#love them through military service
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Jimin's eyes..... You know..... that thing when a person's eyes don't quite match the smile....
There is a sadness in him. I felt it as soon as I saw the OT7 photo this morning, and couldn't shake it. At first I thought it was my own stuff bubbling up, as I miss him.... but it isn't. I've looked at the photo several times today, to check myself and to feel the energy and listen to what I'm being shown.
The military experience is hard for him. Just as it is for Jungkook. They both hinted at it, in their letters to ARMYs... They are stationed and working in a different environment from the others. We all know that.
Sure, Jimin looks really good outwardly. He's physically strong, holds himself with confidence, and on the outside it looks like all is well... And, that hug that he gave Jin and Tae.... gosh, that was the most heartfelt hug that I have seen him give, perhaps ever. It was an embrace. A full-on Heart-based embrace... 🤧
Even though I have written about how I believe that this time in the military is good for them (taking them out of the public eye), I also have to say that I am keenly aware of the hardships that come with the experience, too. I honestly think that it is the most difficult for Jimin and Jungkook. This is purely due to the particular military base that they are asigned to, and the level of risk and the type of training that they have received there. It is training for the front lines. It isn't office work, or such.... They didn't take the easy route, when they enlisted as companions, for sure.
I'll be eternally grateful that they are together for this experience. I think it would be 1000 times more difficult, if Jungkook and Jimin were separated. Thank god they are together....
Both of them are carrying the weight of the military differently than the other members. If you can see energy or if you are an empath, you can "see" it and/or sense it. Heavy it is, indeed. It's almost like a greyish bubble that they are encased in, if you are a visual type of person. Greyish and heavy. And, it is completely out of resonance with their own higher frequencies, which makes it hard to navigate with, 24/7. Jimin, especially.
My hope is that they come through the experience without too much that they have to later process and heal. Yeah. We have to remember that in the military, they are taught how to shoot to kill. They are taught how to think in ways that go against everything that they Innately Are, as Human Beings. It goes against everything they are, as the beautiful people they are. (In my opinion.)
If you have a loved one who is military service or is a veteran, then you know. If you have had those deeper conversations about their experiences (that they could speak of), then you know.
As a believer that Love Heals, I do believe that the Love that we send them every day helps them, somehow. The more conscious we are about doing it, the better. It can help them. I feel that they need all the love that we can possibly send them, if I am honest here. It is something that we as ARMYs can collectively do, to be helpful in the best way.
So if you feel like these words resonate and you feel inclined to make a conscious effort to send each of them love, please do. It will help, for sure. Even if it is simply a minute or so of each day that you think of them and send them love, or think of them being surrounded by Love, or even "intend" that everything that touches them is pure Love.... You get the idea.
Yeah. It is a little something, but it is also a BIG something that we can do.
If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you can help, thank you! It will make a difference. 💜
#park jimin#jiminie#jeon jungkook#jungkookie#bts#bangtan#bts military service#send them love#love heals#love them through military service
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thinking about how xaden’s signet has to do with shadows and liam is called violet’s shadow… yeah that hurts
#in both a ‘these are kid brothers forced into military servitude and xaden has to control liam’s every move to keep them both alive and isnt#the military industrial complex super fucked up with how it toys with human lives’ wat#*way#and also the#‘maybe xaden isn’t that good of a person and he’s not above criticism for how he bosses liam around and liam says yes to everything because#he thinks he owes this permanent life debt to xaden’ way#which like. yes he DOES but also#their relationship has been so militarized by their upbringing as military kids -> cadets @ basgiath and so they only way they each know how#to show love is service. which is why liam sees it as friendship & love to tail violet for xaden and why xaden shows love through acts of#service (making the saddles & teaching violet & making her custom daggers etc etc)#fourth wing#liam mairi#xaden riorson#liam and xaden#rebecca yarros#fourth wing meta#violet sorrengail#liz.txt
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#on this random monday evening I'm feeling salty how growing up in my family any touches were strongly discouraged#and although I was and am loved by my family members#hugs were only for special occasions like bday or xmas and that's it. very short and impersonal#I grew up understanding that no one would want to touch me unless required by social norms#we would eat at the same table as a family also only twice per year for xmas and easters#even birthdays were “here's your slice of cake take it and go play”#affection was through service and food and care but hugs are so nice why would anyone hate hugs from a child ;-;#I don't think I ever heard and actual “I love you” from my parents either#and I tried to say ilys myself instead but it so visibly makes them uncomfy it's not even funny#too bad I'll never have my own kids to break this dumb tradition#but anyway guys tell your loved ones they're loved#it's better to say it more often than not at all#(also even my cat doesn't like to cuddle 🥲 what sort of military family is this eh)
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Steve is most likely to end up in a lavender marriage and Tony's most likely to end up in a “married for tax/immigration/inheritance fraud” reasons.
They meet as married men and pine for each other hardcore and are also trying not to read too much into how their interest seems reciprocated and oh nooooo both Immigration/the IRS and the the Church/in-laws/DADT era army dudes or whatever are snooping around at the same time at each of their marriages and they have to be so good at being married at the people they are married to oh noooooo and they other guy doesn’t know why they are suddenly being iced out and maybe they were just imagining things? maybe it’s for the best with all these eyes around on them…
#not to get too real but i love queer people. we see each other and we save each other#i wish i could talk in depth about this lgbtq history panel i went to tonight without doxxing myself#but basically all of these panelists were older gay ppl & one of them won a very monumental court case in the state#and right after introductions one of the other panelists turned to her and thanked her so profusely for the sacrifices she had made#and the work she did to win that case#and that by achieving that win for herself she paved the way for this other panelist to have her own family recognized legally by the state#i don't know i'm not explaining it well but something about knowing and seeing that gratitude in real time. understanding so viscerally tha#so much of our history has happened within one or two lifetimes. to the point that many of the champions of our current rights are alive#today for us to learn from and listen to and THANK#i met two nb ppl through school last year and have since become very close to them#they are the only two ppl on this planet who use my pronouns the way i want them to be used. they switch it up every time and i love them#a little bit more each time i hear them talk about me. it's magical#my childhood best friend told me he liked boys and girls like a month after we first met each other in the fourth grade#he told me there's a word for that; he's bisexual#i think abt how incredible that was a lot. how brave he was to say that and to own that and how long it might have taken me to figure#out that i was the same had he not said it.#anyway all this to say that yes absolutely i love this#steve and tony meet at a military gala. steve's being recognized for his service and tony and his wife were invited by some higher-up who#imagined he could use the event as a way to cozy up to him and earn some good favor before negotiations start on SI's contract renewal#their eyes meet while steve's up on stage. he hates these things. hates being dragged into the spotlight. he feels naked and bare and#vulnerable every time. trapped in enemy territory with no cover. but he sucks it up he kisses his wife on the cheek and she smiles#big and beautiful; perfect like they've run their lines 1000 times over. like they could recite each other's parts by heart#he makes his way to the podium. breathes deep to center himself before he launches into his thankless thank-yous. steve's a terrible liar#but somehow he's made it this far in his career. he can manage for one more night. except#right as he lifts his eyes to speak he sees him. bright eyes burning into his from a shadowed table in the corner. the brass speaking at hi#on his left and a lovely woman who's bored and unimpressed on his right. and him looking directly back at steve#steve's breath catches and he chokes on air. trips on his lines. forgets himself and loses the beat of the scene#he looks down at his notes and ignores them. raises his face to the light and plays himself to be seen by an audience of one.#anon#signed sealed delivered
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sometimes you realize you have retained too much trivia about the media you love and you realize this because someone makes a joke post about wolverine going through airport security and laughingly speculating about how that goes
and you can only JUST barely stop yourself from informing them that actually in uncanny x-men (1963 run) #158 this very topic was covered, because wolverine is expected to pass through a metal detector as part of an infiltration mission where the x-men are undercover, and is able to produce his medic card from service with the canadian military/special services to attest that a "good chunk" of his skeleton is metal prosthetics from war wounds, and that this same excuse would more than likely be used for modern airports
and you stop this because you know! they are just making a joke! it's a joke! but you KNOW
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yappologist degree holder ༊*·˚
𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 about you.
feat. dan heng, aventurine, luocha, jing yuan, gepard, jiaoqiu, argenti and moze (gn!reader)
cw. ooc (very); jiaoqiu talks a lot; [slight] sexual innuendos
note. TRYING SOMETHING NEW GRAHHHHHH i dont think i captured their personalities correctly but 🙏🙏 WE BALL LAMSDOASDI i hope you guys enjoy it >:DD reader is identified as [name] and uses they/them prns (GANG I TRIED MY BEST LAMSDOAMSD) if you see me use fem prns in this piece please tell me <3 lmk if you'd like a pt. 2 w other chars (WOMEN ASHDUASHDUH)
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ DAN HENG
about [name] [name]? what about them?
chat: significant other [name] is my significant other. aside from the express, they’re one of the only ones keeping me grounded whenever i become… “emo”. their words, not mine.
chat: sleep sleep is something i found hard to come by; everytime i closed my eyes, visions of my past appeared. but now that [name] is by my side, it has become easier to fall to a peaceful rest.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ AVENTURINE
about [name] through a game of life or death is how [name] and i met. hm? unconventional you say? well, it’s one of the reasons why i fell for them.
chat: bet betting has become an integral part of [name] and i’s life. while it’s not a common way of expressing your love for someone, it’s how we do things. whether those bets entail having to have the other run errands or even give your own life up, it sends spikes of adrenaline up our bones resulting in a very fun game of cat and mouse.
chat: loss there are seldom games i lose — and most of the time, i still somehow come out as, partially, a winner. but for some reason, whenever i offer a game of chance against [name], i seem to lose every game we have. i can’t lie, i get somewhat annoyed at how i can’t seem to win a game against them. but then again, life would be dull if it were just an unending series of wins.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ LUOCHA
about [name] [name] is a travelling merchant i’ve come to know over the past years of my journeys as one myself. if i didn't have anyone to rely on before, i've got my dearest to thank now.
chat: bargain as a merchant, it is important for me to know how to bargain, especially when deals presented to me are severely unfair for me. i must admit, i wasn’t very good at striking fair deals when i was starting off my path as a travelling merchant. but over the years, [name] has taught me a lot about this art. by observing their ways of negotiating, i am now able to attain very fair and valuable trades.
chat: aromatherapy with [name]’s upbringing as an herb specialist, i get to experience their family’s aromatherapy service. with every scent i am presented with, i am able to clear my mind and slip in the embrace of solitude and calm.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ JING YUAN
about [name] [name] is someone who can ease my troubled mind with an embrace; the calm in my storm, the light of my life, and the heart of my soul.
chat: birds when little birds flock to my head, my spouse wonders if im this character called… snow white… *sigh* i am not sure as to who that is due to my upbringing as a military leader — i had no time for these trivial tales. but whenever they tell tales about this... gizney? no.. bizney? not quite right either.. ah yes, disney princess, the intent of me being dressed with robes of royalty are reflected in their eyes.
chat: mimi what was once a kitten, has now grown into a ferocious little lion. i remember when i first got her, [name] was all over the poor thing — smothering it with their love and words of praise — mimi didn’t complain though, she let herself get spoiled. and even up until now, she’s still that same, little spoiled lion she is.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ GEPARD
about [name] [name] is my significant other – how i was able to catch their eye? i don’t know. sometimes, i doubt my ability to love, especially with my role as the captain of the silvermane guards. but whenever those thoughts appear in my mind, [name] is there to quell my uneasy mind.
chat: family the way [name] treats lynx makes me feel… funny. i can’t really describe it but my heart beats whenever they entertain my little sister. oh, and don’t even get me started with how serval treats them. *sigh* what should i do to ease this beating heart of mine?
chat: de-stress ways on how to de-stress? well, after a long day i am usually greeted with the embrace of my beloved once i step into our abode… then after that i’m littered with- o-oh.. apologies. i was supposed to give advice. let’s start over again, shall we?
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ JIAOQIU
about [name] [name]? you want to now about them? well you see, as general feixiao’s doctor, it is important for me to have assistants whenever patients visit the clinic in a time when i am tending to duties involving her – this is where my dear [name] comes in. they’ve been with me from the start; us being classmates in the medicinal school we attended and all that. they’re easily one of the very dearest people in my life. most people only know them as my assistant due to their preference of upholding a “low-profile”; of course, i am very much alright with it. but when time comes and they’re ready to reveal our bond to the world, i’ll be the happiest man in the whole entire cosmos.
chat: sweets oh? you liked the sweets i gave you? well, you have my dear [name] to thank. they’re quite the connoisseur when it comes to making them. speaking of sweets, i forgot to mention we have a pastry shop in aurum alley. if you’re able to drop by, i’ll consider giving you a bundle of sweets, and probably other pastries, free of charge.
chat: coriander whatever you do, please do not hand me a bunch of coriander. i will absolutely lose my mind having to deal with a coriander-obsessed lover.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ARGENTI
about [name] my love for [name] transcends even the distant stars of the cosmos. my heart, my soul, and my own being belong to them.
chat: roses roses are my beloved’s favourite flowers, as they are mine. every morning, i wake from my peaceful slumber to see my dear tending to the beds of flowers with a gentle smile on their face that makes me fall in love all over again. *sigh* i miss them so much, trailblazer.. please bring me back to my ship. i would like to sink into my lover’s embrace at this moment.
chat: baking my beloved takes time to make my preference for thick baguettes each and every morning. while it warms me to receive such a valuable gift, i am not sure if i am deserving of their unconditional love for i am just a mere knight of beauty, idiotically searching for the goddess i’ve devoted myself to.
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ MOZE
about [name] i am [name]’s lover. i am bound to them by fate and affection which is why you shouldn’t come close to them — unless you’d like to request an audience with the weapon in my hand.
chat: shadow [name] gets frightened whenever i appear randomly — jiaoqiu tells me it’s a normal reaction as he too, gets startled whenever i show my face to him. although.. im not quite sure how my sudden appearance has them stunned...
chat: cleaning [name] and i share the same hobby of cleaning. whenever i am relieved of my duties assigned by the general, i watch them- no. they tell me of the rather… unconventional ways of cleaning our abode.
tagging: @ayrastv, @whatisnerotypical, @lia-loves
🐈⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!
if you'd like to be part of my taglist, please access the gform below! thank you and hope to see you <3
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#🐈⬛️.notepad#🌸.honkai star rail#honkai star rail#hsr#star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reaer#star rail x reader#dan heng#dan heng x reader#jiaoqiu#jiaoqiu x reader#gepard#gepard landau#gepard x reader#jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#moze#hsr moze#moze x reader#hsr moze x reader#argenti#argenti x reader#aventurine#aventurine x reader#luocha#luocha x reader
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“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.
And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.
Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.
Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.
I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.
Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.
He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,
‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.
I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.
Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.
And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.
I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.
Okay, I love you. Bye.’
A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.
His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.
Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.
Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.
On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.
Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.
The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.
And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.
I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.
And then the pattern continues.
Thank you.
Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.
One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.
She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.
On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.
‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.
Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.
But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.
What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’
She was killed later that day.
Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.
And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.
Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.
It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.
Thank you.
The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.
I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.
I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.
It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.
He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.
A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.
The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.
I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.
But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.
A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.
Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.”
—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.
#politics#dana ballout#the 95#palestine#israel#war crimes#gaza#committee to protect journalists#🇵🇸#brahim lafi#shereen abou aql#issam abdullah#ayat hadduro#rushdie sarraj#hassouna saleem#sadi mansour
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THE LAST SAFE PLACE
pairing: idol!beomgyu x fem!soldier reader click here for moodboard
Summary: The world didn’t end with a bang. It ended with a whisper, a deadly virus creeping through the streets, turning the living into something… monstrous.
It was supposed to be a mission. Get in. Get out. Rescue the five a-list boys holed up deep in the city of Seoul. But nothing in this new, broken world is simple anymore.
The dead don’t scare you as much as his starry eyes do—deep brown eyes that make you question if you’re the one who needs saving, after all.
warnings!: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. apocalypse!, survival!, blood!, character!deaths, zombies!, descriptions of!killing, gore!, attempted!sa, menace!reader, anxiety!attacks, signs of!pstd, cursing!, side oc characters, reader has her own last name, pov being switched from reader to beomgyu, mini timeskips, drunk-in-love beomgyu, emotional-baggage, let me know if I missed any! (not proofread, first fic.) smut!warnings: fingering!, oral!fem receiving, missionary, unprotected, slightbody!worship.
wordcount: 30k
notes: Whenever I saw writers call their fic their "baby," I used to wonder what that really felt like. Now here I am, sharing my first-ever fic—my baby—with all of you. It’s far from perfect; I know that. But isn’t that the beauty of writing? I believe we all have room to grow, and so do I.
This fic is inspired by two things I hold dear; Beomgyu (and TXT as a whole) and the idea of finding love in the middle of an apocalypse. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed creating it.
taglist: I just want to say I love you. thank you for giving this story a chance. @beomiracles @agustdiv1ne @binluvsu @saejinniestar @haowonbins @vampzity @usuallyunlikelyfox @gyu-tori @xodidarks @tubasmiracle @hyunelixbun @woncheecks @lovingbeomgyudayone @beomsdoll @baekberrie @parkweylyn @lun4mizuka @lilbrorufr @no1likemybbgcharlie
Saying the military "protects the nation" always felt like a hollow statement to you—something neat and rehearsed, meant for recruitment ads or patriotic speeches, you came to understand it all too well after years of service. Life is fragile, easily dismissed with a single command, and the concept of disobedience isn’t even an option.
You follow orders, make decisions, and carry out tasks already mapped out for you and your team. The oath you swore binds you to honour whatever higher-ups deem necessary for the greater good, no matter the cost. It matters not, even if it costs your life. That’s how it is.
You've lived like that for as long as you can remember, and sometimes you wonder if it’s that very belief—an unwavering fool—that drove you to become the soldier you are. You know by now that it will also be the very reason for your end someday.
The sound of banging at the door jerks you awake. Your eyes strain in the pitch-black darkness of the barracks. You think you might’ve slept, but it doesn’t feel like it—not really. More like you were just drifting in and out of consciousness, never quite at rest.
"Park. Roll Call." You blinked, scrunching your face. The pounding on the door didn't let up, insistent as ever, making it clear there was no chance of them stopping.
"I'm up." You shouted. The cool floor met your bare feet, and you groggily reached for your shoes tucked neatly underneath. Your eyes flicked briefly to the small bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table. It sat there like an accusation, a stark reminder of the restless hours you spent last night. The tossing, the turning, the damp sheets sticking to your skin as you wrestled with the silence that refused to grant you peace.
You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. The pills—felt like the only option. You stared at the bottle, before grabbing it and slipping it into your bag.
Opening the door, you found yourself face to face with a smirking Do-hyun. "Good morning," he said, tone laced with sarcasm. "Except it’s 2:30 a.m. and we’ve got urgent business. Captain’s called us. Did not say anything about it."
"Must be top secret," you muttered, wincing as the harsh overhead light hit your face. You tried to tame your hair, pulling it into a sloppy ponytail. "C'mon."
You fell into step beside Do-Hyun, the sound of your boots hitting the floor echoing down the empty hallways of the garrison. Your shoulders brushed as you walked, the quiet around you almost unsettling. It was way too early—or maybe too late—for anyone to be this awake.
Seeing a few other soldiers from different units, you saw the same thing: them stumbling into their shoes, eyes half-closed, still caught somewhere between sleep and whatever had pulled them out of bed.
Your boots thudded against the floor with each step. Everyone knows the drill—soon enough, you'd find out what the mission was. Probably something you weren’t supposed to ask too many questions about. Face set in a hard, businesslike expression, you could feel another one coming. Another duty. Another unknown.
"This must be a big one," you muttered, scanning the growing crowd of fighters being herded into place. It was rare to see… this many called out at once. "How many teams are they assembling?"
"I don’t know," Do-Hyun replied with a tired sigh, clearly irritated. "I should be asleep, dreaming about anything other than this, but here we are." Early-morning chaos is the only thing that can get under his skin.
You followed him as he turned left down another corridor. People started staring as you passed—from other squads, lingering on the two of you. They knew. They knew who you were.
Black berets. Special Commands Unit. Infamous. You didn’t need to say it aloud; everyone already knows. The reputation of efficiency, precision, and something else—something darker. Your team never, ever failed. Your team didn’t just complete missions. You annihilated them.
That reputation followed you everywhere. You could still feel the weight of their gazes—some filled with admiration, others with something harder to read, maybe even a little fear. It wasn’t new. You’d felt it for years, people looked at you like you were a hero or a big, bad warning.
You were used to it by now.
When you finally enter into the room where your team usually gathers, the moment your eyes land on the team commander, you and Do-yun both instinctively, snap to attention, "Captain Joon. Park Y/N and Jung Do-yun, reporting."
"At ease. Sit down," Captain Joon responds, tone as calm as ever, looking at you directly as if assessing your state. You lower your salute, glancing around at the rest of your teammates already seated. Looks like you’re the last to arrive.
You make your way to an empty seat, crossing your legs as you also folded your arms, leaning back for comfort. You catch the faintest glance from another one of your teammates, Eun-woo, who raises an eyebrow at you but says nothing.
Captain Joon stands at the front, pacing back and forth, usual self missing. He opens his mouth, then stops, words not coming. He closes it again, staring ahead. It’s strange to see him hesitate like this—it’s not like him at all.
"Alright," he starts, avoiding anyone for eye contact. "We’ve got a new mission. It’s… a lot different than what we usually have." You uncross your arms and lean forward without thinking, drawn on the word "different." There’s something about it—his tone, his hesitation, maybe—that makes your stomach clench.
He continues, "This one’s high-risk. We don’t know exactly what we’re walking to. We’ve got intel, but it’s shaky at best; All I know is there’s a virus spreading. Not like Corona. No, it’s not like that. This one… it turns people into something, not human. They become—" He stops, words hanging in the air. "—they kill.. They attack. And they spread it to others. It’s not confirmed yet, but it will be. Soon."
He doesn’t wait for any further response. "We move out in an hour or two. We will be assigned to a specific mission in the middle of this. Get your gear ready. Dismissed." Six pairs of eyes follow him as he exits, leaving a heavy silence in the room. It's cold. It almost feels unreal—like something out of a movie.
You’d been to other countries, thrown into the thick of it—dealing with terrorists, and a hundred other ways to die. After all the things you’d seen, all the wars you’d fought, the idea of a virus outbreak was not the kind of fight you were used to.
"So, a virus? Like zombies?" Seo-jun’s voice breaks the stillness. He stands up, eyes wide with disbelief.
"It's medically impossible." Beom-seok replied, shaking his head, "Or at least… it should be." he added, almost to himself.
"If it's a virus—then what? How are we, supposed to stop that? A plan on how? Is there going to be a… vaccine? Some cure?"
You stand up, movement so subtle yet enough to make the others still, their attention turning to you. "We’ll figure it out," you say, voice firm. You lean back against the table, crossing your arms, "We always do. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it."
Do-hyun shoots you a look, then nods, his expression unreadable. "Right," he says. "We’ll deal with it."
The words hang in the air, and the newly shut door swings open with a loud noise, making everyone turn. A figure stands in the doorway, breathless. "Did you guys see the news?"
"Did you see the news?"
Yeonjun’s hands were trembling as he shoved his phone into Taehyun’s hands, practically forcing him to look. On the screen was a livestream—a news broadcast, but not the usual kind.
Taehyun blinked, his half-asleep face confused as his eyes adjusted to the screen. He stared, his breath catching when he realized what he was watching. He’d never been a fan of gore or horror, and this felt like both—worse, even. The video was chaos: people running, screaming, blood everywhere. Limbs tangled and barely escaping the streets. The sounds of panic—raw, animalistic—clawed at his nerves. He shivered, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. "Is this… a new movie or something?"
Yeonjun swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the phone as he snatched it back, his fingers quickly tapping away at the screen. "No," he said, voice low, "It’s from.. SBS."
"A drama from SBS?" Taehyun asked, still trying to make sense of what he had just seen.
"No," Yeonjun shook his head quickly. "News live stream. It's been trending. Saw it a couple of minutes ago." Panic flared across his face as he started typing furiously, sending messages to his mom. Where are you? Are you safe? Please reply. His heart pounded with every second of silence that followed.
As the phone screen glowed with his continuous text, the sound of a door creaking open interrupted. Soobin stepped out of the bathroom, checking the two of them that seemed frozen in place. "What happened?" he asked, voice laced with concern.
The question was left unanswered when Yeonjun’s phone suddenly rang. A small spark of relief flaring up in his chest—only for it to fade just as quickly.
It wasn’t from his mom. It's their manager, "Hello?"
Taehyun got up to get his own phone, his movements stiff. Soobin stayed by Yeonjun’s side, eyes flicking between the phone in Yeonjun's hand and his face—filled with anxious expression.
"He’ll speak to you. He wants to," Yeonjun said, meeting Soobin's gaze. His voice was uncertain. Yeonjun did not want to miss out on anything, but the manager had already requested for their leader. Soobin nodded, catching the worry in the latter's eyes. He offered a soft tone, "You can put it on speaker."
"Okay, listen up. I don’t know what’s really happening, but it’s dangerous, very dangerous out there. It’s… people eating people. Do not let anyone leave the house. All five of you. You've just had your groceries dropped, right?"
"Yeah, but what’s—" Yeonjun’s voice cracked, but the manager cut him off.
"Again, I don’t know much. None of us do. We heard the president’s about to announce martial law over this. The military’s locking down the city. You can’t go anywhere. All you need to do is stay inside. Help will come. When they get there, they’ll say my name. You’ll know it’s them." Hands trembled slightly as he held the phone, fighting the urge to hang up and try calling his mom again. Soobin saw it, his own anxiety spiking so he stepped closer, placing a steady hand on Yeonjun’s shoulder then taking the phone from his shaky grip.
"How long do we have to stay here?" Soobin whispered. "What about our families? They’re out there too."
"I don’t know," came the reply, the voice on the other end. "This started in Seoul, based on the news. The military’s setting up safe zones in every city around you. They’ll be protected. But no one can get in or out until things settle. Just… stay inside. I’ll keep you updated when I can-" The line went dead. They stared at the phone, signal bar disappearing completely.
"What are we going to do now?" They heard Kai mutter. He’d stepped out of his room after hearing the commotion. "Hiyyih is out here in Seoul too."
"I don’t have a signal now either," Soobin said, glancing at his own phone, face tightening as soon as he saw missed calls from his dad, his mom, and his sister, brother. He has missed their calls. With a frustrated sigh, he grabbed the TV remote and switched it on, only to be met with a busy signal. The screen flickered, in bold letters, the message appeared:
STAY INDOORS. ANY SIGNS OF WOUNDS, FEVER, OR VIOLENT BEHAVIOR—ISOLATE IMMEDIATELY.
He started flipping through the channels, to see something different. But each station showed the same warning. Taehyun returned, his face heavy with worry. "I got through to my mom, but she was crying too much to say anything. Just told me to stay safe."
Yeonjun was silent. He didn't know what to do, unsure if this was some elaborate prank. Looking around the room, suddenly realised something. "And where the hell is Beomgyu?"
"Sleeping."
A scream pierced the air outside the dorm room, making all of them jump in shock. Kai was the first to react, quickly moving toward the door and peering through the peephole. For a brief moment, there was nothing—just eerie silence. Then, a thump echoed, followed by continuous pounding on the steel door.
"Help!" The voice outside cried, voice hoarse. Shuffling was heard.
"Kai, get here!" Soobin hissed, Kai moved back, frozen in place, gaze still fixed on the door. Slowly, he crossed the room, his footsteps making no sound, cautious as he approached the youngest. He then grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, away from the door. "Stay away from the door,"
Four men stood paralyzed, eyes wide and locked on the door, afraid that it might open, every muscle tense. The door vibrated with each pound from the other side, and the sound of another scream sent a chill down their spines.
Waiting in terrified silence, hoping whatever was outside would stop.
Yeah. They definitely shouldn’t go outside.
It had been seventy-two hours since the government declared the state of emergency.
Seventy-two hours, since the virus outbreak hit the public, and almost everything began to spiral out of control. Your team had been pushed from one task to the next—helping transport, fortifying armoury barricades, trying to keep the city standing. You feel like you couldn't even have time to blink.
Nothing seemed to stand a chance against the speed of the virus.
The radio crackled to life, its voice cutting through the tense silence. "It’s reported that some cases have been found outside of Seoul too."
You swallowed, the water in your canteen suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth. Your rifle was strapped to your back—knives tucked into your pockets pulled at your clothes, a grim necessity. Your backpack packed with supplies, pulled at your shoulders.
The blood on the streets made your face contort. It wasn’t just the sight of it—it was the knowledge that innocent people, civilians, were the ones who’d ended up here. It was their blood staining the ground, their lives cut short. In just seventy-two hours, this outbreak had become a full-blown mad nightmare. It was real, right here—heavy, like the world had already started to fall apart around you.
"How long?" you asked, trying to shake the unease gnawing at your stomach.
"The report came in an hour ago," came the response. An hour. Sixty minutes. That’s all it took for the virus to spread. An hour, it was no longer just the city.
"There’s still some armory left in this area," Captain Joon says, brushing off the latest intel your team just received. "We need to clear this out, then head back to camp for the next mission."
You slip the water bottle back into the side pocket of your backpack and tilt your head back, stretching out any stiffness. It's been almost twenty-four hours since you last slept.
"Ju-won will come with us."
"The newbie?" Ji-ho raises an eyebrow.
But the thing is, he’s not really a newbie. The military doesn’t just let anyone into the special command unit—you have to be overqualified to even get a chance. People are reacting this way because it’s been years since anyone new has joined. They’re not used to it. The whole thing feels a little odd.
The boy walks forward. You glance at him, and it’s clear right away. The way his body stiffens when he sees seven seasoned soldiers in front of him—he can’t be more than twenty. But, something about the way he carries himself catches your attention. His eyes don’t drop, not even for a second. There’s no sign of hesitation or backing down, even as the rest of you appraise him, silently evaluating his physical presence. It’s almost as if he expects to be here, like he belongs.
He's got guts.
"Captain," he saluted, "Min Ju-won. Sent from Unit Two to provide additional assistance. Engineering."
Captain Joon gave a quick nod, his eyes briefly shifting to you. "Stick with Y/N." Ju-won lowered his salute and jogged over to where you stood.
"We leave in 10 minutes,"
Seo-jun let out a low whistle, looking over Ju-won with a grin. "Well, look what we got here. A kid at the end of the world. What a nice day it is." The sarcasm in his voice hung in the air as he effortlessly adjusted his M4.
"Ignore him. He's a twat," you muttered, clicking your tongue and feigning an attempt to kick Seo-jun's leg for his comment.
Ju-won, just smiled and waved it off, his eyes still locked on you with an almost admiration. "It's alright," he said quickly. "Y/N… then I must be looking at the black beret's most skilled team engineer and sharp-shooter."
"Damn right, she is," Do-Hyun chimed in, grinning as he playfully ruffled your hair. You slapped his hand away, the motion half-hearted but familiar.
The wind howled as the cargo truck went down the rugged road, the engine's hum barely audible over the gusts. Beom-Seok was at the wheel, while Captain Joon sat in the passenger seat, checking the horizon. The other six of you were crammed in the back, weapons ready.
You could feel that someone was watching you. You turned your head to the right, and sure enough, there he was—Ju-won, looking at you with an expression that was oddly calm for a day like this. You chewed absently on the sweet gum in your mouth.
"I’ve always heard your name, even when I was still training," he said almost embarrassed, but there was a hint of respect in his words, "A lot of us admire your skills. We even know your schedule—like when you will drop off at the headquarters."
"Yeah?" You raised an eyebrow, curious but not particularly moved. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
Ju-won grinned, unfazed. "And, of course, your temper is well-known too."
You snorted at that. Of course, it was. You'd made more than one higher-up nearly pass out with your snark and disregard.
Most of them acted like you were supposed to kiss their feet, even though they barely had the skills to back it up—just a good last name and a father in a high place. Lucky bastards. They got used to it—eventually.
Ju-won seemed to pause, thinking for a moment. "I want to be like you."
It caught you off, staring at him, no response from your lips. Who would want to be as miserable? Who in the right mind would? No one should have to carry this kind of burden, no one but you.
"You don’t know anything," you said, right after seconds of silence. "Trust me, you don’t."
Ju-won didn’t seem discouraged by your bluntness. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, "Then maybe I can ask questions to get to know you better?"
"No." You're unsure of where he was going with this.
"Just one then? And if I do well on this mission, I can ask for another one after?" He pumped his fist after your silence, the small gesture that made you want to roll your eyes again.
"How old were you when you joined the military?" His voice was gentle, but his curiosity was clear.
It wasn’t a question people often asked, at least not in the way he asked it. Most were interested in your skills, the missions you’d completed, or the stories you could tell. No one, ever cared much about who you were before all that.
"About seventeen, officially," you replied, the words feeling strange in your mouth. Had it really been that long?
"Woah," Ju-won exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. "And how long have you been in service?"
You glanced out at the passing landscape, your thoughts briefly drifting to the years that had passed. "Seven years. Counting."
"You're so cool." His gaze flicked to you a few more times, but he didn’t press further.
The only sound in the pitch-black courtyard was the soft shuffle of footsteps against gravel, your team moved cautiously toward the overrun military outpost. It had been more than twenty-four hours since anyone radioed in, and in your line of work, that could only mean one thing.
Defeat. Death. They’re dead.
You gripped the AR-15 in your hands, its weight and feel as familiar as your own skin. Your eyes stayed locked ahead, scanning the shadows, the captain just a few steps in front of you. You could feel Ju-won’s breath on your back.
"Hold." The captain's voice barely rose above a whisper, but you caught it—sharp and commanding. His hand went up in a familiar gesture, signaling. Eun-woo and Ji-ho moved, splitting off to cover the blind spots—each one wary of possible exits or hidden threats.
The minutes stretched on, almost suffocating. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, when faintly, a soft whistle.
A go signal. Finally.
The captain’s eyes flicked to you. Without words, he surged forward, and you followed, close, moving deeper into where the map was marked.
With Eun-woo and Ji-ho still posted at the entrance of the courtyard, and Beom-seok at the Cargo Truck to secure on the road, the remaining five of you moved carefully toward the building’s entrance.
Seo-jun reached for the rail handle and pulled it. It was a split-second decision, but he made the mistake of opening it too wide, too fast. The sound was deafening in the silence—a loud scrape of metal against metal. It was the darkness. Or maybe it was the way no one had heard anything.
The infected—so many of them—started to emerge from the inside, their eyes hungry, limbs jerking unnaturally as they snarled and gnawed at the space where you stood.
"Shut it off!" was yelled, but it was too late. Seo-jun tried desperately to pull the door, but the dead were already pushing their way through, toppling the door with brutal force. No stopping them now.
The growls, their gurgling moans, flooded. You took a step back, when you noticed the next wave of infected closing in from both sides—right and left. The courtyard was becoming a death trap.
“Guns!” Captain Joon barked, voice sharp and urgent. He raised his rifle, opening fire on the approaching dead, and you followed. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. You aimed at the nearest infected, firing with the precision you’d drilled into your muscle memory. Beside you, you felt Ju-won moving, his shots echoing through the chaos.
You kicked one of the infected coming too close toward you—hard. The sickening crack of its skull as it spun from the impact of your boots almost drowned out the growls, relief was fleeting—another wave was already pushing through.
"Move!" you shouted to Ju-won, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him to the right side, where it seemed there was a slight gap in the swarm. You followed, not letting up on your fire. Each shot to the head was methodical, each kill necessary for survival.
You kept repeating it in your head—headshots. Headshots, or they don’t die.
Through the haze of gunfire and screams, you spotted Do-hyun on the opposite side, surrounded but still fighting, his rifle a blur as he tried to hold the line.
"Captain!" you shouted, your voice rising over, as you saw the widening gap between your team. You continued firing, shots ringing out, each one a desperate attempt to keep the tide of the dead at bay. You grabbed the arm of an infected that crept up from behind, pulling it sidewards with all your strength. The thing flailed, but you kicked its legs out from under it, slamming its head down with a close shot. Blood splattering on your track pants.
Another bullet whizzed past you, too close, and you turned to meet Ju-won’s eyes. There was no time for words. He’d just taken down one of the infected that had come up behind you.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. The gunfire echoed in your ears, drowning out everything else. Then, you heard it—Seo-jun’s voice cutting through the noise.
"Captain. Orders!"
It was a soldier’s instinct, that need for direction even in the face of death. It was what you were trained to do, what you had to do.
"Fall back." His command came. The words you’d been waiting for. You began to step back, scanning the darkened courtyard. And then, just as you thought it couldn’t get worse, you saw it—a wave of infected flooding out from the building. Your eyes locked on one of them, a child, no more than twelve, wearing a middle school uniform.
No. No time to mourn, no time to think. You shake it off, turn your attention back to Ju-won, who was already falling back as well.
You ran, but it was a futile attempt. The middle part of the courtyard, the one that had been empty moments ago, was now swarming with infected.
“Go forward!” Captain Joon’s shouted again.
The sound of gunfire, the screams, the snarls—they were all blending together now. You saw Eun-woo and Ji-ho still at the entrance of the courtyard, firing relentlessly. But there were too many. It had to be the sound of all the gunfire—had to be why they were flooding in from the other buildings now.
You couldn’t run without firing. The infected were, too close for comfort.
“Ahhh!”
Ju-won’s scream tore through the noise, and you whipped your head to the side. You saw him—surrounded by four, maybe five infected. Their gnarled hands reaching for him.
You sprinted forward, the gun dropped in an instant. You reached the closest infected, grabbing its hair and yanking its head back with force. The knife you’d pulled was a flash of silver in the darkness, and you slashed it across its throat, the blade biting into the flesh with a wet sound.
You couldn’t fire. Not with Ju-won so close to them.
You felt Do-hyun and Seo-jun near you now, forming a small circle, keeping the infected at bay while you worked to free Ju-won. One by one, you killed the infected around him within seconds. But when the last one finally dropped, you froze for the first time tonight.
There's a wound. The bite. A deep, angry stash on Ju-won’s neck, blood spilling down his chest, soaking through and colouring his shirt. Your heart stopped.
"Y/N…" His voice was weak. Too weak.
"Come on," you said, trying to drag him to his feet. The others were silent, at the sight.
"Help me!" you shouted, the panic finally breaking through as the infected kept coming. "What the fuck are you staring at? Help me!"
Do-hyun snapped out of his thoughts and rushed to help. He moved to slide his arm under the left side, but before he could get a firm grip, Ju-won's hand shot out, pushing him away.
"Leave me."
"No. Come on."
“Just leave me, Y/N.” he whispered again, "I know I can't be helped."
“I’m not having this conversation—”
“It hurts!” Ju-won suddenly shouted, pain in his voice. His lips were turning blue, face pale, eyes glassy with tears. “It hurts so much. I—I want this to just end. End it. Please. I'm begging you.”
Your breath caught in your throat. He started crying, Min Ju-won.
“Y/N?” Do-hyun’s voice broke through, gunshots ringing, “Decide now.” Seo-jun’s voice was distant, more gunfire ringing out, words clear. He was asking you to make a choice.
"Shh, It’s going to be okay," you murmured, wiping his tears away, "Everything’s going to be okay." You pushed the sweat-damp strands of hair from his forehead, fingers brushing against his cold skin. “You’ll be alright.”
Min Ju-won.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” You leaned in close, feeling his weak attempt to smile on your neck, breath coming out in ragged gasps when he felt you pressed your knife to the back of his head. “It’s okay, Ju-won.”
Making sure to do it quickly, you didn’t want him to suffer—not even for a second. He stilled, and then there was a quiet exhale against your skin. His last breath.
Arms went limp in your embrace.
Min Ju-won.
You stare at your hands, blood too much, not yours, too obvious to wipe away. The vehicle lurches forward, but nothing about this mission feels like it’s worth it. No weapons recovered. And one less soldier with you.
You ignore the stares of your teammates, the silent questions they’re too scared to ask. Even when your captain demands what happened, you can’t find the words.
Death isn’t new to you.
You’ve seen it, lived with it, had to pull the trigger more times than you care to admit. Had to deal with it more times than you'd care to count. But this… this is different. There’s a heaviness in your throat that won’t lift—can still feel him, still hear his laboured breath as you hold him in your arms.
The dog tags in your hand are cold against your palm. They’re not yours. There were too many of them. The infected.
No one could even bring his body back.
"We're here," Eun-woo says, the vehicle finally pulls to a stop at your temporary camp. He'd been staring out the window for the entire ride, lost in thought, barely noticing the road or time. You don’t wait for anyone to open get out. You push yourself out, body stiff and eyes burning, but you do your best not to let anyone see. You try to blink away the moisture, to keep it together. You can’t. You won’t.
“Y/N, I—” Seo-jun starts, his voice hesitant, reaching for you.
"Save it." you snap, harshly, not letting him finish his sentence. He falters at your glare, watching turn and walk straight for the barracks, not even sparing a second glance in his direction.
Your body, with blood, not yours, and the dog tag around your hands swaying with every step.
"Give her space. She did it herself. Again." Do-hyun’s voice is softer, almost reluctant, as he watches you retreat. His eyes follow you, lost in thought.
Maybe it’s because you’re a woman and they’re all men, or maybe because you’ve always been the youngest, they've known you since you were much younger. Or maybe it’s the fact that they’ve never seen you crack, never once seen you break down when they all have at one point or another. After all these years, when they themselves had crumbled, you always seemed to keep it together. You always did. First... they admired how strong you were—physically, emotionally, mentally—and even envied it at times but as time went on, they started to realise something.
The empty look in your eyes—it's haunting. They all knew what you did for them, what you'd sacrificed.
Ji-ho pats Seo-jun’s shoulder, his face mixed with understanding and exhaustion. He points his head toward the door, a silent suggestion to let you have your space.
You stepped inside the massive military tent, the hum of conversations halting as everyone’s gaze turned toward you. You noticed someone even take a hesitant step back, eyes widening.
"I'm not fucking bitten," You didn't pause to explain further. You couldn’t. Instead, you kept walking, ignoring the stares, the whispers that you could practically feel on your skin. You didn't care, walking past the soldiers, the stares heavy on your back. You made your way to your assigned makeshift door, pulling it open and stepping inside.
The small room felt like the only place you could breathe. The bathroom was the next thing you could think of.
Once inside, you slumped onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Your face landed near the toilet, and before you brace yourself, your stomach churned. The contents from your day—what little you had managed to eat—came up violently. It kept going, feeling your body betray you as your throat burned, as your muscles contracted in spasms. The bile, bitter taste, nausea kept pushing until your stomach was empty and you felt nothing but raw, aching emptiness.
You dry your mouth with the back of your filthy hand, smell of blood still lingering in your nostrils. The memory of it—of what you'd seen, what you just did—threatened to send you over the edge again. You fought the urge to gag.
You knew it wasn’t something Seo-jun should be explaining for. He called you earlier, sounding like he wanted to apologize, wanted to make sure you were okay. But you didn’t want to tell him everything was fine. Because it wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what was waiting for you inside that damned place. He didn’t know the hundreds of the dead you'd have to face. He tried his best too, just like you did. But none of that mattered.
Killing is easy. You had convinced yourself that—it was something you could do without blinking now. Maybe you could even kill with the same ease as walking a dog in the park, that it could become second nature.
You killed someone who had just started to make you wonder—what question they would be asking you after the mission. Something small, something so... human. With your own hands. No real reason. No justification. For the sake of getting equipment. You killed him.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
With effort, you flushed the toilet, then let your body slide back to the nearest wall. Once it was done, you let yourself slump back against the nearest wall, Your fingers digging into your face as if you could erase the last few hours just by pressing hard enough. Sweat, cold and clammy, trickled down your forehead.
"Y/N," came a voice from outside the door.
Captain Joon. You didn't respond. You didn’t even move. "Rest," he said, his voice softer than usual, "You're needed for another mission after a couple of hours. Rest, fix yourself, and take a bath."
"Did you just take a bath?" Taehyun asked, seeing Beomgyu’s damp hair, towel draped around his neck, few droplets of water still clinging to his skin.
Beomgyu nodded, not even looking up from the crackers he was munching on.
"Again?"
"You got a problem with that?" Beomgyu’s house slipper flew through the air toward Taehyun’s. It was effortlesly dodged.
"Why are you taking a bath three times a day?"
Beomgyu shrugged, gaze finally lifting to meet Taehyun's. "There's nothing else to do,"
Taehyun paused, small ache in his chest upon the words. Being an idol, he knew well the activities—packed schedules, comebacks, fan events, concerts. It never stopped. Hell, he could not even remember the last time he’d celebrated his birthday with his family.
Beomgyu exhaled sharply, "It's been four days… You think our families are okay out there?"
Every day now was a reminder—waking up to the reality of the virus outbreak, everything at a stop.
"They should be," Taehyun replied, though he didn’t feel as sure as he sounded. "We're the ones stuck here."
Beomgyu didn’t answer, instead shuffling his trash away. Just then, Kai appeared from the bathroom, face slack with disappointment.
"Guys, the water’s stopped."
Yeonjun jumped from his seat, rushing to check the sinks, only to find no water coming out. "Shit."
Beomgyu bit his lip, frustration bubbling inside him. Just when things couldn’t seem to get worse. The isolation, the fear—it was all becoming too much now. It's growing every day. He stood up, ignoring Soobin’s frantic voice as he tried to save whatever little water they had left.
He shut himself in his room, the door clicking softly behind him. His eyes wandered to the small house model his family had made for him—a little reminder of home, something he would look at whenever he needed to feel close to them. He collapsed onto his unmade bed, staring blankly at the white ceiling, his thoughts made up mix of thoughts and scenarios. Maybe there was a miracle out there—something, anything, to change this.
Minutes passed in silence before Beomgyu’s voice broke the stillness. "I hope there’s an angel out there. Someone who’ll come get us… get me. Out here, to a safe place." His heart thudded painfully in his chest—he knew no one would ever hear those words, but he couldn’t help but hope.
You slowly make your way toward the apartment complex, the team had decided to move under the cover of darkness again—it drew fewer infected and lowered the chances of running into trouble. At least that’s what your team hoped for.
The freshly laundered combat uniform felt like it was made for you. The black fabric, almost matte, clung to your body, moving with you as if it were a second skin. Your boots, worn but sturdy, held you grounded. Each step was sure. They gave you that solid grip. On your hips, the twin knives sat, steel blades catching the light with a faint, almost imperceptible gleam. Your hair was pulled back, tight in a high knot. Not a strand is out of place.
The mission was clear: rescue the five A-list boys trapped in this building, ever since the outbreak began.
Hybe, was the one who went to the military for help. They couldn’t exactly say no to them—so here you are, walking into a situation you can’t quite predict.
Six of you, without Beom-seok to secure the vehicle on the road as usual—all armed and ready, step closer to the entrance of the block—though you spot a few infected lingering around, they’re silently dealt with. A knife to the head, no noise, no struggle—just clean and quick.
Your captain’s biggest worry is the location. The middle of the city. So many people in such a small space can only mean one thing—too many infected. It’s a risk, but it’s the job. That is exactly why these people are stuck here in the first place. No help has been able to get through until your team was sent in.
"It's here," Eun-woo says, pointing toward the stairs in the corner. He folds the marked map and tucks it away. Captain Joon nods, "One by one. Be aware of your surroundings."
Everyone gives a tight nod, moving quickly to follow his instructions. You scanned every corner, every shadow. You don’t miss a thing. There are a few infected nearby, but they have not noticed you. So long as they don’t see or hear, and you’re far enough, you’ll be fine.
Earlier, it was also clear that most of the infected in this area are concentrated in the outer courtyard. It looks like the people who lived here panicked, tried to escape out there, drawing all the infected away from the apartment complex itself. It’s eerily quiet now, almost too quiet.
You reach the door to apartment 304, and the rest of your team spreads out, covering all sides of the hallway. You catch your breath, scanning both directions again, alert to any movement. Someone begins to knock on the door. Minutes tick by, but there’s no answer.
"Are they fucking asleep?" Ji-ho whispers, his voice sharp with impatience.
"What do you expect?" you snap,"You think they’re awake at this hour, just waiting for us to show up?" The words feel bitter, but you don’t care. "Move,"
Before you can even make a move toward the door, a voice breaks the silence. It's soft, hesitant, almost as if the person speaking is scared to even let the words out.
"Who’re you?"
Kai had been just about to head to the bathroom for a quick piss when he heard it—an soft rattle against the door.
It’s been days, days, since there was any sound from the other side. Complete silence. So hearing something now, especially in the dead of night, made his blood run cold.
Someone’s trying to break in?
He freezes, mind racing. Slowly, he walks towards the door, arms out in front of him, keeping a little distance like it might somehow help. His breath is shallow as he inches closer to the small peephole in the door, just enough to get a glimpse.
Soobin made him promise not to go near the door, but he won’t know. He’s asleep, anyway.
There are people out there. No, not just people—soldiers? At least three men and a woman, he's not really sure, but they're standing and staring straight at their door. He can’t make out their words, sound too muffled, but he can tell they’re muttering something under their breath, heads tilted as if they’re listening too.
Woah. She’s… really pretty.
Kai immediately shakes his head. Focus. Now is not the time to be thinking about how pretty she is. She’s out there, trying to break the door down. Or… is she?
What if they’re the ones sent to rescue us?
He squints through the crack in the door again, taking in the soldiers’ uniforms. They’re military. That has to mean something—and waking the others would take too long. He swallows hard, asking the question.
"Who’re you?"
"Open the door," Captain Joon says, his voice firm and immediate. "We've come to help you." There’s no reply from the other side.
"Manager Jisoo. Hybe."
There’s a sound of the lock turning, and the door creaks open just a crack. It’s dim inside. The air inside hits you. Smells faintly of candles—probably because there’s no electricity to rely on anymore. One by one, everyone got ready to move inside. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the person who had opened it.
He looked young—his skin pale and features sharp, with a foreign look. His bangs messily hung over his eyes, longer than he probably intended. Your eyes met his, and just as quickly, he looked away. Great. You all must have really scared him—heavily armed, arriving at his dorm in the dead of night.
"We're all coming in, Son," Captain Joon said, gaze flicking to the boy’s face, silently asking for permission—though he did not really need it. You were here to rescue them, to bring everyone back. Whether they were ready or not, you were going in. "What's your name?"
He nodded and opened the door wider. "Heuningkai. Kai is fine."
"How many of you are still in here?"
"Five. Uh, I’ll need to wake everyone up first."
"Go on." You took in the space they had been holed up in. Everything screamed lived in. Floors wooden tiles. It was clean, considering men were living in this place. Some sweaters were carelessly tossed over the couch, an Uno card sat beside it, random orange peels and a few glass mugs were scattered across the table. But aside from that, everything seemed… orderly. Something about this space made you feel out of place.
"Could you please wait here?" Kai stopped after taking a few steps away from your team. The front door shut behind. You glanced at him as he spoke, and you saw it—his face.
It was almost like he was afraid that if he turned around, everyone would just... leave.
He didn’t give anyone a chance to respond. Without another word, he turned and headed for the nearest door. You took in the hallway—six doors in total. One of them was probably the bathroom, and the rest, you guessed, must be their rooms.
Kai walks in, still feeling the embarrassment creeping up his neck. He did not mean to pout or sound so desperate in front of everyone—it just kind of happened.
The whole outbreak had him on edge all the time. It wasn’t like him at all. But now, for the first time in a while, he's starting to see hope. And with that came a fear he hadn’t expected.
He shuts the door behind him, eyes flick to Soobin, who’s sprawled out on the bed in his usual weird sleeping position. One arm thrown over his face, legs tangled in the sheets like he’s trying to escape them.
If anything, it’s comforting to see Soobin still so… Soobin.
"Wake up," Kai says, giving Soobin’s arm a little shake. There’s no response. "Soobin,"
He just mumbles something unintelligible and stays still. With a sigh, Kai slaps the flesh of Soobin's thigh—a trick he’s learned always works when he's in deep sleep.
"Shi—Kai?" The latter groans, blinking his eyes open. He winces slightly, almost about to curse, but then he notices the younger one standing there, looking a little shaken, and his protective instinct kicks in. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"They’re here. They—the help. They’re outside. I let them in." The older man shot up, his mind struggling to shake off the remnants of sleep. For days, he'd been waiting for this moment, but now that it was here, he could hardly believe it.
Soobin looked at Kai’s face, searching for any sign of bluffness. None.
"Wake everyone up, Kai. I’ll, I'll talk to them. Good job," he said, his voice thick with a mix of urgency and something else—nervousness, maybe. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to steady his racing heart.
The younger gave a quick nod, already rising to carry out the task.
Soobin hesitated for a moment, then followed, his feet heavier than usual. When he stepped out of his room, the sight hit him. Soldiers.
All dressed in black, standing almost stiffly in the cramped living room, as if they did not know where to place themselves, presence filling every corner. They looked out of place—one man was sitting, looking collected. He was much older—maybe in his late 40s—and when he saw Soobin, he stood up too, moving with authority.
"Hello," Soobin said, bowing deeply. He wished his voice to be normal, but it cracked. His eyes stung, and he blinked, trying to hold back the tears likely to spill. These people—they look so capable.
How desperately he’d needed them.
"I know it's late, but we need to move now. It’ll make things easier for us," Captain Joon started.
Everyone had gathered in the living room now—eleven people, all listening. A large map was spread out on the table in front of them, marked with lines and notes. "We’ve got a cargo truck on standby, and someone guarding it. Waiting for us,"
You leaned against the wall at the back, trying to stay out of the way. Your long gun resting to your right side. You crossed your arms, observing them all, taking in the scene. These five—when they first arrived, you’d seen it clearly: that fleeting, unguarded emotion that flashed across their faces. Relief? Fear?
Your thoughts drifted for a moment, the hum of voices fading, when suddenly you caught something. One of them was looking at you. You met his gaze, and for a second, neither of you moved. His eyes were a soft brown, almost warm, framed by dark hair that was swept back but still fell messily across his forehead. His jaw was sharp, yet there was something almost delicate about it. Something… soft.
You raised an eyebrow at him, just a slight challenge, and he blinked, startled. He bowed his head in your direction awkwardly—before you could return it, his eyes darted away quickly. Followed by a deep shade of red that crept into the tips of his ears.
He didn’t look back at you again—as though he couldn’t look at you a second longer.
Little did you know, when you weren’t paying attention, his eyes would steal a few more glances in your direction, each one shorter, but no less curious.
"We'll travel this way, and you all will be dropped off here at this camp, as requested. Understand?"
"And, we can just bring a backpack each?" Soobin asks, looking around the group. He’d introduced himself as the leader earlier.
"That doesn't mean you can just throw anything in there," you replied, finally speaking up, giving your first words tonight. "Keep it light. Only pack what you really need." Captain Joon gave a slight nod, acknowledging your point.
"Got it,"
"While we're at it," Captain Joon continued, “since we’ll be traveling together, it’s probably best you get to know the people you’ll be with. Just in case something goes wrong.” The mention of anything happening seemed to linger in the air. The five of them had never seen an infected before. You all know that can cause problems.
"As you probably already know, I'm the Captain of this team," Joon said, he shot a quick glance at you before going on.
"Park Y/N," he nodded in your direction, "our engineer sergeant. She’s the one who builds stuff, blows stuff up—whatever needs doing, really. She's my second-in-command."
Beomgyu has a valid reason to look at you now. And when he thought he never be more mesmerized, somehow, he was.
Earlier, when he first stumbled out of bed and woken by Kai, he wandered into the living room, still half-dazed. He was caught off guard on how… beautiful you were. He’d seen soldiers, sure, but you? You were different. You looked like you belonged on a magazine cover—not out here, in the middle of a hellscape.
How are you, not a celebrity? he wonders, half-wanting to slap himself. How are you so beautiful, standing here, in the middle of this nightmare? The strangest thing, though, was the pull in his chest—even though he’d only just learned your name. Even your name—sounds pretty.
"Do-hyun," Joon said, pointing to a man near you, "he's in charge of our comms—makes sure we stay connected. Keeps the radios running, that sort of thing." Do-hyun gave a lazy salute, a smirk playing on his lips.
"That’s Eun-woo and Ji-ho," Joon went on, pointing to two others standing with confidence. "They’re our weapons experts—know every damn thing about fixing, maintaining, and using all our weapons. They also take inventory, make sure we’re stocked up when we need to move out."
"And then there's Seo-jun," Joon said, nodding toward a tall, figure standing slightly apart from the rest like you. "Does the planning, the strategizing. And last but not least, Beom-seok. He’s the one left behind—our medic.”
"You can pack now. We'll wait here. We’ve got food rations on the truck, so you can eat there." Captain Joon finally ends the conversation.
The five of them stand up and start making their way to their rooms.
Beomgyu exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. The air feels lighter as he steps into his room. They're finally getting out here.
He stands in front of his closet for a few seconds, unsure of what to grab first. He picks up his backpack and starts shuffling through his things—some clothes, and his hygiene kit that Taehyun had already packed for him. He opens his drawer and realizes he’ll need to change out of his pajamas. A plain shirt, some cargo pants, his jacket… and where the hell are his boots? Before he can finish, he hears the door creak open.
"Beomgyu," Yeonjun’s says. "That chick’s really cute."
Beomgyu freezes, his hand mid-reach for his shoes. He blinks and turns to face Yeonjun. "Have you packed your stuff, or do you think we’ve got all the time in the world?"
Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, looking slightly taken aback. "Geez, chill. Why are you being so mad?"
Beomgyu hesitates. He doesn’t really know. It could be the way Yeonjun had interrupted his packing, or maybe… maybe it’s because Yeonjun’s casually saying something like that. Beomgyu feels something twist in his stomach.
Yeonjun thinks you’re pretty. He doesn’t know how to deal with that.
"'M sorry,"
Yeonjun watches him closely. "Was it because of what I said—"
"No."
A knock sounds on the door. Both of them turn toward it. Eun-woo peeks his head inside, his expression casual. "We're just waiting for the two of you, and then we're off."
"Let's go,"
The only sound is the steady rhythm of feet against the ground. Your team is spread out, moving in a loose pattern. Captain Joon, Seo-jun, and Ji-ho take the lead, scanning the surroundings. Soobin and Kai walk close behind, hand in hand. Taehyun and Beomgyu follow next, then Yeonjun.
You, along with Do-hyun and Eun-woo, bring up the rear. It’s all going smoothly. You’re alert, watching the others, everything seems calm—until you notice Yeonjun. He’s suddenly still, his body frozen in place. You glance over and follow his line of sight.
In the open space ahead, a small group of infected wander aimlessly. Movements are jerky, unnatural, and the growls that escape their throats are low and guttural. One of them is lying on the ground, its torso half severed, intestine out, but its arms are still twitching, dragging itself forward in a grotesque imitation of life.
Yeonjun’s breathing stops entirely, his chest barely rising and falling. He’s staring at them, wide-eyed, body tense. You step up and place a hand on his shoulder. The touch makes him flinch.
"Shhh," you whisper, barely audible. The last thing you need right now is anyone making noise. One sound, one slip-up, and the infected will be on you. "Move. Eyes front—Don't… do not look at them."
He does not respond at first, you’re not even sure if he’s even hearing you. His eyes check the infected again, then back to the ground. He swallows. Finally, he nods, voice tight, "Yeah."
You give him a push on the back, enough to get him moving. It was a relief to see Yeonjun walking. You exhaled slowly, locking eyes with Do-hyun. He'd seen it all. That look between you two was enough to say it all: they weren’t ready for this. They hadn’t been told nearly enough.
Everyone kept walking, the building’s echoing silence wrapping around you as you neared the first level. It wasn’t far now—just out the main door, across the block, and then Beom-seok would be waiting for you on the road. The end was in sight.
"Shit!" Soobin’s voice is loud, his hands pressed against his chest in surprise. He hadn’t expected it. A woman, infected, eyes wide open, slumped lifelessly in a chair in the lobby. Her body was barely recognizable, rotting, the decay setting in.
No one moved. You spun around, doubt kicking in, scanning the lobby for any movement. Kai gripped Soobin’s hand tighter, his fingers digging in just enough. Soobin looked at him—a silent apology, a promise to do better.
It was only a minute, before Captain Joon finally moved. You stepped out of the building, the fresh air hitting you in a way that almost felt too good. The five newcomers, still adjusting to the chaos, kept their gazes fixed ahead, careful not to glance at the herd gathering in the open space nearby.
Then you saw him—Beom-seok. Leaning against the tires on the road, his eyes sweeping the distance, waiting. "Took you long enough," Beom-seok mutters, his eyes looking at you as he watches you approach.
One by one, everyone began climbing into the truck. Ji-ho caught your eye, giving you a quick signal to get in.
"Yeah? Are you bored or something?" Seo-jun shoots back, his tone teasing.
You gripped Ji-ho's hand, pulling yourself up the tall cargo bed. You paused, glancing down at Taehyun and offering your hand. He grasped it firmly, and with one smooth pull, you helped him up. He meets your gaze and gives a nod, a thank you.
Beomgyu was next, and Ji-ho was beside you, helping Yeonjun up. Kai and Soobin were already settled inside chatting quietly, and the truck was starting to feel a little more like a secure place.
You let your hand fall, but it only took a second for Beomgyu to extend his own.
Soft. Warm. It feels different somehow.
Beomgyu feels your hand—still shielded by your tactical gloves, but with the fingertips exposed. Even through the fabric, he can feel the warmth of your skin. It’s subtle, and for some reason, it’s enough to make his heart beat a little faster. You gripped his hand, pulling him up with the same ease as you did with Taehyun.
He’s finally out—the one they’d been stuck in, waiting, starving. Water was running low, food was practically gone and no electricity. It’s been days. Time blurred together in there. He’d tried his hardest not to let his emotions spill over, even when his mind kept replaying all the times he’d imagined getting out. All the moments he’d prayed for this. And now, it’s real.
He's here.
"Thank you," Beomgyu whispers, he hopes that somehow, those two words are enough for you to know.
"Sure,"
Beomgyu smiles wider as the fresh scent of grass hits his face. It’s a smell he never thought he’d miss, now it feels like a luxury—something he never realized how much he took for granted until now.
He turns his head to look at you, he feels his heart settle. Your head slightly leaned back against the rail, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. He fights the urge to nudge the soldier sitting next to you and tell him to move so you can rest your head somewhere more comfortable. He notices a shift in your face. Your brows furrow—a small frown begins to start on your forehead. Beomgyu's smile fade. The sight of you looking troubled, unsettles him for some reason.
Then, with no warning, the vehicle comes to a sudden halt, throwing everyone forward. It awakes you, and your eyes snap open, hands reaching for your gun.
"What now?" Eun-woo asks, stepping toward the window that connects to the driver's area, his voice tight with concern. You follow his gaze and your stomach drops. A fire. A huge fire, raging up ahead. And it looks like it's right where your team was supposed to drop off.
Yeonjun holds his nose at the smell of burning, smoke.
"Didn’t you radio them, Do-hyun?"
"I did, before we started heading back, Captain," You start mentally counting the minutes—five people eating, the time it took to pack up, and the drive back. It couldn’t have been more than two hours.
Two hours, and the fire’s already this big. "What happens now?" You hear Kai ask himself.
You don't have to look for long to spot them. Infected. They’re coming toward your truck—more than you can count. A mass of tumbling bodies, moving fast.
"Captain!" you shout, your voice sharp. "They are coming. Too many of them." Your words startle everyone in the truck.
Beom-seok’s hands twitch on the steering wheel, nerves on edge as he maneuvers the truck. His mind races, unsure of the next move. Where the hell should we go?
"Head for the nearest camp," Captain Joon orders, "Do-hyun, can you get through to them?"
"I'm trying," Do-hyun responds, fingers moving over the radio—silence greets him in return. The truck moves, and all of you watch the infected, filling the road behind.
Beomgyu watches the infected, slow, stumbling figures moving toward the vehicle. He knows they wont catch up—he knows they cant outrun it—still, his stomach churns.
"Are you okay?" Soobin asks, voice soft. He saw Beomgyu’s face when he locked eyes with the dead. "Try not to look at them," he suggests. It’s what Soobin does—keep his eyes away.
Beomgyu gives a shrug. "Isn’t avoiding them just going to make it worse?" he says, eyes still glued to the decaying figures. "I mean, I would like to be able to look at them without feeling like I’m about to throw up."
Soobin sighs, "We are getting out of here. Hybe did not let these people get us just to leave us hanging. There’s gotta be a place somewhere. Maybe we’ll even be able to go home, see our families again."
Beomgyu’s throat tightens at the mention of family, he swallows the feeling down. "What if we don’t, though?" he murmurs, "You saw the fire at the camp we were supposed to be at. Do you really think we’d have made it out? If we got there earlier…. do your really think we would have survived?"
Soobin’s heart clench at the question, he can't bring himself to answer. He does not want to think about it, but he knows Beomgyu’s right. Everything had seemed okay—until that overrun camp. The silence stretches, loud with unspoken fears.
Beomgyu’s hand starts picking at his nails, his gaze unfocused. "What if there’s no safe place left?" His voice cracks,trying his hardest not to think about his family.
"Stop." It’s you. You had been close enough to hear their whispers. "I’ll let you know if there’s no place anymore. Until I do, don’t think about it."
Beomgyu looks up at you, meeting your eyes for a moment. And just like that, the heaviness inside him lifts—just a little.
The vehicle comes to a halt by the side of the road, dust kicking up as the engine sputters off. Captain Joon looks ahead, eyes narrowing at the said camp he has in mind. It’s about a ten-minute walk from here.
"Still no response, Captain," Do-hyun reports, his fingers pressing anxiously on the radio. "Should I try reaching out to other units? They're farther out, but I can give it a shot."
Captain Joon does not look at him, eyes fixed ahead. "You can do that later. For now, we need to check this site first." He pauses, "It’s not wise for all of us to go. These five civilians stay here with a couple of you, the rest of us will move out."
Beomgyu catches the glint of your fingers as you reach for your gun, checking the magazine, clicking it back and then tightening your boot laces. There's no need for more words. The message is clear. You're going out, you're checking the place. You’re not going to sit around and wait.
"Y/N," Captain Joon calls out as you start climbing down from the cargo bed.
“I’m going with you,” you say, already strapping your gun across your shoulder. Without waiting for a response, you take a few long strides,, scanning the fields around you. The tall grass sways gently in the breeze. A few of the soldiers start following suit—Eun-woo, Ji-ho, and you catch the sound of their boots as they move behind you.
Captain Joon strides past, and you follow him, your boots crunching against the dry earth.
Beomgyu watches, his eyes never leaving your form as you move further into the distance. He can hear Yeonjun’s sigh beside him, but it did not make him look away. Instead, he counts under his breath, doing everything he can to keep you in sight until you’re too far to see.
The truck was quiet, the minutes stretching on as the remaining soldiers outside paced back and forth, keeping watch.
“I’m worried about Hiyyih,” Kai said suddenly, breaking the silence. His words drew the attention of the older guys around him, all seated close by.
“Do you think she got rescued too?” Kai asked, voice quieter now. “Or maybe…she made it out to Seoul when everything went like this?”
Taehyun reached over, giving the youngest's head a soft pat. “She is okay, Kai,” he said, “Once we get to the camp, we can ask the Captain,”
“Yeah,”
“Stop stressing about it, though,” Yeonjun chimed in, “We will figure it out soon enough.” Soobin stayed quiet, gaze fixed on some distant thought.
“They’re back,” Beomgyu said, his gaze darting between the road and the distant figures coming into view. He kept watching, squinting to make out their shapes as they got closer. Minutes passed, and the faces became clear: Captain Joon, two other soldiers… and you.
“They’re fewer than we expected,” Captain Joon announced as he reached the group, his voice steady but grim. “The camp’s still standing. We’ll spend the night there and wait for further instructions.” His words weighed heavy in the air. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay composed.
When you entered the place, the sight was sobering. Just over half a dozen soldiers were left. The others, you were told, had been sent out on missions—and none of their teams had returned. You shook the thoughts away, chalking it up to exhaustion. Fatigue was setting in, and all you wanted was a shower and some sleep. For now, this camp would have to do.
Adjusting the straps of your backpack, you glanced around and saw everyone gathering their belongings. You opened your gun case and checked the magazines, counting each one carefully. “We’ll need to do inventory soon,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.
Beomgyu caught your words and looked over, his eyes flicking from your face to the black case cradling the weapons.
Arriving at the camp on foot felt like walking into a ghost town. The only sign of life was… the small group of soldiers waiting, their tired eyes, makes the place feel even emptier. Captain Joon started barking orders, assigning tents to everyone. Your mind was fixed on one thing: rest.
“I’m going to shower and sleep. Wake me if I’m needed,” you told the captain, walking past him as he gave you a quick nod.
You headed to your tent, overhearing the arrangements for the five civilians. They’d be taking turns in the showers, then each also having a small tent of their own. Your own shelter was small, just as you’d expected. You set your things down, pulling out what you needed for the shower.
The shower area was sectioned off with a heavy curtain, its edges swaying slightly in the breeze. You pushed it aside and stepped in, letting the cool water wash over you. The sensation of the water running down your back. After finishing your routine, you reached for a towel and your robe. Once you’d changed into a clean military shirt and loose pants, you stepped outside, your hair still damp.
The camp was quiet, save for the crackle of a small fire in the center. A few soldiers sat around it—Yeonjun was eating, with Beomgyu and Taehyun seated beside him. Soobin, walking toward them, caught your gaze and gave you a respectful bow. Kai was likely in the showers, taking his turn.
Back at your tent, you dried your hair—hitting the makeshift pillow, your eyes drifted shut. It was harder to sleep that night.
Beomgyu jolted awake to the sharp crack of a gunshot. His chest tightened as he gasped, sitting up abruptly in the darkness.
BANG.
Another shot echoed through the camp, louder this time. He instinctively covered his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound was close—too close. A flurry of gunfire followed, chaotic and all over the place. He froze as a shadow darted past the thin walls of his tent. His hands trembled as he forced himself to stand.
He fumbled for his pants, pulling them on as another scream tore through the night, quickly silenced by another gunshot. His mind raced. Should he go outside? Should he stay hidden?
Soobin. Yeonjun. Taehyun. Kai.
You.
The names rang in his head snapped him. He peeked through a small gap in the tent’s fabric, his breath hitching at the sight outside. Strangers—men he hadn’t seen earlier—moved through the camp. One of them hefted a sack of supplies over his shoulder, while others fired wildly at the soldiers.
Bandits?
The realization hit hard. These men were fighting the soldiers stationed at the camp, gunfire exchanged in rapid bursts. Beomgyu swallowed hard. His tent was further out than the others, which gave him a sliver of cover, but he knew he had to move. As he stepped out of his tent, a bullet zipped past him, close enough to feel the air shift against his cheek. He flinched, his heart hammering in his chest.
“What the—”
A scream drew his attention. A bandit, snarling and swinging his weapon, was overwhelmed by an infected lunging at him from the side. The sight froze Beomgyu in place, fear rooting him to the spot.
A hand clamped over his mouth, silencing the scream that threatened to escape. He turned sharply, eyes wide, only to see you staring back at him.
“We’re leaving. Or we’re dead,” you whispered, your voice urgent but low. Beomgyu hesitated, glancing toward the other tents. He wanted to go to the others, to check if they were okay, but you tightened your grip on his wrist, stopping him.
“They will see you,” you hissed. Behind you, the infected were starting to swarm the camp, drawn by the gunfire. Beomgyu felt a lump rise in his throat. Your hand dropped from his mouth, and you tugged on his wrist, shoving him back toward his tent. “Grab your things. Be fast.”
Beomgyu stumbled inside, adrenaline coursing through him as he grabbed his backpack. He hadn’t even unpacked yet, telling himself earlier he’d do it in the morning. Now, it didn’t matter. There wasn’t going to be a morning if he stayed.
When he stepped back out, you were watching the bandits, your jaw clenched. He noticed your backpack already slung over your shoulder. The white shirt you’d worn earlier was still visible beneath a hastily thrown-on jacket, paired with cargo pants and sturdy boots.
“Come on,” You started moving, weaving through the shadows with practiced steps. Beomgyu followed—heart heavy and torn as he glanced back toward the other tents.
His four brothers weren’t with him.
Beomgyu’s feet ached with every step. He had been trailing behind you for what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than fifty minutes. Your strides were quick, far faster than he could have imagined for someone with shorter legs than his. He had no idea where you were leading him, and the darkness of the woods only made it worse.
Shadows stretched long between the trees, and every crackle of leaves underfoot made his heart jump. But then you turned back to look at him, your face briefly influenced by the moon's light—it was just a quick check to make sure he was still behind—and somehow that was enough to keep him moving.
Finally, you stopped in front of a towering tree. Its trunk was wide and strong, the kind that seemed to have stood for centuries. You tilted your head up to inspect it, then turned back to him. “This will do. We’ll climb up here,”
Beomgyu blinked, his gaze sweeping nervously between you and the tree. Climbing? He had never climbed a tree before—not even as a kid. But the alternative—staying on the ground, exposed to the infected, or people that might be lurking—was far worse.
“O-okay,” The two of you did not know where you were going—or how far you still had to go—but at least up here, you could catch your breath. He watched as you point toward the bark, signaling for him to go first.
“Here,” you said, tapping a sturdy-looking notch just above your reach. “Put your foot here.”
“You sure it’ll hold?”
“It will, trust me.”
Beomgyu swallowed hard and placed his foot on the notch. It felt solid, but the uneven texture of the bark made him wobble slightly. He grabbed the trunk for balance, his fingers scraping against the rough surface. “Here, grab this branch,” you guided him, pointing to a solid-looking limb.
The bark was rough, but he held on, his muscles trembling. The tree swayed just a little under his weight, the rustling leaves made him think that the whole thing might give way. But it didn’t. With a grunt, he hoisted himself, settling into a spot that felt stable enough to hold him. The height gave him an odd sense of relief—He looked down at you, his fear replaced by a grin.
“This is so cool,” The horrors of the night melted away. You smirked, shaking your head as you reached for the first branch, beginning your own ascent. Beomgyu’s gaze stayed on you, his hands hovering slightly as if wanting to help but unsure how.
When you were nearly at his level, reaching for a branch to pull yourself up, the wood suddenly gave way with a sharp crack. Making you slip. “Shit!” Beomgyu lunged toward you, his hands finding your elbow just in time. “I-I—What do I do?!”
“Can you not panic like you’re the one about to fall?” you snapped, though your voice lacked real bite.
“Right!” he stammered, his grip tightening. You grasped his other outstretched arm, and with one strong pull, he managed to haul you up. The force of it sent you toppling forward, landing squarely against him. For a second, everything went still. Beomgyu’s breath hitched as he looked up at you, your face inches from his.
You could feel the warmth of his body against your chest, see the subtle freckles and barely-there moles on his skin that you hadn’t noticed before. His gaze flickered to your lips.
In a swift motion, you pushed yourself off him—brushing the dust and bits of bark from your clothes, you avoided his eyes. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet.
An hour had passed since the two of you settled. Your back leaned towards the tree and for a brief moment, you let your eyes close, though your mind raced.
Plans. Risks. Next steps.
“What’s the next plan?”
You opened your eyes, exhaling softly. “I’m planning to check back at the camp once the sun’s up,” you said after a moment. “From a distance. The infected were drawn to the gunfire, so I doubt they’ll stay there. But I need to see what’s left.”
Beomgyu nodded, “We should see if there’s anyone still there. Maybe stuck or hiding.”
You glanced at him and adjusted the rifle slung across your chest. The weight of the handgun in your pocket and the knives strapped to your thighs felt heavier.
“We’ll try to track them too,” you said, then added quietly, “Or you could stay here and wait for me.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Okay.”
Silence fell between you again, interrupted only by the faint rustle of leaves. Beomgyu broke it with a sudden thought. “I can’t believe people can kill each other just like that,” he said, voice with disbelief.
The words made you pause. Your eyes, previously shut, opened fully, and you turned your head slightly toward him. But you said nothing. “Why did they do that?” Beomgyu asked, his tone softer now.
You didn’t respond. Instead, you looked away, avoiding his gaze. His eyes—they were too brown, too soft for a world like this. When the silence stretched too long, he shifted uncomfortably, his ears flushing red. “I… I wanna thank you. For bringing me with you,” he said, shyly. “Thank you, Y/N.”
“Sleep,” you said, brushing his gratitude aside. “I’ll keep watch.”
“I do think I can,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. "I swear I can still hear the gunshots in my ears.” You sighed. Sleep wasn’t an option for you either.
Beomgyu hesitated before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”
“You already did,”
His face flushed deeper. “I mean… another question.”
When you didn’t respond, he continued, “Why are you the only woman in your team?”
Your eyes flicked to him, one brow raising slightly. “Are you implying there shouldn’t be one?”
“No! God, no,” he said quickly, his hands flailing slightly as he stumbled over his words. “I mean, it’s just—wow. It’s amazing.”
“That a woman can do a man’s job?”
“No—yes—no!” Beomgyu groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just mean, like… it’s impressive. Especially since women aren’t even required to go through military service. But here you are, and you’re killing it—uh, not literally—well, maybe literally, but—”
You studied his flustered face for a moment before cutting him off, “I get it,” you said, watching as relief washed over him. “I think I was just… born for this. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.”
“That’s… cool,” he murmured, nodding slowly. You hummed, leaning your head back against the tree.
“I don’t think I can imagine myself doing anything else either,” Beomgyu said, thoughtful. He stared at his hands, a small smile tugging at his lips. You watched him for a second longer than you meant to.
“That’s cool,” you echoed his words, earning a laugh from him. His smile widened, his laugh soft but real, and it lit up the darkness around you. Even his laugh—
It made you look away, your chest tightening. His smile—it was dangerous.
Beomgyu turned his gaze to you, studying your profile. The way your lashes caught the faint moonlight. Beautiful, he thought.
“How old were you when you joined the military?” he asked, randomly. Your expression froze, startled by the question.
“What?”
“I mean, if it’s okay to ask,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his tone careful. “You don’t have to—”
You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. That question—it wasn’t one you wanted to answer again. Not now. Not ever.
“Close your eyes and rest,” you said flatly, “We’re done talking. The dead might hear us.”
The other one's face fell.
The sunlight was warm against Beomgyu's face, pulling him from his sleep. He blinked a few times, squinting at the brightness, trying to shake off his muzzy state.
"Hey, sleeping beauty." You say, "If you want to come, we need to go. Now."
He turned to see you already packing up, tossing a protein bar his way without looking. He barely caught it, fumbling it in his hands before managing a weak, “Thanks.”
"Let's go." You unscrewed your water bottle and took a quick drink before slinging your gear over your shoulder. Without waiting for him to respond, you started climbing down from the tree. Beomgyu followed, the descent easier than the nerve-wracking climb up last night, his legs still felt stiff from the awkward position he’d slept in. His feet hit the forest floor, and he took a deep breath. The woods in daylight were almost beautiful painting everything in shades of green.
He yawned, unwrapping his protein bar as he fell into step behind you. The two of you walked in silence, his eyes wandering over the scenery. It was hard to reconcile how peaceful the forest looked with the gnawing fear in his gut. About twenty minutes in, you suddenly stopped, your hand shooting up in a signal. Beomgyu, distracted, nearly walked into you.
“Infected,”
He followed your line of sight and spotted it—a man-shaped figure stumbling through the trees, its feet dragging awkwardly. The distance between you and it was still considerable.
Beomgyu glanced at you, his eyes wide. “How did you even see that?” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have noticed it until it was right in front of us.”
You ignored the question, “You haven't done this yet, so now’s the time to learn.”
Now, the words struck him awake. He’d known this was coming—he wasn’t naive—but he hadn’t expected it to be now. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t we find, I don’t know, somewhere more open for this?” He couldn’t help the nervous edge in his voice. Just weeks ago, his biggest challenge was memorizing their group's choreography.
“This is the perfect place to practice,” you said, not bothering to look at him.
He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “I mean, I’m not scared or anything, but—”
“Scared?” you interrupted, finally turning to him with a raised eyebrow.
“No. Let’s just get it over with.”
You nodded, pulling a knife from your belt and handing it to him. The weight of it in his hand felt foreign. He stared at the blade, the black handle smooth, well maintained. His eyes caught the faint etching of your name on it.
“Grip it like this,” you said, adjusting his grip. Your hands were firm, guiding his fingers into place. “Keep your thumb here for control. When you strike, aim for the head and use enough force so you don’t have to do it twice.”
He nodded, his throat dry. "Go in when I say.”
The infected was closer now, its groans louder, its movements jerky and unnatural. You gestured for him to move to the left, opposite of where you were going. He obeyed, his steps hesitant.
You moved quickly, drawing its attention. Beomgyu couldn’t take his eyes off you as you circled it without second thoughts or any fear.With a sharp kick, you knocked its legs out from under it. The infected collapsed to its knees, and you pressed your boot into its back, holding it in place. “Come here,”
Beomgyu swallowed hard, the knife trembling in his hand as he approached.
“Kill it,” you instructed, tilting the infected’s head to expose its temple.
His heart pounded as he raised the knife. He brought it down, but his strike lacked strength, and blade only sank halfway in. The infected howled, its hands clawing weakly at the air. “Y/N, I—what do I—”
“Again,” you cut him off, grabbing his other hand and placing it on the knife. “Use both hands if you have to. Pull it out and try again. Harder this time.”
He did as you said, the knife coming free with a sickening squelch. Blood splattered onto his hands, warm and sticky, and he nearly gagged. Clenching his teeth, he raised the blade again and drove it down with all his strength. The groaning stopped, the infected falling silent.
You let the body slump to the ground, standing up as Beomgyu stumbled away, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He made it to the nearest tree before doubling over, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the forest floor.
Tears pricked at his eyes as he wiped his mouth. That infected—it wasn’t just a monster. It had been a person once, a living, breathing human being. Maybe they had a family waiting for them, a home filled with memories, or a life they’d worked hard to build. Maybe they’d been on a vacation or rushing to work the day the world fell apart.
Beomgyu���s breath hitched—he was the one who ended them, the one who took what little remained of their existence. He never imagined his life would come to this—how could he? Just a month ago, his world had been with roaring crowds, and music that echoed through stadiums. He’d been smiling at cameras, shooting music videos, and waving to fans who looked at him like he was untouchable, someone larger than life.
You crouched next to him, holding out a piece of cloth. He stared at your hand for a moment before taking it —your hands looked smaller than his, fragile—he wipes the blood on his trembling fingers.
How? How could you—manage to do all of this?
“You ended its suffering,” you said quietly, hesitant. “That’s how I try to think of it.”
“Does it get easier?”
“Never.”
It was just a single word, but somehow, it felt like a glimpse—Beomgyu feels closer. It felt like he knew you just a little bit better.
The two of you continued toward the overrun camp, the knife you’d lent Beomgyu still in his hands. For all the danger the weapon symbolized, it seemed to bring him a strange kind of comfort, his grip on it much more familiar.
Another walker crossed your path, Beomgyu stepped forward, more sure of himself this time. With just a little guidance from you, he managed to take it down.
Familiarity.
When you reached the backside of the camp, low growls echoed from ahead. Slowly, you leaned out to peek, careful not to make a sound. About a dozen infected, just as you expected.
And just as you'd predicted, the bandits had left too, leaving nothing behind but destruction. You moved, glancing over your shoulder to check on Beomgyu. He was scanning the area, his movements mirroring yours. That small action made your chest swell with pride.
He's learning. He's trying. And most of all, he's here—for his friends.
Together, you began checking the tents, moving smoothly and silently. Nothing. No survivors. But you found a few supplies—military rations, protein bars, ammo and some guns. Grabbing a duffel bag, you started packing up. Beomgyu helped in without hesitation.
Halfway through the camp, Beomgyu froze. His eyes locked on something ahead. That’s when you saw it too.
BEOMGYU, KAI, WE GOT OUT. WITH THE OTHERS. WE’RE HEADING TO THE JEONJU CAMP. STAY SAFE. SB, YJ, AND TH.
“They got out,” Beomgyu said, his voice breaking the silence. Relief washed over him, lifting some of the weight he’d been carrying. Kai wasn’t with them yet, but this was hope. He would find Kai too. He’d see this message too. “I knew it!”
He spun around to face you, a grin breaking across his face. He pumped his fist in the air, silently cheering as if he’d just hit the jackpot. That boyish smile, dimples and all, made him look so much younger.
And then, he saw it—a faint, fleeting curve of your lips.
His laugh bubbled out, soft and genuine, as he ran toward you, nearly tripping over his own feet in excitement. You're perfect, he thinks, the thought hitting him as naturally as breathing. You try to step back, caught off guard, but it’s too late.
It’s already too late.
“I freaking knew it,” he said, his arms around you warm, his chin resting on the top of your head. You stood frozen, your hands awkwardly at your sides, nodding stiffly.
“I told you,” he whispered. When he finally steps back, his eyes search your face, the smile he’d seen just moments ago is already gone. You look away, avoiding his gaze, and the sudden absence of it—leaves an ache in his chest.
He wants to see it again.
“Let’s wrap this up and circle outside the camp,” you say, pulling the zipper closed on the duffel bag you’d packed full. “We need to check if Kai’s lingering nearby. And we’ll need to secure a vehicle too. We’re in Daejeon—its a long way to Jeonju.”
“Thank you.” Beomgyu’s voice is quiet, and his cheeks flush red as he remembers his earlier outburst—the way he’d hugged you without thinking. Maybe it was the relief from the message, or maybe it was just seeing you smile at him for the first time.
“Why do you think they’re in Jeonju?”
“Probably got a radio response,”
He nods, falling in step behind you as you heft the duffel bag over your shoulder. Beomgyu quickens his pace, catching up to you. He tugs the bag from your hands. “Let me take this,”
The two of you stepped out of the tent, the silence heavy between you. You were nearing the camp’s edge when Beomgyu noticed you slowing down, your steps faltering.
Seo-jun.
His movements were slow, his hands trembling as he stumbled forward. He's looking at you. Seo-jun’s blood-soaked uniform and gaping bite on his neck entered your vision. Gunshot wounds riddled his chest—a soldier’s final stand. He had fought. Hard. For his team. For everyone.
"Y/N?" Beomgyu’s voice broke through the haze, soft but urgent. He noticed that you had stopped, your gaze fixed on the infected figure ahead. He squinted, and his heart sank when he realized it was someone from your team.
Seven years. You had known Seo-jun for seven years. You had planned to make things right with him, to talk, to reconcile. But how could you now? How could you fix things when he was already lost? You tried to blink away the moisture from your eyes.
“Am I ever getting a break?” you muttered to yourself, the words bitter. "Even here, you find a way to mock me, Seo-jun."
Beomgyu could hear the shakiness in your voice, the rawness in the way you spoke. He listens.
You couldn’t leave him like this. Alone in his lifeless form, wandering endlessly. He deserved more than that. “Come on, you shit,” you muttered, your throat tightening as you stepped forward, reaching for your knife. But you froze.
Around his neck, alongside his dog tags, hung another set. Min Ju-won’s. Even at the end, Seo-jun had carried that burden, blaming himself for something you both knew wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t let it go, not even in death.
Beomgyu moved before he could think. He didn't know if it was the look in your eyes or the way your hand trembled, but he knew one thing: he couldn’t let you do this. While Seo-jun was distracted by your figure, Beomgyu raised his weapon. Just as you had taught him hours ago, he aimed for the head.
Seo-jun’s body crumpled to the ground. Beomgyu guided him down gently, almost reverently. From his backpack, Beomgyu pulled an extra jacket. Without a word, he draped it over Seo-jun’s face. It wasn’t much, but it was the only dignity he could offer.
When he stood, his eyes met yours, raw and glistening with emotion.
“Why—” Your voice cracked, unable to finish the question.
“He was your friend,” he said quietly. “I'm not going to let you do that. Not while I’m here.”
Friend.
That single word shattered whatever fragile wall you’d been holding up. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped it away with your hand.
“He’s not suffering anymore,” Beomgyu added softly, his hand gently brushing the top of your head—you avoided his eyes, yet again. “He’s not suffering,”
He bent down to grab the duffel bag he’d dropped earlier, slinging it over one shoulder. Then, he reached out, his hand wrapping around your wrist.
“Let's get out of here.” He pulled you forward.
Beomgyu's hand didn’t leave yours until the two of you were far beyond the camp.
"Hey," you called out to Beomgyu, who was busy checking a nearby car. "This looks fresh—like it hasn’t been here long." He made his way over, and you held out—a baseball, cap.
"Wait," Beomgyu said, eyes widening as he took it. Turning it over in his hands, he inspected it closely. "This… this is Kai’s,"
When you looked at him, a small smile was already spreading across his face, lighting up his features like it always did.
Beomgyu… he was so easily moved by the smallest things. It didn’t take much to make him smile. Or maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe it was because he loved his brothers, that even the smallest sign of them was enough to give him something to hold onto.
You dropped your gaze when his eyes met yours and moved toward the next car, pretending. But your thoughts refused to stay put. Here you were again, thinking about him—about his silly antics.
In the past twelve hours, it felt like he’d done nothing but occupy your mind. Every small moment with him clung to you. The way his voice softened when he spoke—The way he’d quietly ask, “You okay?” as if you were the one who needed saving.
After Seo-jun—he hadn’t said a word about it. No awkward condolences, no probing questions. Just silence—the kind you needed. Like he just… knew. No one had ever been like this—this careful, this kind. No one had ever looked at you the way he did, with eyes that were too brown and too full of something you didn’t want to name.
You didn’t like it.
You didn’t like it at all.
“I think Kai’s already ahead of us,” you bit into the bland military ration that was handed to you. “Heading towards Jeonju, if those tracks are anything to go by. He’s smart.”
“He is,” Beomgyu agreed, a small smile at his lips as he stirred the contents of his disposable pack. “He’s the calmest one too.”
“Then I guess we will see him there,” you said with a shrug. “Now all we need to do is find a working car.”
“A manual,”
“Hm.”
“That has gas in it.”
“Figures,” you muttered. “But that’ll be the easier part.”
Silence settled over the two of you again, it had become strangely common. You both ate, focused on the food. Every so often, you’d catch Beomgyu glancing your way, and flashes you his small, boyish grin on his face.
You tossed the empty pack toward a nearby car and wiped your hands on your pants. “It’s getting dark soon,” you said. “We should camp nearby and head out at first light.” Moving at night was usually the smarter option, especially with a vehicle and a full team. But here, now? Just the two of you, on foot, with no guarantee of shelter or backup—it wasn’t worth the risk.
Sticking to the woods was safer. The fewer infected—or people—you encountered, the better. You only ventured onto the road when there was a car worth checking.
In the fading light, a barn came into view. Its doors were wide open, silhouetted against the trees. You signaled Beomgyu to wait outside while you moved to secure the area. Inside, it was clear the owner had left in a hurry, taking most of what mattered. It was empty, save for a few odds and ends no one had cared to take—its enough for a temporary shelter.
“Looks good enough,” you murmured as you stepped back outside. Beomgyu nodded, already starting to unload your supplies. The discovery of a small lake nearby was an unexpected bonus.
“I’m going to wash up,” you said, gathering what you needed and slinging your gun over your shoulder. Beomgyu gave a slight nod, his eyes lingering on you as you walked away.
The water was cold, scouring away the dirt and sweat. You were quick, not wanting to leave Beomgyu alone for long. When you returned, your damp hair clung to your neck, and your skin was clean and slightly chilled.
“Your turn,” He glanced up, eyes flitting over your freshly washed face. His heart thudded hard in his chest. Cute, he thought, forcing himself to look away. Beomgyu nodded, grabbing his things and heading out to the lake. He came back just as fast, hair dripping but visibly refreshed.
You sat side by side on the makeshift bedding, neither of you saying much. Beomgyu’s soft breathing enters your ears—hand rested close enough that you could almost feel its warmth against your skin.
You found your eyes beginning to close with peace you hadn’t realized you were still capable of feeling.
Beomgyu woke up, immediately turning to his left. There you were, curled up on your side, the rise and fall of your chest visible in the dim space. He stared, mesmerized—it was the first time he’d ever seen you asleep. You looked… soft. A side of you he never thought he’d witness.
He shifted. The urge to pee was becoming unbearable. Careful not to wake you, Beomgyu slipped off and crept toward the barn door. The cold air hit him as he stepped outside, wrapping his arms tightly around himself for warmth. He scanned the area just like you’d taught him—ears tuned to every sound. Nothing.
He let out a breath of relief and headed to a nearby tree. Unzipping his pants, he took care of business quickly, the chill urging him to hurry. After he finished and zipped back up, a faint rustling behind him made him stop. Before he could turn, a large, rough hand clamped over his mouth, oppressing his scream. Another arm locked around his neck, pulling him back against a solid chest.
“Shut up if you value your life,” a low, gravelly voice growled against his ear. The man holding him inhaled deeply near his hair, a disgusting, exaggerated sniff. “Freshly washed. You’ve got a place nearby, don’t you?”
Beomgyu’s eyes darted ahead, and his stomach dropped when three more men stepped into view. Each held a weapon—a bat, a knife, and worst, a pistol. The man restraining him gives a rough shake, his breath hot and foul. “Don’t make me ask again. Where’s your camp?”
Beomgyu shook his head violently, panic blooming in his chest. He couldn't—he wouldn't—lead them back to you. The thought of them finding you, sleeping and unaware—this was his fault. He should have been more careful.
The man growled in frustration. “Y' think this is a joke?” he spat, hardening his chokehold. Beomgyu’s throat made a strangled sound as he gasped for air. The man with the knife stepped forward, expression predatory. “Maybe this will help him remember,” he said, pressing the blade against Beomgyu’s cheek. The sharp metal bit into his skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make him wince.
“There’s a barn ahead,” the one with the baseball bat said,“Think that’s it?” Beomgyu’s reaction betrayed him—his wide eyes and the flash of fear gave them all the confirmation they needed.
“Yeah,” the man holding him laughed darkly, “that’s it.”
Before Beomgyu could resist, they forced his hands behind his back and bound them tightly, shoving a cloth into his mouth to stifle any protest. He struggled, but it was no use—they yanked him forward, dragging him roughly toward the barn. And he knew exactly where they were taking him. To you.
“Fucking hell,” the man holding Beomgyu growled, his gaze shifting to your sleeping figure inside the barn. A dark grin tugged at his lips. “Is this what you’re so scared of? Afraid we’ll take her away from you?”
Beomgyu thrashed, desperate to scream, to warn you, but the cloth bound tight in his mouth smothered any sound. The group moved closer, one of them stepping forward to push the barn door open. The large, old door creaked. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to wake you.
Your eyes snapped open, adjusting to the figures looming at the entrance, shadows that didn’t belong. Your hand reached for the gun nearby. The glint of their weapons caught your eye as they aimed at you in return.
“Sweetheart,” the tallest man drawled, stepping forward. His tone was mocking, dangerous. He shoved someone in front of him—Beomgyu. Your breath hitched as your eyes locked onto his. His face was pale, streaked with dirt and tears, and a raw red mark marred his cheek. His wide, terrified eyes pleaded with you.
Red.
“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” You cocked your gun, the sharp metallic click echoing. One of them flinched. Good.
The leader sneered, shoving Beomgyu roughly to the side. He tied him to a post like he was nothing more than an animal. Your jaw tightened as you watched the way they manhandled him, your fists clenching around the gun. When he was done, the leader turned back to you, whistling low at the deadly glare you levelled at him. His cocky smirk only deepened.
“You look loaded,” he said, his eyes flicking to the bags by the wall. “And since you asked so nicely, we’d also like to take turns with you, sweetheart.”
Beomgyu shook his head violently from where he was tied, his muffled cries useless against their laughter. His chest heaved, panic consuming him as the men began to advance on you.
“We’re lucky you’re here,” the leader continued, leering. “If we didn’t have a choice, we’d take the boy instead. He’s got such a pretty face, after all.”
Red.
All you saw was red.
Your vision blurred as rage consumed you. You let one of them grab your gun without resistance. It didn’t matter.
You'll kill them all.
The leader was close now, grabbing a fistful of your hair to tilt your head back. His face was inches from yours, his smirk as disgusting as the words spilling from his mouth. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? No fight left in you?”
You smirked—just a little. It was enough to confuse him, before he could react, your teeth sank into his throat. Hard.
It was a spot right where you knew it would hurt most. A pressure point. His scream ripped through while he stumbled back, clutching at the gaping wound with blood pouring through his fingers. The bitter, metallic taste flooded your mouth, but you didn't stop. You grabbed the gun he dropped as he fell and turned, firing without hesitation.
BANG.
The man who had taken your gun didn’t even have time to aim before he hit the ground.
“Fuck—” one of them snarled, charging at you. Before he could get too close, your foot sweeped his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a grunt.
BANG.
You aim your gun and pulled the trigger on his face. The man with the bat.
Pain exploded in your shoulder, a gunshot tearing through your flesh, but you didn’t flinch. His mistake wasn’t pulling the trigger; it was not aiming for your head like you aimed for his.
BANG.
The leader gurgled, blood bubbling up from his lips as he stared at you in disbelief. “Monster—” he chokes on the floor, his hands futilely gripping his shredded throat. His blood pooled beneath him as he sputtered his last, trying and failing to form a single word. “You—”
BANG.
You stared at the four lifeless bodies beneath you, the gun in your hand began to feel impossibly heavy. Blood clung to your shirt like a second skin, still warm, sticky. Your mouth tasted metallic, your hair a disheveled mess from the earlier struggle.
Behind you, Beomgyu sat slumped against the post, trembling. He’d watched everything—every deafening shot, every life you’d taken to protect. His body flinched with each pull of the trigger. Now, his tears streamed freely, but not out of fear. No, this wasn’t fear.
He was crying because you had to do this.
Sobbing around the cloth still gagging him, his muffled cries echoing in the now-silent barn. You moved, steps distant, as if someone else controlled them. You crouched down and began untying the ropes binding Beomgyu to the post. His breath hitched as your fingers worked the knots, your hands stained with blood that was not yours. The ropes fell loose. Beomgyu searched your face, desperate for some sign of emotion—but your eyes were blank, lost.
Before he could speak, you stood, bolting toward the barn door. Beomgyu panicked. He hiccuped, scrambling to his feet, his legs weak from being tied up for so long. “Y/N!” he tried to call, but his voice cracked. His head spinning.
You were gone. Were you leaving him? He looked around frantically, his feet faltering as the barn opened into the cool night. He couldn’t lose you. Not now.
Beomgyu finds you at the small lake nearby, kneeling in the water. The cold ripples lapped at your clothes, soaking them, but you didnt seem to notice. Your hands scrubbed furiously at your arms, over and over, like you were trying to erase your own skin. “Y/N,”
“Y-You were shot,” he said, voice cracking. His eyes darted to your shoulder, blood had begun to seep through your shirt.
You gasped for air, your chest squeezing with every shallow breath. No matter how hard you tried, it felt like the air couldn't reach your lungs. Your hands clutched your face as if you could physically hold yourself together—thoughts raced through your mind, loud and suffocating. The world around you blurred and warped, slipping further and further from your grasp.
You killed them.
“Y/N—” Beomgyu’s voice broke through. “Breathe—”
You barely registered him.
“Can you—”
“Look at me!” he shouted, louder this time. Hands cupping your face, trembling as much as yours. “Baby, look at me.” Your eyes darted up, locking onto his. Your tears spilled down your face.
“That’s it,” he said, his voice softening, “Just keep looking at me, brave girl.” You leaned into him, your weight heavy against his chest. His soft voice leads you.
“Okay,” he said, his forehead brushing yours gently. “I need you to help me out. Can you do that?” You nodded weakly in his arms.
“Good. Start with five things you can see. Anything, okay? Just tell me five things.” Your gaze darted, focusing on anything you could name. “The tree,” you whispered shakily. “The grass. The water. Your tears. And…you.”
“That’s it,” he said, “Now, four things you can touch. What are they?”
“Your hands,” you murmured, your fingers twitching against his. “The water. My hair. And…stones.”
“Perfect,” he said, his thumbs now against your cheeks. “What about three things you can hear?” You breathed deeply this time, the cloud in your head beginning to lift. “The wind. The water. And you.” His lips curved into the smallest, most fragile smile. “Two things you can smell?”
You hesitated. “The blood,” you admitted, voice cracking. “And…the trees.”
“One thing you can taste.”
You swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes fully. “Metal,” you whispered, voice barely audible.
"You did it." Beomgyu’s voice trembled, his hands cradling your face with a gentleness that only made the tears come faster. He does his best to brush them away. "Thank fuck."
“Beomgyu,” his name on your lips slips out barely more than a whisper. Forehead pressed against his shoulder, your arms wrapping around him slowly, shakily, until they found their place on his back.
There's a soft press of lips against your temple, warm and fleeting.
He helped you wash the blood off your body, his hands careful, never lingering longer than necessary. His gaze flicked to yours every few seconds, searching for some sign of permission—or maybe for you to tell him to stop. But you didn't. You can't, not when his eyes held that pleading look, soft and desperate, as if this was the only way he could help you carry the weight of what had happened.
When it came time to clean your face, you stopped him with a slight shake of your head. He didn’t argue.
Later, he examined the gunshot wound on your shoulder, gently turning you to check for an exit wound. Relief flickered across his face when he found one. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, had this more than I can keep track of.” you replied. His head snapped up, disbelief written all over his features.
The two of you walked back to the barn in silence, clothes damp from the lake. Your hands swung loosely at your sides, brushing his once, then twice, until Beomgyu hesitantly reached out and took your hand in his. You didn’t pull away.
“You can wait here,” he said softly when the barn came into view. “I’ll grab our things. We need to leave—someone might’ve heard.” You nodded, understanding without him saying it: he didn’t want you to see the bodies again.
Within minutes, he returned with your bags. You rummaged through yours, finding fresh pants and underwear but no shirt. “Do you have a shirt?”
“I do,” He's already handing it to you.
“Thanks.”
Slipping it over your head, you caught the faint scent of him—musky, with a subtle sweetness. It suited him.
The two of you moved to a nearby tree, settling under its shadow. The world was still dark, the night stretching on endlessly. You sat beside him, his shoulders side by side with yours.“Can you say it again?”
“What?”
“My name,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. You noticed the tips of his ears reddening. “Like you did earlier.”
“No,”
He chuckled, his gaze falling to where your hands rested in your lap. “As I expected.” When you did not respond, he ventured another question. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What about it?”
“Was that your first t—”
“It wasn’t,” you cut him off, your eyes fixed ahead. You didn’t know why, but the words kept coming. “I’ve killed before. Being a soldier in the war… it wasn’t a choice. Sometimes I even had to kill my own teammates.” You paused,“But this… it’s different. They were civilians.”
“You had to kill your teammates too?”
You turned to him, studying the calm expression on his face. His eyes—the same ones that had anchored you earlier—held no trace of distrust, even after your confession. “Why aren’t you freaked out by this?”
“Because I want to know you,” he said with a small shrug. “Believe it or not, I’ve always been a good judge of character—or at least, that’s what my mom used to say. Soobin, too.” He paused, his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. “Ever since I met you, there hasn’t been a single thing you’ve done that I couldn’t understand.” The answer caught you off guard, made something in you falter.
"I had to kill them because they asked me to,"
“Then you're the strongest person I’ve ever met.” You didn’t know how to respond—you dont trust your voice not to break. How could he look at you like that after everything he’d seen? After all you’d done?
Minutes passed, when you felt him shift beside you, his arm lifting as he gently guided your head to rest on his shoulder. The warmth of him made it easier to close your eyes.
"You can rest now,"
“This one doesn’t work either,” Beomgyu called out from up ahead. You were still busy checking the car you’d been inspecting—never mind. It didn’t work, either.
“Should we just go on foot?” he asked, exasperation into his voice. It had been over a day of wandering and hoping to find a working vehicle. There’d been a few infected here and there, but sticking to the backroads had kept you from running into anything worse than a small group.
“It’s dangerous,” you replied without looking up.
Silence.
Beomgyu never let a comment slide without a retort, you know that by now. Heart thumping, you stepped out of the car and scanned the area, instincts on high alert.
“BAH!” He jumped out in front of you, doubling over with laughter so intense it sounded like he might choke. “You should’ve seen your face!” he managed between gasps. “It was so cute.”
“Are you done?”
Clearing his throat, Beomgyu grinned. It was just another one of his attempts to get on your nerves. He pulled something from his pocket—a dusty Polaroid camera he had found in one of the trucks. He flipped it open and checked the film. Two shots left. Without missing a beat, he raised it to his face and clicked the button.
You blinked, unimpressed. “Are you even checking the cars, or are you just running around pretending to be Dora the Explorer?”
Beomgyu smirked as the film began developing. “You watch Dora?”
“No.”
“You just mentioned her.”
“She’s famous.”
“So am I,” he shot back. “But you didn’t know me before this.”
“Are you seriously going to bring that up again?”
“Heh.” Beomgyu’s grin only widened. He could almost see it—the tiniest twitch at the corner of your lips before you turned away. Almost. It made his heart flutter in that stupid, uncontrollable way he hated admitting to himself.
As the photo developed, he glanced down at it. The image of you slowly came into view—you, standing in the middle of the road, hair pulled into a loose ponytail, staring at something out of frame with a faintly confused look on your face. “Beautiful,” he exhales.
If you looked this good now, how stunning would you be on a normal day?
If this were a normal day, Beomgyu would be all over you.He’d give you flowers every single day, just to make you smile. He’d buy you anything you wanted—or even things you didn’t know you needed. Love is effort. It's what his parents taught him. — And he’d give it, all of it. He’d take photos of you, even beg if he had to, make playlists for you, play games with you, anything.
He wondered if you’d be any good at FPS games. You were already a menace with a gun in real life, so you’d probably be terrifying in a match.
Maybe, if the world ever allowed it, he’d convince you to visit Daegu, his hometown with him. His parents would love you. His brother, too, though Beomgyu would definitely have to bribe him to keep his mouth shut about the massive crush he’d been harboring on you. Would you like… Toto?
Beomgyu stared at the camera in his hands. Who knows if he’ll ever get another moment like this—another chance—in a world as unpredictable as this one? The idea settles in his mind, and he doesn’t let himself hesitate. “Let’s take a picture together.”
You stopped in your tracks, turning to give him that deadpan, unamused stare—the one that always made Beomgyu bite back a grin. Another idea sparked his mind, “Okay, listen. After this, I promise not to mess around anymore,” He jutted his lower lip out just slightly, eyes pleading like a puppy who’d been caught chewing on a shoe.
“You promise.”
“Cross my heart,” he said quickly, nodding like his life depended on it. When you didn’t immediately reply, he skipped towards you. He knew this silence, too—your subtle little “yes” that didn’t require any words. He’d been observing you to pick up on your signals, even the smallest ones.
Without giving you time to change your mind, Beomgyu lifted the camera, stepped close, and pressed his cheek against yours. The faint warmth of your skin against his made his stomach flip, but he ignored it, snapping the picture before you could pull away.
You jerked back, shaking your head.
As the photo developed, Beomgyu stared at it, the edges curling faintly as the image sharpened. There it was—your face, with that same unamused look, your lips slightly pressed together like a daughter forced into posing for an overly enthusiastic mom. Beside you was him, the complete opposite—grinning like an idiot, dimples on full display, both your faces so close, touching.
Something about the contrast, about the way your expressions came together on that tiny square, made his heart do that stupid fluttering thing again. He tucked the photo into his pocket, alongside the other one.
He kept his promise and moved to the next car with you.
After three more hours of searching, you finally found a working car. Beomgyu let out an excited cheer, breaking into his little happy dance again. You tried not to smile, tried not to let his enthusiasm rub off on you—but, honestly, it was getting harder and harder to resist.
"Catch," you called, tossing the last bag to him. He caught it easily, stashing it in the backseat. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you glanced over as he settled into the passenger side. He looked so at ease there, sprawling out and fiddling with something on the dash. A passenger princess. Or was it prince? Either way, you could get used to him being there, looking peaceful for once.
You started the engine and pulled out onto the road, the car’s windows down to let in the cool breeze. As you drove, Beomgyu’s gaze drifted to your hair, your loose ponytail starting to come undone from the wind.
“Let me fix this for you,” he said, leaning over.
You felt his hands gently brush against your hair as he worked, careful not to distract you too much while you focused on the road. In the rearview mirror, you caught sight of his face—his brow furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted. His fingers brushed against your neck as he gathered your hair, the touch light and deliberate. You could feel the care in the way he worked, securing the ponytail more tightly this time. "There."
When he finished, he leaned back, his hands falling to his lap as he took a moment to admire his work—admiring you. His gaze lingered, drinking in the curve of your face, the way your hands gripped the steering wheel just tight enough. He never felt safer than he did here, by your side. Somehow, in the middle of all this, he’d found his safe place.
His safe place.
“Try to get some sleep while I drive,” Beomgyu's unable to look away—you were right there in front of him, so effortlessly beautiful it made his heart ache. The soft curve of your cheeks, the faint flush that he couldn’t stop staring at—he wanted to reach out, to brush his lips against them, to trace the tip of your nose with his own.
In the short time he’d been alone with you—just forty-eight hours—it felt like he’d known you a lifetime. Like you’d been waiting there all along, someone he was meant to find. He wants to know more.
“Yeah, sleep. Sure.” He replies, words catching in his throat.
You’ve been driving for a while now. Beside you, Beomgyu was fast asleep, his soft snores fill your ears. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you glanced over, his head resting against the window, one hand tucked beneath it like a pillow.
The camp was close, maybe 15 minutes away. Just 15 more minutes before you’d be separated from him. The thought twisted something deep in your chest. Selfish. You knew it was selfish to feel this way. You barely knew him, and yet…
You glanced at him again, his face soft and unguarded in sleep. Everything else seemed to fade—the road ahead, the weight of your responsibilities, even the constant buzz of survival.
Survival.
Being with him didn’t feel like you were just trying to survive.
Him—who had no choice but to end up with you. You were about to leave that camp. You're already far. But when you saw him at that overrun camp, darting between tents with nothing but desperation and bad luck to shield him from the bandits, something inside you shifted. You just moved. Your feet carried you forward before your mind could catch up, before the voice of reason could stop you.
You didn’t know then that the next two days with him would chip away at the walls you’d built.
It was the little things, mostly. The way he insisted you eat first, even when food was scarce. The way he handed you the best parts of the military rations. How he seemed to know when the weight of the barn still lingered in your mind, distracting you with his terrible jokes or a question just long enough to pull you out of it. Or how he’d ask if you’d slept okay, like it mattered in a world where nothing really did.
And that smile he gives you—so easy, so genuine, even when there was no reason for it. Like he just couldn’t help himself. But now, it was ending. It had to end. You have to end it.
You tightened your grip on the wheel, staring hard at the road ahead. This was the right thing to do, the smart thing. You’d get him to safety, to people who could take care of him better than you ever could.
He didn’t belong out here with you, and you didn’t belong anywhere.
Survival.
There's nothing more that terrified you.
You spot the camp—Jeonju. It’s much bigger, with sturdy railings circling the perimeter to keep the infected out. The car rolls closer, the guards stationed on top of the walls notice you. A blinding floodlight clicks on. You know what that means: get out and identify yourselves.
“Beomgyu,” you say, shaking him awake. “We’re here. Wake up, dumbass.”
“Huh? Oh,” he mutters, the light strike his face. “Got it.”
“We’ll leave our stuff in the car for now. We just need to head up there and check in.” He nods, following your lead as you climb out. You raise both hands in the air, palms open. Beomgyu mimics you.
“State your business!” one of the guards calls down from the wall.
Before you can answer, you notice movement out of the corner of your eye. An infected, shambling closer—too close to Beomgyu. You’re already moving, boots hitting the dirt as you drive your foot into its chest and plunge your knife into its skull.
You step back into position, brushing some blood off your sleeve. “Park Y/N!” you shout up at the guard. “I report directly to Captain Joon. I’ve got Choi Beomgyu with me—a rescued civilian.”
You waited for ten minutes, at most.
The gates creak open, the panels sliding apart to reveal three soldiers stepping out, their rifles at the ready. One of them freezes, his eyes going wide. “That’s really Y/N from the Black Berets. Idiot.”
You ignore his outburst, your gaze cool as it shifts to his badge. “Can we go in now, Ji-min?”
The soldiers straighten instantly, snapping salutes in your direction. Two of them move toward the car, offering to grab your supplies. You give them a curt nod before turning to Beomgyu, only to find him already looking at you—his eyes, questioning.
“Is my team here?” you ask the soldier who stayed behind.
“Yes,” You glance back at Beomgyu. His stare now answered. Without another word, you both start to walk toward the gate.
Beomgyu’s eyes widened, his breath unstable after he spotted the four figures waiting inside. They were here. They were really here.
Before he could fully process it, Soobin’s tall frame sprinted toward him, Yeonjun and Taehyun close behind. He barely noticed you stepping aside to give them space, his entire focus locked on his brothers. The first embrace hit him like a floodgate bursting. Strong arms pulled him in, and the dam he’d tried so hard to hold together crumbled. He buried his face into the familiar comfort of Soobin’s shoulder, trying desperately not to sob. He had missed them. They had never left his mind—not once.
“Choi Beomgyu,” Soobin said, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Are you okay?”
Yeonjun’s hand came up to gently ruffle his hair, a comforting gesture that made the lump in Beomgyu’s throat harder to swallow. “You’re not hurt, right?”
Beomgyu shook his head, sniffling as he wiped at his face.
“You took your time,” Taehyun teased with a small smile. “Sorry we couldn't wait for you back there. It's impossible to get to you, but we really tried.”
“It does not matter,” Beomgyu replied quickly, “Wait—where’s Kai?”
“He’s not here yet,” Soobin admitted, voice pained. “But one of the soldiers saw him escaping with someone else—a soldier. They said he made it out.”
“That ambush was insane,” Beomgyu nodded, even his heart ached. He had to hold onto hope. Kai was strong—he’d make it. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after, Kai would walk through those gates too.
A sudden panic shot through him, his head snapping to the side. “What’s wrong?”
Beomgyu eyes scanned the cluster of soldiers nearby. Where are you? He finally spotted you, standing with Captain Joon. The older man looked serious, but there was a warmth in his demeanor as he clapped a hand on your shoulder. You said something to him, your expression calm. Captain Joon’s face softened, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to pull you into an embrace.
“She’s been with you this whole time?” Yeonjun asked, surprised.
“Since the start,”
Soobin doesn’t wait. He steps forward, taking Beomgyu by the arm as Yeonjun and Taehyun fall in beside them. Together, the four approach you. You don't have time to register what’s happening before Soobin wraps his arms around you in a unexpected hug.
“Thank you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for bringing him back to us.”
You glance over Soobin’s shoulder, catching Beomgyu’s gaze. He’s watching you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken—a warmth that makes your chest tighten. You manage a small smile in return, the corners of your lips curving just enough to acknowledge him. He gives back a grin, that makes his dimple appear.
Gently patting Soobin on the back, you step away. “How are you holding up?” you ask,“I heard Kai’s not here yet. But with Ji-ho looking out for him, I know he’ll make it. He’s capable.”
Your words seem to ease the tension in the group. Soobin nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Yeonjun offers a faint smile, and even Taehyun pats your shoulder.
“We’re managing,” Soobin says. “Just waiting to hear what Hybe’s next steps are.”
Captain Joon appeared beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’ve done enough for today,” he says. “Go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon.”
Beomgyu trails behind the other three, footsteps slower, reluctant. He looks back over his shoulder, at the direction you went—away from him, toward your own assigned space. This camp is massive, lined with rows of tents in all shapes and sizes, yet somehow, even with so many people around, Beomgyu feels unmoored without you nearby.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. You’ll need to change the bandage on your shoulder soon. He knows that, just like he knows you probably won’t bother unless someone reminds you. It’s always him who keeps track, who insists on helping you replace the worn-out wraps.
“Here’s your room,” Taehyun points to the tent ahead. Beomgyu steps inside, placing his things near the bed. It’s small but better—an actual mattress and even a tiny bathroom. He crouches by his bag, pulling out a fresh set of clothes for after his shower.
He tugs off his shirt, fingers brushed against the knife strapped to his belt. Slowly, he unhooks it, focuses on the small engraving on the handle—your name, etched deep into the worn metal. Would you want it back? Probably. The thought makes his pout, because he doesn’t want to let it go. Not yet.
He crosses the room and sets the knife carefully on the small table, almost tenderly, like it's an object meant for something more delicate than killing.
He showers with his heart feeling impossibly heavy.
Your hair was still damp from the shower, clinging to your neck as you ran a towel through it. Tugging a fresh pair of cargo pants up your hips, you reached for your shirt.
“You should always keep it wrapped as long as it’s not healed yet.” His voice echoed in your mind, unbidden.
“Fucking Choi Beomgyu,” you muttered, shaking your head as you grabbed the roll of bandages from the small supply pile nearby. “Always so annoying.”
Your fingers worked quickly, wrapping the fresh bandage around your shoulder. The wound looked much better now. Once you were satisfied it was comfortable, you pulled your shirt over your head and stepped out of your tent.
Your stomach growled in response with the smeel of cooking. A warm meal—finally. “Y/N!”
You turned at the sound of Yeonjun’s voice. He waved you over, seated with their small group near one of the campfires. Several other campfires are on the open space with large pots of food simmered over flames. “Sit down here,” Yeonjun offered, patting the spot on the log beside him.
You took the seat, extending your hands toward the warmth of the fire. Across, your eyes met Beomgyu’s. He was seated opposite you, quiet for once, his gaze flickering away as soon as it met yours.
Yeonjun handed you a steaming bowl of soup, carefully scooped from the pot. “Fill up. It’s good,” he said with a grin.
“Thanks,” you murmured, taking the bowl into your hands. You reached for a spoon, Soobin beat you to it, holding one out.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Let me know if you need seconds.”
You cleared your throat, a little thrown off by the casual care they offered. It wasn’t something you were used to.
The conversation around the fire swirled, voices rising and falling as they swapped stories. You ate in silence, letting the warmth of the meal soothe you. It had been so long since you’d had something like this. But one person wasn’t talking much. Beomgyu.
You coughed—ate a little too fast, the food catching in your throat. It has only been a second when a water bottle was offered.
“Drink up,” Beomgyu said, already twisting the cap off for you. He reached for your bowl, holding it steady so you could take the bottle from his hand. You took a sip, the cool water easing the discomfort. “Thanks,” you muttered.
“That’s right, Beomgyu,” Taehyun teased, smirking. “Take care of her. I’m sure she had to drag your sorry ass out there.”
“She did not!” Beomgyu blurted, his ears turning red.
“Oh, I bet she carried you on her back,” Yeonjun chimed in, clearly enjoying himself. “What? No way!”
“You probably teased her the whole time,” Taehyun added, grinning.
“I didn’t—”
“What a baby,” Soobin finished with a dramatic shake of his head.
Their teasing bounced around the fire, growing louder. Mixed with exaggerated groans as playful shoves sent shoulders bumping on the log seats. Beomgyu, red-faced and clearly at his limit, stomped his foot on the ground in mock frustration.
You couldn’t help it; a laugh escaped you, small at first but growing. You quickly covered your mouth with the back of your hand, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle it.
Beomgyu's wide eyes locked on you. You laughed. You finally fucking laughed. He feels his heart about to burst at the sweet sound.
“Oh-ho, look at her!” Soobin exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “The stress must’ve caught up with her. This is your fault, Choi Beomgyu!”
"Choi Soobin, you shi—," Beomgyu sputtered in protest, and more laughter joined with you.
It had been a week since that night by the fire. A week since Beomgyu arrived at the camp with you—and a week since he last saw you laugh like that. He could still picture it—your face by the warm glow of the fire, the soft orange light making you look almost ethereal. Did you know how exquisite you look when your eyes crinkle with joy? “Did you cut the vegetables, Beomgyu?” Yeonjun asked him as he pointed at the makeshift kitchen in the camp. “Yeah, I did,” he replied, tossing the emptied cans into the trash. He’d offered to handle it, trying to distract himself. Hybe still hadn’t contacted the military about their group, so they’d started helping around. The soldiers were reluctant at first, but Soobin had talked them into it. Now, they pitched in with small domestic tasks—delivering freshly laundered clothes from the women who washed them, cutting vegetables for the large communal meals, anything to stay useful. Beomgyu learned there were about forty-five people at the camp: nine civilians like them, eleven workers, and twenty-five soldiers. It had been a week since you’d spoken to him. A week since you’d even looked at him. Beomgyu tried. He really did. He’d tried to reach out. He started waking up early—a feat for him, someone who once detested mornings—he’d wait by the path, knowing it was your routine to jog at first light. But the moment he saw you, stretching with Do-hyun under the rising sun, his courage crumbled. Feet rooted to the spot, unable to move closer. He tried during meals too, sweeping his eyes on the tables, hoping to sit with you—but every time their group arrived, you were already standing, tray in hand, heading somewhere he could not follow. He even lingered around the grounds, pretending to have something to do. Sometimes, he felt a pair of eyes on him—heart leaping at the possibility it was you—but when he looked up, the space was empty. Eventually, he’d retreat to his tent, his shoulders heavy with defeat. It felt like you were avoiding him. Ignoring him. Do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? He lay awake most nights, staring at the canvas ceiling of his tent, replaying your moments together over and over. He could still feel the warmth of your hands. The memory of you in his arms—how perfectly you fit in it. Were you okay? Was your shoulder healing as it should? Were you eating enough? Sleeping well? Had he already become invisible to you? What is he to you anyway? A friend? Do you even consider him as one?
“You’ve been out of it these past days, Beomgyu.” Yeonjun’s voice broke into his thoughts, accompanied by a firm hand on his shoulder. His eyes searched Beomgyu’s face, concern evident. “What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing, I…” Beomgyu’s voice cracked as he tried to answer. He swallowed hard, looking away. “I guess I’m just… more tired than usual.”
“If you need to talk, let me know, okay?”
"When are you going to talk to him?" Do-hyun asked, breathless, as you pulled him to his feet after knocking him down for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. The moon guides your makeshift sparring circle. You hadn’t planned to spar with him; it just happened. Restless, you’d found yourself outside his tent, knocking like a ghost haunting its own grave.
You released his hand abruptly, stepping back at his words. “Let’s go again,” you said, more to yourself than to him.
Without waiting for a reply, you charged, throwing a closed fist at his right side. He dodged it easily, his laughter breaking the tense silence.
“You know, you’re way less terrifying when you’re distracted,” he teased, grinning at the glare you shot him. “Seriously, Y/N? How long are you gonna keep ignoring the boy? The guy’s trying so hard it’s starting to make me feel bad. If it were me, I’d have fumbled already—”
Before he could finish, you grabbed him by the neck, locking him in a chokehold. “I t-tap out! Fuck! You're going to kill me.” he wheezed, coughing as you let him go. He stumbled back, rubbing his neck. “Shit, I forgot how strong your grip is. For real, how are you not a man?” You didn’t respond. Instead, you wiped the sweat from your forehead, glancing at the clock. It was nearing 11 p.m.
“Reject the kid already, will you? Do him a favor so he can move on.” Do-hyun muttered, reaching for his water bottle. “You cold-ass woman.”
“He’s not a kid,” you said finally, your voice low but firm. Grabbing a towel, you wiped the sweat from your face. “He’s almost my age.”
“Sure,” Do-hyun replied, watching you closely as you drank from your water bottle, to the bags under your eyes. “Not sleeping again?”
You shook your head, capping the bottle and tossing it aside. “It’s harder these days.”
“I know,” he said, softer now. “But you’ve gotta try. I need to head out anyway—errands tomorrow. And honestly, I can’t take more knockouts from you. Have mercy.”
“Idiot,” you muttered, smirking despite yourself.
“You’re the idiot for ignoring—” You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you turned and headed for your tent. A quick shower later, you were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The camp quiet, your mind was anything but. Frowning, you closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to come.
It never did.
Beomgyu tossed onto his right side again, the thin mattress beneath him groaning in protest. He lost count of how many times he'd shifted since lying down, each movement more restless than the last.
His chest felt tight, like his heart was pounding against some invisible weight. He sat up, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. His gaze wandered aimlessly, landing on the small table by his bedside. He froze.
Polaroids.
The universe must be mocking him for missing you this much. Did he really need more reminders?
He inhaled deeply, the sound sharp in the quiet of his tent. Standing abruptly, he began pacing, his feet brushing against the worn canvas floor as a single question churned in his mind: Should I see her? His eyes flicked to the clock—11:28 p.m. Were you even awake?
But then, what difference did it make? Another night of lying there, drowning in this ache, wasn’t an option. He just needed something—your face, your voice, anything.
That’s what he told himself as he stopped pacing, turning toward the small mirror propped against the tent’s corner. His reflection stared back, dishevelled and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in years. He raked his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it out, What the hell are you doing? he thought bitterly. You’re an idol for god’s sake.
But then again, you were… a goddess. And right now, none of the titles, pressure, his previous job or self-doubt mattered. It doesn't matter if you'll kick him out as soon as you see him.
What mattered was seeing you.
He stopped just short of your tent, staring at the outline of it. His breath hitched, and his body betrayed him as he turned away, a cowardly retreat already forming in his mind. But he only made it three steps before he falter, his fists clenching at his sides. No. Not tonight.
He turned back, counting the seconds in his head. He rehearsed the words he’d been forming for days now, words that felt too small for what he really wanted to say but would have to do. This had to count. It had to—
“I can see you out there, you know. What do you want?” The sound of your voice sent a panic through him. You sounded tired, a little annoyed. The shadows must have given him away—his pacing back and forth casting restless shapes against the thin fabric of your tent. “Do-hyun?”
“It’s… Beomgyu,” He countered quickly, the way you said another man’s name at this hour unsettling him more than it should. Silence. He braced himself for rejection, for the possibility that you’d tell him to go, that he's insane to be here at this hour, or that you didn’t want to see him.
But the truth is, your eyes are wide inside. He’s insane. What is he doing here? Why now? You stand up slowly, your fingers brushing the edge of your blanket. You can’t turn him away now. It’s too obvious. “Come in.”
Beomgyu that stood outside your tent, hand unstable when he finally pushed the flap aside. The sudden rush of light revealed you, standing there, your eyes locking onto his. For a minute, he forgot how to breathe. His eyes on your face like he was trying to memorize every line, every shadow. “Hi,” he said, it wasn’t how he had planned to start, but it was all he could manage.
You instinctively stepped behind, folding your arms across your chest as a barrier. “What is it?” You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. They were too much—too deep, too brown.
"Are you mad at me?" Beomgyu's voice wavers, cracking slightly as the words spill out. All those rehearsed lines, the ones he'd turned over in his head a thousand times, crumble into this raw, unpolished question.
"I-I��� you’ve been ignoring me, Y/N. Don’t even try to deny it." His voice rises, “I called— I even called you out there twice, and I know you heard me.” He pauses, the lump in his throat refuses to go away. "Did I… do something? Something that made you mad at me?" The words are choked, his voice barely above a whisper now.
His eyes—glassy, rimmed red—look at you—he’s holding back tears; you can tell by the way his lips tremble slightly, the way he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. But despite it all, he doesn’t look away. He can’t.
Not when he’s missed you this much.
"Beomgyu, whatever you think is between us," you let your arms fall limply to your sides, "it's nothing. This… this is just a mission. Soon, everything will go back to where it belongs." You pause, your words deliberate, heavy. "And we’ll never see each other again."
His eyebrows knit, disbelief etched his face. "Who decides that? Who says that?"
You exhale sharply, the weight of your own words pressing down on your chest. "It’s just how it is. That’s how it’s always been. You should surround yourself with people like you."
"I—" he starts, but you cut him off before he can unravel any further.
"Stop this." Your tone hardens, more defensive than you intend, but it’s the only way to protect yourself. "Don’t talk to me again, Beomgyu. Don’t seek me out. If you’re just… grateful for what happened, fine. I’ll accept that. And if you feel guilty about it?" Your voice cracks slightly, but you push through, "Then maybe… maybe you can pay me back someday. In the future."
Beomgyu’s lips trembled as he fought for his next words, his hands shaking. “Then tell me. Tell me, straight to my face, looking in my eyes, that you didn’t feel anything. That you don’t feel anything for me. That you’ll never like me, no matter what I do. Even if I…” His voice broke, a tear slipping down his cheek. “Even if I die trying.”
Everything you’ve held back finally spill over, and your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. "Dumbass."
“You can’t,” he said softly, eyes tracing the fall of your tears.
“What are—”
"I think I'm in love with you," he says, voice breaking on his confession. "I'm in love with you that I wonder how the hell I lived without you all these years. I’m so glad I met you, did you know that? If I’d known, I’d have counted down the days—even marked my calendar stupidly—just to know you were waiting for me at the end of it. And if I had a choice to go back in time, to stop this apocalypse before it happened, I wouldn’t do a damn thing. Because I’d lose the chance to meet you. Here. As insane as it sounds," His voice shakes, but he pushes on, "I won’t—I won’t force you…. to like me. That’s not what I want. But would it be selfish of me to ask you to stop acting like I'm not here? Like you don’t know me? I can’t…" He hiccups, shoulders shaking. "I just want to be part of your life, Y/N."
His words made you take a step forward, your hands trembling as you cup his tear-streaked face. He flinches at first, but then he melts into your touch, his breathing uneven. “I’m afraid,” you admitted, your voice breaking, freckles on his face evident with his face bare. “I’ll ruin you. I’ll ruin your life. I'm a fucking ruined person. Can’t you see that?”
"I see you more than you see yourself," His hands come up to cover yours, gripping them tightly as though letting go would mean losing you. "You're a fucking angel."
You sobbed at his words. Angel. The word echoed in your head, a word so unfamiliar. How could someone as shattered as you ever be called that? How could Beomgyu see anything but the cracks, the mess? How could someone this real—this kind—exist? Is he even real? A dream? Or is he just a figment of your imagination, conjured up in your darkest moments to give you false hope?
Your tears fall faster, and Beomgyu panics, own heart breaking at the sight of you crying. Gently, he lets go of your hands and slides his up your arms, his touch featherlight—moves slowly, as though afraid he might hurt you, tracing his way to your shoulders, then your neck, until his fingers cradle your face.
“Who would’ve guessed that you’re a crybaby too?” he whispered, his voice uneven but with affection. He steps closer, wrapping you in his arms, pulling your unstable form against his chest. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your sobs muffled against his warmth.
You feel it—all the longing, all the sleepless nights spent thinking about him. The ache of holding yourself back every time you see him from afar—waiting for you, searching for you. He holds you.
He holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. One hand caresses the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair, while the other keeps you pressed against him. He presses soft, baby kisses to the side of your head, whispering. "Y/N,"
You stepped back slightly from his embrace, but Beomgyu’s hands stayed on your face, his thumbs softly brushing against your skin. He smiled—how could a single expression hold so much, and somehow, make everything hurt a little less? You swallowed the lump in your throat. Maybe, just maybe, you could have this. Even if it was only for tonight.
You rose onto your tiptoes, and leaned in. Closing your eyes, you pressed your lips to his—a fleeting, tentative kiss that barely lasted a second. It was quick, and when you pulled back, you were met with his wide eyes staring down at you, stunned. He hadn’t even had time to close them.
For a moment, neither of you moved. His eyes half-closed, his hands tightened slightly on your face, and before you could say anything, he leaned down, pulling you back in.
This time, he kissed you. He tilted his head just enough to fit against you perfectly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. His grip on your face was firm, his tounge grazing your lips—a soft plea—asking for entrance. You let him in, letting him taste you as you tasted him.
Both of you pull back, breaths heavy. A delicate string of saliva still connects your lips, breaking as Beomgyu takes a step forward more, his eyes locked on yours, "I want you."
You nod, reaching for him, your fingers curling around his arm to pull him back into you. "We have to be quiet."
His hands find your waist, fingers dip beneath the hem of your shirt. He lifts it, the fabric brushing over your skin, exposing the softness and heat of your bare waist to his touch. His palms glide over your skin.
You found yourself on your back, on the softness of your mattress, his weight settled on top of you. Delicate and warm. His hand grasps your thigh and he hoist it up his waist. “Please kiss me.” He murmurs into your mouth.
Your tongue brushes his, and he squeezes your thigh. He returns it, seeking your bottom lip to lightly suck on it. Your hands are up his shirt and he starts tugging down your loose pants. He shakily runs a finger between your legs and you inhale sharply. He rubs you, the feel of you soft, so good. He spreads you apart and gently caresses your clit. And you’re so fucking wet. He can't help but give a light sensual pinch. "Beomgyu," you moan on his lips. Made his heart flutter.
Your breathing is harsher and he looks at your pretty face as he shoves his middle finger in you—touching you is enough for him. He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you don't doubt whatever this is. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore.
He fumbles with your remaining clothes, taking his time as if savouring every second. It’s slower than you expected—partly because he keeps grabbing your face, pulling you into deep, heated kisses that leave you breathless.
Your hands help him get out of his shirt, pulls it over his head—hair falling over his forehead prettily. He leans down and kisses you—hands grab your hair and roam your body, his mouth does the same. Your face, your neck, your shoulder blades. "You're beautiful,"
He kisses down your chest and you run your fingers through his now much longer hair. He licks your nipple and your breath hitched. He bites gently, then bites harder and your back arches—he suckles, then lick. He does it again and again, to your left and right, giving them enough attention. He hears you moan—smirks at your skin—and he keeps wanting to hear it.
He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine. His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you taste so sweet, could eat this all day," He groans, lapping up, sucks the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles. His dick is throbbing at the way you taste. Your hands pull his hair, and he feels you down on his chin. He was leaving no parts untouched by his warm mouth.
Going back to you, looking at your face, he bows his head. “Kiss me.”
You pull his head down and kiss him, he slides right in and you cry out. "Fuck, you're so tight," He kisses you while he trusts in and out, your moans muffled on his mouth. "You feel so good," Your nails on his back scrape and he thrusts, hard, and keeps himself all the way in and you squirm under him, feeling you coming close.
"More, gyu." You whine out, legs gripping his warm waist as you pull him closer. He did, trust becoming faster, hitting the spot that made you moan out his name. He repositions himself deeper inside you, pressing you into the mattress, his free hand reaching for your clit, rubs lightly. "M'close," Then you felt it, the warm fuzzy feeling—the rush, almost blinding—the warmth of his arms and the softness of his whispered name on your lips that brought tears to your eyes. His own cum mixing with yours.
He smiled down at you, his lips quirking in a soft, almost shy grin as he took in your fucked-out expression. “I love you,” he whispered. He can't help himself.
The faint sound of running water filled the room as he disappeared for a second, and you assumed he was cleaning himself up. When he returned, his pants sit low on his hips, his chest still bare, and in his hand, he holds a warm, damp cloth.
Your eyes follow him as he approaches, his eyes filled with so much love it made your chest ache. He kneels beside you, his touch was careful as he ran the cloth over your skin, wiping away, cleaning you up. He worked slowly, keeping one of his hand holding your own, focus entirely on you.
When he was done, he looked up at you with that same soft smile, his eyes searching yours. You feel your own lips curve in response, reaching out to touch his flushed cheeks, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. The simple touch makes his smile widen into a boyish grin. His grin burned into the back of your mind. He holds you. He holds your heart too.
I love you too.
The warm rays of the morning sun seeped through the thin walls of the tent, casting a golden glow over the room. Dust motes floated in the light, drifting toward the tangled mess of blankets wrapped around your body.
It was the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. A yawn slipped past your lips as you stretched your arms, rolling over to the other side.
You weren't alone.
Beomgyu.
He looked so peaceful when he slept, his features soft and unguarded. The sunlight kissed his skin, giving it a honeyed glow, and his hair fell messily over his forehead, looking impossibly touchable. The blanket on his side was pushed low, revealing that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His pale chest and neck were scattered with faint love bites—marks you had left there. His lips were slightly parted, and he looked so utterly…. serene, it made your chest swell.
You reached out, your fingers gently comb his hair. “Beomgyu,” you murmured softly.
"Hm?" He hummed.
You smiled, and he returned it—his smile lazy, but somehow brighter than the sunlight spilling into the room. “Hi, baby,” he greeted,
"It's morning,"
He groaned lightly, shifting closer to you. “I think… we should stay here,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and slow, as though speaking was too much effort. He moved until he was pressed against you, his head resting on your bare chest as he planted soft, sleepy kisses against your skin.
“I have things to do, you know,” you protested lightly, though you made no move to stop him. Instead, you let your arms encircle him, cradling his head. His hand slid beneath the blanket, settling on the small of your back, familiar against your bare skin.
“Wake up,” you poked his cheek with your finger.
He parted his lips and let out an exaggerated, snore that startled a laugh out of you. “Idiot,” you said, shaking your head, though the fondness in your tone betrayed you. “I’ll give you an hour. After that, Captain Joon is going to start looking for me.”
"Let him look," Beomgyu groaned, burying his face deeper into your chest like a stubborn child. “But why is he always looking for you?”
“Because he’s my captain, you twat,” you replied, pinching his cheeks. “And, oh yeah, he’s my father.”
“What!?” Beomgyu shot up, his eyes now wide open and his sleepiness completely forgotten.
“Well, my adoptive father," Beomgyu’s eyes softened instantly at the word adoptive. He didn’t press, but his silence, the slight tilt of his head, was an invitation to continue if you were ready.
“Yeah, so, uh…” You swallowed hard, your fingers fidgeting slightly. “My parents were both special forces soldiers. When they were on a mission—a spy operation—they… they didn’t make it back. I was five.”Hi hand found yours, his fingers squeezing gently.
“I was sent to an orphanage after that,” you continued, your voice steadier now. "I was there for a few years. Then, when I was ten, Captain Joon showed up out of nowhere. Turns out, he was my dad’s best friend. He adopted me. Took me in like I was his own.”
Beomgyu nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “How did you end up being a soldier?” he asked softly.
A bittersweet smile tugged at your lips. “I guess it was always in me,” you admitted. “Even as a kid. Captain Joon saw that too. I was… kind of wild. Always getting into trouble at school—detentions, fights. I couldn’t stand bullies, even when they weren’t targeting me. I’d step in, no matter the cost.” You paused, letting out a quiet laugh. “It got worse when I got older. One time, I was walking home, and this group of older boys jumped me. They were bigger, stronger… I didn’t stand a chance. Captain Joon saw what happened, and after that, he decided to put me somewhere I couldn’t get hurt like that anymore. He took me with him—in a military camp.”
Your fingers brushed the hem of the blanket, your voice growing quieter. “I officially became a soldier when I was seventeen. Got into the Black Berets a year later.”
Beomgyu traced the line of your jaw with his fingers, his gentle touch made the words come easier.
“The time you asked me how old I was when I started…” You hesitated, but his intertwined hands with yours encouraged you to continue. “I got rude because… that question was asked of me once before. By someone. He was bitten by the infected, and I—” Your voice cracked, “I ended up killing him.”
You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t bear the thought of seeing judgment—or worse, pity—staring back at you, but Beomgyu didn’t let you hide. His hands cupped your face, tilting it up until your eyes met his.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said, “He’s not suffering anymore.”
Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as you nodded. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your head to rest against his chest. No words were spoken. For minutes, you stayed like that, listening to the thump of his heart against yours, a language of its own.
"I should probably be more careful around Captain Joon,” Beomgyu said out of nowhere, trying to lighten the mood.
You laughed, arms around you holding you closer. When he noticed you staring at him, he tilted his head slightly, his expression playful. “What? Too handsome?”
“Pfft,” you snorted. “Androgynous.” He whined dramatically, leaning in to pepper your face with kisses. You tried to push him away, laughing as he chased your retreating lips.
“Who would’ve thought,” he murmured, “that I’d fall in love with the prettiest girl at the end of the world?”
The words brought heat to your cheeks, and you turned your face away to hide the blush. “Okay, that’s enough,” you said, slipping out of his hold and reaching for the first shirt you could find—it was his.
He sat up too, watching you pull his shirt over your body. The hem brushed your thighs, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He gathers your hair that had gotten caught under the shirt, his fingers brushing against your neck. "I need to shower, Beomgyu."
"Can I join you? You know, to save water," He immediately quips. You smirk, your eyes meeting his before you give him a subtle nod. That tiny gesture is all it takes for his heart to race, he’s sure you can hear it.
In fact, there was barely any washing done.
Beomgyu finally steps out of your tent, though it took more convincing from you than it probably should have.
You’re still inside, safe from the prying eyes. The sun is higher now, casting everything in a harsh light. He squints, adjusting to the brightness, and immediately spots a few soldiers milling about nearby.
His stomach drops. If any of them so much as glance his way, they’ll know exactly where he just came from. Your tent. The only woman’s tent in a unit of 25 soldiers.
He keeps his head down, heat creeping up his neck and to his ears as he feels the unseen stares. The scenario playing out like an idol dating scandal—and dispatch is about to break the story of his life.
Choi Beomgyu, caught sneaking out of her tent at sunrise, he imagines the headline, biting back a groan. He quickens his pace, muttering to himself, "I’m so dead."
"Hold up."
A firm hand clamped down on Beomgyu's shoulder, halting his little walk of shame. His eyes widened as he turned, meeting the sharp gaze of Do-hyun. The older soldier’s eyes flicked back toward your tent—just six steps behind him—then back to Beomgyu’s freshly washed hair.
"And here I was, starting to feel sorry for you," Do-hyun said with a smirk. Beomgyu barely had time to stammer out a response before the tent flap rustled, and you stepped out.
"Do-hyun," Beomgyu glanced at you briefly, but you didn't meet his eyes, locked on Do-hyun instead. "Let’s go, yeah?" you asked, a pointed glare following the words.
Do-hyun chuckled, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he stepped back, releasing Beomgyu. "Sure, sure," he said, his smirk softening into something less smug.
The two of you walked off, leaving Beomgyu standing there, you glance back at him, catching a glimpse of his warm, flustered expression. Do-hyun caught it, muttering, "You’ve got him wrapped around your… finger,"
You didn’t even break stride, your foot shot out, connecting with his shin. Do-hyun yelped, doubling over, he clutched his leg. "Ow! Damn it, I was kidding!"
Beomgyu finally exhales when his tent comes into view, relief flooding his chest. He thought he was in the clear—until he steps inside and sees his three brothers waiting for him.
"Where the fuck were you?" Beomgyu knows he’s not getting out of this easily. This is going to be a long talk.
Beomgyu tells them. Everything. He leaves out the more private details—of course, he does. Some things are just for him to know. He starts from the beginning, telling them, that he just… fell in love with you.
The room goes quiet for a beat before Soobin steps forward, wrapping him in a hug, his voice soft. "Our little Beomgyu’s growing up," he says, sniffing dramatically.
Taehyun follows with a few firms pats on Beomgyu’s back, his smile warm. Yeonjun, leaning casually against the tent post, grins and shakes his head. "You lucky bastard," he teases, but there’s nothing but happiness in his voice.
The four of them embrace, there's a gap in their circle—a place reserved for someone who isn’t there yet but will be soon.
The day passed with a warmth in your chest, fueled by stealing stares and fleeting touches from Beomgyu.
Lunch was a lively affair, shared with Do-hyun, Eun-woo, Beom-seok, Yeonjun, Soobin, and Taehyun. The meal was filled with teasing banter, laughter cutting through the usual hum of camp life. Eun-woo’s soft pats on Beomgyu’s back and Beom-seok’s subtle nods didn’t go unnoticed—they were quiet acknowledgments.
Now, you walk toward the largest tent with your three teammates by your side. Beomgyu’s heated kiss still burns on your lips, the warmth of it fresh, even though it happened only an hour ago. — Captain Joon has called an unexpected night meeting, one that made Beomgyu pout as he agrees to wait at your tent.
The four of you step inside and salute, standing at attention until the captain’s familiar command: "Sit down."
The scene is one you’ve known many times before. Yet, there are absences that can't be ignored. Ji-ho, reporting in via radio, assures that he’ll be here soon with Huening Kai. — And Seo-jun.
“A brand-new mission for us,” Captain Joon announces, his eyes with a glimmer of hope rarely seen these days. “Word is there’s a doctor working on the possibility of a cure. And since Jeonju camp is the most stable for now, he’ll need assistance. This is the most critical priority, and we’ll be the ones handling it.”
Murmurs ripple through the group, surprised with cautious optimism. A cure—it sounds almost too good to be true. You let out a slow breath of relief, the faintest ember of hope flickering in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, humanity has a chance this time.
“We’re leaving in a few,” Captain Joon continues, his voice firm. “No time to waste.”
When you reach your tent, Beomgyu is already seated, and waiting. The moment he sees you, he stands, and you stride toward him without wasting any second, pressing your lips to his in a kiss he immediately melts into, “Are you okay?” he asks softly when you pull away, hands finding your waist.
“Hmm.” You nod, leaning into his embrace, arms wrapping around him. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re leaving now. Mission came in.”
Beomgyu stiffens. “Right now?"
“Yes.”
“O-okay.” His voice falters, and he swallows hard.
“It might take a while,” you admit, your hands sliding up to cup his face as you look into his wide, searching eyes. “It’s pretty far out, and I—”
“Come back to me safely,” he interrupts, his hands cradle your face. His thumbs gently brush your cheeks. “You don’t have a choice.”
A small smile tugs at your lips. You nod, "I promise.” Reaching up, you unclasp your dog tag, holding it carefully in your hands before slipping it around his neck. His eyes never leave yours, he watches you secure the chain.
“I’ll see you soon,”
He holds you.
It’s been two days since you left, and Beomgyu sits at the table, pushing his food around more than eating it. His mind keeps drifting back to you. The weight of your necklace around his neck is comforting—but it reminds him you’re not here. He sighs.
“There's a car coming!” someone shouts from the outer courtyard. Beomgyu’s head snaps up, his heart skipping a beat. He’s out of his chair in an instant, sprinting toward the commotion, the rest of his members right on his heels. His breath comes fast, uneven, as he skids to a stop outside. His eyes widen, and for the first time in days, relief crashes over him.
“KAI!”
The four of them swarm the youngest member, nearly knocking him off his feet in their excitement. Kai’s laughter echoes through the courtyard as Soobin immediately bursts into tears, clinging to him like a lifeline. Beomgyu hugs him tightly, burying his face in his shoulder, while Yeonjun ruffles his hair affectionately. Taehyun, ever practical, starts inspecting Kai’s arms and legs for injuries.
Everything feels right. They’re together, whole. Now, he just needs you to get back here.
They fussed over Kai like he was the most fragile thing in the world, each of them trying to make up for lost time. Kai explained what happened—they had been trapped, which was why it took weeks to get here. But Ji-ho, just as you’d assured them before, had been capable. He’d taken care of Kai and somehow managed to get him back to them safely.
Later that night, Beomgyu was shuffling on his bed while Kai lounged comfortably nearby. It wasn’t long before the others would join them; Kai had pleaded for a sleepover with his brothers, saying he missed them too much to sleep alone. Of course, none of them could resist.
“Woah.” Kai says, and Beomgyu turned, pillow in hand, to see what had caught his attention. The younger was staring at the two Polaroids on Beomgyu’s bedside table, face lit with curiosity. “Is this real?”
“What, you think I Photoshopped them or something?” Beomgyu laughed, a little sheepishly. He paused, before adding, “I took those with her… on the way here.”
Kai’s eyes flicked back to him, curious. “You’re together?”
“Yeah.” Beomgyu’s lips tugged into a shy smile. “She’s my girlfriend now.”
Kai’s grin was blinding, his low ponytail framed his face as he leaned closer to get another look at the photos. “She’s pretty. I’m really happy for you, Beomgyu.”
You step through the gates of Jeonju camp, your body aching. It’s been a month since you last saw this place—since you last saw him.
Your clothes are filthy, smeared with dirt and the blood of infected, but none of that matters now. The Doctor is alive, the cure is nearly complete, and your mission is done. You made it.
And then you see him.
Beomgyu is already running toward you, his eyes wide and filled with something that looks like disbelief, like awe, love. You can’t stop the smile that breaks across your face, even as your legs wobble beneath you. You start running too, stumbling at first, but your body pushes through the pain, the rest of the world blurring into nothing.
When you reach him, he doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around you tightly, lifting you off the ground. He holds you close. You cling to him, shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline and the overwhelming relief of being home—of being with him.
Everyone stops to watch. In a world so cruel, so damned, there’s something warm in the way two lovers find each other again.
A reminder to believe there’s still something worth fighting for.
"See you soon, and take care of yourself," Soobin leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod, offering a small smile. "You too."
His lips curve into that familiar, reassuring smile as he hoists his backpack over his shoulder. "Y/N, stay safe," Taehyun says, stepping in to wrap you in a firm hug. You nod on his shoulders.
"Let’s have ramyeon soon, yeah?" Yeonjun chimes in, his usual playful grin lighting up his face. Without waiting for a reply, he grabs your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your forehead, mirroring Soobin. "I’ll cook for you," he adds confidently, pulling back but keeping his hands on your cheeks.
You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. "Okay, Mr. Married to Ramyeon." He laughs too, giving your cheeks a playful pat before turning to follow Soobin and Taehyun onto the bus.
For a moment, you just stand there, watching the three of them board.
You turn to see Kai looking down at you, his expression shy. He pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with surprising strength. "I’ll miss you," he sings softly.
It’s been three months since the doctor arrived at Jeonju camp with you. A month later he was in, and the cure was complete. Those who received the shot stopped being targeted by the infected—it was as if the vaccine turned them invisible. No more running, no more hiding.
After countless tests and trial runs, the results were undeniable: 100% effective. The world is still far from healed. There’s so much to rebuild, so much left to do. But this vaccine—it’s a start.
And now, Hybe is taking them back. Back to the world they belong to. Back to the life they’d almost forgotten was possible.
A warm hand slips into yours, and you glance up to meet Beomgyu’s glassy stare. Your eyes flicker to his neck—your dog tags still hang there, glinting in the light. He holds your hands and lifts them to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to your palms without breaking eye contact.
“I promise to come back to you as soon as I can, okay?” he whispers, "I promise."
You know the truth. You’ll never see him again. This is it.
You already have your orders—a mission overseas to distribute the cure, to spread it where it’s needed most. You don’t know when you’ll be back. Or if you’ll be back. The world finally has a chance, but your worlds were never meant to stay intertwined.
“Okay,” you say softly, forcing a small smile onto your lips. You’ll never wake up to the sound of his soft breaths against your skin again. You’ll never walk through the Daegu home he often described with so much warmth, never see the place where his happiest memories were made. A place he wants to go with you.
He’s an idol—a star shining too brightly for someone like you. A celebrity adored by millions. And you’re a soldier, bound by duty to serve your country. He deserves someone gentle, maybe an idol like him, or someone who fits seamlessly into his world. Someone who isn’t constantly called away to fight battles in far-off places.
It made you happy while it lasted.
This dream—this borrowed time you had.
“I love you,” he says suddenly,, and then he’s kissing you. Once, twice—then a third time, slower. He kisses the tip of your nose, and you smile through the tears that blur your vision. You stare at him, taking in everything—the curve of his lips, the softness in his eyes, the way his hair falls... across his forehead. You try to commit it all to memory. “I love you so much,” he says, voice trembling as he cups your face.
“I love you too,”
YEAR 2030
You find yourself in the kitchen, humming softly as the news plays in the background. The aroma of spices and fresh herbs fills the space. You chop vegetables for tonight’s dinner, the rhythm of the task bringing you peace. You always find yourself great with knives, you suppose.
A smile spreads across your face as you feel it—a pair of hands, warm, gently caressing your stomach. A body presses against your back, and a soft breath grazes the curve of your neck. The scent of him surrounds you, and you don’t need to turn around to know who it is.
When you do turn, you’re met with his smile—the one that lights up his entire face, even as exhaustion lingers in his eyes. He looks like he just got home, probably rushing straight from practice, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. Without a word, he drops to one knee, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his cheek against your growing belly.
“I missed the both of you,” he whispers, voice soft and full of love.
You laugh, your hand moving to his hair, your fingers combing through the soft freshly bleached blonde strands. “I don’t think they can hear you yet, Gyu,” you tease gently, your smile tender. “I’m only five months along.”
He tilts his head up to look at you, his lips forming a playful pout that makes you giggle like you’re both still teenagers. Standing, he cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, wedding band catches the light, whispering of the life you’ve built together. The life you thought was impossible. But he made it—he made it possible.
If he wanted to—he would.
“I don’t care,” he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. Then your nose. And finally, your lips. His scent, his warmth, the way his heart beats against yours—he's home.
He holds you.
The only sound is the exchanged kisses and the faint murmur of the news on the television.
Following the record-breaking success of TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s latest comeback, member Beomgyu has surprised fans worldwide by releasing his first solo album, The Last Safe Place. The album, deeply supported by MOAs, has already sparked widespread buzz—not only for its musical brilliance but also for the heartfelt inspiration behind it: Beomgyu’s recent marriage.
“This album is a love letter, a reflection of the most meaningful chapter in my life,” Beomgyu shared. “It’s inspired by the warmth, comfort, and love I’ve found in my marriage. I wanted to capture the feeling of having someone to come home to—a place where your heart feels at peace, no matter what chaos the world throws at you.”
THE END.
#the last safe place#txt#beomgyu#txt post#txt x reader#tubatu#tomorrow x together#txt smut#beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x you#beomgyu txt#choi beomgyu#txt beomgyu
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in the quiet spaces between you and i
simon 'ghost' riley
tags: smut & fluff, sleepy morning sex, tender & loving, established relationship, simon is smitten by you,
rain hit harshly against the window of your bedroom. you exhaled deeply as you slowly opened your eyes. it was one of those days, you knew it was going to be raining all week. but, you didn't expect it to pour.
it was a sham because you had been having quite a sunny spell in the city. but for now, the grey skies and heavy patter of rain made you seek refuge in the arms of your much larger lover. simon. the ghost as he was known in service, but in the quiet flat you both shared. he was just simon, or si, or honey. hell, even one of the million other nicknames you had for him.
you opened your eyes a little wider and yawned loudly. simon slung an arm over your middle and you pressed your face against his built chest. you admired how strong he was. he had arms that could choke someone out and thighs that could crack a coconut. but nestled in the sanctuary of your bed. he was as gentle as a lamb. one who easily leaned into your kisses with a half-asleep smile. your short nails lightly dragged down the side of his jaw, feeling the stubble against your digits. you leaned in and kissed him tenderly, with such love.
simon was a catch, he could be terrifyingly intimidating. but, those brown eyes only grew soft when they were gazing at you. always protective. but not patronizing. he knew you inside and out, that came from years in the military. he studied you, but not the way a scientist would a bug. but, rather a man trying his best to be the partner you deserved. and if being the best meant carrying an extra umbrella in his bag because you had a habit of forgetting yours then so be it.
"love." he said in a quiet voice, "whatcha lookin' at? got drool on my face or somethin'?" his voice was like a bear growl, a rumble that made you smile. you kissed him again and his eyes remained shut as he enjoyed your kiss.
"shh, shh." you cooed when you pulled away from the kiss, "just admiring you." you giggled softly.
he smiled a little, "nothin' to admire. like lookin' at a garbage heap." he tightened his grip around you and hoisted you up onto his waist as he laid on his back. his brown eyes a little more open as he admired you with a dream-like gaze, "you on the other hand." he smiled a little more, "lookin' at you is like lookin' at art. kinda wish i could nail ya up against the wall too." then placed his hands on your hips. your softness felt nice in his rough hands.
hands that could kill and maim. he was like a wild animal, he would tear through what he could in order for some primal driven ideal of peace. instead he held the fat of your hips with such a devotion, like you were going to slip through his fingers at any moment. but you'd never leave, not with the life you built together. simon really felt like a ghost before he met you. home had no roots until you slowly planted them in the cracks of his soul.
bland food was replaced with home recipes, a single pair of work boots were replaced with many pairs of shoes along with a closet near bursting with clothes, blank walls were panted over in brighter colours and decorated with photos. simon hated having his photo taken, but he'd do it for you.
his hands trailed up and down your sides, he pushed up the large black tshirt you wore. he exposed the boxers you wore (and stole) underneath. you liked to sleep in his clothes, it made you feel closer to him. as if you weren't buried under his arm almost every night. his eyes went a little wider when you peeled the shirt off and exposed your beautiful breasts to him.
his eyes quickly darted to your face as he asked, "do.. do you want this? you can stop if you want." he never wanted to force you into any act of sexual activity. he may have his urges, but he would never force you into anything.
you nodded softly, "si, i always want you. wanting you is like wanting air, or water or cheap kebab. i can taste it on my tongue when i think about it too hard." then pulled at the waistband of the underwear you wore. simon's gaze was on you as you stripped down and when he broke himself out of his trance, he stripped down as well.
you ended up on his waist once more. his hard cock up against your soft stomach. you licked your lips. you asked him, "do you want this? are you comfortable?"
simon nodded. consent was a two-way street. it took at least two to tango this way, both parties had to be happy, even if a little sleepy. he held onto you and guided you onto his cock. he tensed up and said, "yes, yes. that's it. oh, fuck." he swallowed as you easily took him. he wasn't small by any means, but careful movements got you seated on him like it was your personal throne.
you asked, "do you like that?" the rain continued to batter against the window. but you two were dry and warm in each other's embrace. you knew today would be a lazy day in bed. maybe simon had to check a few work emails, and maybe you'd get leftovers out of the fridge for dinner. but with the weather outside, you'd be rather cozy curled up in your flat.
simon took your hands and placed them on the expanse of his chest. you could feel the tawny-blond short hairs under your finger tips. you could feel the leap in his heartbeat and you smiled softly at him. he smiled softly at you. he once said he didn't smile as much in the previous thirty years of his life compared to the two years he had known you. it was hard not to smile when it felt like the sun itself was beaming at him at all times.
he moaned a little, "yeah, sunshine. you're doin' amazin'." his expression was still a little sleepy as you moved against him. the sex was slow, but lined with passion. you always held passion for one another, a flickering flame in your heart that you carried with you. and in moments of quiet intimacy, the pair of flames met. kissed and fluttered in each other's company. you loved simon, you loved him in a way that felt like it came from a storybook. even in the hard times.
the days apart, hell, the months apart. simon's ability to emotionally close off and your ability to feel nothing but a cold of anxiety through you. but in moments of weakness you built up one another, and it bloomed into the life long intimacy you both shared. the love that went deeper than waves of the ocean.
you leaned down and kissed simon on the lips as you moved against him. you felt your love for him wrapped up in a sexual fever that climbed from your core up to your brain. it left sparks in your blood as you planted your hands firmly on his chest. your hips rolled slowly and the kiss only deepened.
he groaned against you. this was heaven. simon once believed that he had died on the battlefield and somehow weaseled his way to heaven. there he met an angel, you. and you loved him and stitched back a broken man. piece by piece. he said close to your lips, "i love you."
and you replied with no uncertain terms, "and i love you, simon riley." his name on your lips sounded like gospel. it excited him just as much as it scared him. he held onto you a little tighter and let you move against him. the pleasure coursed through both of you, the heightened heat would only lead to a orgasmic high that would make your toes curl.
it was a mutual goal as you continued to move against him. heated breaths in a quiet bedroom. outside was gloomy and cold. but the sparks of light made the room you shared inviting and comforting. this was the man of your dreams.
scarred, tattooed, many times beats and many more times broken. but wasn't that love? to pick up the pieces of another, shake them it in their face and demand that they allow themselves to be loved?
that was all you could give simon. your love, your loyalty and a future.
the two of you kissed while pleasure coursed through the both of you. your pace staggered as the want made your heart race. it felt amazing, it always did. being intimate, soft, loving. to be held by your beloved simon as you rocked against him. there were no expectations, you could not cum and you'd still feel happy. to feel loved, oh to feel loved by simon, that was worth more than orgasm after orgasm.
he groaned when you parted the kiss. he held onto you a little tighter and exhaled deeply as the pleasure properly washed over him. he said through tense words, "i'm close. baby, i'm close."
and you worked yourself harder on him. the sex between you two was electric and you felt the urge to finish come over you. you let out a sweet moan, like dessert wine. it left simon drunk off as feeling. as you came, he came as well. he leaned forward to bury his face in your soft torso as you continued to ride him through both of your climaxes.
your voice was tense as you said you loved him once more. you never said those words without meaning them. you were everything to him and he in turn was everything to you. when your pace slowed, he pulled you back down with him onto the bed.
he smothered you in his love as he feverishly kissed you in the hot after glow of sex. while it wasn't the most extreme form of love making you felt soft and warm. you felt the love in love making. simon's kisses were silent prayers to his angel as he held you close in his strong arms.
you giggled against his lips before you pulled away and held his face lovingly. you felt heat in your face and could see the heat in his. you smiled, the kind of loopy, happy smile that lovers had. he kissed you once more before you managed to get the covers over you once more.
the clothes could wait, as could breakfast. because while you had pancakes on the brain, your lover's kisses were more filling. <3
#bunny writes#ghost call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty smut#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#call of duty x y/n#call of duty x female reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#ghost smut#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader
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dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info
dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.
dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.
dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.
dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.
dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.
dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”
dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.
dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.
dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.
dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.
dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.
dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.
dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.
dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.
dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”
simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob
˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.
the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.
#simon ghost riley#cod mwii#cod mw2#cod mw fanfiction#simon riley#ghost mw2#cod mw2 x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley fanfic#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley headcanons#dad!simon#cod ghost#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley headcanons
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FUCK ME LIKE THE MEN BETWEEN THOSE PAGES
Bottom John Price x Top Male Reader
Just Price brain rot🤤 I've always wanted to a model for MLM porn sites ngl so I'm living through this fic🙏 As usual not proofread :)
FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI
Prices would be one of those faceless models for those erotic gay romance novels. All his work would be faceless. Just something he did to make money on the side.
It was a secret that was long forgotten. Memories replaced by his military service. His body more scarred than his younger self's. His own books but they were just collecting dust in a box.
When you got together, you had found one of the books Price had forgotten that was on a shelf. Your eyes grew wide as you noiced it was Price's shirtless body on the front cover. A small mole on his left hip was telltale that it was him.
Flipping the book over and reading the synopsis reveals the dirty content of it. All the colour washes from Price's face as he sees what you have in your hand.
Price was about to open his mouth to quickly deny it but saw your giddy excitement. Though Price felt a bit shameful, he told you that there was more. A lot more.
With much hesitation from him and a whole lot more convincing from you, Price lent you the books. His amazing body on every single one of them. A new scar here and there as the
He had been surprised that you never poked fun at him and that you were genuinely interested in his past works.
You'd admit that the sex scenes depicted were the main thing that got you interested. You'd imagine Price vividly as the characters he model on the front covers. It didn't take long for you to read through the lot of them.
When Price would be on deployment, he'd get a text from you.
Cum on the front cover or on the pages. Or others with your erect cock slotted like a bookmark between the pages with the dirtiest scenes, precum dripping onto the sheets.
You'd send worded texts underneath the photo like "Try these with me?" or "What if were we the ones to do this?"
Price hated himself for showing you the books right before the mission, making the wait painfully long.
Sexualy frustrated and slightly pissed he had to wait for his deployment to end, Price would have a lonely wank in his barracks. His fingers didn't feel right. His fantasies never felt like details in the books. Nothing felt like you.
Once he got back, Price had to fight back a boner as the anticipation took over him. He went through countless cigars trying to get his mind on something else. The 141 Boys knew something was up. Soap had to control the intrusive thoughts to ask if you were waiting naked when Price returned home.
Which he wasn't wrong. The moment Price came through that door he was already painfully hard. Before he could even open his mouth to greet you, you were on him like a fly to honey, attacking his neck with bruising kisses. Whispering the dirty dialog from one of the books made Price weak in the knees.
Thus was the beginning of your roleplay sex.
Your playtime is always different. Numerous scenarios with one thing in common: Mind blowing sex.
Price would play a royal guard, and you, the prince. A prince in a loveless engagement to a princess. A guard pleading loyalty as he rides the prince on the royal throne.
A grade slipping college student fucking his teacher in an empty classroom for extra credit. Blowjows underneath desks replaces the outdated method of study and paying attention to lectures.
A hunter who falls in love with a werewolf he's supposed to kill. The wolf is just a dumb puppy who needs to be told what to do. With a collar around his neck, ready to be tugged at and the willingness to please his master, puppy soon becomes skilled at lapping at master's hole.
A rowdy rockstar and his stressed out manager. The musician needing to burn off the adrenaline after the show and the poor management needing the stress fucked out of him. The real show was played backstage. The manager put on quite the proformance, his deep moans sounded much better than your singing.
A sex therapist that prefers to take on a more hands-on approach. That skilled tongue was used more than just giving advice.
Or lastly, a priest beguiled by a gorgeous sinner. Guilt was all he felt but it felt like true heaven. God would forgive any sin if he showed true repentance, right? Wouldn't Jesus have died for nothing if we didn't sin?
Sure, some where terrible written and some were written by women with a fetish for gay men. Seeing you act out the scenes without missing a beat or breaking out into laughter while you quoted the dirtiest and most ridiculous things.
You'd remember every dirty word uttered. Every scenario memorized. Price was starting to understand what those white women on TikTok saw in those fucking books. It was just too bad they couldn't live it out like he could.
#call of duty x male reader#call of duty x reader#x reader#x male reader#john price x reader#john price x male reader#sub character#dom male reader#dom reader#cod x male reader#cod x reader#call of duty mw2#call of duty mw3#☆*charlie writes
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“Welcome home.” Dog hybrid task force x human!reader
Warnings: SFW (I am a minor), fluff, blood, language (cussing), mentions of animal abuse/violence (I do not condone), reader is gender neutral
Context: The task force was forced to be relived of duty early after killing and mauling into their handler who they mistaken their handler’s scent for someone else during a long and hard mission. This was the perfect excuse for General Shepard to finally be rid of the task force. Lasswell did all she could, but to no avail. The best Lasswell could do was give the task force the best loving home for them and that’s where you came in. You’ve been looking for someone to help you out with the farm after your parents passed away. Hybrid or not, you weren’t picky. Lasswell looked through some possible homes and that’s when she saw you. She did interview you ahead of time before informing the boys and to your surprise she loved you. Now all you had to do was pick up the boys from the airport and drive them home.
You waited by the car. It was around 5pm as you leaned on your pickup truck out front of the airport. You weren’t use to public places, you always kept to yourself on the farm. You couldn’t help but lower your hat to hide your face as city folk stared and gawked at you. You were beautiful (Or handsome). Some tried to approach you to get a better look at your pretty face under the hat but they were quickly scared off by the approaching military men. The task force all had muzzles over their mouths, shock collars digging into their poor raw necks as they were being escorted by two big military men. Soap snarled as he was shoved around by the military men. Gaz kept his ears flat against his head as he quietly growled to himself, muttering curses under his breath. Ghost kept silent the whole time, refusing to make eye contact with anyone after what happened. After what they did. Price was the first to greet you, he held his hand out for a handshake.
“You must be Y/N, pleasure to finally be meeting you-“ Price got cut off by being shocked by his collar, having to jerk his hand away and keep quiet. Snarling under his breath knowing he spoke out of turn. You flinch when he slightly jolted from the shock. You’ve never seen hybrids treated so cruel before. You wanted to say something about that but one of the military men interrupted you, handing you a small remote to the shock collars.
“If they ever step even an inch out of line, give them a flash warning before shocking them. Up the voltage if you need to.” The military man on the right said before the left spoke up.
“Don’t hesitate to call us if things go south, this is a lot to handle and we appreciate your service for this.” The left said with a nod, shoving Soap forward to keep him from trying to run off.
“Agh-i'll rip yer arm aff if ye huv a go tae push me again!” Soap snarled, his fangs bared and visible through the muzzle before Ghost elbows Soap to cut it out.
“English Johnny…” Ghost whispers. Soap lets out a huff, narrowing his eyes at the military men. You went over to the back of your pickup truck, lowering the trunk down and gesturing for the task force to sit back in the trunk. Soap was the first to get into the trunk, to him anything was better than being with those two military men. Soap was followed by Gaz then Ghost and finally Price. Price couldn’t help but give you a weary glance as if it was a silent warning. You close the trunk behind Price before heading over to the driver’s seat and starting the pickup truck. Ghost watched your every movement with cold eyes before you shut the door, leaving the four to talk amongst themselves. The boys were silent for a moment as the truck starts making its way out of the parking lot. Soap finally broke the silence.
“Well, that was quite the welcome wagon.” He said sarcastically.
“Aye.” Gaz nods in agreement, trying to soothe his sore neck from the shock collar. “How much you lot wanna bet that farmer is gonna put us to work once we get there?”
“There’s nothing to bet.” Ghost said with a hint of a growl in his voice, his arms crossed and shoulders tensed as he tried to memorize the roads and streets you were driving on. He was already thinking up an escape plan just in case. Price glanced at Ghost and could tell what Ghost was plotting, but he was more focused on you. He was studying your face, your body language, your actions. Price damm well wasn’t just going to just let anyone house him and his team let alone a lone farmer that’s able shock them with a click of a button and take them away to somewhere much worse with just a phone call. This all had him on edge his thoughts were short lived when he suddenly felt his arm jolt. The pain of the shock still seemed to be lingering on his muscles-causing them to randomly spasm. Gaz immediately takes notice of this and puts a hand on Price’s arm.
“You alright cap?” Gaz asks, concern clearly on his face along with Soap and Ghost. “I’m fine.” Price brushed Gaz off his arm.
“Are you in any pain?”
“Always.” Price replied with a bitter chuckle which managed to ease some of the tension, but Price could tell they were still worried. After a moment of silence, Soap speaks up again.
”What do you think they’re like?”
“Who?” Gaz asks with a brow raised.
“The farmer.” Soap said with a scoff.
“Seems spineless to me.” Ghost muttered, adjusting his balaclava and letting out a huff before getting elbowed by Price. Ghost was about to protest when the truck suddenly comes to a stop. The truck slowly turns onto a long dirt road, leading up to a surprising small house on top of the hill with a large barn behind it. The boys couldn’t help but stare in awe of the house’s cottage-like atmosphere. The house was over run with plants but the plants weren’t wild or unkept, they were organized and grew on their own sides of the house. Most of the plants were flowers, berries, and some ivy here and there. It was beautiful, too beautiful. The sun was already setting behind the barn casting a shadow across the fields that was surprisingly calming. The night was already alive. Crickets and frogs were singing. Fireflies danced around the tall grass. Before the task force could even fathom how they managed to end up in a place like this, the engine to the truck turns off as you get out of the truck. You take your keys out and stuff them in your pocket as you open the trunk for the others. The task force slowly gets out, one by one giving each other confused looks as you walk over to them.
“Where the hell have you taken us-urk!” Soap was cut off by you suddenly grabbing his neck, the task force immediately rushed over to protect Soap. Soap himself about to grab onto you and throw you off of him when there was a sudden snap.
Soap’s shock collar fell to the ground with a thud. Soap immediately went to feel his neck-only to be met with raw skin rather than cold metal. Soap’s breath hitched as he felt around his neck. The others stared at Soap wide eyed before looking back to you as for the first time since they met you, you spoke.
“Welcome home.”
#cod#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#captain john price#task force 141#kyle gaz garrick#call of duty#gaz x reader#price x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#hybrid au#call of duty fanfic#cod x reader#reader inserts
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I love the idea of Gaz and Soap being the poster children for the SAS
Task Force 141 is a secret, but not so secret that the brass waste the opportunity to plaster Gaz (the current record-holder for highest test scores) and Soap (the youngest candidate to pass selection) across every piece of recruitment material they can
Price tries to put his foot down on most of it, but he can’t stop all of it; happy brass means more leniency when the 141 edges a little too close to war crimes territory
So at least one weekend every year, Gaz and Soap get geared up and run through every training course Credenhill has to offer about forty-seven times each with three or four cameras pointed at them at all times. It’s exhausting and infuriating, especially when the directors aren’t happy with the footage (because, surprise of all fucking surprises, real military training doesn’t look anything like it does in the movies) but they both try to enjoy the chance to show off
And it’s a spectacle. Almost everyone on base comes to watch the two most decorated sergeants in the SAS get put through their paces. Price and Ghost watch with varying levels of concealed price. Rookies line the edge of the courses, their eyes glued to the pride and joy of the SAS, who inspired most of them to join up in the first place
And then, the weekend passes and it’s suddenly all over. The camera crews disappear, the directors shake their hands and thank them for their service, and the base returns to normal until next year. But if Ghost gets the first copy of the promo video, before even some of the higher level brass do, that’s between him and the director, who really didn’t even take that much convincing
#call of duty#cod#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#john price#ghoap#ghostsoap#soapghost#tombstone's epitaphs
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Sweet | ksj
☆request:
Congratulations on the milestone ! Can we get a Drabble of idol Jin coming back from the military and trying to sort out his situationship with the girl he left behind when he went into the military?
☆pairings: idol!Seokjin x female!reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)
☆genre: idol!au, a bit of angst, fluff and smut
☆warnings: unedited, cursing, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, protected sex (with mentions of unprotected sex), big dick!Jin
☆word count: 3.5k
☆a/n: i did not expect to write smut in this but here we are haha i hope you guys like this one! i had a lot of fun writing it <3
☆☆☆☆☆
It's so sweet, knowing that you love me Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair It's so sweet
Sweet - Cigarettes After Sex
☆☆☆☆☆
Seokjin hasn’t seen you in ages, his military service whisking him away from…
From whatever his relationship with you was. Not quite a relationship, but more than friendship, Seokjin thinks he was too immature a year and a half ago to understand you. But when you sent him a message two days ago to congratulate him for finishing his service, he figured he should see you.
If only so that he can give you the closure he never gave you. Because he practically ghosted you when he started his service, not replying to your messages after his obligatory training where he couldn’t touch his phone anyway.
He felt bad. Horrible even, but the distance seemed necessary after the words you last exchanged.
After you all but confessed your love for him.
It was too much too soon, or maybe he truly was just immature then. Because today, as his car is eating the miles to your apartment, he thinks maybe he was wrong. The heaviness in his chest makes it feel so, as does the rain battering his windshield.
Seokjin parks outside on the street in front of your building, glancing up to see the lights are on in your apartment. His hands turn clammy, and he rubs them on his jeans in a failed attempt to dry them.
It doesn’t work, because the second you’re buzzing him in, they become clammy again and he’s too anxious to even think about drying them again. The anxiety only keeps increasing as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, worrying at some skin on his bottom lip, and it reaches a never-seen-before high as he stops in front of your door.
He takes a deep breath to ease his nerves, thinking about the many times he was here before. That night after your first date - a blind date his friend set up for him - when you told him to come home with him.
He should have known then that it was setting your story in a way that wouldn’t end well for you, to go home with you that night.
Seokjin raises his fist, and he thinks his hand is shaking. He ignores it, pretends he’s as confident as always, and he knocks three times, lowering his hand as he waits for you to open. It doesn’t take you long - he wouldn’t be surprised if you were waiting on the other side of the door.
You’re… beautiful. You were back then, but the months apart have done you good, and Seokjin’s throat dries as he just looks at you, his lips parting on a silent vowel. You just stand there, shining like an angel as a small, shy smile lights your features, your eyes crinkling at the corners.
Seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Has never believed it, and though today may not be his first sight of you, it surely renders him speechless, his brain emptying until there’s just you.
“Hey,” you greet him, your voice like a melody conjured from a dream.
“Y/n,” he answers, and your name feels right, righter than anything before.
Your smile widens, and you step aside to let him in. He walks in, fully aware of how close your bodies are as you shut the door, but then you move back and he immediately misses your proximity.
What is wrong with him?
“How have you been?” you ask.
“Good,” he replies, swallowing. “Better now.”
He means the words. He means them more than he’s ever meant anything in his life, and he thinks you catch the meaning behind his sentence. Because blush creeps on your cheeks, and your gaze drops to the floor.
“What about you?” he quickly adds, not wanting you to feel embarrassed.
“I’m… good,” you answer, and you let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
You’re direct. It’s something he’s always thought was admirable about you, but the revelation hurts, sending a pang through his chest.
“Y/n…” he trails off.
“But you’re here now,” you say, and your smile turns pained, sad.
How many sleepless nights has he caused you?
“I am,” he says, voice small. “I’m sorry.”
“I get it.” You shrug your shoulders. “You were busy with your service, it’s not like it was easy to maintain a…” You never finish the sentence, even though Seokjin waits patiently for you to say it.
For you to acknowledge that it was just a situationship, that maybe you both just played each other.
“I really am sorry, though,” Seokjin insists, looking down at his shoes. “You did not deserve that.”
You nod once, your gaze trailing to the side. “Then, can I ask… Why did you want to see me?”
His heart stops in his chest. He’s still struck by the sight of you, barely unable to form coherent sentences, but you deserve an explanation.
You deserve closure, if that’s what you want.
“I thought…” he trails off, wets his lips before continuing, “I thought you deserved closure.”
You take a deep breath. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”
He thinks you’re dismissing him. It feels like you are, like you’re telling him to leave, but he just stands there, drinking your features in.
Choking on the hurt he knows he’s caused.
“I really apologize, Y/n,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “You did not deserve the radio silence. I… I kind of thought it would be better for you, that you deserved better than being stuck with someone that was going to be gone for months.”
“You could have just said so…” you point out.
Seokjin sighs, his gaze dropping to the ground in shame. “I know. I was stupid, and I was immature too. Which is bad considering I’m in my thirties now but… yeah. I’m really sorry.”
You don’t say anything for a time, the silence getting heavier with every second passed. Seokjin meets your gaze, and he wonders if you can tell how guilty he’s been feeling. He thinks you might, because you wet your lips, glancing to the side, and then you say, “You came all the way here to say this?”
He nods. “You deserved better than a text message. When you texted me two days ago, it reminded me of all the good times we’ve spent together.” The truth comes to the surface, and Seokjin whispers it, afraid he’s going to scare you away. “I’ve missed you, Y/n.”
The world must have stopped turning. Time must have stopped, because you just stand there unblinkingly. He’s not sure you’re even breathing. But then slowly, like the first sun rays in the morning, a smile spreads on your lips.
You’re beautiful, too beautiful, and Seokjin can’t believe he got scared last year. He doesn’t think there’s anything scary about the woman standing in front of him.
“And you think I’ll just forgive you like this?” you ask even though you’re smiling.
It’s like a stab to the chest. His heart aches, and Seokjin doesn’t know what to reply. He’s aware he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he wanted to give you his truth.
“I don’t think I deserve it, honestly,” he says. He gulps around a sudden lump in his throat, glancing around your apartment if only so that he can commit it to memory. “But I have missed you. I’ve felt guilty about it for months, but didn’t know how to approach you. Didn’t think you’d want me texting you out of the blue. I just… When you reached out, I just couldn’t let you go without at least having apologized.”
You nod, leaning against the wall as if your legs can’t support you anymore. “Thank you for apologizing.”
He reckons he’s losing you. Not that he really had you to begin with, but Seokjin thinks he’s losing you, and it hurts more than he ever thought it would.
“Of course.”
There’s another silence of lingering heaviness, and then you nod your head. Push up from the wall and walk in your apartment, sitting down on the couch. You offer him a small smile, patting the spot next to you.
“Come in,” you tell him. “Let’s catch up.”
He widens his gaze, not really believing what you just said. But then again, he knows you’re a forgiving person - he’ll make sure you don’t regret your decision.
And he doesn’t think you do. No, you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting, with you telling him all about your work and that annoying coworker that used to get on your nerves last year too. It’s easy, filled with smiles and laughs and reminiscing, and when you invite him for dinner, Seokjin decides to cook for you.
He doesn’t want you to lift a single finger for him, not when he wants to make it up to you. And he thinks he does, to a certain extent. You’re beaming by the time you’ve finished eating, telling him that you missed his food the most, and Seokjin complains that you only like him for his food. You just laugh it off, and then tell him that he’ll have to cook a thousand more meals for you.
Call him crazy, but he knows he will. He’ll cook every meal for you if that means he gets a chance with you again. One that he promises to himself that he won’t fuck up. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t make a move tonight - he tries to respect you, to respect the fact that you might need a bit of distance from him before you want to be with him like that again.
He thinks it was the right decision. He thinks it was worth the weeks of waiting before you kissed him for the first time again, in a different setting this time. At his own apartment, after you’ve had his Jajjangmyeon. You kiss softly, by the door, and Seokjin wonders if you can hear the wild beats of his heart in his chest.
You have to. Because you lay a hand on his chest right above his heart as you pull away from the kiss. You’re smiling, your cheeks slightly flushed as you look between his two eyes. And then you say, “I want you tonight.”
Seokjin doesn’t need to hear more. He cups your cheeks, stealing a languid kiss on your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers brush the strands of hair at the back of his head, and then you tug on them a little.
He grunts, pushing you back towards the door. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing your heat dangerously close to his dick. He’s already getting hard, blood shooting down from his heart to his cock, and he grinds into you, swallowing the soft moan you let out.
A second later, you tease his bottom lip with your tongue, and Seokjin lets you in, getting drunk to the taste of you. He’s so high with the taste of you that his mind is elsewhere - he doesn’t know how you make it to his bed. All he knows is that, ten minutes later, you’re splayed out on his bed like his own personal feast, and the sight of your glistening pussy makes him go feral.
He kneels between your thighs, hooks your legs on his shoulders before leaning closer, lapping your juices up. You make a breathy sound he remembers from every night he couldn’t sleep during his military service, instead thinking about how much he missed you.
You taste good. You taste sweet and salty, a perfect mix to his senses that makes him forget everything else but you. He circles your clit with his tongue, teases the bundle of nerves before he goes back to your entrance, pushing his tongue in once. You moan, one hand finding his hair to tug at the strands, and you instinctively grind in his face. Seokjin flattens his tongue to let you do it, to let you seek friction on the wet muscle, and then he unleashes himself, eats you out like you’re his last meal on this Earth.
You’re panting already, alternating between mewls and moans by the time he pushes a finger inside of you, fighting against your already tightening walls. They relax when he sucks on your clit, and he takes it as an opportunity to push another finger in, curling his digits to hit the right spot inside of you.
After all, he knows he needs to stretch you out before he’ll be able to fuck you. You’re on the smaller side, and he’s… bigger than a lot of guys, so you do need the stretching. And he’s pleased to oblige, circling your clit, flicking it until your walls start spasming on his fingers. Not even a heartbeat later, you’re coming, his name on your lips in a sinful cry as he rides you through the orgasm, going feral with the sounds you make, and mostly with the taste of you.
His chin is covered with your juices by the time he sits back on his heels. He licks his fingers clean as you watch him through half-lidded eyes, and then he grabs his discarded shirt from the side - he barely remembers getting naked - to wipe his face dry.
You’re naked too. A literal goddess sent from above to grace him with your presence. You’re everything he could have ever wished for, and he still can’t understand how stupid he was last year.
To think he could have had you during the rare breaks from his service…
He was stupid. Stupid, foolish and everything in between, but at least he’s here with you now.
“Wow,” you let out, a small chuckle falling from your lips. You’re visibly fucked out, yet you still manage to rock his world as you reach for his dick, giving him a squeeze. “I want you.”
Shit.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you start stroking him.
“So big…” He grunts at your crude words. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about sex with you for weeks, Jin.”
He looks around, searching for his pants. They’re over by the door, a lot farther away than he imagined they would be. It feels far, too far, considering he’s already nestled between your legs.
“What?” you let out, and you grip him tighter.
He feels it in his balls. He hasn’t had sex in forever - you being the last one before his service - so obviously he knows he won’t last. He’s so horny he thinks he’d be able to come all over your stomach if you keep jerking him off. But he stops you, gently wrapping his hand around yours to restrain your motions.
“Baby,” he breathes out. “Shit, let me grab a condom.”
“You don’t want to fuck me raw?” you tease, biting at your lower lip. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since you.”
The words please him far more than he thought they would. It feels like, maybe, you were his all this time too.
He says your name like a warning, but you only smirk mischievously.
“Afraid I’ll get pregnant?” you add. “Don’t you think we’d make pretty babies?”
You would. He knows damn well you would and it wouldn’t even be because of him. It’d be all you - your beauty is incomparable.
“As much as I want to get you pregnant one day,” Seokjin replies, moving away from you. He misses your hand on him the second you let go, but it’s for the best. “I don’t think we are there yet,” he continues. “But I promise I’ll fuck babies into you one day.”
You close your thighs instinctively at his words as if you’re still searching for friction.
As if you didn’t come on his tongue just a minute ago.
It doesn’t take Seokjin a long time before he’s put a condom on, discarding the package in the trash can next to your bed. You’ve just been watching him, and he kneels back between your legs, his balls already tightening in anticipation.
He rubs his tip on your folds, collecting the glistening juice. Your mouth falls open on a silent moan, especially as he moves to your clit. One of your legs twitches from oversensitivity, or at least he assumes it’s because of that, and he aligns himself with your entrance.
“Let me know if it hurts,” he tells you.
“Don’t you remember how well I could-”
Your words are cut short as Seokjin pushes in, your walls sucking him in slowly and surely until he bottoms out, some of his dick still sticking out of you. You just look at him, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, and Seokjin licks his lips, saying, “You were saying?”
“I’ve missed this.”
Your words ring in his mind, on and on, erasing everything that he is to build him anew, to build him in a way that finally allows him to be with you. His heart fills with warmth, exploding like fireworks, and he bends down to capture your lips in a kiss that means more than words ever could.
He doesn’t move for a while, warming his cock in you while he just keeps on kissing you, not even stopping for breathing. It’s like he doesn’t need it - hell, he thinks all he needs is you. And you kiss him back with so much passion he thinks this is it, he’s reached nirvana.
The feeling perseveres as he slowly pulls his hips back, before pushing forward again, the motion making his entire body tingle with pleasure. He swallows your soft moan, grunts in your mouth as your pussy clenches on him. Your hands are on his back, in his hair, and the second you pull on the strands again, he lifts his head, meeting your gaze.
“You feel so good,” you praise, eyes sparkling.
He smiles softly, pecking your forehead, and then he kneels back to take in the sight of you as he slowly fucks into you, spearing you open. The sight of your pussy swallowing his dick is indecent in the best way, and he progressively increases the rhythm, making sure not to hurt you.
He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did. So he fucks you gently, faster and faster but never hard, not until your hands find his thighs, your nails digging into his skin. He grunts then, swearing underneath his breath, and then says, “I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“Jin, it’s okay,” you let out. You smile, wetting your lips. “Just fuck me.”
He lets out what could be considered as a whine, and then his motions grow rougher. He stops himself after a few thrusts, and you meet his gaze, looking slightly annoyed that he stopped.
“You have to tell me if it hurts, okay?” he says as he cups your cheek.
You smile softly, nodding once. “I will, I promise.”
Once the reassurance is finally uttered, Seokjin finally lets himself go, fucking you like his life depends on it. You’re soon moaning loudly, and he has half a thought that his neighbours might hear. But then again it turns him on even more to know he’s the one making you scream like that, and he’s soon moaning with you, praising you as he slowly feels his climax nearing.
But he wants you closer when he comes. Wants to feel you in his arms, to feel his skin on yours. So he leans forward again, caging you between his arms as he keeps fucking you into the mattress. Your nails soon scratch at his back, leaving marks he knows he’ll have to hide but can’t bring himself to care about.
“Fuck, Jin,” you moan, and his head drops in the crook of your neck.
“I’m going to come,” he says, and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as the high finally hits him, and he releases loads and loads of cum in the condom.
He thinks he’s floating. He’s just a leaf floating away on a small lake, unbothered by the world. His whole body feels so light, and the only thing tethering him to the present is your arms around his neck.
He’s never come this hard before.
“You okay?” you ask as you rub his back.
He grunts, trying to lift his head but failing. “Holy shit.”
You laugh lightly, and the crystalline sound is what finally brings him back down to Earth, what has to be minutes later.
“Wow.” He chuckles, pecks your lips. “That was amazing.”
You smile, your fingers drawing idle shapes on his back. “It was.”
Seokjin meets your gaze, taking a moment to observe the feelings swirling behind your irises, deep in the depths of your eyes. The emotions are like northern lights, swishing and shining and more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen before.
This time, Seokjin doesn’t get scared. This time, he takes the emotions in, knowing that they are reflected in his own gaze. And though you haven’t told it to each other, he knows that you love him.
And more than that, he knows that he loves you, too.
☆☆☆☆☆
hope you guys liked it:) let me know what you think about this one shot! love y'all <3
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
#sweet#jin smut#jin fluff#jin angst#jin fic#jin x you#jin x reader#seokjin angst#seokjin fluff#seokjin smut#seokjin x you#jin#seokjin#kim seokjin#kim seokjin smut#seokjin x reader#kim seokjin x you#kim seokjin x reader#btswritersclub#4k followers celebration#follower milestone celebration
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Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust
Okay so... I was making up scenarios in my head as I was falling asleep last night and I made myself cry ... so I obviously had to share...
Poly141; the four men are your husbands and all deployed at the same time, leaving you home with your three kids at the beginning of the school holidays.
This turned out longer than I thought it would but I just had to write it out. I love Poly141 AND them being dads :')
Da = Johnny
Papa = John P.
Dad= Simon
Daddy = Kyle
School holidays had just started, and your three pups were buzzing as soon as they came home. Bags were thrown on the floor, school shoes unlaced and scattered around the shoe stand. They knew the rules, but first day of school holidays meant they were allowed to get a little wild.
Your oldest, Paesha, had just turned eight and her father was obvious. Thick curls, dark skin and warm brown eyes made it plain to see. But all your husbands loved her the same. In fact, she had a special bond with her Da (Johnny).
Malachai, your second, could have been any of the three other men's. Light brown hair, fair complection, and utterly/overly protective of his sisters. He had been born a year after Pae.
And your youngest, Felicity (known as Flick), had started her first year in big school. She was known for having exceptional blue eyes.
None of your husbands wanted a DNA test, they thought it useless because everyone treats the children with the same love, compassion and warmth.
Throwing your keys on the counter (Paesha picked them up and placed them on the hook). You rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to quell the longing in your soul. You didn't know if it was worse when the kids were gone or with you. Being completely alone let the terrible thoughts attack but you didn't want your kids to miss out on having their fathers'.
Calming the oncoming tears, you turned around and asked, "who wants pizza for dinner?"
"YES!" Yelled Mal, a fist punched in the air. Paesha nodded her head enthusiastically while Flick did a little happy dance.
Paesha halted and squinted at you, "Not homemade right?"
After dinner arrived, the four of you sat on the large dark green couch. Your two ex-military dogs, Moth and Teddy, sat on either end of the lounge.
Turning onto the streaming service, you found the exact movie you were looking for. The 2003 version of Peter Pan.
With the lights off (except for the kitchen, the kids were still scared of too much darkness), you watched as one of your cats jumped into Pae's lap. Barnaby started purring instantly. His fluffy white tail settled around his body.
The seven of you settled in. Your four human babies snuggled up to their mama, smiles already on their faces.
When the movie had finished, your kids still wouldn't go to bed.
"Oh wait, I know why it isn't working - we don't have the pixie dust!" Flick pulled on your sleeve with a huge gap-toothed smile.
You had been watching as they jumped around the room. Lights flicked on, bodies flinging from one couch to another.
"I know! But ... we don't have any in the house..." You grumbled.
Paesha was staring dreamily at Peter Pan, a cheek resting against her face. "Where do we get some?" Her head turned slightly to look at you, her eyes nearly heart-shaped.
"Ugh-" god trying to keep childlike wonder alive was bloody difficult. Like a sign from the Universe, your phone started to ring.
All three kids ran over to it, knowing exactly who was calling at this time of night. Swiping the screen, four familiar faces popped up.
"Da! Papa! Dad! Daddy!" Smiling through the screen, the men had been just as eager to see their kids as their kids were to see them.
"Hello little munchkins, ya been good for mum?" Simon greeted first. His mask was off and no black could be found around his eyes. He never showed that side to the children.
"We're going to fly!" Flick chirped, her arms outstretched and running around.
"You're - what?" Price said with a slightly panicked face.
"But we need pixie dust," Malachai explained. Shaking his head like this was obvious information.
"I introduced them to the ... live action Peter Pan," you explained and a smile of regret grew on your tired face.
"Oh honey," Kyle replied, understanding the situation. He was the first of the men to.
"But we don't have any and we have to go buy more!" Pae said while leaning against you.
"Eh, pixie dust ...?" you heard Johnny mumble in the background.
"Oh! I have an idea!" You said with a faked expression, "why don't the Dada's get us the pixie dust!"
The chorus of cheers was heard throughout the house. Alerting the the tired Moth and Teddy.
Kyle shook his head. And Price's nose flared. Mum: 1 - Dads: 0.
"We'll bring back the goddamns finest," Simon said. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
"See! You heard Dad! Now get your butts' upstairs and in bed."
"Yes ma'am!" They said in unison (a nickname they'd heard their father's use one too many times.)
Once the kids were upstairs, your face dropped.
"I miss you guys," you whispered into the phone. The tears welling and spilling down your cheeks.
"We miss you too," John said, his words strangled with his feelings.
It was always hard to hang up.
It hurt.
But tonight's farewell felt like the hardest. You could just imagine how the scenario would've played out if their father's were there with them. With you.
'Can't always get what we want,' you thought bitterly.
"Not long now," Kyle said. You stared at his eyes and then his lips. God how much you wanted to kiss him.
"You better make sure you bring back some fucking pixie dust or there'll be a riot."
"Aye, Laswell definitely knows someone-" Johnny replied, giving you a wink. "Miss you gorgeous." He always tried to uplift the mood. And it nearly always worked.
You fought out of your misery, knowing the four soldiers couldn't bear to see you upset. And as they said their goodbyes, you said so in return.
"We love you, our precious wife. We'll all be together soon."
#witchthewriter#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#poly cod#poly!141#polyamourous#polyamory#kyle garrick#kyle garrick headcanon#kyle garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#simon riley#simon riley cod#john price#john price x reader#john price x you#captain john price#task force 141#captain johnathan price#captain price#price cod#johnny mactavish#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mctavish
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Steal Me Away
Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.
Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.
Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III
Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader
Words: 2.6k++
Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)
P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍
Read my other works here: Masterlist
The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.
He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.
Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.
The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.
Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.
Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.
Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.
His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.
Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.
His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.
Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.
But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.
“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, “maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”
The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.
Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.
The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.
The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.
Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.
The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.
Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.
Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”
The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.
Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”
Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.
They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.
Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.
Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.
His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.
As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.
Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.
Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.
Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.
Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.
Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.
And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.
He missed her deeply.
The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?
Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.
As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.
The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.
Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.
He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”
Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.
Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.
“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.
Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.
A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.
But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.
Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.
The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.
Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.
Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.
Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.
He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.
Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.
“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.
Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.
But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.
The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.
The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.
As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.
Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.
The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.
Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!
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