#lee heeseung :((((

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

SAFE & SOUND — part 5

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

word count: 23.7k

a/n: there's a lot of lore dumping in this one, please read this when you're 100% awake or you'll probably not understand a single thing. additionally, i must preface by saying that this part is all kinds of fucked up. i really urge you to read with discretion. REALLY.

MASTERLIST

People.

They’re dangerous—more dangerous than the dead. It’s a fact that’s been drilled into your mind, reinforced over and over by the world you’ve come to know.

Once stripped down to their core, people will cling to any semblance of purpose. Not just in the sense they'd do anything to keep themselves alive. But they’ll latch onto whatever scraps of hope they can find—convincing themselves that a crumbling building, a barricaded corner of a burning city, is worth dying for if it means they don’t have to face the one truth that terrifies them most: that nothing is safe. That nothing lasts.

But now you understand something even more unsettling.

The only thing more dangerous than people are people with something to lose.

That’s what Jungwon is. That’s what he’s become. He’s not just surviving anymore—he’s holding onto these people, this place, like a lifeline. Like it’s all that stands between him and the abyss.

And that’s what makes him dangerous.

You don’t keep your distance because you think you’re smarter or stronger than him. You do it because you’re afraid. Afraid of the weight he carries every day, the weight of responsibility, of leadership, of knowing that every decision could mean life or death for the people who trust him.

And maybe that’s why being alone feels safer. Because if you’re on your own, you don’t have to deal with the messy, volatile nature of human emotions. You don’t have to shoulder the weight of someone else’s hope or risk letting them down.

You glance around the camp, taking in the barricades, the makeshift beds, the worn-out faces of people who are holding onto hope with everything they’ve got. You’ve already done enough for them.

You’ve gotten them the medicine they need. You’ve made sure they have enough food and water to keep going for however long the heavens permit them to stay alive. You’ve fought alongside them, bled alongside them, and given them more of yourself than you ever intended to.

But that’s it. You’ve reached your limit. You don’t have to hold yourself back for their kindness anymore. You don’t owe these people anything more than you owe yourself. And what you owe yourself—more than anything—is your chance at survival. And with that renewed mindset, you steel yourself.

Quietly, you gather your things. You don’t need much. Just what you can carry. The essentials—enough to keep you moving. Enough to keep you alive. Your hands tremble slightly as you pack, but you don’t stop. You’ve survived this long by knowing when to walk away. 

And that’s exactly what you’ll do.

At this juncture, you have to walk away. Now. Before it’s too late. Before hope takes root in you too, and you lose the capacity to leave. You told yourself you’d do it once the immediate danger had passed. Once you were sure they were safe—at least for a little while. It seemed logical, practical. The right thing to do. 

But now, standing here with that gnawing sense of dread in your gut, you realise that even that thought in itself was hope.

And hope is stupid.

You can’t stay. You won’t survive if you do—not just because of the imminent danger, but because of them. Because losing them would destroy you in ways the world never could.

The only thing more dangerous than people is people with something to lose.

And you have something to lose.

“I don’t want to see you lose yourself.” your own words echo in your mind, sharp and piercing. They’d felt like a knife to the chest when you said them, and they still do now. Because what you didn’t realise then is that it’s not just about Jungwon, or the group, or the rest stop. It’s about you. You’re afraid of losing yourself, of what you’d become if you stayed.

When you die—because everyone in this world eventually does—you only hope you can die as yourself. Human. Both physically and mentally.

It’s the one thing you’ve clung to since everything fell apart. The idea that, no matter how bad things got, you’d hold onto your humanity. You wouldn’t let the world take it from you. Because once that’s gone, what’s the point? What’s left of you then? A shell. A husk. Something that breathes but isn’t really alive.

You’ve seen it happen to others from the community building. People losing themselves, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but desperation and violence. Until they become unrecognisable—barely different from the monsters they’re trying to survive. It’s why you’ve kept your distance, why you’ve chosen solitude time and time again. 

Once you stay, once you put down roots, the danger will come for you. Because in this world, the danger never truly passes. It’s not something you can outrun or wait out. It’s relentless, always coming back, always finding new ways to haunt you. It’ll keep chasing you and every other survivor until it slowly, inevitably consumes you—or worse, you’ll have to stand there and watch it consume the people around you. 

You’ll then risk losing yourself as their deaths start to carve pieces out of you, leaving nothing but jagged edges and hollow spaces.

And you can’t afford to lose yourself like that. 

Not to them. Not to hope.

Tonight, you’ll take the first watch, sit through the long, silent hours, and leave without waking anyone for their shifts. Just before the sun rises—before they stir, before they have a chance to notice you’re gone—you’ll disappear.

It’s the best time to disappear—when the world is caught in that liminal space between darkness and light. This way, they won’t be in any immediate danger. They’ll wake to the sun rising over the horizon, unaware of your absence—at least at first. It’ll give them time to adjust, to make plans without you. And it’ll be easier for you to convince yourself it’s for the best.

The thought repeats in your head like a mantra, though it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, trying to ward off the chill creeping under your skin. The others are tucked away in the convenience store, huddled in their sleeping bags. Jake is next to Jay, keeping an eye on his breathing. Sunoo and Heeseung are resting against a stack of supplies, their heads lolling to the side in exhaustion.

Climbing onto the roof of the rest stop to take up the watch, you’re greeted by a perfect view of the vast horizon. The landscape stretches endlessly before you, dark and quiet under the blanket of night. From here, you’ll be able to spot a threat from miles away—long before it reaches the camp.

The night air is still, save for the distant rustle of leaves. The barricade feels impenetrable for now, but you know better than to trust in fleeting security. Nothing in this world is permanent. Not safety. Not peace. And certainly not the fragile connections you’ve built with these people.

Your gaze drifts toward the campfire, where the flames flicker weakly in the dark. Jungwon sits there, motionless, the rifle resting across his lap. Sunghoon and Ni-ki are beside him, their quiet conversation dwindling as the fire dies down. But Jungwon hasn’t moved since you started your watch. His posture is tense but controlled, his gaze fixed on the flames.

You wonder what he’s thinking—if he’s still replaying the events of the day in his mind. If he’s questioning the choices he’s made. The burdens he carries are etched into the lines of his face, visible even in the dim moonlight.

A part of you wants to go to him. To say something. To apologise for what you’re about to do. But that would be cruel.

Instead, you sit in silence, letting the minutes crawl by as the night drags on. Every second feels like an eternity, your heartbeat loud in your ears. You keep your gaze on the horizon, but your thoughts keep pulling you back to Jungwon. To the people who’ve come to trust you enough to leave you on watch alone, unaware of what you’re planning.

Slowly, one by one, they start turning in for the night. Sunghoon is the first to get up, quietly disappearing into the convenience store beneath you. Then Ni-ki. But before he goes, he pauses, glancing up at you on the roof. His expression is soft, boyish in a way that reminds you just how young he is.

“Don’t forget to wake me for my shift,” he says quietly.

You don’t think you can trust yourself to speak without your voice betraying you, so you simply nod, managing a small, tight-lipped smile.

Ni-ki lingers for a moment, as though sensing something is off. But when you don’t say anything, he finally turns away, disappearing inside.

And then it’s just Jungwon.

He hasn’t moved. The fire has almost gone out now, leaving only embers glowing faintly in the dark. His silhouette is barely visible from where you sit, but you can still feel the ghost of his presence.

Another hour passes before you sense it—a subtle shift in the air, the faint crunch of footsteps retreating into the convenience store.

You glance toward the campfire. It’s nothing but darkness now, and Jungwon is gone.

You don’t even know how much time has passed when you notice it—the faintest hint of dawn creeping over the horizon. The dark sky softens to a deep grey, the first light of morning stretching across the landscape. 

And you know. It’s time.

You descent from the rooftop quietly, careful not to make a sound. The camp is still, the soft snores of your companions the only indication of life. Your gaze lingers on each of them, committing their faces to memory. 

Your feet move silently across the gravel, carrying you toward the gate. The path ahead feels both endless and final, the weight of your decision pressing heavier with each step. You push open the metal gate just small enough for you to slip through, pausing only to adjust the strap of your bag.

Freedom.

The word feels hollow as you take your first steps beyond the safety of the camp. The road stretches out before you, bathed in the soft glow of dawn. The world is vast and empty, and for the first time in a while, you’re completely alone.

But as you take another step, a voice cuts through the silence.

“Y/N.”

You freeze.

Slowly, you turn around, your heart hammering in your chest. Jungwon stands by the gate, his silhouette outlined against the rising sun. His rifle hangs loosely in his hand, but his posture is tense. His eyes meet yours, dark and unwavering.

“You’re leaving.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement—a quiet, resigned truth.

You swallow hard, your throat tightening painfully. There’s no point denying it. He’s always been able to read you too well.

“I thought you might. After everything… I knew you wouldn’t stay.” His voice is steady, but there’s a roughness to it, like he’s holding something back.

Jungwon takes a step toward you, but you instinctively step back, creating distance between you. The space feels heavier than it should, like the air between you is suffocating.

“Don’t. Don’t make this harder than it already is.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it cracks under the vulnerability of your own emotions. The real shock is in the pain you hear in your own words—pain you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

He stills, his gaze never wavering. There’s anger in his expression, exhaustion and a deep sadness that cuts through you like a knife.

Jungwon’s jaw clenches. “Last night, you said you were going to share the burden with me.” His tone is quiet, almost hollow. “Was that a lie?”

You clench your fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms. “If you already know, why ask?”

A humourless laugh escapes his lips, the sound hollow and bitter. It echoes in the quiet of dawn, amplifying the ache in your chest.

“I had hope that you would stay,” he says simply.

Hope.

Not that damned hope again.

Silence stretches between you, heavy with everything said and unsaid. But you both know there’s nothing either of you can say to change the other’s mind. Nothing Jungwon says will convince you to stay—not if it means standing by while they get hurt, while they die. And nothing you say will convince him to leave—not when he’s already made this place feel like home.

“Why?” His voice breaks the silence, softer now. There’s something in his eyes—exhaustion, yes, but also something more vulnerable. Something broken. “Why are you leaving?”

You don’t answer him. You just stare at the void in his eyes and that’s when you notice the bags under it, the way his shoulders slump under the weight of everything he carries. He hasn’t slept all night. He must’ve been waiting—waiting for you to wake Ni-ki up for his shift. Waiting to prove himself wrong about you.

But you never did.

“So that’s it?” His voice rises slightly, frustration seeping in. “You’re already convinced we’re going to die? You don’t even want to try to fight?” His grip on the rifle tightens, his knuckles turning white. His whole body trembles with barely contained anger.

“For god’s sake, Jay took a fucking bullet for you!”

The words hit you like a slap. You flinch, your mind racing back to that moment. The blood. The panic. The sheer terror.

He’s right. Jay did take a bullet for you.

And you repaid that debt by risking your life at the bus terminal to get him the medicine he needed. Give and take. That’s what survival is, isn’t it? But suddenly, that line of thinking feels wrong. Twisted. Because with that mindset, you could justify anything. You could justify stealing from innocent people, killing whoever stands in your way, and calling it necessity. Just like The Future.

Your chest tightens. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but even to your own ears, it sounds hollow.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Jungwon snaps. His voice is raw, laced with hurt and anger. “If you were going to leave, you should’ve done it that night at the motel. You didn’t have to wait until I started caring about you.”

His next words strike harder than anything else.

“What makes you different from the people who walked away from you?” 

The question hangs in the air, cutting through you like a knife to the gut.

What makes you different from the people who left you behind? 

Everything.

Because those people didn’t care about you when they chose to leave. They didn’t hesitate when they abandoned the community building. And you didn’t care about them when you barricaded yourself in that corner to survive.

But here? Here, you care.

And walking away makes you a monster.

Jungwon steps closer, but this time you’re rooted to the spot. His eyes are searching yours, almost pleading. “You don’t feel anything at all?” His voice trembles, and it shatters you to see him like this—vulnerable and exposed in a way you’ve never seen before. 

“Y/N. Say something. Don’t just stand there—”

“You think it’s easy?” Your voice cracks, rising with anger you didn’t even realise you were holding in. “You think it’s easy choosing to leave you? To leave them?”

Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision but you don’t bother wiping them away.

“I wanted to leave that night at the motel,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Hell, I should’ve left. But that would’ve meant leaving all of you to die. I thought I could stay long enough to help, long enough for you to let your guard down so I could slip away. I never meant for it to come this far. I never meant to care.”

“You’re leaving all of us to die now. What’s the difference?” he asks quietly, though you can hear the spite in his words.

“Because I don’t want to stay here,” you choke out. “If you’ve already decided to settle down, there’s nothing I can do to change that. But I will not let myself stay here and watch the worst things imaginable happen to any of you.”

Your voice breaks, the tears flowing freely now. “At least out there, I can tell myself you’re still alive. That maybe I was wrong to think this place is a trap.”

Jungwon takes a shaky breath, his frustration cracking through the cracks in his composure. “Then stay,” he says quietly. “Stay and see for yourself. Stay and make sure you know damn well we’re alive. Leaving won’t keep us safe, Y/N.”

“Well, staying won’t keep you alive either!”

The words come out louder than you intended, your voice breaking as you sob. “I can’t lose any of you. You already saw the state I was in when Jay almost died. Sooner or later I will have to experience that kind of grief—if I have to lose you—I don’t think I’ll survive it.”

He scoffs, and you wince at the evident annoyance. "Back then, you barely knew any of us, and you were willing to sacrifice yourself to save our lives. Now that you do know us, you want to leave because you’re too afraid to see us die?" His voice trembles, rising with frustration. "You’re so full of shit, you know that?"

The words hang in the air, harsher than either of you expected. You see it in his face—the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his lips press together, as if trying to pull the words back. He hadn’t meant to say it, at least not like that. But it’s out there now, and there’s no taking it back.

Jungwon’s expression softens almost immediately, the anger melting into something quieter, something more painful. His shoulders sag, and you can see the weight of everything pressing down on him, heavier than ever. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely above a whisper, broken by the raw emotion behind it.

“I—I didn’t mean it that way—”

“No.” You cut him off, shaking your head. “You’re right.” Your voice trembles, the truth unraveling inside you, spilling out in a rush you can no longer control. “I’m a coward. I’d rather walk away than experience that loss.”

Jungwon flinches at your words, his expression crumpling as though he’s trying to keep his composure, but failing. His gaze locks onto yours, and in that moment, all the walls he’s built to keep himself steady come crashing down.

“And it’s not a loss to leave us? To leave me?” His voice cracks as he takes a step closer, his eyes dark and glassy with unshed tears. There’s no anger left in him now—just pain. Raw, unfiltered pain. 

You can barely breathe past the lump in your throat, your chest tightening with each second of silence that passes. You blink rapidly, trying to push back the tears threatening to fall, but it’s no use. The emotions you’ve tried to bury rise to the surface, clawing their way out. 

Jungwon’s hand reaches out, hovering just beside your face. He’s waiting for you to lean in first, to close the distance, to give him a sign that you won’t leave. His fingers tremble slightly, so close that you can feel the faint warmth of his palm.

But you don’t move.

“You’re the greatest loss, Jungwon.”

Your voice is so quiet, you almost don’t hear yourself say it. The words slip out like a confession you’ve kept buried for too long. And for a moment, everything is still. Silent.

Jungwon’s eyes widen slightly, as though he’s just realised the weight of what you’ve said. His lips part, like he’s about to say something—maybe to beg you to stay, maybe to tell you he feels the same—but you don’t let him.

You don’t give yourself the chance to change your mind.

You step back, his hand falling limply to his side, and the space between you feels insurmountable. You take another step back, then another.

And this time, when you turn your back on him, you don’t look back. Even with tears streaming down your face, even as your chest aches with the implication of everything you’re leaving behind, you force yourself to keep walking.

Because you know that if you see the look on his face—if you see the heartbreak in his eyes—you won’t be able to walk away.

But even now, as you tell yourself it’s better this way, there’s a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind. A whisper that wonders if isolation is really strength or just another form of self-destruction.

You have no idea how long you’ve been walking. Your thoughts swirl chaotically, clouded by the argument with Jungwon that still plays in your mind like a broken record. The sun hangs high in the sky now, its rays cutting through the morning mist as the chirping of birds fills the air—a hauntingly normal sound in a world that’s anything but.

When you turned your back on him and walked away, you hadn’t planned on where to go. You’d just moved, one foot in front of the other, mindlessly pushing forward like one of the undead you’ve fought so hard to avoid. 

All you know is you have to keep moving. Don’t stop. Don’t let yourself get tied down by people, places, or promises.

Before you even realise it, the bus terminal comes into view on the horizon. That bus terminal. The one where everything nearly ended for you. Where Jungwon saved your life.

The memory threatens to surface, but you shake your head sharply, forcing it down. No. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of them. You left them for a reason.

And yet, here you are, heading back toward the city. Back toward the very place you tried so hard to claw your way out of when the outbreak first began. It’s almost laughable, the irony of it. Back then, you were desperate to escape, fleeing the chaos and death that seemed to choke every street. But now? Now you’re willingly going back.

It’s not because the city has become safer—it hasn’t. The streets are likely still teeming with the dead, and the stench of decay probably still clings to the air like a curse. Survivors rarely venture in, the danger too great for most to justify. That makes it a kind of sanctuary in its own twisted way.

You don’t know when it happened—when avoiding the living became more crucial than avoiding the dead. But after everything you’ve been through, after everything that went down with the group, you realise now that some people are better off left alone. Like you.

It’s easier this way. In the city, you don’t have to constantly look over your shoulder for someone else’s sake. Every action, every decision you make will only affect you. There’s no group to protect, no lives depending on your choices, no shared weight to carry. You can move freely, without the suffocating burden of responsibility pressing down on your chest.

As you approach the outskirts of the bus terminal, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. 

What lies ahead makes your stomach churn, the sight so incomprehensible it feels like your mind is playing tricks on you. A horde—massive, grotesque, suffocating in its sheer number—fills the gaps between rusting cars and crumbling buses, their guttural moans and the wet shuffling of decayed limbs filling the stagnant air. The commotion from last night must’ve drawn them here. 

No, something is off.

Your first instinct is to duck, to press yourself against the side of a nearby car, but curiosity keeps your eyes locked on the scene. The horde’s movements are... strange. It’s not just the usual shambling chaos of the dead, not the erratic, aimless wandering you’re used to. It’s too... coordinated. Sections of the group lurch forward in unison, turning together as though responding to some unseen signal.

And then you see them—figures standing atop the cars, scattered like silent sentinels amidst the chaos. Their heads swivel, scanning the area, their posture betraying an awareness the undead don’t have. 

From your hiding spot, you squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Their bodies are draped in something you can’t quite make out at this distance—tattered rags, maybe? No. Your stomach twists as you squint through the haze. It’s flesh. Patches of rotting skin and gore strapped to their bodies, like grotesque armour. Their faces are hollowed out, decayed. But their eyes… it’s clear. Just like the zombie you spotted in the clearing that day. The one that stood eerily still, watching, waiting.

Then one moves. Not with the jerky, mindless motion of the dead, but with purpose. Deliberate. Intentional. Your breath catches in your throat as the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

They’re… human? But the dead is not going after them. How is that possible?

You watch as one of the figures on a car stomp its foot onto the roof. The horde responds almost immediately, a section of the undead turning in unison, moving as if corralled toward a tighter group of vehicles. Another figure lets out a whistle, low and sharp. The sound sends a ripple through the horde. The zombies lurch toward the source, shuffling like sheep to a shepherd’s call.

It’s sickeningly methodical. Choreographed chaos.

Your mind races as you try to process the scene. These people—whoever and whatever they are—they’ve figured out how to control the dead, how to manipulate them like tools.

Then, you spot another one of them on the roof of the terminal, the one you and Jungwon came from. He’s wearing the same decayed face but his stance is confident, almost arrogant, as he surveys the horde below. 

“Friends!” he calls, his voice echoing above the chaos, carrying an authority that you’ve never heard before in this ruined world. The horde reacts immediately, pushing forward as if his words alone are a leash pulling them to heel. They claw at the walls of the building, their rotting fingers scraping against the brick, desperate and unrelenting.

Your heart hammers in your chest, the sound almost deafening in your ears. Friends? The word twists in your mind, warping into something grotesque. He’s speaking to the dead like they’re equals, like they’re allies in some twisted cause.

“We’re not far now,” he continues, his voice filled with a fervour that makes your stomach churn. The horde responds again, the shuffling and groaning growing louder, almost like a chant. “Tonight, they’ll pay for what they’ve done!”

Your breath catches, and your grip on your bag tightens. They? Who’s they?

The man raises his arms, the action reminding you of a preacher before his congregation, a maestro before his orchestra, and the dead press closer to the building, their movements frenzied in response to him.

“They won’t even know what hit them!” His voice reverberates, filled with rage and something else—something almost gleeful. It’s the sound of someone relishing the thought of destruction, of revenge.

Your gaze darts to the figures on the cars. At first glance, they seem indifferent, but then they raise their fists in unison, a silent cheer. A rallying cry without words, their collective movements eerily synchronised, like a grotesque sermon preached to the dead.

The noise of the horde grows, a crescendo of chaos that grates against your nerves. You can’t tear your eyes away from the man on the roof as he reaches back, his movements slow and precise, untying something from the back of his head.

Your breath catches as he pulls it forward, letting it swing for a moment in the wind. It’s a mask—thin, gnarled, stitched together from the decayed skin of the dead. The detail makes your stomach churn: patches of dried flesh, sinew hanging loose, and hollowed-out eye sockets that must have once belonged to something that used to breathe. When he looks up again, your blood runs cold.

It’s him. The guy Jay went after.

Your stomach flips violently as the pieces snap together in your mind. The zombie from the clearing—that eerily still, haunting figure that locked eyes with you—it wasn’t a zombie. It was him.

Your gaze jerks back to the other figures standing on the cars, to the masks they wear, and the realisation makes your skin crawl. They’re all wearing the dead. Covering themselves in the stench of decay to mask their scent, blending seamlessly with the horde. Walking among them. Herding them like livestock.

The realisation sends a cold shiver racing down your spine, leaving your limbs heavy and unresponsive. The world around you feels like it’s tilting, the ground shifting beneath your feet as you struggle to process the horror in front of you. Your mind races, frantically revisiting every moment that didn’t make sense before: the horde that ambushed you in the city, the back door at the motel, the perfectly timed attack at the camp. It was them. It’s always been them.

The bile rises in your throat, burning and bitter, but you force it down, swallowing hard as you cling to the only thing you can do right now—stay quiet. Your breath comes shallow, the sound of your pounding heartbeat drowning out the chaos around you. 

Your hand trembles as you steady yourself against the car, the metal cool under your palm. You’re not sure how long you can stay here without being spotted, but one thing is clear: these people are dangerous. More dangerous than the dead, more dangerous than any survivor you’ve encountered.

Every instinct screams at you to run, to put as much distance between yourself and this nightmare as possible. But you can’t.

They’re moving the horde. 

Towards you. Towards Jungwon. Towards all of them.

Without realising, your legs move on their own, instinct taking over as you bolt back in the direction you came from. It doesn’t matter that it took you nearly an hour to walk here; you’re running now, faster than you thought your body could manage. 

Your mind races just as fast as your feet. The whole thing feels like some cruel cosmic joke. 

And now, with every step closer to that rest stop, you feel the pull of something you thought you’d severed. It’s not just the danger that’s pushing you back—it’s them. 

Jungwon, with his quiet, unshakable strength that masks the unbearable weight he carries. Jay, who bled for you without hesitation. Ni-ki, who never stopped believing in the group’s survival. Sunoo, Jake, Heeseung, Sunghoon—they’re more than just people you met along the way. They’re the only thing tethering you to this broken, crumbling world.

And that’s exactly why you left.

You left because you couldn’t stand the thought of watching them die. Not Jungwon. Not any of them. Because you know what would happen if they did. The rage would consume you, boiling over until it scorched everything in its path. The grief would hollow you out, leaving nothing but an echo of who you used to be. You’d do things you promised yourself you’d never do, and the world would win. It would take you, just like it’s taken so many others. You’d become a stranger to yourself.

But the irony isn’t lost on you now. You left because you didn’t want to watch them die. You told yourself it was about survival—your survival. You couldn’t stay and risk being reduced to ashes by grief and rage.

And yet here you are, sprinting back to possibly watch them die. Back into the chaos. Into the danger. Into the pain.

You don’t want to go back. You do. You don’t. The contradictions whirl in your mind like a storm, a tempest of fear, anger, and regret. Every step forward feels like a step closer to doom. But every thought of turning back feels like a betrayal of something you can’t quite name.

Back then, it was just an invisible threat—a vague, looming shadow of danger that hung over you like a storm cloud. You couldn’t see it, couldn’t touch it, you don’t know for sure, you could only feel it. That gnawing dread, the constant whispers of worst-case scenarios. And you’d told yourself that leaving was the only way to spare yourself the pain of the inevitable.

Or maybe they wouldn’t die at all. Maybe you were just being paranoid. Maybe you were wrong about that place. Maybe they’d prove you wrong by thriving, by turning it into the refuge they so desperately wanted it to be. You told yourself all of that to justify the decision to walk away, to convince yourself it was the right thing to do.

But even that was just another lie. Another twisted attempt to deny what you really felt. And despite your best efforts to shut it out, to drown it in logic and practicality, you realise now—that thought in itself, that denial, that ignorance—is hope.

Hope that leaving would somehow shield you from the pain of watching them fall apart.

Hope that they wouldn’t die, that you were just being overly cautious, overly cynical.

Hope that you were wrong about that place, that it wasn’t a death trap waiting to claim them all.

And maybe that’s why you hate the whole idea of hope.

Hope, in all its naive, fragile glory, has been the cruelest trick the world ever played on you. It’s a poison wrapped in pretty words and good intentions. You’ve told yourself time and time again that hope is what gets people killed. It makes you reckless. Makes you believe in things that don’t exist. Hope makes you stay when you should run, makes you trust when you shouldn’t, makes you care when you can’t afford to. And the worst part? Hope doesn’t stop the bad things from happening. It doesn’t save you from loss, from grief, from pain. It just makes the fall hurt that much more when it all comes crashing down.

And now, running back down this highway with every nerve in your body screaming at you to hurry, you feel the weight of it pressing down on you.

You didn’t leave because you thought they’d be fine. You didn’t leave because you believed they’d prove you wrong.

You left because you hoped. In your own twisted way.

But now? Now, knowing what you know, hope feels like a cruel joke. There can’t be hope. Not anymore. Because you know the truth. You’ve seen it with your own eyes.

The people on the cars, the masks of flesh, the herded horde—it’s all proof that this world doesn’t care about hope. It doesn’t care about survival. It only cares about death, about how it can twist and shape and devour until there’s nothing left. 

They’re not fine. They won’t thrive. They won’t prove you wrong. You can’t even tell yourself that you’re overthinking it, that you’re paranoid, that it’s all in your head. Ignorance is no longer bliss because you know. It’s not just some superficial, nebulous fear anymore. It’s real, and it’s heading straight for Jungwon and the others, and you’re the only one who knows. 

They don’t know what’s coming. Jungwon doesn’t know. The group doesn’t know. And if you don’t make it back in time—

The thought hits you like a sledgehammer, knocking the breath out of you. You trip over a crack in the asphalt, your body hitting the ground hard, the impact jarring your entire frame. 

For a moment, you’re dazed, your palms scraped and bleeding against the ground. But the sound of your ragged breathing snaps you back to reality. There’s no time to stop. No time to let the pain sink in. You scramble to your feet, dirt clinging to your hands and knees, and keep running.

You don’t even know how long you’ve been running. All you know is the tightening in your chest, the fire in your lungs, and the unrelenting truth clawing at the back of your mind.

They’re actually going to die.

That knowledge burns, searing away any last shred of hope you might have clung to.

And maybe that’s why you hate hope so much. Because you wanted it to be real. You wanted to believe, even if it was just for a moment, that they could have a chance. But this world doesn’t allow for chances. It doesn’t allow for happy endings. It only allows for survival—and only for those willing to tear apart everything and everyone in their way.

Your pace slows as the rest stop comes into view in the distance, the barricade just barely visible against the horizon. Your heart twists at the sight of it. It looks the same as when you left, quiet and still, like it’s waiting for something to happen.

You can’t stop the bitterness from rising in your chest as you picture Jungwon’s face when you walked away. The disappointment, the anger, the heartbreak—it’s burned into your memory like a wound that refuses to heal. He probably thought you were giving up on them, giving up on him. And maybe, in a way, he was right. Because you couldn’t bring yourself to watch them cling to hope like a noose tightening around their necks

And yet, here you are, running back. Not because you believe you can save them. Not because you think there’s still a chance. But because you can’t bear to let the world prove you right. Not like this. Not when the price of being right is their lives.

You hate hope. You hate what it does to people. But what you hate even more is the thought of standing here, doing nothing, and watching it die. Not just them—you. 

Because saving them is saving yourself.

You realise that now, with every step you take. You can’t separate the two. You can’t convince yourself that walking away from them doesn’t mean walking away from who you are, from the part of you that still has a purpose.

The choice isn’t about hope or survival anymore; it’s about what you’re willing to lose in the process.

If you’re going to lose yourself, let it be in trying. Let it be in throwing everything you have into saving them, even if it breaks you in the process. Let it be because you cared enough to fight.

Because the alternative—the guilt, the regret of turning your back and knowing you could have done something—would be far worse. It would eat away at you. Hollowing you out in a way you’d never recover from.

So if saving them means letting the world take the last piece of you, then so be it. If the cost of trying is everything, you’ll pay it. At least this way, when you lose yourself, it’ll be with a purpose. At least it won’t be for nothing.

And if it comes down to it, if the fight doesn’t go the way you hope, you just pray you won’t live long enough to witness the fallout. You hope the world will be merciful enough to take you before it forces you to watch it take them.

You’re close now, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you force your legs to keep moving. The thought of Jungwon and the others pushes you forward, fuels your determination. You can’t let them be caught off guard. You can’t let them die.

The gates swing open before you can even catch your breath to announce your presence. Figures. They probably saw you miles before you even reached the rest stop, perched from their vantage points or perhaps by sheer habit of being on guard.

It’s Sunoo who greets you at the gate, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Y/N! Back already?” he asks, his tone casual, cheerful even. Like you’ve just returned from a harmless errand rather than the most tumultuous hours of your life.

Back already. The words settle uneasily in your chest as you step through the barricade. You glance at him, noticing the messy state of his hair, sticking up in odd angles, and the faint marks of sleep still etched onto his face. He doesn’t know. None of them know.

You scan the area, catching sight of the others. Sunghoon is by the fire, stretching as if he’s just woken up. Heeseung’s leaning against a pillar, rubbing the back of his neck. Even Ni-ki, who usually has a sharp, alert edge to him, is sitting cross-legged in the back of the van, yawning into his hand.

They don’t know you almost left for good. They have no idea that you had stood on the edge of this very decision, ready to walk away from all of this—from them.

Your chest tightens as you realise how quickly things could have gone another way. If it weren’t for what you saw back at the terminal, you’d be gone right now, miles away from this place, convincing yourself that this is how it had to be. And yet, here you are, standing in the midst of them, and not a single one knows how close you were to never coming back.

And then you see him.

Jungwon is leaning against the wall near the van, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze locks onto yours the moment you step into the camp, his expression unreadable. There’s no accusation in his eyes, no anger, no “I told you so.” He just looks at you, and you know.

He didn’t tell them.

Whatever passed between you before you left—whatever anger, whatever hurt—it’s gone now, buried under something heavier. Something you can’t quite name.

Your breath hitches as you hold his gaze, a silent exchange passing between the two of you. There’s no point in asking why he kept it to himself. You know why. He’s protecting you, just like he always does, even when you don’t deserve it.

Sunoo, oblivious to the weight of the moment, grins at you and gestures toward the rest of the group. “We figured you were off hunting or something, but damn, you’ve been gone for three hours. Did you get anything?”

Three hours. That’s all it’s been. You glance down at your hands, still clutching the strap of your bag like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. It felt like so much longer. Like a lifetime has passed since you last stood here.

You glance back at Jungwon, who hasn’t taken his eyes off you. And in that moment, you understand something you didn’t before. He didn’t just protect your secret because it was the right thing to do. He did it because he knows you. Knows how close you were to walking away. Knows how much you’ve been wrestling with the weight of staying. And somehow, despite all of that, he’s still here, waiting for you.

“Well, are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to tell us what you found?” Sunoo’s voice jolts you out of your thoughts, and you force a smile, your mind already racing with how you’re going to explain what’s coming.

Because they may not know that you almost left. But they’re about to find out what you came back for.

You take a deep breath, willing your trembling hands to steady as you adjust the strap of your bag. Sunoo is looking at you expectantly, his cheerful demeanour a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. The others are starting to notice now—Heeseung raises an eyebrow, Sunghoon straightens his posture, and Jake steps closer, his gaze narrowing slightly in concern.

“I… didn’t go hunting,” you begin, your voice low but steady. You glance around the group, meeting their eyes one by one before landing back on Jungwon. His expression remains unreadable, though you catch the slightest twitch of his jaw. “I went back to the bus terminal.”

The ripple of confusion is immediate.

“What?” Jake’s voice cuts through the silence, his brow furrowed. “Why the hell would you go back there?”

“I had to check something,” you say, your words rushing out faster than you intended. “Something didn’t sit right with me about that place, about what happened. So I went back to see if—” You pause, your throat tightening as the images flash through your mind again: the horde, the people, the masks.

“If what?” Heeseung prompts, his voice calm but edged with concern.

Your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag as you force yourself to say it. “There’s a horde at the terminal.”

“A horde?” Sunghoon echoes, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Yes,” you say firmly, your eyes scanning the group to make sure they’re listening. “A massive one. Bigger than anything we’ve seen before. But that’s not the worst part.” You take another breath, steeling yourself. “There are people. People controlling it.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“People?” Sunoo’s face twists in confusion, his earlier cheer replaced with unease. “What do you mean, controlling it?”

“They’re… wearing the dead,” you say, your stomach churning at the memory. “Masks. Clothes. Covering themselves in the scent of decay to blend in. They’re herding the zombies like livestock. I saw them. They’re leading the horde.”

Silence. The kind that feels too loud, too sharp.

“That’s not possible,” Jake finally says, his tone disbelieving. “No one can control the dead.”

“I’m telling you, I saw it with my own eyes!” you snap, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “They’re moving the horde, and they’re coming this way. They’re coming for us.”

Heeseung’s expression darkens, and he exchanges a look with Sunghoon. “How do you know they’re coming here?”

You hesitate, your gaze flicking to Jungwon. He’s still silent, his eyes locked on yours, waiting.

“Because he was there—the guy that Jay went after,” you admit, your voice dropping. “I saw him. Seems like he’s the one in charge too. They’re planning to attack tonight. They know you’re here.”

The weight of your words sinks in, rippling through the group like a shockwave. The air shifts, heavy with dread, the fragile sense of safety they tried to hold onto cracking under the pressure. Sunoo looks pale, his cheerful energy drained away as he stares at you like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Jake’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing with determination, though the tension in his shoulders betrays the fear he’s trying to suppress. Ni-ki, who’s just stepped out of the van, freezes mid-step, his expression hardening into one of unease.

Then, movement from the convenience store catches your attention. You glance over, your breath hitching when you see Jay standing in the doorway. Relief washes over you at the sight of him upright, alive, looking much better than the last time you saw him. He’s out of bed—too soon, really—but still, he’s here. Thank god.

But then the relief wanes, replaced by a twinge of worry. The pain in his posture is evident in the way he leans slightly against the doorframe, his body curling in on itself as though every breath takes effort. His complexion is pale, almost ghostly, the lack of colour suggesting someone still in convalescence, still vulnerable. Yet he’s standing there, bearing witness to everything.

And there’s something else. A look on his face that tugs uncomfortably at your chest—regret. It’s there in the tight line of his mouth, in the way his gaze flickers between you and the others. He must’ve heard what you said about the guy. About how he’s still alive. About how he’s leading this horde straight to them.

The regret in his expression cuts deeper than any words could. It’s not regret for himself, not for the pain he’s in or the bullet wound that’s barely begun to heal. It’s regret for what he didn’t finish. For the job he couldn’t complete. And now, because of that, the people he cares about are going to suffer the consequences.

Jay’s the type to bear the blame even when it’s not entirely his to bear. And now, standing there, he looks like he’s drowning in it, his regret and guilt weighing him down like a stone tied to his chest.

“What do we do?” Sunoo’s voice is small, almost childlike. It trembles with fear, breaking the heavy silence that’s gripped the group since your return. His wide eyes dart from person to person, searching for reassurance that none of you can offer.

“We leave,” you say firmly, your gaze locking onto Jungwon’s. The words leave your mouth with more force than you intended, your desperation bleeding into every syllable. “We pack up and leave now, before it’s too late.”

But Jungwon doesn’t respond. His dark eyes remain fixed on yours, unreadable, like he’s searching for something he’s not sure he’ll find.

“Jungwon,” you press, your voice rising slightly as the urgency claws at your chest. “You know we can’t stay. Not with what’s coming.”

His jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as the group watches the two of you with baited breath. You can feel the tension rolling off him, coiling tighter with every passing second. For a moment, you think he’s going to argue. But then he speaks, his voice low and measured. “If we leave now, they’ll follow us. A moving group is easier to track. We need to think this through.”

“Think this through?” you echo, incredulous. The disbelief cuts through your voice, sharp and biting. “There’s nothing to think through. They’re coming, Jungwon. If we stay here, we’re sitting ducks.”

“And if we leave, we’re exposed,” he counters without missing a beat, his calmness only fuelling your frustration. “We don’t even know if we’d make it out of the area before they catch up to us. We need a plan.”

The group falls silent again, their eyes darting between the two of you like they’re caught in the middle of a battlefield with no way to escape. The weight of their stares presses down on you, amplifying the tension already thrumming in your veins.

Your chest heaves as you search for the right words to push through his resolve. But before you can, Jay speaks, cutting through the thick air like a blade. His voice is quiet but firm, carrying a gravity that makes everyone turn toward him. “He’s not going to stop, you know.”

You snap your head toward him, your breath hitching at the resignation in his tone. His gaze locks onto yours, and in that moment, you understand what he’s trying to say.

“He’ll find us,” Jay continues, his voice steady despite the obvious pain he’s in. “And he’ll keep finding us until he gets what he’s looking for.”

"If you're suggesting we leave without you, forget it. We—"

“The only choice is to stay and fight. To settle it once and for all.” Jay’s eyes flicker to Jungwon, then to the rest of the group, his words slicing through the growing sense of dread.

The silence that follows is deafening. You can feel the ripple of fear that passes through the group, the unspoken understanding of what staying to fight would mean. It’s not just survival anymore. It’s war. And war always demands sacrifice.

Jungwon’s gaze shifts to you again, his expression unreadable but weighted with expectation. He’s waiting for you to argue, to push back. But you don’t. Because deep down, you know Jay’s right. This isn’t just some random attack. It’s a personal vendetta. 

Even if you manage to convince them to leave, to escape the immediate threat, it won’t guarantee their safety. These people don’t just want resources or a fight. They want vengeance. They want blood. And they won’t stop until they have it. Running will only delay the inevitable. 

You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. “If we stay,” you finally manage, your voice trembling slightly, “we need to be ready. Completely ready.”

Jungwon nods once, the tiniest flicker of approval crossing his face before it’s gone again. He turns to the group, his voice steady and commanding as he begins issuing instructions. “Ni-ki, Jake—check the barricades. Reinforce every weak spot you find. Sunghoon—bring out all the guns and ammos from the backroom. Sunoo—gather anything we can use to secure the perimeter. I saw some extra rows of barb wires in the basement earlier. Heeseung and I will map out entry points and blind spots. Jay, you stay inside.”

Then Jungwon turns to you.

You wait, holding your breath, anticipating the order he’ll give you. But it doesn’t come. Instead, his gaze lingers on you for a fleeting second before he looks away, addressing the others again. He’s leaving you out of it—deliberately. The realisation hits you harder than it should.

At first, you think he’s still angry, that the tension from your earlier argument hasn’t fully dissipated. But as you study his face, the way his jaw is set but his eyes avoid yours, you see the truth. He’s not mad at you.

He’s giving you an out. He’s leaving the option open—the option to walk away, still.

The group disperses quickly, each person moving with purpose as they carry out their assigned tasks. The sound of hurried footsteps and shifting supplies fills the air, but you remain rooted to the spot. You feel like a ghost, watching them prepare for a battle you’d been so desperate to avoid. A battle you tried to flee from. A battle you brought right down on them.

You glance back at Jungwon. He’s already bent over Heeseung’s map, pointing at something with a furrowed brow. His posture is tense, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. Even from here, you can see the weight on his shoulders, the burden he carries not just as their leader but as someone who cares too much.

Your chest tightens. You can’t tell if it’s guilt or anger—or maybe something messier than both.

He’s leaving the choice to you because he knows you. He knows you’d hate being told to stay, that forcing you would only drive you further away. But this, this silent permission to go—it feels worse. It feels like he’s already preparing himself for your absence. Like he’s already accepted that you might leave.

You tear your gaze away, your fists clenching at your sides. He’s giving you what you wanted. The freedom to walk away without confrontation. The chance to escape without tying yourself to their fate.

So why does it feel so wrong?

Just then, Jay approaches, his steps slower than usual, but his presence steady. “You look like shit,” he says flatly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“Could say the same thing about you, Jay,” you shoot back without thinking, the words slipping out with a touch of dry humour. Your chest tightens as you’re brought back to the moment on the roadside—the weight of his voice when he confronted you, the guilt that still lingers in your bones. You wonder if he knows just how close you came to leaving.

Jay tilts his head, studying you in that unnervingly perceptive way he has. “Come on,” he says finally, nodding toward the convenience store. “We can keep watch together on the roof.”

Your brow furrows. “Jungwon told you to stay inside.”

“Inside and on top, same thing,” Jay replies, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “At least on the roof, I get to feel somewhat useful.” He clicks his tongue, and there’s a stubborn edge to his tone that you know all too well.

“Jay,” you start, but he cuts you off, his gaze narrowing.

“Don’t start. I know my limits better than anyone, and sitting around waiting to feel like dead weight isn’t doing me any favours.” His voice is sharper now, but not angry. Just resolute. “You can watch my back if you’re so worried.”

You let out a quiet sigh, glancing toward the roof. He’s not wrong—at least up there, he’s out of harm’s way but still contributing. And truthfully, part of you is relieved for the company. You nod reluctantly. “Fine. But you’re not pulling anything heroic. Got it?”

Jay grins faintly, though the usual arrogance in his expression is muted. “I’ll leave the heroics to you this time.” His voice softens as he adds, “Come on, let’s go.”

The scent of the morning feels sharper now, almost intrusive, carried by the cool breeze that brushes over your face as you and Jay sit cross-legged on the roof. The faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds fill the silence between you. Both of you lean back against the convenience store sign, the metal cool against your shoulders.

“How’s recovery been?” you ask, your voice quiet as your gaze stays fixed on the horizon stretching endlessly past the rest stop.

“Good,” Jay replies, his tone nonchalant. “Thanks to the medicine you and Jungwon brought back. And, well, Jake, obviously.”

“So, it doesn’t hurt anymore?” you ask, glancing at him briefly, searching his face for any hint of dishonesty.

Jay lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? It was only two days ago. Of course, it still hurts like shit.”

A wave of guilt crashes over you, sharp and unrelenting. Of course, it hurts. He’s carrying the pain for both of you—for a bullet that was meant for you. Your chest tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out.

“I’m sorry.”

Jay turns to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “I told you, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fine, Jay,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with emotion. “You really could’ve died.”

“Yeah, if you were a little bit taller.” His lips twitch, and you can see him trying to hold it back. But it doesn’t last long before he bursts out laughing—a bright, unrestrained sound that feels almost alien in this grim world. The laughter cuts short, though, as he winces and curls in on himself, the pain from his wound quickly bringing him back to reality.

Your instinct is to reach out, but you hesitate, your hand hovering in the air before dropping back to your lap. “See? It’s not fine,” you mutter, your voice softer now.

Jay breathes through the pain, shaking his head with a faint grin still lingering on his face. “Worth it. That reaction was worth it.”

You stare at him for a moment, incredulous. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” Jay shoots back, his grin lingering, though the weariness in his voice cuts through the lightness. Then his expression shifts, something sharper and more knowing in his eyes. 

“This morning, you left, didn’t you?”

You freeze, the words hitting like a jolt to your chest. Of course you can count on Jay to call you out on your contrarian shit.  

You don’t answer right away, but the silence is all the confirmation he needs. “Yeah, I figured when I woke up and saw Jungwon sitting on the roof. Legs dangling over the edge, just staring at the horizon. Like he was waiting for something. Guess that something was you.”

Your chest tightens, and you turn your gaze back to the horizon. You want to say something, to deny it, but what’s the point? He already knows the truth.

“Did he say anything?” you ask cautiously, your voice quieter now. “Jungwon, I mean.”

Jay’s eyes flick to you, studying your face for a moment before he answers. “Not much. He’s not really the type to spill his guts, you know that.” He pauses, his gaze turning distant, like he’s replaying the memory in his mind. 

Jay continues, his tone lighter, but there’s an edge to it. “For what it’s worth, he didn’t look angry. Just… resigned, I guess. Like he already knew what you were going to do before you did.”

You exhale shakily, your fingers tightening around itself. “I didn’t mean to—” you start, but Jay cuts you off.

“I know,” he says, his voice softer now. “And so does he. Doesn’t mean it didn’t mess with him, though.”

His words land heavier than you expect, and you nod, swallowing hard as the guilt settles deeper into your chest. It’s a hollow ache, twisting and gnawing, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything else. The silence between you stretches thin, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of collapsing into the depths of your own self-loathing.

Jay, ever the mind reader, speaks up before you spiral. “But that just means he truly cares about you. That you bring him comfort and hope in a world that’s devoid of it.”

Hope. That word feels like an accusation, like it doesn’t belong anywhere near you.

"Why?” you whisper, barely able to hear your own voice. “Why does he care about me? I met you all barely over a week ago.”

“What about you?” he counters. “Why do you care?”

His question takes you off guard, echoing in your mind like a challenge. Why do you care? You left to avoid caring, to avoid the inevitability of their deaths, to avoid watching the world tear them away from you like it’s done to so many before. Yet, here you are, sitting on this roof, your chest tightening with every word, every thought.

You glance at Jay, his face calm but expectant, the faint lines of pain around his mouth betraying the effort it takes for him to even sit upright. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t have to. The weight of his question lingers in the air, demanding an answer you’re not ready to give.

“I shouldn’t care,” you say finally, the words falling flat. They feel like a shield, something to protect yourself from what you’re afraid to admit. “It’d be easier if I didn’t.”

Jay lets out a soft laugh, though it’s tinged with sadness. “Yeah, it would be. But that’s not who you are, is it?”

You don’t respond. Because he’s right, and you hate that he’s right. You hate that you care, that you couldn’t stop yourself from coming back, from throwing yourself into the fire again and again. You hate that their survival has somehow become entwined with your own, that you can’t even think about saving yourself without thinking about saving them.

Jay shifts slightly, wincing as he adjusts his position. “You care because you see it, don’t you?” he continues, his voice quiet now, almost gentle. “What we have here. It’s not perfect—it’s messy and dangerous, and it might not last. But it’s something. And for some reason, you want to protect that.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I came back because I knew what was coming,” you argue, more to yourself than to him. “Because if I didn’t warn you, you’d all be dead by midnight. That’s it. That’s the only reason.”

Jay tilts his head, studying you with an expression that feels far too knowing. “Sure,” he says, his tone neutral. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just exhaustion, and maybe a little bit of fear. Because you know he’s right. You look away, your gaze drifting back to the horizon. The beauty of it feels almost mocking, a cruel reminder of what you’re all trying to hold onto in a world determined to take it away.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to keep going when everything feels so... fragile. Like it could all fall apart any second.”

Jay’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks older, wearier. “None of us do,” he says simply. “We’re all just figuring it out as we go. Even Jungwon. But I guess he tries to hide that from the rest of us.”

“Why?” you ask, finally turning to look at him. “Why does he feel like he has to hide it?”

Jay leans back further against the convenience store sign, his expression heavy with something close to regret. “When things fell apart, we were all with him at his new university. We were stuck there—trapped with him. And Jungwon...” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think he blames himself for that. Like it was his fault we were there instead of safe at home with our families when it all started.”

You’re reminded of your first real conversation with Jungwon, the way he spoke about the group as if their survival was entirely his responsibility. He hadn’t said it outright, but now, hearing it from Jay, it all makes sense. The guilt he carries, the sleepless nights, the endless drive to keep moving forward—it’s all because of them. Because of what he believes he owes them.

“He really thinks it’s his fault?” you murmur, half to yourself.

Jay nods, his gaze distant. “Yeah. But it’s not. We wanted to be there. We wanted to stay. Hell, we probably made it harder for him by refusing to leave. And now, we’re his reason to keep going.” He lets out a quiet laugh, but it’s hollow, lacking any real humour. 

You don’t say anything, letting Jay continue. You can tell he’s speaking from a place that’s deeper than his usual wit, pulling from a well of memories he rarely lets anyone see.

“Somewhere along the way, we just… started relying on him,” Jay says. “On his reassurance, his direction. It wasn’t even intentional. It just… happened. Even someone like me, who hates showing weakness—I faltered. When it happened. When she died.” His voice cracks slightly, and he swallows hard before continuing. “And I would go to him, night after night, just so I can fall asleep. Because his presence brought me that comfort. That feeling that everything might be okay, even when I knew it wouldn’t be.”

Jay’s gaze flicks to you, his expression distant, as though he’s caught between the past and the present. “He does it because it’s in his nature. He feels like he has to carry us, all of us, because we’re still here. That’s just who he is. He’ll carry the world on his shoulders if it means we can breathe a little easier. But it made me realise… Jungwon probably gets scared too. He probably has countless sleepless nights, only he has nobody to lean on.”

You stare at Jay, his words settling over you like a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to bear. The breeze brushes past, carrying with it the faint scent of morning dew, but even that isn’t enough to distract you from the raw honesty in his voice.

You’re quiet for a moment, processing his words. Then Jay’s voice softens even more, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Well, until you came along.”

That catches you off guard. “Me?” you echo, frowning slightly. “What are you talking about?”

Jay tilts his head, his expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “You’re really going to pretend you don’t see it? The way he looks at you. The way he listens when you speak, even when you’re arguing. Especially when you’re arguing.”

You do. You do see it. Only you didn't think it was that significant for someone else to notice it too. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you.

Jay raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Come on. You’re not that dense. The guy practically lights up when you’re around. Even when you’re pissing him off.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat.  “He doesn’t need me,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “He’s strong enough on his own. He always has been.”

Jay lets out a low, disbelieving laugh. “That’s the thing. He doesn’t need you to carry him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you. You’re not taking away his strength; you’re giving him a reason to keep using it.”

“Don’t underestimate the kind of relief you bring him,” Jay says firmly. “He’s been carrying all of us for so long, I don’t think he realised how much he needed someone to push back. To challenge him. To make him feel like he doesn’t have to carry it all on his own.”

You glance at Jay, his expression serious now, his usual smirk replaced with something softer. “Why are you telling me this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because someone has to,” he replies simply. “And because I know you care about him, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than before, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable. It settles between you like a fragile truce, delicate but unbroken. Which is surprising, considering you’re having a heart-to-heart with Jay, of all people.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, half-expecting some sarcastic remark or a biting joke to cut through the moment. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his gaze fixes on the horizon. His profile, usually so sharp and full of defiance, seems softer now, like the weight of the conversation has smoothed out his edges.

“You know,” you start, breaking the silence, “you remind me of someone from the community building.”

Jay glances at you, curious. He notices your attempt to change the topic but he doesn't call you out on it. “Yeah? I bet they were a real charmer.”

You snort, shaking your head. “No, he was an idiot. But it’s something about the way neither of you know how to sugarcoat your words. That brutal honesty, whether anyone’s ready for it or not.”

Jay chuckles, the sound low and surprisingly genuine. “Well, I hope he’s thriving and doesn’t have a gaping hole in his side.”

“Yeah, well… he was a real troublemaker,” you say, your tone growing more reflective. “Got into all sorts of shit before everything fell apart. He was one of those kids the adults would always shake their heads at. A ‘bad influence,’ they’d say. But I went on a few supply runs with him, so I got to know him better. Yeah, he was reckless, stubborn, and constantly looking for trouble, but he was a nice guy deep down. Helped me out of a few tight spots.”

“He had a little sister. Around four years old when it started,” you continue, your voice lowering. “She was everything to him. No matter how much of a mess he was, he took care of her like his life depended on it. You could see it in the way he looked at her, the way he’d always make sure she had enough food or that she wasn’t scared.”

You pause, the memory sharp and painful. Jay’s quiet, sensing that there’s more to the story. His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t interrupt, letting you take your time.

“One day, there was this fight. Between him and an older man in the building. It got… bad. Heated. I don’t even know what it was about anymore—something stupid, probably. Everyone was watching, caught up in the chaos, and I guess no one noticed his sister trying to stop them. She ran in, got caught in the middle.” Your voice falters, and you swallow hard before continuing. “She got pushed. Fell against the edge of a table. Her skull… cracked open.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the memory presses down on you, and you can feel Jay’s gaze on you, quiet and steady.

“At first, he was devastated,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Grief just… swallowed him whole. But then, something shifted. His entire demeanour changed. He didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He just… got up, grabbed the man who’d pushed her, and dragged him outside. Fed him to the dead. No hesitation. After that, he left. Never saw him again.”

Jay exhales slowly, leaning forward slightly. “What’s the moral of the story?” he asks, his voice careful, like he’s testing the waters.

“I guess…” you hesitate, trying to put your thoughts into words. “I guess I’m afraid of becoming like him. Detached. Insane. Letting grief consume me to the point where I’m not even me anymore. I still remember his eyes that day, when he dragged that man outside. It was like… everything human about him was gone. And I don’t want that to happen to me.”

Jay watches you closely, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he asks the question you’ve been dreading. “Is that why you left? Because you were scared to face what you’d lose?”

You flinch, the truth hitting you like a slap to the face. “Yeah,” you admit, your voice trembling. 

“Do you think he made it?” he asks suddenly, his gaze still fixed you.

You blink, caught off guard by the question. It’s not one you’ve ever let yourself think about, not in detail. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice hesitant. “I think about it sometimes. Whether he found somewhere safe, whether he made it out of the city alive... but I guess I’ll never know.”

“Do you think you would’ve done the same? If it had been you?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. You hesitate, but only for a moment. Because deep down, you already know the answer.

“Yes,” you say quietly, the weight of the admission settling deep in your chest. Your fingers curl into your palms, your throat tightening.

“I think I would’ve done the same thing. And that’s what makes it worse.”

Jay nods slowly, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingers on you, as if weighing something in his mind.

“There are some things in the universe that are just out of our control,” he says, staring up at the sky like the answers might be written in the clouds. “Like the weather, for example, or who your parents are. And when things go wrong, it’s easy to say, ‘It was out of my hands,’ or ‘There’s nothing I could’ve done about it.’”

Jay’s voice is steady, measured, but there’s something raw underneath it, something that makes you listen even though you don’t want to. He glances at you then, his expression unreadable. “But when you do have control over something—when you actually could have done something, but you choose not to—and then you lose control? That’s worse. That’s so much worse.”

Your fingers curl into your palms, nails biting into skin, but you don’t stop him.

“Because this time, you actually had a hand in it,” Jay continues, his voice quieter now. “Not doing anything about it, knowing what you could’ve done to prevent it—that thought consumes you. It haunts you in your sleep, over and over again. And I think, deep down, you already know this.” He lets out a soft breath, shaking his head slightly. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have come back.”

“Human emotions are fickle. And more often than not, we’re driven by the negative ones,” Jay muses. “Anger, fear, guilt, regret, grief. I mean, it’s hard not to be when you’re forced into a world where the undead is constantly trying to eat you.” He huffs a quiet, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“But the one thing stronger than all of those emotions? Hope.”

He says it so simply, like it’s a fact, like it’s something undeniable. Like he knows you've been grappling with this dilemma.

You want to deny. You really really want to.

“It’s a funny thing, hope,” Jay says, looking back at you now. “You can’t survive without it—not really. It’s the one thing that keeps people moving forward, that makes them cling to life even when it feels impossible. In the apocalypse, you can never have too much hope. Because it’s all we have left.”

His gaze sharpens, like he’s making sure you’re listening.

“That includes each other.”

The lump in your throat grows tighter.

“We’re hope for one another,” Jay says, his voice unwavering. “You’re hope for us. And we damn well need to be hope for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, turning your head away. You stare down at your scraped hands as Jay’s words settle deep into your bones, into every part of yourself you’ve spent so long trying to shut off. You hate hope. You fear it.

Jay leans back against the sign, watching you carefully. He doesn’t press, doesn’t rush you. He just lets you sit with your thoughts, lets you process.

Eventually, you find your voice, though it comes out quieter than you expect. “But you only feel those negative emotions when you hope. Hope sucks the life out of people. Hope gives people false reassurance. People lose all sense of logic just to hold onto hope and yet, it's hope that makes the pain so much more excruciating when it's ripped away from you. You’re only disappointed because you hope. Too much hope is dangerous.” You don't even realise you've been raising your voice until you're done.

Jay huffs out a small, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s a paradox, isn’t it? This fragile, beautiful thing that’s supposed to keep us alive is also the thing that can destroy us.” His voice is steady, thoughtful. “Hope is the spark that ignites negative emotions—but it twists them into something else. Something with purpose.

“Anger, fuelled by hope, becomes determination. Fear, tied to hope, becomes caution. Guilt and regret, tethered to hope, becomes redemption. Grief, woven into hope, becomes strength.”

You flinch at that, but Jay doesn’t let up. “Without hope, those emotions are just weights dragging you down, holding you back. But with it, they’re a reason to fight. A reason to survive.”

“Hope is what gives meaning to every choice, every sacrifice. It’s what makes us human.”

You stare at him, your throat tightening. The words claw at something deep in you, something you’ve spent so long trying to bury. 

“And that’s the cruel irony of it all,” Jay continues, his voice quieter now. “Because hope is also the thing that hurts the most. The thing that leaves you raw, vulnerable to disappointment and despair when it’s inevitably taken away. But even knowing that, we can’t let it go. Because without hope, what’s left?”

His gaze flickers to you then, sharp and knowing. “Not you,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “And definitely not me.”

Jay’s words settle into you like a slow, creeping ache—one you can’t ignore, no matter how much you want to. They seep into the cracks, the ones you’ve spent so long trying to patch over, the ones you told yourself didn’t exist.

And for the first time in a conversation with Jay, you have no response.

You know he’s right. But it hurts—because hope is also the reason you’re here. The reason you turned back. The reason you’re sitting on this rooftop, trying to make sense of the war that rages inside you.

Hope, in the apocalypse, is both a necessity and a curse—and that contradiction is what makes it so powerful.

If you hadn't seen what you saw, you would have been long gone by now. You would’ve walked away with the comfortable lie that they’d be fine, that they’d beat the odds like they always do, that their naive faith in safety would somehow be rewarded.

But you know the truth now. And the truth doesn’t allow you the luxury of ignorance. Because they’re not okay. They won’t be okay.

Not unless you do something.

Leaving now—knowing what’s coming—wouldn’t just make you a coward. It would make you complicit in their deaths. It would mean standing by while the world tears them apart, pretending it isn’t your problem.

And you know yourself well enough to understand exactly how that would end. A lifetime of guilt. A lifetime of knowing you could have done something but chose not to. That guilt would fester inside you, wear you down, strip you bare until there’s nothing left of you that’s worth saving. Until the world finally wins.

And either way—whether you leave or stay—you’re not going to come out of this intact. You’re already too deep, too tangled in it all.

So you choose the path that has even the smallest, most fragile hope of something good coming out of it.

In the end, you chose hope. 

And hope guided you back to them.

The silence between you and Jay stretches for another half-hour, comfortable in a way that doesn’t demand words. There’s no need to fill the space with forced conversation, no pressure to dissect the weight of everything you’ve just talked about. Just the two of you, sitting side by side, watching the horizon as if it holds the answers neither of you have.

Occasionally, your gaze drifts downward, taking in the organised chaos of the camp below. The others move with purpose, their figures threading seamlessly through the makeshift fortifications, pulling them together, binding them to one another. Binding you to them.

Your eyes find Jungwon without meaning to. He’s hunched over a roughly drawn map with Heeseung, tracing escape routes with a furrowed brow. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight, his entire body braced as if the sheer weight of their survival rests on his shoulders alone. Heeseung says something, pointing at a different spot on the map, and Jungwon nods, his fingers tightening around the paper.

You wonder what he’s thinking. If he truly believes they have a chance, or if he’s just convincing himself to. Because no matter how much you try to push it away, the doubt creeps in before you can stop it. It slithers through the cracks in your resolve, wrapping around your thoughts like a noose.

The horde is too big.

There’s no way this place will hold against it.

Even if you get past the first wave, they’ll surround the camp before you even get the chance to turn around and leave.

You press your lips together, gripping the edge of the roof so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The old wood groans under the pressure, but the sound is drowned out by the weight pressing down on your chest.

It’s a losing battle.

You know it. They must know it too.

But then, you look closer. The exhaustion on their faces is unmistakable. The shadows under their eyes, the weariness in their shoulders, the way Sunghoon drags a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as if trying to breathe the tension out of his body.

They don’t fully believe this will work. Not really.

But they’re trying anyway.

Because what else is there to do? Give up? Lay down and wait to be torn apart? No. That’s not who they are.

And despite the gnawing dread in your stomach, you realise—it’s not who you are either.

Just then, panicked voices rise from directly beneath you, coming from a blind spot you can’t see. Your body tenses instinctively as your ears strain to make sense of the commotion. 

Jay stiffens beside you, his head snapping toward the sound. You exchange a knowing look, silent but immediate in your understanding—something’s wrong.

You focus, trying to visualise the situation in your head, piecing together what you can hear against what you can’t see. The sharp edges of alarm in the voices. The sound of someone struggling. A threat, spoken with dangerous intent.

Your eyes flick to Jungwon. His expression is tight, unreadable at first—until you notice the tinge of worry, the fear etched just beneath the surface as his gaze locks onto the entrance of the convenience store.

You’re already counting heads.

Jungwon. Heeseung. Jake. Sunghoon. Ni-ki. Jay, beside you.

Your stomach twists.

Where’s Sunoo?

Before you can say anything, a voice cuts through the tense silence. A voice you don't recognise.

“I know there’s two more,” the stranger calls out, their tone sharp with authority. “You’d better show yourselves before I do something to this boy.”

The world around you stills.

Your breath catches.

Sunoo.

You and Jay exchange another glance, this time urgent, alarm bells ringing in both of your heads. Without hesitation, you inch closer to the edge, careful not to make a sound as you peer over.

Your worst fears are confirmed.

Sunoo stands frozen in the doorway of the convenience store, his hands raised slightly, his posture rigid with fear. His chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, his eyes darting toward Jungwon—toward all of them—searching for an escape that doesn’t exist.

Behind him, partially obscured by the pillars, you catch a glimpse of someone else—an outsider. A woman, dressed in ragged clothing with a cloak draped over her frame. Yet, despite her tattered appearance, her stance radiates a quiet, dangerous confidence that sends every instinct in your body on high alert. With one hand, she presses a pistol firmly against the back of Sunoo’s head, keeping him locked in place.

She’s inside the rest stop. How?

Then it hits you.

She’s been here. Probably ever since you arrived. Hiding. Watching. Acting as a spy for your attackers.

Jungwon’s expression remains unreadable, but you see the tension in his shoulders, the slight tremor in his fingers. He takes a slow step forward, his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. His voice is calm, measured.

“You’re outnumbered. Are you sure you want to do this?” He tilts his head slightly, eyes locked onto hers. “Let him go, and we can talk.”

The woman doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“I said show yourself,” she orders, her voice sharp, unwavering. “You have ten seconds.”

And then she starts counting.

"Ten."

Your gaze flicks to Jay.

What should we do?

"Nine."

Jay’s jaw tightens.

Let’s wait it out.

"Eight."

Your stomach knots.

And what if she shoots him?

"Seven."

Jay exhales sharply, weighing the risk.

I don’t think she will. She’s outnumbered.

"Six."

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

She’s bluffing.

"Five. I’m really going to do it."

Your breath catches.

She’s not bluffing.

"Four."

Jay hesitates.

She has nothing to lose.

"Three—"

“Alright, we’re coming out.”

The words leave your lips before you fully process them. Your arms lift above your head, palms open, your body moving before your mind can tell you to stop. Slowly, carefully, you begin your descent from the roof.

Jungwon’s eyes flicker to you the moment your feet touch the ground, but he doesn’t say anything. His jaw tightens, his fingers twitch slightly at his side. You know he doesn’t like this, but what other choice do you have? You had seconds to decide—risk Sunoo’s life, or give her what she wants.

Your boots hit the pavement, dust kicking up beneath you as you step forward, keeping your hands where she can see them. Jay lands behind you, slower, deliberate. You sense the stiffness in his movements, the way his breathing subtly shifts as he fights to keep himself from wincing. He’s trying not to show it, but he’s still weak.

She can’t know that.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” the woman sneers, swaying the pistol trained on Sunoo. He flinches but doesn’t make a sound, though you can see the tension in his frame, the fear flickering in his eyes. He’s trying to be brave. You need to be braver.

You and Jay stop a few paces away, keeping the distance just wide enough to not seem like a threat. Jungwon, Heeseung, and the others remain still—coiled like springs, waiting for the right moment. Looking for an opening. But you know there might not be one.

A chill creeps down your spine, slithering like ice through your veins, settling deep in your bones. You swallow hard, forcing air into your lungs. Stay calm. Stay in control.

The air around you feels thick, suffocating in its stillness. Each breath is laced with tension, heavy with unspoken words, unspoken fears. Your fingers twitch at your sides, hovering near your weapon, but you don’t dare move—not yet. One wrong twitch, one flinch in the wrong direction, and the woman’s finger might tighten around the trigger.

Then, as if the universe is offering you a cruel favour, a faint breeze stirs the stagnant air, cutting through the oppressive heat and unsettling the dust beneath your feet. The edges of the woman’s tattered cloak flutter with the movement, lifting for the briefest moment.

But it’s enough.

Your breath catches and your gaze snaps to the sight beneath the ragged material, to the place where her left forearm should be.

A stump.

Jagged, uneven, the skin around it healed but rough—evidence of a wound that wasn’t treated with care. A makeshift bandage barely holds in place, frayed from time and neglect.

Your mind races, the implications hitting you like a blow to the chest. 

She’s injured. She’s weaker than she wants you to believe.

The realisation strikes you hard, but before you can fully register how to use it against her, a voice cuts through the tension.

“Hey, I know you.”

It’s Jake.

His tone isn’t hesitant, but certain—sharp enough to make the woman’s smirk falter ever so slightly.

“You do now?” The woman regains her composure quickly, her smirk returning as she idly plays with the safety of her pistol, flicking it on and off, the quiet click-click-click filling the charged silence.

Jake doesn’t flinch. “Lieutenant Kim Minseol. Ammunition Command. You’re part of The Future.”

His words send a ripple of confusion through the group.

Jungwon stiffens beside you, his gaze sharpening as he scrutinises the woman up and down, searching for recognition in her face. The others exchange uneasy glances, but Jake keeps his eyes locked on her.

“I remember you,” he continues, voice controlled but unwavering. “A few weeks before our escape, you came into the treatment facility with a fresh stump on your left arm. It was because of your absence that we were able to sneak into the supply depot.”

For a brief moment, something flickers in her expression. A shadow of something sinister, something ugly. Then she lets out a hollow, bitter laugh.

“What a good memory you have there, Doctor Sim.” The mockery drips from her words, but beneath it, there’s a tightness—like the words taste sour in her mouth.

Jake doesn’t react, his expression carefully guarded.

And then her smirk disappears altogether.

“But you’re wrong about the first part,” she says, her voice dropping lower, losing its feigned amusement. “I was part of The Future. Until they expelled me. Said resources were running low. But of course, that’s because someone helped themselves to six months' worth of supplies.” Her gaze sweeps over all of you, sharp and knowing.

A chill settles over the group.

“It’s not our fault,” Heeseung says evenly, though there’s a tightness in his jaw, a flicker of tension beneath his composed exterior. His gaze shifts—almost unconsciously—to her left arm, lingering for just a second too long. “They would’ve expelled you anyway. For your… unfortunate disability.”

Her head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Someone of my rank would still be valuable enough to keep around, even with my unfortunate disability,” she counters, her tone dripping with cold certainty.

The click of a pistol’s safety disengaging slices through the silence. Sunoo flinches, his breath catching as the muzzle digs harder against his skull.

“You think I’m lying?” Her voice sharpens like a blade, each syllable cutting through the air with precision. “Then what about the dozens of able-bodied men and women they cast out with me?” Her eyes sweep over the group, daring anyone to challenge her, to deny the truth she’s laying before them.

“What excuse do they have?”

No one answers.

“How did you end up here?” you ask, grasping for something, anything to keep the upper hand.

The woman lets out a scoff. “What? Didn’t think a lady with a stump could survive this long?” she sneers. “I was military for a reason, you know. And lucky for the group of us that got expelled, we ran into A.” Her smirk widens, something cruel glinting in her eyes. “Who just so happened to have a long-standing unresolved affair with one… of… you.”

Her gaze sweeps the group deliberately, before landing on Jay.

It lingers.

Your breath stills.

Is she talking about him? About the man Jay went after?

Your head snaps to Jay instinctively, and sure enough, you see it—the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the sharp clench of his jaw. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, but that’s all the confirmation you need.

You keep your voice even, biting back the unease bubbling in your gut. “Did A suggest you lot dress up as freaks too?” you taunt, eyeing the grotesque remnants of the dead clinging to her clothes.

Her smirk doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens.

“Call it whatever you want,” she purrs, rolling her shoulders back, “but it’s kept us alive.” There’s something almost reverent in the way she says it. “It’s what got us this sanctuary of a rest stop.”

Sanctuary. The word makes your stomach churn.

The woman gestures around like she’s unveiling some grand conquest, her voice thick with smug satisfaction. “The Future didn’t see what was coming when we rolled over this place. They never even put up a fight.” She shakes her head, laughing—mocking. “That’s how confident they were in this place. That sure of their survival.”

She spreads her arms wide, as if to drive the point home. “And just like that, they left all this behind! For us, of course.” Her eyes gleams with something almost predatory, as she levels her gaze at you. “Not you.”

She’s getting caught up in her own villain monologue. She’s getting cocky.

“‘The Future are monsters.’” She spits the words out like they taste bitter on her tongue. “It’s easy to just say that, isn’t it?” She lets out a mocking laugh, one filled with more exhaustion than humour.

“Have you ever considered that some of us were just doing what we were told? That we were just trying to survive?”

Silence.

Then, her smirk fades, replaced with something colder. 

“Bet you didn’t think stealing wouldn’t have any implications on the rest of us, did you?” Her grip on the pistol tightens, her knuckles turning white.

“Did you?” she repeats, quieter this time, but the threat behind it is unmistakable.

The weight of her words settles over the group like a thick fog, suffocating in its quiet accusation.

She’s right.

They had never stopped to think about what had happened to the people they left behind. The ones who weren’t part of The Future’s elite, the ones who had simply been following orders. The ones who weren’t cruel enough, strong enough, useful enough to be worth keeping around.

And when they took those six months of supplies, when they ran, they might not have pulled the trigger on those people themselves—

But they might as well have.

It’s a sickening realisation.

The Future is a tyrant military organisation. That much is true. But tyrants don’t survive without followers, without structure, without soldiers willing to do anything to keep their people alive.

Isn’t that exactly what they’ve been doing?

Taking what they can. Keeping their own alive, even if it means condemning someone else.

The guilt twists in your stomach like a knife. You feel it rippling through the others too. She leans in ever so slightly, her lips curling into something almost gentle—but the pistol pressing into Sunoo’s skull tells a different story.

“You see it now, don’t you?” she murmurs, tilting her head. “The hypocrisy. The way you tell yourselves you’re different.”

“You’re no different from The Future.”

“And now you’re back,” she continues, voice like poisoned honey. “Trying to steal something that isn’t yours, again.”

The shift in the air is almost tangible. It’s subtle, like a silent crack forming in a foundation that had once seemed unbreakable—but it’s there.

You see it in the way Jake’s shoulders slump just slightly, in the way Sunghoon’s lips press into a thin line, in the way Heeseung’s gaze flickers to the ground like he can’t quite meet anyone’s eyes, in the way Ni-ki’s jaw is clenched so tight it looks like it might shatter, in the way Jay’s hands twitch at his sides, in the way Sunoo disassociates even with a gun pointed at his head, and among them is Jungwon’s gaze—still sharp and unreadable.

It’s setting in—the weight of her words, the seed of doubt she’s planted.

Because she’s not just threatening them. She’s challenging everything they’ve told themselves to keep going.

The belief that they’re different.

That they’re good.

That, somehow, their survival is more justified than anyone else’s.

But survival is never clean, is it? And now that she has said it, now that she’s painted that picture in their minds, you can see them starting to crumble.

These people—your people—their sole reason for fighting is the belief that they are not monsters. That they are not like The Future, or A, or the ones who take and take and take without looking back.

But now, faced with the consequences of their own actions, you watch that belief fracture.

They’re breaking.

She sees it.

And she revels in it.

This has been her goal all along—to make them doubt themselves. Because a group that doubts itself is a group that falls apart from the inside.

You need to stop this. Now.

“Then let’s talk about what is yours, Lieutenant,” you say, keeping your voice steady, sharp. “Tell me—what exactly did you earn?”

Her smirk falters, just barely. But you catch it.

“What?”

“You and the others,” you press, eyes locked onto hers. “Did you build this place? Did you earn the supplies you’re hoarding? Did you put in the work to secure it?”

Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something, but you don’t give her the chance.

“No,” you answer for her. “You stole it. Just like The Future stole from the people before them. Just like we stole to survive.”

Her fingers twitch.

Good.

“You think you’re better than us?” you continue, pressing the words forward like a knife slipping between ribs. “You took this place the same way we would’ve if we’d gotten here first. Yet, you’re walking around acting like it's your birthright.”

Her expression darkens, her grip on the pistol tightening, but you don’t miss the way her jaw clenches.

A flicker of something shifts through the group.

They exchange glances, the tension easing just slightly, as if your words—blunt and unforgiving—have cracked through the air of helplessness surrounding them. Jungwon’s stare flickers between you and the woman, the gears in his head turning, assessing, waiting for her next move.

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with unspoken truths and fractured justifications.

Then, she speaks.

“We did steal,” she admits, her voice low, sharp, controlled.

Her head tilts, dark eyes locking onto yours, something almost amused flickering in them despite the rage simmering beneath her skin.

“But the difference between us—” she leans in slightly, voice dipping into something razor-thin, something meant to cut, “—is that you’re parading around, pretending you have some kind of moral high ground.”

And this time, it’s your turn to flinch. It takes everything in you to keep your face blank, to not let her see the way her accusation burrows under your skin like a splinter.

Because she’s right. They all know it.

Survival was never about who deserved to live. It was about taking. About seizing what you could before someone else did. About carving out a space in a world that no longer cared who was good, who was bad, who had once been kind.

Because kindness doesn’t keep you alive. Compassion doesn’t put food in your hands or a weapon in your grip. Morality doesn’t stop the teeth that tear through flesh or the hands that pull the trigger.

And if you’re all the same—if you’re all monsters—then what’s left?

There’s only one answer.

Whoever wins.

The only law that exists now is power.

Not justice. Not fairness. Not mercy.

Just power.

And the only ones who get to live in this world are the ones strong enough to take it for themselves.

Survival of the fittest.

That’s what the world was before, and it’s what the world is now. Only now, the stakes are higher. Much higher.

Because before, losing meant failure.

Now? It means death.

And if you hesitate, if you second-guess, if you let yourself be weighed down by the ghost of a world that no longer exists—

You’ll lose.

And the world won’t mourn you. It won’t stop. It won’t care. It will keep turning, indifferent to the bodies left behind, to the names that fade into nothing.

Because nothing from before matters anymore.

Not the rules. Not the morals. Not the person you used to be. You can no longer afford to hold on to the past.

Because the past won’t save you.

Only the future will.

And the only way to have a future—is to take it.

"You think you’ll make it out of here alive if you pull that trigger?” you challenge her, forcing your voice to remain calm, steady. She tilts her head, lips curling into something almost amused as she meets your eyes.

“You should’ve left when you had the chance,” she says, completely disregarding your threat. The blood in your veins turns cold. 

“But who knows? Maybe A will let some of you go. Like what we did with The Future,” she continues, leaning in slightly, as if daring you to flinch. “Let them scurry back to HQ like little mice. So they know to never come back here again.”

Her grin widens, twisting into something cruel. “And now that you’re here, fallen right into our trap, you’ll soon be one of us!” She laughs, the sound sharp and jagged, like glass shattering in the quiet.

Never come back here again…

Soon be one of us…?

The words settle like a stone in your chest. And then, like a curtain being pulled back, you see it—the bigger picture.

She’s laughing. She thinks she’s won. But she doesn't realise what she's just given away.

If A and his people wanted you dead, they wouldn’t have resorted to games. They wouldn’t have wasted time luring you into an ambush or toying with you—not with all these guns and ammos at their disposal. No, they would’ve wiped you out back at that forest clearing when they had the chance. 

They haven’t. They insist on bringing the dead down on you—because they have an ulterior motive. 

They don’t want you dead. They want you alive. 

Why? 

Because only when you’re alive—when you’re standing, breathing, fighting—can you turn. Turn into the very army of the dead they control. Become one of them.

That’s why they let The Future walk away. Not out of mercy. Not because they couldn’t fight them. But because they didn’t need to. The Future was never the target—you were. They wanted you to lead the others right back here. They’ve been waiting for this moment.

And The Future? The Future won’t come back. Not for revenge. Not for a counterattack. They cut their losses and retreated—not because they were outnumbered, not because they were weak, but because they were unaware.

They didn’t understand what they were fighting. They couldn’t defend against something they had no clue how to fight. They knew they couldn’t stand against an enemy that moves undetected through hordes of the dead. Couldn’t win against an army that grows stronger with every person it kills.

So they ran.

But you? You don’t have to. Because you know exactly what’s coming.

And now, standing in the heart of what should have been your own grave, you see it—hope. This place isn’t just a temporary solution. It’s an opportunity.

If A and his people could take this place, then so can you. If they could push out The Future, then there’s a way to do the same to them. And if they could survive out there, using the dead as shields and weapons, then you can find a way to use it against them.

Your fingers tighten into fists.

If you secure this place, they’ll never have to run again.

Not from A. Not from The Future. Not from anyone.

You let out a slow breath, forcing your heartbeat to steady as you shift your stance, eyes locking onto hers.

She thinks she’s won. Thinks she’s backed you all into a corner. But she’s just handed you everything you needed to know.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the barest hint of a smirk to tug at your lips. “What makes you so confident we can’t just take it from you?”

Her smirk holds firm, but you catch the slightest twitch in her expression—just for a second. “Oh?” she muses, arching a brow. “I’d love to see you try going up against military-trained personnel and a horde of zombies. It’ll be fun.”

You shrug, feigning indifference. “Who said anything about confrontation?” You let the words hang in the air, watching carefully as confusion flickers across her face. “If you lot figured out how to walk with the dead, why can’t we do the same?”

For the first time, her bravado falters. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and there it is—realisation and doubt all at once. Almost like she had never thought about it. Which makes sense because you finding out about their mechanics, isn't part of their plan.

That hesitation—that moment of uncertainty—is all Sunoo needs.

He moves in a blur, striking before she even registers what’s happening. His fingers close around her wrist, twisting sharply as he wrenches the gun from her grip. It clatters to the floor with a thud, and in a single fluid motion, Sunoo has her pinned.

She lets out a sharp grunt, struggling against his hold, but she’s at a disadvantage—distracted, handicapped, unarmed.

And just like that, the tides turn. Sunghoon is on her in seconds, his knee pressing into her back as he yanks her arm behind her. The fight drains from her quickly, the weight of the situation finally sinking in.

You exhale, the adrenaline still buzzing beneath your skin, your mind racing through every possibility.

This place can be yours.

They don’t have to run anymore.

Hope is starting to take root.

“Fools. You think it’s easy? Walking among the dead?” she sneers, her voice laced with mockery despite the fact she’s sprawled face-down on the cold, hard floor. Sunghoon’s hands move swiftly over her, searching for any hidden weapons. 

“It takes everything you are to walk with the dead.”

There’s something unsettling in the way she says it, something almost reverent. Like she’s speaking of a religion rather than survival.

Sunoo scoffs, standing over her with her pistol now in his hands. He checks the magazine, clicks the safety on and off before shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, keep talking, lady. It’s not getting you anywhere.”

But she just smirks. That same infuriating smirk that hasn’t left her face since the moment she was caught. She’s lying completely still now, unnaturally calm as Sunghoon and Heeseung haul her up onto a chair. She doesn’t resist—not even when they start binding her arms—or whatever's left of it—tightly behind her, securing the coarse rope around her torso and the back of the chair. If anything, she lets them.

"I've really underestimated you, Y/N." Her voice drips with amusement, her lips curling into something eerily close to admiration, but there’s something sharper beneath it—something darker. "You’re not just similar—you’re just like us. Conniving. Merciless. Dead."

She giggles then, a sound too light, too mocking for the weight of her words, for the quiet horror settling deep in your chest. "You might not even need to wear their skin to walk with the dead."

A chill slithers down your spine, but you force yourself to hold her gaze, to not give her the satisfaction of seeing how deeply her words sink in. Heeseung pulls the final knot tight, the rough rope biting into her skin, binding her in place. Yet, she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t struggle. She just leans back, head resting against the chair, exhaling like she’s settling in, like she’s making herself comfortable rather than sitting bound and at your mercy.

As if she’s the one in control.

"But don’t say I didn’t warn you," she murmurs, her voice almost singsong, a taunting lilt woven through her words. They linger in the space between you, curling like smoke, seeping under your skin. The room feels too quiet now, as if the weight of what she just said has stolen all the air from it.

She tilts her head slightly, her eyes gleaming—not with anger, not with fear, but with something worse. Something that almost looks like pity.

"You’ll understand what I mean soon."

The smirk widens. It stretches across her face, slow and deliberate. You stare at it for too long—long enough for Ni-ki to shove a loose piece of cloth into her mouth, silencing whatever cryptic words she might have let slip next.

But her eyes remain fixed on you, unwavering. Cold. Calculating.

You can’t look away.

Something about the way she’s staring at you feels wrong. Like she’s seeing straight through you, past the layers you’ve built, past the walls you’ve tried to keep up. Like she’s already figured you out before you’ve even figured out yourself. Like she knows exactly how this will play out, and you don’t.

In that sense, you’re already losing. Not in the way you expected—not in battle, not in blood, not in death. But in yourself. Because you can feel it, can sense it creeping in at the edges of your mind, curling into your thoughts, whispering where doubt used to be.

You’ve already begun losing yourself.

It’s only when someone calls you over that you manage to tear your gaze away, the spell breaking.

“What the fuck happened, Sunoo? Where did she come from?” Heeseung demands the second they’re out of earshot, his voice low but urgent.

Sunoo, however, huffs, dramatically rubbing at his wrist as if he’s the real victim here. “Geez, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he grumbles.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Sunoo.”

“I was in the basement,” Sunoo starts, crossing his arms, “looking for anything we could use to fortify the barricades. Found this stack of those things—the masks—hidden away in one of the boxes shoved in the corner. Thought, great, more nightmare fuel. And then—bam! She jumped me out of fucking nowhere. How the fuck was I supposed to know she was there?”

His frustration is evident, his gestures exaggerated as he recounts the moment. “If I had known, her one-armed bitchass wouldn’t have even been able to pull that gun on me like that. Ugh.”

The irritation in his voice doesn’t quite mask the underlying unease. She had been down there the whole time—hidden, watching, waiting. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling of being watched.

And yet, you left them here. With her.

A chill runs down your spine. The weight of realisation presses against your ribs, suffocating, threatening to pull you under. But before your mind can spiral further, you hear it—your name.

Spoken by the very voice you’ve been yearning to hear call out your name since you left.

“Y/N.”

Jungwon.

“Are you okay?”

Your breath catches as you turn to face him. His expression is unreadable at first, but his eyes—his eyes betray him. There’s worry there, concern woven into the fabric of his gaze, despite everything. Despite the fight. Despite the fact that you left. You walked away. And yet, here he is, standing before you, asking if you’re okay.

He still cares.

You don’t trust your voice. You’re afraid it’ll betray you, that it’ll crack under the sheer force of everything you’re feeling. That if you try to speak, all that will come out will be fragments of whimpers, of apologies left unsaid.

So instead, you nod. A small, barely perceptible movement. The best you can offer.

Jungwon watches you for a moment, searching. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he nods back. A silent exchange. An understanding.

“Y/N… did you really mean that?” Ni-ki’s voice cuts through the thick tension, pulling your attention away from Jungwon. You turn to him, barely registering the weight of his question. Your mind is still foggy, reeling from everything.

“You think we can walk with the dead?” Ni-ki presses, his gaze unwavering.

“I—I don’t know.” The words feel hollow in your mouth, the uncertainty hanging in the air like a guillotine. Your eyes drop to the ground, unable to meet his stare. “I’m sorry, I just—I always say shit, but half the time, I don’t even know if it’ll work.”

A beat of silence. Then, you swallow hard, forcing yourself to push through the self-doubt. “But… I have seen them do it. They blend in with just a mask over their heads. It can work.”

“But once they get inside the walls, it’s going to be chaos. It’ll be dark. We’ll probably lose sight of one another. You won’t even know if the zombie in front of you is actually dead or one of them.”

“Wait. Once they get inside?” Heeseung’s voice is sharp, cutting through the moment like a blade. His eyes narrow, scanning your face. “You’re saying we let them in?”

Ni-ki exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as if trying to process it all. 

You inhale deeply, forcing yourself to meet their gazes. “You and I both know the barricades won’t last,” you say, steadying your voice. “Against a normal horde, maybe. But they will be walking among them. Herding them. Pushing them against the gates. Even if they can’t break through the main entrance, they’ll find another way in.”

The unspoken horror settles over the group and you see the fear flicker across their faces.

“But if we leave the gate open,” you continue, your voice quieter now, more deliberate, “they’ll walk in on their own. And we can blend right in.”

“Okay, but then what?” Jake asks, his voice cautious, calculating. “What do we do after that?”

“We take them out.” You don’t hesitate this time. You don’t waver. You meet his gaze head-on. “From within.”

A thick silence follows your words. You can feel it—the doubt, the fear, the pure insanity of what you’re proposing.

“Fight?” Sunghoon is the first to break the silence, his voice incredulous. “Surrounded by the dead? You must be insane.” He lets out a bitter scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “The moment we make a single sound that doesn’t match the dead, we’re finished. You know that.”

You exhale, willing yourself to stay patient. “No,” you say firmly. “Not fight. Just—sneak up on them. Get close. A small cut, enough to draw blood. That’s all we need. The scent will do the rest.”

They stare at you.

Realisation dawns.

It’s not about fighting. It’s not about going up against them in a losing battle. It’s about turning their own strategy against them. The horde is their weapon. But it can be yours too.

Heeseung’s throat bobs as he swallows. “You mean…” His voice trails off, understanding sinking in.

You nod. “We let the horde do it’s job.”

The plan is reckless. Insane. Dangerous. But it’s the only shot you have. 

And if you’re being honest—it’s a solid plan. But you’re not sure if it’s a plan you’re proud to have come up with. You should be. A plan like this—calculated, ruthless, effective—should bring you some sense of relief. Some assurance that you can outthink them, that you can survive this.

It makes sense. It’s logical. It’s exactly the kind of plan The Future would execute without hesitation if they had known what was coming for them. And that’s what unsettles you the most. 

Jungwon hasn’t spoken. He’s been listening, watching, absorbing every word you’ve said. When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you—his expression unreadable, his gaze sharp and searching, as if trying to pick apart what’s going on inside your head.

You’re dragged back to your conversation with Jay on the rooftop. The way he told you—so plainly, so matter-of-factly—that Jungwon relies on you more than he lets on. That you bring him comfort in ways you never realised.

Then your mind goes back further. To the conversation with Jungwon yesterday. The way he told you that he felt a sense of reprieve when you came along. That you were his moral compass.

The weight of that knowledge settles in your chest, and then, just as quickly, it twists into guilt. It crashes over you like a tsunami.

You wonder if he still feels that way about you.

“Sounds like a plan.” Jay’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade, slicing through the tension that had been suffocating the group. Everyone turns to him, eyes wide, like he’s just said something insane.

You’re staring at him too.

“Why are y’all looking at me like that? I’m not the one that came up with this insanity.” His lips twitch with the ghost of a smirk, but the humour doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Then, as if on cue, they all turn to you. Then back to Jay as he continues, “But it’s a plan that could work,”

“Of course you think that,” Jake snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “You’re always about killing people. I mean, look what got us into this shit in the first place.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you know he doesn’t mean it—not fully. It’s the fear talking. The frustration. The sheer helplessness of the situation that’s clouding his judgement. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

For a moment, you expect Jay to fight back. To argue. To defend himself. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he giggles. It’s a quiet, breathy thing at first—then it morphs into something sharper, something bitter, something unhinged. And it unnerves you.

“You’re right,” Jay says, still grinning, his voice eerily calm. “If I could go back to that night when I went after him, I’d have made sure I watched him die before I left.”

The silence that follows is deafening. 

Then, you feel it—the weight of it pressing down on everyone’s shoulders. No one dares to speak, as if acknowledging it would make them sinners.

And the worst part?

You had said something along those lines to Jay, back at the field. You told him if you were in his shoes, you’d have done worse. But back then it was a figure of speech, a way to make a point. You hadn’t really thought about it, hadn’t truly placed yourself in his shoes, in the heat of that moment.

But now?

Now, you know.

You would have done the same.

And hearing Jay say that—hearing him put words to the rage, to the vengeance clawing its way up your throat—it brings you a twisted sense of relief. A reassurance that you’re not the only person losing yourself in this fucked-up world.

And maybe that’s why you don’t flinch. Maybe that’s why, instead of recoiling from his words, you find yourself gripping onto them like an anchor, like something grounding you in the mess of it all.

Sunoo clears his throat, shifting awkwardly, his fingers tightening around the pistol he’d confiscated from the woman. “Alright, well. That’s… dark.” He tries to break the tension with forced levity, but no one laughs.

No one even breathes.

Jake rubs his face with both hands before exhaling sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts, like if he could just reset for a second, maybe this whole situation would make more sense. Ni-ki shifts uncomfortably beside him, his fingers twitching at his sides. His gaze flickers toward Jungwon, waiting—hoping—for him to say something. Anything.

But Jungwon is quiet.

He’s still watching you, his expression unreadable. There’s no anger in his eyes, no judgement, not even disappointment. Just thought.

And that’s almost worse. 

Because you know that look. It’s the same one he gets when he’s met with an epiphany. When something suddenly clicks into place in his mind, when a realisation takes hold and refuses to let go.

He’s thinking.

Not just about the plan. Not just about them.

He’s trying to make sense of you. Trying to piece together something about you that he hadn’t considered before—

No.

Something about himself. Something about his own moral dilemma. Something he’s been trying to lock away, bury deep beneath all the responsibilities, all the weight on his shoulders.

Jungwon blinks once, his gaze hardening, focus snapping back to the present.

“If we’re doing this, we can’t leave any room for error.” Jungwon’s voice slices through the silence, steady but weighted. It’s the first thing he’s said in minutes, and yet it carries the kind of finality that makes your stomach twist.

He’s still looking at you, but it’s different now. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time—not just as another survivor, not just as someone he needs to protect, but as something else. Something more dangerous.

Something like him.

And for the first time, you see it too.

You’ve cracked something in him. You’ve forced him to acknowledge something he hadn’t wanted to. You’ve opened Pandora’s box.

He knows it. You know it.

But neither of you say it.

“We can’t leave any room for error,” Jungwon repeats, his voice firm, sharp with an edge that slices through the tension like a blade. “We do this clean. Precise. No heroics. No last-minute changes. We stick to the plan, and we survive.”

The shift is immediate. The air changes. Everyone straightens, pulling themselves together, waiting for instruction. No one argues. Not even Sunghoon, who had been the first to call you insane. Because there’s no alternative. No second option. It’s this, or death.

Jungwon’s eyes sweep across the group, calculating, weighing every person’s strengths and weaknesses in the space of a single breath. “We’ll move in groups. When the dead come through, we stay in pairs. No one moves alone. We cover for each other, watch each other’s backs.”

His gaze lands on Jay. “You’re still injured. One wrong move and your stitches will come apart. Not to mention you have the biggest target on your back. So, you stay on the roof.”

Jay’s mouth opens, already ready to protest, but Jungwon cuts him off with a look. “We’ll cut the access off, so nothing can get to you. You’ll have the best vantage point—watch for gaps, any tight spots, and make noise to draw attention elsewhere if things start getting too close.”

Jay exhales sharply, jaw tightening, but he nods. He knows better than to argue.

Jungwon turns to the rest of the group, his expression unreadable. “Like Y/N said, it’s going to be dark. We won’t be able to see clearly, but neither will they. Remember, you just need to draw blood. The dead will do the rest.”

Jungwon’s gaze sweeps across them, sharp, calculating. His hands are loose at his sides, but there’s tension in his stance.

“And they don’t know that we’re on to them,” he continues. His voice is even, but there’s something colder beneath it now—something sharp-edged and deliberate. “We use that to our advantage. Move slow, stay quiet. Don’t rush. If you panic, you die.”

The words settle in like a final nail sealing a coffin.

A heavy silence settles over the group, thick and oppressive, pressing into your lungs like a vice. The weight of the plan is suffocating in its reality. The risk, the blood that will spill before the night is over. 

This is it. 

There’s no turning back. No room for hesitation. No time to process the sheer insanity of what you’re about to do. Your hands feel too light, your heartbeat too loud, hammering against your ribs like it’s trying to escape. 

You picture the bodies—your people, their people, the dead in between—limbs tangled, faces unrecognisable beneath the blood and decay. 

What if you fail? What if you hesitate at the wrong moment? What if someone doesn’t make it? What if you don’t make it? Would it matter? Would it change anything? Would the world even notice if one more person disappeared? 

You inhale sharply, trying to ground yourself, but the air feels thin, slipping through your fingers like sand. You don’t realise you’re gripping the hem of your jacket too tightly until your knuckles ache. 

Move. Breathe. Don’t think. 

Because thinking means fear, and fear means weakness, and weakness means death.

Your mind spirals again. It’s been doing that a lot—a relentless, asphyxiating current dragging you under. And just as it’s about to bury you, a palm presses against the small of your back. Warm. Grounding. Your breath hitches at the unexpected touch.

"Y/N, let’s talk."

Jungwon’s voice is quiet but firm, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you.

He doesn’t wait for a response, simply leading you away, up to the rooftop, where the two of you are left standing under the weight of everything unsaid. You face him, but suddenly, all the words you’ve been rehearsing, all the explanations and apologies you’ve run through in your head over and over, disappear. The moment you look at him—at the quiet intensity in his gaze, the weight in his shoulders—you’re speechless.

Jungwon opens his mouth first. "I—"

But you don’t let him finish. The words burst out of you before you can stop them, raw and desperate. "I’m sorry." Your voice wavers, thick with emotion. "I’m sorry I left you. I know now that I shouldn’t have. God, I was so stupid."

The words come faster now, tumbling over themselves. "I know you said before that you don’t hate me, but you must hate me now—after everything. After I left you. I left you to die." Your breath shudders, a sob catching in your throat. The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, burning hot against your skin. "I’m so sorry, Jungwon. I—"

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if exasperated. "God, you never let me speak, do you?"

You blink through your tears, caught off guard. "What?"

Jungwon watches you for a moment before his expression softens, something almost amused ghosting across his face. "I told you before, I don’t hate you." His voice is steady, deliberate. "Nothing in this world will ever make me hate you."

You struggle to believe it, your chest tightening as you shake your head. "But I saw it." Your voice is barely a whisper. "That look on your face, when I suggested this insane of an idea."

You swallow, trying to steady yourself. "I thought I told you I didn’t want you to think. To second-guess what you’ve always believed in just to weigh me in."

Jungwon sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before lowering it again. "Well, it can’t be helped," he murmurs. "You’re someone that makes me think. A lot."

His words make something crack inside you, splintering under the weight of your guilt. "I’m sorry." Your voice is smaller this time. "I’m sorry I brought out the worst in you. All I did was shatter your resolve."

Your gaze drops, unable to bear looking at him any longer. "And them? Have you seen the way they look at me? They look at me like I’m a monster."

Jungwon tilts his head slightly. "No," he counters. "Have you seen the way they look at you?"

His response catches you off guard. You open your mouth to argue, to insist that you’ve seen their fear, their hesitation. But something about his tone makes you stop. He gestures for you to look, to truly look.

And so you do.

Your eyes drift down to the group below.

Fear, dread, terror—it’s all there, woven into their expressions, etched into their postures, marinating in the thin air. It clings to them like a suffocating fog, thick and unrelenting. Your stomach churns at the sight of it.

But then, as you really take them in, you notice something else. You see it in the tight-set jaws, the clenched fists, the flickering light behind their eyes. You see it as clear as day—something beneath the fear, the dread, the sheer, gut-wrenching terror.

Determination.

Resolve.

Hope—

"Hope." Jungwon’s voice cuts through the moment, soft but certain.

The word reverberates through you, lodging itself deep in your chest. He says it as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. As if he sees the moment you realise what you’ve done.

"And you gave that to them."

His words knock the breath from your lungs.

Hope. The very thing you ran from. The thing you tried to abandon. The thing you convinced yourself was a lie, a cruel trick played by the universe.

And yet, here it is. Staring back at you in the eyes of the people you are trying to save.

Jungwon studies your face, watching as the realisation settles into you. Then, almost casually, he asks, "Has anyone told you what division I was in back when we were still in The Future?"

You blink, thrown off by the sudden change in topic. "No," you admit.

He exhales, his gaze flickering to the horizon before meeting yours again. "Tactical Functions."

The words hang heavy in the air between you. You wait for him to elaborate.

"I was one of the people who decided who got to stay and who was expelled. I played a part designing the tactics and strategies The Future used against the communities around them. All hell could break loose, and I would still be prioritised to stay. Because they needed people like me."

Your blood runs cold.

Jungwon’s voice remains even, but there’s something detached in it now. "You can’t bring the worst out of me, Y/N. I’m already him. And every night, I would see their faces in my sleep. In the trees. In the breeze." He swallows, his throat bobbing. "What’s worse is the only reason I even suggested we leave in the first place was because the committee brought up the discussion to expel Jay for insubordination."

Your breath hitches. "Jay?"

Jungwon lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah. The man just couldn’t sit still without stirring some kind of shit. And they saw it. Saw how he could be a problem to the system. So, I orchestrated the entire escape. I left those people to reap the consequences of my actions. And I’d only done it because of Jay. If it wasn't for him, I would've sucked it up and continued doing whatever it took for us to survive.”

A weight settles in your chest, heavy and unrelenting.

He turns to you fully now, his eyes unwavering. "So no, I’m not going to sit here and let you talk about yourself like that."

It's a shocking revelation. Your mind reels, trying to reconcile the Jungwon standing before you with the boy who once stood on the watchtower, his voice laced with pure, unfiltered hatred.

You still remember that night vividly—the way his face twisted with something raw and wounded when he first told you about The Future. The way his voice dripped with venom as he spoke of them as something worse than the dead. Back then, you thought it was just anger, just the words of someone who had been wronged, betrayed, and left to fend for himself.

But now, the truth wraps around the two of you in a slow, suffocating chokehold.

He wasn’t just talking about them.

He was talking about himself.

It’s only now that you realise—when he cursed The Future, when he spat their name like it was poison, it wasn’t just about what they had done to others. It was about what they had turned him into. What they had forced him to become.

Jungwon looks at you, waiting for a response. But what can you even say? That it’s not his fault? That he was just doing what he had to do to survive? You already know those words will mean nothing to him.

"I—I didn’t know." Your voice is barely above a whisper when you say.

"Now you do."

Jungwon tilts his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "And knowing what you know, does that change how you see me?"

Your response is immediate. "God, no. Never."

A flicker of something—relief, maybe—passes through his eyes. He nods, as if confirming something to himself.

"Precisely. And that's why you don't have to worry about how I see you.”

A humourless laugh escapes him, but it lacks warmth. "I was crazy to think I could be even a fraction of a good person. Maybe my obsession with holding onto my humanity was just deluded because I had already lost it a long time ago."

His voice drops to something quieter, almost contemplative. "And hearing you and Jay say that? It made me feel… normal. Which, in hindsight, fucking sucks."

A faint, bitter smile tugs at his lips. "But it’s oddly liberating."

All this time, you had convinced yourself that you were a burden to him, that your presence chipped away at his resolve, that you were the thing dragging him into the dark. You thought you were making him worse—forcing him to question himself, to second-guess the beliefs he had once stood so firmly upon.

But standing here, you realise the truth is something entirely different.

You weren’t breaking him.

You were keeping him together.

Jungwon was relying on you in ways you hadn’t even considered—not just for your insight, not just for your ability to challenge him, but for something far more simple. Something far more human.

You made him feel normal.

In a world that demanded ruthlessness, in a life that had forced him to carry responsibilities far heavier than any human being should bear, you were the thing that reminded him he was still just a person. Not just a leader. Not just a tactician. Not just the one keeping them all alive.

Just Jungwon.

And maybe you needed him for the same reasons.

Maybe the two of you had been holding onto each other without even realising it, tethering yourselves to something real in a world that had long since lost its meaning.

Tears spill down your cheeks before your brain even registers them. They come silently, effortlessly, like they belong there—as if your body has been holding onto them, waiting for this moment to finally let go. You don’t wipe them away. You just let them fall, streaking warmth down your cold, dirt-streaked skin.

It’s a bittersweet moment, one that catches you off guard with how deeply it settles into your chest. And you realise, standing here in the quiet, in the wreckage of everything you once thought you believed in—how truly fucked up the two of you are.

But it’s not the kind of fucked up that makes you recoil. It’s the kind that makes you stop and think.

Because if you had truly lost your humanity, would you be standing here now? Would you be looking at Jungwon, voice trembling, hands shaking, with tears running down your face? Would he be standing here, looking at you with something equally raw and conflicted in his expression?

No. You’d be long gone. And they’d all be dead.

But you’re here. You came back. And it’s because you have your humanity that you did.

It’s because Jungwon has his humanity that he’s still here, still standing, still trying. Still fighting to be something more than the sum of his past.

Yes, you’re fucked up. You’d cross lines. You’d do the unimaginable. You’d become a version of yourself you never thought possible if it meant keeping the people you care about alive.

But if that’s what it means to survive in this world, if that’s what it takes to hold onto even the smallest fraction of something real—then maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

Maybe it means you’re still human after all.

And in that sense, you’re fucked up in the most beautiful way the world has left to offer.

Your eyes flicker to his hands, catching the way his fingers twitch at his sides, hesitant, uncertain. He’s deciding whether to reach for you—whether to wipe your tears away or let them fall.

It reminds you of this morning. The way he had extended his hands towards you, offering comfort, only for you to step away. You remember the flicker of hurt in his eyes when it happened 

This time, you won’t step away.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you move, reaching out and grabbing his hands. Jungwon flinches at the sudden contact, startled, his breath hitching ever so slightly. His fingers twitch beneath yours, as if caught off guard by your warmth. For a second, he just looks at you, wide-eyed, unreadable, but you don’t let him pull away.

Gently, deliberately, you guide his hand to your face, pressing his palm against your tear-streaked cheek.

His expression shifts. The surprise fades, softening into something else—something quieter, something careful. His thumb brushes against your skin, tentative at first, then firmer, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop falling.

“Y/N…” your name comes out tender. So achingly tender that it makes your throat tighten, your chest ache.

His touch is careful, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid that if he presses too hard, you’ll shatter. But you won’t. Not here, not now. You lean into his palm, closing your eyes for just a moment, letting yourself soak in the warmth, the steadiness of him.

Jungwon exhales, his breath shaky, as though he’s only just realised how much he wanted to touch you. His hands are calloused but warm, grounding, steady. His fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of your cheek, brushing the dampness away with an intimacy that makes your stomach twist.

Then, without thinking, you move closer.

Your hands leave his, trailing up to his wrists, then his arms, gripping onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. Maybe he is. Your breath stutters as you take another step, closing the space between you.

Jungwon freezes, his fingers going still against your cheek. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, waiting, unsure.

So you make the choice for him.

You fall into him.

His arms come up instantly, as if on instinct, wrapping around you the moment your body collides with his. His grip is firm, solid, like he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have. His breath catches against your temple, his body warm and steady as he pulls you in, pressing you close.

And you let him.

You let yourself melt into his embrace, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the scent of him—faint traces of sweat, earth, and something inherently Jungwon—flooding your senses. His heartbeat is strong beneath your palms, his chest rising and falling with each breath, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realised you needed.

His arms tighten around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other splayed across your back, holding you together as if you might slip away if he lets go.

Neither of you speak. There’s nothing that needs to be said.

This is enough.

This moment, this embrace, this quiet understanding between the two of you.

Jungwon exhales, the tension in his body easing as he presses his forehead against the side of your head. You feel the way his fingers curl slightly against your back, as if anchoring himself to you, as if you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart too.

His breath is warm against your temple, steady and grounding. You can feel the weight of his past pressing between you, the guilt he carries like a second skin, the ghosts of decisions he can never undo.

You wonder if he can feel it—the weight you carry pressed between you, the invisible burdens you’ve never spoken aloud, the guilt of saving yourself when the community building fell, the regret of walking away from him when he needed you most, the haunting thought that maybe, just maybe, you were always destined to be alone.

The ghosts of your past intertwine with his, shadows merging, regrets bleeding into one another. He’s carried his burdens alone for so long, just as you’ve carried yours. And maybe neither of you are saints—maybe you’ve both done unspeakable things, crossed lines that can never be uncrossed. 

But here, now, in this moment, none of that matters.

Because, here, now, in this moment, that weight is shared.

And somehow, it feels lighter.

So you stay like this, wrapped up in each other, holding onto something fragile, something unspoken. Neither of you dare to move, as if the slightest shift might shatter whatever this is, whatever red strings of fate have bound you together in this cruel, unforgiving world.

part 4 - blood | masterlist | part 5 - dusk

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: this part was supposed to be wayyyyyy longer but i've been nerfed by the block limit (y'all can thank tumblr for that). so what was originally suppose to be 6 parts, i will have to extend into 7 because i doubt i can squeeze everything into one post. from this part onwards, there will be no update schedule. i appreciate your understanding on this as i'm writing on my own free time outside of my 9-5. i'm really sorry for the disappointment because i know how eager some of y'all are to read this and i also want y'all to get these chapters asap!! T.T

perm taglist. @m1kkso @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @catlicense @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle @classicroyalty @dearsjaeyun @ikeucakeu @sammie217 @m1kkso @tinycatharsis @parkjjongswifey @dcllsinna @no1likeneo @ChVcon3 @karasusrealwife @addictedtohobi @jyunsim @enhastolemyheart @kawaiichu32 @layzfy @renjunsbirthmark13

taglist open. 1/2 @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz

non-grey/underlined = cannot tag

[elllisaaa]

FEELING GOOD - ENHA HYUNG LINE

KINKTOBER DAY 22 - APHRODISIACS + GROUP SEX

SUMMARY : to celebrate the release of the new album of your friends, you decided to make them some cocktails. exept that they don't taste like they usually do, and when the fifth of you start to feel hot and bothered, you definitely understand that someone put something in your drinks.

-> pairing : heeseung x jay x jake x sunghoon x fem!reader

-> words count : 1k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : use of aphrodisiacs (obviously), group sex (5 people), some mxm shit (don't like it, don't read it), alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, making out, foreplay, ridding, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, hair pulling, handjob

+ the way i'm depicting heeseung, jay, jake and sunghoon does not represent them, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | enha masterlist | kinktober 2024

Your special talent - if you could call it like that - was that you were extremely good at making drinks. You could probably have been a bartender if you hadn’t chosen to be a photographer. So you always ended up making drinks for your friends when there was something to celebrate or when you were at parties. And tonight wasn’t an exception as you had prepared a whole set of different cocktails to congratulate your friends for the release of their new album. It had become a tradition to spend the night together drinking, and sometimes smoking, so you were all pretty used to the quantity of alcohol you put in those drinks. Nothing could go wrong, right ?

Right ?

Except that only three cocktails in, you all felt like you were reaching the state you were in at the end of the night. And you knew it was bad when Sunghoon - who was always the most level-headed and the one with the highest alcohol tolerance - started to laugh about nothing and everything. And as time went on, you started to feel dizzy and most of all hot. Really hot. 

“- God, it’s so fucking hot in here…”

The fours guys laying on the couch with you grunted in approval, and Jay even stood up to go open one of the windows, hoping that the cold air of the night would cool you down. But it did nothing to help. The more cocktails you downed, the hotter you felt. And slowly, you realized that it wasn’t that the room was hot, it was that you were. Hot as in wet as hell. Hot as in Heeseung’s lips did not look that bad to kiss and make out right now. 

It all happened in blink of an eye, none of you really thinking too much about it or being conscious enough to process it, but the next thing you knew was that you were sitting on Jay’s lap, his tongue down your throat and Sunghoon’s chest pressed against your back, roaming his hands all over your body. As you detached yourself from him, you took in the scene taking place just by your side on that same couch : Jake literally licking into Heeseung’s mouth. 

“- Fuck…”

The three of you stayed there, as if hypnotized by the scenario unfolding in front of your eyes. You knew this was something that wouldn’t have happened if any of you were in your right state of mind, that there must have been something wrong with the mixing of your drinks, that you might’ve made them a little bit too strong, but you were already far too gone to care. The way Jake was whining in Heeseung’s mouth, and the way Heeseung was tugging on Jake’s hair was too arousing to stop looking. As they finally parted their lips, they looked out of it - pupils blown out with desire, heavily panting, and rock hard in their pants from what you could see. 

You were brought back to reality by the way Sunghoon landed his hands around your waist, letting one of his hands dip into your shorts and rub your clit over your panties. The friction sent a shockwave through your body, making you gasp and take a hold of Jay’s hair (who was currently devouring your neck). You felt very sensitive, more than usual, and the thrill coursing through your veins seemed different too - more intense, as if all your sensations had been multiplied. But it felt so good, and you weren’t conscious enough to want to inquire what was happening, simply letting Sunghoon push two of his fingers inside of you, moaning loudly right in Jay’s ears. The way you were barely moving on top of him to meet his friend’s hand offered him a little amount of friction that still felt incredibly good, his hands grabbing your ass roughly to make you rock your hips faster, forcing Sunghoon’s fingers deeper into you. And the way Jay made you move allowed Sunghoon’s bulge to rub against your ass too, his own grunts mixing with yours and Jay’s sounds. 

This whole concerto was what brought Jake and Heesung out of their frenzy, drool spilling from the corners of Jake’s mouth as they both took in the sinful view of what was happening on the other side of the couch. Sinful but so fucking hot that Jake couldn’t help but whine and buck up his hips in the air, desperate to feel more. He didn’t need more than to hear your high-pitched whimpers, to steal you away from his friends, pushing Heeseung away so you could sit on his lap instead. And with how embarrassingly wet you were, it was easy for him to slide right in, making the two of you moan in harmony at how good it felt to finally have something real. 

“- Fuck… You feel so good…”

You only whined in response, your whole mind absolutely blinded by the heat that had taken over your body. You didn’t waste time to start bouncing on top of Jake, his hands holding your ass and supporting your movements as the both of you uncontrollably moaned. You felt so hot, so responsive, it was like you could cum right this second, without too much effort. And Jake didn’t look like he would be able to last much longer either, if his high-pitched moans and his eyes rolling to the back of his head every time you dropped back down on his cock were any hints. 

And as Jake buried his face in between your breasts, you turned your head to the side to take a look at the three others guys, staring at the both of you with greedy, lustful looks on their faces. But what was even more appealing was the way they were all jerking each other off, without even realizing it. They looked so gone, and so fucking attractive like that. Heeseung cracked an eye open, panting loudly because of the fast rhythm of Sunghoon’s fists around his cock and he looked right at you. 

“- You’re next Hee…”

A smirk spread on his lips at your words, and as you came around Jake with a loud moan, you didn’t regret one bit putting aphrodisiacs in the drinks.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

enha taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lala-----------lala @bbgnyx @rikiives @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @hyunstxns @seomisaho @adirajackson @han-to-my-minho @dylanobr1ens @straytiny127

kinktober taglist (dm or comment to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @leeknowinggg @anxiousskylar @mikaelless

[marsdql]

hold me close L.HS

불안한 ╱ 𝘴oft ! 𝘥om ! 𝘩eeseung х 𝘧em ! 𝘳eader ──── 0.1𝘬 ㆍ slight smut(implied), teeth rotting fluff ㆍ your first time with hee who knows nothing but to comfort you ㆍ @teddybeartaetae

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the sheets beneath

you. Heeseung’s hands were warm, gentle as they slid along your skin, exploring but never pushing, always giving you the space to breathe, to adjust.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering nervously, the self-doubt creeping back in. Your body felt sensitive, unfamiliar to the sensations. The warmth of Heeseung’s hands, his fingers brushing so carefully over your skin, only made you more aware of your vulnerability.

“I’m here,” Heeseung whispered, his voice soothing, soft, like a caress. His face hovered above yours, his eyes watching you with so much love and care. “You’re safe, baby. If it hurts, we can stop. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

You tried to relax, tried to focus on his voice, the way his hands moved so tenderly, as if you were fragile, as if you were the most precious thing he had ever held. But the tightness in your chest didn’t loosen, and the butterflies in your stomach refused to quiet.

“I… I’m nervous,” you admitted, your voice shaky. You could feel the heat of your embarrassment rising in your cheeks. You were being so vulnerable, and you hated that feeling, the feeling of being inexperienced, of not knowing how to navigate this moment.

Heeseung smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His thumb gently traced the outline of your jaw, his touch reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice full of tenderness. “There’s no rush. We’ll go at your pace. I’m right here. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me love you, okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching slightly. The way Heeseung spoke to you, so softly, so patiently, it was like he could read your mind, knew exactly what you needed to hear to calm your racing thoughts.

He leaned down, placing a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, his lips lingering just a little longer each time. His hands moved to your waist, gentle, guiding, but never forcing. “You’re so beautiful,” Heeseung whispered against your skin, his voice thick with admiration. “I can’t tell you enough how amazing you are. You don’t need to be anything but yourself.”

Despite your nerves, despite the rush of emotions flooding through you, Heeseung’s words felt like a balm on your soul. He wasn’t looking for anything from you but honesty, trust, and love. The thought made your chest ache, a mixture of sweetness and vulnerability flooding your heart.

He kissed you again, this time more deeply, his lips soft and insistent, but never demanding. His hands slid under your shirt, gently pulling it off, exposing the soft skin of your torso. You flinched, but Heeseung was quick to reassure you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured softly, his fingers tracing the soft lines of your skin. “You’re so gorgeous. Just breathe with me. I’m here, baby.”

You closed your eyes, your heartbeat loud in your ears. Despite the feelings of insecurity, of being new and unsure, Heeseung’s presence was a gentle anchor. You let yourself melt into him, allowing his calm to wash over you, even as the tightness in your chest remained.

He moved slowly, easing you through each step. His hands gently caressed your back, his lips whispering sweet nothings, comforting you in a way you never imagined possible.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice low and careful, like he was worried about every little reaction you might have.

You nodded, feeling a slight ache, but it wasn’t just physical. Your body, too, was flooded with emotions—nervousness, desire, and a small hint of pain from the unfamiliarity of it all. You tried to hold back the tears that stung at the corners of your eyes, but Heeseung was quick to notice.

He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to your temple, then your cheek. “Shh, baby, don’t cry,” he soothed, his voice thick with tenderness. “You’re doing so well. It’s okay to feel sensitive, okay? I’m here to take care of you. You’re so strong. I know it’s a lot, but you’re doing great.”

His hands were gentle as they continued to caress you, exploring, moving slowly, never pushing. Heeseung’s voice was soft, a constant reassurance, as if reminding you that you didn’t have to be perfect, you didn’t have to do anything but trust him.

“I’m right here,” he repeated, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not alone in this. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take it slow, okay? Just breathe with me.”

The pain was still there, a subtle throb that made you wince, but it was beginning to fade into the background of everything else—his soft touches, his reassuring words, the way he held you so close, so tenderly. His patience felt like a warm embrace, wrapping around you, calming your nerves, letting you feel safe even in your vulnerability.

“It’s better now,” you whispered, your voice trembling but full of gratitude. “You make me feel safe, Heeseung.”

He smiled at you, his eyes filled with warmth and pride. “That’s all I want, baby. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

And with that, he kissed you again, deep and tender, his hands exploring you with the utmost care, always giving you the time you needed, always reassuring you with his softness.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling this time, but they weren’t tears of pain. They were tears of release, of finally being able to let go and trust him, trust that you were safe with him. Heeseung was patient, so incredibly patient with you, and in his arms, you felt something you never thought you could feel—truly seen, truly cherished.

[rainytapestry]

⭑｡𖦹° WHERE'S THE TROPHY? ㅤ— ㅤlhs x f.reader wc 0.7k

your boyfriend wins his match for you, just like he said he would.

★ — fluff, college au, kissing, heeseung is whipped, established relationship, football player!lhs, not proofread

‘Hey, I’ll meet you in the bleachers’, you whispered to Yunjin as soon as you heard your professor dismiss the class for the day, a bit early for the university’s football match. Your friend raised her eyebrow in suspicion before giving you a knowing look. ‘Oh right, your lovely boyfriend’s playing’, she chuckled sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at her remarks but knew she wasn’t wrong.

Hauling up your bag, you rushed out of the classroom, calculating how much time you had in hand to meet up with Heeseung, before the game started. 10 minutes– you had to run if you wanted to make it in time and the locker was quite far from your classroom. But you couldn’t miss it, knowing how important this match was for him.

‘Wha–!’ you shrieked, feeling a strong pair of arms pulling you into the janitor’s closet. You were about to let out a loud scream when you heard a familiar voice behind you, ‘God, babe, calm down.’ And before you knew it, you found yourself in a small closet, a finger’s length away from… Heeseung.

He took out his phone, switching on the light, his smirking face coming into view. Your stomach jumped a little at his sudden appearance before you realized, ‘Hey! Shouldn’t you be in practice, Lee Heeseung?!’ ‘Seriously, Y/N, I surprise you in a romantic way and all you do is scold me’, he pouted at you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his cute expression before reaching up to peck his lips.

Without missing a beat, Heeseung quickly moved his hands to grip your face, catching you by surprise. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around him, lips moving in sync. He bit your lower lip, causing you to move away, ‘no, you’ll be late, love’, sternly looking at the boy before you, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. You had the sudden urge to kiss and wipe the grin off his face but you did not want to be the reason he was late to his match.

‘Ok, deal, we’ll continue once I win’, he replied, winking. You scoffed, ‘Aren’t you a confident one, huh?’ ‘Of course, I can’t let my girlfriend let down!’

Fuck, he really needed to make you fall for him all over again every time. ‘Then, let’s get out, you big baby.’

‘Here’, Heeseung extended a bag lying on the corridor when you both got out. You looked at him questioning. ‘My jersey’, he shrugged. ‘My good luck charm’, he bent down to press a quick kiss on your cheek before dashing for the field. You were left there, still reeling on the events.

Good luck charm.

The stadium roared with a wave of cheers as your team scored another goal. From your position in the stands, you could clearly see Heeseung was in his element, already having scored one goal. Only 10 minutes were left and there was no one stopping him today from winning the match.

You grinned, your eyes following him, effortlessly passing the ball, making a quick save. ‘Obviously he had to give you that jersey, lovesick behaviour’, Yunjin rolled her eyes, lazily munching on the popcorn. ‘You just hate seeing people in love, Jen’, you shrugged, knowing damn well you had dragged her with you to watch the match.

‘AND WITH THAT DECELIS UNIVERSITY HAVE WON THE MATCH!’ the voice boomed over the speakers, the entire crowd erupting into screams and cheers. You jumped up from your seat in celebration. The team on the field huddled together in a moment of united victory before you saw Heeseung getting picked up by his members, a proud grin stretched on your face. He deserved to be the mvp of the match.

And in that moment, both of your eyes met from across the field, you waved your arms enthusiastically, moving past the crowds to get down, hoping to wish him face-to-face.

But wait– the boy just hastily got down from his teammate's shoulder making a beeline to where you stood. His eyes sparkling with a new found determination. All you could do was stand stunned, watching him run over to you and pick you up in one swift motion.

You shrieked at his sudden motion, your heart jumping several beats. From around you, you could hear the cheers intensify. Somebody was chanting, 'Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!' and you couldn't help but giggle, pressing a soft but long kiss on his cheek.

'Told you, I'd be the one winning today, for my girl.'

NOTES. hehe hi i kinda dipped for a while but i got this idea while listening to so high school.by taylor ^_^ i really wanna write a long oneshot on jock!heeseung one day haha,,, thanks for reading >///<

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated :) work belongs to @ rainytapestry

[sleepyhoon]

i see you (always, forever). - l.hs

synopsis. following your ex boyfriend’s sudden disappearance, lee heeseung seemingly enters your life at the perfect time.

pairing. stalker bf!heeseung x fem reader

genre. dark romance, smut, light humor.

word count. 6.1k+

warnings. swearing, obsessive behavior, stalking, brief mention of drink spiking (doesn’t actually happen), mention of alcohol consumption, person held in captivity, mention of past infidelity, extremely brief mention of childbirth, smut [ consensual somno, oral (fem receiving), p in v, sex toy usage ]. this fic contains dark content and is not at all how i view these idols. minors and ageless blogs dni. 18+ content read at your own discretion.

featuring. hwang yeji & shin ryujin (itzy)

a/n. happy valentine’s day babies!! wanted to do something cute and light but i fear it just wasn’t working out … so this right here is for my dark romance girlies hehe enjoy! drew inspo from the television show “you”! shoutout to bae @yangkkomi for beta reading

Lee Heeseung has the worst case of separation anxiety when it comes to you.

The mere thought of being away from you for too long is enough to send him into a spiral, and you barely even realize the effect you had on him. His naturally clingy nature raised no concerns to you; in fact, you relish in his borderline unhealthy infatuation with you — seeing as your previous boyfriend of ten months disappeared on a random Tuesday afternoon, leaving nothing behind but a note claiming he needed to start a new life.

The week of Park Jongseong’s sudden disappearance was agonizing. Yes, he assured everyone he was okay and simply was moving onto a new chapter in his life, and that no one drove him to make such a rash decision, but something about the situation didn’t sit well with you.

Jongseong wasn’t impulsive in the slightest, and you would argue he was one of, if not the most, mature, level headed men you’ve dated. He was distant at times which often felt unsettling, but had his reasonings and assured you he couldn’t have been happier in the relationship. That was one of your favorite things about Jongseong, how he always knew just what to say to calm your nerves, and how he always had a rational explanation for everything.

Running away so suddenly was out of character for him, and a part of you feared that, despite the note left behind, there was something malicious going on that led to his disappearance.

Your older sister, Yeji, had just given birth and was in the midst of planning her wedding, while your parents deemed themselves as “too busy to deal with your issues”, leaving you to become a shell of yourself without having anyone to confide in. Days turned into weeks of you locking yourself in your apartment, typing your ex boyfriend’s name into the search bar over and over, hoping something new would pop up; but nothing ever did.

After a long, tiring day of Zoom meetings and doing more research on Jongseong, your eyes had begun to flutter shut when a knock on your front door wakes you. Expecting it to be your Doordash driver dropping off a greasy, million calorie cheeseburger and a can of soda, you yell out to leave it at the front door. The knocking persisted, and with a sigh, you dragged your feet all the way to the front door, certainly shocked at the man that stood before you.

You don’t even give him the chance to explain himself before you’re asking, “Why do you look familiar?”

He grins at you, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against the cardboard box in his hands. “Unless you’re a book lover we probably don’t know each other; I’m a manager of a bookstore downtown, I’m there all the time.”

“Is it… Brookhaven? You guys have K-pop albums too, right?”

“Book-haven,” he corrects you with a polite nod, “and, yeah, we have albums. Have you been to the shop?”

“A few times.” You mumble, suddenly feeling very self conscious of your outfit choice. With the option to have your camera off during the Zoom meetings, you felt no desire to get dressed for the day, opting to work in your oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts. 

The unnamed man wore casual clothing — a grey North Face jacket atop a black t-shirt and white cargos — yet, you felt completely underdressed in comparison to him. His gaze was piercing yet gentle, like he carried a certain confidence about himself in a way that didn’t come off as cocky or arrogant. Though, you really couldn’t blame him if he were the conceited type; he was definitely an attractive man.

The silver chain on his neck had been paired perfectly with matching earrings, including a silver hoop on his helix. His hair, though likely not his natural color, suited him perfectly; the subtle curls and waves giving him a classic, boyish look with bangs that fell just beneath his eyebrows.

You clear your throat, gesturing towards the package in his hands, “Are you dropping this off?”

“Yes! Uh, FedEx dropped off some packages at my store yesterday and it looks like this must’ve gotten mixed in,” he explains, extending the package towards you, “I tried calling the number on the label yesterday but no one answered, so I’m just swinging by to drop it off.”

You accept the package, rolling your eyes at the mixup. “FedEx is always doing bullshit.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Trust, I’m fully aware. The driver for our block is this old-ass man; I once caught him asleep in his truck.”

You laugh a little too loud at this, inwardly cringing at yourself afterwards as you tuck the package beneath your arm. “Well, thanks for bringing my package…?” You trail off, hoping he’ll complete your sentence by offering you his name.

“Heeseung, Lee Heeseung.”

“Thank you, Heeseung, Lee Heeseung.” You repeat, earning a grin from him.

“No worries,” he responds, fishing something out of his pocket, “and feel free to stop by the store sometime, especially now that you have a coupon.” He says, offering you the small slip of paper from his pocket.

You accept it, eyes widening at the “BOGO FREE KPOP ALBUM” staring back at you. “I…is this real? You really don’t have to.”

Heeseung shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, “It’s no big deal, I keep coupons on me to hand out, anyway. Plus, we’re trying to make room for more stock.” He says, slowly walking backwards down the hall as he inches away from your door. Like a magnet, your body automatically angles towards him, hoping he’ll say something else.

“You’ll just have to request a manager when you’re ready to use it, regular associates can’t process certain coupons under their employee number.”

You nod, free-hand gripping the doorframe as your eyes follow Heeseung, “What days do you work?”

He shrugs again, “Doesn’t have to be me, I have two assistant managers that are there pretty often.”

“Right, but, when are you there?”

He pauses, titling his head at you before responding, “Monday through Friday, eleven-to-eight. Sometimes I stop by once or twice on the weekends to check in.”

“Will you be there tomorrow?”

“All day, eleven-to-eight.”

The following morning, you had the sudden urge to buy a K-pop album and get another one for free.

Heeseung had spent a good portion of that morning conversing with you from behind the counter, listening intently when you got on the topic of your previous boyfriend’s disappearance. It’s still a touchy subject for you, and probably not the best thing to talk about while getting to know a guy you’re interested in, but Heeseung’s question on how “such a pretty girl” like you was single required a truthful answer. Initially, you feared your response of “my boyfriend went missing” would be enough to scare him off, but Heeseung didn’t seem phased in the slightest.

In fact, in the two-and-a-half months you’d been dating Heeseung there was almost nothing you could say or do that would phase him to the point of genuine concern. Not how it took an insane amount of motivation for you in order to clean your apartment (he was fine cleaning it himself), or how often you’d forget to take your very much needed medication (he was more than happy to remind you every morning and night, and even went as far as requesting a refill when the bottle was nearly empty and picking it up for you). Catering to your every need was just another simple task for him, and you’re more than grateful that the universe seemingly dropped him right in your lap when you needed it most.

Heeseung was patient, understanding, and was absolutely devoted to your relationship. In his eyes, you deserved nothing but the best, and was keen on making sure to provide for you. 

Cooking for you was probably his favorite task. He wasn’t the best at it per se, but improved with every attempt, and you seemed to enjoy his meals despite them not being to his liking.

He’d woken up early this morning to prepare a Valentine’s day breakfast for you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead as he slipped out of bed and into your kitchen. The original plan was to go all out and cook a ridiculous breakfast feast he’d seen on TikTok that featured cinnamon rolls, sausage, and fluffy pancakes.

He burnt the first batch of cinnamon rolls and decided it best to simplify your feast down to eggs, bacon, and french toast sticks. Slightly disappointed that his original plan didn’t work out, your boyfriend sighs at himself as he pours a glass of cranberry juice before setting it on a wooden tray table. How he made it to your bedroom without dropping everything was beyond him, considering how he was still weak from sleep and could hardly keep his eyes open.

Heeseung pushed the door open with his foot, peeking his head in slightly and furrowing his brows at your sleeping figure. If not from the noise of clattering dishes, he was almost certain the smell of food would be enough to wake you up. He knew you were a heavy sleeper, but never realized how heavy.

“How are you still asleep?” He mumbles to himself with a sigh, setting the tray of food on your desk before retreating to your bed. He digs his knee into the edge of the  mattress, gently shaking your leg in an attempt to wake you. You don’t budge, your slumber remaining unaffected as the sounds of your light snoring continue to fill the room. His fingers trail down your leg until they reach the sole of your foot, his fingernails softly tickling the sensitive area until you’re jerking your leg away in discomfort.

“Weirdo.” You say through a yawn, angling your body until you’re laying on your side.

Heeseung rolls his eyes at your insult, grabbing ahold of your leg as he responds, “A true weirdo would’ve put their mouth on it, you’re lucky it’s just me. Now get up, I made breakfast.”

Waking you up was no easy task, whether it was seven in the morning or half past noon. Heeseung suspects you’re still recovering from sleep debt after all the nights you’d spent lying awake researching Jongseong’s disappearance. The nights you could sleep didn’t typically didn’t last long; it’d either take hours until you finally drifted off, or you’d wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare; leaving you unable to go back to sleep.

Your sleep schedule hadn’t gotten back on track until you met Heeseung, who made sure you were taking melatonin, iron pills, and just about anything that would help you sleep soundly and feel less tired during the day. And while the extra supplements may be working, there was still a lot of sleep debt you were recovering from; an almost concerning amount that made it difficult for you to get up most days.

You groan into your pillow when the smell of Heeseung’s freshly made breakfast hits your nose, your mouth nearly salivating from the scent alone. As much as you wanted to sit up and start eating, your limbs were still heavy with exhaustion. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be up,” you plead, “I promise.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “Y/N,” he whines, “just get up, I wanna spend time with you before work. You can go back to sleep after I leave.”

Today was the release day of author, Shin Ryujin’s, newest sapphic romance novel that Heeseung could not remember the title of; just that it featured a lot of smut, has over twenty-four chapters, and was highly anticipated. Her team had reached out to Bookhaven not too long ago, inquiring about hosting a Q+A session and book signing event on the day of its release. Initially, Heeseung had planned to reject the offer since it fell on Valentine’s day and that type of event required his presence, and he’d originally planned on spending the entire day with you. The payout of said event, however, was more than enough to get him on board.

He’d be leaving the shop and heading over to you around five, and have Sunoo or Jungwon close up, leaving him with just seven hours with you that he’d planned to make the most of. All he needed now was for you to wake the hell up before he has to leave.

You still don’t budge, mumbling something incoherent before the snores resume and you’ve drifted back to sleep.

“Babe,” he says flatly, shaking your leg. “Y/N. Baby. Dude, get up.”

Still nothing, and Heeseung’s on the verge of kissing your forehead and calling it a day, but there is one thing that could get you up.

Slowly, he peels the thick comforter off of your body, relishing in the fact that you chose to sleep in one of his shirts. Allowing himself further onto the mattress, Heeseung’s hand reahes for the hem of your shirt, pushing it up just enough to reveal your lavender colored panties. He pauses, glancing up at you momentarily before lowering his head and nestling it between your thighs.

He starts off slow, placing a light kiss on your inner thigh before trailing his lips upwards. Pausing right at your hip bone, Heeseung’s fingertips move to the core of your underwear, lightly scratching at your cunt through the soft material. Frustrated, he whines your name once more before slowly trailing your panties down and off your legs, discarding of them on the other side of the mattress.

Fingernails digging into your flesh, he grips your thighs as he repositions himself at eye level with your cunt, inching forward slowly until he’s pressing his lips right against yours. It’s gentle at first, much like how he’d kiss you any other time, a few gentle pecks until he was desperate for more.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, and finally has his tongue fall flat against your entrance. The groan that escapes his mouth from the contact comes from deep in his chest, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped indents on your thighs from how hard he’s gripping them.

He licks a long, slow strip along your cunt upwards towards your clit, licking and sucking at the bud as if savoring the feeling of your taste on his tongue. He repeats his movements a few more times, growing desperate as the seconds pass by, each moan and whine from him becoming more desperate and whiny than the last. You shift around slightly, furrowing your brows a bit, but still not fully awake.

Another minute passes by and you’re still asleep. Your body automatically responding to Heeseung’s touches, but they’re still not enough to wake you. He’s not bored in the slightest, though, and would argue that he could probably go on for hours if that’s what it took; but he has to leave soon, and needs you awake as soon as possible.

With a sigh, he kisses your thigh once before twisting his body and reaching over to your nightstand, opening the bottom drawer and digging around slightly until his fingers brush against the rubber vibrator he’d been searching for. It’s an air pulsing one you’d bought before you’d met Heeseung, and when he’d discovered it in your room for the first time, he’d insisted on implementing it into your sex lives as much as possible.

He turns it on, choosing to keep it on the first setting before pressing it directly on your clit. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the contact, with Heeseung keeping his gaze fixed on your face. Gently massaging the toy against your cunt, your eyes slowly began to flutter open, a loud moan echoing through the room as Heeseung turned the toy up to a medium setting.

You grab a fistful of Heeseung’s hair, yanking him forward until his mouth is on your cunt again. The sudden roughness takes him by surprise, but he doesn’t seem to mind it in the slightest; in fact, he can feel himself stiffening in his boxers from you gripping his hair alone.

Moaning into your cunt, Heeseung does his best to keep the vibrator pressed against you while he eats you out. His desperation was astonishing, his moans nearly being as loud and whiny as yours as he continued.

When you’re finally close, which doesn’t take very long; Heeseung discards the vibrator completely; mindlessly tossing it on the floor to lap at your cunt with his tongue. He presses it flat against you, dragging your wetness up to your clit before sucking the swollen bud between his lips.

You orgasm almost instantly at that, trapping Heeseung's head between your thighs as you come on his face with your back arching off the bed and swears pouring from your lips.

You’re panting as you come down from your high, breath rigged as you drape your arm against your forehead, “Wow.”

“You okay?” Heeseung asks, voice muffled as you finally release his head was still trapped between your thighs.

“Shit,” you loosen the grip, “sorry, Hee.”

“Don’t apologize. Oh my God, I could’ve died like that and would’ve been okay with it.”

Weirdly enough, you don’t think he’s joking.

“Anyways,” he continues, “you okay?”

You nod, pressing your lips into a thin line, “I’m definitely up.”

“Yeah, me too,” He responds, tapping on his painfully hard erection. “Can I…?”

“If you do all the work, sure.”

Heeseung scoffs, already moving to tug his pajama pants down, “As if I ever let you do any of it.”

It’s not a complaint, Heeseung was more than happy being the more assertive one when it came to your sex life. He didn’t mind doing most of the work as long as it meant you were getting off.

When he turns you to lay on your side you let him, resting your back against his chest as he teases his tip at your entrance. You bite down on your bottom lip, hand gripping the bed sheets when he finally does slide himself in. Heeseung grunts into your ear, placing a gentle hand on your hip, “ ‘m gonna go a little bit fast, okay? We don’t have a lot of time.”

He wasn’t exaggerating, either.

At your confirmation, Heeseung pulled out of you entirely before pushing himself back in; his thrusts overwhelmingly fast but not painful or rough. You yelp when he bites down on your neck, though, a habit he picked up upon finding out you enjoy being marked up.

He was certain that neither of you will last long like this, so it doesn’t surprise him that after a few minutes you’re already creeping up on your orgasm. Heeseung takes this as a sign to speed up his already quick thrusts, his nails digging into your hip as he presses his head onto your shoulder.

You finish first with Heeseung just a few seconds behind you, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of him filling you up with his cum. As always, he keeps his dick buried in you for another minute longer, only pulling out when he’s reminded of how little time he has.

Sitting up, Heeseung moves a few stray strands of hair out of the way to plant kisses on your face, but you stop him with the excuse of not having brushed your teeth yet before he’s able to properly kiss you on the lips.

He scoffs, “You just came on my face, do you think I care if you have morning breath? Don’t insult me.”

“At least let me eat first so I can get this weird taste out of my mouth,” you counter, reaching over your shoulder to pat Heeseung on the cheek. “Can I do that?”

Heeseung lets out a loud, dramatic sigh, “If you insist. Let me clean you up first, though.”

He stands from the bed, awkwardly pulling his boxers and pajama pants back up before excusing himself to your bathroom. He takes care of himself first before running a rag under the sink faucet and returning to your bedroom.

After cleaning you up with practiced ease, Heeseung discards of the rag in your bathroom hamper and slips back into your bedroom, finally delivering you the breakfast in bed he’d been anticipating all week, a wide grin on his face as he sets the wooden tray down on your lap. “All your favorites: french toast sticks, bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese, and a glass of cranberry juice. Bone apple teeth.”

You chuckle at his joke, admiring the feast laying in your lap as you grab a strip of bacon, “Where’s your food?” You ask, noticing there was only enough servings for one person.

Heeseung shakes his head, resting the palm of his hand on your bare knee as he sits across from you, “I’ll pick up something on the way to work, didn’t have time to make enough for both of us.”

With a pout, you take a bite of the bacon strip, “Now I feel bad.”

Heeseung grins, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “Don’t, consider this part one of your Valentine’s gift.”

You’ve finished the first strip by now, moving onto the second one as you use your free hand to retrieve your phone from the nightstand. “Well, at least let me pay for your breakfast then.”

He shakes his head at you, reaching for your phone that you manage to pull out of reach. “Babe, you seriously don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you respond, halfway through Venmo-ing him fifteen dollars, “that should be enough.”

“Y/N…”

“Done! And don’t send it back or else I’ll be really sad, you know gift-giving is my love language.”

He chuckles, using the fork and knife on the tray table to cut a piece of the french toast stick, “Thank you, baby. You spoil me.” He dips the fork into the container of maple syrup before bringing it up to your parted lips, cupping his hand underneath to prevent the syrup from dripping onto the bed sheets.

You hum, cupping Heeseung’s face as you chew, “Anything for my princess. Also, you said this was part one of my gift?”

Heeseung nods, cutting another square off the french toast, “Part two is still later tonight, once I’m off work.”

“Can you tell me what it is now, please?” You plead, clasping your hands together as you jutt out your bottom lip, staring up at him with a pout. For the past week, Heeseung had been teasing about this big Valentine’s day surprise he had planned for you, claiming it would be the “surprise of a lifetime”.

He hums, feeding you another forkful. “I’ll tell you this, when you have the time, you’re gonna have to pack an overnight bag.” Your eyes light up, waiting patiently before speaking as Heeseung continues, “And, you’re gonna have to be dressed up once I pick you up after work. Nothing crazy fancy, just… something nice.”

Heeseung can tell you want to bombard him with more questions, and brings another forkful of food to your lips before you have the chance. “I’ll be picking you up around five-forty-five, ‘m sorry I’ll have to be at the shop most of the day.”

You shake your head, picking up the glass of cranberry juice, “Don’t be, I hope the event goes well. If you have extras, can you bring me a copy of the book?”

“For sure, and I’ll see if I can leave any sooner so we have some extra time together.”

“You seriously don’t have to,” you assure him, taking a sip of your drink, “besides, I have some errands to run in the meantime.”

Heeseung raises a brow at you, “Oh? You’re going out today?”

You nod excitedly, setting the cup on your nightstand, “Yeji and I are taking the baby to a Mommy-and-Me yoga class then doing some shopping.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes at the mention of your sister, setting the fork and knife back onto the tray table. You frown at him, shoulders slouching as you tilt your head, “Why do you hate my sister so much?”

“I never said I hated Yeji.”

“You didn’t have to, it’s pretty obvious. You never wanna talk to her when she’s around and you roll your eyes whenever I mention her.”

Heeseung shrugs, “She’s just not my cup of tea, is all. Our personalities clash.”

Of course there’s more to it than clashing personalities, but you’re not quite ready for the full truth just yet, so he decides to leave it at that. “Anyways, how are Jake and Jihan?”

Your eyes light up at the mention of your future brother-in-law and nephew, “I talked to Yeji yesterday and she said things are good! Jihan is starting to roll over and Jake plans on asking his friend, Sunghoon, to be his best man. Oh, and Yeji says the baby is finally starting to look like Jake.”

“Really?”

You nod, “Mmhm, Jake is so happy.”

“Good for him,” Heeseung mumbles, watching as you take a bite of the eggs. “Gonna have to head out now, but I loaded my card onto your Apple Wallet, ‘kay? Use that while you shop.”

You blink at him, “When’d you do that?”

“Last night, consider it part one-and-a-half of your gift.”

“You spoil me.”

Heeseung grins, “Anything for you.”

The drive to Bookhaven is quiet, with Keshi playing from the stereo as Heeseung made his way to the shop and parked by the employee entrance.

Stepping right into a pile of snow, he shuts the car door behind him before making his way across the street and stopping by his favorite breakfast cafe, Heaven’s Treats. He ordered his usual: two bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches on croissants and two bottles of water; using your fifteen-dollar Venmo gift to pay and tipping the staff with a few dollars cash.

He heads back over to his shop afterwards, unlocking and entering through the employee entrance. Once inside, he unlocks his office door first, setting the bag of food down on his desk before heading into the main area of the shop. Taking a few minutes to wipe down tables and put away loose books, Heeseung hums to himself as he enjoys how quiet and peaceful the shop is. Shin Ryujin was sure to bring in a crowd later today, and he can already tell he’d be leaving the shop with a headache.

Once finished, Heeseung retreats back to his office and shuts the door behind him, grabbing the bag of food from the desk before walking over to the closet door. With a sigh, he opens it up, pushing the file cabinet to the side to reveal the door to the hidden basement. His eyes jot down to the keypad under the doorknob, where he quickly types in your anniversary before twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

Staring down at the wooden staircase, Heeseung sighs once again, “Let’s get this over with.”

Carefully, he retreats down the steps and into the basement, looking over into the glass chamber and finding Jongseong, your ex boyfriend, sound asleep on his mattress. Heeseung chuckles once he’s made it down the stairs, walking over to the pass-through attached to the glass chamber and opening it, sliding in the breakfast sandwich and bottle of water before shutting it with a loud click!

Heeseung retreats over to his desk and computer monitors that sat opposite of the glass chamber, sitting on his office chair before grabbing and turning on the intercom microphone. “Sleeping in?”

His voice comes out ten times louder in the glass chamber’s speaker, jolting Jongseong out of his sleep as he presses the palms of his hands onto his ears. “Jesus fuckin’… is the intercom necessary?! You’re right there! I can hear you through the glass!”

Heeseung shrugs nonchalantly, setting the microphone back on the desk, “You’re a heavy sleeper.” Jongseong sighs in response, rubbing his eyes as Heeseung continues, “Brought you breakfast, it’s in the pass-through. Eat before it gets cold.”

“How do I know you didn’t do something to it? Sick fuck.” Jongseong spits, arms folded across his chest as he stares at Heeseung through the glass.

“Do something like what?”

“I don’t know, spike my drink like last time?”

Heeseung lets out an agitated groan as he slumps in his chair, retrieving his own food from the takeout bag as he responds, “How many times do I have to tell you I didn’t fucking drug you that night? You actually made everything a lot easier by getting blackout drunk at a fucking nightclub.”

“Yeah, and if I didn’t blackout? Then what?”

“Who cares? It doesn’t matter, what matters is that you’re away from Y/N.”

Jongseong shivers at the mention of your name, immediately looking away from Heeseung and focusing his attention on the food in the pass-through.

Around six months ago, you’d showed up to Bookhaven hand-in-hand with Jongseong, and Heeseung had been enthralled with you ever since. He spent is every waking moment doing his research on you, which included doing a deep dive on the people closest to you: your immediate family, close friends, and stupid fucking boyfriend.

Heeseung knew the moment he laid eyes on Jongseong that he was no good for you, and was clearly putting up a facade when the two of you were together. Heeseung saw right through it, how quickly he’d pull out his phone to snap a text when you were looking, how he’d roll his eyes whenever you got too excited about something, how he almost never responded to your PDA — he was the fucking worst, and you deserved so much better. You deserved Lee Heeseung.

Days leading up to Jongseong’s disappearance, Heeseung had been watching him like a hawk; cyber-stalking him as closely as possible without being caught, until, finally, Jongseong decided to go clubbing one night.

Heeseung’s original plan was to wait until Jongseong was slightly drunk and knock him out, but Jongseong getting blackout drunk on his own accord made things way easier for Heeseung — all he had to do was pretend to be a friend to Jongseong and convince everyone else he’d be getting him home safely.

Dumbasses, all of them.

Jongseong stands, scratching the back of his neck as he walks over to the pass-through.

“Anyways, it’s Valentine’s day,” Heeseung says after biting into his own sandwich, “you have any plans? Oh wait.”

Jongseong rolls his eyes again, mumbling “Fuck you” under his breath as he retrieves his food and drink. He inspects the sandwich thoroughly before taking a bite, chewing slowly as if trying to taste each and every spice and flavor.

“Wait,” Heeseung speaks, suddenly realizing something, “if you just woke up, that means you missed the show.”

Jongseong rolls his eyes a third time, already knowing what Heeseung was getting at. “I’m sure I didn't miss much.”

Heeseung swivels around in his office chair to face the three monitors, each one surveilling different areas in your apartment. You were blissfully unaware of the hidden cameras he’d set up in your home that have been recording your every move for months on end. He’s doing it for your own safety, really; keeping an eye on you at all times.

You’re in the kitchen now, loading up the dishwasher with music playing from your phone, stopping every few seconds to belt out the lyrics or make an attempt at doing the choreography. Heeseung enjoys watching you like this, when you truly get to be yourself because you think no one is around.

He grins, switching over to the center monitor and hitting the rewind button until he sees himself entering your bedroom, “There we go.” Heeseung monitors himself closely, watching as he sets the tray of food down on your desk before walking over to your mattress.

He moves out of the way so Jongseong has a better view of the screen, a smug expression on his face as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. The monitors were on at all hours, meaning the only entertainment Jongseong had was watching you stroll around your house. Weirdly enough, it pleases him to keep an eye on you like this, making sure you’re still okay after all this time.

He can do without watching you and Heeseung have sex, though.

Jongseong turns his head away the moment Heeseung removes the blanket from your body, groaning in disgust as he takes another bite from his sandwich. “I don’t need to see this.”

Heeseung shrugs, mumbling, “Your loss” as he speeds up the replay. He prefers to focus on the key moments anyway, like the face you make right before you come on his, or how your entire body tensed when he leaned down to bite on the nape of your neck.

As arousing as it was to play back all those moments, he primarily used it as a personal study guide on what you liked the most, so he’d be better at pleasing you going forward. This behavior had started before the two of you even got together, if he’s being completely honest. One simple, playful retweet from you about preferring to receive oral rather than give it had him ordering a pocket pussy the very next day to practice on.

The first time the two of you hooked up, Heeseung had spent approximately twenty-four minutes going down on you, only stopping when you expressed concerns about his jaw locking up — not that he cared.

“Wait a second,” Jongseong pauses, crumbling the empty food wrapper into a ball before tossing it to the floor, “what happened to that big breakfast feast you kept talking about, huh? With the, uh, the pancakes and cinnamon rolls?”

When Heeseung doesn’t respond, Jongseong continues taunting, “What, realized you couldn’t do it? That you can do something as simple as prepare a meal? Wow, are you—”

“Shut up, dumbass.” Heeseung interrupts him with a shake of his head, swiveling around in his office chair until he’s facing Jongseong, “You think you’re better than me because you know how to cook? Go on then, cook something. Go to the stove and prove you’re better at me than cooking.”

Silence falls between the two, with Jongseong glaring daggers at Heeseung as he tightens his fists.

“Oh, wait,” Heeseung continues, tapping his chin, “you can’t cook; you’re trapped in my basement while I fuck your girlfriend.“

“Whatever.”

“Oh, now it’s whatever, but just a second ago you were so much better than me for knowing how to cook — you also know how to lie and cheat.”

“Whatever, Heeseung, just drop it.”

“How do you think Y/N would feel if she found out you were cheating on her with her own sister? How old do you think Jihan will be before Jake realizes why they look nothing alike?” Heeseung questions, tilting his chin at Jongseong, as if expecting a legitimate answer.

The mere thought of Jongseong and your own sister getting together behind your back is enough to make Heeseung gag; he couldn’t fucking believe two of the closest people in your life would deceive you like that. It was beyond disgusting, and he had a strong distaste for Yeji the moment he found out.

Ashamed, Jongseong turn away from Heeseung’s gaze. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, turning around in his seat until he’s facing the monitors, “Anything involving Y/N is my business, fuck-face, including you and anyone else that bothers her.”

He navigates the surveillance controls until he’s back to watching you in real time, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile when he sees you facetiming someone. He shushes Jongseong, who hadn’t even been speaking, as he turns the volume up in order to hear you better.

“…and I think he looks just like you, seriously…Jake?…I mean, I don’t know…I’m not really seeing the resemblance yet…”

Realizing who you were talking to and what the topic of conversation was, Heeseung clicks his tongue, “They may even find out sooner than you think.”

The sound of Yeji’s voice through the speaker has him rolling his eyes as he turns down the volume, not that it mattered, considering you disappeared into the bathroom a few moments later.

“Hey,” Jongseong taps on the glass, “let me ask you something.”

“No.”

“Why do you have a camera in every room except the bathroom?”

It’s a genuine question, but it comes out more perverted than Jongseong had intended it to.

As if the answer was obvious, Heeseung raises a brow as he responds, “I’m giving her privacy, pervert.”

[percl0verrr]

texting enha if they wanna “make out “ BY ACCIDENT

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warnings : making out , mention of drug and being drunk ?? that’s it i think

_____________________________________

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#enhypen

[luvashli]

ESCAPISM

SYNOPSIS -> After a painful breakup with Heeseung, you lose yourself in a wild night of partying. Niki becomes your distraction, leading to heated dances and passionate kisses. But as morning comes, you’re left wondering if it was just an escape or something more.

PAIRING -> nonidol!ni-ki x fem!reader (ex!heeseung)

GENRE -> oneshot, romance, drama, angst, suggestive, emotional, mature

STARTED -> 2/12/2025

STATUS -> complete

WC -> 2.7k

Note -> This oneshot is inspired by the song “Escapism” by Raye. While the story contains suggestive themes and intense emotional tension, it does not include explicit smut.

click here for the song “Escapism” by Raye

Masterlist

It happened last night.

You sat across from Heeseung in your favorite café, the one you always went to after his late-night practices. The air between you was thick—he was fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie, avoiding your gaze, while you stirred your coffee without drinking it.

You could feel it before he even said the words.

“Y/N… we need to talk.”

Your fingers tensed around your spoon. Those words never meant anything good.

“About what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung finally looked at you then, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t see the warmth that used to be there. Instead, you saw hesitation. Guilt.

“This… us,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Heeseung, what are you saying?”

He sighed heavily, finally meeting your eyes. “I think we should end this.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

“Why?” you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, frustration flickering across his face. “You know why, Y/N. This… this isn’t working anymore. I don’t have time. You don’t have time. We barely see each other, and when we do, we’re just fighting or pretending like everything’s fine. It’s not fine.”

Your stomach twisted. Yes, things had been tense lately. Late-night arguments over missed dates, his phone always buzzing with notifications he wouldn’t let you see, the way he seemed distant even when he was right in front of you.

But you loved him. And you thought he still loved you, too.

“You’re giving up on us?” you asked, your voice cracking.

His jaw tightened. “I just… I don’t think we’re good for each other anymore.”

You felt like you were drowning.

“So that’s it?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, looking down at the table. He wouldn’t even fight for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

And that was the part that hurt the most. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t cruel. He was just… done.

You walked out before he could see the tears spill down your face.

---

The city hums beneath you, neon lights flashing in sync with the pounding bass inside the club. The music is loud—loud enough to drown out your thoughts, loud enough to replace the echoes of his voice from last night.

"I think we should end this."

Cold. Empty. Like the months you spent loving him meant nothing.

So now you’re here. Dressed in sin, drowning in liquor, looking for something—someone—to make you forget.

The champagne fizzes in your glass as you swirl it absentmindedly, perched at the bar with your legs crossed, your heels dangling from your feet. You don’t trust the people you came with. They’re friends of friends, girls who smile too wide and whisper too much. But that doesn’t matter. Tonight, nothing matters.

Then, he walks in.

Ni-ki.

He moves like he owns the room—tall, lean, and effortlessly confident. His dark eyes scan the crowd, taking in everything, calculating. But then they land on you.

And they stay.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he approaches, his presence commanding in a way that makes your skin tingle. He leans against the bar beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne—something clean, sharp, expensive.

"Buy me a drink?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," he replies smoothly.

He orders two wines without breaking eye contact, and the bartender slides them over. You take a sip, letting the bitter warmth spread through you, letting it replace the ache in your chest.

"Rough night?" he muses, watching you.

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. "More like a rough life."

He doesn’t push for details. He just clinks his glass against yours. "To forgetting, then."

And just like that, you fall into the night with him.

---

The alcohol makes everything blur—makes it easier to laugh, easier to let go. One drink turns into three, into five. You’re on the dance floor now, the bass vibrates through your chest, the rhythm pulsing like a second heartbeat. The club is packed—bodies moving, drinks spilling, neon lights flashing across the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of color. But none of it matters.

Because the moment Ni-ki pulls you into him, hands firm on your waist, the entire world narrows down to just the two of you.

Your body moves instinctively to the music, swaying with the beat, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Ni-ki’s grip tightens, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you, only heat and the electric tension that’s been building between you all night.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something wicked in them—something teasing, something daring. He’s testing you, seeing how far you’ll let this go.

So you decide to push back.

You turn in his arms, pressing your back against his chest, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles. His sharp inhale is almost lost beneath the pounding music, but you feel it. You feel everything—his hands spreading across your stomach, his breath against the shell of your ear, the way his fingers flex like he’s barely holding himself together.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice low, laced with amusement.

You glance over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips. “Maybe.”

His response is immediate. One hand slides down, fingers splaying over your hip, guiding your movements with a firm, calculated grip. He’s in control now, and he wants you to know it.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder as you move together, the tension between you tightening with every sway, every roll of your hips against his. The heat of his body is overwhelming, the scent of his cologne intoxicating, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game.

But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Ni-ki leans down, his lips brushing against your jaw, the touch featherlight, teasing. His fingers trail up your arm, over your bare shoulder, until they find the strap of your dress, tugging it just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of warning and promise.

You turn in his arms again, chest pressed against his, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket. The air between you is thick, heavy, charged. Your heart pounds, and you know—you know—that if you lean in just a little more, his lips will be on yours.

“And if I don’t want to be careful?” you challenge, tilting your chin up, eyes locked onto his.

Ni-ki’s smirk deepens.

“Then we have a problem.”

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the music thrums around you, drowning out everything except the way he feels against you. The way he looks at you—like he already knows exactly how this night is going to end.

And for once, you don’t care about the consequences.

So you let yourself get lost in him, in the music, in the escape.

Because tonight, that’s all that matters.

___

By the time you stumble out of the club, giggling as the cold night air bites at your skin, you’re too far gone to care about anything but him. His hand finds yours, steadying you as you both slip into the back of a waiting taxi.

The city lights blur past the window, but you’re not looking at them. You’re looking at him. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his lips part slightly as he watches you.

The air inside the taxi is thick with tension, crackling like electricity between you and Ni-ki. The city blurs past outside the window, neon lights flashing across his sharp features, casting shadows across his cheekbones. His hand rests on your thigh, just barely, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

Your breath hitches, your body already reacting to the unspoken pull between you. You don’t know what it is about him—maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s daring you to do something reckless, or maybe it’s the way he hasn’t asked you any questions, hasn’t pried into the wounds you’re trying to drown in champagne and cheap thrills.

“Are you always like this?” he asks suddenly, voice smooth, teasing.

You turn to him, tilting your head slightly. “Only when I don’t want to feel.”

His eyes flicker with something—understanding, maybe. A silent acknowledgment that he knows what it’s like to run from something, too.

You don’t ask what he’s running from. And he doesn’t ask about you.

His gaze flickers down to your lips, and something dark flickers in his eyes. You don’t miss the way his fingers tighten slightly against your thigh, the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips.

You should wait. You should think. But you don’t want to.

Instead, you shift closer, closing the space between you until your breaths mix, until you can feel the warmth of him against your skin.

“And right now?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

“Right now, I don’t want to feel anything at all,” you breathe.

That’s all it takes.

Ni-ki moves first. His hand slides up, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh, igniting something in you that’s been burning all night. He catches your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up just enough to bring his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow at first, deliberate—like he’s testing you, like he’s seeing how far you’ll let this go. But you don’t hold back. You press into him, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer, deeper.

And just like that, the tension snaps.

He groans softly against your lips as his hands slide to your waist, tugging you toward him, his grip firm, possessive. The taxi is moving too fast, or maybe not fast enough, because you can’t get close enough to him, can’t feel enough of him.

You bite his lower lip, just enough to make him inhale sharply, his fingers tightening around you in response. His hands are warm, rough in a way that makes you shiver, in a way that makes you forget everything except the way he’s touching you.

Your back presses against the cool leather of the taxi seat as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, sending heat spiraling through you. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress, tracing slow, agonizing patterns along the inside of your thigh, teasing.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath uneven.

You smirk, tilting your head back slightly, your own hands slipping beneath his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. “And you like it.”

His responding chuckle is dark, low. “Yeah. I do.”

The driver clears his throat loudly. You barely register it, too caught up in the feeling of Ni-ki’s mouth on your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

“We’re almost there,” the driver mutters.

You exhale sharply, forcing yourself to pull away, your pulse racing. Ni-ki watches you, his lips swollen, his breathing uneven, his fingers still pressing into your thigh like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

“Hotel,” he says to the driver, voice rough. “Now.”

And as the taxi speeds up, you realize something.

You may not want to feel.

But with Ni-ki, you’re going to.

___

The elevator ride is suffocating.

Not because there’s no air, but because every inch of space between you and Ni-ki is filled with tension so thick, it’s almost unbearable. His fingers press into your waist, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. You can feel his breath against your temple, the scent of liquor and something undeniably him mixing in the confined space.

Neither of you speak. You don’t need to.

The ding of the elevator doors opening barely registers before you’re moving, stepping out onto the hotel floor with Ni-ki’s hand gripping yours, leading you down the dimly lit hallway. His pace is hurried, purposeful, like he’s barely holding himself together. Like he’s been waiting for this all night.

The second the hotel door swings shut behind you, the restraint shatters.

Ni-ki is on you in an instant, pressing you against the door with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. His lips crash against yours, hungry, demanding, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You moan into the kiss, fingers threading into his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his throat. The sound sends a rush of heat straight through you, making your knees weak. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel anything but him.

Ni-ki’s hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, tracing over your curves like he’s memorizing every inch of you. His fingers hook into the straps of your dress, dragging them down your shoulders, his lips trailing after them, kissing a slow, burning path down your collarbone.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, voice rough with desire.

Your head tips back against the door as his mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. Your hands move instinctively, slipping under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugs it off easily, then tugs his shirt over his head, revealing toned skin and sharp lines that make your mouth go dry.

You don’t get the chance to admire him for long before he’s lifting you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs as he carries you toward the bed. You gasp, arms wrapping around his shoulders, but he just smirks, pressing another hot kiss to your lips as he lays you down against the cool sheets.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, hovering above you, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You don’t hesitate.

“I want this,” you whisper. “I want you.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Ni-ki kisses you again, slower this time, savoring the way you melt beneath him. His hands explore your body with an intoxicating mix of tenderness and urgency, fingers skimming down your waist, gripping your thighs, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches.

He takes his time, pulling your dress down inch by inch, watching the fabric slip away from your body with a hunger that makes your pulse race. His lips follow the path of his hands, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, your hips, teasing you, torturing you.

“You’re driving me insane,” he mutters against your skin, his voice raw.

You smirk, arching into him, dragging your nails down his back. “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

The night dissolves into a blur of heat and tangled sheets, of whispered names and desperate touches, of lips and hands and bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. Every kiss, every touch, every breath is an escape—an escape from reality, from heartbreak, from the pain you refuse to acknowledge.

And for a few fleeting hours, nothing else matters.

Not Heeseung.

Not the past.

Not the consequences.

Only this. Only him.

---

Morning comes too soon.

The sun cuts through the curtains, painting the room in harsh light. Your head is pounding, your throat dry, your body aching in a way that isn’t just physical.

You blink, trying to remember. Flashes of last night come back in pieces—his hands, his lips, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Beside you, Ni-ki stirs. His arm drapes lazily over your waist, his face buried in the pillow. Peaceful. Unbothered. Like this is just another night for him.

And maybe that’s all it was.

You slip out of bed, pulling the sheet around you as you search for your dress. The air is heavy, suffocating, and the second you find your phone, you see the unread messages from him.

Heeseung.

I shouldn’t have ended things like that.

Can we talk?

You inhale sharply, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Last night, you thought you had buried the pain under alcohol, under Ni-ki’s touch. But now, in the quiet of the morning, the weight of everything settles back onto your chest.

Your chest tightens.

You should feel something. Anger. Sadness. Relief. But instead, there’s just... nothing.

Because this was never about getting over him.

It was about escaping.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re still running.

Would you like a part two?? Let me know :))

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@crimson-reaper576 @luvleyylina

[bambieheeseunglee]

You don’t need to undress me with your eyes—I’ll make it easy for you.

Lee Heeseung - 01 line!

[angelsfat3]

ⓘㅤ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑. ⠀⠀( 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝓵𝑜𝑔𝑢𝔢. )

𝓢ummary “ ✉. And you wonder if he really sees you or just the reflection of her in your eyes.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ drama, angst, situationship, lovers to enemies, friends to lovers.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Toxic 'relationship', guilt feelings, unrequited love, feelings denial, Jake appearing at the end.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Heeseung’s words faded into a dull echo in [...]’s mind. He was there—physically present—but his soul drifted somewhere lost in the past, trapped in a wound that had never healed. That never would.

Sometimes, pain was a scream. Other times, a sharp whisper slipping beneath the skin. But this time, it was a slow-burning poison, eating away at him, clotting his memories from the inside out.

Heeseung laughed, spoke in that sweet voice of his—the same voice that had once been his refuge, his favorite wake-up call… but now, it was nothing more than a cruel, grating reminder of everything he had lost.

Because, at the end of the day, Heeseung was never his. He never had been.

He had known it since that night—since that early morning when he woke to the sound of his voice, when his words sank into his chest like daggers.

“Yeah, I… I love you too. I miss you just as much as you miss me.”

[...] shuddered in silence, clenching his jaw and simply closing his eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt invisible in his own love.

Heeseung held his hand, kissed him, said his name with such tenderness… but in every one of those moments, Chloe’s shadow was there. In every date, every embrace, every kiss, every touch that was meant to soothe his soul. In every glance filled with a feeling that was never truly his.

No matter how hard he tried to hold on, Heeseung always found her among the remnants of their love. Even the smallest detail somehow led back to her.

And it hurt. God, it hurt worse than a thousand burning blades straight to the chest.

[...] had promised himself he would be strong. That he would find a way to extinguish the fire raging inside his ribs. But every time he convinced himself, Heeseung would look at him with those devotion-filled eyes and whisper, “I love you so much...” “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” “Thank you for showing me what real love is.”

And he would fall again.

It was an unbreakable cycle. A torture disguised as love that slowly faded into nothing.

But the worst part wasn’t even that.

The worst part was that Heeseung didn’t even do it on purpose. That’s how stupid he was.

He wasn’t aware of how every word, every sigh he let slip when remembering Chloe, was a dagger to [...]. He didn’t see how his love turned to ashes each time he said her name with nostalgia, with stars in his eyes. He never noticed how, little by little, [...] stopped looking at him with that same spark in his gaze.

[...] stopped being the person he once believed he was. He no longer knew what truly made him happy or what hurt more—staying and being someone’s reminder of the past or leaving and feeling an emptiness no one could ever fill.

So, he did the only thing he could.

He ran.

The cold night streets bore witness to his shattered heart as he wandered aimlessly. His chest burned, his eyes were clouded with tears, and his throat was a knot impossible to untangle. His body trembled—whether from rage, sorrow, or the cruel certainty that he had become nothing more than a ghost within his own relationship, he didn’t know. He was nothing, not even a scrap that some stray could feed on.

His feet carried him to the only person he could think of at that moment.

Jake.

The only one who had never failed him.

When he arrived, he didn’t need to say a word. Jake opened the door, and with just one look, he understood everything. His eyes, filled with that unbreakable tenderness, settled on him with the patience of someone willing to hold him together for as long as it took.

“[...]—..” Jake murmured his name softly, but there was no response. Only the sound of his shaky breathing, his fragile body collapsing against Jake’s as if the last drop of strength had finally left him.

Jake held him. Held him tight, with the desperation of someone who had spent too long longing to protect something that was never his to begin with. That was his life, after all.

"It’s okay, my sun. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m here." Jake whispered into his hair.

But he did speak.

He told him everything. With a broken voice, with pain woven into every word, with the kind of desperation and breathless sobs of someone finally crumbling after carrying too much for too long. He had reached his limit, his hands clinging to Jake, his veins straining as he swallowed down the screams stuck in his throat.

Jake listened. He held him through every tear that soaked his shirt. He stroked his back, calmed him with soft whispers, promised him that everything would be okay. That he didn’t have to bear this alone. That he would never be alone. Because Jake would always be there. He would always be his guardian angel.

And then, without thinking, without a clear reason, it happened.

A kiss.

The kiss was a collision of emotions, a desperate meeting of two wounded souls in the dark.

Jake knew he shouldn’t. Knew he shouldn’t let this happen. But [...] clung to him as if he were his only salvation. And Jake, who had loved him in silence for so long, didn’t have the heart to stop him. Not when he had spent years dreaming of this moment. Not when he had longed so desperately to have him in his arms.

Their lips met in a slow, hesitant brush, unsure at first—until pain and longing pushed them closer. [...]’s tears were still fresh on his cheeks when Jake cupped his face, holding him with a tenderness that contradicted the turmoil inside him.

[...] kissed him with need, searching for something, anything to make him forget, even for just a moment. And Jake let himself be consumed. Let himself pretend, even if only for that one night, that he was the one being loved.

But when the kiss ended, when they were left in silence, foreheads pressed together, reality crept back in.

[...] still loved him. Still loved Heeseung.

And that thought shattered Jake’s heart. All over again.

What happened between them that night was never mentioned again. Never spoken about. Never brought up. There was no need.

But for Jake, that kiss was enough to make him understand one thing:

No matter how much he wished for it.

[...] would never be his.

Or at least, that’s what he believed.

Because time passed, and though the wounds seemed to have healed, the scar remained—silent but ever-present. [...] never spoke of that night with Jake. Never mentioned it again, as if burying it deep enough could make it disappear. But Jake never forgot. Never forgot how Heeseung had left his treasure—his boy—the man he truly loved, in ruins, crying over someone who never knew how to love him back.

And then came that night.

The last night of the year.

Among shimmering lights and clinking glasses, [...] stood alone on the balcony of a New Year’s Eve party, the cold breeze brushing against his skin, the unbearable weight in his chest pressing harder than ever.

Behind him, laughter and music filled the air. Before him, the city stretched wide—a reflection of everything that had changed in his life.

And then—a voice.

A voice he knew all too well. Heeseung.

"[...]— My love, I finally found you! I’ve been looking for you all over the house."

His name, spoken from those lips, still had the power to send a shiver down his spine.

But this time, he didn’t turn right away. This time, his mind didn’t cloud with love or hope. This time, all he felt was the weight of everything he had swallowed down for too long.

Anger.

Jake was at the same party. Watching from a distance. Seeing how the story that had never truly ended was about to explode once more.

This time, [...] wouldn’t stay silent.

Would he?

This time, he was ready to tell the truth.

And when midnight struck, as fireworks painted the sky, Heeseung would finally know what he had spent so long ignoring.

Finally, he would taste a fraction of the pain he had caused.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ Holy shit. And this is just the prologue of what I've been writing for the last 7 months, hope you like it!!︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

[omid-1]

NOT YOUR TYPE ? ✮⋆˙— LHS

Pairing: Popular college student! Heeseung x fem! college student!reader

Summary: Lee Heeseung is a well-known boy at your college from his reputation as a pick-up artist. What happens if your best friend Sora has been seeing him for a few weeks but he is apparently more interested in you?

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, a little angst, college au

Warnings: 18+,mdni, smut, cheating, semi public sex, creampie, doggy style, unresolved feelings,making out, Heeseung is kinda red flag, pet names (slut, good girl, baby, whore etc), dirty talking, fingering, hair pulling,handjob, unprotected sex (don’t do it!), dom!mean heeseung, sub!reader, YN is shitty friend, squirting, fingering, oral (both receiving), deepthroating, cursing, pussy eating, smoking (sorry if I missed sth)

PLAYLIST: Toxic by Britney Spears, Run for the hills by Tate McRae, I was never there by The Weekend, Guilty as sin? by Taylor Swift, Can’t remember to forget you by Shakira, Rihanna, Guilty conscience by Tate McRae

English is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

,, I dont know what you all see in him, but he is not my type”

These are your words about one of the most popular guys on your collage Lee heeseung. He is mostly known for his reputation as a bad boy and a heartbreaker of girls.

Heeseung is by appearance the ideal of every girl. Tall, athletic and has that charm about him that is hard not to give in to.

You have often heard various rumors about him, that he always has to have a girl with him and it is a one-night stand. You don't think you've ever heard that he had a relationship with a girl for more than a few weeks.

He probably and rather certainly doesn’t like to have any permanent relationships. You didn't know him personally so you have no opinion about him, but you believe the rumors.

For a typical boy, he goes to frat parties usually with his two friends Jake and Jay. He doesn't have a lot of friends probably even just those two. He is so popular and doesn't have a lot of friends, a bit surprising, but on the other hand normal since he doesn't like to get attached to anyone.

By a certain point, everything had changed quite a bit. Your friend Sora confessed to you and your friends that she have been texting with a heeseung for few weeks and they have even been to several meetings.

Your friends were curious and happy for her. For you, frankly, there was something strange about it. You’ve heard a lot of things about heeseung. You really doubted that he would change his behavior and settle down with any girl.

He might break your friend's heart like any other girl but as long as she was happy with him then you were too.

You were sitting on your lunch break in the cafeteria at your university. You were sipping coffee and just listening to what your friends were saying about heeseung. When they asked you about your opinion of him they were puzzled.

How was Heeseung not your type?

One of your friends Suji has a very surprised face and she says "dear, I don't think you know what you are saying?"

You giggle quietly, raise an eyebrow and say firmly "Not that there is anything, but I have a feeling that there is something weird about him? Or maybe it's all because of the rumors I've heard about him."

You see that Sora looks at you with a soft smile and she speaks ''I understand YN that you are worried about me. If you want I can meet you with Heeseung cause his friend is holding a party and you can come too.''

You thought it was a good idea because you haven’t been to an party in a long time and secondly you were curious about Heeseung.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

It’s a Saturday night and you walk into the house of Jake, the boy who is organizing the party . You look amazing. You're wearing a short black dress that perfectly accentuates your body, a leather jacket and heeled boots. You also decided to put on delicate make up.

You go with your friends Sora,Suji and Nari to the kitchen for drinks. For a typical party, it's crowded and loud with conversation and music.

Nari pours you vodka and some liquor. You notice that jay and heeseung enter the kitchen. Sora, all in larks, approaches Heeseung with the biggest smile.

You sip your drink and keep more to the side of the conversation. You catch eye contact with heeseung and gently smile at him, but he doesn’t reciprocate the smile but looks the other way.

The whole evening passes you quite normally as for any party. You drink, dance and talk with friends. As for Heeseung, you have to admit that he is suspicious even very much.

Sora keeps sticking next to Heeseung all the night, talking to him, and you get the feeling that he is not interested in her at all. But what caught your attention is, you constantly feel and see Heeseung's gaze on you. It doesn't matter if you say something or just sit in silence.

His eyes are on you.

You feel a little uncomfortable with this but you try not to pay attention to it. What else has caught your attention is, when you say something in a circle of friends and heeseung is there he always interrupts you, changes the topic or just makes a comment.

It annoys you because you haven't even exchanged a word with him this evening or even in your entire life and he already looks like he has some problem to you that you don't know.

Jay suggested that you play a game of bottle. You sit in a circle on the ground in a room upstairs where it's quieter.

You start the game. At the beginning the bottle draws Jake. He chooses the dare. You are not too focused on what is happening in the game.

Not when there's a heeseung sitting in front of you. You think to yourself did he always look so good, or was it you who never noticed it?

You stare at him. Then the bottle draws you Nuri awakens you from your thoughts. She says loudly "YN Your turn! Truth or dare?"

You shake yourself off and panic. What if someone noticed you staring at him? You quickly answer "truth”

For a moment you look at your friend, but then heeseung speaks „Can I choose?"

Your heart beat faster when, for the first time that evening, Heeseung said something to you or rather proposed something.

You nod and you're already worried about what he wants to ask you ,,which boy in this group is most your type and which is least?"

Heeseung looks at you intensely and has a stupidly attractive grin. It intimidates you and you can't keep eye contact with him. You know how much you can screw up with your answer and you panic.

,,Most my type? Probably Jake and the least Heeseung”

You bite your lip nervously and your face is flushed. You quickly cast a glance at the heeseung and God. His smile is gone and he looks so serious now. It's as if he's pissed off for your answer. Somehow it makes him even more attractive.

But you don't regret your answer because, nevertheless, you knew how your friend is in love with him up to his ears (although you can see that he doesn’t reciprocate it) and even earlier you told your friends that he is not your.

Well, you told, most likely it has changed, right?

After the game is over, you go out to the backyard to take a breath of fresh air. You sit down on the terrace steps. You are already tired and you want to go home.

Suddenly you hear footsteps behind you. You turn around. You see heeseung who walks towards you. As he gets closer he asks "Can I sit here?"

You nod. He sits down keeping distance between you. You watch as he removes cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.

He lights a cigarette and it's not hard to miss the way you stare at him. But who wouldn't when he looks so sexy?

The light from the terrace highlights his sharp facial features and strands of hair lie perfectly on his forehead. You wouldn't think smoking a cigarette could be such a hot sight.

Heeseung notices you staring and his smile widens. He lets the smoke slowly out of his mouth and he says „I thought Im not your type”

You look ahead and keep a stone face. You can't show him any emotion because, however, it would be unfair of you because he is your friend's love interest.

,,shouldn't you be with sora?” You don't answer his words but you speak coldly and raise an eyebrow.

He doesn’t hide his smile and shrugs his shoulders ,, she is probably very drunk and having a good time with girls or some other boy"

You roll your eyes and sigh. However, you weren’t wrong about heeseung. He is a typical boy who plays with girls' feelings

But why doesn't it repulse you? You only have the impression that when you look at him he is getting more and more handsome by the second?

Heeseung moves toward you. You sit so close that your knees touch. You look at him as he lets the smoke out of his mouth, and damn when he is so close to you you are literally intoxicated by his presence.

„you want?"

Heeseung offers you his cigarette and normally you would refuse, but now you can't think rationally so you agree. You are lost in the way your faces are close and the way he looks at you

„open your mouth, baby," he says, and you follow his command. He takes a drag on his cigarette and then slowly lifts your chin . He brings his lips closer to yours so that they meet.

He slowly releases the smoke into your mouth. All the while you look intensely once at his mouth and once at his eyes. You let the smoke out of your mouth and cough. His smile is teasing and full of satisfaction.

Your heart beat fast. You feel the wetness in your panties. you didn't think you would like it so much.

"so pretty" he whispers as he gently touches your lips and looks at them carefully.

You know that what you did is so wrong and you don't know how you will look into your friend's eyes the next day. But why when heeseung is close to you you feel so good?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

When you return to the university after the weekend, you didn't think it would be so difficult. After the whole situation with heeseung you feel like collapsing to the ground and not talking to Sora .

You know perfectly well that you did wrong, but as much as you want to, you can't forget about the heeseung.

Since that incident with the cigarette, you think about him all the time about his lips that gently brushed yours and the way he looked at you.

Your fantasies about him are expanding all the time. You know that avoiding him will be difficult.

But no matter how much you want him you won't do anything with him because you don't want to lose your friend.

You are awakened from your thoughts by your friend Suji. She says loudly waving her hand in front of your face ,,helloooo!!?? land to YN!!!"

You shake yourself off, straighten up in your seat and ask „What happened?"

„ just what's going on that you're so thoughtful today?," your friend asks as she jots down some notes on her laptop

You sigh and shrug your shoulders "I don't know, I didn't get enough sleep I guess"

You are in a lecture and you totally can't concentrate because your brain is filled with thoughts. Specifically, thoughts of heeseung.

„Are you sure? You look as if something is bothering you. You know you can always talk to me," she says with a pleasant smile and looks at you warmly.

You know that Suji is always for you when you need her and you can talk to her in any situation. But you don't think you're ready to talk about heeseung.

„I know Suji, but really everything is fine," you assure her and reciprocate the smile.

You have one last lecture left. You're left to attend it alone because Suji went home faster because she has some errands to run.

You're looking through your phone when suddenly you see a heeseung enter the room. Your heart beat faster. You didn't know he was coming to the sociology lectures. But then you saw that Sora is with him.

You pray that they don't notice you because you really don't know how you're going to handle it. But it's different your friend waves to you and walks towards you with Heeseung.

You smile at her as genuinely as you can. She sits down next to you, with a heeseung beside her. You catch eye contact with him, but quickly break it off.

All the while you are talking to Sora or listening to what the lecturer is saying. The fact that the heeseung doesn't pay attention to you or even look at you drives you crazy.

He keeps his hand on your friend's thigh and listens to a lecture or checks something on his phone.

You hate to admit it but you really thought the small talk and the situation at the party meant something.

On the other hand, maybe it's better that it doesn't mean anything and you let it go.

Fifteen minutes before the end of the lecture, Sora has to leave because she said she has a doctor and can't be late.

As the girl leaves the room you look at the heeseung. His gaze is directed toward the lecturer.

Since Sora left the room neither of you is paying attention to each other, but you can sense the tension between you. You are separated by one seat.

Something inside you tells you to talk to him but your mind tells you to do nothing and ignore him.

After the lecture is over, you pack your things in your bag. You want to leave as soon as possible to avoid having any conversation with Heeseung.

As you leave the lecture, you are stopped by Heeseung. He puts his hand on your wrist and asks calmly ,, Are you in a hurry?”

You look in his direction and he already has that silly grin on his face. You want to be independent of him and get away from him as soon as possible

„Apparently yes" you answer without feeling

,,why are you always so mean to me?" He raises and makes a feigned sad face

You sigh and cross your arms. You can't believe him. Just a moment ago he was avoiding you, and now suddenly he wants your attention.

"I'm not mean, I just don't have time" you reply. You walk down the hallway and he follows you

„oh come on darling. Can't you find time for me?" he replies while maintaining eye contact and the smile on his face widens

You have to admit that the way he calls you darling induces butterflies in your stomach. You stop and look straight into his eyes. it's really hard not to succumb to his charms

,,what do you want Heeseung?” you ask and raise an eyebrow

A teasing smile appeared on his lips and a hint of mischief in his eyes

,, I want you YN”

At his words, warmth spread through your body. they had a profound effect on you

You feel the heeseung take your hand and lead you to equipment room. You let go of his hand and see him turn on the light. You don’t understand what he wants to do.

,,heeseung, what ar-?”

You feel his lips on yours. His hands tighten on your waist and he draws you as close to him as possible.

You moan into his mouth and, pull away from each other. Heeseung puts his forehead against yours. When you are so close to each other you can't think of anything else but him.

But in the back of your mind you have your friend all the time. You know how much she cares about heeseung. When he notices that you are thoughtful he gently lifts your chin

„don't think too much doll, we both know how much we want it”

You look directly into his eyes. his words and eyes show pure sincerity. It's as if Heeseung is the devil and you can't resist his temptation to sin.

You think fuck it. you will worry about the consequences later. You attract him closer to you.

Your lips meet violently. Your hands travel to the nape of his neck, gently weaving into his hair. Your chests are as close together as possible.

The kiss becomes deep and full of hunger. It is as if you are relieving all the tension between you. You feel that heeseung explores your lips with his tongue and you moan.

Time between the two of you ceased to exist. Every touch of your lips becomes more and more intense and greedy.

You pull away from each other and catch your breath. You look up at him and your hand lands on his clothed growing dick.

You have to admit that even when he is wearing boxers and pants you can feel that he is massive.

„ do you want to suck my cock like a good whore?" Heeseung smiles teasingly and says in a deep voice

He doesn't have to ask you twice because you immediately fall to your knees in front of him. Your pussy becomes wet just at the thought of giving him head.

Slowly and teasingly you unbutton his pants. Then you take off his boxers. Heeseung is impatient.

,,don’t tease doll”

A massive and thick heeseung cock appears in front of you. He has veins on his shaft and his tip is already all in pre cum.

You stare at his length. honestly you don't know if he will fit all the way down your throat let alone into your pussy.

„Baby, don't you know what to do? Should I show you?" He says with a hint of meanness and filter.

Heeseung holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulls your face to his cock. You start licking his tip. All the while you hold eye contact with him.

You take more and more of his length into your mouth. what you can't take in you massage with your hand.

Heeseung continues to hold your hair in a ponytail and leans his head against the wall behind him. his face contorts with pleasure.

He wants to close his eyes and enjoy the pleasure you give him, but he doesn't want to miss a single moment of you sucking his cock.

You lick and suck his length from top to bottom. And with your other hand you massage his balls. Heeseung breathes hard and moans

,, take all my cook, slut” Heeseung begins to push your head more and his cock touches your throat.

You practically choke on it, but you try to breathe through your nose. You should be embarrassed by all that he's doing, but it's makes your panties all wet

,, f-uck, baby so good”

Heeseung starts moaning louder and louder as he pushes his cock down your throat. You, at the same time, lick and suck his length. you keep your hands on his thighs.

He feels like he's in heaven. Your lips surround his cock so perfectly. he knows that he’s close.

Tears fly from your eyes and you choke on his length, but all you want is to be used by him as he is doing now.

„Mmm my pretty little slut. What would Sora say if she saw how eager you are for me?"

Heeseung pushes into your mouth the last few times. You chuckle more and more.

,,fuck, I-m cummingg!!!!” heeseung pours his cum down your throat and you feel the salty taste.

"Swallow it all," he commands you as you keep eye contact.

Heeseung has ever gotten a better head. His orgasm was so intense. You swallow all his semen and then show him your tongue.

,, good girl” he praises you when he catches his breath and helps you up.

He puts on his pants and boxers and draws you in for a kiss, but you pull away and say

,,I should go”

„can't I at least repay you?" Heeseung walks over to you, gently touches your shoulders and looks at you calmly

,,no, you don’t have to” you assure him as you pick up your bag from the floor and leave the equipment room without a word.

Heeseung stands in a stupor. He can't believe that you just left like that. He himself doesn't know if it's because you didn't want it or if it's because of remorse.

But on the other hand heeseung knows that he has rather changed your opinion of him and you can no longer say that he is not your type.

No matter how much you avoid him he knows that you won't be able to handle it and will quickly return to him.

Before he was even seeing Sora he noticed you at the university. At first sight, he thought you were a pretty girl and had something about you that the others didn't have. He knew he wanted to have you.

When he started his relationship with your friend all was well. but he was bored. It was too normal and he doesn't like permanent relationships.

But when he found out that sora was your friend? He knew he couldn't leave her because he wanted to reach you somehow.

Always if he wanted something, he must have it.

When at the party you said that he is not your type he went crazy. Since then he wants you even more. He just wants to prove you wrong.

Heeseung just isn't sure of one thing whether he just wants a relationship with benefits or something more. But is it possible for him to change for you?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

Since the last incident with Heeseung, you have been avoiding him like a fire. You have a big guilty conscience about betraying your friend. But you also regret that you left heeseung so abruptly in equipment room without a word.

Every day more and more you can't talk to sora normally because all you have in front of your eyes is heeseung and what you did with him.

You know that your feelings for him are only growing and you hate it. Even if you want to forget him it's impossible because Sora keeps talking about him and now heeseung is in the same group of friends as you.

And besides, he doesn't let you forget about him. Practically every day before you come to the lecture hall someone ( or more precisely you are convinced that it is heeseung) puts a coffee on your table and to it a leaf with some kind words or once anonymously someone sent you flowers to your dormitory.

These little gestures are very kind, and you wonder if he does it just for you or for every girl he wants to have.

But even if you want to find out you'd rather not keep in touch with Heeseung because it's better for everyone.

You sit in your typical cafeteria seat and wait for your friends. Sora approaches the table and you smile slightly at her.

She has bags under her eyes, looks sleep-deprived and sad. She smiles weakly at you

,,Hi YN”

She sits down next to you and looks like a human wreck. You become concerned and ask calmly

,,What happened Sora? You look tired and sad ”

She sighs,looks ahead and puts her hands on the table

,,Heeseung told me that our relationship is pointless and he doesn't want to get involved in it” she speaks weakly and you can see the pain on her face .

You almost choke on your coffee when you hear what says. You bite your lip slightly. Honestly expected that this is how this relationship could come out

,,I’m so sorry Sora” You respond by looking at her. you can see how broken she is.

,,You were right he is a typical fuck boy who will never find a girlfriend”

You listen to her and nod. You feel so stupid that you are sitting next to her and she knows nothing about your feelings for him. However, you prefer not to take any chances and say nothing about it.

,,Don't break down like that. you are amazing and pretty and I’m sure you will find a boyfriend a thousand times better than heeseung ” you smile and draw her into a hug

,, thanks YN, for always being for me when I need you” Sora smiles faintly and mumbles as you hug each other

,, always” you answer and feel guilty, but at least now you know that there is nothing between her and heeseung anymore.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

You are at the birthday party of one of your friends Sunghoon. You have known each other since high school and then by some chance you ended up at the same university.

You are alone at the party without your friends. They couldn't come because they have work or study. You have to rely on yourself tonight.

You walk into the kitchen to pour yourself a drink of some sort and see Jake. Your heart beat faster because probably heeseung is also here.

„hey YN! I didn't know you'd be here" when he notices you, he smiles.

,,I didn’t expect to see you here either” you reciprocate his smile and softly hug each other in greeting.

You talk with him for a while. Jake is a really fun guy. He's very easy to like and talk to. You are not surprised that he is one of the close friends of Heeseung.

Without being noticed by you Heeseung enters the kitchen. A shadow of frustration flashes in his eyes but he tries to control himself when he saw you with Jake.

Jake notices how Heeseung stares at you with hard and burning eyes.

,,I guess someone is jealous of you” Jake whispers in your ear and a little at first you don’t understand what he means.

You turn around and see Heeseung who is already looking at you intensely. You feel your heart beating harder. And damn you like how his attention is devoted only to you.

A wave of heat spreads through your body. you feel like making him even more jealous.

You stand closer to Jake as you listen to him say something. You don't notice but some girl walks up to Heeseung.

However, he doesn’t care at all about what the girl next to him is talking to him. His gaze is completely focused on you.

He feels a tightening in his stomach. He's frustrated with how close you stand to Jake and the fact that you're taking time for him.

He doesn't want anyone else to have you but him.

The girl who talks to him walks away from him when she sees that he is not interested in her. He takes a quick step toward you

„YN can we talk?" he says as calmly as he can although irritation and jealousy were visible in his eyes.

You nod. you feel that Heeseung grips your wrist tightly and pulls you outside .

„Heeseung, what the fuck are you doing?" You ask in frustration

You are facing each other. You see his eyes darken.

,, you even ask!? You’ve been avoiding me for a week and now you’re fucking my best with your eyes!” he replies with sarcasm and shakes his head in disbelief.

You cross your arms and can't believe that he is still going to tell you what to do and what not to do.

‚’Heeseung! Pull yourself together! you were the one who hit on my best friend and probably every girl in this university and now all of a sudden you care about me!” you raise your voice and look at him coldly

He laughs dryly and sarcastically. He is so annoyed but at the same time he wants you so much.

,,YN, the only person who should pull is you! Will you ever fucking understand that the only one I want is you!?” your faces are close together. When he said he only wants you, you breathe hard and look straight into his eyes.

’’no heeseung, I won’t, you probab-’’

He interrupts you in mid-sentence and pulls your body to the wall.

He closes the gap between you and starts kissing your lips. He puts his hands on your waist. You deepen the kiss by putting your hands behind his neck.

There is not an inch of space between you. You feel the heat beating from his body. From second to second the kiss is more and more passionate and impatient.

You couldn't satiate each other. You moan when you feel his lips that explore your lips.

You pull away slightly from each other and catch eye contact

„Should I prove to you even more that you are the only one I want?" He says in a deep sincere voice and raises an eyebrow

You turn your head and look at him with dark eyes. You already miss his touch.

When you enter heeseung's dormitory you lips immediately connect again. His hands are on you. He slid down to your neck. He stars sucking and licking your collarbone as he pulls you towards the door.

„mmm heeseung" you moan in pleasure as you close your eyes. You keep your hands in his hair.

While kissing, Heeseung leads you to his bedroom. He closes the door behind him. you lie down on the bed and he is over you.

You didn't look too closely at the surroundings, but his room is normal has desk, bed and closet. There's not even a mess here

You put your hands on his shoulders and look at him. He looks so hot. His hair is disheveled, his lips reddened and swollen from your earlier kiss

Heeseung smiles teasingly when he sees you looking at him.

”Hmm, didn’t you say something like I’m not your type?”

Heeseung slowly pulls down your dress. You mutter quietly. He sees that you are not wearing a bra. He curses

”fuck, look what a desperate slut you are”

You gasp and squirm under him as he purposely slowly removes your dress.

,,Hee pleas- don’t tease” you beg him when you keep your hands on his shoulders.

His smile widens. he looks at your body as if it were gold although to him it is just that. He touches your hips sensually and pulls your dress all the way down.

You are left in just skimpy panties. At the very sight of you heeseung gets hard. He has only the thought in his head to fuck you.

He removes your panties and lays down between your thighs. Your pussy is already wet and eager for him

,,such a pretty pussy. I’m sure it will taste so sweet” He starts drawing circles on your clit with two fingers. You squirm under him and want more

”pleaseee… I want more-ee”

Heeseung at your plea puts his lips to your pussy and licks your juices. You moan for him so pathetically. You are convinced that you won't last long when he eats you so well

He inserts two fingers into your pussy and his bluntness immediately increases. He hits every spots perfectly with his long fingers.

Heeseung speeds up licking your folds and you start riding his lips.

,,my goddd, heeseung it’s sooo goo-d” you mutter loudly. Your nails dug into his shoulders leaving marks.

Your eyes twisting backwards with delight. Heeseung has his eyes closed. He is focused on your lovely moans and on your pussy. He wants to bring you to the best orgasm you've ever had.

,, godd- I’m cummingg!!!” you scream with pleasure

Heeseung when he hears your moans speeds up sucking and kissing your clit. He adds a third finger to your pussy and quickly fingers you while hitting every perfect spot. You feel so full.

,,cum on my face baby, show me how good whore you are for me” he purrs. He doesn't stop abusing your pussy with his fingers and mouth

You cum on his fingers and lips while moaning his name loudly. You are dizzy from how intensely you have come.

You catch your breath and look at Heeseung. His mouth is all in your juices. He licks his fingers which are all in your semen.

It is such a hot sight and you are horny again. Heeseung puts his fingers to your lips and he says

”open your mouth”

At his request you open your mouth. You suck and taste yourself on his fingers.

”good girl”

Heeseung looks at you and thinks he's about to go crazy. You're so beautiful when you're lying underneath him and completely submitting to him.

„please heeseung, I want more” you beg as you draw him into a kiss. The kiss is passionate and you taste yourself on his tongue

Heeseung's cock is already so hard. You help him pull off his shirt and then he pulls down his pants and boxers. You look at his body.

When he notices this he smirks, raises an eyebrow and teases, "You like the view, don’t you?

You nod and run your hand over his muscular chest . By your touch he is even harder if possible.

”You are so impatient" he smiles as he touches your cheek and looks at your eyes. Something about this moment is intimate and real. Your hearts beat hard as you are warmed by each other's touch.

”Lie down on your stomach baby," he practically gives you an order. You lie down. You are already excited about what is to come.

Heeseung crouches behind you. He spanks your ass and you moan. You are already so horny. Heeseung runs his finger over your slit and mocks you

„you are so wet again and I haven’t done anything yet”

Heeseung thrusts into your pussy slowly. You feel your walls clench his cock perfectly. When he's buried all the way inside you. you moan and feel so full. You know you won't last long

„Your pussy receives me so good," he praises you as he begins to move inside you.

He holds your hair with one hand and the other on your neck. He begins to choke you. This is a new experience for you, but you enjoy it and moan even more.

„you like how I choke you, huh?" Heeseung asks as he pushes into you hard. All you can hear in the room are the lewd and pornographic sounds of him pounding into your pussy and your moans.

,,you are such a dirty girl for me"

Heeseung doesn't stop fucking you. You have the feeling that with each passing moment his cock is hitting deeper and deeper into your cervix.

,, heeseung!!! myyy go-ddd” You scream in pleasure. your mouth twists out of pleasure into an ,,o" shape. You feel that you are close.

„Will you cum on my cock slut?" he asks as he pulls you close tugging at your hair. You like it so much when he treats you so roughly

Your eyes twist and a wave of pleasure sweeps over your body. Your legs shake as you squirt on his cock. He thrusts into you hard one last time and paints your walls white.

You catch your breath as heeseung slowly removes his cock from your pussy. You have a mess between your legs from your sperm.

You feel sore. You know that you won't be able to walk the next day.

You lie down on his bed. Heeseung goes out to the bathroom to fetch a towel. You wonder what will happen next if what you did was a one-time thing or if it will happen again.

Somewhere inside you there are further fears and you feel as if you are betraying your friend. You know how she would hate you if she found out what you did with him. But on the other hand when you are with him you feel like the whole world doesn't exist.

You are awakened from your thoughts by a heeseung that begins to cleanse you. He asks calmly "What are you thinking about so much?"

You look at him and sigh , "probably about our relationship".

He nods and sets the towel down on the table. He draws you close and you lie in each other's arms.

„How do you want it to look now?" Heeseung asks as he gently combed through your hair.

You're not sure if Heeseung wants to involve you in your relationship and even if it does you're worried about your friendship with Sora

„I don't know Heeseung, but I know there is something between us and I don't want it to end," you answer and surprise yourself that you dared to say it. You think maybe it's time to be honest and put yourself and your needs first

Heeseung nods and a smile appears on his ,, so am I your type after all?” He teases

„shut up" you giggle and say jokingly

The future between you is uncertain because you both don't quite know what you want in your compiled relationship. But so far you are happy to have each other to some extent.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

Thank you for reading!

author note: sooo this is my third fanfic!!! I hope you like it! ❤︎ I wanted to give up several times while writing it lmaooo it was so exhausting hehe. Let me know in comments what you think about it ^^ <33

[kireistrawberryjayla]

𓍼ֶ⊹ ࣪˖𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽⋆˚꩜

Intro: Princess Y/N, the daughter of the king’s mistress, lives a lonely and isolated life in the castle. Her mother and sister treat her poorly, while her half-brother, Heeseung, keeps a distant yet somewhat protective relationship with her. One day, Y/N meets Prince Jongseong, who shows her kindness when he buys her art supplies after she runs out. Y/N is moved by his actions. However, her happiness is short-lived as she overhears Jongseong talking with Eunjin, Meanwhile, Heeseung grows frustrated with Y/N's closeness to Jongseong,Y/N is torn between the kindness she receives from Jongseong and the harsh reality of her position, unsure of who truly cares for her.

Warning- It's just a fanfiction girly pop aka not real

Chapter one

A gust of wind blew past, rustling her pages. Y/N reached out to hold them down when a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

"You should add some shading here. It would make the horse look more alive."

Startled, Y/N looked up to find Prince Park Jongseong standing beside her. His dark brown eyes studied her sketch, his expression unreadable. He had been one of Heeseung’s friends, always part of the group she could never approach.

She hesitated before murmuring, "You... you think so?"

Jongseong gave a small nod. "Yeah. You’re really talented."

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment. No one had ever praised her art before.

Princess Lee Y/N was the daughter of the king’s mistress, a fact that dictated her entire existence within the palace walls. She had two half-siblings—Prince Lee Heeseung and Princess Lee Eunjin. Unlike Heeseung and Eunjin, who were respected as the king’s legitimate children, Y/N was often overlooked, treated as an outsider even within her own home.

Her mother and sister made no effort to hide their disdain for her, while Heeseung, though cold and distant, was not as cruel. At times, he would help her in small ways, but he never let their bond grow beyond that.

Y/N was an innocent soul who preferred the quiet solace of her art. While her siblings surrounded themselves with friends, she spent most of her time alone, lost in sketches and paintings that became her only true companions.

Today, the castle was lively with guests. Princess Eunjin and her friends were gathered in the royal garden for an elegant tea party, their laughter ringing through the air. Meanwhile, Prince Heeseung and his friends—Prince Sim Jayun, Prince Park Sunghoon, and Prince Park Jongseong—were at the racecourse, riding their horses with ease and excitement.

Y/N sat beneath a tree in the garden, her sketchbook resting on her lap. She watched them from a distance, her fingers moving carefully as she captured the scene before her, that's when with a gush of wind the papers flew away. She longed to be included, to laugh and play alongside them.But, as always, they never even looked her way.

Or so she thought.

Prince Jongseong!" Princess Eunjin’s voice rang out from the tea table, sharp and demanding. "What are you doing over there?"

Jongseong didn’t move immediately. Instead, he turned his head slightly and replied with a calm, almost amused tone, "Just looking at something interesting."

And for the first time in her life, Princess Lee Y/N felt seen.

She wasn’t used to this. Attention. Kindness.

Jongseong was still crouched beside her, his eyes fixed on her sketchbook. "Do you draw often?" he asked, his voice smooth yet genuinely curious.

Y/N hesitated before nodding slightly. "I do… it’s something I enjoy."

Jongseong hummed, his fingers tracing the air above her drawing as if seeing more than just lines and shapes. "It shows. Your strokes are confident, and your details are impressive."

She swallowed hard. No one had ever spoken to her like this before—not as if she were some forgotten shadow in the castle, but as if she mattered.

"Jongseong," Heeseung’s voice interrupted, his tone neutral but firm. Y/N glanced up to see her older brother approaching, his expression unreadable. "The others are waiting. Are you coming?"

Jongseong’s gaze flickered between Heeseung and Y/N. For a moment, it seemed like he might leave without another word, just like everyone always did. But then, to Y/N’s surprise, he turned back to her.

"May I see more of your sketches sometime?" he asked.

Y/N’s lips parted slightly in shock. Someone wanted to see her drawings? Her hands tightened around the edges of her sketchbook, nerves bubbling in her chest. But she found herself nodding. "O-Okay…"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Jongseong’s lips, brief but genuine. Then, with one last glance at her drawing, he stood up and walked toward Heeseung, rejoining the others.

Y/N watched him go, her fingers brushing over the page he had complimented. She wasn’t sure why, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel completely alone.

Chapter two

Prince Jongseong was known throughout the kingdom for his cold demeanor. Strict, reserved, and often seen as rude, he wasn’t someone who easily showed kindness. Beneath his frosty exterior, however, there was a complexity few had the patience to unravel. If one were to spend enough time with him, they might notice the faint glimmers of sweetness hidden deep within—though these moments were rare, and most people were content to keep their distance.

For Y/N, Jongseong was a figure she feared. His presence made her uneasy, even from childhood. His cold stares, harsh words, and aloof nature had never made her feel welcome. There were times when his gaze seemed to pierce through her, as if he could see every flaw, every mistake she had made. But despite this fear, something about him intrigued her. She could never understand why he was so distant or why he kept everyone at arm's length.

It had been years since they had even spoken—until today.

This was the first time Y/N had a proper conversation with him, and it left her conflicted. As they sat together, there was an awkward silence between them, one that was filled with years of unspoken words. But when Jongseong spoke, his tone wasn’t as cold as she had expected. It was distant, yet something else flickered in his voice—something almost human.

The truth was, Jongseong and the other princes always knew Y/N’s background. They knew she was the daughter of the king’s mistress, a title that often made her the subject of scorn and ridicule in the royal palace. His older brother, Heeseung, had made sure of that.

For most of her life, Y/N had been invisible to them, and they never tried to interact with her. They kept their distance, not because they hated her, but because they feared what Heeseung might do if they got too close. Heeseung had a certain authority over the other princes, especially when it came to Y/N. He wasn’t kind to her, but he didn’t want anyone else to be either.

There were a few rare moments in Y/N’s childhood when she had tried to reach out to the princes. Prince Jaehyun, for example, had once shown her a sliver of kindness. They had been in the garden one afternoon, with Y/N quietly drawing as usual, when Jaehyun had approached her. He had asked her about her art, and for a moment, Y/N had felt like she belonged.

"Your drawings are very beautiful," Jaehyun had said, his voice warm. "You should show them to the king one day."

Y/N had smiled, a little shy, but thankful for his words.

But that had been the beginning of the end of their brief friendship.

Not long after that conversation, Princess Eunjin had caught wind of their exchange. Her cold glare had been enough to make Jaehyun freeze. That evening, Y/N overheard Eunjin warning Jaehyun not to speak to her again.

"Do you really want to be seen talking to a child of the mistress?" Eunjin had asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Father doesn’t like it. You’re only inviting trouble."

Jaehyun had been hesitant, but he didn’t argue. From that day onward, he kept his distance, just like everyone else.

The isolation Y/N had felt in those days had been unbearable. The few moments of kindness from Jaehyun had been crushed, and with it, her hope of ever having a genuine connection in the royal family.

As Y/N sat now, trying to make sense of her feelings for Jongseong, she couldn’t help but wonder: Could there be kindness hidden behind the icy wall he built around himself? And if so, would she ever be able to reach it?

Chapter three

The next few days passed in a blur. Y/N couldn’t shake the memory of her brief conversation with Prince Jongseong. It lingered in her mind, reminding her of how different it was from the usual cold silence she received from him and everyone else.

She spent most of her time in the garden, drawing, trying to lose herself in her art. It had become her escape—her sanctuary from the world that always seemed to ignore or look down on her. Even the wind felt gentler as it brushed past her, as though it understood her need for solitude.

But despite her attempts to focus, Y/N kept finding herself looking toward the courtyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jongseong or the others.

She hadn’t expected him to approach her again. After all, he was just being polite the last time, wasn’t he? A moment of kindness in a sea of indifference.

But what if it wasn’t?

It was late afternoon when Y/N sat on a stone bench beneath the large oak tree in the garden, her sketchbook open on her lap. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. She was adding delicate details to her drawing of the garden when she heard footsteps approaching.

Startled, she looked up and her breath caught in her throat.

Prince Jongseong.

He wasn’t with the others. He was alone.

Y/N’s heart fluttered nervously, and she instinctively lowered her gaze to her sketchbook, as though pretending to focus on her drawing might make her less noticeable.

But Jongseong stopped in front of her.

“I see you’re still drawing.” His voice was as cold as ever, but there was something different in his tone—something softer.

Y/N didn’t answer at first. She wasn’t sure what to say. After a long moment, she looked up, her voice barely above a whisper. “I enjoy it… It helps me think.”

Jongseong nodded, his gaze drifting down to her sketchbook. “It’s... impressive.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his compliment. She wasn’t sure if it was his way of being polite or if he truly meant it, but the fact that he had noticed at all made her feel warm inside.

“Thank you,” she murmured, trying to hide the sudden rush of emotions she felt.

There was a brief silence between them, the kind that Y/N had become accustomed to in the presence of anyone else in the castle.

Then, unexpectedly, Jongseong spoke again. “I’ve noticed you… I mean, I’ve seen you around the castle before, but we’ve never really spoken.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes wide. “W-What do you mean?”

Jongseong tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “You keep to yourself. Always drawing. Always alone.” He paused, his voice softening just a little. “It’s... different from the others.”

Y/N’s heart sank slightly. She didn’t want to feel pitied. “I don’t mind being alone,” she said quickly. “It’s just easier this way.”

For a moment, Jongseong didn’t speak. He seemed to be considering her words carefully. Then he crouched down beside her, close enough that she could feel his presence but far enough to give her space.

“You don’t have to be alone, you know,” he said quietly.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

Jongseong met her eyes for the first time since their conversation had begun. His gaze was intense, but there was something in it—something genuine—that made Y/N feel both vulnerable and safe.

“You’re allowed to have friends. People who care about you,” he continued. “Even if they’re not like the others.”

Y/N felt the lump in her throat growing, the weight of his words sinking in. She had spent her entire life believing she didn’t deserve any of that, that no one could care about her in the way he was suggesting.

“But…” she started, her voice shaking. “What about my... my family?”

Jongseong’s eyes darkened for a moment, but his expression remained steady. “They don’t define who you are, Y/N. You’re not your mother’s daughter or Eunjin’s sister. You’re yourself. And maybe that’s worth more than you think.”

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Prince Jongseong, the cold and distant figure she had always feared, was actually speaking to her like she mattered.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and for the first time in her life, she dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

Before she could say anything else, Jongseong stood up. “I’ll leave you to your drawing,” he said, his voice returning to its usual calm tone. “But I’ll be around… if you need anything.”

Y/N watched him walk away, her mind racing. The words he had spoken were still echoing in her head, and her heart beat faster with each passing second.

Could it be possible? Was there really a chance for someone like her to find a place where she truly belonged?

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/N stared at the fading light, a new sense of hope blossoming in her chest.

Hubbbyyyyyyy hehe💗🙌🏻

Enddddd....for now dw

So do we love it ??? If you do tell me, so I was thinking I'll make like 10 chapters for this fanfiction, but if you guys don't like it that much I'll get it done faster and start writing something else, SO LET ME KNOWWWWW✨✨

LOVE YA GUYSSS BYEE 💗 !?

[jakesaverse]

LOVE IN THE LITTLE THINGS | SUNGHOON

sunghoon x reader

synopsis: you and sunghoon agreed to skip Valentine’s Day this year, but neither could resist showing your love in small, meaningful ways.

word count: 831

author notes: I know Valentine’s Day isn’t here yet, but here’s a special treat for you all! Hope you enjoy it!

————————————————————————————-

The cold February air follows you as you make your way home, the weight of exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Work had been long, draining, and all you could think about was curling up in bed with Sunghoon, feeling the warmth of his embrace chase away the day’s stress.

But as tired as you are, you can’t help but smile down at the small paper bag in your hands. Inside sits a heart-shaped donut, freshly bought from the little bakery next to your job. It’s nothing extravagant, but it means something.

You and Sunghoon had agreed to skip Valentine’s this year. Money was tight, and neither of you could afford fancy gifts or elaborate plans. It made sense, and yet… you couldn’t resist. Sunghoon had been your rock for the past three years, the person who made every tough day a little easier, every small moment feel like something worth cherishing. Even if it was just a simple donut, you wanted to do something for him.

With that thought in mind, you finally reach your apartment, unlocking the door with a familiar click. But as you step inside, you freeze.

The usually dim space is glowing with soft, golden light. Fairy lights are draped across the walls, casting a warm hue over the small living room. Tiny candles flicker on the coffee table, their gentle flames illuminating an array of snacks—your favorite chips, a neatly arranged stack of chocolate bars, and even a steaming cup of instant ramen.

And in the middle of it all stands Sunghoon.

He looks almost shy, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, lips curling into that familiar, boyish smile that never fails to make your heart stutter.

“I…” You struggle to find the words, your eyes flickering between him and the cozy setup he’s created. “Sunghoon, what is all this?”

He takes a step toward you, eyes filled with nothing but warmth. “I know we agreed not to do anything this year,” he says softly, “but how could I not?”

Your heart swells at his words. Sunghoon has never been the type for grand gestures or overly dramatic declarations of love, but he doesn’t need to be. His love is quiet, steady—woven into the little things, like making sure your favorite snacks are always stocked or holding you close when the world feels too heavy.

A small laugh escapes you, shaking your head as you step forward. “You’re unbelievable.”

He chuckles, tilting his head. “I get that a lot.”

Without another word, you reach into your bag and pull out the heart-shaped donut, holding it up between you. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to listen.”

His eyes flicker to the donut, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Unbelievable,” he teases, mimicking your earlier tone. “We’re both terrible at following rules.”

You let out a soft laugh before he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in the kind of hug that makes the rest of the world fade away. He smells like home—like fresh laundry and the faintest hint of the cologne you got him last year.

His arms tighten around you, like he never wants to let go. And for a while, neither of you do.

Then, he slowly pulls back, his hands cupping your face with gentle familiarity. His thumbs brush over your cheeks as he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s slow, unhurried—like he’s savoring the moment, like you’re the only thing that matters.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “Happy Valentine’s to my favorite girl.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Favorite girl?”

Sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head as he lets out a quiet laugh. “My only girl.”

“That’s more like it.”

He grins, stealing another quick kiss before tugging you toward the couch. “Come on, I got all your favorites. And yes, before you ask, I left the last chocolate bar for you because I’m obviously the best boyfriend ever.”

Your jaw drops in playful disbelief. “No way. The last chocolate bar? You must really love me.”

Sunghoon smirks, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “Obviously.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips as you settle in beside him. The two of you spend the night exactly like this—sharing snacks, making dumb jokes, and laughing so hard your stomach hurts.

Despite your tiny apartment, despite the lack of extravagant gifts, despite the promise to skip Valentine’s—this moment, with him, is perfect.

Because at the end of the day, love isn’t about expensive gifts or grand gestures. It’s about Sunghoon saving you the last chocolate bar. It’s about you surprising him with a simple heart-shaped donut.

It’s about the way he holds you close, whispering, “I love you,” like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And as you rest your head against his shoulder, you realize—this is more than enough.

[imaluvsj7]

✿ ─── TOUCH OF EUPHORIA : 이희승

SYNOPSIS : where 𝒽𝑒𝑒seung is desperate man

PAIRING : 𝓁ee 𝒽𝑒𝑒seung x gn 𝓇eader ; GENRE : friends 𝓉𝑜 lovers, 𝒻luff, yearning & 𝒹esperation ; WC : 1338

───── 【 𝒾mas’ note 】 ❍ :: getting hang of writing again so sorry this is kinda rusty, I've tried making gn this time so really sorry if you find specific gender mentioned anywhere. please leave fbs & ENJOY READING!!

WARNINGS : english is not my first language, reader loves to banter, hee is a loser trapped in a hot body — desperate and yearning, hee calls reader angel, lots of fluffy & they kiss!!!! a little bit of rusty writing.

DISCLAIMER : This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

“Visiting my house early in the morning with your pajamas still on isn't how i expected you to show up heeseung especially the following day of your confession,” you stand near your door looking at him with adoration with a teasing tone hidden behind your grin.

Heeseung stood in front of your doorsteps with his typical pajamas a white loose tank top and grey trousers, bedhead messy locks with some tousled strands tucked in places — showing he has tried to fix his hair on the way, his bambi eyes showing daze and their usual sparkle. (click to read more)

Yet his unsettling feet and palms showed his feelings — a mix of joy, excitement, a depth of overwhelmingly and maybe slightly anxious gaze which he couldn't hide and somewhat feeling euphoric.

“I woke up and went to directly check my phone then I saw your response to my confession and I couldn't control myself but I promise I have brushed my teeth and washed my face,” he explains hastily trying to assure you he has cleaned himself enough to show up.

You try to suppress your laugh but he was too adorable to control, looking at you chuckling he blushed profusely as his ears turned crimson red and warm.

Soon calming down you speak — “so heeseung did you feel satisfied with my response.” “You said you will reply in person….. uh- so do you reciprocate my feelings?” he stutters out his question.

“Is this why you came rushing?” you ask with a playful tone subsiding your laugh. “Please angel, just answer my question. I need to know your response in person,” he said, carrying a whiny tone and emphasizing his plea.

“Okay gosh but first come inside you goofball.”

─────═━ •❃• ━═─────

You both walk into the living room and sit on the couch, “you want anything to drink cause it's early morning you haven't had breakfast or something.” “No please let's just talk,” he pleads desperately.

God you are weak for men who yearn pathetically, it drives you insane. You want to scream in a pillow at his adorable yet desperate state.

“Okay okay let's talk,” you gesture at him to continue speaking. “I couldn't keep my feelings hidden anymore angel, so Jay pushed me to confess and I didn't have the guts to do it infront of your face so I preferred to text instead.”

“To be honest I said that because confessing on text is a chicken move and I wasn't fond of it so I told you to confront me in person for my response.” “Yeah that I understood after Sunoo and Jungwon smacked my head when I told them before leaving, I'm really sorry that was very cowardly and lame of me.”

“It's okay bambi boy you're forgiven since you're so adorable but now I'm waiting for you to repeat the same thing you know.”

“Stop teasing me — he groans, maybe more like whining with his lips forming a pout — okay now just listen to me and don't speak please or I might get nervous, “you're nervous” – angel please let me complete.

I have had feelings for you for three years right after we became friends, I couldn't control them. Whenever you grab my arm I feel a jolt of electricity running through my body, when you come over to take care of me when I'm sick I feel captivated by your presence, when you laugh at my silly jokes I feel an intense wave of euphoria, I feel butterflies in my stomach when I go to bed after we hangout. I cannot stop myself blushing and smiling, at this point all my friends know and make fun of me. I don't care if I sound desperate or pathetic. I just want you to know how I feel so please tell me how you feel or I might go insane.”

“Gosh bambi boy you make me want to squish the life out of you. I have feelings for you too, you idiot, it was pretty clear to everyone except for you bimbo. Why do you think I always agreed to hangout and spend time with you and laugh at your silly jokes because I love you dummy.”

You expected him to jump or maybe laugh or just react with some sort of excitement but rather his eyes are glossy showing his vulnerability and his big grin speaks for his happiness.

“Say something now you idiot,” “I will start crying you-you love me- you said those words.” He stands up abruptly startling you as he grabs you in a tight hug pulling you up from the couch and his feet softly bouncing in excitement showing his eagerness.

“Okay you stupid let's sit…. oh god bambi boy,” you laugh at his excitement as he stumbles and you both crash on the couch. “Sorry oh god that was embarrassing I couldn't help oh this is real,” he giggles still joyful from the adrenaline rush.

He shifts, getting both of you comfortable laying down on the couch and you both stay quiet for a few minutes covered in a comforting silence.

“You know you haven't said those words yet,” “I haven't what – how can I be so stupid oh my god I love you angel, so much and it keeps growing everyday, every minute and every second.”

“You know you're definitely desperate and corny but lucky for me I like my man yearning for me.” He laughs at your sassy words while nuzzling his face in your hair and it follows with a soft warm touch of his lips making you go still and your body feeling euphoric.

He turns your head into his direction as he inches himself close to your face, his warm breath hitting your lips as he whispers “Can I?” — nodding your head you give him consent.

He soon leans forward, your bodies pressed together and your lips meeting his and you can feel the taste of shared breath along with his natural scent consuming your brain making it foggy.

Jolts of electricity pass in your system sending a tingling sensation across your cloudy brain and your palms turn clammy. The feeling of euphoria crawling in your heart making loud thuds. Your lips part slightly as he slips his tongue inside making you grasp his tank top in a tight fist.

Your usual confidential facade falling off as your face flushes warmth turning your ears crimson red. Eyes closed with your one hand travelling from his hair to his nape and his one hand locking your lips in place while the other holds your waist with fingers caressing your skin.

Your heart blooms with a rush of contentedness and a warmth you couldn't despair — the feeling so new yet so exciting making you feel gleeful. The lack of oxygen forcing you both to slowly part away, he leaves a last peck on your puckered lips.

Taking your time to stabilize your breathing you start feeling shy and exposed but the way Heeseung grins widely with adoration shining in his bambi eyes, his hands holding yours with his fingers caressing your knuckles assuring you.

Guessing your vulnerability he pulls you to him hugging you closes, pressing his torso against yours. Nuzzling his chin against your head he tilts his head a little to give your forehead a loving peck soon returning to its position.

After somewhat ten minutes of comforting silence he spoke up “Just so you know I'm your boyfriend now and you're my girlfriend but Jay told me girls feel loved and special when we ask them out on a nice date so give me one day.”

Receiving no response he pulls away a little to find you in a peaceful slumber, his loving gaze admiring your peaceful self — when you aren't teasing him or being cheeky.

Returning to his position he closes his eyes drifting away in his dreamland except this time it wasn't him admiring you from afar rather holding your hand while walking on a beach with your ring finger shining with a gold ring reflecting the sunlight.

© 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐕𝐒𝐉𝟕 2025 | DO NOT PLAGIARISE ON ANY PLATFORM

💌 ─── NOTE : editing my taglist so please tell me if you wanna be added in my perm taglist.

˙ . ꒷ 🍥 masterlist daily click . 𖦹˙—

[marsdql]

Game of Hearts [L.HS]

‧₊˚🏀彡ִ ࣪𖤐 Toxic!Heeseung x Toxic!Reader | g: Angst, Toxic Romance, High School Drama | cw: toxic relationship, making out, cheating | wc: 2.2k | @teddybeartaetae | bye im checking my unreleased works and i have things i forgot about in my notes app that r from nov when i first started posting....

High school was a game.

For you and Heeseung, it was your game, and everyone else? They were just pawns in the grand scheme of things.

You were the cheer captain—everyone’s favorite model-like bombshell, the girl who walked into every room with a smile so dazzling it could make any guy trip over his words. You had everything: the status, the popularity, and a boyfriend who was the absolute king of the school. Heeseung was the football captain, the one who could make even the teachers bend to his will with just a single look. The two of you were an unstoppable force.

Except… you both had your flaws. And those flaws were what made your relationship so exciting.

One day, after practice, you were sitting in the bleachers, flipping through your phone. Heeseung leaned against the post at the edge of the field, watching you, knowing you could feel his gaze burning into your back. You didn’t look up, though. It was a power play, and you both loved to play these games.

Heeseung smirked as he walked toward you, his footsteps slow and deliberate, making you feel every bit of his presence.

“You’re ignoring me now?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You looked up slowly, not even bothering to hide the smirk that tugged at your lips. “Maybe I am. What are you gonna do about it, captain?”

Heeseung didn’t hesitate. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you up and slamming you against the nearest locker. His eyes were dark, and you could see the simmering anger in them, but there was also that familiar, intoxicating passion.

“You don’t get to ignore me, princess,” he muttered, his lips dangerously close to yours. “You know the rules.”

You chuckled, defiance dancing in your eyes. “I do whatever I want.”

Heeseung laughed, the sound low and dangerous. “You think you can walk all over me? You really think I won’t put you in your place, Y/N?”

You grinned, pushing him away playfully, but the look in his eyes never faltered. “Try me.”

The game was on.

Weeks passed, and the tension between the two of you only grew. Heeseung and you fed off each other’s toxic energy, constantly pushing each other’s buttons, and you loved it. The more he tried to control you, the more you pulled away, only to reel him back in with your sweet, sickly smiles.

You knew he hated the attention other guys gave you, but you played it up, flirting with anyone who looked your way, just to see the flicker of jealousy in his eyes. It was a game, after all.

One night at a party, you were surrounded by a crowd of friends and other popular kids. Heeseung was deep in conversation with a few teammates across the room, but his eyes never left you. You caught his gaze once and grinned, raising your drink in a playful toast to him. The moment he saw the guy beside you lean in a little too close, his jaw clenched.

You loved it.

You let the other guy touch your waist just to push Heeseung further. The next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to flirt with everyone?” Heeseung growled, dragging you to a quieter corner.

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Don’t act like you own me.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening on your wrist. “I’m your boyfriend, Y/N. You should respect that.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing against his chest. “I don’t have to do anything for you.”

His grip tightened, and before you could even react, he slammed you against the wall. “You will listen to me.”

The air between you crackled with tension. Both of you were seconds away from snapping. This was the game you played—the constant back-and-forth of dominance and submission, who could push the other the hardest, who could break first.

Heeseung leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You don’t like me controlling you, but you crave it, don’t you?”

You smirked, feeling the heat rush to your face. “Maybe.”

The next day at school, you had a fight—again.

It started with Heeseung catching you talking to another guy in the hall after class, his glare icy as he watched from across the room. You knew he was watching, and part of you loved it, but another part of you hated that he could make you feel like you were being punished for simply existing.

“Why were you talking to him?” His voice was low, dangerous, as he cornered you near your locker.

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling that familiar thrill of defiance rush through you. “Maybe I wanted to. What’s it to you?”

Heeseung gritted his teeth, his hands curling into fists. “You belong to me. Not him.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Oh? I didn’t realize I was property now, Heeseung.”

His expression turned icy, and for a split second, you thought you might have gone too far. But then he stepped closer, his breath a whisper against your ear. “Don’t test me, Y/N. You wouldn’t like the consequences.”

You narrowed your eyes, defiance and desire swirling together in a heady mix. “Then do something about it.”

Heeseung chuckled, the sound dark and low. “I will. Just you wait.”

The toxic dynamic between you both didn’t just stay in public. At night, when you were alone in his car, things were always the same. You knew what buttons to push to make him lose control, and he knew how to make you feel like you were on the edge, craving something deeper, darker.

You were laying across the backseat, your legs draped over his lap, your fingers tracing the buttons on his shirt. “Why don’t you let me have some fun too?”

Heeseung’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. “You think you can play me, Y/N? You think I’m just gonna let you walk all over me?”

You smirked, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I know I can.”

His eyes flickered with the familiar dark intensity you were addicted to. “You’re pushing it.”

“Then push back,” you whispered, your lips hovering just a breath away from his.

Without warning, Heeseung crushed his lips to yours, the kiss intense and possessive. His hands tangled in your hair, his control slipping as you melted into him. But even in the heat of the moment, you knew this was just part of the game—this dangerous, toxic game that you both thrived in.

You pulled away, smirking. “You’re so easy to control.”

Heeseung chuckled darkly. “And you think I don’t know that?”

The two of you were a perfect storm, constantly clashing, constantly tearing at each other, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The toxicity, the manipulation, the jealousy—it was all a game. And in this game, you were both playing to win.

The next day, things escalated quickly. You were walking down the hallway, minding your business, when you saw Heeseung talking to some of the other girls. One of them was practically hanging off his arm, laughing like she was the most important person in the world.

Your stomach churned. You knew he was trying to get you back for the previous stunts you've been pulling on him for the past week.

You didn’t waste any time. Striding up to him, you shot him a smile that was all sweetness, but there was a sharpness to it. “Having fun?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Heeseung glanced at you, his smirk never leaving his lips. “Just enjoying the company.” He looked at the girl next to him again, his gaze lingering a little too long for your liking.

You raised an eyebrow, playing it cool. “That so?” Your tone was light, but there was a hint of something darker beneath it.

“Yeah,” he replied casually, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. Then, to really get under your skin, he added, “You should join us sometime.”

Your heart skipped, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing how much it was affecting you. Instead, you shot him a look, leaned in slightly, and said, “I’ll think about it.”

You turned away, feeling the burn of his eyes on your back as you walked off, a smirk tugging at your lips. You were playing his game now, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

Later that day, during practice, you noticed Heeseung wasn’t just making you jealous—he was making everyone else aware of it too. He kept chatting and laughing with her, throwing you looks to make sure you noticed.

You weren’t going to sit around and let him have all the fun.

You turned to one of the guys on your team, who always seemed to have his eye on you, and casually started a conversation, laughing a little too loud, making sure Heeseung would see.

Sure enough, when you glanced his way, his eyes were narrow, his jaw clenched. You could practically hear his thoughts—What the hell are you doing?

You smiled to yourself, enjoying the rush of power. Heeseung was the one who always got to control the situation, but now you were flipping the script.

After practice, your phone buzzed with a message from him. You had a feeling you knew what it was going to say, but you couldn’t resist checking it.

Heeseung: You think I don’t notice what you’re doing?

You rolled your eyes, already preparing your response.

You: You’re just mad because you can’t stand that someone else is getting my attention.

A few minutes passed before he replied.

Heeseung: You’re so toxic, Y/n. But I kind of like it.

You felt a twinge of excitement, even though his words stung. You were both so wrapped up in this game that neither of you was ready to stop.

You: Maybe I like making you mad.

Heeseung: Maybe you just like knowing you have control over me.

You smirked.

You: You can’t handle me, Heeseung.

His reply came quickly.

Heeseung: We’ll see about that.

The next day, you both were at it again. Heeseung was practically glued to that girl, giving her his full attention. You were standing with your friends, but your gaze kept shifting to him. He saw you looking and gave you a sly grin, making sure you knew that he knew exactly what he was doing.

You hated how much it worked.

But you couldn’t back down now.

You were about to walk over when you saw Heeseung’s hand resting on the girl’s back, his fingers just a little too close to her waist. You could feel the jealousy rising in your chest, but this time, you were ready. You turned around and walked straight up to Sunoo, that cute guy from class, and threw your arm around his shoulder with an exaggerated laugh.

Heeseung’s eyes instantly darted to you. His gaze was sharp, watching you closely. The smile on his lips faltered for just a second before he tried to hide it with another chuckle.

You loved it.

You didn’t even wait for a reaction; you just let him stew in it. Let him feel how it felt when he pushed your buttons.

Later that night, your phone buzzed with a text.

Heeseung: Stop playing games, Y/N.

You smirked.

You: I’m not the one trying to make someone jealous.

Heeseung: You think I’m doing this to get a rise out of you? You think I care?

You: You wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t care.

Heeseung: Yeah, well, maybe I do care. But not the way you think.

You: Whatever you say, Heeseung. Just don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying it.

Heeseung: You enjoy it too, don’t lie.

The next day, the game continued. But this time, you were both a little more aware of what you were doing. Heeseung was still talking to the girl, still trying to push your buttons, but now, you just laughed.

You weren’t playing the same toxic game anymore—you were both in it together.

You found him after practice, and without a word, he pulled you aside, his hands on your waist, his eyes challenging. “You know we’re both fucked up, right?”

bye i didnt know how to end this im sorry...

[bang-chan-my-man]