... which terrified you at first because she had life growing inside her and you didn't trust yourself not to mess up somewhere, somehow. Doing what you had already been doing for the other horses was one thing, but having the mare depend on you for assisting with the birth of her filly was another thing entirely...

It was another reason not to sleep at night.

You wondered how you could do it if you'd failed to do it yourself once already.

Rick did everything that he could for you from afar, explaining the ins and outs of looking after a pregnant horse and equine delivery... even going to the extent of writing you a manual for it with diagrams and drawings that he'd rustled up one evening after having to listen to you panic over the entire situation for the hundredth time.

To your relief, Pearl was not that far along in her pregnancy when the patrol found her, only four months - Rick could tell by the way her stomach swelled only just, but not enough for her to be any further along than that.

You spent every minute of the day with the mare, staying even after your work hours had finished just to make sure that you were giving her the nurturing that she needed in order for her filly to grow healthy in her womb.

With each month that passed no complications came her way as you worked to the bone to provide her with everything she needed that you didn't have - a comfy bed, stability, double portions of fresh food, lots of water, warmth and a space where she felt safe, where even the thought of someone or something attacking her was not a possibility.

So when Pearl's water's broke naturally on an orangey-skied evening four months ago a moment of sheer panic had flushed through your body before you sucked in a bucket load of tears and dashed to her side, remembering everything that Rick had taught you because at ridiculous hours every night you reread that darn manual... the man watched over the maternity barn's half-door without Pearl kicking up a fuss, she was in too much pain to notice him, in case you needed any emergency assistance - you didn't.

You did it all yourself.

You'd delivered Shimmer all on your own.

Just you and Pearl.

You'd given her everything that you had in you, shown her and her little one the unconditional love that you'd buried deep within you for the baby you mourned for. In return she'd given you some healing, shown you that you could do it again, but without the despair that came after.

It's no wonder why you've formed such an emotional attachment to each other in so little time.

You sniffle softly, blaming the cold weather for it, but a tear falls from your eye, slowly trailing over your cheekbone and catching the line beside your mouth. You don't bother to wipe it away because you just know that Pearl will understand.

The half-door of the barn is open already, Rick must've very cautiously done that first thing in the morning without Pearl noticing... she had been sleeping a lot during her recovery from giving birth.

As you near the door a smile starts to form on your lips as you prepare for Shimmer's adorable 'good morning' that she greets you with every day without fail.

Her brown muzzle appears, resting on the grey wood as soon as she hears you coming.

"Is that you, Shimmer?!" You gasp, now standing directly on the other side of the wooden door.

You hear excitable shuffling at the sound of your voice before Shimmer's entire head comes into view, still preciously resting the weight of it on the door.

"Well good morning to you too!" You run your fingers along the white line that trails from her forehead all the way down to her small nostrils, the only aspect of her appearance that she'd gotten from her mom... she must really take after her dad looks-wise, wherever he is.

Shimmer's mane and tail are brown, her eyes dark and her coat brown, and just like her name, it shimmers under the morning sun.

Shimmer neighs and snorts, enthusiastic as usual, lifting her head from the door and jumping onto her two hind legs as you continue to fuss over her, but you hear further inside the barn a neigh from Pearl, telling her baby girl to 'calm down'.

At the sound of Pearl's voice you hold onto the edge of the half door and lean your upper half over it to peek into the barn. Pearl is laying down on her stomach with her head perched up so that she can watch Shimmer closely, her blue eyes move to you when you come into her line of vision, she neighs again, welcoming you into her and her young's space.

You gesture for Shimmer to back up, to which she does, running around in circles, distracted while you open the half-door and slip into the barn, "look at you go little girl!" You exclaim as you lower yourself onto your knees so that your face is just about in line with Shimmer's, she trots towards you, her face warps slightly as she gets closer and closer, making you giggle. You gently wrap your arms around her neck, your fingers digging into her silky hair while she tucks her head over your shoulder and her neck is pressed to the side of your face.

Pearl watches on fondly from the edge of the barn's interior. The bond that she has let you develop with Shimmer is something that you are so grateful for, after all, you had helped her through her pregnancy and she knows that, so she trusts you with her entire being and is content with you being Shimmer's human mother figure.

Shimmer doesn't stay still for long, removing her head from your shoulders and going back to playing with her hay ball.

"There's my not so little girl," you greet Pearl with a toothy smile, slowly lifting yourself back up onto your feet and treading lightly towards the mare.

You sit yourself beside Pearl absentmindedly twirling her blonde mane around your fingers, and admire the way her beige coat glows where sunlight sneaks through the cracks between each wood panel... that's where Shimmer gets her glow from... You both sit and watch like two proud mothers as Shimmer knocks the ball around the barn with her hooves, occasionally taking some hay from the middle of it.

For what feels like ten minutes is actually hours, the time that you spend in the barn with Pearl and Shimmer.

Playing with Shimmer, sitting with Pearl in the hay, dressing them both in their bridles, taking them both out one after the other for exercise on the grounds, giving them both treats and new water.

It's just after midday when you decide that it's about time for Pearl and Shimmer to have lunch.

The hay bales are located under shelter beside the maternity barn, so you figure that it'll take you just a few minutes to deliver some fresh hay to the hungry-looking faces watching you leave the barn.

The wooden shelter is to your right and you can already see the stacked hay bales inside of it through the wide door frame on the far left side of the rectangular structure.

Rick is nowhere to be seen now, but distant voices, hammering and water trickling from hoses at the greenhouses and sheep enclosure can be heard. When you enter the shelter every sound fades into nothing and the sweet, earthly smell of hay fills your nostrils.

You wrap your fingers around the string of the closest hay bale to the entrance, but as soon as you attempt to lift it you notice the way that your breathing has started to speed up until you're panting heavily, sweating and whimpering - no - you shake your head quickly and try to focus on lifting the hay bale to your chest but your legs quiver, almost making you drop it.

It's his voice again, creeping its way into your head like an agonizing migraine, one that presses down harder on your brain with each word spoken until it's completely squished at the hands of Joel.

'No, don't you fuckin' look at her.'

'Look at me.'

'Don't you look nowhere else.'

'I will break every bone in your body.'

'Give us what you got easy, medicine, supplies, anythin' like that and I'll make killin' you a whole lot quicker.'

Your lips tremble and your hands shake as a second, third and fourth tear fall from your eyes, making your vision blurry and you're unable to clear the liquid away. Even after the hay bale falls out of your arms, they're frozen and held out in front of you as if you were still holding it... you can't move.

Not again, not here.

You'd not had an episode like this at work before.

Why is this happening?

He says your name just like he did in your nightmares: low, raspy and angry at you for running away from him all those years ago.

Unlike your nightmares, you notice how the anger in his voice fades instead of getting louder and angrier, and it allows for you to gain control, steady your breaths, blink away your tears and rub your eyes with the front of your hands... bringing you back to the real world and all you can hear are Jackson's day to day noises, kids screaming as they play outside in the snow, animal calls and people just living.

He says your name again and you stop breathing altogether because it is not in your head this time, it's coming from behind you.

Joel Miller's voice is as clear as day.

Like the characters in all those horror movies you used to watch in your bedroom that know they're about to be killed because the monster is behind them and they're unarmed, you turn to face him slowly, trying with every fibre of your being to not break down, fall at your knees and beg him to just put you out of your misery.

Your mouth falls open slightly at the sight of him in the real world, looking so... normal, dressed in thick layers for the winter weather that hug his softer-looking frame, and he’s not at all covered in blood. He looks so out of place to you after seeing him so often in your mind that you can't bring yourself to believe that he is really here, or scream for him to ‘leave you alone’... and you still cannot bring yourself to breathe, which is making your vision cloudy.

"It's you - 's really you," you hear, it's him… his voice in the flesh.

Joel Miller is here, in Jackson.

You blackout.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨 ⇝

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 (𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐨𝐫 ‘𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒

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𝐽𝑜𝑒𝑙 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟

𓃗

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𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢 | Seonghwa x reader

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𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Vampire sex, master/servant, unprotected sex, corruption kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, hematolagnia, body worship, bite kink, orgasm delay/denial, wax game, blood kink, blood drinking, multiple orgasms, squirting, face fucking and more.

𝔫𝔢𝔱: @cultofdionysusnet

𝔄|𝔑: And now I've finally completed it and I couldn't be happier. I guess I'm a little too in love with Seonghwa. But can I resist the temptation to give him all my attention? And the bunnies seem a little obsessed with him too, don't they? This is a gothic fairy tale, full of depravity, filth and lust. Are you ready for a prince's cold kiss?

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the sinister Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where ancient legend says a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits all alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly forming endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities, as if a random card falling on a regal blood-red velvet tablecloth would transport him from this cold, shuttered room to a land of eternal summer and human warmth. As if it would help him to wipe away the age-old sorrow from his unbeating heart, to allow him to feel, at last, the love for which he so desperately longs—the love for someone like him, a creature who embodies life and death at the same time.

His voice is full of distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo under the earth: "You've come to a place from which you can't return; you've come to a place from which you can't return." And he himself is like a dark, cold dungeon, filled with the reverberation of a lonely echo, a system of repetition, a vicious circle.

He is so divinely beautiful that his beauty seems unnatural; his beauty is an abnormality, a perfect flaw, for in no hypnotic feature of his face is there a hint of the touching imperfection so natural to human existence. His beauty is a sign of fatal disease, a sign of blood full of poison; his black tears are a sign of his lack of soul.

A night-born beauty who embodies both the sin and the blessing in his existence. The Prince of immortality, lord of grief, master of endless tears.

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizen of darkness skillfully guide the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened to a point as sharp as a dagger of steel. These nails and teeth—magnificent, glistening dangerously in the darkness like white snow under the moonlight—are visible signs of his inescapable destiny, which he desperately tries to escape by using magic and otherworldly powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies. He is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when humans worshipped blind Gods and believed in the powers of nature. 

As soon as the sun, bleeding with golden ichor, has set, he rises from his voluptuousness bed, which rather more closely resembles a velvety coffin than a lovelorn bed, and goes to the little round table, and, sitting at this table, he plays his leisurely, mirthless game with fate, until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, bestial, scorching his whole being—hunger.

His lips were intoxicating wine—the scarlet madness of pure seduction. His kiss was as tender as a mother's caress, as suffocating as unspoken words, and as shattering as the agony of dying love, but it was only when his alluringly sensual smile faded in the lips of his victims that they would realise that it was not wine—it was blood—and it tasted as bitter as poisonous wild strawberries and ashes. He slowly savoured each cooling drop of blood until the eyes of his lovers became pale and sombre, like lily flowers submerged in water. The glow of the moonlight that pours in through the boarded-up windows of his castle, on their waxy skin, was their burial garb. 

The Prince's realm stretches for miles and miles, encompassing all the haunted labyrinths of misty forests and mysterious abandoned dwellings, inhabited by ghosts and all manner of midnight creatures. In addition to his poisonous beauty, he has inherited the command of an army of fleshless shadows who inhabit the village at the foot of his sinister castle, which rests in a dead garden of mourning roses like a lover in her eternal sleep, waiting for the beautiful prince to one day kiss her icy lips. These macabre shadows sneak into the woods in the guise of bats and black foxes. They crawl into the corners of the ornate rooms of an abandoned house as thick, menacing spiders that entangle everything around them in the silken canopies of their webs. Their presence is manifested in the sound of sobbing in an abandoned bedroom where a cracked mirror hangs on the wall, reflecting nothing, and in the sense of unease that grips those who wander carelessly into these desolate lands. They torment all the beautiful young maidens, pure as angels from paintings, with fits of inexplicable weakness and madness, forcing them to wander about at night like somnambulists—barefoot and naked—until their frail bodies lie in the bloody sheets of their splendid lord.

But the Midnight Prince himself is indifferent to his otherworldly, immense power; instead, he longs to be an ordinary man and to meet his love—predestined and fateful—but he doesn't know if it can happen at all. The Tarot cards are always laid out for him in exactly the same way, always showing him the same painfully familiar pattern: the Magician, Death, the Tower - shattered by violet lightning—mystery, fatality, and destruction. 

In addition to the hundreds of whispering, sexless shadows that waltz through the dusky, gloomy corridors of the hereditary castle, the handsome prince has other living servants. Bleakness somnambulistic the servants in a dumb daze tend the decomposing castle, ensuring that no sunlight enters the dreary, formerly majestic halls and that their immortal master always has fresh, hot blood to satisfy his insatiable, animalistic hunger. They are eager to fulfil his every whim and desire, as vampire minions are supposed to do, and when one of these pale servants dies, turning into an immovable, translucent dried flower, another one takes his place, and the cycle begins all over again. 

They live as long as the prince wants, until he tires of their emotionless, silent presence. He mercifully shares his immortality with them, which moulds with poisonous black blood at the bottom of their exquisite porcelain tea cups. Everything about this otherworldly Prince of the Night justifies his tragic role—lord of sorrow and terror—except the fact that he himself is very reluctant to play this unpleasant role. 

On long, moonless nights, his caring, taciturn caretaker allows him to take a stroll through the garden. This rose garden is a place of extreme darkness and melancholy, lulled into the depths of a thorny maze and a beautiful, centuries-old cemetery where the remains of his cursed family lie beneath nameless marble slabs and faceless angels in empty coffins. 

The roses, once bright and alive, have now grown into a great wall of dead flowers. Behind them, he is trapped in his ancestral castle, like an intricate cage. There is no comfort for him in his ghostly existence, which is a clumsy imitation of real life. And then he returns to the lulling magic of the tarot, slowly shuffling the cards, spreading them out, trying to read them, and then, with a sigh, picking them up and shuffling them again, endlessly guessing at the inevitable fate.

Dressed in his blood-stained lace gown, he lies in his luxurious bed all day, drowning in countless pillows. When the tired, bloody sun disappears behind the vague line of the horizon, taking with it the weight of human life, he rises from his bed to take a bath filled to the brim with rose petals and virgin's blood, which stands in the middle of a room full of mirrors, and then he sits down at his little round table and plays cards until his hunger awakens again. 

It always was, and always will be, until, on one of an endless series of overcast, recurring days, the graceful, waxen fingers of a vampiric prince—as he descended from a sacred icon—turn over a card called 'Lovers'. Never, never before... never before has the prince been a forerunner of love. He shudders and trembles, his huge, hypnotic eyes close with nervously fluttering eyelids pierced by thin, bluish veins. This time, for the first time, the beautiful fortune-teller foretold yourself love—eternal as life and death at the same time.

The prince's luxurious chambers were in a high tower covered with prickly roses, and it was a part of the castle that had not yet been completely destroyed by time and sorrow, retaining some semblance of frightening grandeur. You have never been in this wing until this night, and if it were up to you, you would never want to be here again. This castle is a place of gore and death, a place from which no one has ever come back alive, but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran away into the impenetrable forest in the middle of a moonless night, fleeing further and further into the whispering darkness—to a place where your family would never find you, even if you had to pay for it with your life.

And so here you are. Waltzing through the endless labyrinths of the crumbling family castle of the beautiful lord of darkness and suffering—the midnight vampire prince Seonghwa—serving him and tending to the gloomy halls of his once glorious family legacy.

Ashes to ashes. Blood to blood.

Your pale, trembling hand floated in the air, hesitant to knock on the heavy, solid black oak door that separated the prince's velvet chambers from the rest of the castle. You had been standing there for some time, surrounded by whispering shadows and silken darkness. Their hissing, serpentine voices, coming to your ears from those dusty, darkness corners, where the dim glow of the candles did not reach:"He knows...he hears...he feels you...feels you..."

Even though it was always bone-chillingly freezing cold in the castle, your nervousness caused a clammy, obnoxious sweat to form on your skin, rolling in thick, glistening drops down your neck to the hollow of your plunging neckline, leaving a cooling, transparent trail resembling a ghostly kiss. You swallowed hard, saliva suddenly pooling in your mouth, and drew in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten, trying in vain to calm the frantic pounding of your heart against your ribs. It shouldn't be a big deal. After all, if the Prince had wanted you dead, your exsanguinated body would have been buried deep underground in his beautiful garden by now, which looked more like an exquisite burial ground than anything else.

It was utterly foolish of you to try and delay the inevitable. Seonghwa was waiting for you; he longed to see you. The prince had personally requested your presence in his chambers this evening, and he was probably well aware of how long you had been standing at the door of his bedchamber.

The prince’s velvety, almost purring voice echoed inside the room as your knuckles barely touched the dark wood of the door: "You can come in, my darling."

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of that hypnotic, enchanting voice. Even though it was muffled by the thickness of the stone walls, you could still clearly feel its otherworldly, terrifying power lurking behind every letter he uttered. The prince's voice was like an angel's plaintive song—beautiful and terrifying at once.

You swallowed hard again and opened the massive oak door, framed in a rich wrought-iron floral design, leaning most of your weight on the hard wood. The thorns of the bronze roses, worn by time, were as sharp as the deadly fangs of a vampire prince. Your entire body shuddered as you stood frozen at the entrance to his private chambers, afraid to step over the threshold. Something ominous and terrifying hung in the air, sending shivers down your spine.

Reflections of blackened family gold caught your eye, emanating from every corner of the room as the flickering candlelight refracted and shattered against the sumptuous antique jewellery. Even more shadows grew and lurked in the corners of the bedroom, hissing and writhing where your gaze couldn't reach them. Every detail in this room spoke of its former glorious majesty.

In awkward cascades of dusty, faded fabric, heavy velvet curtains that had long since lost their rich burgundy colour hung down the walls of the room. Now the home of delicate glass spiders and dead nocturnal butterflies, they were no longer exquisite pieces of decoration. Hanging on the walls, in massive antique gold frames, were the grim, time-worn portraits of the previous owners of this eerie sanctuary of shadow and sorrow, whose veins ran with the same black blood as Seonghwa's. They were a reminder of the vampire prince's cursed legacy. As the bone-chilling wind swept through the room, you could hear the crystal pendants of the chandelier clink. It brought to your ears the whispers of the shadows in languages you had never heard before.

It seemed to you that the air in Seonghwa's private chambers was even colder than the rest of the castle, filled with a sweet, suffocating scent that made you dizzy. Yet some unknown force drew you deeper into the silken darkness of the bedroom, where the beautiful, sinister creature lived her mirthless existence.

"My darling, you've made me wait too long for you. Come here." The command in his languid, seductive voice shot through your body like a whip, leaving your skin burning. Your whole body clenched with fear, paralysed by cold and nervousness, as you hesitantly moved towards the large archway that led into the open, mirrored space of the bathroom.

The faint splash of water was almost drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing through your veins and your heart pounding against your ribs at an almost painful rate. As you paused at the edge of the podium that held a large marble bathtub filled to the brim with rose petals, the knot of anxiety that was slowly forming in your stomach only tightened. The hot steam rising from the water clung to your skin like a lover's caress, filling the air with the intoxicating scent of the flowers, mixed with something unspeakably sweet, something erotic, something animal—a scent that could only belong to Seonghwa himself.

"What can I do for you today, my prince?" You take a deep breath of the freezing air to calm your nerves a little. The faint metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

"First of all, lift your head, my love, so I can have a good look at you." His velvety, seductive voice rolled down the length of your slightly arched spine, spreading a hot, scarlet flush across your flesh as he spoke. You could already feel how the tops of your thighs were starting to get wet with excitement. You were ashamed to admit how your body reacted to him, even though you knew it was part of his vampire personality that allowed him to mesmerise his prey before delivering his deadly, icy kiss.

Every single cell in your body urges you to run as far away as possible, instinctively reacting to the presence of something so evil and dangerous around you. But you ignored your fear and slowly lifted your head to meet the dark, hypnotic gaze of Seonghwa, who leaned back on the edge of the marble bathtub with regal casualness. A grim shiver ran through your entire body at the gaze of those large, gleaming eyes—slanting and predatory like a wild cat's. Your skin tingled at the feeling of the prince's eyes sliding slowly over your body, lingering too long on the heaving ridges of your plump breasts above the deep neckline of the tight corsage. He was staring at you like a rose, tearing you apart in an effort to get to the very core of you, deliberately slow, petal by petal. 

There is a long silence between the two of you, filled only with the loud beating of your heart and the subtle splashing of the water as the prince's long fingers lazily caress the rose petals floating on the surface of the tub. The intense eye contact was unsettling, as if you were looking at a scene that you weren't meant to see, and perhaps that was exactly what it was. 

It was hard to ignore how beautiful the vampire was and how dangerous he was. The lack of any natural flaws was so glaring that it almost made your head spin from the otherworldly perfection of it all. The greatest artists, in their quest for perfect beauty, would not have been able to describe a divine portrait of his face to this earth without even a hint of the incredible reality of his appearances. The verses of the poets could not describe his eyes; the light in them decided the fate of mankind; they had life and death, sinfulness, passion, and sparkling moisture, something that you could never have in human eyes. You didn't know if Seonghwa was the light of heaven or the flames of hell, but you were sure that he was from the first or second world. Seonghwa was either an angel that had fallen from the open heavens or a demon that had risen from hell, or perhaps both at the same time. 

His long arms stretched out on either side of his lithe, slender body, bulging with silky muscles under smooth, moist skin that shimmered like pure gold in the light of burning candle flames, and you swallowed hard at this view. You felt like you'd been lured straight into the lion's den, and he was going to eat you alive. And maybe, just maybe, that was what you wanted so badly. Every night of your stay in this castle, you have had the same dream—the one where Seonghwa feeds on you while he fucks you in front of the huge antique mirror in his dark velvet chambers. Those dreams - so intense and sensual that when you awoke, you could still feel the prince's phantom cold breath on your skin, the lingering touch of his hands on your body, the aching feel of his big cock between your thighs, and the warmth of your blood running down your naked breasts in dark scarlet streams from the small puncture wounds that Songhwa's needle-sharp fangs had left on your neke. And the longer it went on, the stronger this terrible, dark need became to feel the prince's painful, deadly kiss in reality. 

Right now, there was a small part of you that was desperately hoping that Seonhwa's call to you tonight was for that very reason—to feed on you. 

As if reading your thoughts, a sinful, predatory grin formed on Seonghwa's luscious, sensuous lips, and the look in his seductive, half-closed eyes shot through you, making your blood boil with desire. 

Your excitement was so obvious to him, but in spite of this humiliating fact, the thrilling sensation that was fluttering in your lower abdomen and sending shivers of heat between your luscious thighs only intensified. The blood pulsed in your veins so furiously that you could feel its pulse on your neck, and of course Seonghwa felt that seductive throbbing of your life as well. 

"What is your name?" His voice was like a snowy day after a frozen night, smooth as crystal and sparkling like diamonds, when the prince spoke to you again. 

" Y/N." You say it quietly, looking away from the vampire with a little shyness.

" Y/N." When he speaks your name, you get the feeling that it's always belonged to him. Not to you, but to him, it is. His tongue caresses each letter, wrapping around it as if kissing it and licking each syllable as if his sensual mouth were touching the most tender spot between your legs. He fills your name with his own meaning—impossible, forbidden, sinful—a meaning known only to him. 

The soft splashing of the water was the only warning you were given before Seonghwa stood right in front of you in all of his naked glory. Up close, his appearance was even more inhumanly beautiful, devoid of any of the imperfections of nature. He shone like a celestial being bathed in holy light, water droplets dripping down his perfectly smooth golden skin, and part of you longed to lick it. Blood-red petals clung to the chiselled muscles of his chest and stomach in the most seductive way, igniting a roaring heat inside you and fastening a throb in your heart. His long, midnight-black locks seemed to float softly and beautifully on his head, and his skin shimmered with shards of light. No living being could ever be a match for him—beauty, regality, immortality—it was all woven into every bit of his cursed, dark nature. The prince slowly licked his plump, soft lips, and for a moment, one could see the sharp tips of his fangs. 

You had no idea where to look, especially since Seonghwa didn't hide his nakedness but showed it openly. Your gaze slid down the expanse of his bare chest, his sharp collarbones, and his long neck, but you didn't raise your eyes to his godlike face, instead focusing your attention on the silky scarlet rose petals that adorned his skin.

All of the stories that you had heard from the people of your village were absolutely true. Not a single living soul had been able to leave that gloomy, grief-filled Gothic castle, and you couldn't imagine anyone willingly refusing Seonghwa's cold kiss, even if it was the last thing they would ever experience in their lives. Your attraction to him was magnetic, as natural as gravity, as natural as breathing, and so achingly tangible that you could feel it in every part of your body. 

There was complete silence in the room for a moment before his hand came up to your face, and the cold, wet touch of his fingers against your cheek sent a shiver down your spine. You tried not to breathe as he gently ran the tips of his fingers down the length of your cheek. At Seonghwa's silent command, you obediently lifted your head to look straight into those hypnotic, feline eyes, framed by the velvety lace of wet lashes. Your face burned, but at the same time, his mesmerising, bottomless gaze made you want to press your lips to the back of his palm and kiss the silky tips of his long fingers. The embarrassing thought made your mouth dry and your heart beat twice as fast in your chest.

"Aren't you beautiful, my love?" Seonghwa purred in a low, seductive tone. His luscious lips curled into a devilish smile that screamed danger and didn't bode well for you. But that sensual, soft curve of his mouth filled you with a semblance of imaginary safety, as if you were in no danger at all around him. In this scene, you're just a little mouse, and he's a snake, a coiled ring snake, ready to lethal strike.

"I…my prince, you shouldn't say that…" It was hard for you to get any words out of your mouth. You felt as if you were transparent, as if there was no longer any barrier between the air and your body.

"But it is, isn't it? You are so warm, so full of life. It's just too tempting for me to resist." He runs his long, slender fingers along your lips, pressing lightly until his sharp claws dig into the soft, pliant flesh, causing small drops of blood to rise. "I could kiss you right here." He bends down so that he's level with your face and his long tongue sticking out just to lick the blood drops from your lips. As soon as he has tasted you, Seonghwa lets out a deep, fulfilled groan and looks up at you with heavy, bottomless eyes full of animal hunger. "Or here..." Now his godlike face bends down to your neck, and his perfectly sculpted lips touch the spot where he can feel your pulse beating beneath thin skin.

A muffled half-moan escapes from your chest as his sharp incisors scrape lightly against you before Seonghwa begins to suck persistently at this sensitive area. His actions are making you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to ease the warm throbbing of your pussy. The way your body reacts to his touch almost embarrasses you, but even if it weren't for his deeply sexual vampire nature that made everyone lose their mind with lust, you're not sure you'd react any differently. Vampire or not, there was no denying the temptation you felt for Seonghwa. 

"Or even here..." With light kisses, he moved down the length of your neck to the heaving ridges of your breasts above the deep neckline of your corsage. His tongue licked slowly over your skin, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in its wake. This sent a rush of pleasure through your veins and the excited heat flooded your face with a scarlet flush. "You thought about that when you came here this evening, didn't you? Did you imagine how I would drink from you, how I would fuck you?" He asks you in a voice that sounds like that of a dark angel. God, what he's doing to you makes you feel so needy and devastated. You're sure that if he asked you to get on your knees before him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. "You know, I can feel how wet you are for me, my love."

And what would you have been supposed to say to that? He was absolutely right about all of it, and you were so ashamed of this magnetic, otherworldly attraction that you felt for the prince.

"I... I don't know, my prince. I'm so sorry..." You whispered, your voice quivering with both embarrassment and excitement. Seonghwa's magnificent eyes sank into yours, and for a moment you thought you saw stars shining in them before he drew a long fingernail, a line down the column of your throat, past your collarbones, down to the centre of your chest. The vampire tilted his head thoughtfully, and you watched as a mischievous grin appeared on his plump, sensual lips.

"You're sorry, how sweet." He immerses himself fully in the water once more and then returns to his original position on the far side of the tub. "Take your clothes off. I want you to join me." 

The sudden shock of his words running through your body paralyses you for a moment, robbing you of any ability to respond to him at all. The silence between you lingers, and you swallow loudly when his eyes narrow and the mischievous expression disappears from his face, and you open your mouth to try to squeeze out words from yourself. 

"I'm not sure I can do that, my prince. Servants aren't supposed to..." Seonghwa didn't let you finish; he cut off your words with an elegant wave of his hand. 

"A servant is not allowed to disobey his master, and that is all you need to know. Now get undressed and come here; otherwise, I'll do it myself, and sweetheart, I can't guarantee that I'll be gentle with you." 

It was useless to argue with him any further, and instead you began to obediently unbutton your corsage, but every move seemed to be an extra effort, especially as Seonghwa's hypnotic, velvety gaze never left you for a second. Your hands trembled as you pulled your clothes off your warm skin, but you couldn't tell if it was from shame that Seonghwa would see you completely undressed or from the thrill of facing the most seductive predator that had ever existed. Or maybe it was from lust as dark and raw as the look in the prince's hypnotic feline eyes. 

The cool air hit your naked body as your clothes and underwear fell in an unnecessary heap at your feet, leaving you nude before him. 

"Don't make me repeat myself, my darling." Obeying his wish, you cautiously stepped over the edge of the luxurious bathtub and slowly lowered yourself into the warm water, which was full of blood-red rose petals. You pressed yourself against the cold marble behind you, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. Maybe it was the contrast in temperature, or maybe it was Seonghwa's intense gaze that gave your skin goosebumps.

The vampire sprawled out on the edge of the bathtub again, like a large wild cat. His body was curled up in the most seductive way, so that you could see every single muscle underneath his smooth, golden skin. Like everything about Seonghwa, his body was absolutely perfect—he was lean but strong, muscular but lean; every inch of his body was brought to painful perfection by something divine, something that you would never be able to understand because of your ordinariness, your humanity. 

"Come closer to me, my love." 

The rose petals swirled around you as you slowly approached him, your heart pounding in your chest at the impossibility of what was about to happen. Perhaps this was all just a dream, like hundreds of others like it—full of lewd images and lingering touches—and you could wake up any minute, cold and alone in your small bed, with a throbbing need between your legs like every other night you'd spent in this gothic castle. You still kept a small distance between you, hesitating to move any closer to him, and it was obvious that he didn't like it as he reached his clawed hand forward to grab hold of your elbow. 

"I said come closer..." Seonghwa growled in a low voice and pulled you towards him so that your back was pressed against his bare chest. His skin was as cold and smooth as marble, and you shuddered as the tips of his sharp nails ran along the length of your shoulder. 

On the opposite side of the bathtub was a huge mirror, framed in a massive gold frame and lit by a hundred or so melted candles. In the slightly hazy reflection, you could see the beautiful face of Seonghwa as he leaned over to you until his soft lips touched your ear. Your breath caught as the sharp edges of his teeth burned the delicate skin of your earlobe and his fingers slid across your collarbone. 

A soft moan slips from your pink, plush lips as you unconsciously arch up in Seonghwa's arms, pushing your large, plump breasts forward and pressing your ass against his massive, hard cock under the water. His beautiful hands cradle your boobs, squeezing them hard in the palms of his hands, and you almost gasp for breath as the prince presses his sensual mouth to your throat. 

"Look at me, my love. Don't you dare to close your eyes for even a second." You whimper at the sensation of his sharp teeth clawing at your skin, and a sharp, delicious shiver of pleasure runs between your legs. "Otherwise..." He kisses a sensitive spot on the side of your neck, just below your ear. A kiss that makes your pussy all wet and sticky. "I'm going to bite you, but it feels to me like it's exactly what you want so badly. I'm right, aren't I, sweetheart?" In the reflection of the mirror, you could see the way that his hands were slowly massaging your breasts. The light touch of his thumbs on your hard, sensitive nipples made you squirm and writhe. "You're so perfect." Seonghwa purred. "So warm and fragile, and you moan for me like a whore, even though you know that I hold your fleeting human life in the palm of my hand. I could kill you now, but considering how wet your pretty pussy is, that thought only turns you on, doesn't it?" The tone of his voice dropped to a whisper that was as eerily beautiful as the rustling of a thousand dead rose petals. 

Seonghwa's sharp teeth sink a little deeper into your neck, practically tearing the thin skin and drawing blood from it. 

Your mind tries desperately to find a coherent excuse for his words, and you unconsciously close your eyes. Your pulse speeds up as vivid images of Seonghwa drinking from you, slowly consuming your life, sip by sip as he fucks you, fill your mind, and send sparks of excitement flying across your skin. 

Seonghwa growls low, pulling you harder against him, and before you know it, his hand is around your throat, long clawed fingers clenching at the sides of your neck, cutting off the supply of oxygen to your airways. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, the mixture of pain and pleasure threatening to send you into oblivion and some inexplicable part of you wishes he would squeeze his fingers more tighter.

"I told you to keep your eyes open for me." Seonghwa's cool breath touches your ear. "I am tired of your disobedience, my love. How dare you disobey your prince?" His fingers squeezed harder at your throat, and your eyes opened wide - big and frightened - as you began to gasp for air. Just as you felt the blackness coming to the edges of your vision and your consciousness starting to fog up, Seonghwa let go of you and let you breathe.

Trying to connect your thoughts is like wading through a swamp as the prince unclenches his fingers and pulls them away from your neck. Your eyes begin to water and your fingers clench into his hand, as if it might help you to breathe normally again. But Seonghwa doesn't seem to be finished punishing you for disobeying his orders. He grabs your swollen nipple and pinches it roughly, making you sob pitifully at the pleasantly painful sensation.

You still don't answer to him, and with each passing minute of your silence, Seonghwa's displeasure grows, and there is something dark and utterly evil in his eyes. His fingers moved slowly down the length of your thigh, leaving a trail of scalding cold in their wake, despite the fact that you were now in a warm bath. His lazy touches continued until they slid over the delicate, trembling folds of your pussy. And just like that, the pleasant heat that had been building up in your lower abdomen turned into lava that made you melt at the touch of his hand.

"Shall I forgive your disobedience, my love?" Seonghwa slides his fingers over your cunt, touching every inch of your sensitive skin, from your throbbing clit to your tight, wet entrance, spreading your essence over your folds, making them smooth and shiny. Each time they linger over your little hole, you tense reflexively in preparation for his penetration. "Or should I punish you? Should I teach you a lesson in the proper way to treat your prince?" 

"I... I... I think you should punish me, my prince." A gasping moan slips from your lips as your head rests on his shoulder, exposing most of your pale throat to him as Seonghwa slides a long finger inside you, pressing hard against the spongy front wall of your vagina. 

"You see? It's not so hard to do the right thing, dear. You could really use some discipline, you little slut." The prince pulls his finger out of your warm little pussy, and then abruptly stands up on his feet and pulls you up behind him until you are sitting in his arms. He carefully steps out of the tub, pulling you tightly against his wet, hard chest, and steps down from the podium where the marble bathtub stands. 

Seonghwa walks over to a large, time-worn chair that looks like a throne, lowers himself into it, and turns you over. You find yourself face down in his lap, your arse held up. As his fingers slide down your thighs, leaving red marks from his sharp claws, you let out a treacherous half-moan. 

"You look so good, all flushed, my love." Seonghwa's hands cupped your buttocks and squeezed them a few times before spreading them apart, exposing your glistening wet pussy to his gaze. The feel of the cold air on your delicate folds caused your hole to clench involuntarily.

Watching your juices flowing from your pussy, Seonghwa can't help but imagine how you would taste on his tongue and how it would feel to have your pretty pink cunt smothering him as you rock on his face while he eats your sweet dripping pussy juices. Seonghwa can't help but think what you would taste like when he sank his fangs into your little mound and mixed the rich, intoxicating taste of your blood with the essence of you. These thoughts cause him to let out a deep, velvety moan as he digs his fingers deeper into the plump flesh of your buttocks.

"Look at you love, you're absolutely wet, your pussy is literally flowing for me. Are you so excited to be punished? So desperate want to be an obedient, beautiful servant for me?"

"My prince…" The lust flowing through your veins is too strong for your brain to formulate the right words. When you feel Seonghwa's cold breath on your pussy, your pulse accelerates to the point where you almost feel dizzy. He blows lightly on your sticky, soft folds, making you twitch a little.

Nothing could have prepared you for the scalding sensation of his palm coming down hard on your bottom. You scream at the top of your lungs at the throbbing pain, but still more fluid flows from your pussy. Three more slaps land on your bottom, each one leaving a delicious ache. You savoured every second of this bliss that was supposed to be your punishment, although you were terribly ashamed to admit it. He continued to spank you until your screams turned into loud, pitiful sobs and your body began to shake. 

"You are shivering, my love. Are you cold?" Seonghwa let out a grim chuckle, knowing exactly what was making you shiver and squirm. "Then let me keep you warm, my love."

As you unconsciously braced yourself for another slap, a loud scream escaped your trembling lips, as instead of the scalding cold of his palm, you felt small drops of hot wax on your bottom. Each drop that fell on your skin left a throbbing pain in its wake, mixed with a strong sense of pleasure that made you sob and wriggle in his lap. The liquid wax was almost too hot for you. Almost. But if you wanted Seonghwa to drink from you, let alone fuck you, you had to get used to the pleasure of pain. 

"You have to see yourself now, my love. You are so submissive, so warm, and so wet, you excited little slut that you are. Was this what you wanted? You wanted me to punish you, my little darling. To make this slutty pussy all swollen and wet? Look at yourself." Suddenly, Seonghwa lifts you up and turns you around so that your back is pressed against his chest again. He runs his fingers lightly down your thighs before digging into the soft flesh and spreading your legs as wide as he can so that your wet folds are beautifully exposed and you can see your dripping cunt fully reflected in the mirror. 

He reaches down with one hand and slips two fingers into your hole while using the fingers of his other hand to massage your aching clit, making deliciously tight circles that make your hips buck unconsciously in an attempt to get more of that amazing feeling. 

"I have never been able to understand why you mortals take such pleasure in being treated like toys. Why you have such a craving for it..." Seonghwa purred in your ear and curled his fingers inside you, finding the point where you began to see stars and applying the perfect amount of pressure. Silenced by the soft whispers of shadows swirling in the darkness, the moan you let out echoed through the lord's chambers. "But seeing how desperate and pathetic you look now, how needy, I'm beginning to understand. You want someone to take control of you—someone powerful to rule you at will. And my love, you are so lucky that I can bring anyone I want to their knees. And you are no exception." He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you with an embarrassingly loud, wet sound, and you involuntarily let out a cry of loss. In the reflection of the mirror, you can see long, clear strands of your own slime dripping down his fingers. 

He brings the wet fingers to his sensual lips before his long tongue slips out of his mouth and wraps around them, licking up your juices. As he begins to taste you, Seonghwa lets out a deep moan of pleasure. 

"Now show me how beautiful you look on your knees before me, my little slut."

"At your command, my prince." You obediently obey Seonghwa's command and let yourself slip from Seonghwa's lap onto the cold stone floor. From your new position, the aching throbbing between your thighs becomes even more pronounced. As did the burning sensation on your inflamed buttocks.

Slowly, your eyes slid up the length of his delicious thighs before coming to rest on the massive, velvety length of his cock. Of course, his cock was as magnificent as the prince himself—large, wiry, and glistening with the abundant pre-cum that flowed from the dark pink, swollen head. You had had a few lovers before your escape from the village, but none of them had been anything like Seonghwa. Although you weren't a virgin and you knew how to treat a man and how to give him pleasure, you weren't sure if your meagre knowledge would be enough to please the gorgeous vampire prince.

You looked up at him with your big, shining eyes, and unconsciously, you licked your plump lips. You wanted to lick his cock. You wanted to take it in your warm mouth until you were choking on it. You wanted to make him proud of you, to want you to be that one who warmed his cold, solitary bed. But most of all, you wanted to be the source of his life, the immortal vessel that he would drink your life from like precious wine. All of these desires and feelings you had for the prince were humiliatingly embarrassing, and if it hadn't been for the way he looked at you—like a predator catching the tantalising scent of the prey he was about to hunt down—you would have burned with shame. But you were wrong about one thing: Seonghwa didn't look like a predator; he was a predator and the most dangerous and seductive one that ever existed. 

"My sweet little lady, you look so desperate right now." Seonghwa purred, one hand digging into the softness of your hair to pull your face even closer to his cock. "You can have a taste if you want it so badly."

You lean forward and gently stroke the wet and flushed head of his cock with your tongue, teasing it with light, cat-like licks. His chiselled chest, covered in glistening water droplets and soft rose petals, rises and falls with deep breaths. The textured muscles of his abdomen tense as you run your tongue along the silky length of his cock, outlining the seductively swollen vein with the tip of your tongue.

"You look so beautiful like this, kneeling in front of me with your soft lips wrapped around my cock." Seonghwa whispers in a voice so dark and deep that it hits you right in your cunt. It's precious—a sweet jewel of praise from the beautiful vampire prince, which you will wear like a good servant. But in spite of the sweet praise, you hear his direct command: "Take my cock in your mouth.".

It's unlikely you'll be able to get his thick cock all the way down your throat, but you wanted to try. Your lips open and the head of his cock slides easily into your mouth and for a second your tongue rests against his slit and you taste the thick, sweet taste of his cum. Seonghwa moans softly as the head of his cock is completely enveloped in the soft flesh of your lips. A seductive sound runs through your body like a thousand scalding kisses and you raise your eyes to look up at Seonghwa.

He is watching you, looking utterly wicked and like a god himself, wrapped in the thin skin of a man. The flames of the candle danced on the perfect features of his face, shining like a full moon in a world of endless night. His eyes were stars of otherworldly shadow - a depth of infinity that could crush the souls of those far more resilient than you. But it was his lips that most attracted you. They were unjustly obscene, swollen and sinfully scarlet. Temptation and lust are one, and you crave to taste it.

These thoughts make you swallow and unconsciously let his cock slide deeper into the silkiness of your mouth and the tightness of your throat. The nasty gagging sound that you make is so sexy that Seonghwa can't get enough of it. You look absolutely sinful, and it makes him want to possess every part of you. He wants to taste you in every sense, bind you to him, sink his sharp teeth into you, make you his immortal likeness, and then rape you to the deepest depths of time, making you scream like a whore—his whore.

"Come on, darling, take it deeper. Don't worry, every fluid in a vampire's body acts as an aphrodisiac. You'll be able to take my cock all the way down your pretty little throat. Now open your mouth wide for your prince. Seonghwa said and an evil gleam flashed in his eyes.

You could feel the velvety softness of his cock on your tongue, surrounded by the warmth of your mouth as you relaxed your jaw and let his cock slide deeper into your mouth. You take him halfway before you start to choke. Tears burn in your eyes as your lips stretch beautifully around his thick girth. Seonghwa's cock is so damn big for you. It's so heavy, pulsating in the melted, wet juices of your mouth. You wrap your hand around his balls, gently massaging and sometimes touching the base of the dick with your nails. You suck diligently on the head, occasionally letting your flexible tongue run along the slit where the pre-cum oozes out.

"That feels so damn good." The words fell from Seonghwa's plush lips as he threw his head back and rocked his hips a little. The long, midnight-coloured strands of his hair shone like a halo around the top of his head. "You're doing so well, my love. Just... just take my cock like a good maiden." His grip on your hair tightened, and you looked up at him with big, watery eyes, your cunt clenching at how dark the tone of his voice had become. 

"I'll do anything for you..." You moan loudly, drinking in every reaction Seonghwa gives you. Your desire to please him grows and grows.

You so desperately want to touch yourself between your legs, a small, shiny puddle of your mucus forming on the stone floor beneath you. You want to climb back onto his lap and let him fill you with his big, thick cock. You want to feel him in your belly, in your heart, and in your blood. 

You take him deeper, relaxing your throat and bending your head down until your nose touches the smooth skin of his pubic bone. Reflexively, you swallow around him, eliciting deep moans of pleasure from his sensual lips.

"Bloody hell... Mmm. You are such a good little slut." Hwa purrs as he begins to thrust his hips into your mouth. 

His cock plunges down your throat again and again, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum mixed with your drool, filling your mouth with intoxicating sweetness each time he pulls his cock out, until only the silky hot head is left in your mouth and your tongue rests against his slit. As his cock sank fully back into your throat, his hand slid down to massage your distended throat, feeling the bulging hardness of his own cock through the delicate wall of your neke.

Whatever restraint he had before was broken by the feeling of the warm walls of your throat contracting around him and the pleasurable pressure of his hand on your neck. Seonghwa begins to thrust his cock down your throat fast and hard, a flood of praise from his lips that makes you glow with pleasure.

"You have such a perfect mouth for me, my love. It is perfect for me to fuck. Make me come, my love. I want to fill your mouth with my cum." The combination of his gorgeous body above you, glistening from the water and decorated with rose petals, the sensual praise—full of dirty, lewd words—and the way he uses your throat make you even wetter. You feel a new load of mucus pouring out of your pussy. " Look at how your throat is swelling from my cock and how the saliva is dripping from your mouth. You're enjoying this too much, aren't you? You have made such a mess on the floor; do you want me to force you to lick it up with your tongue?

You moo in response to his words. The contraction of your throat around his cock almost makes you gasp as the tender walls fit tightly around the thick, velvety length, clenching incredibly hard around it. His hips twitch, his cock pulsates, and the grip on your hair becomes brutal, but it only elicits more moans from you, vibrating along the length of his cock in the most amazing way. 

Seonghwa pushed his dick into your mouth once more before he came. It was a mesmerising sight, almost hypnotic: the thrusts of his hips were interrupted, his soft, obscenely sensual, swollen lips parted in a deep, ecstatic moan, and his body shook as his orgasm overwhelmed him. A thick, sweet cum shot down your throat, and you began to swallow the copious stream of his pleasure. His sperm was nothing like the salty, almost bitter taste of human sperm, and you marvelled again at how everything about vampires was designed to lure and intoxicate their victims in every way possible. 

As he pulled away, his sperm began to spill out of your mouth, running down your chin and dripping onto the floor, where the puddle of your slime grew larger. Seonghwa reached his hand up to your face and ran his fingers over your swollen lips. He gathered the thick, pearly liquid on his fingertips, then pushed it into your open, pliable mouth.

"Such a good girl." Seonghwa murmured as your tongue wrapped around his fingers and cleaned them. 

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a slight 'pop', you lifted your watery eyes back to his. Long trails of tears shone like diamonds across the puffy, flushed cheeks of your face. 

"My prince, I beg you. I need to come so badly. Please let me come, my prince, please. My pussy so needs it." You begged, almost whimpering, as you lay at his feet. In the bliss that followed his orgasm, he gently cupped your cheek, even stroking your hair lightly with his other hand, and looked lovingly at you with his bottomless dark eyes. His long, fluffy lashes fluttered like a dying sun in the purple twilight, glittering in all the colours of the spectrum in the dim light of the bath.

"Oh, my little lady, let your prince make you feel better." Seonghwa cooed. His voice was a velvety purr wrapped in darkness.

Seonghwa rises up from his chair in an elegant manner and holds out a graceful hand for you to help you to your feet. Your fingers tremble as you take his hand and slowly rise, almost stumbling on your wobbly, shaky legs, but Seonghwa's firm grip prevents you from falling. The prince's tall, naked body towers over you like an ancient, dark deity, making you feel small and vulnerable under the weight of his bottomless, black gaze. He wraps his long, cold fingers around your chin and lifts your face up so that you're looking straight at him. 

At that moment, the room seems to shrink, and the air is filled with something sensual, hot, and dark. Something that almost makes your skin tingle with a sharp, glass-like arousal. The otherworldly presence of the prince was undeniable—a dangerous dance between living and dying. A loud sob escaped from your lips, which were still covered in the remnants of semen, as Seonghwa leaned closer to you, his beautiful, plump lips hovering just a few inches away from yours. 

"Now it's my turn to have a taste of you, my love." The first touch of his plush lips against yours sent a dizzying rush of excitement up and down your spine. You let out a loud moan into his beautiful, soft mouth as Seonghwa's long tongue pushed your lips apart and immediately took hold of your mouth. His kiss is all-consuming and devouring, as if he wants to devour your very soul and take you over the edge of life with him. He ravages your soft lips with an intensity that borders on sadistic pleasure, and you are so intoxicated by the kiss that you almost don't notice when his sharp teeth sink into your innocent lower lip and your mouth fills with thick blood.

When too much of the viscous, saturated liquid gathers in your mouth, you reflexively swallow, feeling a lingering metallic taste on your tongue, which disappears almost immediately, licked away by Seonghwa's long, flexible tongue, which wraps around your tongue like a snake. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, long fingers tugging painfully at the soft strands, causing a palpable burning sensation on the delicate skin of your head. With his other hand, he wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to his cold, hard body, using this rough grip to restrict your movements. 

You give a little moan against his lips, almost relishing the pain you're feeling—the hot excitement in your stomach twisted into a knot—too tight and painful to ignore. The insides of your thighs are uncomfortably sticky and wet, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the throbbing in your needy cunt. 

Your blood tastes of black roses, forgotten poems, confessions of love—it burns all of Seonghwa's senses, and you feel rather than hear him purr softly with pleasure—a velvety, decadent, almost animal sound coming from deep inside his chest. He continues to greedily lap up the blood from your mouth, sliding his tongue over your palate, your gums, and the inside of your cheek. Seonghwa roughly pulls your wounded lower lip into his vicious mouth, only to bite down on it with his sharp teeth, causing more of your blood to drip onto his tongue. 

The kiss seems endless, and your mind begins to drift; you feel like you're delirious from the feeling of the cold heat of his beautiful, sensual mouth. The spiral of lust inside you tightens; the pressure builds until it becomes too much for you to bear, and for a long, eternal moment, it seems to you that Seonghwa wants to keep you at that height forever. You barely notice when his hand releases your waist and slips between your bodies, and you squeal loudly, pulling yourself away from his incredibly seductive lips as his cold fingers suddenly pinch your sensitive clit. 

"Oh, my God. That's so... Too m-m-much...' You stammer out your words, unable to form sentences; the pain and the pleasure mix together, and you feel completely intoxicated. 'My prince, please...' As his fingers rub relentlessly against your clit, you can't stop yourself from moaning loudly. The pressure inside you increases as you rise higher and higher, but the lack of any particular rhythm makes it difficult for you to come to the edge, and the intensity of his touch becomes almost overwhelming for you.

"What's the matter, my darling? Does your sweet pussy still hurt? Don't I make it easier for you? Or are you just a greedy little bitch that has a craving for more?" The deep purr of his voice vibrates through your body as his fingers begin to roughly squeeze your clit. 

You let out a helpless moan in response to his words; the sound you make is full of both need and desire. All you can think of now is that Seonghwa is using you, that he is destroying you so thoroughly and so brutally that his mark will be imprinted on your body and your soul forever. 

"Oh, I can see it now. You're just like all the thousands of other people—a pathetic, ungrateful whore." Seonghwa suddenly lets go of your hair, and your head falls back like a doll's. And God, in all of his eternity, Seonghwa has never seen anyone more beautiful than you, especially when you have crystal tears rolling down your soft, flushed cheeks. You remind him of a broken porcelain doll, fragile and delicate, which he can glue back together in any way he likes.

"Please forgive me... Forgive me, my  prince." In the midst of this chaos of sensations, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. The Prince's black velvet eyes, heavy and clouded, his sensual lips, swollen and smeared with your blood, and his magnificent face have taken on a kind of waxy appearance—features smoothed to a painful perfection that could never exist among the living, like the face of a saint descended from an icon. It's almost frightening, but at the same time, it makes you want to beg him all the more desperately. Please let me cum, my prince. I need to cum so badly...'

"Oh, my love...' Seonghwa purrs indulgently, admiring the hot tears that are rolling down your face as his cold fingers continue to circle around your swollen clit. Your legs are trembling from his touch, and you have the feeling you could faint at any moment. As his two long fingers, wet with your own slime, slide into your quivering hole, you catch your breath and gasp for air. You're so sensitive to the slightest touch, and Seonghwa takes advantage of that, pressing his fingers against the silky walls of your pussy, causing you to arch your hips towards him in the hope of more stimulation. "Just look at you, my little darling. You're crying so sweetly for me. Begging so sweetly for your prince charming to have his way with your pretty pussy." The tone of his voice is like velvet wrapped in the darkness of the night, and his feline eyes glow with a kind of otherworldly evil that can barely be contained in the black, unfathomable depths of his irises. 

The heavy fog of lust completely envelops your mind, and you barely register his words. The prince's fingers dig deep into the tightness of your plush, plump cunt, and Seonghwa draws the cold, velvety pads of his fingers to press and rub the sweet, sticky spot in your pussy. He does it roughly and sharply, and he doesn't stop stimulating the over-excited, spongy walls of your cunt until your mucus begins to flow into the palm of his hand.

"It's too much... It's too much, my prince. I can't take it anymore. I can't. Ah, please, please! Seonghwa."

"But am I not merciful to you, my dear? Does not the touch of my hand soothe the pain, my love?" With his other hand, he cups your breast, squeezing and twisting the tender nipple between his fingers as he goes. "Do you want me to stop?" He asks as he relentlessly inserts a third finger into your squelching pussy, and the stretching of your little hole becomes both agonising and pleasurable at the same time.

'No!' You cry out, shaking your head desperately, the walls of your cunt clinging to his fingers, clenching and throbbing around the long appendages that are adorned with massive rings of precious stones, as the wave of pleasure slowly begins to roll over you. "No. Don't stop... Please don't stop, my prince. I want you to keep going... I'm too close."

Seonghwa laughs darkly as she leans down to your neck and lightly bites down on the spot where your pulse beats with her sharp teeth, almost feeling your orgasm on her tongue. 

"Will you cum for me? Cum on the fingers of your prince?" You feel like you're soaring, higher and higher, and just when you have the feeling you're about to reach your peak, the pleasure evaporates and you plummet. The loss of your orgasm makes you give a pathetic whimper.

"No, I beg you. Please, my prince...' You sob as Seonghwa pulls his fingers out of you completely, leaving your greedy, needy hole clutching at nothing, desperately trying to hold on to the melting remains of your orgasm. You collapse next to him, becoming like a beautiful, broken thing in his hands, looking up at him with your beautiful, crying eyes, begging for his mercy. 'Sonhawa...' His name tastes of violence, of the Middle Ages, holiness, and sex, and it leaves a stigma on your lips the moment you utter it. 

'Oh, my poor little girl.' A fake sense of pity fills his voice as he ignores the way your wounded lower lip quivers at the loss of relief and the way more tears flow from your eyes. A devilish smile blossoms on his gorgeous, plump lips before his hand returns to your wet clit and begins to rub the super-sensitive bundle of nerves in slow, hard, figure-eight motions. "I'm so sorry, my love, but it's not up to you whether you can have an orgasm or not. You should be grateful for what I am giving you." The vampire purrs, running his tongue along the sweet spots of your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. Under the pressure of fangs as sharp as broken glass, the skin tears like paper. You squeal at the pain that ripples through your veins, but the sensation fades quickly as his fingers sink back into the silky warmth of your tight cunt. 

Seonghwa pushes his thumb down to press it against your slippery clit and rubs it roughly. And you instinctively squeeze your legs together, squeezing the plump flesh around his forearm as if that will stop the relentless stimulation of his fingers on your G-spot and his thumb on your swollen, throbbing clit. He lets out a deep, dark moan into your skin, kisses your neck, and licks the protruding drops of blood from you.

You're such a mess; your cum is dripping down the inside of your thighs, dripping onto the floor, and the sound your cunt makes every time his fingers go in and out of you is disgustingly wet, squelching, and utterly sinful. 

The prince watches you go dumb and twitchy under his touch. He plunges his long fingers even deeper into the wet, velvety walls of your cunt and bends them so that the pads of his fingers press perfectly against your golden spot, causing your sticky, wet fluid to squirt profusely all around you. He laughs as you squeal and squirm.

"That's right, my love, make me dirty. Fill this room with the divine fragrance of your excitement." He rubs your cunt randomly, and it makes your legs shake. You gasp at the sobs and moans that echo through his bathtub, echoing with such a loud, deafening echo that you're sure the sound is reverberating throughout the castle. Your brain is clouded in a haze, and all you can feel is Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa....

As if he hadn't just ripped the most intense orgasm out of you, the prince pushes his fingers back into your plump cunt, and you shudder, your pussy clenching and a pearly, slippery drop dripping from your wounded hole. 

"I can't take it anymore... don't need to...' He ignores you, preferring to sink his fingers deeper into your plush walls, your tongue flicking out of your mouth as you breathe heavily.

"Wasn't that what you wanted, dear? This is exactly what you asked me so desperately for, isn't it? I'm just giving it to you. You will cum again. And you will do this until I decide you've had enough." Seonghwa tells you and does not give you a chance to disobey his order. His fingers are thrusting faster and faster into the sloppy mess of your cunt, and your eyes are closing in a euphoria of pleasure, and you are arching your whole body to him. The beautiful veins on his forearms are surging up as he touches your cunt. "Come on, my love, behave yourself, and submit to your prince." Seonghwa twists his wrist, his fingers sliding up and down until they come to rest on your G-spot, and you squeal in exhaustion as you squirt your cum all over his gorgeous body, soiling it. The slime pools on his palm and drips onto the inside of your thigh, and he leans down to touch his lips to your open mouth as he pulls his fingers out of your used, burning pussy. He softly massages your thighs and licks your lips soothingly in a strange imitation of a kiss.

You groan as the last waves of your orgasm begin to subside, but even so, you're still a long way from the satisfaction you crave. The distant thought of the aphrodisiac in his seed floats to the edge of your consciousness, but it disappears instantly, replaced by a burning need to be filled by his cock and a feeling that you may die if he doesn't satisfy that need.

'Please. I want you, I need you, and I want to feel you inside my body. There is nothing else that matters to me, my prince." There is pure desperation in the sound of your voice. 

Seonghwa pulls away from you and watches as you gasp for breath and shiver as you look up at him through your thick, wet lashes.

"You really are nothing but a greedy little slut. Seonghwa whispers as he digs his fingers into your thighs and lifts your body up as if you weighed nothing, manoeuvring you so that your legs are wrapped around his thin, perfect waist. The head of his hard cock touches the entrance of your vagina between your slick, swollen folds. "You're so lucky your blood isn't the only thing that draws me, my love." He begins to walk slowly along the length of the tub, carrying you in his arms as if you were a fragile doll. 

There is darkness in his bedroom; the thick, icy cold fills the room and tingles on your heated skin like a hundred needles. As Seonghwa gently lays you down on his royal bed, wrapped in silken sheets, you freeze, waiting for him to touch you. He leans over you like a dark angel that has descended from the heavens to destroy you, and you open your lips to catch his ghostly breath in your mouth as he speaks.

"From the moment you entered my chambers, I could feel the sweetness of your cunt on my tongue; you're aroused; you need me so obviously." His teeth graze the skin of your throat as he speaks. 'I can feel it in your blood...' For half a second, you feel the sharp pressure of his fangs as they press against the pre-existing wounds from his previous bite. It makes every muscle in your body tingle with the anticipation of pleasure. "It is tempting and seductive, but I have a taste for you in so many more ways, my love." There was a heavy pause between you as his gaze slid down the length of your body and stopped at your glistening pussy. 'And I'm really spoilt to choose. But are you up to it, my little servant? Can you, can you satisfy my insatiable hunger?'.

His words make your toes clench, and the pleasure in your belly grows once again, turning into a real flame that lies in your veins, and you let out a long moan, filled with longing and desperation. 

"I will do whatever you want me to do, my prince. I will be anything you need me to be...'

Seonghwa doesn't answer you but instead begins to kiss your neck, slowly moving his kisses down to your heaving, plump breasts. He raises his hypnotic eyes towards you, and his lashes flutter as the vampire teases your swollen pink nipple with the tip of his sharp tongue. Your body arches up over the bed, your breath catching in your throat as he sucks the sensitive bud into the silkiness of his warm mouth. His tongue splashes and swirls around your nipple as he sucks on your breast before he releases it from his mouth with a wet sound.

"The human body has always been such a fascination to me—so soft, so delicate, so responsive to every fleeting touch." He whispers as he continues to slowly kiss your body. Seonghwa runs his tongue over your navel and licks the skin of your belly. He takes his time; he has an eternity of time, and this knowledge is driving you crazy. You shudder as his elegant palms come to rest on your thighs and as he spreads your legs wide so that your cunt is completely exposed to his gaze. With his supernatural eyesight, you knew that he would be able to see every detail of you in the half-light of the bedroom. Your heart began to beat faster and faster in anticipation of what you knew was going to happen next. The lingering feeling of your previous orgasm was once again tingling you from the inside. 

Seonghwa sits down between your legs, and you let out a stifled cry as he brings his godlike face close to your pussy and runs his tongue between the sticky folds. 

He immediately lifts his eyes to you, the flames of the candle reflected in his dark irises, the black abyss of them pulling you down into an endless, lustful wasteland. His hands are wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer to him. The pleasure wraps itself tightly around the base of your spine. Seonghwa's tongue licks your clit hard, the exquisite taste of you tingling it, tingling it under the marble-gold skin where the black vampire blood splashes hotly in veins. 

Your juices ooze out onto his tongue and onto his lips, dripping down to where the insides of your thighs are reddened by his sharp claws. He drags his tongue along your folds in slow, teasing licks, savouring the taste of you as he feasts on your cunt, so wet and sweet, so juicy and plump under his tongue. Your hips arch forward, and Seonghwa allows you to be pressed even closer to his beautiful face. The palms of his hands slide down your thighs, and you feel how his thumbs push your labia apart, just so that he can slide his tongue deep into your wet hole. A series of high-pitched moans escape from your mouth as you run your fingers through his long black hair, your nails digging into the skin of his scalp as you do so. 

"It tastes so damn sweet; you're like a wine that has been aged for centuries, intoxicating and scorching. I've never tasted anything like it before." The vampire purrs into your sensitive cunt, burying his face even deeper between your legs, his skilful tongue and his sharp nose rubbing against your clit, giving you heavenly pleasure in all the right places.

His mouth continues to move along your overly sensitive nerves, and he smiles as you begin to twitch and shake. The sensation is overwhelming, and you begin to sob openly again. 

"My prince, that feels so good... ahh!" A particularly loud moan comes out of you as his tongue curls round and touches your g-spot.

With the pad of his thumb, Seonghwa begins to run circles over your clit, and you begin to thrash around on the silk sheet, trying to get away from the abusive touch on your painfully throbbing clit. Seonghwa growls and slaps you viciously on your thigh, which manages to calm you down, before he hides his face between your legs once more and continues to tease your essence. Pain and pleasure merge together, and you can't tell where dreaming ends and reality begins. So many nights you've spent in vivid fantasy dreams, full of images that would get you burned at the stake if the people of your village ever found out. And here you are, lying in your prince's luxurious bed while he eats you as if his life depended on it.

Feeling his tongue between your velvety walls and his thumb circling your clit, occasionally scratching it with his sharp fingernail, the sensation of your orgasm has crept up on you. With his heightened senses, he knows you're close, and he's balancing on the edge of coming. One more stroke of his tongue, one more rub of his fingers over your clit, and your walls begin to clench together in the spasms of an overwhelming orgasm.   The edges of your vision go black, your sight fading as you fly off the cliff and fall into an abyss of pleasure. Your head is thrown back, and your spine is arched in a perfect arc of sin and bliss. 

An approving purr escapes Seonghwa's devilishly beautiful lips as your cunt twitches and clings to his tongue as he continues to splash in the copious slime that pours out of you, lapping up your release, insatiable and deaf to your pleas as you begin to squirm. Any attempt to wriggle away from him is crushed by the rough grip of his hand on your thigh. The nails dig into the plump flesh, drawing out your blood. Rivers of scarlet, like divine tears, flow down your scarred skin and drip down onto the bed. 

'Seonghwa...' His name rings out on your lips as his own lips continue to press passionately and relentlessly against your pussy, sucking and licking, greedily swallowing up all the liquid that flows from you. His jaw moves smoothly and somehow lazily as your body almost rises to meet another orgasm. Your fingers clench tightly in his hair, your moans and squeals blend together in a symphony of pure bliss, and you come again on his tongue, even harder than before. 

Your body is shaking in never-ending ecstasy. Ecstasy burns your body and turns it to ashes. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes as he licks you thoroughly and gently, until your body is completely boneless and soft to the touch. 

After a few agonisingly long moments, he pulls away from your cunt and blows lightly on the inflamed, abused folds after his caresses, and you shiver as his cold, ghostly breath touches your flesh. Seonghwa's chin is wet with the viscous slime of you and his own saliva. He stares at you, enjoying the sight of your helplessness and vulnerability, all of you at his mercy. The vampire can see the sheen of your juices spreading down the inside of your thighs and dripping from your swollen, reddened centre. 

You've slowly come down from your high, still swimming in a lustful haze, and even though you've had several orgasms, you're still not satisfied. You need more. Much more. Seonghwa was absolutely right—you're nothing but a greedy human whore. 

"Please... You barely squeezed out. Please fuck me... " You desperately wanted to feel him inside you. You wanted him to writhe with the pleasure of your blood and body, as you did with his favour. 

"Do you want more? Greedy, insatiable whore." Seonghwa purred, his black eyes glowing with an almost otherworldly radiance in the darkness of the bedroom. "What are you going to give me in return, my love? Shouldn't you be thanking your prince?"

You turn your head faintly to expose your neck and hear a dark, velvety laughter licking your skin before his chubby lips find a tender spot on your throat. Weightless kisses that turn to nibbles, and you whimper under his care. He hasn't hurt your skin yet; he is playing skillfully with you, and a slight feeling of unease grips you. The lack of control over your body, over where and when he would bite you, or over how rough he would be with you, was a big part of your nervousness. 

Too quickly for you to notice, one of his hands cupped your chin to hold you in place, and then the sharp pain of his fangs pierced your throat. As he began to drink, a muffled moan escaped your mouth. The shock of his cold bite passed through your body like an icy wave. Seonghwa's hypnotic eyes closed as your thick, precious blood ran over his tongue. The sensation was a temporary respite from the incessant hunger that plagued him, dulling the cravings and soothing his stomach. His plump lips curled into a smile as he pressed harder against your skin. 

He let go of your chin and placed his hand on your chest instead, gently squeezing the plump flesh. The possessive, intimate touch of his hand contrasted sharply with the sting of his fangs. It soothed you strangely, and the tension in your body eased. You could also feel the hardness of his big, thick cock against your thigh. 

Seonghwa could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his lips; his pace was fast and weakened by the rapid loss of blood. He should have stopped, unless he wants to completely exhaust your body now. The lord pulls away from you as he feels the saturation of your blood—your life flowing through his veins—the blood thickening and becoming viscous, turning a shade of deep night darkness. A sweet moment when your life becomes his. 

You try to focus your blurry gaze on him as Seonghwa pulls away from you. He smears the blood running down his chin with his fingers and licks the residue off his pads. 

"You're perfect. The most delicious food I've tasted in centuries of my life. There's something special in your blood...' Seonghwa whispers, caressing your cheek, brushing the dishevelled hair from your flushed face, and wiping away the tears that remain on your lashes. "I don't think I could ever get enough of you."

You had absolutely no energy to answer him and just lay there, melting under his touch. He continues to touch you lightly until Seonghwa leans down to suck on your nipple, his tongue swirling over it in slow, deliberate movements. Your back arched, and your lips parted in a soft moan. For a few minutes, he just enjoys the feel of your soft nipple in his mouth. He slowly sucks your breasts, and the next moment he lifts your legs and wraps them around his slender waist. 

Seonghwa wraps his hand around his cock and runs the thick, wet head of it over your trembling, sensitive folds a couple of times before she pushes it into you. The feel of his cock stretching your walls is almost immediately the trigger for another orgasm. You moaned loudly at the long-awaited feeling of being filled. Seonghwa has stretched you out so beautifully and pressed himself perfectly against your silky, smooth walls, which are covered with your juices. 

He slowly enters you with his whole massive length; you are so sensitive that you can feel every inch of him and every vein on your walls so clearly that it's almost painful. You press your hips against his, desperate for friction. Seonghwa grins as he begins to move, dragging his cock along your quivering walls and letting out a deep moan every time the delicate edges of your hole cling to the head of his cock. 

His beautiful eyes focus on your face as he moves, narrowing with his sly smile as he finds the perfect angle to make your eyes roll with pleasure.

"Look at me, my love." Seonghwa ordered. "I want to have a look into your eyes while I fuck you into oblivion."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and the prince purrs in endorsements as he begins to thrust in and out of you at a rapid pace, thrusting so hard into your tight, squirming pussy that you can almost feel his cock in the back of your throat. Your mind goes completely blank as his cock comes all the way out of you before he plunges back into your inviting warmth all the way down to the base of his dick. The rhythm is rough and brutal, but it feels almost like heaven to you.

"You're such a good girl. Look how well you're taking it. You know, vampires can go into a frenzy when they fuck. But you're not afraid of that, are you?" The way you're tensed up and the way you're trembling underneath him almost brings him to the brink of madness, but Seonghwa holds back his animal urges and slows down his pace instead. 

You let out a wordless cry, completely lost in nothing but the obscene sound of your copulation—the sticky slap of skin against skin. 

"I am going to fill you with so much of my cum that it will drip from you for days, my love." Seonghwa wants to mark you in every possible way; he wants to tie you up; he wants to bite you; he wants to breed you. He wants you to belong only to him—to his world, to his darkness, to his blood, and to his own kind. "Everyone will have the knowledge that you are mine, for they will have the smell of my blood and my seed on you." He breathes into your ear as his pace picks up, and he sets an agonising rhythm, each movement of his cock hitting that special place inside of you.

'Seonghwa!' Your walls squeeze against him even harder than before as another orgasm begins to creep closer to you.  The prince presses his fingers against your clit, and then presses his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. As his mouth slides so passionately over your lips, as his thumb strokes in circles around your quivering clit, and as his thick cock slides in and out of you, the heat that is building up inside of you becomes almost unbearable. 

"Mmm, you feel so good." He tells you, running his tongue over your trembling lower lip. "You will belong to me forever.".

The thought that Seonghwa could turn you into a vampire and spend the rest of eternity with you was enough to bring you to orgasm. Uncontrollable pleasure engulfed your entire body. Seonghwa moaned velvetily, resting his face against your neck as you began to come. Your silky walls squeezed his cock as your climax plunged your consciousness into complete darkness. The pace of his thrusts quickened, and before long, he was muffling your cries of pleasure with his mouth, devouring every lewd sound that managed to escape from you.

"My prince... Seonghwa...' You managed to breathe out against the lips of his mouth. 'I want to be with you forever... I want you to be inside me...'

Your words filled him with a lust that was far greater than his thirst for blood, and soon he was inside of you as deep as he could go, his cock twitching as he found his own orgasm. He came in your pussy, filling you with his thick, viscous cum as he called out your name in a hoarse voice. 

After a few moments, Seonghwa came out of you and gave you a chance to catch your breath. The mixture of his cum and your own juices slowly poured out of your used pussy and started to drip down onto the sheets. 

"And you will, my love. You certainly will.'

Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the gorgeous vampire prince circles the precious crystal coffin, his fingertips lightly stroking the cold, smooth crystal. The sneaky light of the somnambulistic stars falls on your face like the veil of a bride. He had arranged you here in all luxury: your hair was covered with diamond powder, glittering in the lace of the moonlight; he had painted your lips a delicate scarlet, the same colour as the cheeks of the radiant seraphim in church frescoes; and under your tongue he had placed petals of black violets, soaked in his midnight blood. Your body was wrapped in the most luxurious antique lace, embroidered with mother-of-pearl tears of dragons and pearls from the bottom of the sea. 

You were so beautiful... seductive, like a deadly flower that lures prey before swallowing it whole.

As he arranged hundreds of black velvet roses around your fragile body, a shy softness tinted his godlike face. Thorny rose bushes bloomed around the coffin as the castle of fairytales turned into a tomb with only one living soul. 

"You're in no danger now." Seonghwa whispered, stroking your beautiful hair. "Nothing can harm you now, and you will always be my love. Always and forever..."

Seonghwa is seated at a small round table and is playing his leisurely game with the fates. The elegant hands of the beautiful Dweller of Darkness skillfully guide the Hand of Fate. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities. One by one, Seonghwa turns over the ancient, worn cards, the corners of his devilishly sensual lips curving slightly as he sees the familiar layout: Lovers, Death, Empress, Love, Eternity, Beloved. The gaze of his fathomless, hypnotic eyes turns to you—his majestic bride, awaiting her awakening.

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the ominous Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where, according to ancient legend, the beautiful Midnight Prince and his gorgeous bride keep the guilty legacy of their bloodthirsty ancestors. 

[yeonzzzn]

stuck with me: park jongseong

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 26.2k

synopsis: in the middle of the apocalypse, you and jay find each other in a situation of life and death, using the protection of each other to get to the next safe zone. unfortunately for the both of you, things take a turn once secrets get revealed and the fight for survival becomes greater.

genre: enemies to lovers, zombie apocalypse!au, blonde jay, smuggler hyung line + smuggler txt, riize members + jungkook and namjoon make appearances, smut.

warnings: swearing, blood, weapons(guns and knives), drug mentions, make-out session, multiple unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f. rec), gun goes pew pew, mentions of d**th, MINORS DNI, lemme know if I missed anything ♡

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jay said, the barrel of his shotgun pointing straight ahead, his heart rate racing faster than just a second ago, index finger twitching as his whole hand shook. 

You stood across from him, pointing your pistol right back at him, aiming directly for the middle of his forehead. 

Unfortunately for you, you had three other shotguns pointing directly at you. 

Your glare didn’t relent as you eyed each of them. 

“You’d be wise to drop your weapon,” you darted to the one who spoke, his dark red dyed hair hung slightly over his eyes, a sure sign that he didn’t trust you. Which was fair. You didn’t trust them either. 

“Four against one,” one smirked, his natural fangs showing, “Be smart, girl.” 

“I was here first,” you snapped, eyes darting between the four of them, “Find another place to ransack.” 

Jay glanced to his left as Jake took a step ahead of him, “As if! Drop your fucking weapon!” he yelled at you. 

You scoffed, raising both hands up, slowly backing away. Vampire fangs was right, it was four against one. There was no scenario where you would win this fight. Not when four shotguns were being pointed at you with the low amount of ammo you had left. It was a loser situation. They slowly lowered their guns slightly, obviously still on edge. 

Jay watched you carefully as you backed away. Watching as your long-sleeved shirt forsaken you, revealing the white bandage wrapped around your forearm with blood soaking through. His heart raced faster, eyes widened. 

“She’s been fucking bit!!” the redhead snapped, all four of the boys' weapons locking back into place pointing at you. 

“Shit,” Jay hissed. 

You lowered your pistol back at the blonde, gritting your teeth. 

**5 HOURS BEFORE**

You stuffed your mouth with the extra shirt from your backpack, biting down as hard as your jaw let you, and rolled up your sleeve to your elbow, the bite mark on your forearm still looking as gross as ever. 

The bottle of medical alcohol you found at the hospital sat to your left on the counter as you dangled your bitten right arm over the hospital's sink. 

You grabbed the bottle and took a few massive deep breaths in before pouring the alcohol down onto the bite. 

Your grip on the shirt tightened as you hissed in pain, doing everything you could possible to keep your groans to a reasonably quiet level to not alert any living or undead beings that could be stalking the hospital to your current location. 

Once the last of the alcohol dripped from the bottle and onto your arm, you grabbed the paper towels and gently dabbed your skin then tossed the towels behind you. You then picked up the tube of ointment, spreading enough on your fingers to rub gently on the bite. Adding the finishing touch of wrapping the white bandages around the bite and securing it tight. 

You got lucky to have found all these supplies when you did or else you’d be dead soon due to infection and loss of blood. 

You quickly pulled your long-sleeve back down then tossed your extra shirt, along with your newfound medical supplies, into your backpack and threw it over your shoulders. 

In all honesty, besides just being lucky enough to have found these supplies, you were lucky to still even be breathing. 

It’s been three years since this hell started. Since the so-called “cure” for some wack-ass disease was created for treatment that ultimately backfired and turned anyone who took it into a man-eating monster. And as the world failed to contain the outbreak, if anyone who was affected by the treatment bit or even scratched someone else, it too turned them into man-eating monsters. Or zombies if you will. Maybe even runners, clickers, or bloaters if you played the famous “The Last of Us” video game before the world went to shit. The walking dead, walkers, lurkers, the infected. Basically, any term you can think of for zombies is literally what was happening. 

Before the world knew it, everyone was thrown into this universe of kill or be killed to survive. The strong-willed were the only ones who survived. Or unless you were lucky and packed up with others. Or even extremely lucky and live inside one of the safe zones and not have to worry about leaving it. 

Unfortunately for you, you were all the above, minus not getting to leave the comfort of the safe zone. 

The safe zone you lived in was small and quiet. Not a lot of people, maybe a little over three hundred. So when supplies ran low, teams were sent out to gather more. Your safe zone wasn’t lucky enough to have military aid, and even when the military did come by to give supplies, it never was enough. Guess they saw your safe zone as a waste of time. 

You’ve ventured out of the safe zone multiple times for supply runs, so when you were picked to be a part of the team to head out, you thought nothing of it. Thought of it as just another scouting and supply run…but it wasn’t. Clearly. 

Your luck had to run out at some point, and that day just so happened to be where the luck ended. 

Your team was stuck between a rock and a hard place, quite literally, actually. The rock technically being a wall and the hard place being the undead had your team surrounded with no chances of escaping. Two of your team members were already killed, one got bit and killed themselves to spare the pain of changing, leaving just you and four others. One got scratched on the leg and had no other chance of escaping. Bless that man because he used his last bit of flares and bullets to part the sea in a chance to let you and the others make a run for it. 

You held onto the hand of your best friend as you both booked it on the small clear path. And once the sea started to close, you knew it was over. Your friend was ripped from your hand, her screams filling your ears along with the others who were being torn apart. You wanted to give up. You should have given up. You were surrounded, and the smell of death from the unliving as they were only nearly inches away from you. But some spark of hope kept you moving forward. Some unrelenting force pushing you towards the window. Your best friend yelled at you to keep going. If you were honest, her voice wasn’t the only thing that gave that hope. Something else was drawing you to stay alive, and what could that have been? You didn’t know. But you wanted to find out. 

You guarded your neck and face with your arms as you jumped through the window, the sound of breaking glass being loud enough and the smell of your blood that now ran down your arms surely alerted any other zombies in the area. But you kept moving once your feet touched the ground and started sprinting. You kept moving even as the tears streamed down your face as you left your teammates behind. 

You were the lone survivor. 

It didn’t take you long to notice the bite on your forearm just above your wrist once you got to a water stream and soaked your cut and bruised arms from breaking the window. You thought you were done for. That everyone else’s sacrifices were all for nothing. You wouldn’t be accepted back at the safe zone if you even made it back to the safe zone. Once you’ve been bit or scratched it takes roughly twenty-four hours before you start turning. The safe zone was two days away. You wouldn’t make it. 

Except you did. 

It’s now been a month since you’ve been bitten and nothing about you has changed besides the fact you have a random ass zombie bite mark on your arm that is slowly, but surely, healing. It will be one hell of a scar. 

You knew returning back to the zone wouldn’t work. They’d kill you on the spot. Or if they let you back in and notice you’ve survived a bite mark…you’d just become an experiment. Just like in every zombie video game and movie. 

So you took to the life of being a lone wolf. Doing everything—and meaning everything—you needed to survive. 

You continued your search of the hospital, gathering more medical supplies and any food left behind. Along with more ammunition(even if it was just a few bullets) for your pistol and any other weapons to add to your arsenal. As you passed by a window, you noticed just how low the sun was setting, meaning you needed to either get to a safe place within the hospital or attempt to find a nearby building or house that was safer. 

Because let’s be honest, who knew who or what was in this hospital still. And you sure as fuck weren’t going to be sticking around long enough to find out. 

You lifted up your sleeve to check your bite, seeing a small amount of blood staining the bandage. You quietly cursed, knowing you had to leave as soon as possible before something detected your blood smell. The only thing that sucked about the bite being slow healing, is the fact it still bled and was still infected. You needed to get treated, but that came at a cost that wasn’t worth it. 

You quickly and quietly slipped out the same way you came in, darting into the overgrown nature the world was now, your pistol in hand and knife strapped at your thigh. 

**3 HOURS BEFORE**

“Are you being serious right now?” Jay scoffed, staring down at Heeseung as his hands, and parts of his face were stained red. 

Heeseung smirked as he looked up at his younger friend, “Obviously.” he chuckled, “We are in the zombie apocalypse, If I want to dye my hair red, I will dye my hair red.” 

Jay stared down at the hair supplies surrounding Heeseung on the floor, “Where the fuck did you even find all this?” 

Heeseung shrugged, “I found them a couple of months back the last time we left the zone. Only just now decided to put them to use.” 

Sunghoon let out a low laugh. He was sitting at the kitchen table with an old Polaroid camera in his hands. The old thing was broken, but that didn’t stop Sunghoon from wanting to fix it and use it, “You’d think being in the zombie apocalypse, dying your hair would be the last thing on your mind.” 

Jake agreed, “We should be stealing supplies that are needed.” 

“And this was needed!” Heeseung rolled his eyes, “Who says fashion had to die with the world?” 

Jay always loved how positive his older friend was. How unaffected he was by this fucked up world. But with the way his world came to an end, Heeseung kind of had no choice but to grin and bear it. To shove the past away and live in the now and for the future. Also being the oldest and taking up that mantle to be the sole source of happiness and good vibes for the group, he was better than the rest of the boys living in this cabin. 

Jay knelt down beside Heeseung on the floor, eyes wandering between all the supplies, “Damn you used up all the red.” 

Heeseung just smiled, “Want me to dye your hair?” 

Jay lifts his hand to run it through his black hair, debating if it even would be worth it. It would add some fun to his life. But ultimately he declined, “We are going out.” 

Jake groaned, and flopped himself down onto his bed, “Are we seriously sneaking out tonight?” 

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, draping his arm over the back, “What are we smuggling out?” 

Jay shook his head, “It’s what we are going to smuggle in.” 

Heeseung kept his eyes pointed at the small square mirror he had propped up against a bike of old books on the floor as he continued to run his red dye-stained hands through his hair, “What could we possibly be smuggling in?” 

“Drugs, obviously,” Jake said, rolling onto his stomach, “What else could we smuggle into the zone that isn’t allowed to be here?” 

Jay shrugged, “I got a tip that a building about an hour south from here, someone from a neighboring safe zone dropped the drugs off there. We smuggle that in and sell that shit, we’d have enough money to last us for months.” 

“And who the fuck tipped you off?” Sunghoon scoffed, hands going back to fiddling with his camera. 

“I swear to god if you say Yeonjun,” Heeseung said with a click of his tongue, “Man is higher than a kite half the damn time.” 

Jay just smiles, “Nah, it wasn’t from Yeonjun or his crew.” 

“Then who?” Jake asked with pure confusion on his face. 

“Probably Jungkook,” Sunghoon guessed, “He’s the only other person who would care enough about smuggling drugs into the zone. He probably got someone in the jail to run their mouths to even pass on this information.” 

Jungkook was one of the local police officers in this safe zone. He wasn’t a dirty cop or anything, he just understood that sometimes people need a getaway. That getaway is either hard-core drugs, or even the lesser ones. Ones that either get you fucked up, or higher than a kite like Yeonjun is half the time. Either way, Jungkook allowed these four to sneak in and out of the zone as they pleased as long as they didn't get caught or bitten. Because once they got caught, Jungkook would hold no power to protect them. 

Jay just nodded and stood up, “We leave in an hour. Like I said, it would take us an hour to get to where we need to go.” 

“Oh, good!” Heeseung cooed, “That gives us plenty of time to bleach your hair.” 

Jay scrunched his nose, looking at the box of hair bleach sitting beside Heeseung. 

“There’s a pretty cool blonde color you can use, I sure as hell won’t use it.” 

Jay rolled his eyes and sat down beside his friend, “Make it quick.” 

**10 MINUTES BEFORE**

Jay, Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon all carefully walked into the small village that is said to have the drugs. 

Each of the boys kept their eyes open for the building that was described to them, guns locked and loaded and ready to fire in case of any trouble. 

The moonlight and the few shitty street lamps that still somehow worked were the only source of light they had to light the village. 

It was quiet, a bit too quiet for Jay’s liking but a blessing nevertheless. The last thing he needed was having to actually fire their weapons and alert any zombies their way. 

“Where the fuck is this building,” Jake softly snapped, “I do not like being out here.” 

“That makes two of us,” Heeseung agreed, “I don’t like the vibes here.” 

Most of the world has been overgrown with grass, plants, vines, etc etc etc. Each city or town or village outside the safe zones wouldn’t be well kept and taken care of. But this place? The grass was cut. Only a select few houses and buildings had vines covering them. Someone or a few people were taking care of this place. Jay could only imagine it was whoever dropped the drugs off here. Or so he hoped. 

You also found the small village, taking a mental note of how clean it was when it shouldn’t be. You didn’t like it, but you needed to eat, clean your bite, and sleep. This place would have to do until the sun comes up. 

Most of the houses or buildings were locked or covered in vines, and since the undead stalked around more freely at night, you didn’t want to risk breaking a door or window and settled for finding one that was already broken into. 

You found your way into a building where the door was barely holding onto its hinges. You walked in, seeing that it used to be an old convenience store that was yet to be raided. 

Your heart quickened at the sight, wasting no time to pile what food, medicines, and other supplies you could into your backpack. It was like you hit the jackpot, your luck showing off. 

Your luck brought you an old tin box sitting on a small shelf under the register (that unfortunately had zero money in it). You gently shook the box, hearing what sounded like a plastic bag shifting about. After opening the lid, your eyes widened at the contents.

Drugs. Hard ones. Ones that would knock you on your ass and get you high as fuck. You dug through the plastic bag, seeing some of the drugs were for pain in high dosages, which was perfect for your bitten arm. God damn were you lucky. 

You shoved the tin into your backpack, ready to find a place to sleep when a noise coming from the back of the store jolted you to a stop. Your heartbeat quickened and your breathing became unsteady. Your hand on your pistol tightened, shaking as you quietly walked towards the back. You prayed and prayed it was just some animal, or the wind blowing through the broken windows. 

You turned the corner towards the bathrooms, only to be met face-to-face with an undead monster. 

The thing hissed and groaned as it saw you, lunging forward, arms stretched out and drool dripping from its opened mouth. The smell of rotting flesh was enough to make you want to toss up everything you’d eaten that day. You only had enough time to take a few steps back before tripping over your own feet falling completely on your ass. 

You haven’t felt fear like this since you and your old team members got cornered. The flashbacks of watching your friends get eaten and torn about filled your brain. You started to panic, thinking this was it until that sparkle of hope filled you once again. You raised your pistol up, aiming at the zombie's head, and pulled the trigger twice. 

“Please tell me you all heard that too,” Heeseung whispered, the sounds of a gun being fired echoed across the village. 

“Yeah,” Jay took a deep breath in, “I heard it too.” 

The boys quickly went in the direction of the sound, eyes glancing in every direction to keep watch of any trouble until they found the building they were looking for and found something they weren’t expecting to find—you.  

You barely got to your feet and turned around when the four men approached you, shotguns aiming directly at you. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

And that’s how you all ended up here, guns pointing at each other with every intent to kill. 

“She’s been fucking bit!!” Heeseung snapped, all four of the boys' weapons locking back into place pointing at you. 

“Shit,” Jay hissed. 

You lowered your pistol back at Jay, gritting your teeth, “It’s not what you think.” 

“Like hell it is!!” Sunghoon yelled, “I should put a few rounds into you right now!” 

Jay couldn’t explain it, but something felt off about this, about you. Your wrap was soaked in blood, but you can clearly see the blood has darkened in some areas of the wrap. Usually, a person who has been bitten turns within twenty-four hours. Your wound looks older than that. 

You whipped your weapon back to vampire fang, narrowing your eyes, “Shoot me and I’ll sure as hell make sure to get some rounds into you too.” 

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung sternly said, “Stand down.” 

Sunghoon locked his jaw and took a few steps back. Heeseung noticed it as well. The longer he stared at you, the more he could tell your bite looked too old. 

“Hoon, Jake,” Jay said, barely turning his head to look at the younger too, keeping his weapon pointed at you, “Go find what we came here for so we can leave, I don’t want to stick around long enough to find out if she has more friends here.” 

The younger too nodded, slowly backing away and then turning on their heels, running in different directions to find what they came here for. 

Heeseung and Jay kept their eyes on you. You knew once they got whatever they came for they would leave you here or kill you. 

You preferred the first option. 

“Fuck!” Jake yelled, finding the whole place empty, “Nothing is here!” 

Heeseung and Jay narrowed their eyes at you, you could read it all over their faces that they came here for what you found and shoved into your backpack. 

“Fucking bitch, plan to take those drugs to knock your ass out while you change? Maybe kill yourself in the process?” 

You showed your teeth, “What is it to you?” You snapped, “I found it first, fuck off!” 

Jay took a step closer to you, and you took two back, “We have a lot—and I mean a lot—of money riding on those drugs, hand them over before I kill you and take them myself.” 

“Might as well just kill her,” Heeseung scoffed, “It’ll be a blessing compared to what she’ll feel once the change takes over.” 

“It's not what you think!” you yelled again. 

Heeseung wasn’t listening, not really caring either. He’s had enough. They needed those drugs, needed that money to keep his brothers alive. So he stepped toward you quickly, sliding his shotgun tied to the strap behind his back, one hand gripping your wrists and the other at your backpack. 

He was too quick for you to process or make a move. It was obvious at the way your pistol left your hands and was kicked to the blonde, the way his knee bent into the back of yours buckling you to the ground, that his man had done this plenty of times. Has been in plenty of fights and probably killed multiple people. 

But you’d be damned if you were going to go down this easy. 

You slammed your weight to your back, to knock his hand off your backpack, then moved to the left, putting all your force into his side to push him off you. But his grip on your left wrist was unrelenting, his fingers held just above your wrap, slowly sliding it off. 

You managed to get him off you, sending him to his ass. You quickly stood to your feet, only to be met with your pistol touching your forehead, the blonde's eyes like fire burning into you. Jake and Sunghoon standing back behind him, pointing their guns at you again. 

“Heeseung,” Jay said, “You good buddy?” 

Your eyes darted to the redhead, watching as he stood up, eyes piercing. 

You looked back at the man in front of you, raising your hands back up, “Take the fucking drugs, this shit ain’t worth it.” It really wasn’t worth it. Even if you got away these four would chase you down until they got the box and killed you. You needed to survive for the sake of the friends you’ve lost. 

You kept your eyes locked with the blonde as Heeseung was now at your back, digging into it to pull out the tin box.  

Jay was about to pull away when his eyes darted back to your wrist, seeing the bite. Without thinking his free hand gripped your bitten wrist and pulled it forward, lowering the pistol to lift your sleep up higher. 

“Shit,” he hissed, “Guys, come look at this.” 

You were now surrounded by the four of them looking at your wound, every single one of their eyes widening. 

You also glanced down at your bite, it was obvious it was infected from it not being taken care of, but it was healing. And it was obvious that it was. 

“You’re immune?” The redhead said, his eyes now lifting to examine your face, “How is that possible?” 

Jay locked eyes with you again, then with his friends, “What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” 

—

Sneaking out of the safe zone with four people is one thing. But sneaking back in with four people while SMUGGLING another life and illegal drugs is another. 

The safe zone might be one of the biggest in the world, but everyone knows who Jay, Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon are. So with you standing in the middle of the four as you all climbed up through a hole that leads into an abandoned broken-down home and the face of a military officer staring back at you, your heart sank. And the looks of the four boys around you were evidence enough that you all just got caught. 

“What the actual fuck is going on?!” the officer snapped, his eyes filled with such a fire that I made you want to duck under the boys and back down to the hole and escape into the free world. 

“Jungkook,” Heeseung said, raising his hands up, letting his shotgun dangle from his chest, “Listen, man, we didn’t plan this either.” 

“You know they keep count of every mother fucker in this safe zone!” Jungkook snapped

“We know!” Heeseung snapped back, “But you’re going to want to see this.” 

Heeseung whips around to you, reaching his hand out for you to take it, nodding his head to move closer to him, “Come here, YN.” 

You glare at him, shaking your head. You still didn’t trust these four boys, why would you willingly hand over your secret to a military officer? 

Jake nudged you forward, stumbling over your feet and reaching for Heeseung’s hand anyway. 

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest and it made your heart sink even more. The man was BUFF. His big strong arms flexed naturally and the tattoos that ran from his hand and up his right arm made him seem even more scary, like this man could snap your neck without breaking a sweat. 

Heeseung barely lifted your sleeve up to expose your bite and Jungkook was five steps back with his pistol drawn out towards you. 

What’s with everyone pointing guns at you today?

“You brought an INFECTED here?!” he yelled, the hell fire burning in his eyes raging more, “I should kill each of you right now for bringing her here.” 

Heeseung rolled his eyes and pulled your sleeve up further, “Fucking look!” 

Jungkook stared down at your arm, his gun slowly falling to the floor, “How can that be possible?” 

A question for you. 

You just looked down at the bite, shaking your head, “I don’t know.” 

Jungkook silently looked between you all, “Fuck!” 

He shoved his pistol back into the holster at his hip and paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. 

“Get her back to the house, NOW!” he growled, pointing a finger at all four of them one by one, “Do not let anyone see her, you understand?” They all nodded, “Good, and make sure she fucking bathes and gets that wound cleaned up and wrapped. I’ll come by when I get my head straight.” 

You now walked even closer in between the four boys than what you were earlier, wandering your eyes to every person you walked passed, scared you’d be discovered. That feeling eased up a bit as they led you down an alleyway, then across another street before quickly shuffling you inside what you assumed was their home. 

Once the door was closed and deadbolted, you scanned their home. It was small, but big enough to house the four of them. 

There weren’t any rooms, so their four beds lined up against the west side of the house, with a couch across from it with a small table and a radio beside it. 

Their kitchen on the east side of the house was also small, fitting enough space for the normal kitchen essentials and a table for eating in the middle, a bathtub sitting in the corner. 

You were scared for a second about how these four use the bathroom but noticed outside the kitchen window an outhouse. 

“This used to be a storage house,” Jake said, dropping his body onto the couch, “The four of us fixed it up and made it our home. It’s not much, but it’s something.” 

It was definitely better than the places you’ve been sleeping in recently. 

Jay was now handing you a clean pair of clothes, “Wear these after you bathe, we’ll find you some that fit better tomorrow.” 

You thanked him and walked to the tub, dropping your backpack into a chair at the table. You stared at the tub with excitement. You’ve been without a proper bath since being bitten and the thought of getting a warm bath made your heart sink. 

You turned the hot water knob, watching as the clean water flowed into the tub. Most safe zones were lucky if they had clean running water and basically electricity. The bigger zones obviously are the luckier ones. Yours, on the other hand, had no electricity and water was so scarce there were designated days when people were allowed to bathe. 

Without another thought, your hands went to the hems of your shirt and slowly started lifting. 

“Woah woah what the fuck are you doing?!?” Sunghoon snapped, his heart racing at the sight of barely seeing your belly. 

“I’m fixing to bathe? I stink?” 

“And you are just going to strip in front of us?!?” Jake said, the clear blush settling in on his cheeks. 

You scoffed, letting out a laugh, “The world is ending as we know it and you’re worried about seeing a female naked? Shouldn’t you be glad to see it?” 

Jake sat in silence, his eyes now wandering to Heeseung and Jay, who kept their eyes on you, their reactions haven't changed since you first met them. 

“Well, I’m not about to be labeled as a pervert,” Sunghoon said, rushing back to the front door, “I’m going to sit outside.” 

“Yeah same here,” Jake jumped from the couch, following his best friend out. 

Heeseung finally looked at Jay, who was already staring back at him. 

You watched as their eyes communicated with each other in a silent language that you didn’t know. Then with a nod Heeseung turned and followed Jake out, closing the door behind him. 

Jay’s eyes were back on you, his facial expression still not changing. 

“What? Not going to follow your friends out?” 

He shrugged, “Someone has to make sure you don’t steal our shit and make a run for it.” 

You glared at him and scoffed, “I survived for months with less than what you have here, my safe zone didn’t have anything and I made it perfectly fine even after I was bit and couldn’t return back. I have no need for your stuff.” 

Which was true. You survived perfectly fine without the gifts the bigger safe zones had. And then with you having to hunt for your food and survive on less than your safe zone. You didn’t need his shit. You were perfectly fine. 

Jay just shrugged again, crossing his arms behind him as he kept his eyes on you. And you took it as a challenge. 

You slid your shirt from your body and let it hit the floor, keeping eye contact with him as your fingers went to your jeans, unbuttoning and dropping them to your ankles. 

Jay was completely unfazed as he looked at you with nothing but your sports bra and panties on. He was more focused on the scars that covered both your arms. 

“What are those from?” he asked. You already knew where his eyes were looking. 

“Happened the same day I was bitten,” you said, now looping your fingers into your sports bra and pulling it over your head, “I had to jump through a window before I got killed by our lovely undead friends outside the safe zone.” 

Jay wanted to ask about how you even got into the situation that led to getting bitten and jumping through a window. Shit had to have been rough. 

Jay continued looking over your body, eyes stopping at your breasts and then back up to your eyes. You smirked at him, “Not going to turn around?” 

He once again shrugged, “Like you said, I have bigger things to worry about than seeing a naked woman in front of me.” 

You quickly scanned him up and down, not seeing any signs that your almost completely naked body was affecting him, “Does it not bother you?” 

“It’s just skin, YN.” 

Fair enough. 

You dropped your panties to the floor and climbed into the tub, stinking your body in completely, letting the hot water fill you with warmth for a few seconds before turning the knob to stop the flow of water. 

Jay watched you relax, watched as your hands rubbed up and down your scarred arms. He wanted to press more about them, to ask how it was possible you even survived whatever happened, mostly with how your bite is clearly infected from not being taken care of properly. 

“Are you going to keep staring at me or what??” 

“Would you rather I sit down and whip my dick out?” he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Fucking prick,” you scowled. 

“Don’t ask stupid fucking questions then.” 

“We just met and you’ve already seen me naked and it had no effect on you yet you keep staring at me. I think I deserve to ask the “stupid” questions.” 

You just stared back at him, trying to read his face but getting nothing. 

To be honest, sex was the last thing on Jay’s mind. He’s been through way too much bullshit to let some random woman and her cunt affect him that easily. It’s not even that he was disinterested in sex, he had plenty of women around the safe zone that would drop to their knees so fast for him. Plenty of women he’s taken to his bed and pleasured them all night long. But sex wasn’t something he needed to survive like how so many other people in safe zones act like and turn to in a way to forget that the world went to shit. Jay couldn’t afford to let that happen with him. 

Plus Jay didn’t even know you and wasn’t some asshole to force you into sex with him all because you stripped in front of him. 

You eventually looked away from him, giving up on trying to read him, “Can I have a washcloth and soap?” 

Jay walked to one of the cabinets, pulled out a new bar of soap, a washcloth, and some old shampoo, and then handed them all to you, you mumbled out a thanks. 

You all of a sudden felt guilty, thinking maybe Jay possibly had a girlfriend or even a wife and you just bared yourself to him. But then wiped that thought off the table, there was no way. Because if he did he would be with them, not some smuggler. Then another thought came into your head and it was so simple: maybe he just didn’t find you attractive. 

You felt your self-esteem plummet and any confidence you had was out the window. You already figured you had a fair body, curvy hips, and busty breasts. The boy back home you used to fuck around with was always finding ways to bend you over. It boosted your ego, but maybe it boosted it too high if some random stranger’s dick didn’t get hard at the sight of you stripping in front of him. 

Jay read your expressions like a book, getting more confused than anything at why you’d let what he thinks affect you. You clearly were strong-willed and a survivor, already proving enough that you didn’t need the fancy things to keep surviving. So why let those small stupid thoughts affect you that way? 

Jay went to confront you, but the knocking at the door pulled him back, turning his head slightly to listen, “Jungkook is here,” Heeseung called from the other side of the door. 

Jay looked back at you, “You can go deal with whatever that is,” you said as you ran the washcloth over your arms, “I promise I won’t steal anything or go anywhere. Don’t know my way around this zone anyways.” 

Which was true, you were so focused on not being seen that you wouldn’t remember the way to sneak out. 

Jay just nodded, turning around and heading for the door, “Just so you know,” he said stopping at the door, “I might seem like a pervert for saying it, but you do have a sexy body, and don’t let anyone tell you differently or make you think differently. Don’t take it not affecting me personally, I truly have more important things to worry about than getting laid.”  

Then he slipped out the door, leaving you alone in the house. 

Jungkook stood on the grass with his hands on his hips, eyes wandering everywhere, making sure no one else was about to hear what he was fixing to speak about. 

“What’s up?” Jay asked, standing beside Heeseung. 

“Her bite mark,” Jungkook started, “It looks about a month old, ya?” 

All four men nodded, “It’s what she told us too, on the way here,” Jake said, “Don’t know how true that could be though.” 

“There’s been some rumors—strictly just rumors—that there’s been a few others that have been found immune,” Jungkook said barely above a whisper, his eyes continuing to dart around the area. 

“How is that possible?” Heeseung asked, “Three years and there has yet to be a cure to stop this madness and now you’re telling me there are others like her that are immune?” 

“There were others like her,” Jungkook sighed, “They either were killed before they got to the capital or killed themselves before being taken there. But again, it’s baseless rumors. No proof, until her.” 

Sunghoon scoffed, “Can we please get to the point of all this?” 

“Hoon,” Heeseung said with a warning. 

“I contacted the capital and told them we found an immune,” The four men stood in silence, staring at Jungkook, not knowing what to say or expect next, “So,” Jungkook was smirking now, “I have a job for you four.” 

Jake chuckled, “You’re fucking crazy, man.”

Jungkook shot him a warning look, a silent reminder of who he was and what his rank was, “At least hear my offer first before calling me crazy,” Jake crossed his arms and waited for Jungkook to continue, “One million. Each. If you drag her across the country to the capital.” 

One million. Each. That’s four million dollars. They would be fucking set, no longer having to worry about fighting for money to buy food and survive. No longer having to leave the safe zone to smuggle shit in and out for money. They would be safe to finally just live. But the problem lies in the trip. And that trip wasn’t worth it. 

“Nah,” Jake laughed, “You got me fucked up. I am a smuggler, not an escort. Make the government come pick her ass up. Not my circus, not my monkeys.” 

Everyone’s eyes were back on Jungkook. He shrugged, “They have other things to worry about besides making that trip to pick up one individual. Plus it would make a scene if they flew in here and just took her. It would make it obvious that there are immune in this world. It would cause a panic, give the people false hope for a cure.” 

Jay watched as each of his friends shook their heads, saying how it wasn’t worth it to drag a stranger across the fucking country to hand you over just for the possibility of a cure being found. 

They all talked over each other, Jungkook trying to convince them with all the money they would have, and the three others not accepting it. 

“Fucking hell, I’ll go alone,” Jay said without even realizing he was opening his mouth. 

“Jay, no!” Heeseung snapped, “That bitch ain’t worth it! We stick to our normal jobs!” 

Jay looks at Jungkook, “If I take her alone will we still get four million total?” Jungkook nodded, and that’s all Jay needed. 

“You’re fucking stupid, man!” Sunghoon hissed, “What are you thinking?!” 

“That we would be fucking set and not have to beg ever again for food or work our asses off in this stupid prison for money and food. To never have to worry about stepping foot outside this zone. To remain safe,” Jay didn’t realize he was holding his breath as he said that, taking a massive inhale in and clenching his fingers against his biceps, “When would we leave?” 

“Tomorrow night, It’ll give me enough time to let the capital know you accepted their offer and to gather enough weapons and materials for your journey.” 

Jay just nodded, “I am doing this, and you can’t stop me.” 

Heeseung gritted his teeth, “And what if they kill her the moment you hand her over?” 

Jay just shrugs, “Not my circus, not my monkeys. But at least we’ll have four million dollars.” 

—

You covered your hands over your ears, closing your eyes tightly. Your breathing was uneven as you heard your heartbeat in your ears, Jay’s voice was muffled and drowning out of the sound of your heartbeat and the screams of the undead surrounding the area. 

“YN!!” he said loud enough for you to hear him but quiet enough for the undead to not hear him, “YN, calm down!” 

You couldn’t hear him, you just knew he was speaking to you. The memories of being cornered in the building resurfaced. The sounds of your friends screaming, the smells of the dead, and the blood dripping from everyone. The visions of you feeling your best friend being ripped away from you. Everything was replying over and over. 

You started to hyperventilate, your every breath loud enough to draw the undead in your and Jay’s direction. 

Jay grabbed both of your wrists, trying to pull them from your ears, him repeating your name over and over again but nothing worked. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, taking a look around. The two of you were in a safe enough spot that the zombies wouldn’t be able to reach you, but once they found where you both were hiding…it was over. 

Jay placed his hands on top of yours, “YN, look at me.” But you didn’t respond, your breathing getting worse as the time ticked by. 

He was running out of ways to calm you down and get you to be quiet. His heart was racing faster as fear was overtaking him and his options running low. 

Jay slides his hands to your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing over the back of your hands at your ears. Without another thought, he moved forward. 

**A WEEK BEFORE**

Jay forced you to get as much rest as possible to be awake enough for the start of the journey to the capital. 

Jungkook said it would be a five-month walk there if everything went smoothly and no hiccups on the road on the way there. Or ya know, the two of you don’t get killed. 

The moment Jungkook knocked on the door to the house, Heeseung quickly answered, swinging the door open to let him slip in before anyone could see. 

He carried two backpacks filled with food, medicine, and weapons and ammunition. 

“This should last you both the five-month journey,” He said, pushing his tongue into the side of his cheek, “That's if you ration the food and the ammunition. Just don’t put yourselves into situations to have to use too much.” 

Jay scoffed, sliding the backpack onto his shoulders, “Don’t you know who you’re talking to?” 

Jungkook chuckled, pulling him into a quick hug, “Safe travels.”

Jungkook didn’t say another word as he darted out of the house, Heeseung closing and locking the door behind him. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Jake said with a shake of his head, “There’s no need to do this. We’ve survived perfectly fine before.” 

Jay has been weighing out his options ever since agreeing to do this. Always leaning toward taking this trip. He didn’t want to watch his brothers suffer anymore. Yeah they all weren’t struggling, but they would be so much better off once that money was in his hands. 

The amount of food they would have to fill their bellies, not having to worry about rationing. Not having to shove money away just to save up for the food, more clothes, and the other bills this safe zone forced on the residents here. They wouldn’t have to smuggle ever again. Jungkook could get off their backs about certain jobs. They would be free. 

“I have to do this,” Jay breathes, “I want to do this.” 

And hey, who knows? Maybe giving her off to the capital will make a cure and the world could be saved. Maybe. 

Sunghoon pulls Jay’s shotgun from the hidden closet, “Just don’t do anything stupid, ya?” 

Jay chuckled, “I’ll leave the stupid here with you three.” 

Everyone laughed but you and Heeseung, who stood at the door still and leaning against the wall, arms crossed and his face filled with worry. 

You have only known these guys for a short time, but you can tell each of them rely on each other for everything. Whatever terrible things these four had to endure before the outbreak and even after…they became family. Inseparable. Bonded for the rest of their lives. 

Jay pulled the younger two into hugs, saying how he’ll be back within a year. 

Heeseung pushed himself off the wall, dropping his arms to pull Jay into a hug, the older locking his jaw when he looked at you, “You come back in one piece, got it!”

Jay rolled his eyes, “You know I will Hee.” 

Heeseung pulled away, finally looking away from you, “She better be worth all this fucking trouble,” he whispers, eyes quickly darting to you to see you adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, “What will you do if they actually kill her the moment you get there?” 

Jay just shrugs, “Not my problem once the money is in my hands.” 

Heeseung sighs, “She’s still a human being. I can only imagine how life has been since finding out she was immune.” 

Jay tilted his head back to look at you, to look at the wrap that barely stuck out of your long-sleeve shirt. “She probably has been through hell to keep it a secret.” 

You look back up at them, “Ready to go yet or are you two going to make out before we leave?” 

Heeseung rolled his eyes, “Good luck with that attitude man,” 

Jay sighed, “Yeah. I’ll need it.” 

It didn’t take the two of you long to leave the house and quickly and quietly make your way back to the same tunnels and escape route you used to get into the safe zone. 

Jay helped pull you out of the manhole then kicked the metal plate back over it and locked it tightly. 

He swung his shotgun from his back to his front, positioning his hands in the right places before walking ahead of you, “Come on, let’s get this over with Miss Immune.” 

You snarl at him but follow behind anyway. 

This was the last thing you wanted to happen. To be turned into the capital. To be used as some experiment and plaything for scientists to gock over. 

“Might as well just kill me and get it over with,” you scoffed, keeping your eyes on the ground, stepping over everything Jay was, “They will just kill me eventually.” 

Jay shrugged, “You’re worth four million to them, they can do whatever they want after they have you in their hands.” 

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, “Did your mother ever teach you how to treat a lady?” 

He chuckles, “My manners went out the window the moment you pointed a gun at my head.” 

You glared at the back of his head, “Says the one that surrounded me with four shotguns and then pointed my pistol directly to my forehead.”

Jay said nothing in return and kept walking forward. Eventually slinging his gun back around his back, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Neither of you spoke for hours as the night pressed on. The woods were quiet, a bit too quiet for your liking and the only thing making you feel at ease was the fact Jay kept his gun resting on his back and hands shoved into his pockets. He obviously knew these woods better than you. He was a smuggler, after all. 

Even after all the sleep you received back at the house, drowsiness found you anyway. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, “Can we find somewhere to sleep?” 

Jay didn’t realize how tired he was either until after hearing your voice, a yawn escaping his lips as well, “There’s a small shed we’ve used when our smuggling routes take a couple of days, we can stop there to eat and sleep.”

“How far is it?” you asked, not knowing how much longer you could actually go. 

Jay looks at the surrounding area before he answers, “About another hour.” 

You groaned but accepted it. Soon enough the small shed came into view. It was overgrown with vines and weeds but still stood strong. 

Sleep hit you the minute you dropped into the dusty cot, not caring enough to clean it. Jay did the same. 

The moment the sun started to shine through the shed, Jay woke you up and started the journey again. 

The whole day passed in silence, only speaking when spoken to and only stopping for food, bathroom breaks, and to rest. 

A week has passed when the two of you approach an old factory building. A long chain-linked fence surrounded the area. 

“Shit,” Jay scoffed, “We’ll have to cut through.” 

“Can’t just, like you know, go around?” it was such a simple question, yet Jay looked at you as if you asked the stupidest question in the world, “Fine!” you snapped, holding your hands up in defense, “You’re the one who knows better, right?” 

“We’d waste time going around,” Jay locks his fingers around the holes of the fence, “Every second counts, plus this place might have materials we can gather.” 

And there he goes, climbing up and over the fence, carefully dropping himself back to the ground and turning to face you, “Well?” he raised a brow, “Get your ass moving.” 

You roll your eyes and attach your fingers and toes of your boots in the loops, lifting yourself up, crawling to the top, and swinging your leg over the top, “Catch me?” 

Jay narrowed his eyes, “You survived by yourself for god knows how long before meeting me, and now you’re acting like you need help?” 

“I’m scared of heights,” 

“You’re fucking joking.” 

You smile, clearly loving how he reacts to your teasing, “Yeah I’m fucking with you,” you dropped down to the ground, Jay’s hands quickly resting on your shoulders to keep you from losing balance, “Learn to live a little, okay?” 

His glare was unrelenting as you walked past him, “I lived plenty before the world ended.” 

You watched as he hurried past you, wanting to ask what he meant. To know some part of how he was before the world went to utter shit. You were stuck with him for five months, might as well get to actually know him, right? 

You opened your mouth to ask him, only to be met with his hands now on you. One covering your mouth and the other pulling you to his chest, backing the both of you up against a truck, “Keep quiet, we have company.” 

Your eyes wander to where he was looking, seeing the few undead friends that lurked around the entrance to the factory. 

You pulled his hand from your mouth, catching your breath and assessing what to do. 

“We need to find a way around without alerting them.” 

“I already know that, YN,” he whispers, “The question is how.” 

Jay searched the area, pinpointing every safe spot that led to the door. 

“Okay,” he released you from his grip, “Stay on my ass.” 

You followed on his heels, holding your breath the entire way until his hands touched the handle of the factory door and pushed it open. 

You glanced around at your undead friends who stalked around, their bodies bunched over as they slowly dragged their feet with each step they took, grunts leaving their mouths. 

Jay peaked into the factory, the only light showing was from the windows, barely giving off enough light for him to confirm the opening at least, was clear. 

He carefully and quickly slid between the doors, reaching back out to pull you in behind him, closing the door and locking it for extra protection. 

You both took in the factory. It was a complete mess. Tables, papers, machinery, torn clothes, and everything in between covered the floors. The smell of this place was disgusting. The mixture of oils, grease, blood, and dead things—probably both humans, zombie, and animals—filled the air. 

You tried to not throw up your lunch, covering your mouth with your hand, “I don’t like it here.” 

“That makes two of us,” Jay said softly, “Taking a flashlight from his backpack, “Let’s get moving, and keep quiet, we don’t know what’s in here.” 

You followed behind him at a distance, eyes wandering over everything possible, looking for any material that could aid you both. But so far, nothing. Everything was either broken or just couldn’t be used. Nothing of help or a service to either of you. 

Jay had a bad feeling about this place, like whatever happened here was a lot worse than the remnants of this place give off. It was way too quiet to just be abandoned. His gut feeling told him to look for anything—and everything—possible that would stick out. Things that shouldn’t be here. He swallowed hard, flashing his light down to the floor, seeing scratch marks going in every direction, dried blood staining the tile. 

Then it clicked in his head. Everything made sense. 

This whole factory was a trap. 

This place wasn’t abandoned. Not even close. It was purposely left like this to lure in survivors, making them think they found a safe place to hide. Whoever ran this factory obviously wasn’t here, or else something would have already gone wrong. “YN,” he whispers, “This place is a trap.” 

“I know,” you said with a shaky breath. Jay was alerted to the tone of your voice, whipping around to see the tears swelling your eyes. He traced his eyes down, seeing the cord you’ve stepped on, “Something clicked when I stepped on it,” you tried to hold back the tears, to look brave in front of him, to look like a survivor. But you failed, the fear washing over you too quickly, “Jay,” you cried. 

“Shhh, no, hey,” he quickly gets closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Calm down, let me figure out what to do.” 

You nodded, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. Jay lifted his hand and wiped away the tear, cupping your face and tracing his fingers along your jaw as he walked away from you, following where the cord led. It was plugged into one of the machines. He wandered his eyes back to the other end of the core, following it back to your feet, and then continued to where it was plugged into the wall. Jay wasn’t stupid, he knew if he just unplugged the cord it would make the machine react. He and Jake have rigged multiple machines to still set off if unplugged. The only way would be to cut the cord completely. 

Jay knelt to his knees, setting the flashlight to the floor and sliding a folded knife from his pocket, whipping it open. He took a deep breath, counting down from three before folding the cord and cutting it. 

You cry out and drop to your knees, covering your hands over your ears at the ringing alarm that Jay set off. 

“Fuck!” He screamed, quickly standing back to his knees and rushing to you, “We need to fucking go, NOW!” 

Whoever this bastard was that rigged that trap was a damned genius, an absolute asshole, but a genius. To rig a machine to set off an alarm when cut? The more Jay thought about it as he dragged you back up to your feet, the more he realized the alarm would have been set off either way. Cutting the power in either way would have set the alarm off. 

The two of you barely took a few steps when the sounds of the undead surrounded the factory outside, because, of course, it would. That damn alarm just alerted whatever was outside—and inside—this factory. He needed to get that alarm off, and now. 

Jay dragged you with him to what looked like the office of the building, not wasting time checking for a button or way to turn it off. He whipped the shotgun around and sent bullets into every control panel until the alarm went silent. 

But unfortunately, Jay letting some rounds into the panel only sent whatever dead friends that were in the building to their exact location. 

Jay grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the office, running as fast as he could and praying your legs could keep up with him. This wasn’t the first time he’s had to run from these monsters, or even hide from them. It wasn’t a skill he wanted to mark off his checklist of survival but had no nevertheless. You’ve only had to run from them the night your friends were killed while you fled. Your legs felt like they were led to the memory coming back. 

You started to lose your breath, the fear covering every inch of you as you tried to focus on Jay’s back, on the warmth of his hand wrapped in yours. It worked for a bit as he dragged you down every hallway to find an exit. Worked until you both ran past a door, that just so happened to have zombies crawling inside it, who watched the two of you run back. 

You heard the crack of the door first, Jay heard it the second time. His head whips around to see the wood of the door barely breaking and see them pile out of the room. 

Jay acted fast, shoving you into an office room he prayed was safe. His eyes worked their magic, scanning as quickly as he could and seeing the room was in fact, clear. His hands only left you for a few seconds to close the door carefully, praying they didn’t hear it. But obviously, and because why would they not, heard the shut of the door anyway, alerting them in this direction. 

They ran past, obviously not knowing which room you two snuck into, but their loud groans, hisses, and whales were loud enough to send every zombie on this side of the factory toward this hallway. 

Which is how you ended up here. Back pressed to the wall, hands to your ears as you hyperventilate. 

He was running out of ways to calm you down and get you to be quiet. His heart was racing faster as fear was overtaking him and his options running low. 

Jay slides his hands to your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing over the back of your hands at your ears. Without another thought, he moved forward. 

He connected his lips to yours, taking in every breath you let out. You opened your eyes quickly, seeing him staring back at you. You focused on the brown of his eyes, focused on the way his lips felt against yours. Your heart rate slowed, and the shaking of your hands stopped. It wasn’t even like he was kissing you kissing you, he just held his lips to yours, unmoving. 

You waited for him to pull away, to pull away and tease you for being a scary cat. But he didn’t. 

His eyes slowly closed, quickly removing his lips and connecting them again, pressing his lips harder to yours. You also closed your eyes, kissing him back. Your hands at your ears, slipped down to his wrists, squeezing them tightly as he shifted his hands to the edge of your jaw, fingers gripping the back of your head. 

Jay doesn’t know what came over him, he only planned to kiss you once and have it be long enough to steady out your breathing. But something drew him in and he couldn’t stop. 

Jay licks your bottom lip, waiting for your mouth to open and let him inside. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth as you sucked on the muscle, savoring the taste of him. 

His grip on your face tightens as he softly groans into your mouth, clearly losing himself. Knowing he needed to stop but not being able to. The feel of your lips being addicting. 

You need to stop, you need to stop, you need to stop. 

The sounds of the zombies outside the door faded, the world finally becoming quiet and it was enough to make him stop. 

Jay quickly pushed away from you, sliding himself across the floor and to the other side of the office, completely out of breath. He brought his knees to his chest in hopes of hiding the raging boner in his pants, dropping his face into his palms, then running them through his hair. 

You took a few deep breaths, not taking your eyes off him. 

“We will give it time before leaving, to make sure everything is clear to leave,” he said, doing everything he could to not look at you. 

You nodded as if he could see it anyway. And not another word was spoken. 

—

It’s been two months since he’s kissed you. Two months' worth of him doing everything to not look at you, to not touch you. He barely has been able to even speak to you. Reminding himself over and over again what his true mission was: to hand you over to the capital, get paid, and get his ass back home. Nothing else mattered. 

Nothing. 

You dropped to your knees, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Jay?” he ignored you and kept walking forwards, “Jay!” silence, “ASSHOLE!!!” 

Jay turned around, piercing holes into you with his eyes that were also on fire at you calling him an asshole. At least it finally got his attention. 

“I am tired,” you breathed, wiping the sweat that was already recollected on your forehead. 

“Okay, and?” he said calmly. If it weren’t for the fire burning in his eyes you would have thought he was actually calm. But Jay couldn’t afford to be nice to you, not when he’s fighting every demon within himself to not press his lips against yours again. Not when he has four million dollars waiting for him. 

You glared back at him, “I need rest? We’ve been walking for days straight and only took a couple of breaks to sleep for an hour.” 

“How the fuck did you survive alone for so long?” he questioned, starting to think maybe you just hid the entire time before they found you, “what happened to that attitude when we first met?” 

You stood back to your feet, quickly walking past him and shoving your middle finger in his face, barely grazing his nose, “Want my attitude? Here it is asshat.” 

Jay smirked as he watched you walk ahead of him, eyes without his permission moving from the back of your head down to your hips, watching the way they sway. Jay scoffed at himself, quickly dropping his eyes to the ground and rushing after you, “Smartass, you don’t even know where you are going.” 

You stopped walking, staring straight ahead. 

But Jay didn’t stop, and ran right into you, almost knocking you over completely, his hands quickly grabbing your shoulders. His rage settled in again, “What the fuck! Don’t just stop wa—“ 

“Long time no see, Jay Park.” 

He moved on autopilot, hands rushing to your waist and shoving your behind him in the same motion of wiping his gun from his back to front, finger itching to pull the trigger, “Same to you, Choi Soobin. What are you doing so far out from your zone?” 

The blonde smirked, “Was on a smuggle run, but shouldn’t I be asking you that question, Jay?” 

 A laugh from behind, “Yeah, aren’t you the one who is a little too far from your zone?”

You pulled your pistol from its holster, facing your back to Jay’s and pointing it at a blue-haired man. 

Jay narrowed his eyes, snaking one hand behind him to grab your shirt, pulling you closer to him, back to back, keeping his shotgun aimed at Soobin, “I am also on a smuggling run, Huening Kai, just passing through.” 

“You know,” a voice to his right, “This is our territory, there is just no passing through here.” 

Jay was barely able to glare to his right, seeing Beomgyu pointing a rifle at you and him. 

Then another laugh to the left of him, his eyes darting to see Taehyun walking closer, also pointing his rifle, “Jay, did you really think we wouldn’t have seen you two when you got close to our zone?” 

Jay just chuckled, not because of the fact they were even close to another zone, but because he let themselves get close to another zone. He was so caught up in trying to ignore you and push down his demons that he didn’t realize how close he pulled you both here. But he kept laughing, “What I think is Yeonjun is missing out, isn’t he? My feelings hurt that he isn’t here.” 

Soobin just smiled, “You think my brothers would just leave me behind?” Yeonjun said, finally making his appearance from behind Soobin, “That wounds me.” 

Jay just rolls his eyes, “Are we done here? I have important shit to do.” 

“Like what?” the blonde leader asked, his eyes darting behind Jay to look at you, “What are you smuggling, exactly?” 

You pressed your back harder against Jay’s, feeling his hand tighten at your shirt. 

Soobin just tilts his head, his smile growing wider, “Don’t tell me it’s the girl.” 

Your heart stopped and Jay kept quiet, not having a damn thing to say as a comeback. The only thing on his mind was to protect you, to keep you so close to him that he could fuse with you if possible. 

But Jay knew telling the truth, or well parts of it, was the only way to get around when it came to these five. Jay has dealt with them enough in the past to know how they work, “I’m taking her to the capital.” 

“Jay!” you snapped. 

“Shut up!” was his reply to you, “She’s important to the capital and I have been tasked to get her there. We honestly were just passing through, it’s my bad we got too close.” 

Soobin looked between the eyes of each of his brothers, each of them giving him nods and shrugs, “It’s getting late, don’t want you getting caught up with our…walking dead at night. Stay in our zone for the night.”

Jay wanted to say no, to say they were fine. But the death truth was they were running low on supplies. Needed clean clothes and showers. Your bite mark needed to be cleaned, which is why Jay thinks you’re been more out of it the last few days than normal. He knew you also needed some proper sleep and not being able to find any safe place in days to actually give you that rest killed him, “Fine. We leave at first light.” 

You wanted to protest, turning around completely to yell at him, to reject their offer for him. But all he did was grab your waist and pull you to his side, lowering his gun over to his shoulder and giving you the look of warning to keep your mouth shut. So you didn’t fight him. You needed to stay alive anyway, who knew what would happen to Jay, Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungkook if Jay failed to get you to the capital. And you didn’t want to think about it. So you clung to his side as everyone walked forward, Beomgyu and Taehyun standing at yours and Jay’s side as Kai stayed behind you, and Soobin and Yeonjun leading the way. 

“Where are your three stooges at?” Yeonjun asked, barely turning his head around to smile at Jay, “Not used to seeing you as a lone wolf.” 

You tuned out their conversation, keeping your eyes locked off into the distance, biting your lip to keep from talking. You don't know how Jay knew these five or why they obviously seem to be on bad terms, the last thing you needed to do was open your mouth and make it all worse. 

Huening Kai kept eyeing you and Jay, looking for anything possible to tell him more about what was actually going on with the two of you. Jay isn’t ever by himself without the other three. And Jay isn’t the type of person to smuggle a human, drugs and weapons were more his and his friend's forte, so why did he have you attached to him as if they were going to rip you away from him? 

“Ahhh,” Kai giggled, there’s feelings involved. He kept his eyes wandering, barely glancing over to your arm and back up to your shoulder before tracing them quickly back down, seeing the bandage peeking out from your long sleeve, “Haha! Holy shit guys! She’s been bit.” 

Just as quick as the five of them turned to face the two of you, pointing their weapons, Jay was pulling you to his chest and snapping your pistol from its holster at your hip and pointing it straight ahead at Soobin and Yeonjun. 

“Holy shit is right, man,” Yeonjun laughed, “No fucking wonder you’re out here alone, Jay. Going to the capital, my ass.” 

Fucking Huening Kai.

The grip on your waist tightened, Jay snarling at each of them, “It’s not what you think it is.” 

“Oh? It’s not?” Soobin hissed, his friendly cute persona being replaced with his cool, hard, leader persona, “Give me a reason to not kill you both right fucking now.”

“Because she was hurt,” Jay said quickly, “We’ve been traveling for two months. We had to climb a fence and she got herself caught. That’s it.” 

You could hear how fast Jay’s heart was racing in his chest, how hard his body went the moment Kai opened his mouth. He pushed you even closer to him, leaving no room between the two of you. 

The rage Jay felt course through his body was scaring him. The thoughts he had in his head on the ways he would kill all five of them just by pointing a gun at you. It was scaring him at the things he was willing to do to protect you. Scaring him because he didn’t understand why. 

“What does the capitol want with her then?” Soobin asked, clearly not believing the story, “What’s so special?” 

Jay just shrugged, “Beats me. And nor do I care to know. All I know is I’m getting a fat paycheck for getting her there.” The hurt you felt at his words when his actions towards you right now were the opposite. You felt confused. First, he kisses you the way he did back at the factory, then turns completely cold and now he’s got you pressed to his chest, grip unrelenting as he points your gun at the threat in front of him. Maybe all he really did care about was the money. 

To Jay’s surprise, each of them lowered their weapons, “There’s the Jay I know,” Soobin teased, “Let’s just get back in the zone before the dead decide to get us to join them.” 

Everyone walked in silence the rest of the short walk to the safe zone and to your surprise, they didn’t sneak back into the zone, their military guards just…let them in? You looked up at Jay, him already answering you in a whisper without looking back at you, “This safe zone is full of smugglers and corrupted police, it’s how they survive here. The normal citizens and police don’t know how corrupt it is. They are very very sneaky. It’s one of the most dangerous zones right now.” 

You didn’t answer. Just put your eyes back in front of you as you all entered the zone. Jay pulled you closer to him again, his eyes darting to every person who looked his way, who looked your way. 

“We have one room available for you two to share,” Soobin said pointing at the small building to his left, “We will come by tomorrow to let you back out of the zone. Until then I suggest you stay inside, or at least keep her inside. There are clean clothes and some fruit in there too.” 

They still don’t trust us. 

Jay pulled you along with him, the other five watching as the two of you entered the building. 

“What are you thinking?” Soobin asked Kai, who had his arms wrapped tightly across his chest, blue hair blowing in the wind as he narrowed his eyes at the building. 

“If she wasn’t bitten, then what could be so special that Jay protected her like that? Besides the obvious attraction, he feels. But something is off. The caption doesn't want just anybody, not anyone from this side of the country at least,” Kai took his chin between two fingers and looked up at the dark sky. Picturing the way your bandage was wrapped around your wrist, there was no way you weren’t bitten. It was wrapped in a way to hide what was there, not to cover up some wounds…unless, “She is immune.” 

Jay let you bathe first, him keeping his eye pointed out the window as he popped a grape into his mouth. He didn’t trust the five boys either, not when they stood in a circle in the same exact place, clearly discussing what to do about the two of them, “If you keep staring at them you’ll just give them more reasons to not trust us, we just need to get through the night.” 

Jay looks over at you, seeing the way you dangle your arms over the bathtub, resting your chin on white porcelain, “Neither I nor them trust each other and you’re worth a shit ton of money, I’ll keep him eye on them if I want to,” without another word, he looks back out the window. You sigh and resume your bath then get out and quickly change, letting Jay now soak in the tub. 

You fell asleep faster than you thought and it pissed Jay off. How could you sleep so easily? But the more he looked at your sleeping body, eyes darting to your bite mark, the wound no longer continued to bleed or be filled with pus but now red and irritated. The longer he looked, the more he relaxed, realizing you’ve been through enough shit. You deserved some actual rest. 

Jay couldn’t afford to rest though. He left the room, breaking the doorknob once the door was shut, securing a way no one else could get in to hurt you. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he left the building in search of food and other materials to replenish what you and he had used over the last two months. 

He hated being here. Jay spent enough time over the last couple of years smuggling shit in and out of this place. It’s the main reason why Soobin and his dogs don’t like him and his friends. One major rule of smuggling in this world is to stay out of other smugglers' zones. But hey, if the money was good, Jay and his team did it. 

Jay was barely able to walk away from a stall selling canned food when he ran into Yeonjun, “Was wondering if I’d run into you,” he smiled, folding his hands behind his back, “Should have known you’d be out restocking your supplies.” 

Jay just rolls his eyes, “What do you want? I have sleep to catch.” 

“Hmm,” Yeonjun hummed, following behind Jay, “I want to ask you again about your girl.” 

“She’s not my girl,” Jay hissed, “Just someone I am taking to—“

“I know she’s immune.” 

Jay turned on his heels quickly, pointing a finger into Yeonjun’s face, “Shut the fuck up! Keep your fucking mouth shut!” 

But he only smirked, “So our suspensions are true?” 

“No!” Jay scoffed, dropping his hand, “You can’t just throw around the word immune without it causing chaos, you know this, you dumbass.” 

Yeonjun shrugs, “You’re willing to turn your girlfriend into the capital so easily? When she has a gift everyone would kill to have? She isn’t safe out there.” 

Jay narrowed his eyes, trying to read Yeonjun’s face for any hint of what he was trying to pull. But then it clicked with him. Soobin is the one who usually is the head of the battle. The first to step up and say or do anything. Yeonjun is also attached to Soobin as his second. But the fact Yeonjun is here right now…without Soobin…Jay’s heart nearly stopped. He slowly backed away. They were planning something and Yeonjun was being used as a distraction. 

“You know the capital will kill her, Jay!” he chuckles, “They will kill her the moment you hand her over. Your precious love will die.” 

Jay stopped listening as he made a full sprint back to the room. 

—

Jay didn’t continue breathing until he stepped foot into the room, seeing you sleeping peacefully. 

He took a couple of deep breathes, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself, giving him only a few seconds of deep breathing before pushing off the wall and packing up both backpacks, “YN,” he calls to you, his heart rate increasing with each second longer you stayed here, “YN!!” 

You jolted awake, slowly lifting yourself from the bed and seeing Jay rushing around the room in a hurry, “What?” you barely were able to get the words out without a yawn creeping out afterward. 

“We need to go. Like now.” 

You didn’t like the desperation in his voice, and you sure didn’t like the way he was rushing around to gather all your things into the backpacks. Something was wrong and it made your stomach drop, “Why? What happened?” 

Jay told you about the encounter with Yeonjun, and how he thinks they are planning something, explaining how Soobin and his team work. You didn’t understand it. 

“How are you so sure they are even planning anything?” You asked, now following him around the room as he paced to gather everything, “They let us stay here?” 

Jay stopped pacing, his hands immediately grabbing your face, “They know you’re immune. And they are smugglers, YN. I know how they think. They are going to keep you here and probably sell you to the highest bidder, the thing those people would do to you…” Jay didn’t even want to think about what those nasty people would do. The worst thing is to use you as experiments to find a cure on their own without the capital which will result in killing you, or them using you as their own plaything, forcing you to produce offspring in hopes of more people being born with the immunity. Either way, he wasn’t going to let it happen. 

He couldn’t let them take you from him. Couldn’t let them harm you in any way. He was going crazy just thinking about it all. He stepped away from you, “Get your boots on and quickly.” 

You did as you were told, slipping your feet into the boots and taking your backpack from him as he walked to the door, peeking out the windows before waving you to follow him. Jay already secured an escape route. He’s slipped in and out of this zone enough times to know every escape route possible. 

He kept you tugged tightly to him as you both left the building, quickly slipping into the alleyway. To say you were scared was an understatement. You still didn’t fully understand what was going on, mostly on Jay’s side. He seemed so ready to hand you over for the money, what difference would it make if he just left you here? Why go through the trouble of getting you out of this place? 

“Jay,” you called for him, but he ignored you. Just gripping your arm tighter as he led you in and out and around different buildings and alleyways. Stopping anytime someone walked by or got too close, Jay held his breath every single time as if it would help hide the two of you. But before he knew it, you both were approaching the fence, seeing the hole he and his team has used to get in and out was not patched up, “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. 

Jay ran his hands through his hair, then grabbed your arm again, pulling you down the fence line. Eyes searching for an opening. Every safe zone had one. A little door in the fence that would lead out in case of evacuation. You’d need a military card to get access for it to open, but Jay had ways to break it. 

You both finally reached that door, the keycard scanner blinking green, showing it was working. Jay dropped the backpack to the ground, pulling out some tools. 

“What are you doing??” You whispered, eyes darting to her surrounding area, “What if you set off an alarm like last time?” 

Jay chuckled, “I’ve done this before, the factory was rigged from the start.” It was the first time even talking about the factory. Jay used the screwdriver's flat end to pry open the lid, looking at the series of wires, “Time to get to work.” You watched as he cut wires and replaced them, the little flashing green light turning red, then flashing back to green and the door unlocked and slowly opened, “Magic.” 

You rolled your eyes, “We don’t have time for this.” 

Jay threw the tools back into the backpack, quickly standing up and reaching for your hand. The two of you were barely three steps out of the zone when five figures with tickets pointing directly at you two appeared. Jay flung you behind him, aiming his shotgun at Soobin. 

“Should have known you’d try to escape,” the blonde boy hissed, “Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” 

“I’m NOT letting you keep her here,” Jay barked back. 

Taehyun chuckled, “Why does it matter to you what we would do with her here? Don’t you only care about the money she’s worth?” 

“I don’t see four million dollars in your hands, Kang,” Jay snapped, eyes burning holes into Taehyun’s chest but kept his gun aimed at Soobin, “And since I don’t see the fucking money, we’re leaving.” 

“Just think what the capital would do,” Yeonjun said, “Far worse than her staying safe here.” 

Jay gritted his teeth, “You wouldn’t keep her safe. You’d use her!” 

The smile on Soobin’s face told him everything he needed to know. They were going to use you in any way possible and you weren’t going to survive it and if you did, you wouldn’t be the same. 

The five of them took one step closer and Jay felt like he was about to combust, “Take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot!” He yelled, darting the barrel at each of them. 

“It’s five against one,” Kai teased, taking another few steps forward, “What the fuck are you going—“ 

One moment Kai was standing, the next he was on the ground, blood pooling from his thigh. His hands were quickly covered in his own blood as he put pressure on the wound, his blue hair sticking to his face from the sweat he had just broken out in. Teeth gritting and eyes that could kill were staring right back at Jay. 

Kai’s four friends rushed to him, each of them now looking at Jay as well, “I fucking told you to not take another step. I’ll kill you all if you so much as lay a finger or come near her!!” 

Soobin’s smile was gone and replaced with pure rage, “Get the fuck out of my safe zone before I blow your brains out and feed you to the zombies out there.” 

You locked your jaw, gripping the barrel of Jay’s gun and forcing him to drop it, “Let’s fucking go!!” You snapped at him, fingers gripping the sleeve of his shirt, and pulling him away. 

“You’re going to regret your choices, Jongseong Park!” Huening Kai yelled, his voice echoing into the woods, “ROT IN FUCKING HELL!!” 

Jay stopped listening as he was now the one gripping your waist and leading you into the dark dangerous woods, the sounds of Kai’s screams and yelps becoming a distant noise. 

Once Jay felt like it was safer, he removed his hand from your waist, and quickly walked ahead of you, “What the fuck was that, Jay?” You asked harshly, moving your legs to keep up at his pace. 

“I told them to not take another step, and he did. He’ll suffer for his actions.” Jay didn’t know what you wanted to tell you, he did what he had to to get you out of there and he didn’t care if you agreed or not. 

“You could have killed him!!” Jay just shrugs and keeps on walking. You clenched your fists at your side, digging your fingers into the fabric of your jeans. 

“This is life as a smuggler,” Jay finally said after a few moments of silence, “You sometimes have to pull the trigger to survive.”

“We could have just run out!!” 

“No,” he hissed, “They wouldn’t have allowed that! I did what I had to!” 

“And it was wrong!” 

Jay stopped to turn and face you, the clear desperation and anger still on his face, “I don’t regret doing what needed to be done in order to protect you. I wasn’t going to let those assholes hurt you.” 

You tried to read his face and look for any signs of the truth. There was more to this than him just protecting you for the money. You were filled with more confusion as you looked at him, trying to read his cold eyes, but still found nothing. Jay quickly turned away from you and continued walking. You tried multiple more times to get him to explain his actions, but he kept ignoring you. And you eventually gave up for the night. 

—

To say over the next few days you’ve wanted nothing more than to bash Jay’s skull into the next tree you see would be an understatement. His attitude towards you got worse. He started to ignore you even more and only spoke to you to ask and make sure you were okay, if you were hungry, tired, or needed any rest. Outside of that? It’s like you didn’t exist. 

You tried asking a few times about his actions at the previous safe zone, to see what even prompted him to make such a choice when you could have just run out. The gate was already open, so shooting Kai wasn’t needed to survive. There could have been another way. 

Jay tried to fight off every feeling he felt. Specifically towards you and the other five back at the zone. Half of him wanted to go back and kill them all for so much thinking about using you, the other half of him wished he didn’t have to pull that trigger. He struggled to understand his feelings for you, the protectiveness he felt, the need to hold you close to him and keep you in his eyesight the entire time, the want to kiss you again, to feel your warmth. Everything mixed so deeply within him and confused him. Where did the lines blur? And where did they not? Is he wanting to protect you for that fat paycheck he’ll receive? Or is it because he actually wants to protect you? Does he want to keep you close because he wants to close or because to make sure you’re safe and unharmed once you’re handed off to the capital? Does he want to kiss you again because he hasn’t felt that sort of affection in a while, or because he actually wants to? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Or maybe he just wanted to shove the feelings away. 

Jay was still deep in thought when something wet landed on his face. He stopped walking to glance up at the sky. You also looked up, a sigh leaving his lips, “Looks like it’s fixing to downpour.” 

“We need to get somewhere safe,” you said, looking back at the man in front of you, still trying to read his face. 

Jay just nods, then looks at the surrounding area, “There should be a cave around here. Let's go.” 

You wanted to ask him how he just knows that there is a cave nearby. It makes you question how many smuggling missions he’s gone on. How many times he risked his life out there time and time again? From his attitude and cold demeanor, it’s obvious he’s done this more times than he probably wanted to even count. 

You followed him nonetheless, followed alongside a mountain that eventually a tall chain-linked fence got attached to, leading to a gate that was already opened with vines and grass growing around it. 

“Was this a safe zone?” you asked, “it looks abandoned.” 

“Because it is,” Jay sighs, “It was a smaller one, could only fit a couple hundred. It’s a shame what happened to it.” 

You followed him past the gate and slowly to the hole in the mountain where a massive steel door stood at the entrance of the cave, “What happened?” 

There was a panel on the wall beside the door, showing that it needed a code for the door to open. You were about to lose hope, thinking you’d have to find another place, but Jay reached his hand to the panel, pressing 0428, and the door slowly opened. 

“How do you know the code?” 

“Used to make smuggling runs here when it was still an active zone,” he doesn’t so much even glance at you as he walks inside, “The people who aren’t a part of zones, who are against the government and zones altogether, a band of them came through here, tearing the place apart and left no survivors.” 

Your eyes dropped to the cave floor, “How could humans do such a thing.”

Jay sighs, “I wish I knew. I’m not any better, being a smuggler and doing my fair share of…anyways, what happened to these people, to this zone, it haunted other smaller zones, forcing them to leave and join the bigger ones or flee to the capital.” 

You watched as the cave floor turned from rough stone to polished stone, your eyes lifting back up to take in your sleeping stop for the night. Jay hovered to the right of the wall, finding the power box and flipping the switch. Small lanterns covered the walls and ceiling. Multiple areas of the cave held beds lined to the wall along with showers, tubs, toilets, and kitchen appliances. There were a few areas that were for the children, toys lying on the floor and tables, and some of the beds. 

Children were murdered here. 

You grasped your hand over your chest, feeling how your heart clenched at the sight. 

Jay turns back to look at you, his cold eyes softening, “It was terrible. Heeseung and I got here just in time to see the bandits leave. It took everything for us not to fight them ourselves,” the look in your eyes told him enough how badly this place affected you already.

You took more glances around, “Why does it not look like—“

“Like it was torn apart?” Jay finished for you, dropping his backpack to the floor in front of one of the beds lined to the wall and setting his weapons onto the bed, “Because my team came here and cleaned it up, hoping someday it can be lived in again. We come back every so often to make sure everything is fine and clean.” 

You watched as he sat on the bed, dropping his face into his palms. The rain finally touched down and thunder sounded, the lanterns flickering softly. Jay sighs and quickly stands back up, digging through a drawer to light a couple of candles in case the power does indeed go out. You continued to watch his every move. How can this person be so confusing? So cold and so selfless and full of love all at the same time. You could see it in his eyes how it hurt talking about what happened here. Jay was barely able to sit back down on the bed before you started talking. 

“Why did you shoot Kai?” 

Jay rolled his eyes, “Can you shut up about it? There’s that cold again. 

You shook your head, “No! I need to understand!” 

“What is there to understand, YN? I warned them what would happen if they took a step closer, and look what happened.” Pure rage filled his eyes once again, his jaw locking tight. 

“There had to have been another way! We could have just left!” You took a deep breath, clenching your fists, “You could have killed them!” 

Jay scoffed with a smirk, shaking his head, “I could have, should have.” 

Now you were pissed off, “Why? Huh? Explain that to me. I am NOT worth killing over!” 

Jay shot to his feet, pointing a finger at you, “Don’t you fucking say that! You’re worth—“

“Four million dollars, I fucking get it, Jay. All I am worth is that four million,” he swallowed, not saying a word and he flexed his fists at his sides. It was your turn to scoff and smirk, “Not worth anything more than just to get your damned money.” 

“STOP talking like that,” he snapped. 

“Why should I?” You scoff again, “You’ve done nothing—NOTHING—but tell me and everyone else how much money I am worth. All you fucking care about is the mon—“ 

Jay couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t think straight as his feet dashed to you, hands cupping your face and lips attaching to yours, slamming his body into yours with such force that it startled you. His lips moved quickly against yours, brows furrowing and eyes closed tightly as he was trying his damndest to slow his heart rate, to not take out every emotion he had into kissing you, but his body failed him as he stayed connected to you, your hands slowly reaching up to touch his wrists, and it was enough to send him over the edge. 

“You’re worth so, so, so much more,” he said between kisses, his hands dropping to your waist, “I can’t hold myself back when it comes to you, I want you near me all the time. It’s taken everything in me to not jump your bones every second of every single day.” 

You leaned more into him, accepting him and his truth that he was finally spilling to you after so long. 

“I don’t give a fucking shit about that money, the capital can fucking keep it. You’re worth everything to me and I am so fucking crazy about you.” Jay slid his mouth from yours and down to your neck, leaving small bites as he trailed down to your shoulder, his hands now under your shirt and quickly lifting it up and over your head. Your hands rushed to pull his shirt from him, needing to feel him skin-to-skin. 

You barely had his shirt on the floor when his chest connected to yours and lips back on yours, “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispers, “I can’t stop feeling for you. I want you. All of you. Please give yourself to me.” 

Jay never was able to call someone his own. He’s had girlfriends and flings, yeah, but never someone that was actually his. Someone he could protect and love with every ounce he had. And it took kissing you in that factory for everything to make sense. He met you for a reason, whether that was some wack chance of fate or luck. He was meant to go through the hell he did to find you. And he wasn’t going to let you go now. 

“I’m yours,” you whispered back, “I am all yours.” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. That you longed to feel him kiss you again, to touch you, hold you, and everything in between. He’s driven you crazy since day one, you should have known how hard you would have fallen. 

Jay deepened the kiss even more, slowly pulling you back with him until reaching one of the beds against the wall, one hand reaching back up to your neck, then the other wrapping behind your back as he swiftly turned you around and laid you on your back, “Say it again,” he asked, his fingers tracing down your shoulders, pulling the straps of your bra down then sliding his hands underneath to unclasp it and toss it off to the floor, “say it again please.” 

You swallowed, staring up into his eyes. And for the first time, you were able to finally read him. He wanted you in every way, “I’m yours.” 

He slides his hands down to your jeans, unbuttoning them and looping his fingers between the fabric of both your jeans and panties and your skin and pulling them down, “Again.” 

You bit your button lip and smirked up at him, “Should I?” 

Jay stood on his knees, slowly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, “If you want this dick, I suggest you do.” 

You watch him with lust in your eyes as he slides out of his pants and boxers, his hand wrapping around his cock as he leaned back to hover over you, pumping himself slowly, “I said again.” 

“I am yours.” 

Jay tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, hands going to your thighs and lifting them up, wrapping them around his waist and lining his cock up with your cunt. 

“You’re mine?” he breathes. 

“Yours.” 

Jay slides his hands up your body, clasping his fingers around yours tightly, pushing his hips forward until his cock is buried deep within you, “Mine, all mine,” he whispers into your ear, slowly sliding out and pushing back in. 

His lips kissed down to your neck as he picked up his pace, using your hands pressed into the mattress as his leverage to kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick, grinding into you hard. Your moans sent chills down his spine, edging him to fuck into you faster. God, you felt so good. He only dreamed what your pussy would feel like wrapped around him. It was as if your pussy was made for him, made to fit and take his cock so fucking good. His. All his. 

“Jay,” you moaned out his name, your hands now tangled in his dyed hair as one of his hands grasped your thigh, and the other on your face, “Are you mine, too?” 

“Oh, baby,” he groans into your neck, “I’ve been yours.” 

Thunder crashed outside, flickering the lights a couple of times before shutting them off completely. The candles are the only source of light. But it couldn’t have been more perfect. Yours and Jay’s moans mixed with the sound of the rain. His cock works against your sweet spot and nails dig into the plush of your thighs. He was going dizzy at the feeling of you, of the emotions you’ve made him feel. Your sex felt like heaven, you felt like heaven in this hell. 

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he kisses your neck, “Won’t let anyone touch you,” kisses your jawline, “I’d kill for you,” finally kissing your lips, “You’re mine. All mine.” 

You kissed him back harder, pulling him as close as possible to you as you reached your climax, squeezing your legs tighter around his waist. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, “I’m gonna cum too,” he pumped into you faster, “call me yours, say my name, f-fuck, please say I’m yours.” 

You tightened your legs around him, kissing from his lips to his ear, “Jay, you’re mine. Mine, mine, mine.” 

He clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut as he cums, “Shit, baby,” he slowly lays on top of you gently, breathing in your scent, and wraps his arms underneath you to hold you against him. He took a couple of deep breaths and chuckled, “I am so glad you stole our drugs that day.” 

—

you lay in his arms as he traced his fingers up and down your bare back, the rain still crashing down to the earth, it being the only sound you could hear besides the beating of Jay’s heart in your ear from laying against his chest. 

Jay leaned against the wall the bed connected to, his eyes scanning the empty safe zone, trying to remember how much life was once held here. How life sits here now. Jay let his brain wonder about the different possibilities and outcomes of this zone, debating what to do and how to do it. His train of thought derailed when you shifted yourself up further, laying your head into his neck, “I thought you were asleep?” 

You gently shook your head, “I don’t want to sleep and miss out on this moment.” 

Jay chuckled and leaned his head against the top of yours, “You need some rest, I’m here and won’t leave you.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about, I just want to savor the moment for when you go back to being cold towards me once we leave here.” 

Jay chuckles again, “Baby, I won’t. I was cold to keep the lines from blurring and my heart from feeling, but look how that turned out?” 

You giggled when he slid his hands under the blanket you two shared and squeezed the fat of your ass, “Didn’t think you ever felt anything for me besides the money, you confused the hell out of me, Jay.” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I know, I am sorry.” You shivered, so he pulled the blanket up higher on your naked body, running his hands up and down your back to help warm you. 

Even though you’ve spent enough time with this man to know how he is, you still don’t know a lot about him besides the things he’s willingly shared with you. And since curiosity consumed you, mostly now that he’s accepted his feelings for you, maybe he’ll be more inclined to talk. Here goes nothing, “What did you do before the outbreak?” you softly asked while still treading on eggshells, “How was life for you before it?” 

Jay takes a deep inhale, holding his breath for a couple of seconds before letting it out and wrapping his arms tighter around you, “Heeseung and I were best friends before all this. Grew up together actually. His family lived across the street from mine, and being the only child, I attached myself to Heeseung fairly quickly.” 

You could see it. With how Heeseung and Jay relied on each other back in their home zone and even when they cornered you when you stole the drugs they were supposed to smuggle, the two of them stuck to each other. 

“He became like my older brother, and I am a younger one for him. When the outbreak first happened, Heeseung and I…” he took another deep breath in, and you felt how tense his body became under you. So you reached a hand up to his chest, feeling that tension loosen, “We were fucking around with a few other kids in our town, shooting hoops at the court while passing a blunt between each of us. I was actually supposed to be grounded, I smart-mouthed off to my parents. I stuck out my bedroom window and jumped into Heeseung’s car and we went off to the basketball court. We were there for roughly thirty minutes before the first bomb dropped to take out the infected.” 

You remembered the bombs very well. Remembered the sirens going off. People were going crazy to try and leave town to escape it. Only very few were lucky to get out. And since the two of you were lying here together, it was obvious you two were part of the lucky ones. 

Jay continued, “Heeseung and I never ran back home so fast, only to see our street was completely…gone. We lost our families, and if we didn’t sneak out…we wouldn’t be here right now. The only thing that kept me alive to this very day was Heeseung. If I didn’t have him…” 

“Jay,” you whispered, lifting yourself up to press the side of your face to his, “you have him, don’t think about what could have happened. You have him, and always will.” 

He took a couple of deep breaths, leaning more into you, “I know. I’m lucky to have him as a brother. Same to Jake and Sunghoon.”

“How did you meet those two?” 

Jay laughed, “We found them in an abandoned grocery store.” 

You tried to not giggle, but let it out anyway, “Are you serious?” 

“I am being so deadass,” he laughed more with you, you falling in love with how he smiles and the sound of his laugh. This Jay right here, this was his true self, “It was roughly about four months after the outbreak, so still before the safe zones. Heeseung and I were running low on food and we stumbled into a grocery store praying for food but finding Jake and Sunghoon with every food item possible shoved into the back corner of one of the offices hoarding it all for themselves.”

You just nodded, “Yeah from the small amount I know about them, that sounds about right.” 

Jay agrees, “It was a sight to see that’s for sure. It took them everything to not kill us. They were held up there for a couple of weeks before we found them. But eventually, we got them to share their food and they just…followed us out of the grocery store when we left a day later. The four of us have been together since then.” 

“Sounds like you guys found each other at the right times. They say you always find the people you need for your life at the right time regardless of the situation.” You slid back down, lying your head back on his neck, “Just like how you found me.”

Jay squeezed you tightly, “I have to agree with that statement. It’s like I am your god or something.” 

You playfully slapped his bicep, “Oh shut up! You needed me just as much as I needed you.” 

“I did, I needed you so bad and it took me meeting you to realize it.” Jay now slid down the bed, lying his head on the pillow and pulling you fully against him, resting his forehead against yours, “The four of us traveled for days to get to the safe zone we are at now. It was still newly built and just redeemed safe to let people in. Been there since, obviously, and eventually, we are where we are now. Being smugglers to keep our place and food in our bellies.” 

You looked into his eyes, seeing all the hurt and pain he’s been through and even put himself through to continue to survive. To keep breathing. Jay kept fighting to stay alive for his brothers and kept going for someday finding more of a reason to keep his heart beating. He found that reason the moment he saw you. Even though you were pointing a gun to his head. 

“You’ve fought long enough, Jay,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his, “Please take the money when you hand me over.” 

Jay scoffs, “YN—“

“No,” you interrupted, “Take it. It would help you and the others. You all don’t need to fight anymore.” 

Jay just looks back at you, wondering how the fuck could he just take that money and run. To leave you with the capital. He couldn’t do it. He won’t do it. 

“I’ll find a way to get the money and bring you back home,” it sunk your heart hearing him call his safe zone your home. You had a home again. With him, “That way we can be set and I don’t have to leave you.” 

You softly kissed him. Moving your lips so gently against his. His hands moved from your back to your waist and pressed your body against his. 

Jay was home. Jay IS home. And you’d take up his mantle of fighting to protect him now. To keep him safe. Jay deserves it more than anything. 

—

To both your and Jay’s surprise, the next three-month journey was actually really smooth. Jay didn’t know if he should be worried or relieved that everything had gone smoothly. He’s tried to keep a positive mind, to push out that smuggler mindset he’s been in for years, wanting to be a better man for you. But Jay knew even if he wanted to drop that life, he was going to have to keep up that fighter persona. That protectiveness. There’s no doubt Soobin and his dogs already ran their mouths about you being immune, spreading the word to anyone and everyone they could. Probably more than likely putting a bounty over Jay’s head because of him shooting Kai. Jay had to start thinking more clearly about his future, about yours, if he wanted to keep the both of you alive for that future. Because he can’t live without you now, and he refuses to let anyone take you from him. 

You walked ahead of him, your palms facing outwards, brushing your fingers over the flowers and grass that grew tall, loving the way it tickled your hands. To say you’re happier than before would be an understatement. Jay finally confessing his deep feelings flipped a switch within you, like you have something more to live for besides just simply surviving for your fallen friends. At the start of this journey, you refused to let the capital take you, to use you as a curse for everyone else. But after meeting and falling in love with Jay…knowing that if he somehow gets bitten one of these days…the cure that would come from you would save him. You didn’t care about saving everyone else, just as long as you could save him, that’s all that mattered. 

You glanced up ahead, and the building you assumed was the capital, came into view. It looked like an old hospital. Overgrown with vines and weeds. If you didn’t know what to look for, you would have assumed this was just like any other normal old abandoned building like the rest of the world. But Jay gave you details on what to look for. 

“Looks like we finally made it,” You said, turning to look at Jay. He looks at you, then at the building, giving a nod. You started to shake, the fear of going inside taking over. You didn’t know what to expect. How will they treat you? Would it be filled with old doctors or politicians who think they know what is best for the world? Many more questions rolled through you and it took Jay taking your hand into his for your train to derail. 

“It’s going to be okay, I won’t let them hurt you, I promise,” And Jay meant it. He will stand beside you every step of the way. Letting the capital take what was needed then getting the hell out of there and back home. 

Jay leads you to the entrance, staring up at the camera that hangs from the ceiling above the door. Jay waved a hand at the camera, “Hello?? How do you expect to get people in and out if there’s no way to fucking knock??” Glad to see Jay didn’t completely go soft on you. You giggled at his straightforwardness, squeezing his hand. 

The door sounded with a click and opened. Jay squeezed your hand back before taking a step in, leading you in behind him. The entrance was dimly lit halfway, completely colored gray with hospital signs hanging to the walls. If you didn’t know any better, you would have figured this place was a disaster waiting to happen, that no soul would be living here. But that changed once the entrance expanded out into what looked to be the lobby of the hospital. The gray turned to white and bright lights filled the room. You didn’t have time to process the new brightness when seven men appeared in front of you and Jay. Not like magic or anything, your eyes just couldn’t adjust to the bright lights in time to see them approach. 

Jay gave each of them a nod, “Nice to see you again, Shotaro, Sungchan, Wonbin, Sohee, Seunghan, Eunseok, and Anton. Been awhile.” 

You followed Jay’s head movement to each of the seven of them, taking in their names and faces before looking over at Jay confused for a solid few seconds before remembering that Jay has been to the capital a few times in his life, of course he knew the people here. 

“Pleasure to see you, as always,” Shotaro said to him, giving a nod back, “See the trip here didn’t kill you.” 

Jay just chuckles, releasing his hand from yours, “It’s going to take a lot more than some zombies to take me down.” Jay knew joking with these people would be the best way to fit in and get things done. Shotaro and his crew were different from Soobin and his. Two different types of personalities here. 

“I am assuming this is the immune one?” Sungchan asked, tilting his head. His eyes scan your body up and down then stop at the bite mark on your wrist. You ditched the wrap and long-sleeve shirts back at the cave zone, the summer weather being too hot to keep up with it. Your bite was pretty much healed, no longer infected, and just looked like a normal wound in healing. 

“I have a name,” you growled at him, “I’m not just some “immune one” or whatever.”

All seven of them smirked at you, making you cling to Jay’s arm, “Feisty one, isn’t she?” Wonbin chuckled with a raise of his brow, “You sure know how to pick’em, Jay.” 

Jay just tried to give them his best smile, “This is YN. And yes she’s the one Jungkook called and talked to Namjoon about.” 

Namjoon?

“Joon is busy in a meeting,” Sohee sighs, “He told us to apologize on his behalf and welcome you into the capital.” 

Seunghan added, “He had to step in the moment you walked up to the door. He truly wants to meet you two here.” 

“We were expecting seven more of you though…” Shotaro said with his eyes scanning the two of you, “Where are your other six?” 

Jay shrugs, “They had other important matters to take care of, so I volunteered to make the trip myself.” 

“Ahhh,” Eunseok cooed, “I sometimes forget the seven of you are the best smugglers down in the southwest.” 

“Best of the best,” Jay awkwardly smiled, wanting to get this small talk over with, “Are we going to stand and wait for Namjoon to finish his meeting or???” 

Shotaro bowed a bit, “My apologies, you two must be exhausted from your long trip,” He stood back upright, “Anton, please take our friends to their rooms.” 

“We’ll share one, thanks for the thought though,” Jay was quick to say. 

Shotaro just looked back and forth between the two of you, and then the realization hit, “Ahh! You two are a pair. That’s…interesting considering Jay was a lone wolf when it came to mating.”

Jay just rolls his eyes at the comment, “People can change. You’d know if you left the capital more.” 

Shotaro just keeps his wide smile on display, “Anton.” 

Anton nods, waving the two of you towards him, “We saved the best rooms possible for you,” Jay leads first, dragging you close behind him, “We’ve also given you badges with access to every floor and room in the building. Given as a thanks for your sacrifice, YN. You’re doing the world a massive favor by coming here.” You just nod, confident that you’re only doing this for Jay to protect him, “We have a meeting set up for you to keep with one of the doctors later this evening, to kinda help ease your mind about all this.” 

You didn’t care and stopped listening to Anton explain everything. All you cared about was getting to the room to shower off the outside smell, dirt, and grime. To get in fresh clothing and get a much-needed nap before this place runs you left and right with tests. 

Anton finally let you into the room, handing off the badges to Jay, and with a nod, he left, closing the door behind him. The room was obviously small, being that it was an old hospital room. But it was still cozy, very bedroom-like. Paintings hung on the walls along with a medium-sized dresser with a mirror atop sat in the middle with the queen-sized bed right beside it and the bathroom sitting off to the left of the room. You made your way to the dresser, opening the first drawer to see plenty of clean undergarments for all genders, the second drawer was sleepwear, and the third and fourth drawer was filled with normal everyday shirts and jeans. You pulled pieces of clothing from each drawer and rushed to the entrance of the bathroom but stopped. 

“Can I shower first?” you asked, turning to look at Jay who was sitting at the edge of the bed, holding an envelope, “Jay? What’s that?” 

He looks up at you, “It was slipped under the door after we walked in. It’s the money they owe me for bringing you here.” 

You swallowed, watching as he opened the envelope and pulled out the cash. Jay felt like his heart nearly stopped at the amount of money he held in his hands, fingers slipping through each bill to make sure it was real and the actual amount they said they would give. And sure enough, it was. 

Jay looked at the cash and slowly put it back in the envelope. You could see the gears turning, “Don’t you even dare think about not taking it.” 

He looks at you, was he that obvious? “YN, baby, I can’t take it.” 

You quickly rushed to him, grabbing the envelope and shoving it deep into his backpack, “You came all this way for this, don’t back out of it now.” 

Jay stood to his feet and pulled you to him, “I don’t care about the money! I’ve told you before that you’re worth so much more than money.” 

You cupped his face, “You and the six back at home need this money, think about the life you can give them once we go back. Please don’t give it up.” Jay knew you were right. He made this trip in the first place all for his brothers and the money that would help give them a better life. So he nods, giving you a soft smile and picking you up into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. 

“We’re both stinky, let’s wash off, ya?” He said, placing kisses all over your face and kicking the bathroom door shut. 

—

The rest of your day was filled with following around one of the seven boys to multiple different stops with Jay close on your heels. The first stop was the cafeteria for lunch, eating the best chicken sandwich you think you ever had. The second stop was to one of the labs for some doctors to draw your blood and give you some juice and five minutes of sitting before sending you on the way. The third stop was the meeting with the doctor who explained the procedure of the blood being drawn from the first stop and how taking from the bone marrow during the procedure and then talking about somehow mixing other things to create the cure? You were no scientist nor a doctor and you couldn’t remember how they find cures in all the horror and survival movies you’ve seen in your life to even get close to knowing how it would work. Jay looked just as confused as you did. At least you all were on the same page. Somewhat. The fourth stop was back at the room, where you and Jay cuddled and took a good hour nap before Sungchan knocked on the door saying it was time for dinner. 

You two ate with the seven boys, them explaining how Namjoon was once again tied up and couldn’t make it to the meal to greet us. Jay just waved it off. He didn’t care about any more meetings, he just wanted to eat and go back to the room. The day was tiring, the whole trip was tiring. Tomorrow would more than likely be another busy day and all you wanted to do was change into your pajamas and hit the sack. The seven of the boys talked a lot, made a lot of jokes, and continuously teased Jay for being in a relationship as if it was such a hard thing for their minds to process. You tried to laugh at everything, to understand the jokes. You weren’t sure if it was the nerves or your exhaustion making it hard to play along. Thankfully dinner finally ended and you found yourself back in the comfort of your temporary room. 

“There’s only silk lace gowns in here?” You sigh, digging through the whole drawer to find a pair of pajama pants and a shirt, “Why are there ONLY silk lace gowns???” 

Jay peeked over your shoulder, his hands reaching around you to pull an emerald green gown out of the drawer, “I mean this is the capital, everything here is probably fancy in some form.” 

You take the gown from his hands with a sigh, “It’ll have to do I suppose.” Jay just gives you a small smile and nods as he backs away and sits on the bed, untying the laces to his boots. 

You glanced back at the silk gown on your hands and up to Jay. Maybe you were reading a bit into it, but why did he choose this color? Out of all the pretty colors in that drawer, his eyes went to this one. You tried to push down the thoughts, remembering the time back at the safe zone when he said your naked body was just skin. How he didn’t have time to deal with these types of things. But he was also in a relationship with you now? The two of you never discussed what you were after sex that one night. He’s made love to you multiple times since then but still never once said what you both were. Maybe he was just bullshitting when he saw you naked the very first time, but then again he didn’t see you in that light before. Maybe again you were just overthinking it. He’s never seen you in such clothing, so maybe that’s why he chose this color, maybe he wanted to see you in it. 

You decided to stop thinking too much about it and slowly stripped out of your clothes, dropping them down to the floor with a thud, causing Jay’s eyes to lift up to you as he started on his second boot. You kept eye contact with him as you slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders and unclasped the back, holding the bra in place on your breast as you pulled your arms through the loops. Jay’s eyes left yours and went to your breasts, watching as you dropped the bra to the floor. His body tensed. You had him wrapped around your finger. His eyes shot back up to yours, his face still so calm and collected. You finally pulled the laced emerald silk gown over your head and onto your body, fitting strangely well to your frame and tight in the right places. 

You slowly crawled into the bed and laid down, his body shifted to face you as you got comfortable on the bed. Jay was losing his mind and was fighting his demons to keep from jumping you and ripping that pretty little gown off your body. His mind wanders to all the things he wants to do, where he wants his hands, and where he wants his mouth. He stood from the bed, sliding his feet out of his boots, and pulling his shirt from his body. You bit your lip at the sight of his torso, how his tan muscular skin moved as he reached for the button on his jeans, the tint in his pants was enough to tell you that you did affect him. That this color was chosen on purpose. 

Jay dropped the jeans to the floor then crawled onto the bed and hovered over you, “You look way too damn good in green, you should wear it more often, baby,” all you could do was nod and rub your thighs together. Jay glanced down at your legs, a smirk falling to his lips, “Want me so bad you can’t form a sentence?” 

“Jay,” you whispered, “Please.” 

He bent down and kissed you, his right hand already touching the ends of the gown, “You’re so sexy,” he breathed between kisses, “You know that?” You didn’t have time to respond as his lips left yours to trail down your neck and then to your shoulder, biting softly at your skin, loving the way you squirmed underneath him. His hand was now under the gown, slowly riding up your thigh. His moved down lower, leaving opened-mouth kisses down to your collarbone, between your breasts, and down your stomach, both his hands were now under the gown and sliding up and up, bunching the gown at your waist, “I’m craving dessert, and you look just like something I want to eat.” 

You gasp at his words, feeling your slick pool in your panties. Jay slid down to your heat, spreading your legs apart, clicking his tongue at the wet spot, “Already so wet for me? I haven’t even touched you yet.” It was driving him crazy seeing you already soaked for him. How much more perfect could you get?? He rubs his knuckle against your folds, pushing the lips apart as he digs his knuckle further in, “So wet for me, baby,” he coos, licking at his bottom lip. Jay didn’t think he could wait much longer, he needed your taste in his mouth. To devour you. To make you cum against his tongue. God, it’s all he wanted at this moment. Jay looped his fingers at the hems of your panties and you lifted your hips up as he slid them down and threw them to the floor to be completely forgotten about. 

Jay lifted your legs onto his shoulders as he settled back between your legs, using his index and ring fingers to spread your cunts lips, “fuccckk,” he groaned, loving how some of your slick was slowly dripping out of your cunt. Your hands flew to his hair when you felt his tongue press flat to your heat, licking up and stopping at your clit and wrapping his lips and tongue around the sensitive bud. 

“Shit, Jay!” you moaned, gripping his hair tight between your fingers. His hum of pleasure vibrated against you, making your toes curl into the sheets. With his other hand, he slid two fingers into your hole, pumping in and out of you slowly. Jay could get lost in your pussy, could stay here for hours if he didn’t need oxygen to continue breathing, licking up every ounce of your juices you could offer to him. You clenched around his fingers and gripped his hair even tighter, letting out soft moans at the feeling of him on your clit and cunt. 

“Be louder, baby, I want to hear you,” he breathes, taking a few deep breaths in before attaching himself back to your clit, sucking on it softly and pushing his fingers in and out faster, keeping your lips spread with his other fingers. You were getting dizzy at the sensation, brain clouding and his fingers and lips being the only thing you could focus on as you chanted out his name over and over. It was magic to his ears, truly. The best sound he’s ever heard next to your normal voice. 

He detached from your clit and replaced his fingers in your hole with his tongue, reaching so far into you that his nose was now rubbing your clit along with his middle finger. The knot of your climax was about to snap. You tried to hold on for as long as you could, waiting to savor this feeling but also wanting the sweet release it would give you. Jay wasn’t giving you much of a choice, not with how he worked his tongue in your cunt and his finger on your clit. His whole job here was making you cum on his tongue, and he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he desired. So you gave in, letting the knot snap in two and your body shuddered. Jay moaned against your cunt, licking up every last drop of your cum with his tongue, “Fuck you taste so good.” 

He left soft kisses on your heat and both your inner thighs before hovering back over you completely, “You’re such a good girl for me, my sweet, continue being good and take this cock, ya?” you quickly nodded, reaching for his boxers to slide them off him. He chuckled as he helped you remove the last bit of his clothing, “impatient are we?” 

“Jay, just please fuck me already, I need you.” 

He clicks his tongue, smirking at you, “Gotta give the lady what she wants, right?” 

Not another word was said as he slides into you, fucking you already so hard and fast it made your overstimulation way worse. But it was so—so—good. He kisses you, forcing his tongue down your throat, getting a taste of yourself as you sucked on his tongue, wrapping your muscle around him in a perfect dance. Jay wrapped your legs around him and pinned your hands above your head, squeezing them tightly as he continued to rock his hips against yours, kissing down from your lips to your ear, “You’re stuck with me, understand?” he breathes, his breath sending chills down your body, “I love you, YN. I am so in love with you.” 

Tears filled your eyes as you wrapped your legs and released your hands from his and wrapped your arms tightly around him, squeezing him so tight against your body, wanting to feel every inch of him against you, “I love you too. Oh god, I love you too.” 

Jay moved faster, “Say it again, tell me you love me again.” 

You did, you chanted how much you loved him over and over until he was spilling his seed deep within you. So out of breath but continued to kiss all over your face and slowly rock his hips against yours to chase out his high. If this is what it felt like to be in love with Jay and be loved by him, you didn’t need any other emotion ever again. 

—

Jay rolled over, stretching his arm out on your side of the bed, surprise took him when he didn’t feel you there, running his hand up and down the spot you should be in. He fluttered his eyes open, the early morning sunlight shining against the paintings on the wall and the gray wallpaper. Jay lifted himself on his forearms and elbows, the cool air sending chills down his bare back as the blanket slid down to his waist. He looked at the spot you slept in, tracing his hand back over it and realizing the sheets were cold. You’ve been gone for a while. 

“YN?” Jay calls, thinking maybe you were in the bathroom, seeing that the door was closed, “Baby?” 

No answer. Jay lets out an uneasy sigh, clearly not liking the silence of the room. He sits up and pushes himself to the edge of the bed, pulling his boxers off from the floor and stepping into them, and snapping them at his hips, “Baby?” He tried calling again, walking to the bathroom door and carefully knocking, “YN, this isn’t funny.” Jay quickly opened the door, seeing the bathroom was empty. 

Panic started to settle in. 

Jay tried to keep calm, hoping you were just at the other labs the doctors and other officials of the capital have said. But all the hope was gone when Jay turned around, barely catching his naked top half in the mirror, seeing the red and irritated skin at the edge of his back right under the shoulder, the small puncture wound still clear and visible. He was drugged. And you were taken. 

Jay quickly rushed back into the room, pulling his clothes onto his body and picking up his backpack from the floor, noticing yours was still sitting in the same spot. Jay felt the panic deep in his core. You wouldn’t have just walked out of the room without telling him or bringing him with you. Jay’s suspicions only got confirmed after seeing the weapons from your and his backpack was missing. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, looking in the corner to see his shotgun was also missing from where he placed it against the wall. Jay dumped out everything from the backpacks and drawers, trying to find any weapon possible that they might have overlooked. But everything was gone. The only thing he found was the snacks and other foods and water the two of you had been carrying the whole trip and the white envelope with the money in it. Jay wanted to tear the money into pieces, to burn this whole place down from them taking you from him. He was going crazy and needed to find you, and fast. He pulled everything back into the backpack, combining your stuff with his. Jay took one last look at the envelope and then shoved it into the backpack. 

It was one problem after the other when he tried to walk out of the room to find the door was locked from the outside, “FUCK!” he screamed, taking multiple steps back and rushing to the door, connecting his shoulder to the wood. Step back, ram the door, step back, ram the door. repeat. repeat. repeat. Jay shook out his hands and arms, giving it one last final shove and the door pushed open, the locks and doorknobs falling to the floor. 

The hallway was dark except for the sunlight peeking through the windows. Not a damn soul was around. It was so silent you could probably hear the tectonic plates shifting within the earth. Jay treaded lightly, locking his jaw and clenching his fists as he slowly walked down the hall. This hospital was so full of life just yesterday, and now it’s like everyone is gone. This place once again looked abandoned before the capital officials took over. Jay figured it was before everyone knew the minute he woke up and saw you gone, all hell would break loose. Jay should have known. Should have listened to everyone who told them what would happen once he got you here. They were going to kill you. And he needed to stop it. 

First, he needed his weapons back. Following the signs on the walls leading him to the armory. There were two guards on watch when he reached it, “Fucking typical,” he whispered to himself, “All for little ole me?” Jay knew Namjoon was more than likely on high alert, knowing what moves Jay would be making and how he’d make them. Jay and his team aren’t the best smugglers around for nothing. He crouches down, slowly inching himself to the guards, assessing them before making another move. They both had knives and pistols attached to their hips with rifles in hand. Jay didn’t have a lot of time to come up with a solid plan and acted quickly. All the years of surviving had led to this. All the years of killing before getting killed. Learning how to be sneaky and how to lie through his teeth as he stole and picked pocketed his enemies. The person he had to become because of this apocalypse. All led him here. Once Jay was close enough, he quickly stood and broke out into a sprint. The first guard didn’t know what was happening by the time Jay reached him. His hands wrapped around his head and twisted, his body going limp at the crack of his neck. Jay worked fast before the guard's body hit the floor, stealing his knife and shoving it into the other guard's side between his ribs. 

“Now you will give me the information I seek out, got it?” he hisses, “Or you will end up like your friend over there, ya?” 

The guard trembled in Jay’s hands, his eyes darting to his now-dead friend on the cold hospital floor, “What do you want?” he tried to snap back, but it was not having any effect on Jay whatsoever. 

“Where is she?” Jay growled against the man’s ear, “Where. Is. YN?” Silence. Jay pushed the knife in further, the guard gritting his teeth to not scream at the pain, “Where the fuck is my girlfriend?!” Jay was yelling now, no longer playing these games. 

“Second floor, last room on the right side,” the man grunted out, “But it’s too fucking late,” Jay’s heart stopped, “They already began the procedure before sunlight even came, busted in right after you two slept,” you’ve been gone a lot longer than he thought. His panic sank further, “They took from her blood until she passed out and drugged her to stay asleep,” the guard chuckled, “She was a walking cure factory.” 

Jay shoved the knife deeper, “Is she alive?” The man groans in pain, “I SAID IS SHE STILL ALIVE!?” 

“YES!” he hissed, “But not for long. Her blood was only doing so much. They are going to go for her bone marrow now. Going to use every last drop she can give until she’s no longer breathing.” 

The man started to chuckle, but those chuckles changed into gurgles and he gasped for air before tipping over to the floor. Jay’s hands were trembling as he looked down at them, seeing the dark red tint staining his skin and the pool of it now covering the floor where Jay shoved the knife into the side of his neck. Jay swallowed and released a few deep breaths, recollecting himself and noticing his clothes now stained red. Jay sized up the first guard, thank god he looked to be about the same size as him. 

Jay was quick at changing into the guard's uniform, stealing his pistol, knife, rifle, and keycards. Always take the keycards, you never know when you’ll need them. He rushes into the armory, finding your pistol, his shotgun, and both your knives, shoving the smaller items into the backpack, and sliding his shotgun over his shoulder. Before Jay realized, he was stepping over the two dead guards and was up the stairs, making his way to the second floor. His legs shook all the way down into his boots. Trying to push out the images of the two lives he just ended. Jay has killed before during smuggling runs, but it never will get easier or something he’d get used to. This world created all this chaos and turned everyone into monsters. No one had a spot in heaven. Hell was the only final destination. 

The jitters left once both feet touched the second floor, and the rifle pointed upwards. The only thing on his mind now was you and praying he wasn’t too late. The floor was silent until he reached the corner of the building, where four guards were stationed outside the room. This was it. You were just behind those doors, hopefully still breathing. Jay didn’t want to think about what would happen if he went in there and saw you dead. The things he’d do…

You barely blinked in and out of consciousness, the bright lights shining on you from the ceiling were blinding, only being able to see white and the blue of the two doctors' lab coats. They talked between each other, not being able to make out any of the words they spoke. Your body hurts. Your head spun. Were you fixing to die? Where was Jay? Why did you feel so cold? Why did they take you from him the way they did? So many questions piled up in your brain. Jay is the main source of the questions. The main one was that he was safe. That he takes the money and runs so far away from here. That you died for this fucking cure in hopes if anything happened to him he wouldn’t turn into the undead outside. He could survive and have a better life than before. Your thought process was interrupted when both doctors looked down at you and asked a question. You didn’t know if you answered them or not, or couldn’t remember if you did. There was a poke on your wrist, and everything went fuzzy and your eyes closed. 

“She’s asleep again,” one said, setting the syringe down on the table behind him and checking your vital signs on the monitor, “Vitals are normal and steady, we can—“ the doctor stopped speaking, whipping his head to the entrance of the room. 

The other doctor looked at the one across from him, then turned to look at the door, then back to him, “What's wrong?” 

“You didn’t hear that?” he asked, his eyes widening. 

“I think you’re being paranoid, let’s continue.” 

He didn’t take his eyes off the door. Nor did he even have time to think about what happened next as Jay kicked the door open, his rifling pointing directly ahead. The doctor barely had time to see the dead bodies as the door closed behind Jay. Blood coated Jay’s face, hair, and clothes. 

“Joon said he’d be out the whole fucking day!” the doctor closer to Jay shouts, reaching for the surgical knife on the small tray table. 

“Don’t fucking move!” Jay snapped, “Back away from her!” 

The two doctors moved, their hands raised above their heads. Jay looked at you. Your skin was pale and your lips purple. Bruises covered your arms and bare legs, proof enough that you didn’t go down without a fight. You were hooked up to multiple different types of IVs. Jay tried to find any sign that you were breathing, eyes whipping to the monitor, watching as your vitals dropped. All Jay saw then was red. You were dying. He was losing you by the second. He couldn’t waste any more time. So he pulled the trigger. Their screams and voices were muffled out by the buzzing in his ears from the anger and the fear of losing you. He can’t lose you. 

He dropped the rifle to the floor once the room stopped spinning, his legs dragging him to your side, hands immediately grabbing for you. Your skin was cold to the touch. He hissed out from the pain in his chest, the pain of his heart clenching thinking you already were between the lines of life and death. Praying you weren’t. 

“Baby,” he whimpered, tears swelling his eyes, “Come on, YN, please wake up.” Jay softly shook you, placing his ear over your mouth, feeling your breath push out. It was weak. So, so very weak. “Baby don’t leave me, please.” Both his hands cupped your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “I can’t live without you, please.” Jay searched the room, removing himself from you to pull open all the cabinets and drawers in search of some drug to get your heart pumping normally again. Anything to get your vitals back up. He found what he needed and rushed back to you, with an empty syringe, “Forgive me, please,” he begged, pulling out the drug with the syringe needle, and filling it up, “Forgive me for bringing you here. For gambling your life like this. I am so so so sorry.” With shaky hands, he finds a vein in your wrist, “I love you,” and gently pushes it into your skin, injecting the clear liquid into your body. Jay whips his head to the monitor, watching your heart rate pick up and your vitals start to normalize. He drops the syringe and falls to his knees, running his crusted red-stained hands through his blonde hair. 

He doesn’t know how long he sat there like that. It wasn’t until you shifted on the table that he jumped back to his feet, coming back to reality and needing to get you out of there. Jay removed the IVs from your arms, bandaging them up and brushing your hair from your face, “Baby?” you fluttered your eyes, still too out of it to really open them. You knew Jay was finally with you, or that you were dreaming. Or even dead. You felt the warmth of his touch, heard his voice, and were barely able to make out his face. But he was here, nevertheless. Jay pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, “Let’s get you out of here.” Jay found your clothes and redressed you with them, tossing the hospital gown across the room. Jay took a final look at the room, seeing the vials filled with your blood and other chemicals. There were at least thirty of them. All were marked with tape that said “cure”. “Those bastards.” he hissed in his brain. But the longer he stared at them, the angrier he got. 

He carried you in his arms, rushing down to the ground level of the hospital, looking for a quick and easy way out. It was easy. A bit too easy. It was unsettling for Jay, something was off. It shouldn’t be this easy. 

“Jay?” you softly whisper, feeling his strong arms squeeze you tighter. Finally becoming more aware of the drugs slowly wearing off. 

“Shhh, It’s okay baby, I’m right here,” he whispers back, eyes darting in every direction, waiting for something to happen. And then it did. 

“Leaving without so much as a goodbye?” 

Jay stopped walking, his jaw clenching. You both were almost to the door, so close to leaving. But he turned anyway, seeing Namjoon standing there with his dimpled smile and hand folded behind his back. Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Seunghan, Wonbin, Sohee, and Anton standing directly behind him with guns pointing at Jay and you. Jay gritted his teeth, “Nice to see you finally made your appearance.” 

Namjoon chuckled, “I am a busy man, what can I say? Being the leader of this operation is very time-consuming. My apologies for not being there sooner.” Jay just stared at him, holding you tighter to his chest, “I believe you have something of mine,” Namjoon said with a sigh, stepping forward, “Give it back, please.” 

Jay barked out a laugh, “She doesn’t belong to you. Or anyone for that matter. And we’re leaving.” 

Namjoon inhaled, held his breath for a few seconds, and then released it, “You don’t understand what’s going on here, Jay.” 

“Oh like the fuck I don’t!” Jay yelled, taking a few steps back, “You’re killing her!!” 

“A sacrifice that I am willing to make,” Jay hated the straight face Joon was making. Hated how he seemed to be okay with ending your life, “She is special, Jay. She is so important to finding a cure.” 

“Then go find someone else that’s immune!” Jay snapped, “Leave her out of it!” 

Namjoon smiles, “She can save so many lives. Think about the people we can save, at her sacrifice. Think how the world can and will heal because of the sacrifice. Everything can go back to normal and she will be so worth it.” 

Jay clenched you tighter, “The world can fucking burn. She’s worth more than whatever righteousness you think you have by doing this to someone innocent.” 

“We aren’t innocent,” Joon sighs again, “This world made us into hunters, killers, and survivors. No one is innocent.” Jay didn’t want to hear it anymore. He wanted out, now. So he took more steps back, giving his glare locked on Namjoon and the seven guys behind him, “You’re making a mistake,” Joon said, following Jay, “Just give her back…” 

Jay quickly shifted your body to his side, pulling out the pistol at his hip, “Take one more step and I’ll fucking kill you.” 

“Like you did to my guards?” 

Jay said nothing, his fingers going numb from the grin he had on your belt loop to keep you pressed against him. You whimpered, the pain finally settling into you as the drugs wore off more. You clenched your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his leg, trying to hold yourself up against his hold, “I’ll kill who I have to to keep her safe.” 

Namjoon could see the desperation on Jay’s face, and just gave him another smile, “Go then. Just know you’re a wanted man the minute you walk out of those doors.” 

“Joon!” Shotaro quickly said, earning Namjoon to hold his hand up to silence him, then waving Jay to go forward. He slowly took the steps back, waiting until his back touched against the doors, and pushed it open, the pistol still pointing directly forward. Namjoon continues smiling even after Jay closes the door, leaving them in the lobby alone. Namjoon had enough samples of your blood to create copies. He also knew Jay would be heading back to his safe zone quickly. Namjoon will get you back. But this time by force. 

—

Jay slid the open window carefully, using his strength to push and pull himself up through the kitchen window, carefully climbing his way into the house. Jay barely touched his feet to the floor and turned around to see Heeseung pointing a gun in his direction, “What the fuck! It’s just me!” he whispers, “Watch where you point that thing!” 

Heeseung groans, “Why the fuck are you climbing through the window!!” He snaps, pointing to the front door, “You know how to use that right!!” 

Jay just looks at his brother up and down, being able to tell he’s lost weight since he’s been gone. The three of them all probably lost weight. Heeseung’s red hair was now completely washed out, leaving some patches of a soft pink color and some blonde streaks. Cuts and bruises covered Heeseung’s arms. He looked rough, and Jay could only imagine how the other two looked, “You’ve been struggling, haven’t you?” 

Heeseung scoffed, “Yeah, no thanks to you, Mr. Wanted man,” Jay raised a brow and Heeseung just sighed, “We know what happened at the capitol. I’m sorry for what they did to YN. We all should have gone with you.” 

Jay just shakes his head, “No. I almost lost her. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost her AND you three.” Jay didn’t want to think about what could have happened. He was back home and was safe and that’s all that matters. Jay asked Heeseung how they found out. Namjoon apparently wasted no time in radioing to Jungkook. Which Jay already figured, hint why he climbed through the window. But Jungkook was furious. The whole safe zone went on lockdown for a few months, but when Jay didn’t return directly after five months, everyone assumed he was either dead or not coming back. Jungkook limited the access Hee, Hoon, and Jake got to outside the zone. Not giving them many smuggler missions and even halving their paydown. The three of them struggled all in terms of punishing Jay. 

Heeseung sat at the table and Jay sat across from him, “Where is YN?” 

Jay took in a breath, “At the caved safe zone.” 

“That’s where you’ve been for half a year?” Heeseung didn’t mean to add the venom that came out when he snapped at Jay, “You settled down with your girlfriend and decided we weren’t worth it?” 

Jay slapped his hands on the table, “That’s NOT what happened!” Jay looks over to Sunghoon and Jake’s bed, seeing them still sleeping, and relaxed in his chair, “I knew they’d be coming for me. And I needed to protect her. Needed to give it time before leaving to come back to get you three.” 

“Get us?” Heeseung asked, folding his arms over his chest. 

Jay nods, “I already figured this place would be on a tougher lockdown. Had to find our other secret way that even JK doesn’t know about. Mostly after I saw our main hole was drilled shut,” he sat back, “I kept the money they gave me to take her there. And I stole all the vials they filled with her blood for the cure. I have plans, but I need you guys with me. Those two months in that cave were only to help YN recover better. The three months of getting her to that cave were hell on her. After what they did.” 

Heeseung nodded, only being able to imagine what you went through, “So you want us to leave and go back to the cave with you?” Jay nodded, “Why did you even leave her alone?! What if Namjoon finds her?” 

“She knows how to use a gun,” Jay quickly said, “We both know that. I showed her all the exits and safe places to run to just in case. It was a bigger risk bringing her with me than leaving her.” 

Heeseung thinned his lips in a line, staring at the table and weighing out the options, “What’s this plan?” 

“We sell her cure blood to those in need. Sell all we have and keep our refuge in the abandoned zone a secret. We use the money we have from the capital and from selling her blood to use for goods, clothing, weapons, and whatever we need. We find another zone to smuggle for, probably with Soobin and his team, and just survive.” 

“Just like we always have,” Heeseung softly says, looking at Jay, taking a few more seconds to think it over, “When are we leaving?” 

“Right now,” Sunghoon said, dropping his backpack to the table, “You guys really don’t know how to fucking whisper.” 

Jay chuckles, seeing Jake right behind him with his backpack, “About time we spread our wings from this hellhole,” Jake joked. 

You stood outside the metal door, rocking back and forth on your feet, it’s been months, they should have arrived already. You walked in circles, then went back inside just to walk in more circles around the cave. You cleaned up a bit and laid down to take a nap, just to barely close your eyes but not fully being able to sleep. 

You stood back up with a sigh and walked back outside. Standing there for what feels like forever until you see them. You couldn’t hold back the smile as Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jake walked past the gate. You broke out into a sprint. Jay dropped his weapons and backpack to the ground, bending his knees and spreading his arms out, catching you as you jumped onto him. His arms squeeze you tightly and his lips connect to yours. 

The smile his brothers gave you two makes your heart feel warm. Jay sets you down and pulls his three friends into a big hug before snapping orders for everyone to get inside. 

These people were your home now. Your family. Jay gives you a smile as he tangles his fingers with yours, after everything you two have been through, he was worth it and more. It was just your luck that you stumbled into his world. 

—tags: @alvojake @simpjaes @itachisloverlol @minseongsworld @heeseungshim @allysluvsworld @nyxtwixx @jjaeyunist @in-somnias-world @zeeloveshee @sunpov @xiaoderrrr @butterflywonie @sundoie @cmoundiamante @jentlecoeur @reign-reads @parksunghoonsgf @sparklovespink @wannieepisod @crimnalseung @ilikekpop-c @capri-cuntz @jwnghyuns @kimsunoops @blackhairandbangs @jjongswannabebae @lazy-miya @m3chigo @en-happiness @wonniethepoo @ikeuverse @woninluv @desistay @erehkinnie30 @peachystels @jinspinkflipphone @abysofsteel @randommmmmmvheusbs @minjaexvz @soobywiththebooty @wonryllis @shinrjj @star4rin @iheartjayke @0ctav1asstuff @jakeswifey @hanjisunginc @jinspinkflipphone @jungwonsbabygirl

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