#reader x choi beomgyu

[biteyoubiteme]

black cherry flavored

ot5 txt x fem!reader

synopsis: how many ghostfaces are there again?

warnings: 🔞!!! gangbang, mentions of drinking, getting scared, fearplay? reader gets chased through house and doesnt know who it is, knifeplay (only used to cut off underwear), clit play, mean dom moments, filming during sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f!), creampie(s), marking, subspace, fingering, oral (m! rec), hair pulling!, overstim (f!rec), she/her used prob forgot some

wc: 9.2k (this one got away from me)

an: this is not proofread at all im so so so sorry forgive me sweet angel ily but I cannot believe october is over and this event has come to an end ;-; I hope you guys like this one! im a HUGE horror movie fan so I was excited to do this and hopefully it turned out well. I went with a different approach for a scream fic that was kinda based on different aspects from the movies and I hope you like it! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the rest of the fics! [dumdum m.list]

"whats your favorite scary movie?"

You roll your eyes, hand coming up to cover the screen of your laptop. “Aren't you supposed to be doing your own work not pestering me about mine?” 

It was late in the night, the library dead silent besides the hum of the heater and faint typing on stiff keyboards. The door to the study space was cracked just enough to hear the elevator if it dinged, the indicator the floor would soon be closing for the cleaning staff. The clock on the wall told you it was close to one in the morning, only an hour away from the library being cleared and closed.  

“I'm avoiding the rest of my essay,” beomgyu shrugs, clicking his pen as a signal for an end to the line of questioning. “Annoying you just seemed like a better plan,” 

“Annoying all of us, I needed this done an hour ago,” yeonjun doesn't even look up from his laptop, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, lenses glossed over with the light from his screen, fingers speeding over the keys only to pause and jam the delete button. “Fuck, i lost my train of thought,” 

“It's already late, just turn it in tomorrow morning,” huening suggests, slouched back in his chair, thumbs nibbly swiveling on the joystick of his switch. “The syllabus said it was ten points off no matter how late after twelve you submit it,” 

“Don't talk to me right now, you got yours in on time. And I'm getting this done tonight whether I like it or not. I won't be able to handle looking at it tomorrow morning. the paper just won't get turned in at all if that happens,” yeonjuns back to typing furiously squinting at his laptop not noticing kais grin. 

“You should have listened to me about meeting up at nine, but nooo-” 

“Huening,” yeonjun warns. 

“I'm just saying…” 

Yeonjun picks up one of Soobin's scattered pens from the table, tossing it at Kai hitting him in the lap. And when Kai just laughs, Yeonjun picks up a few more to throw, the showering of pens making Kai yelp. 

“Shhh,” soobin doesn't even lift his head to see what's going on. He and tae had been trying to sleep for the better part of two hours, Taehyun having found success, sliding two chairs together to prop his legs up. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and hasn't said anything since closing them. Soobin only crossed his arms and laid his head down, leg bouncing showing he was still struggling to actually find it in him to sleep without his bed. 

The six of you usually booked the room on Friday nights from nine to two, blocking the time to try and catch up on work before the weekend. It was either the time you got the most work done or none at all. You're surprised it took beomgyu this long to finally turn away from his assignment at this point he's usually at the whiteboard doodling or trying to get everyone to play dirty hangman. 

It was easier to get all of you together here instead of one of your small dorms, the space hardly big enough for three people let alone six. In the library you didn't have to worry about cramming together, the fourth floors study spaces equipped with long tables and eight chairs. Out of the two libraries on campus this one didn't have many people visit often, especially not when the walk from any of the dorms was twice as long. The fourth floor was empty and quiet except for the group's laughter on nights you didn't worry about work. 

“You didn't answer that question,” beomgyu points out again, pointer finger pushing away your hand blocking the screen, “what's your favorite scary movie?” 

“I didn't answer it because I can't choose,” you confess, scrolling through the paper you're writing for class. 

“Is your homework twenty questions?” soobins voice is muffled, annoyed and sleep-ridden. 

“No-” 

beomgyu cuts you off before you could explain, brows scrunching as he reads. “Looks like it, this one is ‘what are the rules around sex’ there is no way this actually for your class,” 

“What?” this pulls soobins head up, the messy strands of his dark hair sticking up around his forehead. 

“Of course you wake up when you hear the word sex,” yeonjun quips, pursing his lips reading over his work on his screen. 

“No need to wake up you type so loud i couldn't fall asleep,” soobin says brushing his long fingers through his hair, you always noticed the later it got the grumpier he became, pouting lips and half lidded eyes always making an appearance after midnight. 

“It's for my film studies class. We’re learning about the rules of horror,” its clarification enough for soobin who nods but beomgyu lets his head tilt to the side, the vision of a question mark. 

“Rules? You can't just send a killer in, have them spill some blood, and call it a day?” 

“You could, but i'm sure it would follow a pattern, even without you realizing it,” scrolling through your work you pause on the first option. “First you have to think about the time period when the movie was filmed. Most of the popular ones ranged from the 80’s to the early 2000’s. A huge push in most cultures is the topics of sex, drugs, and money. It's the three things people try to control the most. Throw a bunch of badly behaving teens in with a psycho killer playing god and you can tell the masses how wrong something is. Like having sex,” 

“So wrong it would get you killed?” 

“Yup, in most, if not all, horror movies the people who have sex on screen or are known for sleeping around get killed off, leaving the poor virgin alive. Main characters who live to the end also don't drink, or do drugs. Rich people aren't safe, especially if you have a big empty house with lots of stairs, doors, and windows. The more for you to make the wrong decision not to exit from,” 

“Then who does live?” Kai asks, game paused in hand. 

“The girl next door lead, never her boyfriend, the camera man, unless you see him leave the group because you should never leave the group under any circumstances. But everyone else is fair game. Oh and if you say ‘i'll be right back,’ the lines a killer in and of itself,” 

“So I'd die because I like to have a good time?” yeonjun asks, fingers paused on his keys as he looks over at you. Everyone but tae is turned in your direction, listening intently. 

“Unless you're the killer, or lucky because you weren't in line of the camera when you decided it was smart enough to leave the house. It's very kill or be killed. Another rule is to never trust anyone,” 

“The list just gets longer and longer,” soobin sits back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stretches, “you know i saw this one post on twitter that some people like the whole masked killer thing, gets them off,” 

“Of course you would be on twitter looking at stuff like that,” gyu fakes disappointment, shaking his head, “this is exactly why you wouldn't survive, you're a closeted perv,” 

“I don't know about closeted perv, he was openly scrolling past hentai the other day in the dorm,” yeonjun is back to typing, soobin kicking the foot of his chair. 

“Past it, i didn't pause on it,” 

“It was on your for you page! Clearly you have a habit of liking things akin to it,” 

“I don't know, I think it's kinda hot, the mask thing. or i guess more so the build up of fear, it's almost like foreplay, your pulse starts going, you get all flushed. And I did see this clip of these two guys dressed up…” this wouldn't be the first time any of you confessed to watching something that turned you on. All of you had been friends for years, growing up nothing had ever been an off limits topic. You can see the video in your head, the way they held the girl between them; how they manhandled her down onto the bed. 

“So you and soobin are both freaks,” beomgyu grins, the need to tease showing right in his eyes. 

“A threesome is not freaky,” Taehyun states, breaking his silence, hat still over his eyes, fully relaxed and laid back. If you hadn't known the sound of his voice you would have assumed he was still asleep, if he had even been asleep in the first place. 

“Agreed, anything over three is a little freaky,” soobin shrugs, bending over halfway out of his chair to pick up his fallen pens. 

“So would you? Sleep with more than two people at once?” gyu asks, the tilt back to his head, “this is the true test if you're freaky or not,” he chuckles. 

“I mean yeah… would you?” The question is directed at the room and you watch the question lay over them like fog, each of them thinking for a second, blank expressions all the way around.

Taehyun was the first to respond, shrugging his shoulders before nodding briefly, “I wouldn't let the opportunity slip by if it was offered,” It was a unanimous yes from all of them, the hummed agreement not too surprising. 

“Done!” yeonjun smashes one last key before stretching big, “finally fucking submitted, and right before we have to leave, im surprised the staff hasnt gotten around to our room yet to kick us out,”

Taehyun pulls his hat from his face, sitting up with a yawn, “good, i needed my bed two hours ago,” 

It always felt so good to sleep in on a saturday after a study session like this, you could already feel how cozy it would be to wrap up in your blanket. And even if the mattress was shit with or without the foam topper, it was better than laying out in the chairs like taehyun just was.  

All of you cleaned up the space, making sure to tuck in the chairs, pick up the discarded cups of late night bad decision coffee. Squishing in the elevator together, bags bumping into one another before you filed out; passing all the empty desks and empty aisles of books to make it out the front door. 

As soon as the outside air hits your cheeks you know it’s going to feel like a long walk back to the dorms. the boys tucking their ears into hoodies, zipping their jackets up, you and kai lived in the dorms on the opposite side of campus from the rest of them, their walk shorter by only a few minutes. 

“Okay we’re still on for dinner tomorrow right?” Kai asks the group. 

beomgyu’s jumping on the balls of his feet to try to generate some warmth. “literally just text us, I cannot think about tomorrow when i’m this cold and sleepy,”

“Yes, we’re still on, I've been craving anything other than dining hall food for the past week,” yeonjun adds, shivering as he pulls the straps of his bag closer to his chest. “We'll still meet up back here like usual,” he was walking backwards as he said it, already a few steps behind the others, “but see you guys tomorrow or should I say ‘i’ll be right back!’” he jokingly yells while the others wave goodbye. 

“don’t play jjunie, you might be next! don’t trust anyone!” He gives you a silent salute in response as you and Kai head out for your walk. 

Instinctively the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, bumping into one another every other step. Silence following each muffled step on the pavement. Sometimes the two of you didn't say anything until you split on the elevators. a quick ‘goodnight’ or ‘see you tomorrow’ thrown out as you step out on your floor, waving as the doors closed back up so he could go up one more level. Other nights it was the two of you giggling trying to keep it down as you walked under the moonlight, too late to be loud. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the wind hits the treeline. spots of orange light from the spaced out street lights are rare, casting the two of you in darkness every time the moon is behind the clouds; every several feet the hash light is back in your path. 

“So you'd live? In a horror movie?” Kai asks, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders to his ears from the cold. The wind is hitting him right in the face, tossing his hair from his eyes where he liked to keep it. He asks it so softly, the question highlighted in the divot of his brow, nose pink, face washed in the glow from the moon. 

“I'm not really a virgin so…,” it's not an embarrassing confession but when it's this late with his eyes trained solely on you it's like a spilled glass of red wine on white sheets. Impossible to look away from. 

“You wouldn't live for knowing how people survive?” 

“The smart ones usually die from bad luck, they know to head for the car waiting in the lot but forget the keys or if the keys are still in the ignition they never check the back seat. They know if you run into the woods to escape you can hide, but how unlucky for a rusty forgotten bare trap to be waiting for your next step. or if you miss that one here's a log to trip over, only to tumble down a hill and break your neck. Call the police? You're in the one movie a phone works only for you to forget never trust anyone because the police work for the killer,” 

“So none of us make it?” It's such an open question the way he asks it, the hopeful twinge hitting the ending, twisting it into something it shouldn't be. Written right over his features the soft words unsaid, can't we? There has to be a way.

“This isn't a movie kai, we’re fine,” 

“I know, it's only a question,” he's so easily flustered when alone, second guessing everything he says, as if one slip up will make you hate him. Now he's blushing, both of you falling back into comfortable silence. You can tell he's thinking by the way he's biting at his cheek, eyes watching his feet, making sure not to miss one step. You assume it's the end of what he has to say, his silence following you all the way back to your floor. The elevator doors opened finally giving him the courage to speak up. “Do you…” 

“Hum?” you lift your arm to hold the doors open, turned to see him struggling to get the words out. 

“Do you want to come with me to my parents cabin,” he says it all in a rush, avoiding looking you in the eyes just in case you reject him. “I mean you don't have to, the guys won't be there and if it makes you uncomfortable-” he cuts himself off, hand at the back of his neck, trying to rub away his embarrassment, “forget it- forget i said anything,” 

“It's okay, I'd love to go. where is it?” 

“Um it's like two hours from campus, my parents need me to check on it just cause and i thought, why not make a weekend of it? I mean, you can finally sleep on a real mattress, not whatever was issued here,” 

A weekend away did sound good, perfect after the semester you were having. And Kai is as sweet as they come, spending time with him wouldn't be bad at all. “Sure, when are you thinking?” 

“Next week?” 

It was all so very innocent, a sweet boy asking a girl to join him on a weekend getaway. He even packed you snacks for the drive, let you pick all the music, and made sure to carry your bag in when you arrived. 

You weren't stupid enough not to realize why you were here and the other boys didn't get an invite. The whole week you thought it over, pushing around the idea of being with him. And you could tell he was tossing it around all throughout the drive, periodically blushing without saying a thing to you, hands tightening on the steering wheel; knuckles turning white from the pressure. 

Halfway through the drive you realized exactly what he meant by cabin. Not the kind sitting near the edge of a trail, but one hidden deep into the woods for perfect seclusion. Kai had a late class to make up for and the two of you didn't get started on the drive until the sun was already setting behind the trees. Every shadow thrown across the road drew longer and longer as the car kept on. 

The gravel driveway leading up to the cabin was a stretch, but when you finally broke past the winding path the gleaming two story was not very cabin like. The windows reflecting the cars headlights back at you expanded most of the first level. Wraparound porch dotted with chairs, and a swinging bench. As soon as kai killed the engine the silence stumbled in, darkness spilling over the scene as you climbed out of your seat. 

“This place is huge,” you whisper, as if anything louder would disrupt the peace of the outdoors. You held your phone's flash up in front of you, huening fumbling to put the key into the lock on the first try. Each attempt from his shaking hand failed.

“Here,” you took the key into your own hand, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. 

“Sorry,” his voice wavering as he flips on the light switch, “i'm just- you know-,” he cuts himself off not wanting any more embarrassment to follow him. 

As soon as the lights come on you can't see anything outside, the windows a reflection of the room. A tv hanging over a huge stone fireplace, welcoming couches spaced out in a semi circle around a wooden coffee table, a bar topped with dusty glasses pushed in the corner. Kai kicks off his shoes by the door, walking further in you notice the dark hallway leading deeper into the first floor, a staircase waiting right by the entrance. But kai ignores it all while walking towards the kitchen. 

“I mostly have to check the doors and windows to make sure no one broke in,” he's trying to fill the silence, rambling to kill his nerves,”one year we had someone steal the tv, we don't really leave much now just incase, so that's why it looks so empty,” 

“People actually drive all the way out here and break in? The last time i saw a turn off the road before this one was an hour ago,” 

“You never know, it's best to just check and fill out a report sooner rather than later,” in the kitchen the backdoor is made of two foggy planes of glass, only the outline of kai seen in the weavering shape. He twists the knob and to your surprise it gives way and opens, “damn one of my sisters must have forgotten to lock it last they were here,” You lean your hip against the kitchen island, taking his explanation as is. 

“They come out here to check too?”

“Rarely they mostly come with their friends but stopped when they realized there is zero phone service this far out,” 

“There isn't?” you hadn't even checked to see if your phone was working, “what if someone had broken in? You have no phone to make a call from,” 

He chuckles pointing past your shoulder, right on the end of the counter a sleek black cordless landline rests in its holder, the blinking red light showing one waiting voicemail. “Sometimes it can be spotty but for the most part its a solid line of communication,” 

Hand still on the knob of the backdoor he locks the door before walking over to the pantry, finding only a crate of dusty wine and a stack of old jiffy pop popcorn. 

“Wait, I didn't think they made these anymore,” you reach out for the thin metal handle attached to the panshapped popcorn container. Shaking it you hear the rattle of the kernels, “when i was younger i thought it was just something people had in movies,” 

“My sisters and i love the stuff, it's also easy to pop outside over the fire,” 

“So all you leave is popcorn and wine when you're not staying here?” you tap the crate of wine with your foot, his grin boyish and shy. 

“It's a good thing for us now i guess,” 

It's what leads you to sharing the bottle, passing it by the neck as he gives you a tour of the house. His lips right at the spout, nerves loosening up with each sip he takes, creaking steps leading up the second floor. “And here is my room,” 

It’s right at the end of the hall, bed neatly made with a single stuffed penguin sitting against the pillows. “You left him here all alone?” You ask, picking up the plushie, Kai's standing in front of the closet, the slatted doors making up most of the wall behind him facing the bed. 

He shrugs placing the half full wine bottle down on his dresser, “someone needed to protect my prize possession,” he falls right onto the mattress, head thrown back, hair spilling against the pillows, “i always sleep so good in this bed,” cheeks flushed from the wine, half lidded eyes watching you from under his lashes. It's an invitation you don't pass up. 

You climb in after him, feeling relaxed from drinking even if it was only a little bit, you can tell it's helped him too, his lazy smile so blissful. “I'm sure this bed is good for other things too,” you don't even care about being bold, not alone with him under you as you dip your head, nose brushing his. 

The first kiss is so soft, a brush of lips together lasting no longer than a second. Kai whines in the back of his throat, an ache for more hidden in the desperate sound. It's addicting to have someone seem so needy for your attention, his legs instinctively tangling with yours, hand at the back of your neck pulling you back down for another kiss.

The two of you fumbling to feel at each other, your hand sliding up under his shirt to touch his warm skin, his stomach flexing at the brush of your cold fingertips. His hand at your waist pulling you closer to him, needing you as close as he can get you. The kiss is sloppy in seconds, his tongue sliding against yours, noses bumping as you breath in each other.  You can feel that he's semi-hard, pressed against your thigh between his legs. 

He's a mess, whimpering when you pull away to take off your sweater, leaving you braless in a tank top. greedy hands back on you, pulling you back down on top of him, he’s grinding onto you desperately, fully hard from only kissing. 

every little noise he makes is caught in your mouth, his fingers fumbling for the button on your jeans. you have to pull away after his failed attempt, giggling as you brush his hair back, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening we have all night,” you remind him, “I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” he's looking up at you with total devotion, with an expression that lets you know he'd let you do anything if you asked. 

“Please?” and it doesn't even matter what he's begging for, you would let him do just about anything in return for looking at you like that. 

You're quick to rid yourself of your pants, falling back to the bed and letting him roll on top of you. Hands in his hair as he presses into you, one hand holding himself up while the other snakes down between you two. The soft gasp you let out eggs him on, drawing soft circles over your clothed clit like he knows exactly what to do. You twist your fingers into his hair, his lips tracing down your neck, hips back to grinding into your thigh. At first you don't notice the smell of popcorn. It's faint upstairs, wafting in through the vents, buttery and warm as kai slips his fingers into you. Your hips rolling on his hand, meeting every thrust, heel of his palm pressed to your clit. 

It isn't until the popcorn starts to burn that you say something, the tang in the air subtle as kai sucks hickeys on your sensitive skin. “Is something on fire?” 

Kai pulls away from the crook of your neck, “what the fuck?” breathing deeply to catch the scent. It's clear in the air now, hanging around like a question. “Stay here,” 

it's so unceremonious when he pulls his hand from your panties, fingers dropping onto his tongue to clear them, “i'll be right back, okay?” 

“O-okay,” you're confused more than anything, knees pulling in feeling overly exposed all of a sudden. It's silent in the house, the soundtrack of your kissing dimmed to nothing, before it's replaced with the creaking of his dissipating steps down the stairs. 

You feel a little foolish sitting in his bed, the crumpled sheets and discarded plushie a reminder that this is not normal for a hook up at all. Letting out a long breath you push out of the bed, all relaxation felt before now gone as you reach for the wine bottle on the dresser. You take a heavy swig from the bottle, needing your courage back. It felt silly to worry over burnt popcorn. 

Your stomach turns, sickening realization settling in. the two of you had only picked up the wine, neither of you even put the jiffy pop close to the stove's burners. You're quick to look for your phone, checking in the pile of your clothes on the floor, and finding nothing. Your bag was by the door downstairs, right next to the shoes, if your phone wasnt up here it was bound to be in your bag. 

You didn't say anything as you made it to the top of the stairs, not until the phone rang. Not the familiar song that came through your speakers but the deft echo of a warning siren. The kind of ringtone that was played in a movie when someone was receiving bad news, and it didn't stop, traveling up the stairs, playing once, twice, until nothing but silence. 

“Huening?” your voice wasn't as strong as you wished, faulting at the end as you took your first step down the stairs. 

No response. 

The last step creaks under your weight, the sound triggering the phone, that chilling ringtone back in the air. All the lights are on, nothing outside the windows visible as you watch your reflection walk past. You look right at the front door as you walk past, all of your things still in place, even Kai's shoes are still right where he left them. 

In the kitchen you find the ringing phone, the little screen bright green as it shows the incoming call. The skins faucet turned on, the pelting water beating down on the thin aluminum foil of the jiffy pop, hastily tossed into the basin. Thin rivulets of smoke still curling from the singed popcorn. The stove's gas burner still lit with a blue flame. 

The ringing continues as you turn everything off, feeling suddenly too cold and alone standing under the golden lights. It doesn't help that you're only dressed in your panties and tanktop, bare feet padding across the tile to pick you the phone. 

Unknown caller. Read the directory, not even the number shown underneath. You hit answer before you could think better of it. 

“Hello?” your pulse was in your ears, washing down your neck, but you're stunned to recognize the voice over the phone. 

“What's your favorite scary movie?” 

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you respond, “kai, are you using the ghostface voice on me right now? You already had your hand down my pants no need for the theatrics,” 

You can't even pick up a trace of his real voice over the filter, the soft chuckle on the other line trickling down your spine. “You didn't answer my question, you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“So we’re quoting the movie now?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop. “Should i go all in and start asking to make it to the sequel?” 

He chuckles, so soft and sensual, unlike his usual boisterous laugh. “Maybe…but a little birdie told me that you're not a virgin and you know what happens to those who sleep around right?” 

“Enlighten me,” you cross your arms smiling at your reflection in the window. It's a bit silly to be here roleplaying in the first place but it's not like you're against it. What gets you is that it's coming from kai of all people. So soft and sweet, giggling and shyly walking you home. But you truly never know what a persons into until you're faced first with it. 

“They don't last very long,” so smug as he says it. 

“They don't?” 

“Nope, and you have a list of things that you've already done wrong. I don't know if you truly deserve to make it to the sequel,” 

“Oh? What did I do wrong?” you smile, checking out your nails, thumb running along the bed of your cuticles as you listen. 

“Humm, let me see. First you're all alone in that big old house, did anyone ever tell you never to go into the dark and scary woods all alone?” 

“I'm not alone, i have you,” 

He ignores the last half of your statement, “Aren't you? hum, funny how i don't see the boytoy around anymore,” 

“I can't believe you planned all of this, who knew you would be so freaky? I can't say that it doesn't turn me on though,” 

“Oh? How cute that you still think I'm your little boyfriend. I mean didn't you see the signs? The door was unlocked in the back, popcorn on the stove when you didn't put it there, and now a missing boy toy. It's a shame you seem to have forgotten everything you've learned in class, or maybe it was the wine,” 

“A few sips won't make me stupid, seriously huening come out, i want to get back into your bed,” you push off the counter, walking back toward the living room until you're stopped dead in your tracks. The sound isn't coming from the phone but just up ahead around the corner.

Your laugh echoes in the empty house, followed by your own words, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening, we have all night, I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” 

You follow each line into the living room, the tv on and showing a video of only minutes ago. 

“Please?” kais weavering voice seems so loud here instead of between you two. 

You can see yourself push down your pants, watch the way the two of you fall right back into each other. Only now you're seeing it from the perspective of the closet, it's the only place you could think of that he would have placed the camera. The slats of the wood even in frame. It's like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on top of you. Standing in front of the tv as if you're Carrie from the prom and someones set up a cruel joke. 

“Cute huh?” the voice over the phone asks, that little laugh following right after, “i sure think it is. Look at the way your body reacts to his fingers, you’ll be that pretty for me won't you?” 

You feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, the house too big for this kind of game. Even just standing there now alone it felt like you were a fish in a bowl, stuck to be watched from all sides. And not from the video but from the figure standing right on the outside of the window. 

He was dressed in all black, nothing like what kai had been wearing before. And covering his face the dripping white mask of ghostface. You only catch a glimpse because the lights are on but it's enough to remind you that maybe this isn't a joke. “Are you outside?” 

“I don't know? Am i?” but as he says it you see down the hallway a dark figure step out of a doorway. 

Everything in you freezes, your heart rate plummeting, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. You hadn't even noticed your fingers had been trembling before, not until your deathgrip on the phone starts to hurt. “Don't hang up on me,” he warns over the line, but the person down the hall doesnt even have a phone in sight, his slow prowl reminding you to move. 

You take off back towards the kitchen, the back door playing in your head as the best possible exit but as soon as you're in front of it, tugging on a door knob needs to be unlocked you see the haze reflection of two more figures waiting right against the glass. You can hear the laugh of the person on the phone even if it's not to your ear as you rush to pull open any drawer that might have something in it to protect you. But every pull leads you to find nothing at all, “what the fuck!” 

The door shakes as they try to pull it open, the glass rattling as you lift the phone back to your ear, “okay huening, that's enough, i get it, ha ha, funny, but seriously-” 

“Were you looking for a knife?” he cuts you off, voice so calm when you're falling apart. 

“What?” you're exasperated, huffing the question like it's a slap in the face. 

“I know where one is, if you want it,” 

It's then that the masked man from the hall comes into the kitchen, the steel knife in his hands glinting in the light. “You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” youre desprate to find an explanation for this. The island is between the two of you, his head tilting to the side, the open mouth of the mask mocking you as he takes slow steps around the marble. You're matching his every move, both of you circling the kitchen like two fighters waiting for the ding of a bell. 

The door rattles again, the sound making you yelp, hand pressed to your racing heart. It's the distraction you need to bolt right through the kitchens arch way and run to the front door. 

You're moving so fast you have little time to slow down, partially slamming into the door, fingers fast to twist the locks. 

As soon as it's opened you're standing face to face with another ghostface mask, his black clad outfit sticking to his figure as he towers over you, phone hovering right over the mask's gaping mouth. “Hum not out the front door i guess,” 

You try to slam the door shut but his boot clad foot moves fast catching it right before it could close completely. Spinning you run towards the stairs, the sound of their following footsteps close behind. The door to the bedroom is still wide open as you barrel through turning around and throwing the door closed and twisting the lock. 

But it's only a moment of relief when you feel a hand clasp around your mouth. Your scream is muffled from their fingers, your eyes closing as if that would fix the situation, the phone in your hand falling to the floor, “Shhh it's okay,” Kai whispers, a strong arm wrapping around your middle pulling you closer to him. 

The weight is lifted off your shoulders hearing his voice, hands wrapping around the one covering your mouth to tug it away. “What is going on?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him. your back is to the door and he steps closer backing you right up against it. 

“Didn't you say you found it kinda hot, the whole fear thing?” he asks, leaning close enough to kiss, “i wanted to make it extra special for you, and you don't mind if we all share you, right?” his knuckle lifts your chin up so you’re eye to eye, nose to nose, his normal shy smile turned devilish. “All you have to do is say no,” 

It was crazy to say yes. your heart still pounding, breathing only just starting to regulate, and yet you want him, you want them. “I-I don’t- I don’t want to say no,” 

“Then don’t,” he pushed his whole body against yours, engulfing you in his warmth, taking you for another kiss like you hadn’t left the room at all. You don't even notice him unlocking the door, not until the knob is shaking against your back. 

Kai pulls you towards the bed, the closet doors behind him open showing the empty space with a lone camera on a tripod. The red light looking back at you like a warning, you looked right down the barrel of the lens wondering if you would ever see this again, and praying that you did. Kai fit his fingers over you eyes, “don't look at it, don’t think about its there,” 

You hear a chuckle, so similar to the one over the phone, only without the filter. Now so easily recognizable as yeonjun, you can picture the way his mouth looks as he does it, his canines on display as he smirks. You don't even have to see him to know, you've known all of them so long you're sure one touch and you could guess who was who. And with both of kais hands on your eyes the brush of someone's fingers on your cheek lets you know exactly who it is. Soobins hands are the softest of the bunch and your face tilts in his direction. “Soobin?”

he lets out a huff of a laugh, “you caught me. And you know it's kind of rude not to open the back door when we come knocking,” 

“You scared me,” it's a soft confession that they all chuckle at. 

“Did we?” beomgyu teases, so much closer than you expected, the ghost of his touch going up your arm, goosebumps popping up along the trail. 

Your senses are on overdrive, pulse loud enough to be heard if one listens close enough, every little thing heightened by your fading fear and covered eyes. You feel a hand slip down your stomach stopping right before your panty line, a single finger sliding under the waistline to pull it and let it snap back against your skin. You jolt from the contact, body flush with kai’s, his hard cock pressed to your back. 

You hear rustling from the closet, and kai lets you go, letting you see yeonjun taking the camera in hand. He's adjusting the viewfinder, the others standing in a circle around you, it should be intimidating, the masks off now, looking at you like you're something to eat. It's taehyun that steps forward first, thumb reaching out to drag across your bottom lip. You open your mouth letting him press the digit flat against your tongue. 

“You’ll be good for us, won't you?” he asks, and you close your mouth sucking his finger as you nod. He smirks, “i want first,” 

It's all he says before he's pushing you down on the bed. It's so quick the air is almost knocked right out of you, your hands scrambling to find purchase on the beds duvet cover. It's almost a shame how wet you already are, the way your panties are cut away, the cold knife in taehyuns free hand only just brushing your skin. The fabric tossed around from person to person. “I did most of the work,” kai adds as you bury your face into the sheets, “she wouldn't be this prepped if i didn't start early,” 

“And that's why you have to wait,” “You didn't even get her off,” they talk over each other.  

“You guys didn't give me time!” kai tries but they ignore him when you give a sharp whine. 

Taehyun shoves his fingers right into you, your body so willing to take him in. but you hear his belt being undone with one hand, and it's a shame you cant see the way his cock looks from this angle, because as he pressed the tip right at your entrance, slick fingers helping to lude up his veiny shaft, you can tell he's going to be the perfect stretch. 

Your moan as he sinks into your warm heat is echoed by the rest of them, a choir of the perfect voices turned husky and wanting. “Holy shit,” teahyun breathes his hand pressed right to your lower back, your feet dangling right off the edge of the bed, toes only just barely touching the ground. 

“Doesn't she feel amazing?” kai asks, “fuck i bet she fits like a fucking dream,” gyu adds as he walks over to the other side of the bed climbing in to lay against the headboard. His zipper was already undone, pants low on his hips as he watched you get pounded into. 

Because tae was not holding back anymore, it felt like he had been waiting all night for this exact moment, to chase his high without question. And your pussy was so welcoming, sucking him in, practically begging for his cum. 

Yeonjun walked around the bed, zeroing the camera in on you as your legs bend, heel of your feet pushing on taes thighs. Taehyun wraps his hands in your hair, tugging your head back, extending your throat to the camera, arching your back just right, “i want to be able to watch back how you looked while i fucked you okay?” 

“Oh, look at that, huening marked up our toy already,” soobin reaches out a finger, tracing over the hickey kai had left on your skin, your eyes were wide and begging as you watched him, mouth caught open in a moan as taes thrusts turned sloppy. “Fuck, look at that mouth,” 

yeonjun bent down to catch the image. “I think someone needs to fill it,” 

Soobin didn't need to be told twice. He was tugging his cock out of his jeans, leaking precum already dotting the tip as he gave it long languid strokes. Your mouth was already watering at the sight, knowing taking him down your throat would be a task but one you wouldn't back away from. 

But taehyun was already cumming, orgasm cresting as he slammed his hips into your ass, cock twitching as he let out a deep rumbling moan. He let go of your hair, head falling forward into the duvet as he stilled inside you pressing as close as he could get, the tip of his cock hitting you just right as he spilled inside you. 

“I want next!” gyu calls out, raising his hand like he knows the answer to a question. 

“No-” soobin starts but beomgyu is already moving from his stop on the bed as taehyun pulls out, the gush of warmth leaving your cunt dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun is quick to catch the sight on film. 

“Look at that,” it sounds so endearing coming from him, a true sight to behold as you whine from the feeling of being empty. You feel like a ragdoll as soobin pulls on you, tugging you further up the bed so that you're on your hands and knees in front of him. 

“Open,” his tip is already prodding at your lips. You feel the bed dip behind you, gyu finding his place as he drags his fingers through the leaking cum traveling down your legs, he does his best to shove it right back into you, fingers dragging over your clit, circling it as soobin shoves his cock right into your mouth. 

You give a muffled yelp, tongue flattening to make it easier for him to slide in and out of. His head is rolling back, hair spilling around his ears as he moans. He twists his fingers in your hair, both hands wrapping around your head to bob you up and down on his dick like his own personal toy. You're nails dig into the sheets, the sloppy sounds of him fucking your throat taking up the most sound. 

Beomgyu keeps one hand on your clit and the other guides his cock into you, he's quick to snap his hips forward sending you forward on soobin, until you're choking for air. Moans sending vibrations up along soobins shaft. His eyes tighten, needing to pull away before he cums too quickly, face flushed red as rivulets of your saliva still connect you to him. 

The constant pressure put on your clit from beomgyus fingers has your stomach tightening in knots. Now that you're not taking soobin in beomgyu picks up his pace, the skin on skin slapping sounds melding with your whines. “I want you to cum for me, i want to be the first one to make you cum, please,” he sounds so desperate, not matching the way he drills into you, tip hitting your cervix in a mix of painful pleasure. He can feel your fluttering walls, every particularly hard thrust making your cunt react just right. And when you cum hes a blubbering mess, “fuck fuck fuck-” not expecting to cum so fast, but youre drawing it out of him, with each little sound you make. He's almost embarrassed by how long he cums for, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder blade, his dick pulsing inside you, curses turning to nonsense, the drawn out, “fuuu- ahh, ah,”  

“Look at how pretty she looks when she cums,” yeonjun smiles, bringing the camera close to catch the way you are trying to blink the spots from your vision, “soobin next? Or maybe kai? Both of them seem to have waited so long for you,” 

Kai leans back against the dresser, arms crossed as he watches you, expressionless as he follows the shape of your body. Only one of your tank tops straps are on, your breasts already spilling out from the thin fabric, soobins eyes caught on your peaked nipples as he strokes himself. But you look back over to huening, the way he's standing there like he's unaffected at all. But you know it's not true, not when he's straining in his pants, the bulge itself drives you insane. “Hyuka?” 

The shyness in your voice is what does it for him, beomgyu only just pulling out of you with a hiss. More cum dribbling out as he pushes his hair back looking at his handiwork. Yeonjun is right next to him too, getting the perfect shot. 

Taehyun languidly lounges back against the headboard, cock still hard as it rests against his stomach, hand wrapped around the base as he watches you. It distracts you enough not to see kai moving replacing gyus spot. 

Kai wraps his hand in your hair but unlike taehyun he forcefully pushes your head down into the mattress. The whole mit of his hand cups your skull, your whimper making him chuckle. His free hands traced up your side, slipping under your tank top as he feels along your skin. “You know I was thinking about this the whole walk back after our study night?” his hand dips down fingers sliding along your wetness, “i kept thinking about how perfect it would be to absolutely ruin you,” 

You're already sensitive from finishing already and kai can tell as your thighs tremble but it wont stop him from pinching your clit. Your hips push back against him, yelping as he goes on to rub circles over the bundle of nerves. “Seeing it happen- watching you get used as a little cum dump is so much better than I ever imagined,” he works your clit, building up his speed until your back is arching, nails biting into your palm as you feel your orgasm building too quickly. You're trying to rock back into his hand but the way he has you bent helps very little. Your cries heighten until he pulls it all away. 

“No huening please!” 

“Aww how cute, she's begging,” beomgyu laughs and you're whimpering in response. 

“Kai…please!” 

“You're already doing so well because i want you begging to be filled with my cum, crying from how badly you want it,” his hand goes back to your cunt, pressing into your clit rubbing at a pace that has you seeing stars, your hands scratch out for looking for anything to hold onto. Yeonjun takes your hand in his keeping the camera facing your reaction as your eyes roll back. Its in the middle of your climax that kai pushes his cock into you, finding a punishing rhythm as he fucks you into the matterss. 

“Beg for it,” he growls, hand in your hair twisting in the strands. You can feel him all the way to your throat, stretched out so good, he presses right into your gspot like he was made for you. 

“P-please- hyuka i need it- i-” you cant even get the words out anymore, the squeaking of the bed building as he increases his speed. You can hear the wet sounds of the other boys jerking off, “i want your c-cum, i need it,” 

“Louder,” yeonjun mutters in front of you, your death grip on his hand not loosening anytime soon. 

“I want it! I need your cum, please!” But Huenings is so lost chasing his own high that he drops his hand from your clit to grab your hip, his bruising hold and brutal thrusts making you cry out. 

Beomgyu reaches down under you, fingers finding just the right rhythm to send you over the edge at the same time kai cums. His faltering thrusts and throaty moans makes you feel weak. Your cunt is strangling his cock, his release pushed as deep as he could get it into you. When he pulls out you collapse onto the bed, completely used up. 

It feels never ending body too tired already when you feel soobin climb into the bed. He lays right behind your exhausted form, both of you on your sides facing yeonjun, “look who's next, do you think you could get another one out of her? I hear you're only a freak in theory and not practice,” 

But soobin doesn't take the bait, one hand sliding under you and wrapping around your chest, hand coming up to cup your breast, fingers twisting your hard nipple, and the other lifting your leg to get better access to your leaking cunt. Your thighs are so sticky soobins fingers slip on his hold, having to tighten his grip to make sure he can keep you open. He's been ready since the start, his cock aching as it prods your now puffy swollen cunt, so used you're sure you would be sore for days. 

When he sinks in your whimpers are so soft they are hardly heard. Yeonjun is kneeling on the floor, arm holding the camera resting on the bed. He captures the way soobins dick slides in with ease, no resistance now with how much slick is coming out of you. Every drag of soobins cock comes away stained in white. A ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your skin with every thrust. 

His breathy moans are lost against your neck, pitiful little sounds before he's muttering, “im sorry, oh god- im-” 

“Don't you dare cum yet,” yeonjun warns soobin, who pauses his thrusts trying to listen but can't find it in him to restrain. Yeonjuns fingers pinch at your clit, your whole body reacting to the feeling, jolting you back to life as you cum. soobin unable to handle the pressure and is a complete mess, whimpering as he pulls you closer, hugging you as if he could merge bodies. 

It took him a while to finally pull out, a much needed break for only a few breaths before yeonjun passes the camera to taehyun to keep the filming going. You can feel the weakness all the way down to your bones, sure if you stand you could collapse to the floor, legs too weak to hold you up. But yeonjun is looking at you like you're being served on a silver platter, all done up with all the best fixings. 

“Best for last huh?” he grins climbing over you brushing under your eye to catch a single tear that's fallen from your overstimulation. “Its so fun to see you so dumb on cock, so unlike how we usually see you,” 

You hum in response as he pushes your legs open, hands at the back of your knees pushing them to your chest. When he puts them over his shoulders you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks into your wet heat. Bent in half you feel your toes curling, sure that if you came one more time you would be better off sleeping for the next year. “I think this is good practice, don't you?” he asks like you'll respond to him with anything other than a string of muffled whimpers. Your body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, sticking to his skin as he takes a slow pace. It's like he's apologizing, lips peppering across your cheek, down your neck. “We’ll keep you so happy, stuffed full like you deserve. Would you like that?” 

You're nodding, eyes closing as he uses you. You don't even notice the way your body is reacting, that slow rise of your next orgasm building up, “i-” you can’t think about cumming again already feeling so dumbed out. 

“Hum? Are you going to cum, pretty?” he picks up his pace, sinking his hips and hitting you right against your g spot. Your head rolls back as it washes over you, body tightening until you feel like you’ve combusted into little particles. “Oh look at that, so perfect for me, your pussy feels so good when it's squeezing me like this,” it's all he says before he’s trembling, a guttural moan taking over as he cums, you swear you can feel its warmth spreading throughout you. And when he pulls out he takes the camera back from taehyun focusing it in on the sight of all the combined release staining your folds. 

“Look at how she pushes it out,” beomgyu says, mesmerized by the way you look leaking so much cum. But it's Kai who leans down, fingers collecting anything he can before shoving all the cream right back into you. “Its almost like she wants us to fuck it right back in,” 

🏷taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 @tomorrowxforever r @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 @cypher-03 @midnight-mochii i @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 @yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae @nessaassen02 @iluvhyukaa @mrsjohnnysuh @wand3rlustm3

thank you so much to @beomiracles @prince-jjae and @thetxtdevil for beta/proofreading the first part of this fic!

[viasdreams]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

soobin as your loser bff !! (he want you so bad)

a/n: does this make me a loser since i just made him like all the things i like??? 😞 also bunny girl senpai being his fav anime will never not make me laugh

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ Me? Pegged?!

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

Pairing: college bf ! beomgyu x dom ! fem reader

Warnings: pegging, soft sex, sub beomgyu, dom reader, fluff, male masturbation, mentions of porn, anal fingering, use of strap on, hand job, hand holding during sex, beomgyu cries but bc he’s emotional lolol, use of petnames ‘puppy’, ‘baby’, gendered term, reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’ and afab, disgustingly fluffy

synopsis: your skeptical boyfriend gets pegged for the first time <3 To say the least he definitely enjoys it a lot more than he expected.

word count: 2.8k

“What? Like, in my ass?” Beomgyu, splutters eyebrows raised and asking in a hushed tone, looking cautiously left to right seemingly embarrassed. Although, you were a little confused what he was looking for, given you were both inside his dorm room…and the only people in there.

His demeanour, a total whiplash to a few moments prior when he had very proudly won the fighting game you both were playing together.

“Well, yeah in your ass.” You deadpan at him. “It’s called pegging. It’s just something I think could be fun for us to try and share together and I want to make you feel good! But it’s okay if you don’t want to-”

“No! I’ll-I can try. For you. I’ve just-I’ve never really thought of it before. It seems…intense...” Beomgyu looks down with a pout, fiddling with his thumbs, legs crossed on his bed.

“Gyu,” You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch almost instantly, looking back up at you, practically purring at the nickname and your gesture, “if you’re not comfortable with it we won’t. We don’t have to just because I want to. I just wanted to know your thoughts on it. ”

Beomgyu was always an open minded person when it came to sex, always down to try things at least once. Both of you were pretty compatible in that sense, easily bored when things were kept the same. You liked how experimental and open he was with you.

Beomgyu rubs at the back of his head and nods slowly, still looking skeptical. “I want to try it with you. I trust you. But, I just don’t think I’ll really find it that enjoyable though. I’ll think about it.”

Not that beomgyu would admit to you, but after the topic of pegging was brought up, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made a strange feeling pool in his stomach, unsure if it was a good or bad thing. Would it even feel good? What would it feel like? It’d probably feel weird right? And the thought of being so vulnerable was a little scary. He knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about with you but it still felt a little too daunting.

To say the least, beomgyu was curious, and many nights contemplating brought him to conduct his own research. Grabbing his laptop, the only light shining in his dark room at the ungodly hours of a thursday night, he went to the only place he knew would have some sort of answers—the internet and he began sheepishly typing into the search bar.

To his surprise, he came across many dudes enthusiastically raving about it on reddit and how it completely changed their view of life—he thinks some of them were being a little bit dramatic.

He also watched a few videos, for research purposes only. He stared at his screen, mouth agape and feeling a flush creep up his neck, cheeks growing increasingly heated at what he sees. Woah. Maybe. This might actually be….

He couldn’t help imagining you doing that to him instead, mind painting vivid pictures of you, imagining your hands on his hips and breath against his neck, being handled like that. It was strangely arousing.

Suddenly beomgyu was squirming in his bed, one hand hesitantly slipping down his grey sweatpants as he bit his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowed as he began embarrassedly and frantically jerking off his now red and hard dick to the thought of you pegging him.

Faster than he thought, beomgyu was cumming heaps with a hand slapped to his mouth to stop himself from loudly moaning out your name (the college walls were very thin. He knew from experience.) and completely making a mess, soiling his sweats with a muffled whimper instead.

He lay there gasping and panting flushed, left to ponder his actions and new found revelation. It was kind of hot? Or maybe it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing. He couldn’t actually find that hot, right?

Fuck.

There wasn’t much beomgyu kept from you, usually he’d be the one to talk your ear off about the most mundane, silliest things of his day as you both cuddled closely together. However, he’d purposefully failed to mention his recent porn search history and the fact that he’s been cumming a heck of a lot faster than he’d like to admit at the thought of his girlfriend fucking him in the ass.

It’s only made him more curious about whether he’d actually like it. There was only one way to find out and that was to just see for himself. So he knew he had to bring it up with you somehow again without sounding like a crazed freak.

You were studying in the library when beomgyu approached you, textbooks spread out in front of you as you furiously typed notes on your laptop. Beomgyu leans in to peck your cheek before taking a seat beside you and you looked up, lifting your headphones from your ears. “Oh you’re studying as well?”

Beomgyu gives you an incredulous look as if it was absolutely outrageous to suggest he’d be doing that. “Um no.” He clears his throat, trying to sound as nonchalant and cool as possible, “so, uh, remember that thing we talked about?”

You furrow your brows unsure of what he was talking about, but given how incredibly embarrassed he looked, you had an inkling of what it might be and you try not to laugh, heavily amused, accidentally saying it bit too loud, “Oh you mean pegging?”

He looks around frantically, eyes wide with panic as he tries to gauge if anyone else had heard, then he hits your arm and shoves you. “You don’t have to be so loud, my god.”

You can see the tips of his cute ears going pink as he shakes his head and rolls his eyes “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to,” chuckling softly, you put your hands up in defence so he wouldn’t shove you again.

Beomgyu just narrows his eyes at you and scoffs, “Yeah, so anyway. I was just thinking, you know, maybe we should actually... give it a try? I mean, if you're still interested," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So, you’ve been thinking about it?” you teased, leaning in closer. “What changed your mind?”

"Well, I've been doing some, uh, research," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "And, maybe it doesn't sound so bad after all. I mean, I’m not saying I’m dying to try it or anything. But, you know, I’m open to the idea. I guess.”

“Sure, sure,” you say giggling into your textbook. “You guess…”

Beomgyu flicks your forehead playfully, furrowing his brows. “Shut up.”

“Oww!” You rub your forehead soothingly, “We’ll try it soon then, yeah?”

He pretends to think about it, even though his excitement is barely contained. You could practically see his tail wagging and brown puppy eyes lighting up. “Yeah, we could do that.”

Today is the day beomgyu will finally get why a bunch of dudes from reddit are so into being pegged by their girlfriends. Unfortunately for beomgyu though, he was currently stuck in class, wanting more than ever to just be in your dorm, but he had to wait.

The professor's voice drones on, the words blending into a meaningless blur as Beomgyu stole glances at the clock every few seconds. Each tick seemed to echo in his head like a countdown to freedom, and he couldn't help but let out an impatient sigh, mind racing with thoughts of what awaited him once this torturous lecture finally ended.

Meanwhile, you were finding immense amusement in Beomgyu's predicament and you couldn’t help but send him teasing texts during his class to make him even more pathetically desperate.

Beomgyu's eyes widened as he read the message, his cheeks flushing red. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a groan of frustration. He typed back quickly, fingers fumbling with the keys.

Beom🧸🎸: This is pure evil ! You’re so mean :( 😞💔😪👎

You can’t help giggling, typing back a sarcastic response.

aww what a poor puppy. You’ll just have to wait.

Beom🧸🎸: why can’t I just skip bro🧍‍♂️

You tell him he’s not allowed to skip and that he has to sit through the entirety of it just to torture him some more. Beomgyu pouts, his bottom lip sticking out in a comically exaggerated manner at the text, earning a weird look from Soobin who sat next to him.

Finally, the professor dismisses the class, and Beomgyu practically leaped out his seat, gathering his notebook and laptop and shoving it in his bag in record time. He dashes out of the lecture hall, barely acknowledging soobin’s farewell. Beomgyu’s heart racing as he practically sprinted across campus to your dorm.

When he reached your door, he knocked eagerly, breathing heavily and you swung open the door.

Without a word, Beomgyu pulled you into a passionate kiss, his hands tangling in your hair as he pressed you against the doorframe. He couldn't wait any longer; the anticipation had built up to an almost unbearable level, and now that he was finally here with you, all he wanted was to feel close to you.

You chuckled softly against his lips, teasingly pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "Someone's eager," you run a hand through his tousled hair.

Beomgyu grins, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as he stares down at you with half lidded eyes. "Can you blame me? You’ve been torturing me!" He pouts, staring down at your lips before kissing you again.

You’ve been meticulously prepping beomgyu for god knows how long now, but you wanted to make absolute sure that he was stretched out well so you wouldn’t hurt him one bit.

His soft, breathy moans fill the room as your lubed fingers slide in and out of his cute, pink hole repeatedly. He seemed to like it so far, each gentle movement makes him cling tighter to the pink silk pillow pressed against his chest, hugging it with his eyes blissfully closed, legs spread wide as he lay on your bed.

“Do you think you’re ready, baby?”

He opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with a needy look, and cutely nods, taking a few deep breaths. “Yeah- please.. I want you noww..”

You give him a weary glance. “I don’t want to hurt you though.”

Beomgyu shakes his head softly, still hugging the pink silk pillow tightly, even if he’s a little nervous, he desperately wants to feel you. He swallows, looking directly into your eyes and whines. “I’ll be fine. pleasee”

Sighing, you step into the harness of the strap-on (you’d made sure to order the cutest and prettiest one you saw online), coating the silicone in generous amounts of lube before returning back to beomgyu on the bed.

You gently place his dainty ankles over your shoulders, kissing on his inner thighs and pretty white sock clad legs and ankles as you do so.

You can’t stop staring in awe. Heart swelling up at the sight of beomgyu, fluffy messy hair splayed around his face, long thick eyelashes kissing his rose dusted cheeks, slightly chewing at his plump bottom limp as he braces himself. He’s so precious. How fucking gorgeous this boy is.

You kiss his ankles a few more times, one hand going to his cute tummy that heaved and you slowly push the silicone cock into his now glistening from all the lube, swollen, puffy pink hole, ever so slowly easing in, inch by inch and bottoming out.

Beomgyu cries out, hiding his face instantly in his elbow and he arches his back, and mewls.

“You okay, puppy?”, you coo and gently move his arm out the way so you can look at his pretty face and parted lips, stilling your movements and softly brushing the bangs out his eyes.

Beomgyu shakily nods, trembling. “Mmh. m’ okay. You can keep going.”

Loud high pitched strangled moans escape his lips as you pick up the pace. It’s a new feeling and it takes him some time to get used to. Beomgyu was always loud and would make the prettiest moans ever anyway, but there was something so different at how he moaned right now, completely guttural and different to how they usually were. Even he was surprised, clamping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment but he just couldn’t stop the noises at all even if he tried, loud whines and whimpers continuing unabated. You loved them so much.

You watch his poor, neglected cock slap his tummy with every thrust, red and hard and dribbling beads at the head constantly. You take his dick in your hand, stroking it at the same movement and fucking him harder.

He gasps shuddering and writhing, his fingers curling into the sheets. "Oh... that feels...," he manages to say, interrupted by whines and moans, mouth in a cute ‘o’ shaped, completely dumb and fucked out by now he can barely think, and he moans your name over and over. A cascade of mewls spilling from his lips, a sweet symphony that fills the room.

You lean down to press his swollen lips with yours, moving your mouth against him so messily and needy, making out with him so intensely as you carried on fucking his hole. You’re sure you’re hitting his prostate by now.

Beomgyu disconnects from your lips to pant, a string of saliva connecting from his and your mouth and reaches his hand out to yours “Hold…” He whimpers out, eyebrows furrowed and you gladly grab his hand, intertwining your hand with his and holding hands as you peg him, anchoring him. Your other free hand still continuing your ministrations on his cock, kissing him again. It seems you’ve pegged him completely into subspace.

"gonna cum soon... I can'ttt... it's too much!” Beomgyu chokes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he completely shakes.

You suddenly heard choked sobs and sniffling coming from beomgyu. Alarmed, you paused for a moment, worried that maybe you had hurt him. His face was buried in the pillow, and his shoulders were trembling with each shaky breath.

“Beomgyu, are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern. You gently eased back, not wanting to cause him any discomfort.

He turned his head to look at you, and your heart ached at the sight before you. His glossy, brown doe eyes were filled with tears, eyelashes clumped together and his bottom lip was jutting out in a pout, making him look devastatingly beautiful, tears streaming down his red cheeks and his hair tousled and damp with sweat. He was such a pretty crier.

“I-I’m okay,” voice trembling with the intensity of his feelings. “It’s just... it feels so good. I love you so much.” His tears flowed freely now, each sob wracking his body. You were surprised at how emotional beomgyu had gotten.

You lean down to kiss away his tears, cupping his hot cheeks, “You’re doing so good for me, gyu. I love you too.”

Beomgyu grasps your hand even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he clings to you so close. His head falls back with every thrust, and he throws his head back as you continue to hit his prostate repeatedly again and again, making him go cross eyed and his jaw slack.

He spurts a copious amount of cum from his cock, making such a mess on the sheets, your hand, and his tummy, cumming so hard his vision goes blurry, and he feels dizzy, his legs shaking uncontrollably. His eyes flutter open and shut, gasping and panting heavily. You pull out and collapse beside him, both of you utterly exhausted.

Beomgyu can conclude, the guys on reddit were so right.

Beomgyu doesn’t let go of you at all afterwards, burying his face in your chest and wrapping his legs and arms around you, clinging to you like a koala contently, breath warm against your skin as you kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t feel my legs.” Beomgyu whines, “Please never mention the crying ever again okay?” He muffles out. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know. Can’t have everyone thinking I’m a crybaby.”

You chuckle, stroking and playing with his soft hair which he loves so much, humming softly at the feeling of your hands on his scalp. “I thought it was very cute.”

He doesn’t say anything and a moment of silence ensues.

“Thank you, baby.” he says gently and quietly, “I’d be eating you out so good right now if I wasn’t so exhausted.” a tired but cheeky grin spreading across his face.

Within seconds, beomgyu was out like a light, his soft snores filling the quiet room, looking so cute absolutely knocked out in your arms.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: guys im sorry if this was the shittest thing I’ve ever written. I was really trying !! But I’m Just very out of practice at writing atm 😭 im very sorry if the smut is the most messiest thing you’ve ever read, I have not proofread it at all I have no idea what I was writing. So I’m very sorry

[hyukascampfire]

𝓐T 𝓢WA𝓝 𝓛AKE ﹐､﹒ c.bg ˏˋ੭ꠥ ¸ˎ

as both equals and opposites, white swan and black swan, it is paramount that you and choi beomgyu do not touch. the curse of your natures did not even make exception for incidental brushes. that was never an issue for you—not until the day the prince took it upon himself to break every rule you’d ever known. ⋆˛ ˛

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

⸉⋆ ᧔ 🦢᧓ ･ 10.3k

𝒫airings ˒ black swan prince!beomgyu 𝓍 white swan princess!reader

𝒢 ‎⍪ smut ˒ fantasy ˒ forbidden romance

𝒲arnings ˒ smut, angst and longing, unprotected sex, lots of teasing, jealousy…, yearning and yearning, he cums on her, theyre both desperate, pathetically in love!beomgyu, shes all he wants, virgin!reader, loss of innocence, he talks her through it, he gets a little whiny… hmm i can’t remember if i’m missing anything. this is not proofread!! i’m gonna nap first.

✎୭ ashlynn's note @hmusunoo … baby you did your big one with this. i can not explain to you how excited i’ve been for this one. this is absolutely my favorite. it’s just so me, u know me so well and i think we should kiss. THANK U!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Around you, mist and delicate flurries sit over white, fluffy blankets. Where it sits over the lake, it turns the horizon of the lake’s expanse into an obscured uncertainty. If you hadn’t spent so much time right here, you might think that it goes on forever. 

It’s a beautiful, clear winter’s morning. Sparkling air wraps you in sweet and crisp tendrils, every breath to your lungs almost bitingly fresh. But in all its lightness, your chest only feels heavier. You had hoped that coming here would be a little, momentary respite. The air is so free around you, though, the weight doesn’t float away with it—it just leaves nothing but the feeling for you to contend with. No skittish wildlife rustle the foliage, and a thin film holds the crystalline lake from lapping at the bank. It seems that not even the wind moves. Just you.  

It’s not your tears that you hide here. Sadness is a soft, gentle thing; an acceptable thing for a Lady like yourself to indulge in. It’s what the people expect of their princess. The demure and always prim White Swan. Always correct, always just how you should be. 

Your tears are more like scalding, molten licks of fire than the slow, darling tears that are expected of you, though. They’re angry. It clashes up against the walls you’ve built up within yourself, against the role you’ve assumed. 

That’s why you’ve come here. Coarser emotions are unbecoming of you, and it’d be a shame to feel them in front of others. It’s a shame that you’re letting yourself feel it now, even. You summon a thin sigh, funneling up all the tangy bitterness on your tongue to let it fall out into the air before you. 

It doesn’t do much for you, really. This—feeling like this, so beyond the reach of your usual ways to shove down ugliness—is unfamiliar. Your entire life has been this, why do you struggle with it now? In the center of you, mingling with that anger, it’s as though a blackness blooms. Like a wretched flowering of some invasive plume, or perhaps the floating of inky black feathers through your bloodstream, you feel painted dark and unpleasant. 

Holding the dappled fur of your shawl closer, you decide to watch chunks of crystal white ice float on the water’s surface. Or maybe the on-and-off snowflakes that float down around you. Even tracing the lengths of barren branches, lined with white fluff so still and serene, with your eyes. Anything but delving into what that tainted tug inside is, or what it might mean about you.  

Snow crunches, or maybe a branch shifting, beckons your attention. But the foliage isn’t too thick, and trees are sparse around the lake, and there is always some small winged creature fluttering between branches out here. So, you brush it off. 

A tingling about your person, some sort of whispering premonition, whisps and tugs just around your form. You straighten up at another thick step crunching in the snow from behind you. This time, you can’t explain it away.  

A figure greets you. Dark, raven strands of silken hair fallen over eyes of the same, his skin so stark against it, black shoulder cloak on his shoulder flowing like velvet water against his billowing sleeves all ruffled and enamoring. He glitters like the frost, twinkling silver threads and black crystals sewn in to catch the light and make a show of him. Standing there, looking at you, he doesn’t look caught or frozen. 

But you are. Wholly still, all of you like a sculpture of frost, you gawk right at him. You’d never interacted with the prince, the black swan. Never even seen him. It was never in the cards. Fear like ice curls clawed fingers over your heart and grasps it.  

All your life, grand warnings of terrible things of him and what might happen should the two of you ever touch fell from the mouths of those around you. It was the constitution of who the two of you are—born to be the balance to each other, never to touch. Just an incidental brushing of fingers meant turning the world’s balance over on its head. They told you that the world would begin to fray at the seams, reality would warp, and that it’d be all your fault. And they also told you plenty about who the prince was as a person, too. Not only do you fear him for the curse of your nature, but also for all the nasty things you’ve heard of him. This, meeting him, was a thing of your deepest-cutting nightmares. 

And, there, he stands in front of you. 

“What are you doing out here crying?” Beomgyu says, curious eyes darting over your face. Under his gaze, you’re not sure how to feel. But you feel every last bit of it, regardless. 

You wipe at your cheek, where he must’ve seen the wet streaks glistening in the light. Summoning some poise up from where you keep it in handy, you say, “It’s no matter. I was just looking out on the snow.” You fix up your hair and your dress.  

The prince frowns, studying your face once again. Utterly unconvinced by what he finds there, he gestures toward you. “You’ve been crying, princess,” he says. “I didn’t think that lying was in the cards for you.” 

Lying? Not in the cards for you? Lying is all you do. You lie to yourself and to others more than you are honest. “Maybe, but I’m well,” you say, and then you lift the soft skirts of your dress to step without treading it in the snow. “Really, I ought to get home before the snowfall gets heavier. It was lovely seeing you.” You try and make sure to keep a good and proper distance from him as you make for where you arrived here from. 

Beomgyu reaches out for you, only pulling back from grabbing your arm at a frighteningly slim realization. “Wait,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he realizes what he’d almost just done. “You don’t have to leave. Why is it that you cry?” 

He’d almost touched you. That close—you’d come that close to tragedy in only the first moments of your meeting. Your heart pumps out sizzling, frantic energy that has you looking at him wide-eyed and shaken. “I think you and I both are the most aware why it’s best that I leave,” you tell him, keeping it curt. You hold your arms to you.  

Strong brows knitting, he shakes his head and takes some big steps back. The snow, sat powdery and calf-high on the ground, creaks beneath them. “I’ll stay back here,” he says. “Just don’t go. Won’t you entertain me? It’s a gentleman’s duty to help a weeping Lady.” 

You falter. The words might have you blushing and offering him a modest thank you, but the way he says it—it’s rather taunting. It’s taunting in a way that gets right up under your skin and ruffles your feathers. “And why does it bother you so?” you ask him, arching a dainty brow. You’re not even sure why he’s come out here in the first place. This is the one place that you ordain your own. It seems that not even here can you be totally alone. “They’ll have a fit if they know I was here with you.” 

The prince, with his clear, ethereal features cracking into a wicked amusement that you’re not sure how to digest, says, “Perhaps they will.” He tilts his head at you, wispy strands of hair moving over his shadowed eyes with it. “But, princess, that’s the fun in it. That they will admonish you for it. Is that why you’re crying?” 

Fun? Nothing about what your people, your parents, might do should they find that you’d not only been near but spoken to the black swan, is fun. You level him wary eyes. And, though sense tugs at your feet and asks you to get going, you do not. You do not know why. 

“I think it is.” He’s got an obnoxious tilt to his lips. “I think that’s why you cry.” 

A scoff, an abrasive and distasteful sound coming from you, falls out from your mouth. There’s that awful imprudence and temerity that you’ve heard of the black swan—everything you ought not to be. “You seem the type to know everything,” you say. 

He laughs, delighted. “Is that snark?” 

Pursing your lips as though confused, you spin spiced threads of patronization into your voice. “Not snark,” you say. “Just an observation.” 

 “Hmm.” Beomgyu slides his hands into his pockets to warm his hands. “Might I make an observation about you, princess?” 

There’s interest written all over his face—you know he’s playing some sort of game. You also know that you shouldn’t indulge him in it. Still, you do. A slight raising of your brow, or maybe the interest twinkling in your eyes, too, tells him to go on. 

“I think that you are too dutiful for your own good,” he says.  

In a slight, testy step, he inches closer. Not so close that you worry, but the two of you are not even supposed to be in the same room. Anything is too close. You mirror it with a step back. “You don’t know me,” you say. Against your better judgement, though, your lips twitch into a soft smile. The kind of smile that is insistent, no matter how you refuse it. “So, I believe your wonderings to be entirely groundless.” 

Hair blowing gently in the wisps of a winter wind and his nose and cheeks gone pink, he says, “Oh, princess. Hardly. I think we know a great deal about each other.” 

Well, that’s true enough. All your life you heard of him and your curse. You’re sure it was no different for him, no matter your differences. “And what do you know about me?” you ask.  

Beomgyu’s laugh falls out in a white puff of curling frost. “I know it’s been arranged that you’ll marry a superior Lord,” he says. He observes you. “Am I right?” 

So fast, just with that, lightness falls from your face. You hadn’t wanted to be reminded. Your feet itch to be off, so that you can feel it elsewhere. Not here; not in front of him. Leveling yourself so that your voice doesn’t come out as stilted as you feel, you say, “Yeah. You are.” 

With his eyes narrowing on you, he says, “You know, it’s weird. I’ve never seen a girl excited to be wedded look like that when it’s brought up.” 

You reign in your face and shake your head. “I am perfectly excited. It’s a blessing to be married into such a family.” As much as you smooth over the furrowing of your brows, or make your expression pleasant, it’s not so easy to tame the picking of your fingers. 

Anything other than excited, you might be. But absolutely not that. In fact, you are beyond yourself with anger, and you have nowhere to go with it. It bubbles hot just under your skin and demands a release that you cannot give. 

Being who you are, it’s been a truth you’ve known your whole life. Someday, you were going to be offered like a shiny, silver pawn to the highest bidder. And you, as the world’s white swan, are quite the enticing thing to own. You thought you’d banished the hope for a union of love right where you’d left the sense of self behind: years ago. The time’s come now, but you aren’t as at peace with it as you should be. No matter how hard you try, you are more human than you’d like to be, and far too human to be what the world expects you to be. 

If you’re going to be frank with yourself: you do not want to marry him. Living as something bought, expected to live forever as this mellowed out, poised version of yourself by the side of some man who you don’t even know or love... Of any fate you might be made to live, you think that this one is the worst. 

Beomgyu begins working on taking off his jacket, a white and pretty thing with thick, winter fabric. He offers it to you. “You don’t have to lie to me about it. Maybe them, but not me.” 

You look between him and his offering hand—his perfect features that are so elegant, and yet, there’s a wildness to him in those hard black eyes. If you didn’t already know so much about him, you might still be able to see the untamed in him. Who couldn’t? He wears it plainly; without remorse. You’re not sure how to interact with it, but, in a way, you envy him. 

Reaching out, you accept the jacket from his hand. Tentatively, with great care so as to avoid touch, but you do.  

It’s nice and soft against your frost-kissed shoulders. But it’s not enough to fix the bite against the skin on your face, so you trudge through the snow over to the sparse tree line, where the trunks might protect you better from it than the flat expanse of the lake’s surface. You press your back to a tree, and he mirrors it on the tree opposite to you. Looking over the great lake, so very serene. It twinkles with an ice film like sugar crystals atop its surface. “I guess I’m just... scared,” you say. The words come out soft and uncertain. 

He nods. Listening. So, you continue. “I don’t even know him. I haven’t spoken to my betrothed once. Maybe I’ll get to know him, and maybe he won’t be bad, but...” 

“But he’s not who you want,” Beomgyu says. “Not who you love.” 

Licking your winter-chapped lips, you eye him for a moment. You nod slowly and say, “...Yeah. I suppose it’s selfish, but...” 

Ignited, Beomgyu pushes off the tree to say, “Selfish? You give your whole life to being their saint. Maybe they think they do, but they don’t own you.” 

You, not us. Frowning, you ask him, “Are you not set for some marriage of convenience?” Marrying is different as a woman, but you don’t doubt that the prince’s family intends to strengthen alliances by offering his marriage up to some optimistic, lesser family with a daughter to bargain the way yours has done with you. Every last girl and boy born as you two have been—destined to a life bigger than yourself, a force in the world as much as you are a person—have lived just the same. All of them. Each incarnation of the white swan, and you’re sure every black swan too. The people of this world paint you as embodiments of balance and life, but use you more like power plays. Even your own parents. You were born from your mother all the same as all your siblings, but as much as it aches to admit it, you are not their child. In the back of your throat, hurt and bare anger wells up thick. 

He half laughs, half scoffs. “They could try. It doesn’t matter to me. They’d have to kill me before I do their bidding. Is it our fault that we were born this?” he says. “I’m going to live my life how I want, no matter what.” 

You tuck your hands into your sides, where they warm between the jacket and your body heat. His words and how he looks at your lives, it’s everything you’re not. Sense of self and determination to live for more than just your predetermined role—while you’d surrendered it all, he lives thrashing and fighting against it. A product of your mirrored and opposite natures.  

“Why?” you say, teeth chattering a bit under the cold’s caress. “You have a girl in mind?” 

That sounds nice. Being so hopefully devoted to someone, and them to you, that you might war against destiny for it. The thought only nurses hurt somewhere deep in your chest, though. Not for you. Never for you. You could be the prettiest on this Earth, the kindest, the most disciplined, or the least even. Still, that would never be yours. You know that, so why does it taste so bitter?  

A quick look, something new, passes over him. In his eyes, you see it. He looks at you for a long minute, the morning so quiet that nothing but tranquility hangs in the air for a moment, and then finally says, “Yeah. Something like that.”  

Entirely intrigued, you ask, “Who? Is she a Lady?” 

Beomgyu nods his head, that strange look lingering. “Of sorts,” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest to lean back into the bark. “And your betrothed? Some well-off Lord?” 

A smile ghosts over your mouth. “Probably. I haven’t a clue who it is; but I’m sure he’s got enough coin to spare, if my parents settled on him.” 

The lines of his face gone playful, he says, “Not possibly more well-off than me.” 

Your nose crinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say. A husband with money is nice. You can’t pretend that you don’t think of that, especially that none of your family’s wealth belongs to you, nor will it follow you into your marriage. Your heart revolts regardless.  

Shrugging after a few beats of silent considering, he turns his attention on the lake. His face turned like that, you admire the straight slope of his nose and his eyelashes as they flutter with his heavy eyes. Like the rest of him, his side profile is a contradiction. Strong and noble, but elegant like hewn from marble. It’s perfect. With all the talk in your ears, you’d pictured something far off from the youthful, wry man stood before you. Why you’d come to imagine him brutish, you’re not sure; he’s as much swan as you. Different and mirrored all the same. 

“I used to come here all the time,” he says. 

“Here? To the lake?” You perk up. This had been your hideaway as a girl; where you’d come at times like this when you needed to bury something away. You thought it’d been just yours. “I wonder how we never ran into each other. I used to do the same. I guess, I still do.” 

When his eyes fall back on you, they’re softer. More deep brown than black, but maybe it’s because you’re closer now. He says, “Well, I came here once or twice on my own, maybe when I was five. I didn’t really start coming back until I saw you. You were crying, all snotty, and throwing bread out for some ducks.” 

Your face twists up, maybe at the memory or maybe with confusion. It seems like if he’d really come here so often, and had even seen you here, you’d have noticed. “You must have thought I was weird,” you say, the words coming out around a shiver.  

“Maybe,” he says through a wry smile that’s cracked over his lips. “But mostly, I just wished I could talk to you.” 

He’d watched you, because he couldn’t approach you? You were under the impression that the prince had never cared for the rules, not even one so paramount as that. But, it seems that his brashness came to him later. He stands in front of you now, doesn’t he? Maybe it was just that innocent trust that, as children, you levy out to those arounds you. Especially toward adults; and all of those had preached over moments like this. You imagine a young, curious Beomgyu, hiding himself away between bushes, itching to approach or play with you. But he never did; you hadn’t the slightest clue he’d even been there until now. Could you two have been friends, if not for the curse? 

“You never came out,” you say. “Or introduced yourself?” It’s all you can really think. 

His mouth twitches. “Would you have stayed?” 

No. Then, you don’t think you would’ve. Even now, you’re stricken with the innate fear of touching him, no matter how surprised you are at how different he is. Different from what they said he’d be. You think you would’ve darted, should you have known who he was. For some reason, that makes your heart ache. A dark ebbing wave of ache that you are unfamiliar with. 

A slight knowing smile danced over his features, eyes gone to sweet crescents that turn them, usually so dark, into something rounded. Not so abrasive. He tilts his head off to one side and says, “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?” 

Cheeks long been numb, you answer, “An hour. Maybe and a half?” 

“I’ll walk you home.” 

You grimace. Arriving with him by your side, the man you quite literally were not supposed to even speak with, is the very last thing you should do. An awful idea. “I wouldn’t bother you. It’s probably not the best idea to show up after disappearing, with a man by my side. Especially not as a to-be-married woman,” you say. “But, thank you. Really.” 

He knows what you really mean, though. A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Alright,” he says. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

As he begins to turn, making for wherever he’d come here from, you call out to him. “Hey, wait. Your jacket.” You pull it off your shoulders and joust it out at him. Against your skin which it had warmed, the air is bitterly cold. 

“Keep it, princess,” he says, giving you a parting nod. “Get home warm.” 

Today, you are to give your hand to a man that you do not know.

In the air, the rich nuttiness of fire-toasted chestnuts dance and mingle with the roar of chatter. Hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces line long tables with runners decorated by platters of plump, sugar-dusted plums and fruit pies. They’ve all come in their winter’s best—whites and reds and luxurious furs lining thick, velvety fabrics or embroidered with sparkling threads and studded with crystals that twinkle in the low firelight. It’s warm and lovely and all just for you. 

But, you don��t feel any of that. All you feel is a heavy belly. Each smile you tug over your mouth feels like dead weight. You’re familiar with this—putting on the act. Smiling in faces that you know will turn around and have something else to say about you, pretending like you don’t know that it’s all false sweetness. You’d been trained in noble propriety since you could walk and talk. 

But, considering that they’ve all come here to shower you with gifts and lovely words for a marriage in which they could really not care about beyond how they make it a profit, it’s all a bit more sour. 

You’ve met your promised. The man you’re supposed to wed and spend the entirety of your life beside. You spoke with him for... what, two minutes? Two very awkward, very awful minutes. What should you have to say to each other? You’re meeting for the first time today. At your engagement feast. It’s a real conscious effort to not take your lip into your mouth and gnaw, or to not fuss over your hair, or honestly anything that might show these people that you are anything but pleased. 

So, you relent to their gaudy pleasantries. You listen to them tell you that it’s such a blessing to be married to a man of high society—and a wealthy one, too. They tell you that they knew your marriage would bring a great dowry; that all the white swans have. That they were watching and expecting it. All you hear is the dripping of greed; all you see is hungry eyes and fingers crossed behind backs. 

You relent to it until your stomach is sick and wrought with it. And then, the older lady ahead of you singing praises of your beauty, of how she wishes her daughter might catch the eye of a husband as advantageous as yours, does something out of the ordinary. Her eyes drift behind you, her snooty, pinched features twisting up into something new. You follow her gaze. 

Dark and beautiful and his eyes trained right on you, the black swan prince stands beside you. He’s lazed, a heavy cup of some thick, spiced and wintery drink in one hand, as he does. In the clear light of morning, he’d looked so out of place. But here, soft and hard planes of his face illustrated by the flickering orange firelight, he looks so right. 

You blink. And then blink again. Never once had Beomgyu made any sort of appearance at any hosted thing by your family. You just stand in place for a moment, registering his presence.

“You look lovely, princess,” he says. His eyes fall up and down you. The way he says it—it’s liquid smooth, but it’s taunting in a way. “The perfect image of a bride-to-be.”

He can’t be here. He can’t be here at all. When you look to the side, the woman is already gone. You have no doubt in your mind that she’s whispering in somebody’s ear right now.

“Prince,” you say, gritting your teeth while also dipping into an elegant curtsy. 

“Do you feel that way?” He raises his eyebrows at you, his gaze heavy with underlying tension. “A perfect bride? Happy?”

Making the conscious decision to not look around you, because you can already feel the burning interest of the eyes that you’ll find on you, you say, “I do. Isn’t this quite the feast?”

“I told you that you don’t have to lie to me, princess.”

You shouldn’t even be standing here talking to him. They’re all watching. Stepping back to cut conversation with something witty, you stop in the onslaught of a chorus of surrounding gasps.

Beomgyu had reached out to grab you, and only stopped himself short the same way he had the first time you met him. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he brings his hand down, curling the fingers as if to wash away the urge to reach out.

He’s closer now, too. His breath smells sickly sweet with the liqueur he drinks. A sarcastic grin over his lips, he says, “Did he pay for all this?”

You do a dance of give and take. You step back, and he meets it with a step toward you, all the way until you find yourselves in a quieter corner. “He did sponsor the feast, yes.”

“Well, isn’t that just great,” he says, voice carrying over the many layered sounds of the gathering. “And that makes you happy? You feel fulfilled by that? Is that the purpose of the lovely white swan?”

You’re not sure what he’s getting at, or why your marriage is any of his business. For some reason, though, despite those rational thoughts, some faraway memory whispers that it makes every bit of sense. “He is a lovely man.”

Barking a laugh, Beomgyu says, “Don’t make me laugh. You don’t believe that, no matter how many times you tell it to yourself.”

You curl your fingers into the obnoxious, glittering material of your dress. “Seriously, what makes you so sure?” you say. “What makes you so sure you know? This is good for me. This is the way things are supposed to go. Not everybody in this world can get away with serving only themselves and doing whatever they want. Maybe it works for you, but not for the rest of us. I’m glad your life is fun, though. Really.” 

His face doesn’t sharpen into offence, though you brace for him to. You’ve never spoken to anybody like that. Ever. Shaking his head, raven locks glowing warm around the edges, he says, “Because I know. I know. Are you listening to me? You don’t have to lie to me.”

Balking at him, you don’t know how to answer. That was nowhere near the answer you were expecting from the prince, known and notorious for his chaos and fire.

“I am listening,” you say, keeping your voice measured. Thick emotion slips through the seams. “Honesty has never done me any good. This is going to happen; all honesty is going to do is hurt me. So, I’m sorry.”

His mouth opens to fire something back, but you don’t hear it. Somebody digs their fingers into your upper arm, dragging you without a word away from your conversation. You stumble, letting them take you without a fuss. This was to be expected. You shouldn’t look back. If today was already going to be the last day you ever see him, it certainly is now that you’ve been caught not only in touching distance to him, but making conversation with him.

Tossing a self-betraying glace over your shoulder, you find his figure. Hand in pocket and his lips turned down, he watches you go.

You wish you wouldn’t have. You have no explanation for the emptiness it casts into your chest.

Recently, you’ve been crying so much. You might believe that it’s because you’ve been letting yourself feel freely, but you don’t feel free.

Your palms are soaked against your cheeks, face fallen into them as you shudder with it. Their words pin and scrape in your head, forcing you to contend with them before bouncing off the walls and you hear them again and again until your stomach has gone sick. Your parents had given you an earful. That’s been your whole life; you can handle that. The moment you saw him there, intending to speak to you, you’d prepared for it. Instead, it was their contempt and sneering faces that bleed your heart like this. 

In this life, you are alone. Totally, wholly alone. Who you are—your role in life—is not the blessing they claim it to be. Is it selfish to ask to be understood? For somebody to just understand, without your pleading or begging?

Maybe. It feels that way, anyway.

“Why is it that I always find you crying?”

His voice freezes you to where you sit sprawled on your floor. Spinning to him, you say, “What are you doing?”

Beomgyu shrugs, as though he hasn’t snuck his way into your room. “I felt bad for getting you dragged off. Wanted to come see how you’re doing.”

Maybe his insisting on being around you should be annoying, but right now… You think you appreciate the company, even from the forbidden likes of him. “You can’t be here,” you hiss. “How did you get in? They’ll… if they find you here…”

His boots squeak against the polished flooring as he approaches you, and then settles down on the floor with you. The fire flickering behind him, his back to it, casts an orange light around the edges of his figure. He looks terribly inviting, like this: strewn on the floor, no holier or better than you, his face not sickly sweet nor cold and devoid of love, and his eyes curious to know how you feel. 

“I don’t care what they’ll do to me. I want to see you.” He tugs his jacket off, letting it fall on the dirty floor. Improper for a prince, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. That’s who he’s always been—that’s the one thing that was entirely true out of all the things you heard about him. “Who the hell cares about their approval? We don’t need it.”

You know what he means by they and we. Only a few days ago, you’d still believed that Beomgyu was other; that he was your total opposite, and that you should fear his darkness for all your lightness. All it’s taken is being around him the once or twice that you’ve been able to for you to realize the falsity that drips from that. When you’re around him, your soul, feathery and wispy in your chest and your veins and all the rest of you that constitutes you beyond what is physical, tugs. It’s impossible to ignore—it consumes you. Where your soul longs for him around the edges, like torn and searching for what’s been lost, you feel stuff that is beyond yourself.

Rather than your opposite, you think that Beomgyu is your other half. You think that they’ve gotten it all wrong. 

“How do you do it?” you say, back up against a white, whorling table leg. “How do you not care? I don’t understand.”

Inky eyes shining, he says, “I did. When I was young, I believed everything they told me. It’s hard not to, when it’s all you hear. Them, telling us that our purpose is to surrender ourselves to be something Saint-like. But when you catch one lie, you begin to catch the others, too. I saw their excuses and reasonings peel. Princess, it’s all lies. Everything you know is lies.” He says it with such conviction. Each and every word reaches down into that part of yourself that is missing something. “We’re not their Saints. That’s never been our purpose. I hate that shit; I hate that they’ve made you think that this is all you’re for. Marrying him? Never doing anything, because you’re scared of what it’ll mean for you? It’s not fucking fair.” He pushes himself closer to you. Now, your criss crossed knees are so close that a stray move might mean the world’s end. This time, you don’t panic. There’s no room for that among the swarm of your other thoughts. “So, of course I don’t give a shit about what they tell me to do. I’m going to live this life the way that it’s supposed to be. I wish that you could join me.”

“This life?” you blurt. It’s the one thought that appears clear to you, so it’s what comes out. Frowning, you add, “What lies?”

Deadpanned and as though he’s not delivering something that changes the world’s fabric around you, Beomgyu says, “There is no curse. There’s never been a curse.”

Your room is silent for a few moments, and then you shake your head and laugh. “How would you know that?” you say, nose wrinkling. If you don’t laugh, you’ll begin to actually consider the possibility of that. Just the very surface of the notion makes you nauseous. You couldn’t handle exploring the thought deeper. 

Beomgyu doesn’t laugh along with you. “The curse is a lie, and everything that comes with it. All of it is just excuses or justification for the hate for the other people. The whole reason that they ever decided on it was because of their hate. Maybe to the people alive now, it’s not a lie. But that’s what it started as.” His face, dark and soft as he reads your face, twists up. “Of course, we can touch. We are two halves of a whole. There is you in me, and I in you. Do you not feel it? The tug? That’s it. The black swan and the white swan were never meant to be apart and opposite. We are meant to be together. We’re meant to be the only ones that understand each other. It’s us against the world, princess.”

Your ears ring with the pierce of each word cascading out from his mouth. “Beomgyu, I don’t understand. That doesn’t… Make sense. How?” He can’t just make claims about that. Not something like this. It’s not fair.

“I know it’s hard to believe, princess. It’s all you’re ever made to believe. But you have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

Tongue darting out to wet your lips and your fingers stilling where you fuss at the fabric of your chemise, you take a good look at him. Roaming over his features, the contradiction in them and the strange familiarity that constitutes him no matter the fact that you’ve only just met, you consider it. Everything he says is absurd, and it does go against everything you’ve ever known. You should turn your nose up at him for even suggesting it; should suspect that he only has some sort of plan to coax you into bringing the world’s end.

But, you do. You trust him beyond explanation, as though intrinsically.

You nod slowly, holding his eyes in yours. “But I don’t understand,” you say. “How do you know?”

He smiles ruefully. “I saw something—had a dream when I was young. I saw us, in every last lifetime. We have lived again and again, as we are, in so many different ways. But the one thing that was always there was that they couldn’t keep us away from each other.”

The world does a few spins around you. Lightheaded, you try to stay up under the oppressive gravity of that. You want to stick your head in the ground and shake your head and yell no, but that deep tugging that has plagued you beginning the moment you’d met him, and all the emptiness before it, tells you yes. 

How poetic is that? How tragic? You, two souls born to be one, made to live apart at the interests of the world around you. Made to do it across every lifetime, and yet, in each you meet. In each, the twinkling thread of fate prevails nevertheless. 

“Do they all love?”

That soft smile still playing on his lips, his cheek to his knee as he looks at you with the veneration of somebody who might’ve loved you in a thousand lifetimes before, and perhaps in this one, too. “No. Some of us were secret lovers, but so many of those lived how you do for the entirety of their life. Halved,” he says. “And never did any of them touch.”

Heart fluttering with wings in your chest, you say, “So, how do you know that the curse is a lie? If it’s never been done before?”

“Let me show you,” he says. “That I can touch you.”

All the blood in your body pulls back. You trust him; you do. But is trust enough to risk a touch that could be the end of the world? Is trust enough to be so selfish to do so? 

Seeing you blanch, Beomgyu’s eyes go glassy. “Please,” he says, voice breaking as if to touch you might mean more than just proving something to you. As if the weight of everything he’s ever wanted rests on the back of it working—that if this works, and the world does not fall apart around you, then he can love you how he does, and how he had so many times before. Inevitably. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Beomgyu,” you say, looking between his eyes and the twitch of his hand as it itches to touch you. “I don’t… I’m scared.” Your voice drops to nothing more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he says, bringing that longing hand up. Your heart jumps when he raises up by your face. “You can be selfish this once. I want to see you do something because you want to, not because it’s what you think others might want.”

Your throat burns and tightens. Every last sparkling bit of your being longs to lean into his touch—to do what you two have wanted to do so many times before, and finally bring your souls back together. “What if it happens?” you ask, your eyes soft and true like an animal turning its soft underbelly to receive affection.

“Then let it,” he says. “At least we would have touched. Just this once.”

Gritting your teeth and swallowing hard, your belly does itself up into knots. You don’t answer him, but your quiet speaks enough. His hand hovers beside your face with the weight of the world in it.

The first touch of the white swan and the black swan happens in a gentle cupping of your cheek. And, the world does fall down around you. The walls melt, air leaves, and the seams of everything that’s even been good or true are ripped out and sewn with something new and beautiful. It’s as explosive and cosmic as you imagined it, but it is not terrifying. It’s lovely.

Your breaths shudder, your lungs trembling as you look into his eyes and realize what this means.

“Fuck,” is all Beomgyu breathes. It looks as though that it’s all he can manage. His touch grows more solid as the both of you realize that the both of you are still very much here, and so is the world. Thumb pad grazing over the softness of your cheek, his throat bobs with a swallow. You think that if you were to press your hand over his chest, you might feel it thudding there to the same thunderous rhythm that yours beats to.

So, you do. Because you can touch him. His heart sings beneath your palm, even through fabric and flesh. You can’t help the wobbling of your lip and the hot tears that spill out past your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The second touching is the bringing together of your lips. His mouth is soft and hard against yours, contradictory as the rest of him. He brings his other hand up to hold your face into his kiss. It’s not sweet and slow—it’s as ground-rumbling as the kiss between intertwined souls coming together after an eternity of being away. Each nip and lick and clash of teeth are like the claps of thunder of the storm that will end the world, his hand sliding up the back of your neck to card his fingers through the hair at the back of your head like the claws of a beast sent to ensure its end.

And, maybe Beomgyu is the beast that has come to end the world. You wonder how he’d waited so long to bring the truth to you, or if he was torn about ever telling you. What changed things, after so many years of him watching you from afar? Your engagement? Perhaps that’s what that drink in his hand had been: a thing to forget with.

It hadn’t worked. As he kisses you for all the lifetimes in which you couldn’t, you know that he couldn’t have accepted that and moved on. Of all the black swans that have lived and passed, Beomgyu must be the most stubborn and strong-willed. That’s why, out of every single life, this is the first that you touch. He would take the world on, or play with the existence of it, for this. Just for you. All for you—you’d found somebody who will do something just for you. Curling your fingers into the front of his tunic just over his chest, you pour the fire of that revelation into your kiss.

He roams his hands all over you, mapping your shape. You kiss and kiss, lips tugging and twisting against each other, and still it isn’t enough. Bracing a splayed palm over your lower back, he does not stop kissing you even as he lays you back onto the ground. The flooring is cold against your burning body. He supports his weight on one hand beside your head and straddles your hips to do nothing but run his fingers through your hair and just kiss you. 

Only when your lungs are too hungry to ignore does he free your mouth. His soft black hair dangles over his starry eyes as he looks down at you with them. Lips swollen and smeared with you, his chest heaves. Bringing his free hand up, he wipes your wet cheek.

“Oh my god,” you say, breathless. “Beomgyu.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, he laughs. “I like when you call me that. I think I want to make you scream it—scream it until they come breaking down your doors and see that we are each other's. Until your fiancé hears it.”

Body bursting at the seams at the prospect, you nod frantically and dip your face into his neck to dust starry kisses there, too. He shudders. “I want it so bad. Can you please?”

“Of course I can. I’m going to make love to you, okay?” He pushes off you, crawling back so that he’s sat squatted just before your knees as you pin them together. “Open your legs, princess. Show me how pretty you are—I’ve waited so long for it.” He pats on the outer side of your knee.

Thrill spiraling up from between your thighs like sparks, you oblige slowly. You let your legs fall open for him, and choke on your own heart as he begins to slowly work your dress up the expanse of your legs, and then your thighs, baring to him the plush and unseen skin there. He eats it up wildly, his eyes gone ravenous and even blacker.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say, voice trill and unsure. “I don’t know what to do.”

A wicked grin cracks over his features. “I know, princess.” The fabric bunches at your thighs, now. You tremble with the stifling anticipation. “I’m going to take care of you. It’s going to feel so good—I’m gonna make you feel so good. I have so many things I want to do to you. Lifetimes of things I want to make you feel.”

Doe-eyed and laying your trust in his hands, your thighs twitch and you nod. He reveals your cunt at last, finally catching the glistening sight of it for the very first time. And, he does not disappoint. The look that washes over his face—the twitching of his lips, the tightening of his jaw in a flickering muscle, and the fire razing your cunt in his eyes—is something so dreamlike, but lucid nonetheless.

“You just lay down and let me help you. Treat you how a princess should be treated.” He works on his pants, silver belt clinking and then loosening, and then he’s just as exposed as you when his length pops free. It’s hard already, tall and pretty like the rest of him, but pink and obscene at the tip. He leaks from the little slit at the top. “Look at you. You look like you want to taste it,” he says, laughing while collecting the liquid to pump himself a few times. “Next time, baby. I’d love to see the proper mouth of the world’s princess choking on my cock.”

The air is cold against the mess between your legs. It sends a chill up your spine—or maybe that was the crudeness of his words. You suppose you should’ve expected nothing less from him. When he goes to climb back over you and line himself up with you, your thighs twitch and try to snap shut.

He pins your hip to the floor. “Don’t be shy, baby. I wanna see that pretty pussy. It’s not fair to hide it from me.”

“Sorry,” you say, cheeks burning.

Taking that hand and sliding it up behind the back of one of your knees, pressing that thigh up to your torso, he laughs a teasing laugh down at you. “Don’t say sorry,” he says. He holds his length adjacent to your slit and then begins to slip up and down the length of it. “Just let me fuck you. I need it so bad.” He hisses in tandem with you. The drags of his length, harder than how you thought a cock might feel, is like undiluted liquor. “I can’t believe this… shit, princess. I’m about to fuck you. I thought I was going to have to sit here and watch you by his side.” 

You take your lip into your teeth when he pushes in. It stretches. You bring your hand up to cup the back of his neck and the other to dig into his tunic, mewling softly.

“It’s okay, princess. Hold on to me, you can take it, right? You cunt was built for me. Everything about you was made for me. Your heart, your pretty hands for me to hold, your sex, all of it. Do you feel how I fit right into you? How I was made to?”

You do. When he finally is balls-deep, his cock nestles exactly where it should. Not an inch too deep or an inch too scarce. The two of you were sculpted by something holy, fit just for each other. “Yes,” you breathe.

He can’t even linger sitting still  in you. He begins pulling himself out, all the way until the tip of him threatens to pop out lewdly, before shoving back in right up against that spot. He doesn’t even have to search for it. Head falling into your chest, he licks and bites. “The taste of you,” he says. Then, he presses his tall nose right over that spot in your neck where your heart’s gone wild. “The smell of you.” Wincing, he lays into you with more vigor, hips slapping against your skin. “The feel of you. You drive me up the fucking walls. How was I ever supposed to live without this?” he says. “I refuse.”

Your belly begins to tighten in a way that you’ve never known. Tears prick the corner of your ears, clinging to him as he fucks you into the floor like he’ll never have to opportunity to have you like this again. The wood cradles your back and the back of your hips, receiving each of his thrusts. You curl your toes and will back the lewd cries that threaten to spill over with each.

His voice is taut and wobbly. “Feels good, huh? I know. It feels… so good.” Dropping your thigh to cup your face, he says, “Cry. Cry for me. I said I wanted you to scream.”

Face burning and squirming against the hardwood behind you, you shake your head. “I can’t, gyu…”

“Yes you can,” he says, face twitching. “I want you to start letting it out, or I’m gonna stop. Do you want me to stop?”

Covering your face, with the back of a forearm, you grit your teeth through each punctual and yet sloppy grind up into you. Your bodies sweat and meld, and you’re sure that anybody walking by your quarters would know just by the hollow smacks of skin and grunts that you’re fucking a man. You, an engaged woman, are letting the prince turn your brain inside out.

But, there is nothing you want less than for him to stop. So, you let your mouth drop open and allow the sweet mewls to come with each rut.

“There we go. Louder.” He braces himself, digging his feet into the floor, and then he really starts driving into you. Sparks fly in your belly—each yellow and glowing and scalding. “Do I need to fuck you harder? C’mon, louder, princess.”

Thighs squeezing his hips so tight that they ache, you squirm. You struggle against your sounds—turning from sweet moans and mewls, you groan and gasp and your voice breaks. Each collision of your bodies breaks your sounds.

Curling your fingers into his silken hair, you grit out, “H—hoooh fuck, Beomgyu, Beomgyu, I feel… like…”

Bangs sticky and his eyes growing wilder, he knows something you don’t. The knowing, taunting grin on his mouth says enough. “Let it happen. Don’t fight it.  Just stay—stay right there, and I’ll give it to you. No running from it; it’s gonna feel so good.” His muscles go taut, and he doubles down on his efforts, panting through his nose and his neck sheened. He drops his head into your chest. “Fuck. Fuckkkk, I love you so much, princess. Thank you—thank you, so much.”

You don’t know why he’s thanking you. You don’t have the cognitive function to worry about that. Your mind has gone to two things: the growls and whines that rumble and tear from his chest, and the frightening tightness that only goes more dangerous. Your chest tightens—it feels as though, if he feeds that hungry beast gnawing deep down in your belly with any more of what he’s doing now, it will snap and take you down in its wake. Warbled cries crawling up your throat, you arch your back up into his chest to try and dig your hips into the floor, away from the bliss and the power of it.

“No,” he says, cursing. “No—don’t run from it. Don’t… Baby, please take what I’m giving you. It’s gonna be alright.”

Pushing back on the dark throes of the tide as it creeps up over your shoulders and sends shocks through your body, the hair on the back of your neck rising with the effort, you choke. Beomgyu takes a hand down the seam of your bodies and rolls your aching clit. They’re succinct and intentional—pressure right on the sensitive underside, sending your belly rippling as he pairs it with a few more sharp, more meaningful thrusts.

You see white. It’s white and hot. You are the sun, beaming and writhing like stardust. You curve off the floor once more, raking nails down the lengths of his back. Are you even making sound? You don’t know; you can’t hear it past the ringing piercing sharp in your ears. You shake beneath him, cunt gripping him frantically with flutters of your walls. 

He grunts, voice strained and shaking as he begins to follow his own release.  “Holy shit—look at you. You’re so f-filthy. So pretty, cumming on me.”

You bare each brush of his cock against your still twisting walls, trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your thighs jump and your toes curl, and it’s all too much, but not enough. He needs to come tumbling over the edge right along with you—if he comes with you, it doesn’t seem so hard. You chant his name, smooth voice gone hoarse.

Stilling inside you, he whines, “Shi—it.” A war wages behind his eyes for a long second before he slips his cock from you with a wet, squelching pop, strings of your release breaking as he lays his cock on your belly. His stomach goes tight, and with one last slide of his length, slick with your mess and staining your belly, his cock jumps. He shoots all over your skin, pretty glistening spurts like ribbons a milky white. 

He sits back on his haunches, slowly rubbing himself off to give you some more and come down. Your room is quiet now, aside from your heaving chests and the buzz of something new in the air. Letting his head fall back, wet strands of spiky black hair dangle around his neck, a bead of sweat catching light as it rolls down it.

“Feel okay?” he says, looking down on you with softened eyes. He pulls cloth from his pocket, unfolding the fine fabric, and he wipes himself off your belly.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, leaning into the palm he cups your cheek with. “I’m okay.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The world didn’t explode, did it?” he says.

You share a stolen laugh with him, feeling every last honey wave receding from the spot between your thighs. The world hadn’t ended, and yet, in every way, it had. Savoring the abated rises and falls of his chest and the content sagging of his shoulders, your belly tightens anew. 

What happens now, when everything else has been a lie? When you don’t believe that you can survive that lie for any longer?

So many hands work on you. One of your ladies in waiting laces you up in the back, and another works on your hair even while you stand, and one bounces a wintry, snow-kissed rouge over the plush of your cheeks. 

Yesterday, your world changed. And today, you’re expected to go on living in it.

When Beomgyu slipped out from your room last night after hours of holding each other under the covers, indulging in your ability to touch, you let your heart crack in two. You shouldn’t have. Why had you let yourself think that it was going to end up anything other than like this? You, getting prettied up to be sent away with your expecting husband, and the dreams you’d let build up to the clouds in the prince’s arms all shattered on the floor at your feet.

What else can you do? Loving Beomgyu freely is out of the question. Your parents would laugh right in your face, or maybe lock you away and make even more sure that you never get to see him again.

You try to burn the image of his eyes into your memory. Black, big and round and cunning all the while. You commit the broadness of his shoulders, and the pretty straight line of his nose in profile, and the pink plushness of his lips, and the little freckles you’d discovered yesterday, and the sound of his voice in your ear, and the feel of his touch on your skin, too.

“We’ll leave you until it’s time to come collect you,” a Lady says, bowing at the waist to you as the others finish up, tying the fastening of your dress up quick and sprinkling their final touches over you before following her out.

Your room goes utterly quiet. More quiet than it’s ever felt.

Dragging your limbs over to your bed, you let yourself fall onto it despite all the care they’d taken to get your skirts right. Resting your cheek to your palm, you let your eyes fall closed as you memorize the feel of your own bed, too.

When you flutter them open, there’s something peeking out from the pillow across from you. You furrow your brows and reach for it.

The paper is folded up with haste, torn from the edge of somewhere else and scribbled on with a quick hand. How long has that been there, without you noticing? Pushing yourself up from the bed, careful to at least maintain the smoothness of your hair, you unfold it.

ℳ𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝓉 𝒮𝑤𝑎𝑛 ℒ𝑎𝑘𝑒. 

Your soul comes back to life and seeps through your bloodstream. Sitting there for a few moments, idle at the largeness of what you’re about to do, you loose a breath. 

And then, you curl your hand around it, shove yourself up in a flurry of white, crystalline skirts, and you go.

The curious faces of the palace hands you pass do not stop you, nor does the morning’s bite as you find your way outside, nor does the almost-slip over ice, and absolutely nothing else stops you as you run. Is he still going to be there when you make it?

God, please let him be there. Don’t let this be almost.

Fists full of the abrasive fabric of your skirts and darting by barren bushes and trees, you do not stop until you clear the little tree line and the lake stands vast and frosty ahead of you.

When Beomgyu spots you, and you spot his figure against the background of the lake crisp in the morning, the sweet cooing of the birds and the rest of the bustle falls away. None of it compares.

“You came,” he says, dragging his feet through the snow until he’s right in front of you, his features elegant once more in the clear morning haze. “I didn’t think you would.”

You reach up to dust away snowflakes resting on his hair. It’s an excuse to touch him—that’s all you find yourself wanting to do, now. Brows pinching, you say, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… was scared.”

“No, no, I came,” you say, feeling now the bare expanse of your arms. You run your hands up and down them. Heart in atrophy all the while feeling full just being here with him, you add, “Why did you want to meet here?”

The world is serene for a few long moments as he just looks at you, his gaze searching. “Don’t marry him. Don’t leave with him.”

You know where he’s going with this already. Letting your dress fall from your hands, the one they’d fashioned you in to do exactly that, you say, “And do what?”

“Be with me. Marry me. Be my wife,” he says, the lines of his face solemn. “Let’s elope and find a corner of the world that’s just ours, so that we will never have to hear another word from them again. Let’s just… be together. Finally.”

Chest swelling with something so hopeful that it’s painful, reality comes with its pin point and pops it. “Is that really what you want? You’ll take me, even though I’m promised to somebody else?”

His lip curls as though the thought were detestable. “What the fuck is a dowry to this? To the approval of the fates? The world could try snuff that fact out with whatever they’ll try, and a man could offer your parents a dowry of all its money, and still, you’d be mine. No matter what, our souls belong to each other.” His hand is frozen against your cheek. He’s been out here waiting for you for so long. “I’d take you, promised to another man. I’d take you no matter how you are; in a thousand different lives, I’d have you each time.”

That’s all you need to hear: that you are cherished for more than just your nature, but for yourself. That he loves you unendingly and undyingly, and all you have to do is leave by his side. You’ve already left it all behind—thrown any attachment to the wind, because truly, what is that to this? You don’t know where you’ll go, and you think Beomgyu hasn’t a clue either. But you’ll find that somewhere together. 

Together, your half sings. His answers with a thrilling beat.

“This time,” he says, eyes blazing with conviction. You know he feels the tug, too. “We got it right.”

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✎୭ ashlynn's note MY SHAYLAAAAA. MY SHAYLAAAAAAA!

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[izzyy-stuff]

TXT and their smut head-canons

txt x afab!reader

word count: 400-600 for each member, 2.4k in total

warnings: use of "my girl" in yeonjun's, oral, vaginal fingering, pet names, established relationship, edging, dirty-talking, overstimulation, mirror sex, unprotected sex, plushie humping I might have missed a few things, but hopefully that's all

SOOBIN

He gets very pussy drunk, always wanting to have his head in between your thighs.

“Pretty please,” he begged, his puppy eyes staring into your soul. “Soob, it's been a long day. I am tired,” you shook your head, sighing. “You don't have to do anything, bun. Please, I just want to make you feel good.”

And just like that, you give in again, unable to resist your pretty boyfriend as he begs to taste you. You find his head in between your thighs almost immediately, sucking on your clit lazily.

He could go on for hours, not letting you go even after you cum, keeping his tongue in your cunt as he licks every last bit of your orgasm, his nose buried in your clit. “You taste so good,” he mumbles against your pussy, kissing your inner thighs, looking up at you.

Before you two started dating, and even at the beginning of your relationship, he was shy, unsure of what he could and couldn't do. But after you two had sex for the first time, he turned out to be a big pervert.

“Soob, I am working,” you complained right after he picked up your call. “Mhm, need you here with me,” he'd only groan in response, making your eyes widen as you hear the lewd sounds. He was actually masturbating and not just texting you to tease you.

You quickly hanged up on him, making sure no one heard what you did. You looked at your phone again, going to curse him out for not warning you sooner when he sends you a message first. A video attachment. You don't need to click on the video to realize what he had sent you, turning off your phone immediately. He was an asshole for texting you those cheap things and then even sending you a video while you were working.

Just like the last one suggests, he loves teasing you over the phone and sending you nasty texts, while he sometimes can't even speak properly when you start dirty-talking to him in person.

“I thought you said you'll ruin me?” You smirked, sitting on his lap, facing him, his pretty eyes wandering all over your face. “I- mhm,” he tried to answer but shut his mouth right away, unable to say anything now that you were in front of him. “What was that?” You smiled innocently, your fingers playing with his hair as you felt his cock hardening under you.

“You said you wanted to fuck all the stress out of me. And that you would eat me out well,” you reminded him, watching as his cheeks turned red. “I still want to do that,” he nodded quietly. You chuckled, cupping his cheeks as you pressed your lips on his. “Then don't just sit here and do what you promised.”

YEONJUN

He has a full-body mirror opposite his bed and knows damn well how to use it.

You sat on his lap, your head thrown back against his shoulder, moans escaping your lips. “What did I say, love? Eyes on the mirror,” he proclaimed while his two fingers thrusted into your pussy, that was already leaking with your cum. It didn't stop him when you finished, and you knew the “just five minutes, please. You look so good,” he said before wasn't even close to the truth. It had already been fifteen minutes, and he was nowhere close to being done.

“I can't,” you answered, your eyes closed. “You can. Come on. Look at how pretty you are with my fingers in you,” he whispered, his breath landing on your ear, sending shivers all over your body. “It's- too much,” you gasped as you felt his thumb on your clit. “Jjunie,” you moaned out, slowly opening your eyes just to see him smirking in the mirror, his eyes on your naked body. “God, I can't wait to fuck you.”

That alone was enough to make you cum on his fingers again. “Please, Jjunie,” you cried, trying to get off his lap. “What does my girl want, hm?” He asked, sucking on your neck to keep you in your place. You moaned at his touch again. “I need your dick, not fingers.”

“Say less,” he whispered against your skin, kissing you one more time before he took his fingers out. “But to get what you want, you need to listen to me too. Eyes on the mirror, baby.”

He is obsessed with the sounds you make when you're with him. All the moans, whines, and begs for him are pressure to his ears.

"Don't hold back." "Let me hear you, pretty." "God, do that sound again." Those were all words you heard that night and many nights before. Yeonjun wasn't the best at hiding what he liked. You always loved that, and you loved doing things he liked. You enjoyed dancing with him, wearing dresses that were his favorites, or listening with him to his favorite artists, but this was different.

You put a hand in front of your mouth as you felt like the pillow under you wasn't enough to muffle your sounds, doing your best to stay quiet. But Yeonjun had a different idea, thrusting into you even faster to make you moan for him. "C'mon, love, put that hand away," he groaned, his hands firmly on your ass, holding you up. "Please, pretty. I need to hear you," he begged, leaning closer and kissing your back.

"They are right next to us," you managed to answer without being too loud, pushing your head into the pillow again. His four band members were in the living room, watching some movie Kai was picking up as you two left to go to Yeonjun's room. And before you could realize it, you ended up on his bed, your ass up for him so he could fuck you. "Who cares? Let them hear how good I am in making you feel good."

BEOMGYU

Beomgyu refuses to admit it, but he has a favorite position. He cannot get enough of you on top of him, riding him.

You noticed a long time ago that he loves being able to see your face when he fucks you, but it was only recently that you realized what his all-time favorite position was. It was obvious when you thought about it. The way he moaned your name and watched you when you rode him was something else. It was driving you crazy.

“Fuck, you're doing so good,” he praised you as he bit onto his bottom lip, watching your boobs bounce right in front of his face, your hands on his shoulders. His hands found their way to your waist, keeping your pace steady as he leaned closer to you, his lips placing wet kisses on your breast. "Gyu," you whined, your hand in his hair now. "Just hold it a bit longer," he mumbled against your boob as he sucked on your nipple, knowing you were as close to cumming as he was.

He is a menace, teasing you whenever he gets the chance. It's simply his way of showing affection. That's also why he loves it when you show him affection in the same way, teasing him.

Beomgyu sat in his gaming chair, tilting his head as he lost another game. Everything was going against him today. "Again?" Soobin asked. "Yeah, surely we are going to win this round," Beomgyu agreed before he muted himself, noticing you walk into the room. "What's up?" He wondered, glancing at his loading screen to assure himself he wasn't in the game yet. "Nothing, keep playing. I just wanted to be here." He didn't look much into it and turned his attention to his screen again, starting the game.

But before he could realize it, you were under his desk, your hands spreading his knees apart. He glanced at you, ready to tell you he wasn't in the mood, but when he saw you, your puppy eyes looking up with your lips slightly parted, he couldn't. But he also couldn't get off the game just like that.

To his luck, you didn't mind. You didn't care if Soobin heard his whines because the two of them were on a call or that he had his eyes on the screen, trying to focus. You pulled down his pants along with his boxers, his already hard cock slapping against his tummy. You scoffed at how hard he was. You saw the look he gave you. You knew he was planning to tell you to stop at first, so it made you scoff how his thoughts didn't align with his body at all.

"Keep focusing on the game, you need to win this round," you proclaimed with a smirk on your face when you felt his eyes on you again as you sucked on his tip. "And how exactly do you want me to do that?" He asked, trying not to make any unnecessary moans when Soobin could still hear him. "Fuck," he whispered, noticing his character dying as you took his whole length down your throat. "Sorry, Soobin, gotta go," he said quickly, not even waiting for his best friend to answer before he hung up on him, moving his chair slightly to the back so he could see you clearer. "You think it's fun to suck me off while I play? God, stop staring at me like that, or I'll cum."

TAEHYUN

No matter how responsible he is, he loves fucking you raw.

"Just fuck me without one, I don't care." When he heard the words coming out of your mouth, a part of him went crazy. He stopped looking through his drawer for condoms and came back to you in no time, spreading your legs apart to take a proper look at your wet cunt. "Oh yeah? You want me to go in raw?" He teased, a smirk on his face. You glanced at him, the visible bulge in his pants making you clench around nothing but thin air. "Please," you nodded.

It took him no time to get his pants and boxers off, giving his cock a few pumps before moving closer to you, his tip teasing your entrance as he pushed your legs up to your breast. You moaned out a lot more desperately than you would want. "Tae, please," you whined, watching as his lips turned into a smirk again. "Don't cry that it's too much later. You are the one who begged for me so beautifully."

You soon find your boyfriend's cock inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust before he starts thrusting in and out of you, fast right from the start. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned out, feeling your pussy tighten around his cock even more as he spoke.

He hates when you try to tease him while giving him a blowjob, but it's a whole different story when he is the one doing it. The way you beg for him to let you cum and the way you whine under him are his favorite parts of edging you.

"Please, please," you cried, trying to close your legs. "Please, what? Hm?" Taehyun asked, not even looking up at you. His eyes were focused on your wet pussy as his fingers pushed in and out of you. "Need to cum," you managed to answer, thrusting your hips towards his fingers, but the moment you did so, he pulled them away, watching you whine again.

You tried to get your hand to your pussy and take care of it yourself, but he had a different plan, grabbing your hand right after he saw you move. Your hands were pinned above your head right away, making you whine again. "Tae, please. Need to cum," you begged him again. "Not yet, beauty. Want you to cum in my mouth."

You found your head thrown back with your hands still pinned above you as he went down on you, sucking on your clit. "Tae!" You gasped when you felt him insert his two fingers into you again while his mouth still played with your clit.

It was your last straw. You couldn't hold back anymore even if you wanted to, squirting all over his face. "Is that all you got after all this time?" He mumbled, his head still buried between your thighs, tongue-fucking you.

HUENINGKAI

Kai has an obsession with your boobs. Whenever he sees you walking around without your bra, he gets hard, wanting nothing more than to fuck your breast.

His eyes fell on your hard nipples immediately. You had just walked out of the shower, wearing only your panties and one of his shirts. He had to gulp as he shifted in his place on your couch, unable to take his eyes away.

"Everything okay?" You asked, drying your hair with a towel. "What's on your mind?"

"You are," he proclaimed, reaching his hand out to you. You smiled at him, thinking he was in his 'sweetheart mood' like you liked to call it, but you soon noticed you were wrong. When you got closer to him, your eyes automatically fell on the bulge in his pants, making you scoff in disbelief. "Please, love, just once," he begged you quietly, his puppy eyes looking up at you. You sighed, knowing exactly what was on his mind.

You dropped to your knees, slowly taking off your - his - shirt, making him shift in his place again. "You're so-so pretty," he praised you as you held your breast in your hand, his hard cock sliding in between them immediately, his tip touching your lips. You opened your mouth, licking his tip before he started thrusting into your mouth, whining at the way you squeezed your boobs around his dick.

Whenever he feels horny while the two of you are away from each other, he humps one of your plushies, moaning out your name.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned out desperately, humping your teddy bear. It was full of your scent, and that alone was driving him crazy. "Nhm- Need you so much," he continued, his eyes closed as he imagined it was you under him, his cock sliding on your folds instead of the stupid plush toy.

His hand reached out to his nightstand, almost knocking down everything that was on it in order to get to his phone. He didn't stop his movements as he opened your and his chat, texting you to come home soon. However, the text looked a lot different than he intended to. It was just a bunch of letters when you read it, but the follow-up message made you realize what was going on. "nwwd you sm plss" was the only thing he managed to write before he threw his phone to the side, thrusting his hips against the teddy bear faster.

[dawngyu]

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.

[nichoswag]

🌱 - soft intimate moments with txt

[pairing] bf!txt x gn reader

[warnings] lots and lots of fluff, kissing

[song rec] 20cm - tomorrow x together

🌱 - yeonjun

holding hands in crowded spaces so he knows you’re with him. sweet goodbye kisses after he walks you to your door. a hand on your waist while he grabs something you can’t reach in the kitchen. sad teary cheer-up kisses when you cry.

🌱 - soobin

shy cheek kisses in public. matching animal face masks on skincare sundays. shoulder massages after a stressful day. spontaneous road trips to get away from everything for a weekend. sweet morning kisses to wake you up for work.

🌱 - beomgyu

smearing frosting on each others faces while eating a sweet treat. tickle fights during movie nights. watching silly youtube videos to fall asleep together. gentle but tight embraces while being reunited after a while.

🌱 - taehyun

laying on his chest cuddling after a long day. holding your purse for you to take the weight off your shoulders. soft, gentle make-out sessions after a disagreement. sitting on his lap while he plays video games to give him kisses when he wins (or loses).

🌱 - huening kai

mirror selfies with his face hidden in your neck. giving you plushies he bought because they reminded him of you. playfully tickling you when you tease him in front of the members. making matching ugly beaded necklaces neither of you ever take off.

©nichoswag | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

[jjunberry]

omggg i just read your txt and the pink ribbons headcannons and i’m down on my knees begging you to write something based off beomgyu’s 😫‼️‼️

❝coquette boy❞

choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: established relationship, smut

warnings: soft dom gyu, sub reader, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, use of ribbons, cum eating, pet names (he calls reader baby & good girl)

wc: 1.2k mlist.

video after video on your tik tok had been filled with girls and their coquette boys. the pink ribbons around their muscles, their waists. it had you clenching around nothing. the thought of beomgyu wrapped up in a pretty pink ribbon was enough to drive you mad. all you could think about was beomgyu, and the pink ribbon wrapped around him. tied into a cute little bow, your beomie.

beomgyu was out with the boys, relaxing after their busy schedules. a part of you wanted to call him home early, but the other part of you said to wait. deciding to wait, you searched your house for any sign of a pink ribbon. once you found the role of ribbon you quickly took off to your bedroom. in your closet you found your matching pink set, perfect for the night ahead.

he came home a few hours later, kicking his shoes off he went in search of you. “babe?” he called, checking the rooms you frequented. he finally found you in your bedroom. his eyes taking in your form, clad in one of your silk robes. “hey babe.” he approached the bed. “hi.” you answered, opening your arms for him.

beomgyu was quick to wrap himself around you. “i missed you,” he buried his face in your chest. “did you?” you asked. he mumbled and nodded his head, burying his face deeper between your chest. “i missed you.” he whined, snuggling you. you giggled, “i missed you beomie, i have a surprise for you.”

his head shot up, ��what is it?” he asked excitedly.

you reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the strip of pink ribbon. his eyebrows furrowed, “uh babe, isn’t a present supposed to come with that?” he twirled the ribbon around his finger. “yes but this ribbon is for something else,” you blushed. “like what?” he looked at you to continue.

“it’s for you,” you admitted shyly. “me? how’s it for me?” he teased running his fingers up your arm. “w-well the girls on tiktok were tying the ribbons around their boyfriends, and i wanted to,” you were flustered now. beomgyu’s intense stare making you nervous.

“well go ahead then, show me.” you grinned, with his permission you took his hand in yours. your eyes scanned his body trying to figure out where you wanted to tie the ribbon. beomgyu watched you intensely, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

you grabbed his right hand, carefully wrapping the ribbon around his middle and ring finger. beomgyu smirked as you tied the ribbon into a cute little bow. “if you wanted me to finger you, all you had to do was ask,” he wiggled his fingers tied by the bow.

“beomgyu,” you shrieked smacking his chest. “i w-wasn’t meaning that, i just wanted a coquette boy.” beomgyu laughed at your flustered state. “so you don’t want me to finger you?” he asked, moving away from you. grabbing his shoulders you stopped his movements, “i didn’t say that.” he grinned.

“lay down baby.” he ordered. you laid down and beomgyu was quick to remove your silk robe. his eyes took in the pink lacy set that barely covered you. “you planned this,” he tsked. “i-i did not, i just like this set.”

“don’t lie baby,” with his other hand he pulled your panties back, then let them go. allowing the material to snap against your aching heat. you whined and bucked your hips, “beomie do something please.”

he was quick to pull your panties down. you were soaked, the dark spot on your panties sent blood straight to beomgyu’s cock. “what’s got you so worked up baby?” he teased running his pointer finger down your slit. “you do,” your hips bucked. “all for me?” he teased. you nodded, “all for you beomie.”

the fingers adorning the pink ribbon ran down your slit. your wetness turning the ends of the baby pink ribbon dark. his touch sent electricity through your body. “you’re so pretty baby, pretty and pink.”

without warning he pushed his tied fingers in your aching hole. your wetness soaking his slender fingers, turning the once baby pink ribbon magenta. his other hand held your hips down, as his fingers worked you.

your hips bucking being blocked by the weight of his other hand. “you’re soaked,” he pushed deeper in you, the tips of his fingers brushing the spongy spot deep inside. the spot that seemed only beomgyu’s fingers could reach. “oh fuck,” you whined.

the feeling of his fingers along with the ribbon brushing against your walls, was enough for the knot inside you to snap. “fuck,” you whined. your release running out around beomgyu’s fingers. he tsked watching your pussy throb and push his fingers out.

“baby, i don’t remember saying you could cum.” he frowned, “and here i thought you were my good girl.” he pulled his fingers from your aching cunt. the ribbon soaked in your juices. you whined seeing his fingers glistening in your release.

beomgyu untied the ribbon, licking his fingers clean. “you taste so sweet,” he groaned. your eyes watched as he pushed his pants and boxers down. his cock sprung free, smacking against his abdomen. he was hard, his tip red and angry dripping pre-cum.

he took the soaked ribbon, tying it around the base of his cock into a cute bow. or at least as cute as it could get. “give me one more baby.” you nodded at his words. he rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

pushing forward, his hips met yours. rough thrusts followed, “god baby you feel so good.” he grunted. the ribbon rubbed against your walls as his cock moved in you. his hands had a firm grip on your hips as he rocked his hips against yours.

“fuck,” his rhythm was steady, slow but deep thrusts.

you could feel every inch of him, his tip brushing your cervix with every thrust. “beomie,” you whined. “do you feel good baby?” he asked thrusting harder.

“y-yes beomie it feels so good.” he smirked. your whines filled the room. beomgyu could feel his release approaching, the knot in his stomach tightening. “gonna fill this pretty pussy up,” his fingers circled your clit. “f-fuck,” you jumped at the feeling. “fill me up beomie, make me full of your cum.” a deep groan left his lips as he sped up his hips.

his fingers gripped you tighter as he thrust deeply, before stilling. the vein in his neck popped, and his stomach muscles tightened. hot thick cum painted your pretty pink insides white. “beomie,” you whined releasing around his pulsing cock, your cum mixing with his, leaking around his softening erection.

he pulled out his soft cock void of cum, and free of the pink ribbon. in the mix of your cum and his was the ribbon, he smirked grabbing it and pulling. you shivered feeling it being pulled from within you. beomgyu held the ribbon between his fingers, the end of it dripping cum.

“this was a nice surprise,” he grinned throwing it in the small garbage can beside your bed. using his pointer and middle finger, he scooped up some of the cum. licking his fingers clean he smiled at you, “tastes so good.”

you felt your cheeks warm, he leaned down and captured your lips with his. the taste of your cum still on his tongue. your hands caressed his cheeks, his eyes locked on yours. “my coquette boy,” you kissed him deeply.

🗒️: like what you’ve read? send a request! guidelines for requesting here.

author’s note: check out txt and the pink ribbons 🎀 which inspired this ask <3

tag list: @304files @jjunieworld @miaroseindreamland

love , echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

© jjunberry - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[joysbaereal]

How many likes for us to get back together???

PAIRING: Ex!Txt x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: jokingly say kys

Yeonjun and Soobin

Beomgyu and Taehyun and Hueningkai

main masterlist

☆ Im thinking of making my page more summer themed🌴☀️👙

[beombunni]

A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock.  “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words. 

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you. 

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.” 

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father. 

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.” 

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” 

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips. 

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out. 

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it. 

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were. 

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful. 

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before. 

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip. 

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?” 

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough. 

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out. 

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess. 

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you. 

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was. 

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.” 

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.” 

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you. 

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?” 

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.” 

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight. 

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal. 

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all. 

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak. 

​​“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole. 

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.” 

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he? 

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties. 

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.” 

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot. 

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow. 

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders. 

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?” 

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.” 

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical. 

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.” 

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.” 

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?” 

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.” 

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words. 

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable. 

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.” 

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”  

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter. 

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you. 

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul. 

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. 

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you. 

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip. 

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient. 

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.” 

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done. 

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.” 

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here. 

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean. 

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.” 

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists. 

“Do you understand?” your father demands. 

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head. 

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless. 

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right. 

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart. 

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again. 

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head. 

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin. 

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint. 

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right? 

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—” 

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.” 

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money. 

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter. 

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods. 

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again. 

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her. 

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs. 

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun. 

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.” 

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.” 

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour. 

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes. 

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly. 

​​Kai’s  face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—” 

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold. 

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by. 

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.” 

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”  

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor. 

It was her hair.

Pink. 

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own. 

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool. 

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was. 

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black. 

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her. 

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger. 

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—” 

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

​​Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family. 

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute. 

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.” 

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way. 

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.” 

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play. 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it. 

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?” 

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye. 

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened. 

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. 

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.  

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered. 

And you’re reckless,” he shot back. 

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?” 

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question. 

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit. 

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart. 

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars. 

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun. 

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth. 

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again. 

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.” 

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?” 

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do. 

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” 

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you. 

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.” 

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation. 

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin. 

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside. 

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly. 

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally. 

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—” 

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.” 

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.” 

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair. 

“I’m not scared,” he shot back. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.” 

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me. 

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.” 

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him. 

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go. 

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.” 

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again. 

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.” 

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.” 

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.” 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you. 

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.” 

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.” 

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him. 

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence. 

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.” 

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?” 

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.” 

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.” 

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.” 

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time. 

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.” 

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.” 

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly. 

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.” 

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it. 

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?” 

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. 

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer. 

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you. 

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it. 

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire. 

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. 

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.” 

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace. 

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. 

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out. 

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. 

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again. 

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you. 

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.” 

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy. 

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff. 

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.” 

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss. 

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair. 

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment. 

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.” 

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses. 

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back. 

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons. 

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable. 

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away. 

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-” 

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly. 

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” 

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile. 

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing. 

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured. 

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy. 

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?” 

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that. 

“Use your words sweetheart.” 

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch. 

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape. 

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath. 

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..” 

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you. 

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance. 

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding. 

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes” 

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you. 

“My god.” You whispered. 

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand. 

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips. 

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless. 

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze. 

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. 

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you. 

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine. 

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving. 

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.” 

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain. 

“No. Please move.” 

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out. 

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely. 

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.” 

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.” 

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you. 

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub. 

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face. 

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train. 

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge. 

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling. 

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you. 

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment. 

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.” 

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.” 

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening. 

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed.  “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.” 

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief. 

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.” 

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?” 

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.” 

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?” 

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” 

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.” 

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.” 

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it. 

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real? 

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door. 

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?” 

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.” 

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—” 

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—” 

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm. 

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.” 

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.” 

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. 

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him. 

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.” 

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?” 

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.” 

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?” 

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?” 

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers. 

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.” 

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained. 

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.” 

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin. 

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell. 

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.” 

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest. 

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game. 

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only. 

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words. 

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty. 

Yeonjun.” 

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back. 

“Yeonjun, 

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.  

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun. 

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened. 

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him. 

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure. 

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again. 

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax." 

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied. 

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this." 

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again. 

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill. 

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised. 

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it. 

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession. 

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai. 

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?" 

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it. 

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—" 

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it." 

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered. 

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want." 

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise." 

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.” 

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary. 

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was. 

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face. 

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want." 

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free." 

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will." 

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of." 

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think." 

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. 

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it. 

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours. 

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters. 

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered. 

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance. 

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could. 

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm. 

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up. 

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips. 

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother. 

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known." 

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you. 

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking. 

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise." 

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother. 

"I love you," you whispered. 

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know." 

​​You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist. 

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all." 

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried." 

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been. 

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how." 

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully. 

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them. 

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. 

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately. 

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world." 

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.” 

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart. 

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” 

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them." 

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else." 

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted." 

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest. 

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. 

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest. 

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of  The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.” 

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear. 

Her marriage announcement. 

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one. 

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin. 

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears. 

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it. 

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was. 

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table ​. Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him. 

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation. 

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude. 

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner. 

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her. 

Kang Taehyun. 

The one she was supposed to marry. 

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil. 

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her? 

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now." 

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him. 

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough. 

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—" 

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him." 

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast. 

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world." 

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide." 

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of. 

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do." 

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." 

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you. 

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone." 

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. 

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope. 

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together." 

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure. 

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. 

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake. 

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand. 

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed. 

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all. 

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning. 

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked. 

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control. 

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?” 

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.” 

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow. 

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him. 

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” 

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai. 

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy. 

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold. 

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon. 

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him. 

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward. 

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined. 

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. 

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor. 

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent. 

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.” 

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.” 

“But-” 

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob. 

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest. 

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.” 

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.” 

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.” 

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was. 

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses. 

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor. 

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered. 

His breath caught. It was her. 

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look. 

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.” 

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists. 

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.” 

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.” 

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.” 

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn. 

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—” 

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion. 

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness. 

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried. 

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.” 

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.” 

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” 

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.” 

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief. 

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days. 

Yeonjun.” 

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.” 

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.” 

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.” 

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” 

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

[biteyoubiteme]

bubble gum flavored

Beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis: you're a camgirl and beomgyu is your favorite fan.

warnings: 🔞!!! mentions of masturbation (m! and f!), sex toys, mentions of cum eating, panty sniffing, fingering, oral (f!rec), nipple play, overstim (m! and f! rec), marking, use of teeth, unprotected sex, creampie, reader calls gyu by username beomiebear, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 6k

an: my weakness is camgirl/camboy fics and I already want to write a part two. take a shot every time I use the three c’s cum clit cock feedback appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is a part of my mini kinktober event check out the other fics! [dumdums m.list]

beomgyu remembers when he found your stream for the first time. The cam website had you listed in the newcummer ranks, only a few watchers sitting in the chat when he clicked on. he usually kept to the top camgirls in the list, getting off once and then heading to bed, but he had misclicked when logging on ending up right where he needed to be all along.

The little window previewing your stream showed your pink backdrop, a million pink pillows laid out on the ground where you leaned back. He shrugged, opening your stream to see you with a wand pressed to your clothed clit, legs lifted to your chest, your back arching as you came, the strappy blue bikini straining against your tits like it would pop off at any second. It was over for him the second he heard your breathy whines, thighs shaking as you overstimulated yourself, knees pulling in before you gave a shout pulling the vibrator away. The swimsuit bottoms are completely soaked through sticking and outlining your cunt. 

Even without the wand you were trembling, head thrown back as you tried to catch your breath. And for the first time ever gyu commented in the chat dropping a donation with a single word. 

beomiebear: again.

The ding of the request was the only sound in your room, drawing you to look right at the screen for the first time. If he hadn't been gone by the sound of your pretty noises he was with your pretty face. 

“okay ill go again,” you hooked your arms under your knees, and before pressing back down on your clit you muttered, “This one's for you beomiebear,” 

beomgyu stayed up until your stream was over, cock raw from how long he had been fucking his hand, stomach covered in streams of his cum from how often he finished to the sight of you. he bookmarked your page, paid to be an exclusive member and waited for a notification that you were on live. 

The first month of following you he got used to your schedule on Wednesday, and Friday nights he would be at his desk filling your chat with requests, commenting on your beauty, dropping donations like candy leading you through the forest of your other commenters to praise him and him alone. Every stream he joined got him more and more recognition from you. A sweet, “hi beomiebear,” drawn out and giddy, your little wave and smile just for him. Other exclusive members in the chat didn’t get that voice, no, it was reserved for beomgyu and beomgyu alone. Even as you grew higher in the ranks and more people started joining your little army you always greeted beomiebear. He was the longest standing member in chat, donated the most, requested things he could tell you liked just by the way you sounded. 

When you listed a wishlist for items to be sent to you, if the gift was from beomiebear you didn’t just mention the one time you wore it but every time after, “You remember this one don’t you? It was a gift from beomiebear,” your fingers snapping the waistband of the pink thong you wore, “beomie says he loves me in pink, do you guys agree?” 

Your streams were everything to him, even if he was on a trip or out late when you started a stream he was in the bathroom of a bar jerking off like it was the first time he ever saw you, he's trying to stifle his moans in hotel rooms, cumming hard with your name on his lips. he was there for your streams when you just got ready, always in your tiny little tank top nipples peddled, treating the camera like a facetime call. Asking the chat what you should wear, holding up options. His favorite part is always at the end when you put on your lipstick and then go on to fix up your hair, spinning in your outfit asking if you looked pretty. He never missed an opportunity to shower you with love. 

And when you did an event for reaching your goal sub count you promised the highest donator a fleshlight, two used pairs of panties, and a personal video of you cumming in one of them. beomgyu was the winner by a landslide. “and who would have guessed that beomiebear was the winner? I'm not surprised my beomiebear is obsessed with me,” it was the same time that you set up personal chat offers for long-time members and no one had been watching as long as gyu had. 

you: Do you want me to use your real name in my video for you?

But gyu loved that you called him by his screen name, anyone else he had ever had sex with only called him beomgyu and you were so much more than just casual even if you had never met in person. 

beomiebear: No, I like it when you call me beomiebear or even just beomie or bear. 

Once beomgyu got his video he watched it on the days you didn’t stream, playing it over and over until he had each word memorized. 

“I picked these out just for you,” your hands running over the bubble gum pink panties you wore, “you’re going to have to tell me if you like them. and then these,” you held up that strappy blue swimsuit, “I know I said two panties but these were from the first stream you joined, so that means I wore them the first time you made me cum,” 

just the fact you remembered made him hard. and when you pulled out the fleshlight you got him, unboxing it to show it off, “now it's not wet unlike how I am right now but I'm sure you'll get it wet enough,” your fingers running over the silicone, slipping your middle and ring finger in the hole before taking them out and putting them into your mouth, “I wish I could lick this clean after you had used it,” you pout, “I know you must taste so good,” you kissed over the puffy lips before asking, “you’ll think of me when you use it right?” 

You had him wrapped so tight about your little finger that he was nodding and answering to a screen knowing damn well you couldn't hear him.

When his package came in he was shaking with need, straining in his jeans ripping open the box, groaning over the smell of you. You didn’t only send the things promised, you tossed in an extra pair of panties, sprayed with your perfume, and a little bear and lollipop phone charm. A note card handwritten for him saying ‘for my beomiebear, don’t forget to give your new toy clitty kisses before fucking it and filling it up while thinking of me <33’ and did he listen, kissing over where he knew your lips had been before sending it, fucking it until he was so drained he was amazed at how much cum could leave his body. Your panties pressed to his nose, phone charm hanging from his case. 

You were right about him being obsessed with you and neither of you would have it any other way. and you were no different. Seeing beomiebear's name in the chat or donating would never stop you from smiling. He was one of the first people to support you on live, calling out bad behavior in chat, and calling you the prettiest names. When beomie was active you were putting on your best show. You felt the prettiest when beomiebear was watching and commenting. You picked out outfits you knew beomie would like and couldn't help but think about how he must look behind his keyboard at home.

You've never seen beomie but that didn’t mean that you weren't obsessed with the idea of him just like he was obsessed with the idea of you. Sometimes after a stream when beomie would go to your private chat complimenting you and saying goodnight you were laid out in bed giggling and kicking your feet, blushing and smiling acting as if you've never had a boyfriend before in your life. No man had ever made you this giddy in real life and no one else from your streams compared. 

You remember finding the little phone charm when you were on vacation smiling like a madman just thinking about beomiebear so you bought it. You wouldn't be able to forget the cute little bear or the lolly pop, beomiebear, and his bubblegum princess in pink. Always wondered if he had put it to use or if it was sitting in his nightstand with your panties. 

Tonight you set up your stream for a get ready with me, fingers rolling over your nipples to get them hard, “Hi! Tonight is just going to be a short stream, it feels like forever since I've been on but it's been only one day,” your eyes scan over chat, welcoming the users who tip or the ones you've seen before. These streams never did as well as the ones with you masturbating but they did bring in long-term tippers, the ones who requested private texts and videos often. “I'm going out tonight so I need help to make sure I look good, do you think you could help me decide on a few things?” 

Your setup is in your spare room, the one space that made you sign for your apartment as soon as you saw it. Your backdrop is set up right along the back wall, a bed set up lengthwise along the wall with all your pillows to lay down at the perfect angle for your camera. Your vanity is usually behind the camera, only used when you do streams like these, the lights setting the mood. The small closet attached to the room held anything you wore for streams, all your toys and props organized under where everything hung. Tonight you were going out with friends for drinks for a rare night out with friends. You spend most of the time commuting to class and home, and with both your cam schedule and your school schedule you didn’t go out much. And none of your friends knew your little secret and you would keep it like that as long as you possibly could. 

You held up the two options you had picked out for tonight, “maybe I should try them both on for you?” 

It then that beomies name pops up in chat and your smile brightens, “Hi beomiebear! Which one should I try first?” you were going for an angel or devil theme with the white set and the black set in hand, both of them nearly identical to each other.

beomiebear: Don’t we get to see the lingerie first?

“I didn’t even think of that beomie you’re so right. I would need your help to pick out the perfect panties for these, hmm let me see what I have,” you dig through your collection, pulling out a few options for them to pick between. “Here I have pink,” you hold them up one at a time, “white, red, and black. If I wear the white skirt I don’t know if I'll be able to wear the red but why don’t we see?” 

Your top half was mostly in frame as you changed your panties but stepping closer to the bed you could see more of your body in the viewfinder. Picking up the white skirt to pull it on, purposefully tugging it up higher. “see what I mean everyone would be able to see, especially if I bend over,” you demonstrate leaning over the bed and looking over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips. 

beomgyu is sitting in his apartment biting his lip trying to decide if he should touch himself when he has to be ready in an hour to leave for drinks with his friends. Debating if the clean up is worth it but knowing that if he doesn't get off at least once he will be fighting a boner for a while. He watches as you pick up the next pair of panties to try, you’re standing in front of the camera tugging your skirt down enough so that when you take off the red pair the camera doesn't pick it up, but as you tug on the white lace and bend back over the bed he gives up on resisting. The material is just sheer enough to show the outline of your cunt and as you sway your hips asking if these are better the fabric slips along your lips. there is no way he is not touching himself now. “oops,” you giggle fixing the lace so that it sits right again, “maybe not these, don’t want anyone else seeing what is only meant for my angels,” 

you stand back up, “You know what I think the black skirt is better,” you slide the white skirt off leaving you back in your tiny cropped tank and lace panties before sliding up the black skirt, “okay but now the white is too showy,” you bend again, “what should I pick next the black or the pink?” gyu is fast to respond, “okay beomie says pink so I think we have to try that one next,” and gyu doesn't know what happens to him when he sees you wear pink only that he's whimpering with his hand down his sweats picking up his pace as he squeezes his cock. When you bend doing your little wiggle he knows he's the one who sent these to you from your wishlist, that alone makes him cum. His head falls back against the headboard, not caring about the mess anymore when you’re there taking your top off, pushing down on your boobs with your arm to hide giggling about not wanting to wear a bra tonight. Your bare back to the camera as you pull on your new top. 

By the end of your stream, he was cutting it close to making it out on time to meet up with everyone. But when he got to the bar they had saved him a seat at their booth half taken up with his friends and half taken up with yours. 

You were half squished between your friend and soobin, feeling claustrophobic amongst the group. soobin and you have an econ class together along with another friend at the table. He had invited the two of you out a couple of times but it was always on a Friday and you always made the most of Friday nights. But he had asked to celebrate the end of the semester pointing out everyone else was going so you agreed wanting to finally get out even if it was only the one time. So far all of his friends were nice, picking up conversation easily and adding everyone in like they had been besties for years. gyu didn’t even realize it was you at the table until you lifted your head at yeonjuns loud, “Look who finally made it!” 

beomgyu had only just seen you on his screen, putting on lipstick and blowing a kiss to your chat before logging off, he felt like he was hallucinating but he didn’t want to get caught staring. He tried to keep his features blank, avoiding spending too much time looking at you when he nodded a short greeting to everyone. he wasn't fully convinced it was you until soobin was introducing your side of the table, “And this is gyu,” 

your smile was the barest reaction he had ever seen you give, “Hi gyu,” so unlike the way you look when you call him beomie. he sat on the other side of soobin as the others continued their conversation. His hands were slick with sweat as he discreetly pulled out his phone pulling up your private chat, he had messaged you after stream like he usually did complimenting you, your sweet reply always going straight to his heart. He typed out a message for you clicking his phone off and letting it sit in his lap as he watched you pick yours up. 

beomiebear: I hope you’re thinking of me while you’re dressed that pretty tonight don’t need you forgetting me. 

beomgyu was trying not to make it obvious he was watching you as your face lit up typing before clicking your phone off. In his lap, his buzzed and he knew it was you. That little smile gave away more than anything else. 

you: There is no way I could forget about you when I'm always thinking about you <3

And as much as beomgyu wants to talk to you he's completely scared shitless. 

He feels like the second you two lock eyes you'll know he knows you’re a cam girl. That you'll feel weird once you know he's watched you get off for what feels like forever. Not even that he just watched but he's gotten off more times than he can count from watching you. that not even two hours ago he was fucking his hand wishing it was you and you had only been changing. He wouldn't be able to take it if you ignored him, stopped answering his messages, and smiled at his user. So he bit his tongue and sat back.

beomgyu didn’t think he would have a problem acting normal but when your friend dragged you out onto the dance floor it was almost painful not to watch you. the way your body was moving drawing him in without him noticing he was stuck on you until soobin bumped his shoulder, “just talk to her,” 

“w-what no,” he stumbled, waving away the suggestion, “she wouldn't- I'm not-“ his heart was beating so hard he's sure any more attention brought to him would give him away. 

“I will if you don’t,” gyu gave the deadliest glance, it was the last thing he ever wanted to think about, his friend and you together when it should be him. soobin chuckled, “I'm kidding I like her friend but it proves my point on why you should speak up,” 

beomgyu bit the inside of his cheek before muttering, “I'm getting another drink,” 

and that's where you found him at the bar. He was checking the time on his phone waiting for his drink when you popped up next to him leaning over the bartop waving over the bartender. Not even noticing he was from your group until the bartender walked right past ignoring you. gyu went stiff, placing his phone face down on the counter when you spoke up, “gyu right?” 

“Yeah,” he absentmindedly starts to play with the charm on his phone, flicking the lollipop. He knows you've never seen him, that you wouldn't know him in the way he knows you. Every shared glance feels as if you will just know it's him, like his username is written on his forehead that if you paid enough attention would be visible to only you. He could feel a pit in his stomach, a brewing mix of embarrassment and need. If he wasn't worried you would freak out he wanted to get to know you like he would any other girl in the bar. Ask you to dance, get you a drink, flirt until the sun comes up; he wanted you to like him, feel something for him even if it was a fraction of what he felt for you. 

“how do you know soobin?” you ask just trying to make conversation as you wait for another bartender to pass. 

“we're childhood friends and we roomed together our first year,” he flicks the charm again, looking over at the glasses lining the wall in front of the two of you, missing the way you looked down at what he was messing with. 

You could feel your heart in your ears at seeing the charm on his phone, the instant realization almost blinding. Your silence is what makes gyu look back at you, both of you looking at eachother like you saw a ghost. The two of you jumped out of your skin when Yeonjun and Kai came up behind gyu to say goodbye. 

“beomgyu were leaving,” and if Kai hadn't said his name at that exact moment you could have written it off. Anyone could be beomiebear it didn’t have to be gyu but mixed with the phone charm at that exact moment you couldn't have missed it. 

“o-okay,” beomgyu had to clear his throat to get the words out. the final nail in the coffin was when Yeonjun ruffled gyus hair as a salute not knowing he was leaving the two of you in a puddle of nerves after saying, “Bye beomie,” 

Even if it's a packed room, the only thing you can see is gyu in front of you. you had always dreaded the day when you would meet a member outside of chat, the possibility so much higher with your face uncovered. Now you were face to face with someone you had proof watched almost every single one of your streams. “so… is it going to be really uncomfortable now?” 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable at all. I wasn't going to say anything,” beomgyu feels like he's rambling, grasping for straws to try to right the situation. You can see the panic on his face, the same face you're re-examining with your new clarity. A deep blush is set across his cheeks, his brows pinched in worry. 

“no it's okay I'm more shocked than uncomfortable,” you try to laugh it off, finger brushing over the little bear charm. “Happy to put a face to the name, you’re way cuter than I imagined,” 

beomgyu could feel warmth all over his body at the compliment, a soft smile showing itself. “you think?” it was so much better in person to hear you say nice things, to know it was meant for him alone. 

you give a soft chuckle waving, “Do you want to dance with me? I don’t think the bartender cares about us at this point,” 

“o-okay,” 

beomgyu couldn't believe you were here, the two of you are so close now that beomgyu can smell your perfume, making his cock so much harder remembering your panties pressed to his face, aided now by the way you were grinding back on him. he had a hard time putting his hands on you in the first place, you have to guide him to grab your waist. But as the night went on he was finding it easier and easier to let his hands roam wherever you let him. 

It felt as if you've known him for so long, everything falling into place as if you've always known each other, like that first stream was a first date and you haven't been apart since. If it had been anyone else you think you would have gone straight home and locked yourself away, with beomiebear, with beomgyu, you felt as if you could lock the two of you in a room and never leave. Because even if he had been behind the screen he still had picked up on the way you liked things. 

You turned wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to your mouth, “it's getting late,” 

“I don’t wanna go,” he confessed not caring if you could feel his erection pressed against you, he wanted to stay with you not see you go. 

“You don’t want to go home with me?” if you could push yourself any closer you would just to make your point, “Because something tells me you really do,” 

beomgyus mouth is dry, trying and failing to come up with words that won't seem too needy because all he wants to do is beg. he would have you right here if he could, right in the back of the uber you called to pick the two of you up. He's never been so nervous to be with anyone before, even his first time he was less needy and more confident. What breaks him is when you get to your apartment, when you push open the door to your spare room and he sees that pink bed from your background, moody lights and all. He moans at the thought of all the times he's seen you spread out on those very pillows with your hand between your thighs. The white skirt and panties you didn’t wear were still on the floor. “are you really wearing the panties I picked out?” his voice was caught in his throat, not at all how he wanted it to come off. But you just smile from the doorway, no one has ever been in here with you before and it gives you butterflies.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” you ask, sliding your hands up his chest and around his neck. 

He's slow to kiss you, the soft tentative nature of his kiss unlike how you thought he would be. He was being so gentle, taking his time with you, exploring the way you two fit together. His hands at your waist pulling you into him, kissing you breathless. beomgyu could make out with you forever, making every effort to know you inside and out. one hand sliding down the curve of your ass, pushing your shirt up until he was feeling the lace of your panties, groaning into your kiss. “do you-,” he can’t even pull himself away from you, pressing himself closer, coming back to your mouth like it was the source, “do you think-“

you have to pull away giggling. “it's okay beomgyu I'll still kiss you after you ask your question,” he's nodding like he understands, nose brushing against yours as he tries to latch back onto your mouth. 

“Do you think I could watch you?” those puppy dog eyes working wonders on your stomach, “please,”

“only if I get to see what it looks like on the other side of the screen,” you reach down to cup him over his jeans, “it's only fair,” beomgyu has never been so noisy in his life, whimpering as you feel him up, wanting to thrust into the air when you pull away. “Do you want me to use a toy?” 

he's nodding his head watching you pull open your closet door, the drawer you pull open overstocked with everything he's ever seen you use in a stream, even things he hasn't seen you use yet. He's almost a little shocked at the sight of all the options to choose from, mind filtering through every reaction he can remember you having with each one, needing to see your lashes flutter. It's when he sees the wand toy from the first stream he attended that he knows there was never another option for him. 

beomgyu sits on your vanity chair, leaning back against the cushion to get the perfect angle to watch you. The nerves were new for you, even the first few streams you had done you had been able to overlook the feeling because you were just alone in the room and no one really watched. Now you were actively being seen because even if the chat was running it was almost always positive comments that boosted your ego. Even other partners hadn't stepped into the space and maybe that's what was making it worse, you didn’t want to disappoint, but as you laid back on the pillows all stacked up to keep you slightly upright and looked at beomgyu it all faded away. He was watching you like he was seconds away from devouring you, that needy crease to his brow, the hem of his shirt rolled up just enough to show off his navel and waistband of his underwear. 

You lifted your knees to your chest using your arm to help keep them up, the way you were folded made your panties tighten against your cunt, the wet outline making gyus mouth water. He popped the button of his jeans, zipping down the zipper, to give him some release. You clicked on the vibrator, the hum the only sound in the room as you pressed it over your clit. Your reaction was instant, hips jerking and lashes fluttering. You could see the way beomgyus breathing increased, his hand pushed into his pants, lip between his teeth to keep his moans quiet. 

“I want to hear you,” you gasp, “I need to hear you,” 

beomgyu nods adam's apple bobbing, the breathy whimpers taking up all of the space in your mind until he pulls down his pants. His cock is heavy as it slaps against his stomach, beomgyu works fast to take off his shirt not caring where it lands as you focus in on every vein on his shaft. He's already so leaky, all his precum aiding his strokes. The visual of watching his hand working himself drives you insane, your imagination running wild as his hand pumps up and down stopping right at the flared tip, picturing exactly what it would feel like when he pushes into you. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you, the pretty sounds coming from your mouth alone have beomgyu following right after, both of you locking eyes across the room as you try to come down from your high. gyus stomach is covered in streaks of his cum, sliding down with every breath he takes. You click off the wand not wanting to overstimulate yourself letting it fall in the pillows next to you.

Your panties are completely soaked as you push them down, strings of wetness still clinging to the fabric. You toss them over to beomgyu who's eager to catch them, cleaning up the mess he's made only to wrap them around his still-hard cock, letting your combined cum work as more lube for his slow pumps. “Your cock is so pretty beomie, does it put the gift I gave you to good use?” 

beomgyus thrusts up into his hand at the nickname, “Yes, I-I make sure to give it clitty kisses just like you told me,” 

you run your fingers through your slick folds spreading your legs wider to give him a better view, “are you going to give me clitty kisses before you fuck me?” beomgyu has to pull his hand away from himself before he came again at the question. He had dreamed of tasting you; getting lost between your thighs. He dropped your panties making his way to kneel in front of you on the bed. You still had your shirt and skirt on and he helped take both of them off before hooking your knees over his shoulders. As much as he has seen your pussy on screen nothing beats in person, your swollen clit covered in your slick, his head framed by your thighs. beomgyu is licking his lips as you brush your fingers through his hair, pushing the strands behind his ears, his eyes flickering up to yours as he wraps his hands around your thighs to keep you still. “how is it that you look this edible?”

you roll your hips, the heels of your feet pushing into his back, “just get to eating me,” 

his lips ghost over your clit, your whimper drawing him closer, soft kisses dusting over every part of your pussy. You have to tighten your hold on his hair, pushing him to your clit to get him to move past all his teasing. beomgyu moans at the taste of you, the vibrations aiding his work on your clit. If he could spend the rest of the night between your legs overstimulating you he would. Every sound and movement in reaction to the way he's making you feel fuling him on. He's messy as he buries his face into you, all of your wetness gathered on his tongue as he circles your bundle of nerves, sucking deeply making you roll your head back. Your second orgasm is blinding as he presses two fingers into you, the pressure making you see spots, legs closing in around his ears. 

When beomgyu pulls away your legs feel weak when they rest back on the bed. He kisses up your stomach, loving your uneven breathing as you try to come back to reality. His mouth is all over you, tongue trialing your skin before he finds your nipples. Taking his time with each he lightly tugs them between his teeth, sucking along the delicate flesh leaving marks up and down your body. beomgyus thinking about seeing all the hickeys he's leaving on you when you stream, everyone knowing someone had their mouth on you. The thought alone has him humping into the mattress, your giggles waking him up as you run your thumb over his cheek, “who knew beomiebear would be so needy,” 

“only for you,” he confesses kissing your extended wrist, “please let me fuck you, please,” 

you don’t hesitate to let your legs fall open wider as an invitation beomgyus cock already pressed against your thigh, sticky still from earlier. “you don’t need to beg,” 

you help him guide himself to your entrance, mushroom tip pressing in enough to make you shiver, mouth opening in a silent moan at the feeling. beomgyu can’t contain his noises, eyes glued to where the two of you are connected. He pushed in further the sight of him disappearing into your cunt like a beacon he won’t look away from. He doesn’t look up to see your face until he gives one last thrust to fully knock his pelvis to yours. Your head is rolled back with that hazy fucked out expression and he’s hardly done anything at all. he rolls his hips back before pushing all the way back in your whimper tearing him apart. “you feel so fucking good,” 

beomgyu sits back on his heels dragging you with him, hands holding your hips as your back arches. The angle pushing him right against your gspot, your feet digging Into the mattress as gyu frantically picks up his pace. He guides your body down on his cock, every thrust making your boobs bounce. beomgyu is lost in the feeling, desperate whimpers escaping him, veins in his hands and arms bulging from his hold on you. 

“beomie,” the name slipping so easily, the whine making beomgyu feel like any second he would cum especially when you felt this warm, this wet. He was using you like his own personal cock sleeve focused solely on getting his cum as deep as possible into you. 

Blindly you reached out next to you for the vibrator, finding it and turning it on pressing it to your clit. beomgyu can feel his orgasm building aided by the way you’re squeezing him. Sloppily thrusting he feels the tightness in his balls, he presses as close as he can get himself to you. 

The fucked out expression on his face as his hot cum spills inside you triggers your orgasm, the wand pressed to your clit also pressed to the base of his cock overstimulating the both of you. You go to move it but beomgyu’s hand shoots out holding the vibrator in place watching the way your body convulses. Thighs trying to close in around him, your cries loud enough you know you’ll get a noise complaint. But beomgyu’s cock is still pulsing your body milking him in a way no one ever has before. 

It’s only when he sees the tears in your eyes that he pulls the wand away, switching it off and laying himself onto you. His mouth is on your neck, hammering pulse pressed to his lips as he gives you slow soft thrusts making sure you’re stuffed full of his cum. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers curling in the sweaty strands of hair at the base of his neck. Both of you catch your breath slowly coming back to yourselves. 

When he pulls out you feel the overwhelming gush of your combined cum slipping out and down to puddle on the mattress. beomgyu sat back watching in amazement. “I’ve always wanted to see what your pussy would look like after i was done with it,” two fingers scooping up anything he could to stuff it right back in.

🏷 taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 
@tomorrowxforever @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 
@cypher-03 @midnight-mochii @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 
@yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae

and a very special thank you to @fairyofshampgyu for beta reading this for me <33333

[viasdreams]

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

matching beomgyu’s freak !!

read pt.2 here !!

a/n: a piece of my soul </3

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

[fairyofshampgyu]

Now live ! stream: 8

Genre: camboy au, college au, smut, crack, ongoing series

Paring: : camboy! Beomgyu x gn reader (afab when smut)

Warnings: sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, forced concentration (is that a thing lol?) anyway he’s forced to read little red riding hood whilst given a hand job lmfaoo, blowjob, riding, use of petnames puppy, baby, creampie, degrading, edging, nipple clamps, nipple play, cockwarming

Synopsis: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he goes to the same uni as you, is even in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

Word count: 4.3k

“Go on. Keep reading, puppy.”

You watched beomgyu in amusement as he struggled to focus, the hand that held his phone trembling as he tried to read aloud the text on the screen but failing to do so with the way your hand pumped his cock.

You had told beomgyu if he was able to focus and read the passage of text until the end, then he’d be able to cum, but so far it was beginning to seem like a very challenging task for him.

Beomgyu sat on the edge of the bed, bathed in the soft glow of his fairy lights strung across his bed frame, the pink and white stripes of his signature thigh-highs adorning his legs, and his hello kitty belly button piercing gleaming in the dim light of the room. You were perched beside him, your hand leisurely wrapped around his cock, moving with a deliberate slowness that made his breath hitch every few seconds.

"Once upon a time," Beomgyu tries again, but his voice wavers as your thumb brushes over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum that gathered there. "There...there was a girl with a red cloak..."

You quicken the pace on his cock, hand still jerking him off and moving up and down on his length, hearing the sounds of tips flowing in from the stream.

Beomgyu bites his lip, his breath ragged. "A-as she was going through the w-woods, she met -ah- a wolf..." He stutters, his voice cracking with each stroke of your hand. He tries to focus, but every touch, every twist of your wrist, sends him spiraling. He’s fighting a losing battle, and you can see it in the way his eyes glaze over, unable to stay on the text.

He was so pretty like this, you thought. His skin was even more flushed than usual, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. The way his lips quivered, the soft whimpers that escaped his mouth—it was mesmerising. Beomgyu’s long lashes fluttered as he struggled to maintain control, his body betraying him with every movement of your hand on his cock.

@luvsubbyboys333: he looks so cute trying to concentrate! >_<

@angelsno1fan: he can't even finish a sentence haha aww

@live4angel: mess with him even more!

You can’t help but grin at the flood of comments, agreeing with them. He does look very cute when he's trying to focus. You're surprised he's even lasted this long and not made a fit about it. He gets so dumb and lost in pleasure whenever you touch him, you're quite amazed he hasn't even completely abandoned reading yet.

"Keep going, angel.” You coax, voice low and teasing as your thumb swipes over the head of his cock again, leaning in to nibble at the shell of his cute pink ear, breath warm against his skin, drawing out another helpless shiver and whimper from him.

To be honest, you’re a little disappointed. You had expected him to crumble and give up within seconds, looking at you with his sorrowful puppy eyes so you feel sorry for him and decide to call it quits. You liked seeing beomgyu plead and struggle and whilst it was clear he was struggling to focus with you jerking him off, it wasn’t quite enough. You wanted to see him become a desperate, needy mess for you and watch him beg. You weren’t satisfied yet and you knew the viewers weren’t either.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you lean down and get on your knees in front of him, spreading his legs and positioning your head between them. His breath hitches and he gasps, eyes widening, realising what you had in store for him and knowing he wouldn’t be able to last at all. He was such a sucker for whenever you sucked him off, losing himself entirely, his mind going blissfully blank. You’d made him go cross-eyed more times than you could count.

When you finally take him into your mouth, Beomgyu’s back arches off the bed almost instantly, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. His hands flying to the sheets, gripping them tightly as he tries to keep reading, but the words were lost on his tongue.

He tries, valiantly, to continue, but every word that left his lips are punctuated by stuttered breaths and choked moans, tumbling out in a messy, incoherent stream. "W-what big teeth you have said—oh god—little red riding hood. She..was...was…" His grip on the phone tightens, knuckles white. Beomgyu chokes on his breath as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. “The wolf—oh—said—f-fuck…”

You bob your head back and forth on his cock continuously, occasionally flicking your tongue over his sensitive tip and also the veins on the side, one hand gripping the flesh of his thighs and the other stroking the base of his dick and fondling with his nearly swollen balls, making him desperately moan even more.

Beomgyu’s attempts to keep reading are laughably futile by now, passage long forgotten as his eyes flutter shut, brows knitted cutely and his mouth hanging wide open, words dissolved into a chorus of moans and desperate little noises that drive the chat and yourself wild. His hand reaches out blindly, grasping at the air before settling on your hair, tangling his fingers trying to hold on to some semblance of control.

Beomgyu’s gaze is constantly flickering between the screen on his phone and also you, torn between the words he’s supposed to be reading and the sight of you with your lips wrapped around his cock. But he can’t even pretend to focus when the only thing on his mind is the way you look, sucking him off and looking up at him and the way your wet and warm mouth feels.

“You’re so pretty... so fucking prettyyyy,” Beomgyu whines needily, looking down at you with half lidded eyes, pitiful sounds escaping him. He can’t help it.

For some reason it makes your heart flutter. He barely manages to say anything whenever you fuck him, either whining or moaning and you’ve never heard him say anything like that to you before. But he’s just so out of it, he’s saying anything.

Ah, please...can’t read anymore.” Beomgyu whimpers and pleads at you, pouting.

@313angelluvr: Look at him, so pretty and hot 💓💓

@dom_23: Make him read it all, don't let him stop!

The rest of the viewers seem to agree, spamming the chat with similar demands.

You grin, taking a moment to glance at the screen. "They want you to keep going, baby. You can't stop now."

Beomgyu let’s out a slightly bratty, frustrated whine, furrowing his brows and bottom lip jutting out, but he reluctantly goes back to looking at the passage on his phone and trying to continue. You quicken your pace just to tease him more. You know he’s be on the edge any second.

“I’m gonna—oh god, I can’t—please, I need to cum,” he babbles, his voice high and strained and worried. “I can’t finish! I can’t focus! I’m gonna—”

But you pull back just before he cums, pulling off him with soft, wet pop and beomgyu lets out a pained, frustrated cry, his hips jerking up into the air in a desperate attempt to chase the sensation. You glance up at him, his flushed face, his half-lidded eyes glassy with tears of frustration, his lips parted as he gasps for breath. It’s a sight that sends a thrill through you.

You wrap your lips around his pretty cock again, starting all over and he attempts to read aloud again, hiccuping and lips trembling forever in a pout and sulky, still remnants of tears in his brown eyes. What a poor baby.

Soon enough, he’s pleading again, practically crying. “F-fuck-” His eyes roll back. “I-I really can’t pleaseee-”

"Yes you can," you murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze and stroke his thigh softly. "Don’t disappoint your fans. You’re doing so well, puppy.” He only a had a few sentences left until he was done. Beomgyu looks down at you and nods, trying to comply.

At last, after the last few painfully anticipated minutes of waiting for him to say out loud the last sentence of which he struggled greatly with, he was done with the passage on his phone.

"Does our Angel want to cum?" His eyes snap open, wide and pleading, and he nods frantically.

Finally, you take pity on him, increasing the speed of you sucking and stroking him. Beomgyu’s cries reach a fever pitch, his body shaking on the brink. Reaching one hand up his tummy and waist to brush over his nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between your fingers, beomgyu lets out a strangled moan, his voice high and needy and it tips him over the edge completely. You pop off him, watching him toss his head back and make a pretty mess all on himself, cumming so much, thick ropes of white all on his tummy and thighs,completely milking him.

The chat explodes with praise and tips but beomgyu barely registers anything, panting deliriously and chest heaving as he comes down from his high as you switch the stream off.

"You did so good," you murmur, leaning in to brush a kiss against his sweat-dampened forehead. Beomgyu clings to you, moaning in response, his hands roaming over your body as if he can’t get enough. His lips find yours, pressing against them with a fervor that catches you off guard. For a moment, you lose yourself in his pretty lips and the insistent way his fingers dig into your skin, but then you pull away, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you glance at the time on your phone. "I’ve got to go," you say, smoothing down your clothes.

Beomgyu’s expression falters when you pull away from him, frowning. “Why…?"

“I’m just meeting up with a friend soon.” You shrug.

“Who?” Beomgyu’s brows knit together in confusion.

“Just this guy I met in the music practice rooms.” You don’t know why you have to explain who you’re meeting up with to beomgyu.

“Oh, cool. Have fun.” You can’t help but notice the subtle tightening of his jaw when you say that. Or maybe you’re looking too much into it.

You nod, though there’s a strange heaviness settling in your chest. It’s not like you and Beomgyu are together, you’re only fucking him for money. But for some reason you feel guilty and you don’t know why.

It seemed that haechan was always in the music practice rooms whenever you were, bumping into him and his cello more often times than not. Your paths crossed so often in the halls of the music rooms that small talk had become a routine—casual chats about classes, music, and the occasional complaint about assignments. Eventually, the idea of grabbing coffee together seemed like a natural progression, so here you were, seated in a cozy little café near campus, getting to know each other better.

You didn’t mind haechan’s presence and you were happy to have made another friend, though he seemed quite reserved sometimes, there was a lot more to learn about him.

Haechan stirred his cappuccino thoughtfully before speaking, “So, you study music, right?”

“Yep.” You nod enthusiastically, taking a sip of your own drink.

Haechan nods and smiles, raising a brow. “Well, what do you want to do with it?”

The dreaded question. You sigh and lean back in your chair, considering his question. “Probably go into teaching. I’ve always wanted to be a composer, but I doubt that would happen.” You reply and shrug. You notice his cello case propped up beside his chair and you nod at it. “You’re really dedicated, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your cello. Why don't you study music?”

He chuckles softly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he lifts his cup to his lips. "I thought about it but my career options were better without it. It's more of a hobby. I study Business."

“But why did you quit the orchestra? I’ve heard you play—you’re really talented.” You ask him.

“I prefer playing alone.” Haechan shifts slightly uncomfortably in his seat. There's a moment of silence before he asks. “I've seen you hanging a lot with beomgyu. Are you dating him? Because, you know, he's got quite the reputation. Everyone knows he’s a fuckboy. You wouldn’t really want to date him.”

“What? No! We’re just friends.” A flash of irritation spikes through you. “And those are just rumors,” you insist, more defensively than you intended. “Someone started them, but it’s not true. He really isn’t like that at all.”

It really did frustrate you now every time you’d hear people whispering and talking about beomgyu on campus and in class, calling him a sleazy man whore and a slut and making up so much bullshit about him to entertain each other. You admit, you were one of those people before, thinking he was a fuckboy, but as you had grown closer and closer to beomgyu, you’d got to learn he was many things and so much more than what people liked to think he is. And you were surprised Haechan was quick to judge him too. It didn’t seem like his character.

“Yeah. He’s really not what people say. He’s sweet and funny and a good friend.” You don’t know why you felt the need to defend beomgyu so much to him.

For a moment, Haechan just watches you, his expression unreadable. Then, he lifts his coffee cup and sips again, “If you say so,” he murmurs.

The original plan was for you, taehyun, kai and beomgyu to bake cookies together. But with taehyun and kai suddenly swamped with studying for an upcoming exam, it was just you and beomgyu left to tacke it alone, the ones not so particularly skilled at baking, or mostly anything in the kitchen. You had initially intended to just watch taehyun handle the actual baking since he was really the only one who was good at it, while you all snuck tastes of the cookie dough when he wasn’t looking. Now, you were realising just how much you and beomgyu were in over your heads.

“Alright, so we need eggs, flour, sugar, bicarbonate soda…” Beomgyu reads from the recipe taehyun had scrawled on a piece of paper for you both, his voice filled with feigned confidence as he rummages through the cabinets and sets the ingredients on the counter. His brows furrow in concentration, and you can't help but think it was funny and also endearing at how serious he seemed.

"Okay, 120 grams of sugar.” Beomgyu reads, he glances up, expecting you to take action.

You fold your arms, narrowing your eyes, not really liking how he’s just ordering you to do it all. “Have you ever even made cookies before?”

Beomgyu puffs his chest out dramatically, as if wounded by your question. “Of course I have! Once for Mother’s Day... With my older brother... Years ago.” His voice trails off sheepishly. “Okay, maybe I watched him do it. But still.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, arms still crossed and standing.

Beomgyu grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief, shrugging. “Okay but how hard can it be? We just follow the recipe.”

Famous last words, you think, but you’re too amused by his enthusiasm to protest. You begin measuring out ingredients, and it doesn’t take long for chaos to arise. Beomgyu somehow manages to crack an egg with a little too much enthusiasm, splattering egg white all over the counter—and himself. It really was quite challenging following out a recipe.

You’re not entirely sure who initiated it, probably beomgyu, but a flour fight ensues as well, both of you laughing and running around the the mess of a kitchen, throwing fist balls of flour at each other.

He finally corners you against the counter, his arms around your waist as he looks into your eyes, not entirely sure if your heart was beating so fast because of how much running you’ve done or something else. “Okay, truce?” Beomgyu asks, a stupid grin tugging at his lips, softly brushing a strand of hair out your face with his flour covered hand, eyes gazing at you and down at your lips.

But you grab the bag of flour and throw it at his face one more time, making an escape.

“Hey!” He shouts after you.

You both erupt into giggles, covered head to toe in flour by the end, and it’s in that moment, as you’re doubled over with laughter together, that you feel a warm flutter in your chest. Beomgyu’s smile is so wide, one of his cheeks dimpled and his eyes crinkling at the corners, giving him whiskers.

“We seriously suck at this,” you snort, wiping flour from your face. “Taehyun is going to be so disappointed in us.”

“Let’s call him,” Beomgyu suggests, fishing his phone out of his floury pocket and facetiming taehyun. When taehyun’s face appears on screen, he takes one look at you both and groans.

“What the hell did you guys do?!!” Taehyun asks, exasperated but clearly amused. Behind him, huening kai is already screeching and dying in laughter.

“We’re baking, obviously,” Beomgyu says, turning the phone to show the mess on the counter and the bowl.

“Did you even follow the recipe?!” Taehyun sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as huening kai still giggles behind, tears in his eyes.

Beomgyu glances at the half-folded piece of paper on the counter, now smeared with butter and flour. “...Sort of?”

With Taehyun’s guidance, you somehow manage to salvage the cookie dough and get it onto the baking sheet. Beomgyu proudly shapes a few into misshapen bears, placing them on the tray with a flourish.

The cookies go into the oven, and finally you think you might be at peace, but it’s not long before, the overly sensitive fire alarm goes off, blaring loudly enough to make you both jump, sending you and beomgyu scrambling to open windows and fan the smoke with kitchen towels.

It doesn’t switch off unfortunately, and the entire building filled with college students, are forced to exit and line up outside.

“This is so embarrassing.” You groan, hiding your face in your hands as the two of you stand outside with the rest of the students, most of whom are looking annoyed or confused, grumbling about the alarm and how cold it was.

Beomgyu just laughs, sheepishly. “Clearly, baking is not our thing. Maybe we should just stick to streaming together.”

Once the all-clear is given and you’re allowed back inside, you return to find that your cookies, while not burnt to a crisp, are definitely on the overdone side. Beomgyu decides to make the best of it and carefully decorates them with icing and sprinkles, turning them into cute little bears, managing to make them look halfway decent despite their rock hard texture.

“You know what? They may be inedible, but they’re still cute,” you say, holding up your bear shaped cookie you had bitten.

Beomgyu smirks at his handiwork, a very proud look on his face as he waits for you to praise him even more.

“They’re like… really cute bricks.” You laugh, and beomgyu joins in, leaning his forehead against yours as you both dissolve into giggles.

“Maybe we can redeem ourselves on camera?” Beomgyu suggests.

Beomgyu whines underneath you, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back on the pillow, grip on your hips so tight as you continued to slide your pussy against his wet dick despite his constant pleas of actually letting him inside.

He was also wearing the pink nipple clamps, you both had newly attained with the money from the streams, his cute nipples extra flushed and perky and even more sensitive than they usually were, making touching and teasing and licking them even more entertaining than it usually was, body squirming and him moaning even prettier every time you did. The added sensation of you sliding against him and ministrations on his nipples, too much, but also not enough for him and he carried on crying and whining about it.

The viewers had also commented for you to actually just fuck him too since this had been going on for quite a long time now, beomgyu’s face dumb and fucked out, the slickness of both his precum and your wetness sliding together on him, making him go even more crazy.

“Please…even the viewers want you too…” Beomgyu pouts and whines at you, bringing his hand to reach at your wrist, pleadingly and hold onto you, but you pin his wrists down against the mattress, keeping him firmly in place. You roll your hips on him even more, bringing your mouth to his nipples to swirl at them, making him jolt and a strangled cry coming out of him. His tummy heaves intensely, watching his belly piercing go up and down as well.

“Hmm. Not yet, pretty boy. You’re so cute like this.”

He shivers, eyes fluttering shut as he bites down on his lip, trying to keep his composure. But every slow roll of your hips has him unraveling, the sweet agony of being so close yet so far from what he truly wants. “Just let me inside! Please! I just want to feel you, please, pleasee. Just wanna feel you.”

“Fine.”

He’s surprised you give in so easily, but he doesn’t seem to care all that much when you finally line up his dick with your pussy and sink slowly down on him. The feeling of your warm tight pussy making him go cross eyed for a second as he groans, mouth hung open in a sustained ‘o’ shape.

“Oh…t-thank you, thank you.” The look on his face is pure bliss, brows furrowed together.

“You can’t move.” You tell him.

“W-what?”

“You can’t move yet.” You reiterate again, leaning down to play with one of his nipples and lick at the other in the pink clamps, ghosting over it with your teeth, lightly biting at his swollen nipple, just enough to send him reeling.

“B-but!—” His back arches and he tries not to moan, but his protest his cut short.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You grin, looking down at his cute confused expression.

“No!”

But he knows there’s not much else he can do, having to lie underneath you, dick twitching inside your pussy, aching to move his hips as you carried on teasing his tits and also kissing his neck, body trembling with the effort to obey as he practically sobs. This was torture for him.

You clamp your pussy tightly around him, just to be a bit evil, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips. “Please, please—can’t take it. Need it so badd. Might die.” He gasps, the words tearing from his throat as his hips jerk slightly. The way he’s clenching his jaw, trying so hard to hold back, makes something in you soften, just a bit.

He’s a gorgeous wreck, flushed and panting, his entire being consumed by the need to move. His eyes are squeezed shut, thick lashes clumped and wet with unshed tears of desperation. He’s mumbling incoherently, words blending into a string of pleas and whimpers, each one more desperate than the last.

You press a kiss to his parted lips, swallowing his next moan as you finally, finally give in and begin to move, rocking your hips against his. The relief on his face is immediate. “Thank you.” Beomgyu breathes out, his voice cracking as he starts wildly and desperately thrusting up to meet you, unable to hold back any longer. “God, thank you, thank you…”

You begin to fuck him at an unrelenting pace immediately, bouncing on his cock up and down that your pussy smacks with his balls every time you sink back down, stickiness and skin slapping noises so lewd around the room and heard very clearly by your viewers in the stream too, which both of you had mostly forgotten by now. Beomgyu can’t contain his moans at all, strings and series of loud and high pitched whines and moans leaving his mouth one after the other, seemingly getting louder every second. His hands, still pinned by yours, flex and curl, fingers itching to touch you, so you let go of them and he tightly grabs hold of your hand.

When he finally cums, it’s with a choked off scream, his whole body shuddering as he spills so much into you, that you can practically see the creamy ring between you both, yet to pull out, his grip on your hand tightening until his knuckles turn white, throwing one arm over his head. He’s still babbling, words slurring together in the haze of his orgasm, mixed in with thank yous and breathless gasps of relief.

After the stream, beomgyu looks at you rather hesitantly, as if he has something he’s itching to say to you.

“So um…you know that famous camgirl, Winter01?”

“Yeah…?” You say, unsure of where this was going. You were aware of Winter, she was a very famous camgirl within the community, one of the most popular and big ones, always gaining so many views whenever she went live.

“Well, um…she messaged me privately and asked if we were together and I said no, so she asked if only me and her could film something together since she said she sees we’ve been been getting a lot of views ourselves lately. And she said that if we collaborated together, it could do really well…” Beomgyu plays with his fingers, waiting for you to say something.

“Oh. Just you?” Beomgyu nods.

“And you’re thinking of doing it?” You don’t why something weird pools in your stomach.

“W-well, if I do, then it would be good because more people will find our account as well by doing this because she’s so big. And we’ll make a lot of money out of it…” Beomgyu looks down, not meeting your gaze.

“Well, it’s up to you if you want to.” You shrug, trying to maintain a very nonchalant expression. Although the idea of beomgyu streaming with someone else and not you makes you feel inexplainably horrible.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: I finally wrote for this series after over a year !! Everyone applause me 😭 I’m really sorry if this was just horribly written, I haven’t written for this series in a really long time and it took me so long to try and gain some motivation to so I’m very sorry if it’s disappointing 😭 also the taglist is old and if you wish to be taken out or added, please lmk ! ALSO LMAO DONT ASK WHY HES READING LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. LET IT BE PLEASE I DIED MYSELF 😭😭 this is also not proofread

Taglist:

@jayoonology @pogigyu @denleave1088 @mashimarshmello @cha0thicpisces @soobsfairy444 @lcvetyvn @1ummcalhoody6 @imrllytootiredforthis @bjttersweets @aliceoracleollormusic @yongboksgf @daniarafid @nyanggk @aggiebackstage @qluvr @artypjmlbss @dickdeprived @lilactangerine @kissmeow @katsukeis @shutupheathersorryheatherr @mastergibbs93 @tae-ology @lynanist @guavagyu @soobhns @mikeeel @multistansimp4life @goquokka @scarfac3 @roses-for-my-love @maxismp1 @peachenle @i-loved-you42 @vampcharxter @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @yuhjoeyuh @ren-junwrld @eggeutarteuu @staurdvst @vivioluh @itbtoblikethatsometimes @nct-dreamteam @ixayjun @beomgewwwwww

(Ask to be added to the taglist !!)

[sophvilla]

Baby, is it gonna fit ?

⋆ ˚｡⋆ TXT SERIES ⋆ ˚｡⋆

Pairing: Bf! Soobin X Gf! Femreader

Synopsis: Soobin didn't know that he had a Size Kink at all, it all started Innocent but Deep down he Truly Knows that it's not Innocent at all.

Warning: Smut, MDNI, 18+, Size kink, Unprotected, Reader gets called ( Baby, Princess, My Love, Babygirl) etc.

CHOI SOOBIN | 최수빈

Soobin has a major size Kink....

It all started with how small and short you look beside his 6’1 frame, he is twice as taller then you and to which he somehow felt proud about it, comparing how small your hand are in comparison to his, huge hands then,

How small you looked in his Gigantic Shirt as he smiled like fool watching you drown in his clothes.

He didn’t think that something this innocent will become something so…..kinky,? But it actually did cause..

Whenever his cock was buried deep inside of your cunt all he can think of is how tightly you’re squeezing around his Length, watching how good you’re taking him with tears streaming down your face as you take inhuman thrust.

He watches as his cock disappear inside your that tight little hole that felt like a glove to cock, pounding inside your Sensitive pussy as you already cum for the second time, begging him that you can’t take it anymore to which he replies,

“ Yess you can, my love, ..take all that I’m giving you” as you dumbly nod at his words through your tears proving the fact how fucked out you are right now,

Continuing to abuse his cock inside your overstimulated pussy as it reaches your cervix making your eyes roll back at the stretch and pleasure you feel,

“God, you feel so good around me” Your boyfriend rasp out between his brutal pace of thrusts, You mumble out incoherent words between your moans of pleasure,

“ huh ..uh ….keep going-g” you said in between your hiccups as you feel yourself reaching your third orgasm of the night

“Fuck, look at you right now” He grins upon hearing your request and obliging to it immediately as his thrust turns more Deep and rhythmically harder into your cunt making a clapping sound of Skin Smacking against eachother, making you tremble at the newly set pace,

“you want to come, princess?”

“Y-yes, I- please---”

“Then cum for me babygirl, cum on my cock” Soobin says out of breath as he cums at the same time filling you up with his cum but doesn't stop with his thrust as he continues to fuck his cum into your sensitive pussy making you clench around his cock in an extremely tight grip.

His hips started to give desperate thrust into you, as one of his hands pulls your body even more closer then it was and the other hand pulling your hips closer to his as He started to grind his hip back and forth to yours causing even more friction then ever,

"fucking hell baby, you feel so fucking good." He grunts out, Head falling back as His hand let go of your hip and wrapping his hand around your delicate neck and start to fuck you even harder, in his head all he can think of how Fucking small you are compared to him, How he can easily break you, or How your small cunt is taking his huge cock,

Breaking away from his Trail of thought His eyes focus on yours at how you look on the verge of passing out,

Soobin's constant thrust of his hip inside you, making you too fucked out to even move from the mix of pain & pleasure that your receiving, all you can do is moan and scream at how good you feel right now,

With each thrust, you quite literally Screamed. Seems like you were too sensitive at this point. The sensation of him repeatedly slamming his hips against you turned you into a sobbing mess,

And when his climax exploded for the fourth time within you with one last powerful thrust, his hot cum spurting hard, stuffing you to the brim and painting your womb white— you clawed at him, tugged him closer to your breasts as a mix of scream and moan of his name escaped your lips, trembling at the depth to which he was burying himself inside you.

You were panting, totally spent, sensing the familiar way of his cum trickling down your thighs as Soobin lays inside of you, not pulling out immediately as his cock continues to breed his cum inside of your womb as Soobin gazes down to your flushed goddess like face,

" When did I get so lucky" Soobin mumbles while looking at your sleepy smile that you give him as you drift into slumber

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

choi soobin x afab!reader

summary: After you found out the smarty-pants in your class was in love with you you thought it would be fun to play around with him a bit, but things take a wrong turn when he is the only one you can text when you are horny and he doesn't hesitate and runs to you, making you feel better than any of your ex boyfriends could.

words count: 3.9k

warnings: smut content, she/her pronouns used twice (in the texting part) sorry 🙏, oral, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (don't!!), cum eating, gentle sex, squiting, idk tbh

You glanced to your side, watching the black-haired boy on the other side of the classroom as he wrote down some notes. If you were to be honest, you weren’t paying any attention to what the teacher was saying, so you had no idea what he was writing down either. But it didn't matter anyway, you knew he would let you copy his notes later. 

It was one of the perks of having the class’s smarty-pants be in love with you. You chuckled when you saw him look your way too, smiling at him before you turned away again. 

“What's going on there?” The black-haired girl next to you asked, her eyebrow raised as she pointed at the male on the other side of the class. “Why do you two keep stealing glances at each other?” 

“You know Yeonjun, right?” You asked, watching as the girl next to you nodded. “Who doesn't,” your best friend scoffed. “What does he have to do with anything?” 

“Well, he is the one that told me last week our little nerdy here has a crush on me. It all makes sense now if you think about it. I couldn't wrap my head around why he would always send me the lesson notes when I asked for them but not to others. I told Ryan he could ask Soob because I thought he wouldn't have any problems with it, but it turns out he only sent them to me to get me to like him, or something,” You explained, watching as your best friend laughed quietly. 

“It's kind of cute though that he does that.” 

“But I don't want ‘cute’ anymore,” you rolled your eyes. “I want someone who can actually make me cum and not just stare at me questioning why I wouldn't finish as if he even tried.” 

“Okay, I know the last boy was a fail as fuck, literally, but who knows,” the black-haired girl shrugged. “You want to tell me you think he of all people could make me cum?” You scoffed. “Please, he probably hasn't fucked a girl in his life.” 

You said that, but God, you had no idea what was coming your way. 

“Who are we gossiping about?” You turned as you heard the male’s voice, scoffing at how needy he was for the tea. “No one,” you shook your head. “Your rival,” your best friend grinned, answering instead when you didn’t do so. The blond boy scoffed, looking at the black-haired boy. “Oh yeah, I am so sure he didn’t fuck a girl - or anyone else - in his life,” he agreed. 

“I am pretty sure I’ve been with a girl more times than he has,” Ryan next to him nodded, joining their conversation. “Kinda crazy,” you commented, laughing. Before you could say anything else, you were stopped by the teacher hitting the board with his hand, making you look his way. “As I was saying,” he started his speech again, giving you a warning look before he turned around, facing the board again so he could write down a few things. 

Your head fell on the table soon after out of boredom, and before you could even start paying attention to what the teacher was talking about, the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson. 

“Okay, guys, who is coming with me to grab lunch?” Your best friend turned towards you and the two boys behind you. “I am passing,” you mumbled immediately, not even fully sitting up and simply turning your head towards her. “I am going,” Ryan proclaimed, already standing up from his place, the blond following him right after. 

“Okay, I see you guys later, then,” you smiled at them, waving them off as they left the classroom. You knew you should get up too and move to your next class, but you were starting to feel unwell, and the thought of getting up sounded terrible. You sighed, closing your eyes for a few seconds. You knew this classroom was empty for another hour or so anyway. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You opened your eyes again upon hearing the soft voice and feeling the tap on your shoulder, blinking a few times to make your eyes focus again. “Mhm, sure I am,” you mumbled, sitting up straight as you looked around. The class was empty by now, only the two of you were left there. “Why? Were you worried about me?” You chuckled, teasing him. Suddenly, it was as if your headache completely disappeared when you saw the nervous look on his face. “Relax, I am joking,” you shook your head, but couldn’t hide your smile. 

“I don’t want to annoy you,” you started, slowly packing your stuff as he stood beside you, waiting like a puppy. “But do you think you could give me today’s notes, Soob?” 

“You-” he gulped, trying to ignore the nickname. There was simply something about you calling him Soob. “I don’t want it for free though. You could consider it as me owing you one and helping you when you’d need it?” You suggested as you stood up, grabbing your now packed bag. “Uhm, sure,” he nodded, not even paying full attention to what you were saying. 

“I’ll text you tonight about the notes then,” you beamed happily, looking like a completely different person as you placed your hand on his arm as a sign of thank you. You were devastated minutes ago, but whoever would see you now wouldn’t believe him if he told them so. Soobin wasn’t sure why, but he was glad you looked fine again. 

Soobin threw his bag on the side of his room, jumping into his bed immediately after the long day. He laid down on his back, simply staring at the ceiling of his room. He reached into his pocket for his phone, seeing two unread messages from his best friend. He opened his phone, staring at the two texts. “Look at Instagram” “Thank me later” There wasn’t much for him to question. Even though to many it might seem confusing, he knew exactly whose Instagram he should check. There was only one person that the two of them talked about together after all. 

The black-haired male clicked on the icon, waiting for the story to load for a second. Then his eyes widened at the sight. It was a picture of you, but not just any picture. He sat up immediately, looking properly at your body. You were wearing a white top, cropped slightly above your waist. He couldn’t help but notice you weren't wearing a bra underneath, your nipples showing through the fabric. Then he saw the black miniskirt, that you definitely pulled higher than you should. He gulped, remembering how you touched his arm earlier today, your fingers brushing on his skin as your hair fell in front of your face. 

He whined silently as he felt his boxers becoming tighter the more he stared at the picture, your body curves exposed for anyone to see. He shared the story with Yeonjun, his best friend, and immediately texted him how good you looked. 

Only, did he not know it wasn’t Yeonjun he shared the story to.  

Soobin stared at the messages, screaming as he turned his phone off faster than ever before. He couldn’t believe it. He just told you he needed you. There wasn’t anything worse that could be happening at the moment. Not to mention the image of your body was still stuck in his head, making him hard. 

He stared at the messages again, his heart fighting with his brain at that moment. He didn’t want to make you do anything, he felt like it would be too forced, even though you were the one suggesting it. But a part of him knew this was his only chance. There was no way he could get you differently. He knew about your dating history, so he also knew you had never been with anyone like him. It was always the boys like Yeonjun, who just understood how to talk to girls properly, how to make them fall for them. But he wasn’t like that, he had no idea what he was doing. 

And just like that, he was in front of your place, rethinking his decisions as he knocked on the front door, trying his best to ignore the boner in his pants that still hadn’t gone down. How could it be when you shared a picture like that with him?

“You came,” you mumbled as you opened the door, looking up at him. Soobin looked down on you, noticing the same top you had in the Instagram picture. He gulped, his eyes then falling on the bottom part of your body and the white panties that were the only thing you were wearing. “How could I not?” He whispered, making sure this picture would stay in his mind. 

You grabbed his hand as you took him inside, closing the door behind you immediately. It was only now that you noticed how big his hands were against yours. You just hoped he could use them too. 

Soobin blindly followed you to your bedroom, his mind full of thoughts about how he should go about this, while his eyes were stuck on your ass, unable to look away as you walked in front of him. 

“Can I-” he started as his eyes followed you while you sat on your bed. “You can do absolutely anything, Soob,” you interrupted him, watching as his face turned red. “Soob? Soobie?” You smirked, noticing what the nicknames did to him. “Is that what turns you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on,” he admitted, slowly getting closer to you while you moved back, not taking your eyes off him. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. You simply bit your bottom lip as you found him above yourself, holding eye contact. This was becoming more intimate than you thought it would. 

“Is it okay for me to kiss you?” He wanted to assure himself one more time. You thought about it for a second, not wanting to give him any hope, but also desperately needing his lips on yours. You nodded to him in the end, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him closer to yourself, pressing your lips on his, your mouth slightly opened which only made it easier for him. 

His right hand found its way to your boob, carefully sliding under your top, his cold fingers brushing over your nipple. You groaned into the kiss, clenching around nothing but thin air. It felt pathetic. He had barely touched you and you were already getting wet. 

Soobin left your mouth for a second, getting a disagreeing whine immediately that made him smile as he started placing wet kisses all over your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone and then between your boobs. Your lips parted as you breathed out from the pleasure, raising your head to look at him. “Mhm, take it off,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his sleeve. He didn’t hesitate for a second and listened to you, taking his shirt off while you took down your own, exposing your breast to him completely. 

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, feeling more and more uncomfortable in his sweatpants. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at your body one more time before his lips found their way to your breast again, his hand cupping one of them as he pressed kisses on your other boob, his tongue making wet circles around your nipple. 

“Fuck,” it was you groaning this time, quiet moans escaping your lips as your nipples became hard at his touch. “Soob, please,” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Please, what? Hm?” He asked, not even looking up and just continuing what he had been doing until now, his lips moving down again, leaving wet traces on your stomach now as his hands found their way to your waist. “I don’t know. Just- fuck,” you moaned out again when you felt his lips on your clit through your panties. 

“Just?” He asked again, looking up at you. You could swear you had never seen anything better in your life. The male was in between your legs, his breath landing right on your clit as he looked at you, absolute need in his eyes. 

“Just fuck me already,” you begged, watching as he took down your panties, his eyes fixated on your already leaking pussy. “I don’t think so,” he informed you, moving up again so he would face you. “I doubt you could take it just like that,” he whispered, moving his fingers to your lips. You didn’t need to hear anything else and immediately opened your mouth, sucking on his fingers. 

Before you could even register his actions you felt him slowly inserting his two fingers into you, carefully watching you. He did so to make sure he was doing everything right. You weren't completely wrong when you said he probably hasn’t been with a girl in his life. He couldn’t say he would have much experience, but all of his friends were sex addicts - and now he could finally see why - and they couldn’t keep their mouths shut every time the topic came up, so it was only natural for Soobin to catch on to a few things. 

You gasped, your eyes rolling back. You knew there was an obvious difference in your hand sizes but god, his fingers were bigger than you thought. “Fuck, curl them now,” you commanded, not daring to look down. He did as you said, feeling his precum on his boxers. He wanted nothing more but to fuck you right then and there, but he knew he had to wait. 

It didn’t take much longer for you to squirt on his fingers, especially after he added pressure to your clit too, his thumb making slow circles around while his fingers were stretching your inside. 

“Can I eat you out, please?” He asked, looking up at you again, his thumb still rubbing your clit slowly. “Please, y/n,” he begged, making you go crazy. You weren't sure if it was the way he begged you, the way he said your name, or because of his breath on your skin, but you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to. “God, please do,” you whined out and just like that, his tongue was pressed on your pussy right away, not wasting any second of the time he had with you. 

It had been months since you had cummed thanks to a boy, so you didn’t have any expectations for him when you invited him over. But you were wrong when you thought no boys knew how to take care of their girls anymore because he did exactly what he should, making you cum on his tongue a few minutes after he went down on you, not leaving your trembling cunt even then, letting you ride out your orgasm as his nose was pressed on your clit, his tongue carefully licking every last bit of your cum. 

“Soob,” you groaned, pulling his hair, making him finally raise his head and look at you. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, going up again to kiss you. “And delicious,” he informed you, pressing his lips on yours. “Fuck, Soob, you’re too good,” you mumbled before you kissed him again, slowly sitting up. “Come closer,” you said, grabbing the hem of his pants, and pulling him closer at the same time. 

He groaned, his eyes shut tight, his lips unable to stay away from yours. You smirked into the kiss, your hand grabbing his trembling cock over his pants, making him moan. “I don’t usually do this but…” you started, breaking your kiss so you could look at his body properly. “You were so good earlier,” you praised him, not breaking your eye contact as you changed your position so you would be kneeling. “Pants off, baby,” 

That alone was enough to make him go crazy. You calling him baby just did something with his head. And with his dick. 

“Fuck,” You breathed out when you finally pulled down Soobin’s pants and boxers, your pussy clenching around nothing again. You knew he would be bigger because of his height, but this was more than you had expected. 

He cupped your cheeks, making you look up at him. “Are you sure?” You chuckled, simply nodding. “I can take good care of you too, you know,” you proclaimed, looking up at him as your right hand wrapped around his cock, not breaking your eye contact. You knew it must have been making him go insane. 

You started slowly, simply kissing his tip and licking off his precum. Then, you decided to try to take his full length into your mouth, but stopped shortly after getting to his half, already feeling like you were going to gag any second. There was no way you could do this. 

However, Soobin saw it differently. To him, it looked like you were playing with him, moving slowly and carefully on purpose to tease him. His hand found its way to your head, carefully tugging the hair that was getting in front of your face behind your ears before he held your chin up, making you look at him, his dick still in your mouth. “Think you can go faster, pretty? Please,” He asked, hoping maybe begging would help him. 

He groaned when he felt you suck harder, trying to go faster too but failing miserably. He chuckled at the sight, his hand in your hair so he could control the speed himself. “If you want to stop, just punch me, or something, okay? Try not to bite my dick off if you can’t take it anymore, though,” he told you, and before you could even look up at him again and question what he was talking about, he was moving with your head on his own as if you were just a toy to fulfill his needs. If you were honest, you were glad he did so. It was turning you on more. 

“Fuck, just a bit more,” he moaned out, thrusting his hips into your mouth as you sucked on him. He didn’t dare to look at you just yet, he felt like he would stop if he saw you in the moment, scared he might have been hurting you by determining his speed. 

When Soobin finally looked at you there were tears in your eyes, and his cum was all over your mouth. He cupped your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumbs. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You looked up at him, high on all the pleasure you felt until now thanks to him. God, you knew you needed to do this more often from now on. You licked the corner of your mouth, making sure not a single drop was wasted. 

“You’re not done yet, are you?” You asked, your puppy eyes almost making him cum again right away. “Fuck, no I am not,” he answered, leaning down to you to kiss you again. 

Soon after, Soobin found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, his back pressed against the white walls while you sat on him, your head on his shoulder, biting into his skin so you wouldn’t get too loud as he fucked you. Holding your ass, he was helping you remain at the same speed, moaning along with you. “So close, Soob,” you cried out. “Hold in a bit more,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he felt himself getting closer to finishing again, too. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, a mixture of your own and Soobin’s cum leaking from your pussy. You raised your head slowly, your cheeks completely red as you looked into his eyes, still sitting on his cock. “Soob, this was the best sex I’ve ever had. God, you were so good.” He bit onto his bottom lip, watching your fucked out face. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, even more embarrassed than you were. “Does that mean you’ll let me fuck you again next time?” 

“Soob…” you mumbled, just watching him for a second before you carefully got off him. He just shook his head before you could say anything else. “I know, I know, don’t worry,” he muttered. “I still needed to try it,” he smiled awkwardly, his dimples being the cutest thing you had ever seen. “Let me help you clean yourself up before I leave. It's the least I can do,” He suggested. You nodded to him, convinced this was the last time you were together like this. You couldn't be more wrong though. 

You knew you couldn’t stay away from him for too long when he helped you to get into your bathroom and his fingers found their way to your clit again, making you melt at his touch. Even worse was when he carried you to your bed after he switched your bedsheet for you, asking you to let him eat you out one more time before he would leave you alone for good. 

You just couldn’t let him get away. 

“Fuck, Soob,” you mumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed, watching him kneeling in front of you, begging to feel your cum on his tongue again. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” His innocent eyes looked up at you, his hands rubbing your thighs. You sighed, “Just stay here.” 

You could swear you saw sparks in his eyes as the words left your mouth. “Really? Can I?” 

You nodded, agreeing. “Sleep here tonight, I’ll let you eat me out again next time.” 

Soobin smiled proudly, his hands squeezing your thighs. “Only next time?” 

“God, just come here,” you proclaimed, pulling him up from the floor into a warm kiss, feeling his hands roaming on your body again. The night was still nowhere to be done.

[dawngyu]

THE SLOW SURRENDER

Pairing: chaebol husband choi beomgyu x wife chaebol fem!reader

summary: The fear that you’re losing something you never truly had. Your own ring, now too heavy in your palm. A ring that should have meant forever.

Your deepest fear. Your husband.

warnings: reader discretion is advised. infidelity, arranged marriage, slow-burn, angst, toxic dynamics, emotional attachment, miscarriage!, misunderstandings, lovelorn, alcohol!consumption, guilt, repentance, rectification, accident, DUI(pls don't), anxiety!, panic-attack, implication of postpartum!depression, used different idols as ocs. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please step back. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, dubcon, explicit!descriptions, different smut-scenes. guilt-ridden!smut,beomgyu begging and crying while doing"it".

wc: 24k — playlist here.

notes: may this story tear you apart, and somehow, when it’s over, stitch you back together piece by piece.

a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading. ilysm.

How is it that your own wedding makes you want to flee?

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

His voice is strangely distant—the words belong to someone else, rehearsed and repeated.

The ring slips onto your finger, its cold touch startling against your skin. You can’t tell if it’s the chill of the metal that makes you shiver—or the way his voice carries an indifference that seems to sit deep in your chest, pulling your breath with it.

The wedding dress—tailored from the finest silk, adorned with labyrinthine details—feels like something borrowed. Isn’t this supposed to be every girl’s dream? The happiest day of your life? The moment where everything begins—the start of your own family, your own story?

None of it feels like it. Not when he hasn’t said a single word to you since you arrived. It plagues your mind. And all you want to do is kick off the heels that bite into your feet, rip off the tiara that feels like a crown of lead, and run.

You let out a shaky exhale, the breath trembling in your chest when the ring settles on your finger. Your hands slip from his grasp, falling limply to your sides. The vows are done, the words spoken, but all you feel is an overwhelming urge to escape.

Your head turns, seeking the one person who feels safe. Your unsteady gaze finds Soobin, his worried eyes already fixed on you. He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, the kind only he would know how to give. All you want is to fall apart—to let the tears come, to crumble into the silent comfort of his eyes, whispering it’s okay.

The pastor’s voice pulls you back, and your soon-to-be husband cups your face with a tenderness that feels reluctance, almost calculated. Hands warm but the eyes that meet yours, cold.

He leans in, and you close your eyes. His lips brush yours, soft, landing just shy of your bottom lip.

“And now, I pronounce you husband and wife,” the pastor declares, the words echoing hollowly in your ears.

Everyone claps.

It's official.

He is now your husband.

"Can you at least smile?" your mother’s sharp voice cuts, gaze fixed on you with her usual expectation. Her lips press together in disapproval. "I don’t want you embarrassing us, honey," she adds, eyes narrowing.

You force a small, strained smile as another guest offers their congratulations. The words feel hollow, and meaningless.

"Mother." Soobin’s voice interrupts, his equally sharp gaze lands on her, and without waiting for her permission, he steps closer, hand brushing your elbow. "We have friends over there. I’ll take Y/N for a bit."

Your mother opens her mouth, distaste printed on her face. "I could go with her—"

"It’s just our friends, Mother," Soobin interjects, his words clipped but polite enough to stop her in her tracks. "Nothing that requires your attention. Besides, I believe Miss Park was trying to get your attention earlier."

Before she can argue further, Soobin’s hand slips into yours, and he gently tugs you away. The grip is reassuring, steady—something to anchor you in this mess.

The crowd seems endless. More congratulations, more empty smiles. Your eyes wander, scanning the room, searching for the one person who should be at your side. But he isn’t there. He isn't… here.

Your husband is nowhere to be found. He vanished as soon as the ceremony ended.

Soobin doesn’t say anything as he leads you into a quiet, empty room. Once inside, he shuts the door firmly behind you, sealing out the noise of the party.

The second the door clicks, his hands are on your face, cradling you like you might break. And you do.

"Soobin," you choke out, your voice trembling. Hot tears stream down your face, and he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Shh," he murmurs, his voice shaky, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. "It’s okay. Let it out."

The tears come in waves, carrying with them all the weight you’ve been holding in—every forced smile, every empty thank yous, every aching reminder of your husband. That today isn’t what it should be.

"It hurts me," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "It hurts me that my dearest, sister had to go through with this." His words tremble, just like his hands that hold you tightly.

You can’t bring yourself to reply. Instead, you cling to him, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket—making his heart clench. "Where the fuck is he anyway?" his voice betrays his frustration.

"I don’t—I don’t know," you whisper through your sobs. "How am I supposed to do this, Soobin? He wouldn’t even look at me." And beneath it all, the deeper truth haunts you. It isn’t just his absence or his coldness that hurts.

It’s the undeniable, unspoken reality that settles into your bones and refuses to leave: Choi Beomgyu doesn’t love you—not the way you love him.

The echoes of your wedding vows dance in your ears. For better or worse, you hear. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health.

Until death do us part.

Three families—known as the Choi Enterprises—dominate the landscape of your country.

Names synonymous with power, wealth, and control. Together, they form an empire that touches nearly every facet of life, businesses towering over the economy like unshakable pillars.

Untouchable.

The first family commands the skies. They own the nation’s largest airline, a fleet that spans lands, with Choi Yeonjun, the celebrated heir, poised to inherit it all.

The second family shapes the skyline with their sprawling malls, and colossal structures that symbolize luxury and excess. Choi Beomgyu, their only son, is the face of it.

And then there’s your family, the architects of indulgence. You own the most prestigious hotels in the country, five-star havens that host the rich, the famous, and the powerful. Your brother, Choi Soobin—the prodigy, the golden child who has been groomed for this role his entire life.

And then there’s you. The second child. Since young, you were conditioned, moulded—not to lead, not to build, but to belong to someone else. To be a wife. One whose marriage would serve a purpose, a bargaining chip in a deal that you have no voice to protest.

Every day since you came of age felt like walking on thin ice, never knowing when it would crack beneath you. You lived with the constant dread that your father could announce your engagement at any last moment. If you were lucky, perhaps it would be someone whose face you recognized, or someone whose name didn’t sound foreign on your lips.

The three families have stood side by side for decades, their ties intertwined by history and convenience. With the heirs of each family so close in age, it was inevitable that you all ended up in the same place: a ridiculously expensive university your families could buy their way into.

It was no surprise that you had known Choi Beomgyu since you were children. And that you've loved him since.

Though you could never quite pinpoint when it began.

Your nine-year-old eyes scanned the room, overwhelmed by the sea of adults towering over you. Too many big, tall people, too many unfamiliar faces. It was the first time your dad had brought you along, always choosing your older brother instead. Never you.

“Would you like something to eat, Y/N?” your nanny asked. You shook your head, distracted. You were trying to find your brother, the one you’d begged to follow today, only to lose him. You had thought this place would be exciting, but now, you would have preferred serving tea to your dolls.

This place wasn’t fun at all.

When your nanny got busy with a conversation, you seized the chance to slip away. You weaved through the crowd, ducking under tables when the adults became too dense. You spotted Soobin ahead, standing with his friend—Yeonja? No, Yeonjun. The one who teased you mercilessly whenever he visited your house. They were too far away.

Giggling with excitement, you ran towards them, eager to finally reach your brother. But your foot caught on the edge of a rug, and you fell hard. “Ow.” You whimpered, face smacking the floor. A sharp, stinging pain in your mouth made your eyes well up. You wiped at your lips and froze when your fingers brushed against something small and hard.

Your front tooth had come out. “No. Soobin, Daddy!” you wailed, embarrassment creeping in as people started to stare. You were about to shout again when a boy appeared, no taller than you, holding out a handkerchief.

“Use this,” he said.

“No,” you mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t want it.”

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Do you want everyone to think you’re ugly?” His words made you pause, his brown eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something else—something protective. The way he stood, it was as if he was shielding you from the judgmental eyes around you. “If you keep crying like that, everyone will think you are.”

The bluntness startled you, and it worked. Your mommy doesn't like it whenever you're crying anyway. She says it's unsightly. You grabbed the handkerchief, sniffling as you dabbed at your mouth. He watched you stand wobbly, one brow raised in quiet observation.

“Soobin?” he asked, recognizing your brother’s name.

You nodded, surprised that he knew.

He nodded back, taking your pinkie in his small hand and leading you across the yard, toward your brother safely.

That day was the day you first met your husband.

"Hey, have you heard? Choi Beomgyu and Park Ji-won broke up for the fourth time this semester," Jake, one of your batchmates, announces with a grin, his voice cutting through the chatter of your little group. The names make you freeze mid-conversation. "It’s hilarious, bro. Ji-won was literally stomping her feet like a kid."

"You little scandalmonger," Ryu-jin quips from beside you, rolling her eyes. "Why are you so invested in them? They’re a batch ahead of us. We don’t even cross paths with them."

You won’t encounter Choi Beomgyu often. The last time you had a proper, civil conversation—one forced by your parents—was when you were fifteen, and even then, your brother had been there too. That was five years ago.

During your first year, Choi Beomgyu was in the second. He got a girlfriend, Park Ji-won, the queen bee of their batch. Beomgyu was already famous, and their relationship quickly gained a reputation of its own, known for its ups and downs, the drama playing out like a spectacle for everyone to watch.

“Uh, h-hi, Y/N.” A boy stammers nervously in front of you. You look up, surprised to see him holding out a small box of chocolates. “I… I made these for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft smile forms on your lips as you reach out to take it. “Thank you, Hanbin.”

The way his name rolls so easily off your tongue catches him off guard. His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep shade of red. He stammers out something that might be “you’re welcome” before ducking his head in a quick bow and practically fleeing the scene.

As he disappears into the crowd, Ryu-jin lets out a low whistle, her grin mischievous. “Oh-ho, my ever-charming and impossibly kind Y/N,” she teases, pinching your cheek in a way that makes you laugh and bat her hand away.

You hold the box of chocolates out to her, and without missing a beat, she takes it with a delighted, “Don’t mind if I do!”

“Why do you always know everyone’s names?” Jake asks, leaning over to snag a piece of chocolate before Ryu-jin can stop him. He pops it into his mouth, then gives you a mock incredulous look. “There are way too many people trying to win you over. If I were you, I wouldn’t even bother keeping track.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t really try to memorize their names, Jake,” you explain, your voice softening. “But when someone puts themselves out there like that—when they go out of their way to do something kind for me—even if I don’t feel the same, the least I can do is acknowledge it. Knowing their name… it’s just part of respecting the effort they made.”

Jake leans back, arms crossed, pretending to look unimpressed. “You’re way too nice for your own good, you know that?”

The rest of the conversation became a blur. The details didn’t matter—they never really did. Choi Beomgyu had gotten back together with her again. That’s how it always went, didn’t it? Still, your mind dawdled on him, as it often did, bonded to a memory from so long ago: the boy with sceptic eyes and a hand who had guided you safely to your brother.

You couldn’t explain it fully, this quiet pull you felt toward him.

Maybe it was the way he kept to himself at gatherings, speaking only when necessary. His words always carried a weight your mother would later describe as "intelligent," her tone laced with rare approval. It could’ve been his eyes, dark and warm, matching the soft chaos of his hair. Or perhaps it was his low voice, that left a faint shiver dancing along your spine without warning.

Life had always been laid out for you, each piece polished and placed neatly on a silver platter. Nothing ever seemed truly exciting, not when you could have anything you wanted with minimal effort. You’d never been particularly interested in dating, either. Why chase something when the pursuit itself felt dull?

Choi Beomgyu was… different. He wasn’t even someone you could simply talk to. Maybe that’s why he fascinated you so much.

He's impossible to ignore.

"He's sick again… ugh."

The words grated on your nerves, cutting through the hallway like nails on a chalkboard. You were at your locker, minding your own business, stacking books into your bag. Ji-won’s loud voice, drew the attention of everyone within earshot.

You were ready to walk away from the nauseating cheap fog of their perfume, when her next words stopped you cold.

"Beomgyu's sick," she continued, tossing her hair back like it was some grand inconvenience to her. "We went shopping yesterday, and he lent me his umbrella when it rained. Now he's sick. Honestly, such an idiot move."

How could she talk about him like that? Here, in front of all these people, where anyone could hear?

"And I told him not to play basketball today," Ji-won added with a careless shrug. "I mean, it's not like some game is more important than my plans."

Some game? The basketball match wasn’t just some game—it was one of the biggest events of the year, something their team had poured weeks of practice into. And she expected him to ditch it for her whims?

The sharp clang of your locker shutting ripped through the air, louder than you intended when you closed it. The hallway fell silent. Ji-won flinched, startled by the sound, then turned, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt her. But when her eyes met yours, the words died in her throat.

Your stare pinned her in place, unwavering. The entire hallway seemed to hold its breath, watching, waiting. Everyone knew better than to cross you—Choi trinity’s princess.

After a few long seconds, you broke eye contact, turned on your heel and walked away, each step of your Valentino sandals echoing with you.

As much as you wanted to speak, as much as the words burned at the back of your throat, you couldn’t. Because no matter how much Ji-won infuriated you, no matter how carelessly she spoke about him, this wasn’t your battle to fight.

You had no right to.

Beomgyu wasn’t yours to defend.

You body moved without thinking, pulling your phone out to call your driver. Medicine. Ingredients for a recovery soup. You listed everything quickly, your voice brisk to mask the slight shake in it.

Cooking had always been something you loved. There was a comfort in its simplicity—a recipe was just steps to follow, a methodical course that brought things to life. You liked how it could make someone happy, how it could bring warmth, even when words couldn’t.

When the ingredients arrived, you made your way to the university’s cooking room. It was meant for culinary students, but a single request to the club president had granted you access.

You tied your hair back, rolled up your sleeves and got to work. The familiar motions of chopping, stirring, and seasoning steadied you. The savoury aroma filled the room, spilling over into your senses. When the soup was done, you ladled it into a glass container, the warmth radiating through your hands. Perfect for the chilly wind outside.

It's no surprise that he got sick.

You packed it carefully, along with the medicine, into a small bag, and made your way toward his classroom. Sunghoon had told you where Beomgyu’s seat was, promising to keep it quiet. No one could know about this.

Not even Beomgyu himself.

The classroom was empty when you arrived, just as you’d hoped. Rows of desks stretched before you, soaked in the soft, dim light of late afternoon. Your steps faltered when you unexpectedly spotted him. You were about to turn around when you noticed he was asleep.

There he was, slumped over his desk, his head resting on folded arms. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, his face flushed with fever.

You swallowed hard, the sight tugging at something deep inside you. His eyelashes, dark and delicate, brushed against his cheeks, and for a moment, he looked so unguarded, so unlike the version of him you were used to seeing.

Slowly, you approached, placing the bag on the desk beside him with the utmost care, as if any sound might disturb him. But as much as you tried to stay quiet, the pounding of your heart seemed impossibly loud in the silence.

You stood there longer than you should have, your gaze lingering on the soft lines of his face. His fever-reddened cheeks, his slightly parted lips—he looked so vulnerable, so human in a way that made your chest ache.

Your breath caught as you turned to leave. It was hard to breathe in this room, hard to ignore the charm he had on you, even now. With one last glance at his sleeping form, you turned and walked out.

It felt like you were leaving your heart with him.

Beomgyu stirs awake, his body aching and cold, as if the chill had seeped into his skin. His head feels heavy, but a faint warmth near him pulls him in. He blinks sluggishly, there's—a container of soup resting on his desk. Soup?

Confused but drawn to it, he sits up slowly, the movement making his head spin. His fingers tremble slightly as he uncaps the container, and the smell that greets him is like a hug he didn’t know he needed. His stomach rumbles in response.

His gaze drops to the items beside it: medicine, utensils, carefully placed. Whoever left this thought of everything.

He picks up the spoon, dipping it into the golden broth. Bringing it to his lips, he tastes it. His eyes widen, a soft sound escaping him—surprised. It’s incredible.

It reminds him of his mother’s cooking, back when she still had time to make him meals. A strange fullness settles in his chest as he takes another spoonful, the warmth spreading, chasing away the numbness. He can’t stop eating—it’s too good.

“Babe?”

The sound of Ji-won’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks up as she walks in, holding two water bottles. Her eyes land on the container in his hands, her expression flickering with something unreadable.

“Oh,” she says casually, stepping closer.

Beomgyu smiles, his lips curving softly, his voice lighter than it’s been all day. “Did you make this?” he asks, hope threading through his tone. “It’s amazing. Seriously, it’s… it’s so good. Fucking delicious.”

Ji-won blinks, startled by his enthusiasm. He was grumpy and on edge all day because of his fever. Who left this? she wonders, panic flickering beneath her composed exterior, her gaze darts to the container again, then back to Beomgyu, who’s looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, yeah—yeah!” she blurts, forcing a bright smile. “Of course, I made it.”

Beomgyu tilts his head, surprised. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Anything for my boyfriend,” Ji-won replies, stepping closer as she places the water bottles on his desk. Her smile feels tight, but she pushes through. “That’s how much I love you.”

He chuckles softly, eating a spoonful again. “Well, I love it. Thank you for this. It made me feel so much better.”

That wasn’t the last time.

You told yourself it would be. Swore it, even. No more going out of your way for him. No more small, secret gestures. But every time you thought it was over, you found yourself pulled back in, like some invisible thread tying you to him.

It started with the soup. The day after you left it, you saw him. His face, pale and tired the day before, was flushed with warmth again, life returning to his features. Sunghoon mentioned, almost offhandedly, how Beomgyu wouldn’t stop bragging about the meal, how he raved about it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

And something about that stuck with you.

From then on, it became quite a bad habit. Throughout college, whenever you heard he was sick, you found yourself leaving small comforts behind. A bottle of tea on his desk, sweets slipped into his lockers during a lecture. And it didn’t stop there.

One time, Beomgyu forgot something important—a book, a charger, you don’t even remember now. You lent yours to Sunghoon, pretending you didn’t care, pretending it wasn’t just another way to help Beomgyu without him knowing.

Because you didn't want anything back.

When rumors spread about him sneaking around with his girlfriend, you stepped in before it escalated. His father will be angry about it, so you talked to that person who caught him, not for his sake but for your own, because the thought of his world unraveling in front of him was something you couldn’t bear to witness.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

It wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be.

It was for you.

The way your eyes scanned every room at social gatherings, always searching for his familiar face in the crowd. The way you couldn’t relax until you caught sight of him or the way your heart jumped whenever you spotted him, even if he didn’t notice you.

It was an addiction. One you couldn’t seem to break, no matter how many times you promised yourself you’d let go.

Were you in love with him for those four years? Or was it more than that?

"As you already know, this is Y/N, son," Beomgyu's mother announces, her perfectly manicured hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Beomgyu’s gaze meets yours. His hair is longer now, sitting at the edges of his sharp jawline, almost to his shoulders—much different to how you remember him last, on his graduation day. A whole year has passed since then. And you've graduated now too.

His suit—a dark blue so deep it could pass for black—fits him perfectly, exuding quiet sophistication. In contrast, your white Balmain dress feels almost too bright, too bold, clinging to you in a way that leaves no room for subtlety. You feel exposed under his probing eyes.

This morning, your mother had insisted—no, demanded—that you wear an elegant dress. You hadn’t understood why, but now the reason stands clear.

Beside you, your brother Soobin sits rigid, yet observing. He’s always been offensive, and tonight is no exception.

The two Choi family heads are deep in conversation, their voices low but purposeful, like they’re planning something big. It’s just the two families here tonight, seated at an impossibly long table in an equally expensive restaurant. The grandeur of the setting only amplifies it—the entire floor of this lavish place reserved just for this dinner, the emptiness around you making it feel more like a stage than a private meal.

“Your marriage will take place at the end of the year,” Beomgyu’s father declares. The words snap you out of your daze, and your head jerks toward him in shock. A soft gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“What?” Beomgyu’s voice is sharp. His jaw tightens when he leans forward, composure beginning to crack. “You made me end things with Ji-won last week, and now you’re telling me I’m engaged?” He practically spits the words, hands curl into fists on the table. “To someone I don’t even know?”

Ji-won. You flinch involuntarily, hands dropping to your lap. You start picking at your nailbeds. The air feels thick—too thick to breathe.

“Who is that?” Beomgyu’s father demands, his tone filled with disdain. “I told you not to mention that whore again.” His words are venomous, and you barely have time to register the insult before the sound of Beomgyu’s chair scraping against the polished floor reverberates through the room.

Everyone flinches as he rises, his movements full of suppressed fury. Your heart pounds. He stands there seething, glaring at his father, everyone staring, daring for him to do something before he turns on his heel.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold yourself together. The sting in your chest is undeniable. Disappointment wells up, as Beomgyu's actions fill the silence you can’t bear to break, your gaze fixed anywhere but the head table. Soobin’s hand suddenly moves into your line of sight, prying yours apart gently—stopping you from further tormenting your hands. His fingers curl around yours, tight.

Beomgyu's retreating footsteps echo, each one louder than the last, leaving a charged silence in their wake.

The next time you see him is on your wedding day.

You didn’t think it would happen like this. You truly didn’t. You’d clung to the faint hope that he’d at least show up before the ceremony—just once. You went to the fittings alone, picked out the rings by yourself, and stood in bakeries surrounded by couples, as you chose the cake flavour on your own. A conversation, even a brief one, might have eased the unease that had settled in your chest like a stone.

Maybe, when the time comes, you’ll work up the courage to ask him if he can at least try to be casual with you.

But every assurance came from his parents—empty promises that fell on ears too tired to process anymore. Your parents clung to those words, desperate for this union. A necessary marriage, they said. A solution.

None of it reassured you. How could it, when the groom himself was nowhere to be found? You never saw him. It was as though you were preparing to marry a ghost.

When he finally sees you, it’s as you walk down the aisle, dressed in a gown that feels heavier than it should. His gaze lands on you, a one-second glance that’s gone before you can even register it. He doesn’t look at you again. Not during the vows, not during the ceremony, not even as you both stand side by side, bound by words you barely believe.

And now, instead of his arms around you, you find yourself sobbing into your brother’s shoulder. Soobin holds you tightly. The irony was funny—it was Soobin, the whole reason to why Beomgyu was introduced to you all those years ago.

Beomgyu, the boy who returned you safely to your brother that night, the one who left a permanent mark so indelible it stayed for years. The same mark that now hurts you, refusing to fade no matter how many years passed.

It's cruel.

Happy 26th birthday baby girl! xoxo

You smiled faintly at Ryujin's text as you stirred the pancake batter you'd made from scratch. The comforting smell of vanilla and butter filled the kitchen—your kitchen.

As much as you endured your parents' endless whims, you had to admit, you loved the simplicity of domesticity. There was something grounding about it. It made you feel useful, capable—like you could create something perfect, even in a life that often felt far from it.

"Y/N." The sound of your name broke your focus. You looked up, catching Beomgyu standing at the doorway. He was already dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, his fingers fiddling with the knot of his tie. "I'm heading to the office early today,"

"Again?" Your voice was softer than you'd intended. "At least have breakfast before you go. I can finish this quickly."

"Thank you," he dismissed, gaze shifting away. Avoiding yours. Reminding you the line that's stretched between you cannot ever cross. "But I'll eat at the office. I don't want to be late. I might be back for dinner later. Maybe."

He adjusted his tie one last time, nodded in your direction, and walked out without another word. The soft click of it closing behind him felt louder than it should have.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. It was fine. You were used to this. Not because he left early again, but because it was an important day for you. A day you’d spend, once again, without him. Another day spent in the quiet of this too-big penthouse, with no one but yourself for company.

Two years into your marriage, you had learned to temper your expectations. Love was never meant to be part of the deal, and you had told yourself, over and over, that you didn’t need it. But no amount of reason could stop your heart from aching, from yearning—for Beomgyu to see you. Not as a piece of some agreement or a cog in the machinery of alliances, but as a person. As you.

Maybe even as a friend.

He wasn’t unkind. Not once had he raised his voice or shown you disrespect. But in some ways, his indifference stung more. He was here, yet not here—like a shadow that lived in the same space but never touched yours.

And sometimes, you wished that he would be mean to you, he would shout at you or he would hurt you—at least then, there would be something to feel. You hate that you gave him power over yourself.

You told your mother about it—you never saw your parents love each other, not in a way that felt real, not in front of you. She offered one thing that made sense to you.

Someday, you'll have children, and your child will give you a new purpose. You wanted to push back, to argue, but the next words stopped you cold—“Because if being an invisible wife isn’t enough, your children will see you.” You didn’t want to bring a child into this—into a life painted in shades of grey. An innocent child shouldn’t have to bear it. A child born not out of love? The thought made your chest tighten.

And yet, in the darkest, most desperate corners of your mind, another voice whispered something wicked. A voice that insisted maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

You sighed, finding the courage to pick up the spoon to eat, imagining a child sitting across from you, soft brown eyes mirroring his.

Alone, but somehow, it felt a little less lonely.

"Boss, there's a party later. It's Mr. Yoon's farewell dinner."

Beomgyu glanced up from his laptop, his secretary’s voice pulling him from the post-meeting haze. Mr. Yoon—one of his father’s most loyal employees, someone who had been with the company for years. Letting this occasion go unnoticed wasn’t an option, not for someone like him.

Later that evening, Beomgyu arrived at the resto-bar, the space already alive with the hum of laughter and conversation. As soon as he stepped inside, heads turned. Employees greeted him with a mix of respect and warmth, but his smile, though polite, didn’t reach his eyes. It was business, like always. When someone announced that the night’s tab was on him, a wave of cheers erupted, but Beomgyu barely reacted. He offered only a nod before grabbing a beer and retreating into his thoughts. Are you asleep—

"Omg, Beomgyu?"

The familiar voice jolted him. He turned his head sharply, and there she was—Ji-won. Her platinum blonde bleached hair gleamed under the bar lights, her lips curved into a playful smile. She looked almost the same, except more polished. She hadn’t changed much, down to the way her manicured fingers grazed her cheek as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

"It's you! I haven't seen you in what, two years? Almost?" she said, her tone bright, her lashes fluttering in the way she knew he once liked.

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied curtly, his voice neutral. "Nice to see you here." He grabbed his beer and took a long sip. Her laugh rang out, light and infectious, the same laugh that used to feel like heaven to him. She knew exactly what to do, exactly how to pull him in.

Beomgyu raised his beer and took a long sip again, letting the alcohol burn its way down. He probably should go now. Her friends surrounded them, teasing and nudging, playful comments flying back and forth. He stayed composed, answering in clipped sentences, trying to keep his distance. He just needs to find the time to excuse himself.

But at some point, her friends drifted away, leaving her behind—drunk and alone, leaning heavily against the table. Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could have left her there. Maybe he should have. But instead, he found himself walking over.

"Come on," he said quietly, offering his hand. "Let me take you home."

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy but soft, and smiled. It was a smile that used to mean so much more.

Her warm hands envelop his.

The drive to her address was heavy with silence. Ji-won kept glancing at him, her eyes longing, but Beomgyu stayed focused on the road. Her address glowed faintly from his phone’s GPS. When they arrived, he got out, rounding the car to help her. She wobbled slightly, her drunken state evident, but he steadied her without a word and walked her to her door. She didn’t let go of his arm.

As they reached her doorstep, she turned to him, her voice trembling, raw. “Did you forget all about me already?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “Because… because I haven’t. It's still you, Beomgyu. I still love you.”

The words stopped him cold. He looked at her then—really looked at her. The faint blush on her cheeks, the way her hair fell messily over her shoulders, and that familiar scent of her perfume. Memories flashed. The way she’d cried when he said goodbye. The way she’d begged him to stay, her arms wrapped around him like she could keep him forever. He remembered the way he had talked to his father—looking for any chance. Only to be met with a no. A hard, unrelenting no.

It was too much. She's too familiar. He's too close.

And then, she leaned in.

Her lips touched his, soft just like they used to be. He shouldn’t. But when the small of her hands gripped the lapels of his suit, pulling him closer, he kissed her back.

It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, messy, like trying to reclaim something lost. Her body pressed against his, and the sound of her soft moan made him grip her arms. He presses her against the door. Her hands tried to open the front door for them to go inside. It felt like a reunion, a fleeting taste of something they weren’t supposed to have.

But then she whispered against his lips, “Do you think we’d be married now if your father hadn’t stopped us?”

The word married—hit him, made him open his eyes, freezing in place.

He pulled away, his breath ragged, staring at her. His lips still burned with the sin of hers. What the hell was he doing?

Ji-won stared at him, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “Beomgyu—” she started, but he shook his head, taking another step back.

“I… I can’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried and uneven. She reached for him—called his name, voice crying, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

All he could see was your face.

At home. Waiting for him. Leaning to the countertop with your stupidly sweet unnecessary smile. The crinkle by your eyes. It flashes over and over, drowning out everyone, and everything else.

Beomgyu gets into his car, his hands trembling as he fumbles with the keys. The engine roars to life with an urgency that matches his racing thoughts.

His grip tightens on the wheel as the image of Ji-won flashes in his mind. Her words. Her touch. The kiss. His stomach churns. What the hell was he thinking? Did he still love her?

The elevator ride to your floor feels agonizingly slow, every second stretching endlessly. He can barely hear his own breathing over the pounding of his heart. When the doors open, he steps out hesitantly, his footsteps dragging as he approaches the front door.

He pauses in the entryway, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

He sees you.

You're curled up on the couch, your head resting on a pillow, a blanket draped loosely over your legs. His eyes dart on the kitchen, there sits a plate of untouched food, now cold. Dinner.

His chest tightens. You waited for him. Despite everything—despite the fact that he’d made no promises, despite the countless nights like this—you still waited.

How? he thinks, his mind reeling. How could you wait for him, when he hadn't given you anything to hold on to?

He glances at the clock on the wall. 6 a.m. His jaw clenches. He hadn’t even noticed the time had passed. He’d been so caught up at the party, so lost in the haze of old memories and poor decisions, that he’d forgotten about you entirely.

He steps closer, his gaze softening as it falls on your face. You look peaceful, your breathing even, your features illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the window. There’s something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.

The urge to reach out, to touch you, is overwhelming. But as his eyes fall to your lips, a shameful reminder washes over him—he knows that his lips had been with someone else only minutes ago.

It would be cruel to let it stain the divine of your skin.

“Come here,” Beomgyu spoke, which made you look at him through the mirror for a couple of seconds before seeing him beckon you over. You walked towards him, about to sit on the edge of the bed, when he grabbed your arm and sat you between his thighs.

“What is it?” you asked softly. You felt his arms tighten slightly around you, his fingers brushing the fabric of your robe. He hadn’t spoken to you all day, hadn’t so much as looked at you too. You just got out of your shower when you saw him sitting in your bed. And now, here he was—unexpected, yet demanding this closeness.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his breath, warm against your skin. His hand slid slowly from your waist to your side, tracing the outline of your frame. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. You knew what this was. What he wanted. What he was about to do.

This was the pattern you had grown to recognise. The times he came to you like this, seeking the comfort your body could offer. The way his touch made you feel seen. And when morning came, like always, he would retreat—pulling away, storms behind his eye, leaving you to wrestle with the hollow ache in your chest.

Nights like this made it hurt more.

“Nothing.” He says. You felt his hand caress your thigh as he kisses your shoulder. He turns you around. He licked his lips before letting it explore the inside of your mouth, making you moan. He grunts in your mouth as his hand snakes to the inside of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh.

He pushes his clothed crotch to your heat. He removes the top part of your robe, his lips easily finding themselves on your nipple, kissing around it before hungrily latching his mouth on it. The feeling of his wet tongue circling your bead and the growing tent on his pants rubbing on you made your body heat up.

You should push him away.

But then he looked up into your eyes, almost begging. It's soft, glassy which makes you wonder if you're ever going to see it other than like this. At that moment, the truth hit you: this was all he could offer. This collision, the press of his skin against yours—this was all you’d ever have of him. The pain intensified. He goes up and captures your lips again.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmured against your kisses. Fine, you thought. Just this once more—one last time. You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back gently, turned around and got on all fours. You arched your back, pressing your head onto the mattress. Your ass was in the air, and you were exposed to him. Hearing him move behind you made you close your eyes.

Beomgyu was shocked. For you to offer yourself like this, so quickly, caught him off guard. He blinked, taking in the curve of your back, and the way you presented yourself.

You felt his tip rub against your folds and swollen clit, making you whine. He pulled your legs farther apart before plunging two fingers to make sure you were ready to take him.

You moaned, feeling his long fingers massage your walls. Your wetness trickled on his hand, and it only made him harder. He sucked his fingers when he pulled out. You felt every inch, his cock reaching places that made your body arch instinctively beneath.

It burns, and it burns so good.

“You're always fucking tight.” He kneads your ass cheeks, thrusting slowly at first before gradually increasing in speed. You felt so full as he pushed into you. He reached for your clit as you buried your face into the pillow. “Y/N…” His hard cock reaches the deepest parts of you. Beomgyu flipped your body without warning, and your arm immediately flew to your face. You turned your face away from him, not knowing that he’s been observing you.

You’ve been hiding your face the whole time as much as you can. Seeing his eyes felt unbearable. Because meeting his eyes will make you want him. To want him more than this. Something he will never be able to give.

“Y/N…I want to see your face.” He grabbed your hand to move them away, and Beomgyu felt a pang in his chest when he saw your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You were sobbing underneath him.

“Please…” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Just make me cum. Okay?”

You were breaking your own heart, chasing his own. And as he stared down at you, his indifference, the wall he’d built so carefully around himself, was killing you.

“What's wrong?” He urges you. His thrusts are unceasing as tears continue to fall down from your eyes. “Y/N…” Your orgasm hits you hard. Your toes curled as you cried out his name. Your walls were squeezing his cock. He grunts at how tight you feel around him. His hands were gripping the back of your knees as his hips stuttered, about to reach his own climax.

Even as he continued to move, his pace sloppy and desperate, your quiet sobs filled the room, uncontrollable. Beomgyu stilled above you, his heart twisting painfully at the sound. He hated himself—hated the way he’d reduced you to this.

You feel his hot cum inside you. When he finally pulled away, he collapsed beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. His unsure eyes drifted to you, curled up in the blankets, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle your cries. You moved your whole body under the sheets, clung to the fabric like it was the only thing holding you together.

Hiding. Hiding from the one who was supposed to be your other half.

The sight of you like this made his throat tighten, his chest heavy with something he couldn’t put into words. He had never wanted to hurt you, yet here you were.

That night, Beomgyu lay unable to find sleep, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of your bedroom walls. You were an angel, one he had broken with his own hands.

You wake up, heart racing.

Your hands instinctively move to your face. It’s that dream again. The same one that’s haunted you night after night. The memory of him. That night. The last time Beomgyu touched you. It’s been just over four weeks.

Even in sleep, he doesn’t let you go.

You blinked, your surroundings blurry in the faint light of your room. How did you get here? You were sure you’d fallen asleep on the couch. The question barely settles before an uneasy twist in your stomach pulls you back to the present. A wave of nausea rushes through you, sharp and sudden.

Your hand flies to your mouth as you scramble out of bed, your legs barely keeping up as you dart to the bathroom. You made it just in time, collapsing onto your knees as your body seized itself forward. The bitter taste burned your throat, each heave leaving you weaker than the last. You sat there, gripping the cool edge of the toilet, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.

You pushed yourself up, legs still shaky, and made your way to the sink. The cold water was a welcome distraction, splashing against your skin and dripping down in rivulets. You scrubbed at your face harder than you needed to, as if the water could somehow rinse away more than just the sweat clinging to your skin.

Grabbing a towel, you patted your face dry, letting your gaze drift to the untouched box of tampons sitting quietly on the shelf.

“Y/N?” The knock on your door startled you. Tossing the towel aside, you stepped out of the small bathroom and crossed the room to open the door.

There he stood, his dark eyes locking onto yours the second the door opened. He scanned your face. “Are… are you okay? I heard a loud thump.” His voice was uneven, like he wasn’t sure he should even be asking.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. You moved to step past him, but the moment you did, he took a cautious step back, his body shifting as though he couldn’t bear to be too close.

It stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” he replies, eyes darting to the vases on the table. “You got flowers?” Beomgyu’s stares on your face. The way your face softens at the mention of them—he notices it instantly. He doesn’t like it—not one bit.

“They were given to me.”

“Two dozen?” he presses, “By who?”

“Soobin,”

“And?” he asks again, though there’s no need. He already knows who.

“Yeonjun,” The name lands heavy between you.

His jaw tightens. “He dropped them off here yesterday? Why did—” His words tumble out quickly, too quickly.

Because it's your birthday.

“He was with Soobin, Beomgyu,” you interrupt, brushing past him toward the refrigerator. Your steps feel heavier than they should Blinking, you try to push the swelling emotions back down. Normally, you’d brush this off. So why does it feel so different today? Why are you getting emotional? You pull out a bottle of water, taking a long sip to steady yourself before asking, “What time did you come home yesterday?”

Silence.

You drink slowly, giving him time to answer, but he doesn’t. The room feels stifling in the stillness, the hum of the refrigerator suddenly too loud. You set your empty glass on the table with a dull thud, your eyes drifting back to him.

He’s standing there in his usual morning look—white shirt hanging loose, black pyjama pants slightly wrinkled. His hair is a mess from sleep, and his skin looks paler in the soft light. There’s something about how vulnerable he looks in the mornings that always catches you off guard.

He's painfully beautiful.

“Around the morning,” He's hesitant. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t meet your eyes, and the tightness in your chest only grows. There’s an ugly nagging feeling at the edges of your thoughts.

“I’ll go get ready for work,” he says, shutting the conversation before it even has a chance to go further.

It doesn't surprise you anymore.

You step into the opulent glow of the five-star Skyline Restaurant, the clink of fine china and hushed laughter swirled around. Fingers gripping your white Dior purse, you scan the room, heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Your eyes sweep over faces until a familiar one stops you in your tracks.

“Pretty girl.” Ryujin’s voice called out, smooth and warm. She raises a hand in a poised wave, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. You mirror her expression, weaving your way toward her. Heads turn as you pass, your perfume—delicate yet potent.

“How are you?” she asks as you reach her, gaze soft yet probing.

“I’m okay,” you reply, sinking into the plush couch across from her. The tension in your shoulders eases, if only slightly. “Thank you for the gifts, by the way. And I’m sorry I couldn’t meet up with you yesterday, like you wanted.”

“I understand.” Her reply is casual, but her eyes betray her. They flicker to the dark crescents under yours, the ones you’ve tried to conceal but can never quite hide. “It’s always him, isn’t it? At the end of the day.”

Your fingers wrap around the porcelain cup in front of you. The tea is hot against your palms, and you take a tentative sip. It tasted faintly of jasmine, soothing and bittersweet. The silence between you stretches.

“Y/N.” Her voice pulls you back, insistent. Your eyes meet hers, and for a moment, you can’t look away. “He’s the reason you’re like this. It doesn't have to be, but he made it this way. You see that, don’t you?”

"I know."

Ryujin’s eyes flickered with hesitation, the way someone falters before delivering a blow. Eyes darting between you and the untouched tea in front of her. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she began, her voice soft but unsteady. “But I… I heard something.”

Her words made your heart clench. “What is it?”

“I mean, I’m not completely sure, but it came from someone I trust and—”

“Ryujin,” you snapped, sharper than you intended. Your chest tightened as dread crept in. “Tell me.”

She hesitated, her lips parting slightly before closing again. “Did he spend the night with you yesterday?”

You felt the world shift under your feet. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Your silence was enough.

He wasn't.

Ryujin’s expression softened, pity creeping into her features, “I—there was a party,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “One with Beomgyu and Ji-won.”

The name made your stomach drop.

“They were together all night,” she said, her words rushed, like she wanted to get them out before she lost her nerve. “And someone… someone saw them. Beomgyu practically carried her into his car. They left together.”

Your vision blurred for a second, the edges of the room fading as her words registered. You forced yourself to blink, to breathe. “Oh,” you whispered.

Ryujin stood abruptly and moved to sit beside you, taking your trembling hands into hers. “Confront him,” she urged. “Find out if it’s true.” She squeezed your hands. “I’m so tired of seeing you like this. Always giving and giving while he takes whatever’s left of you.” Her voice cracked. “Loving him silently. Loving him so hard isn’t going to make him love you back.”

You didn’t even realise you were crying until the tears started dripping onto your lap, soaking into the fabric of your dress. Ryujin hated it. She remembered you in college—how you laughed so freely, how your eyes sparkled. But now, that light she admired so much was dimming, as if someone had reached inside you and quietly stolen it piece by piece.

Ryujin swallowed hard, blinking back her own tears as she watched yours fall. How hurt must you be to cry like this—without a sound, without even a gasp? Just the quiet, stream of tears slipping down your face, carving paths of pain?

She hated seeing you like this—hated how one person had managed to turn the full-bloomed, radiant version of you into a shadow of yourself, a bud closed off to the world. That someone can easily break you, when you spent years building yourself.

You're waiting.

It's 10 p.m. The hours have crawled by since you drove back here. You look around. This space, where you are supposed to build a family, where love is supposed to be—is nothing but a cold place to you.

You're sitting on the couch, the same couch you’ve spent countless nights on, staring at the clock, waiting for him. Your hands rest in your lap, trembling slightly, though you don’t realise it. With nothing but fear, the fear that you’re losing something you never truly had.

Your phone buzzes again. Two names alternate, calling over and over. You don’t pick up. You don’t even look. You can’t.

Because the truth is, you don’t know if you’ll make it through the night without hearing from him. Your husband.

The elevator dings softly, and Beomgyu steps into the penthouse. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his hair tousled and far from his usual pristine self. He looks tired, distracted—like he’s been anywhere but here. His eyes met yours.

"Why are you still awake—"

"Do you think I don’t know what you’ve done?" Your voice cuts, trembling. You see his eyes widen, just a fraction. It’s so small you almost missed it.

"Ji-won." Her name burns as it leaves your mouth, bitter. His eyes flicker toward you for just a second—a split second, just long enough to know that he heard—but there is nothing in them. Nothing.

He moves with calculated slowness, setting his bag down on the table, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Time ticked. He doesn’t even try to explain. Doesn’t even look at you long enough for you to find a trace of the man you once thought you knew. His thumb brushes over his ring like it’s something he’s forgotten. A ring that should have meant forever.

"I can handle it all, Choi Beomgyu," you say, your voice firmer now, though your hands tremble at your sides. "I’ve handled it all, haven’t I? I didn’t say anything when you kept talking about her—days after we got married—on our honeymoon, or right in front of your family."

His back stiffens, his hands gripping the edge of the countertop. Beomgyu swallows the lump in his throat.

"Not once in these two years did I tell you how small you made me feel, how you made me feel like I didn’t belong in your world. Like I was a stranger in my own marriage." Your voice cracks, but you keep going. "I stayed silent, And after all of that—after everything—I stayed. I stayed because I thought… maybe it was enough. And yet, you still chose to cheat on me?"

You’re shaking now, and your voice rises despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "If you had just come to me and said you didn’t want this anymore, I would’ve let you go. I would’ve walked away, Beomgyu. Because everything I’ve done—every single thing—has been for you. For this marriage. For our families."

His head finally lifts, and his eyes meet yours. You hate how you feel small under his gaze, how his silence feels like a condemnation of your own vulnerability.

Beomgyu swallows hard, his jaw tightening. "That’s not what happened, Y/N."

"That you didn’t go home with her? That you weren’t with her on my fucking birthday?"

Your words hit him like a punch, and his eyes widen, the crack in his composure visible now.

"What?"

"You heard me." The burden festering inside you for so long is finally out. It feels small, inadequate even, but you don’t care anymore. You can’t. You can feel his eyes on you, and it's your turn to refuse to meet them. You’re done searching his face for answers that will never come.

You rise from the couch, your movements sharp, fueled by hurt and exhaustion. Steps are quick, your breaths are shallow as you reach your room. The door slams shut behind you with a force that echoes behind. Your hands tremble as you swipe on your phone. Tears blur your vision, falling onto the screen as you scroll, fingers fumbling to find the number you need.

You don’t think. You can’t. The tears are hot and relentless, burning tracks down your cheeks as you press the call button.

The line clicks immediately.

Outside your room, Beomgyu stands in the hallway, pacing back and forth. His footsteps are uneven, restless. The truth is, he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Every time he tries to form the words in his head, they fall apart before they can leave his lips.

How can he explain it? How can he make you understand? He never thought it would come to this—never thought he’d have to say it out loud. He’d always believed he could keep it buried, that you’d never find out.

He presses a hand to his forehead, exhaling sharply. He hasn’t spoken to Ji-won since that night. Not once. She tried to reach out—texts, calls, even showing up unannounced—but he shut it all down. He shut her out.

The irony isn’t lost on him. He, who once was hopelessly in love with her had turned his back on her entirely. What surprised him the most was how easy it was. All it took was thinking of you.

And the sight of your tears now terrifies him.

Beomgyu has always been a confident man. He was raised to be one. It’s who he was taught to be—the man who could command a room, close deals, deliver speeches without a stutter. But none of that matters now. Standing here, in front of your door, he feels small. Helpless. Negotiating with the world is one thing; facing the pain in your eyes is another.

He sighs, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. His chest feels tight, his mind racing. He should knock. He knows he should try—should say something, anything.

He lifts his hand to knock, but the door swings open before he can. Your eyes meet his—red, swollen, glassy with unshed tears—and it feels like the air is knocked out of him. Beomgyu's chest tightens painfully, and then his gaze falls to the suitcase in your hand,"Where are you going?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you step past him, avoiding even the smallest brush against him. The sound of your suitcase wheels echoes in the hall. His heart stutters, his feet frozen in place.

"Y/N," he pleads, reaching for your wrist. His eyes flicker down to your hand, and the absence of your ring feels like a blow he wasn’t ready for.

"Beomgyu," you say quietly, pulling your hand away from his grasp."I’m going to stay with my brother for a while."

You don’t wait for his response. You can’t. If you stop now—if you meet his eyes again—you might change your mind. You walk toward the elevator, heart pounding, and breaking, but you don’t look back. When he doesn’t follow, when he doesn’t try to stop you, it cracks a little more.

The elevator doors begin to close, you think that’s it.This is the end. But then, his hand darts between the doors, forcing them open. You glance up in surprise. You've never seen him this unsure, or nervous before.

"At least let me see you out," he says softly. "Please,"

He stares at you. You nod, stepping aside to make room for him. Neither of you speaks, and the distance between you feels impossibly wide, even in the small space.

"Call me if you ever want to talk again," he finally breaks the silence, eyes fixed on the ground, "I’ll wait for you," You don’t respond, your throat tightening as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself not to cry.

Perhaps, it is his turn to wait for you.

It’s the longest elevator ride of your life.

In the parking lot, your brother is the first thing you see—tall and imposing, his glasses doing nothing to soften the sharp frown etched across his face. His eyes sweep over you, landing on the suitcase in your hand before darting behind you. The worry darkens instantly into anger when he sees Beomgyu trailing a few steps behind.

"You fucker," Soobin spits, brushing past you to square off with him. His voice is cold and furious. Beomgyu doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, even as your brother towers over him.

"I gave you the benefit of the doubt," Soobin growls. "I thought, at the very least, you’d treat my sister with the respect she deserves. But you—"

"Soobin, stop!" You step forward, your hands desperately reaching out to hold your brother’s fists clenched at his sides. "Please, let’s just go."

He hesitates, jaw tightening as he swallows his anger. With a final, scathing glare at Beomgyu, Soobin turns away. He reached for your suitcase, grabbed it without a word and shoved it into the trunk of his car. Then he opens the passenger door, his expression softening ever so slightly as he looks at you. "Get inside."

You slide into the car, your hands trembling as you clutch them in your lap. Soobin slams the door shut behind you, the sound shouting in the empty parking lot like a final warning.

Beomgyu stands there eyes never leaving your form, unmoving, as the car engine roars to life. His chest feels like it’s caving in as he watches Soobin pull away, the tyres screeching against the pavement. It’s almost insulting, the way the sound seems to echo his own turmoil.

His eyes follow the car until it vanishes from sight, leaving nothing but silence and the crushing weight of knowing you’re gone.

Beomgyu steps back, dragging his feet to somehow delay the reality settling in around him. Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, the faintest flicker of hope burning in his chest. Maybe you’d be there. Maybe you’d come back.

Maybe this was just a nightmare he hadn’t woken up from yet.

But you didn't.

The elevator doors slide open, and he strides inside, his mind blank and racing all at once. He walks, heading straight to the kitchen for water—something to soothe the dryness in his throat, the tightness in his chest. But as he passes the living room, his eyes catch on the portrait hanging above the mantel.

The wedding photo.

It hangs on there, just as it always has, but tonight it feels unbearable. His eyes lock on your face, and he falters. How could he have missed it? The slight redness in your eyes, the way your smile looks stretched too thin. How can a bride look so unhappy? How did it take him this long to realise how beautiful you looked that day—despite everything? How could he have failed to tell you?

How could he have been so blind?

He wasn’t the only one hurting that day. You had to stand there, dressed in white, while he grieved for someone else. On the day that was supposed to be yours, his mind had been somewhere else, tangled in memories of a woman who wasn’t you. And he never talked to you about it—not once. He never told you what you needed to hear. That it wasn’t your fault. That none of it was your fault.

He blinks hard, his vision blurring. The cracks were always there, weren’t they? Small at first, almost invisible, but they spread, creeping through everything until you were barely holding on. And he didn’t see it. He didn’t see you. Now, he stares at the picture like it might give him some kind of answer, some kind of clue to undo it all, but all it does is make the ache in his chest grow sharper.

He wished he had known. He wished he had known that the hurt consuming him would fade. He wished he could’ve said it all sooner, when the chance was still there. To tell you the truth. That he indeed had kissed her. That it was a mistake. He should have fallen to his knees and begged you to forgive him.

Would it have made a difference? Could one moment of honesty, one action, one choice have been enough to hold you here, to make you stay?

"Fuck," His voice was unsteady, tears stinging his eyes—tears he didn’t even know he was capable of. He can’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe he never has. He never cried. His hand moves on instinct, reaching for the cabinet, but instead of a glass, his fingers close around the neck of the whisky bottle. Water won’t cut it tonight. He twists the cap off, letting it fall to the counter with a hollow clink, and takes a long, burning sip.

It doesn't dull anything. Not yet. So he drinks.

It’s only been an hour—barely even that—since you left, but it feels like his world is already collapsing.

You wake up groggy, your head spinning and eyes feeling heavy. You can’t remember when you fell asleep or even how. You shift on the bed—Soobin must have carried you here.

Right. You’re at his place now.

"Y/N, you awake?" your brother’s voice carries down the hall, accompanied by the mouthwatering smell of bacon. Your stomach growls unexpectedly. You drag yourself out of bed, splash water on your face in the bathroom, and head out of the room.

“Good morning,” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen. The sight of Soobin setting down a plate of pancakes and Yeonjun grinning at you makes your chest feel warm.

Yeonjun stands and strides over, wrapping you in a tight hug. His hugs are always the warmest. He’s your brother’s best friend, someone who’s been in your life long enough to feel like family. He's known you since you were children, and you see him as your own brother.

He rests his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to the table as the corners of your lips tug into a soft smile you can’t seem to hold back. You sit down, and Soobin begins piling food onto your plate.

"Do you have any plans today?" Soobin asks casually, his focus still on divvying up breakfast.

“None, really,” you reply, your attention entirely on the bacon in front of you. Your stomach practically growls in anticipation, and without waiting, you dig in.

A little too eagerly, apparently. You choke, coughing as you try to swallow too quickly.

Yeonjun’s reaction is immediate—he’s already filling a glass of water before you even finish coughing. He places it in front of you and grabs a few napkins, sliding them your way with a concerned look. “Slow down, Y/N,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.

“Sorry,” you croak out, taking a sip of water to soothe your throat.

Last night, when you arrived, your brother didn’t ask for explanations. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he pulled you into a hug, letting you collapse into him, tears soaking into his shirt as you broke down.

You heard him curse, his voice tight with restrained anger, but he didn’t say anything else. He just let you cry. His hands rested firmly on your back.

He didn’t ask because he knew. He knew that words wouldn’t help—not now. And maybe, he was afraid that asking would only deepen the pain already spreading through you.

It’s the reason Soobin hasn’t married yet. He’s had plenty of offers—proposals that would benefit his business, alliances that would make sense on paper. But none of it feels right. Not when he knows what you’ve endured.

He can't forget the look on your face on the day of your wedding. He keeps his distance, telling himself he has no right to fall in love or build a life of his own. How could he, knowing the choice was never yours? How could he allow himself to stand in the light of his own happiness, knowing it would only cast a longer shadow over you?

It would be unfair. Unfair to chase his own happiness.

He’s afraid. Afraid that loving someone, finding joy in his own marriage, would feel like betrayal or it would mean abandoning you to face your burdens alone.

"How are you?" Yeonjun asks, his gaze lingering on the dark circles under your eyes. His frown deepens.

"I'm… better," you say, the words catching in your throat as you force them out. It’s a lie, and you both know it. You’re far from better. Not when the image of Beomgyu standing in the parking lot, staring at you as you left, keeps haunting you. He looked… You shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You can’t go there—not now.

“There’s a party this weekend,” Yeonjun says, trying to sound lighthearted as he takes a bite of his food. “Some kind of school reunion. I think it’s three batches combined. You should come with us.”

"Yeah," you mumble, poking at your plate. "Ryu-jin’s been bugging me about it. Since Jakey won’t be able to make it—he’s overseas right now."

But the words falter on your lips as the thought you’ve been trying to avoid pushes its way forward. You don’t have to say it out loud; it’s already there, written on your face. Beomgyu. He might be there.

"He won’t be," Soobin says firmly, it's almost as if he read your thoughts. "I made sure of it. And if, by some chance, he shows up, I’ll stick by your side all night."

Your eyes flick over to Yeonjun, and he gives you a slight nod, his expression softening. "I’ll be there too,"

The days pass in a haze, each one blurring into the next, but this time, you’re not navigating them by yourself. You lean on your brother more than you ever thought you would, and somehow, he never seems to mind.

Soobin, who skips work without a second thought, pulling you out of the house when he sees you sinking too deep into yourself. He drags you to museums, to quiet cafés, or even just for drives with no destination.

And then there’s Yeonjun. No matter how busy his life is, he keeps... showing up. When Soobin’s tied up, Yeonjun is there, knocking on your door with his humor pulling reluctant smiles from you when you least expect it.

It’s not perfect—it’s still hard. Some days, you still lock your doors and don't come out no matter how many times they knock. There are days you don't even utter a single word. But they’re there, both of them, holding you up when you can’t do it yourself.

For the first time in two years, you don't feel alone.

“He’s not on the list, don’t worry,” Ryu-jin’s voice crackles through the speaker of your phone. You grip the steering wheel a little tighter, your eyes fixed on the road ahead. Soobin’s car leads in the lane in front of you.

"It's fine," you say, "It's not like I'm going for him, anyway."

"Okay. See you there," Ryu-jin replies before hanging up. You swallow hard, trying to push down yet another nausea rising in your throat. You focus on the road.

When you arrive, you walk alongside Soobin toward the entrance. Heads turn, whispers ripple through the crowd. The two of you—the university’s so-called power siblings—command attention without even trying. People smile, greet you, and their eyes linger on your Dior dress, but you barely notice.

“You’re finally here,” Yeonjun’s familiar voice calls out as he approaches, his warm smile cutting the tension in your chest. He grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer. “I’m glad you came,” he says softly, his eyes holding yours before focusing on Soobin.

"You're early." Soobin exchanges a quick greeting with him, heading off briefly to grab drinks for the three of you.

“Y/N!” Ryu-jin throws her arms around you, grinning as her eyes sweep over you. “Why do you always have to look this good?” she teases playfully. You laugh softly, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise heavy evening. The four of you settle at a table, waiting for the event to begin.

The night feels… okay. Not great, not life-changing, but okay. A simple glimpse of normalcy.

The week leading up to tonight lingers in your mind. Beomgyu’s messages. The flowers left at Soobin’s door. The missed calls that filled your screen, each one a reminder of everything you’ve been trying to forget.

You ignored them all. You had to.

Even now, standing here among friends, the memories creep in when you least expect them. Every time you close your eyes, you see them. You see her. And you see him.

And all the things that could’ve happened between them.

No matter how hard you try, the ghosts cling to you, refusing to let go.

You scrub your hands under the cold stream of water, the scent of soap mingling with the sterile air. The sound of the bathroom door creaking open doesn’t register at first—not until you hear her voice.

“Hi, Y/N.” You freeze, your stomach twisting before you even turn around. Through the mirror, her face appears behind you—Ji-won. The last person you wanted to see.

“What do you want?” Your reflection betrays the tension in your jaw. Your stomach twists violently. You don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.

“Look, I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About what happened between you and Beomgyu.” Her words falter, her tone weak, as if that soft voice could somehow soften the blow. “I—I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she continues, “It just… it just happened. We didn’t mean it.”

You know what hurts more than being cheated on? It’s the sickening realization that the person they chose is better than you in every way. Prettier. Maybe even smarter. More… everything.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to speak, “Stop, Ji-won.” You glance at her through the mirror, your chest tightening painfully. “I get it. I can see why.”

She looks startled, her brows drawing together. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. I know you know we had… unfinished business—”

“Unfinished business?” You spin around to face her, and the words tumble out before you can stop them, “With someone else’s husband?”

“That’s why I came to apologize,”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head as your chest burns with a mixture of anger and pain. “Well, I don’t need it. Did you expect me to hug you?” You let out another laugh, this one harsher.

“Congratulations, I guess.” You step closer, each word laced with venom. “But don’t you ever come near me again. If you do, I’ll press charges. It will be really ugly. Do you understand?”

Ji-won nods stiffly, her expression crumbling under the weight of your stare. Without another glance, you turn on your heel and walk out of the bathroom, your steps hurried, the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

By the time you’re in the hallway, your breath is coming in short gasps. Your chest feels tight, constricted, like you’re drowning in your own emotions. You press a hand to your chest, forcing yourself to keep walking, but your vision blurs with unshed tears.

You can’t breathe.

The alcohol should’ve been enough. You thought it would drown everything out—the ache, the gnawing in your gut, the weight pressing down on your shoulders. But the pain is relentless, carving its way through you, burning and cold.

It starts in your chest, spreading like wildfire, suffocating your lungs, and crawling up your spine until it feels like you’re being pulled apart from the inside. It’s sharp, chaotic, like a bullet ricocheting through your body, tearing apart every fragile piece it touches.

You hear Ryu-jin’s voice calling your name, faint and distant, but you don’t turn around. You can’t. No. The crowd around you feels stifling, every laugh and every cheer scraping against your raw nerves. You’re barely holding it together, and you know that if you stay even a second longer, you’ll shatter in front of everyone.

You just need to go. To get away. Anywhere but here. Because right now, in the middle of this party, you feel like an open wound, with no place to hide.

“Where the hell did she go?” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath, panic creeping into her voice as she scanned the hallway outside the bathroom. She had only stepped away for a minute, grabbed what she needed, and when she came back—you were gone.

She storms back to the table, her heart racing. “Soobin, did you see Y/N?”

Soobin looked up immediately, concern flashing across his face. “She was with you, wasn’t she?”

“I lost her,” Ryu-jin admits, held up her phone, frustrated. “I’ve been trying to call, but her phone’s not connecting.” The worry on Soobin’s face mirrors her own, and for a moment, neither of them speaks.

“I’ll check outside,” Soobin says, already rising to his feet, his determination written all over his face. Yeonjun appears at the table just as Soobin leaves. “I’ll go with him.”

“Ryu-jin? Hey, long time no see.”

She turned to see Jay standing there, his familiar easygoing smile not quite registering in the chaos of her mind. “Jay,” she said, forcing a tight smile. “Hey. Yeah. Long time.”

Jay tilted his head. “Surprising. Where’s Choi’s golden girl? Isn’t she usually glued to your side?”

Ryu-jin hesitated, her smile faltering. “They… stepped out for a bit,” she lied, tone distracted.

Her gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when she saw her. Ji-won. Sitting with her group of friends, laughing, carefree, as if she hadn’t done enough damage already. The sight of her felt like a slap to the face. “The audacity…” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath.

Jay follows her line of sight, his eyebrows raising when he spots her. “That’s Ji-won, right?” he asks, his tone laced with something between curiosity and disdain. “The one who’s always been weirdly obsessed with Y/N?”

Ryu-jin’s head snapped toward him. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Jay continues, shrugging, “back in college, she had this… thing. Like, she couldn’t stand it whenever someone said Y/N was pretty, which was often. It was kind of insane, honestly. Everyone knew Y/N was the prettiest girl back then, and Ji-won hated it. Like, visibly hated it.”

Ryu-jin chokes on her drink, coughing as she shakes her head in disbelief. Her fingers twitch with the urge to march over to Ji-won and give her a piece of her mind, but before she can act on the intrusive thought, Soobin reappears. His face is pale.

“She’s been in an accident,”

You got into an accident.

Beomgyu was sitting in his office when the call came. Everything around him blurred, the world spinning out of focus. It felt as if time had stopped for him, while the Earth kept spinning mercilessly. His body froze, but his mind was spiralling.

Y/N. Accident. The words replayed on a loop in his head, loud and cruel. He couldn't process them, couldn't let them sink in, because doing so would mean accepting that something terrible had happened to you.

You got into a car accident. Something terrible happened.

His throat tightened as he gripped the phone with trembling hands. "Wh-where… which hospital?" he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter.

The answer came, muffled like it was coming from underwater. The call ended before he could fully react. The phone slipped from his hand onto the desk as he staggered to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him.

Somehow, he made it to his car, though he couldn’t remember how. His chest heaved. With shaking fingers, he dialled another number, desperate for more answers.

“Don’t bother coming here, Choi Beomgyu.” Soobin’s voice was sharp and breathless when he answered. It sounded strained, furious even, and it only made Beomgyu’s heart sink further.

“Is she okay?” Beomgyu whispered, his voice barely audible. The question felt like it would break him. His chest felt like it was caving in, the pain clawing at him as he braced himself for the answer. He bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, his free hand digging into his hair as he fought to stay grounded.

“She’s…” Soobin’s voice faltered, and that hesitation was enough to send Beomgyu spiraling further. “They’re trying. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

It wasn’t enough. Those words, those pitiful attempts at reassurance, did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside him. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as panic surged through him. If Soobin couldn’t say you were okay, it meant you weren’t.

Beomgyu floored the gas pedal.

His mind raced as fast as the car, every thought more horrifying than the last. What if he was too late? What if he never got to see you again? His breath hitched at the thought. His hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles pale.

He had to see you. Alive. Breathing.

Anything less would destroy him.

Beomgyu bursts into the hospital, his heart pounding so loudly it drowns out the sterile beeping and muffled voices around him. He barely registers the nurse’s directions to your room. All he knows is that he has to see you. His feet carry him faster than his thoughts, and when he spots the door, he doesn’t expect the two familiar figures standing outside.

Ryu-jin sits on a chair, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shake with sobs. Yeonjun is pacing, his expression tight with worry, his hands clenched into fists.

The moment Yeonjun sees Beomgyu, he stops dead in his tracks. His gaze hardens, sharp and unyielding, as he steps forward and blocks the door with his arm.

“She wouldn’t want to see you,” Yeonjun snaps, his voice low and venomous. “Get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit.”

Beomgyu freezes for half a second before anger flares in his chest, red-hot and uncontrollable. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he shouts, shoving Yeonjun hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “I’m going to see my wife!”

Yeonjun doesn’t back down. If anything, he looks even angrier.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Ryu-jin’s voice cracks as she looks up, mascara streaked down her tear-stained cheeks. She doesn’t bother wiping it away. Her hands tremble as she points at the door. “Visitors aren’t allowed until tomorrow. She’s in surgery, Beomgyu. And it’s not… it’s not a minor one.”

Those words hit him like a freight train. The fight drains out of him, leaving only fear in its place. He stumbles back a step, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to breathe. “Surgery?” he whispers, his voice breaking. “What kind of surgery?”

Yeonjun glares at him, unmoving. “And now you come running,” he spits, his tone bitter. “After all this time? Now you care?”

Beomgyu clenches his jaw, meeting Yeonjun’s fiery gaze but saying nothing. Because he knows Yeonjun’s right.

Yeonjun’s shoulders sag, and his voice softens, “You don’t even know,” he says, eyes on the floor. “You don’t know what a fucking queen your wife is.”

The unexpected shift in tone stops Beomgyu in his tracks. He stares at Yeonjun. His words—they're spoken with such devastation that it leaves him frozen. He sees the sullen look on Yeonjun's face. After all, Yeonjun has always been soft when it comes to you.

So soft that it terrifies Beomgyu.

"Beomgyu." Soobin's voice cuts through the heavy silence, pulling Beomgyu out of his spiralling thoughts. He turns toward him, barely able to focus. "Let's talk here."

Beomgyu nods silently and walks over, his legs feeling heavier with every step. He follows without a word, leaving Yeonjun and Ryu-jin standing alone near the door.

Ryu-jin watches Yeonjun out of the corner of her eye. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a single word since his last bitter remark to Beomgyu. He stands there, staring at the floor. His hands clasped together.

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and she can’t help herself. “Yeonjun…” she starts hesitantly. “You’re not… in love with her or something, are you?”

Her words made Yeonjun’s head snap up. His eyes meet hers, and for the first time, Ryu-jin sees it—really sees it. The glassy sheen in his eyes, the way his lips part but no words come out. The heartbreak painted so clearly on his face that it makes her chest ache. “You idiot,” she whispers, her voice soft with pity.

Yeonjun lets out a shaky breath, his gaze dropping again as if he can’t bear the weight of her sympathy. “She’s… my best friend’s little sister,” he murmurs, his voice raw and quiet. “I didn’t think it was possible. Not for me. Not for her.” He doesn’t answer directly. He doesn’t need to. It’s all over his face.

Yeonjun was in love with you, ever since he first saw you.

Beomgyu sat across from Soobin, his hands clenched tightly in his lap as he listened. Soobin’s voice was calm but firm as he explained what the doctors had said—stress was the last thing you could handle right now. “I’ll let you know if it’s okay for you to see her."

The words didn’t settle easily. Beomgyu didn’t understand why no one would tell him anything about your condition, why every detail was kept from him. But knowing you were stable, even for the moment, was enough. He swallowed his frustration and nodded, agreeing to Soobin’s terms.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. As Soobin turned to leave, Beomgyu’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Please,” he begged, “Let me see her. Just once… before I go.”

Beomgyu felt like his heart was clawing its way out of his chest, beating so erratically it left him breathless. It begged to escape, just as he begged silently to be allowed into the ICU. His hands trembled, numb and unsteady. He flexed his fingers, forcing a crack to echo through his knuckles, before gripping the cold metal of the doorknob.

On the other side of this door was you—the woman he hurt.

The thought made him pause, the ache in his chest spreading to his throat, tightening it like a noose. He wasn’t sure he could face you—not like this. But he couldn’t stay away, not anymore.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and his heart stuttered at the sight of you. Your face was pale but peaceful, your eyes closed, your breaths slow and steady. The sound of the machines around you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He stepped closer, each movement hesitant, his guilt weighing heavier with every inch he bridged between you. When he finally reached your bedside, he froze, staring down at your hand—fragile and adorned with IV needles. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. They were soft. Warm. And just that small, simple touch made him breathe again—really breathe—for the first time in days.

“Baby,” he whispered, the word breaking in his throat.

He sank to his knees beside you, clutching your hand to his face. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. They fell onto your skin, warm and unrelenting, a silent apology for every mistake he had made. He pressed his lips to your hand, shoulders shook as he cried.

The past few days without you had been unbearable. If he ever had doubts, or worries, if he ever hesitated—those thoughts were gone now. It's you. He’d thought about every little thing you did that he had taken for granted. All of it. And he realized, how much it all mattered.

How much you mattered to him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, whispers to your skin as he continue to kiss your palm. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the words pouring out of him. “You mean everything to me. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now. I love you. God, I love you so much.”

He squeezed your hand, hoping—praying—that somehow you could feel him. That even in this fragile, unconscious state, you could hear the desperate beating of his heart, could feel the truth in his touch. “I’ll do better,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. If you’ll just… if you’ll just give me another chance. Please.”

He didn’t know if you could hear him. He didn’t know if you’d ever forgive him. And he hates himself how it took him this long to figure it out.

Beomgyu’s heart was in his hands now, fully exposed and vulnerable, waiting—you could somehow feel it. He rested his forehead against your hand, tears pooling on the stark white sheets. If you gave him the chance, he’d spend the rest of his life proving that his love is real. He was finally here, standing in the world where you had once stood so heartbreakingly alone. And that his heart was yours, completely yours.

He would spend forever making up for what he had done. Even if it kills him.

“Where were you?” you asked, reaching over to grab the strawberry from the basket on the kitchen table. Beomgyu’s chuckle filled the room. “I went drinking with Taehyun. Just a light drink,” he said casually, his hand brushing your shoulder as he passed behind you to grab a plate.

“Why? Did you miss your husband?” he teased, carefully plating the food before setting it down in front of you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You wish.”

He chuckled, handing you a spoon and fork before moving around the kitchen. A tall glass appeared on the table next to your plate and he poured you water.

“Did he miss me too?” Beomgyu’s voice was soft, almost tentative, drawing your gaze upward. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you were caught in the tenderness there. It made your heart ache in that way only he could.

“He?” You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you swallowed. “What makes you so sure it's a boy?” Your hand instinctively brushed over your stomach as a quiet smile softened your face. The thought of your little one—boy or girl—filled you with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I just feel it,” A small smile flickered across his lips, “What if we get twins?”

You looked down, your thoughts wandering to tiny clothes, little shoes scattered across the floor, and pastel-painted walls filled with light and laughter. “That would be… amazing,” you murmured.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Beomgyu pulling out the chair beside you. He sat down at first, but then, almost as if drawn closer by some unseen force, he shifted. You felt his gaze before you saw him—soft, unwavering, and filled with a kind of awe that made your chest tighten.

“That sounds nice, two little you running around.” he breathed, his voice almost a whisper. His hand reached out slowly, brushing against your stomach. You set down your utensils, giving him a soft nod as you shifted slightly, allowing him more access.

Beomgyu lowered himself onto his knees in front of you, his large hands resting gently on either side of your growing belly. He glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before he let out a long, steady breath. Then, with a tenderness that made your throat tighten, he leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach.

“Mommy and Daddy love you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. He sounded so vulnerable, so small—like all the pain he had been carrying had finally spilled over. His lips pressed softly against your stomach. And then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face against you.

Your hand moved instinctively, threading through his soft hair with slow, soothing strokes. He pulled you closer, as though being near you could quiet the storm in his heart. Your fingers trailed down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down his back.

And then—it shifted.

In your dream, you were cradling a baby to your chest, its tiny body safe in your arms. Beomgyu leaned down, smiling widely as you do.

You woke up, panting.

You were dreaming. It shattered as reality came rushing back. Pain coursed through you, sharp and unrelenting, pulling a small, involuntary sound from your lips.

The memory hit next, as vivid as the moment it happened. Driving through the night with tears blurring your vision, your hands trembling on the wheel. The sound of your ragged breathing, the pounding of your heart. You were speeding, desperate to outrun the ache inside. Then the impact—another car colliding into yours, the violent spin before your vision went black.

“Hnn,” you whimpered, barely able to get the sound out. Your throat was dry, parched, and every part of you ached. You needed water.

"Y/N," a voice broke through the haze of your awakening. You turned your head to see your brother, Soobin. His face paled as he dropped whatever he was holding and rushed to your side. “I—I—”

“Water. Please,” you rasped, your throat dry and raw.

Soobin nodded quickly, his hands trembling as he reached for the water bottle on the nearby table. He uncapped it, holding it to your lips as you drank. Relief was fleeting; the ache in your chest outweighed the dryness in your throat.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice a little stronger now, though your hands still shook.

“You got into an accident,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. His voice was low, almost fragile. “A surgery was performed. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

You nodded, trying to process his words, but his silence that followed unsettled you. ou looked at him, noticing the way his eyes darted away from yours, how his lips pressed together like he was holding back something he didn’t know how to say.

“What is it?” you pressed, your chest tightening with dread.

Soobin hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap before he reached out to take yours. “Let me call the nurse first, okay?” You nodded, though the fear in his voice made it hard to breathe.

You nodded, your anxiety growing as he stepped out. Moments later, the nurse arrived, and then the doctor, their voices calm and professional as they began explaining the details of your condition. But their words blurred together—a haze of medical jargon that barely registered—until one sentence shattered everything.

“You were in your first trimester when the accident occurred. The baby didn’t survive. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Your world tilted. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it felt like your heart had stopped.

“A baby?” you whispered, the word foreign and fragile on your lips.

The nurse and doctor offered their condolences before quietly excusing themselves, leaving you alone with Soobin. Your hands trembled as they instinctively moved to your stomach. “I was pregnant?” Your voice cracked, disbelief and anguish bleeding into every word. "Soobin?"

“Y/N…” Soobin’s voice was choked with emotion.

“I mean… they’re saying I was…” You stopped, the reality sinking in with a force so cruel. “Oh.”

“I didn’t even know,” Tears blurred your vision as the enormity of it all crashed down on you. You lost a baby. A life you didn’t even know you were carrying. A piece of you that was gone before you ever had the chance to feel it, to know it, to love it.

Did you have to lose your child too?

The sobs came hard and fast, wracking your body until you could barely breathe. Your hands covered your mouth, trying to hold in the grief that spilled over anyway. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant.” you choked out, your voice breaking. “And now… they’re gone.” Your hands clutched at your stomach as if trying to hold on to something that was no longer there. "It's all my fault."

Soobin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as your cries tore the room. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He held you tightly. The only thing that kept you from falling out.

Your cries grew louder, as the loss consumed you. The one you saw in your dream, so warm in your arms. You had held them, hadn’t you? You could still feel the weight of their tiny body in your arms.

Your baby.

All you could do was mourn for the life that had slipped away before you even knew it existed.

It’s been a week since Soobin made his last call to Beomgyu. A week since you opened your eyes in the hospital. And yet, Beomgyu has heard nothing.

Every day, he drags himself to the hospital. But every time, the answer is the same: no. On the fourth day, he arrived—you’d been discharged. You were gone.

Still, every morning, Beomgyu wakes up with that same aching hope that refuses to let go no matter how much it hurts. He gets through the day somehow, clutching at the thought of seeing your face again. But by night, when the world quiets, he’s left with nothing but his tears, falling asleep with the weight of your absence pressing down on his heart.

He’s distracted, eyes fixed on the same line of text glowing on his computer screen. It’s been minutes, maybe longer, and he still hasn’t moved past the first sentence. His mind is elsewhere—adrift—when a knock on the office door pulls him back.

His secretary peeks in, face filled with cautious expression. “Sir, I’ve been calling your phone. Someone’s here to see you—Park Sunghoon.”

Beomgyu blinked, confused. Sunghoon? His old batchmate, someone he’d shared classes with years ago. They hadn’t talked in forever. He nodded slowly, signalling her to let him in.

The door opens fully, and Sunghoon strides in. His pale complexion contrasts starkly with the black polo shirt he’s wearing, and Beomgyu notices the glasses perched on his nose—something he didn't have before. Sunghoon doesn’t look quite the same as Beomgyu remembers.

“Beomgyu,” Sunghoon said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’ve you been, man?”

“Sunghoon,” Beomgyu responds, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What brings you here?” He gestures toward the seat across the desk, and Sunghoon takes it. The frown etched into his brow didn’t escape Beomgyu’s notice. “Is everything okay?”

Sunghoon exhales, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on his knees. “You know I’m close with Jay, right?”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes, unsure where this is heading, but he nods. “Yeah. And?”

“Well…” Sunghoon hesitates, the words seemingly heavy in his throat before he finally speaks. “I heard about Y/N. That she got into an accident recently.” The sound of your name halts Beomgyu.

“I couldn’t ignore it anymore,” Sunghoon continues, voice quieter. “I made promises to her, you know? But lately… I don’t know. It’s been eating me alive.”

Beomgyu runs his hand to his hair, "Sunghoon…”

"I didn’t think it was my place to say this," Sunghoon begins, "When I heard you two got married, I thought maybe she’d tell you. Maybe you already know. But I came here personally, just in case. Because you deserve to know. And if I don’t tell you now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life."

He exhales deeply before continuing. “Do you remember how you used to talk about Ji-won? How you’d brag about her cooking for you, leaving little things for you—sweets, medicine, hot packs. Or the cold water she’d always leave at your bench during those grueling practices under the sun? Do you remember how she saved your ass that time you forgot your assignment, staying up late just to finish it for you? You told us all those things, over and over, like she a gem.” Beomgyu feels his chest tighten as Sunghoon meets his nervous gaze.

“All of that, Beomgyu… it wasn’t Ji-won,” Sunghoon says carefully, “It was Y/N. Every single one of those things. I know because… she asked me to help her sometimes. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t do it for recognition or because she wanted anything back. She just cared about you. I even told her once—maybe she should tell you how she felt, and even if you didn’t feel the same, at least it’d help her move on. But she wouldn’t. She told me… her love for you wasn’t about getting something back. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t selfish.”

Beomgyu’s hand trembles under the table, his knuckles white as he clenches his fists. His throat feels tight, each word hitting his ears.

“At first, I couldn’t understand her decision—I even judged her for it, thinking she was only making... things harder on herself,” Sunghoon admits, voice softening. “But over time, I realized—none of us have the right to judge someone else’s pain. You can’t measure someone else’s actions by your own standards. What might seem small or insignificant to one person could be earth-shattering to someone else.”

Beomgyu had been in love with the idea of Ji-won all along.

Those moments—the little gestures, the care, the comfort—they had become the foundation of his attachment to her. How he remembered her. They were the memories he clung to, the ones burned so deeply into his mind that letting her go had felt impossible. She was, in his mind, someone who cared for him. Someone who truly knew him.

But it wasn’t her. It was you. It had been you all along.

He thinks about Ji-won, the girl he once believed was willing to stand by him no matter what. She made him think about defying his parents, about running away from everything—his responsibilities, his future, his entire life. Ji-won was the one who fueled his anger, who stood beside him as he cursed the world and everyone in it.

And then there was you.

You, who never let him go too far. You didn’t encourage his anger—you challenged it. Even when it meant standing against him, because you wanted him to understand—not everything could be run from. It was you who reminded him that his obligations weren’t a prison but a part of him, something he couldn’t just abandon. It was you who helped him rebuild the bridge to his parents when he didn’t even realise it had been burned.

It’s suffocating now, the truth. To realise that the very actions that made him fall for Ji-won—the moments he thought defined her love for him—were never hers. They were yours.

Ji-won had been nothing but a mirror to his rebellion. This truth, made him want to see you more.

“Pour me another,” Beomgyu muttered to the bartender he leaned heavily on his forearm. The man hesitated, his concern written all over his face. Beomgyu noticed but didn’t care. “I said, pour me another one.”

With a reluctant nod, the bartender slid another drink in front of him. Beomgyu downed it in one go, the burn in his throat doing nothing to drown out the ache in his chest. He fumbled for his phone, the screen glaring back at him as he typed out messages he knew you’d never read.

I miss you, baby. Can I see you? Let’s talk, please. Are you not going to see me? Forever? Ok. I understand. I don’t deserve forgiveness. No. Please. Give me a chance. Just one chance to see you. To talk to you, please. I can’t go on another day without you. Please Y/N.

The messages sat there, unanswered.

Stumbling out of the bar, his legs unsteady and his vision blurred, he barely noticed the bartender calling his driver. He collapsed onto the pavement outside, his head in his hands, phone still clutched in his trembling fingers.

As he opened it again, ready to type another desperate plea, his screen lit up with an incoming call. His heart skipped, hope flickering briefly before seeing another unfamiliar number.

“When are you going to stop calling me, Ji-won?” he shouted into the phone, his voice hoarse with frustration and alcohol. “I’ve said it more than once—we don’t need to talk. Not ever again.”

“I just wanted to know how you’re—”

“Please!” he cut her off, his voice breaking as tears streamed freely down his face. He was shaking now, his words spilling out in a desperate sob. “Please, Ji-won… I know everything. I know what you did. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.”

He pressed his palm against his mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his own cries. “Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible through his tears. “Just let me be.”

The line ends.

Ji-won freezes, her fingers trembling as the line goes dead. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.

She exhales shakily, forcing air into her lungs that suddenly feel too tight. Her phone slips from her hand, landing softly on the bedspread. Hot tears well in her eyes, blurring the room around her. She had let herself believe—naively, foolishly—that Choi Beomgyu could still be hers.

Even after everything, she had convinced herself that there was still a piece of him that belonged to her. But now, hearing his words, she knew. She had already lost him.

The tears came harder as her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to the moment it all began. The moment her hatred for you took root.

“Beomgyu,” she had chirped, plopping down beside him on the couch. He had been immersed in a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, but she didn’t care. She wanted his attention, his reassurance. She always did. “There’s this talk going around about… Y/N,” she said, the name leaving a sour taste on her tongue. “People are saying she’s the prettiest girl on campus.” Her voice dropped, tinged with an edge of insecurity.

“But that’s not true, right? She’s not that… pretty.” She trailed off, squeezing his hand, her smile faltering as she waited for the words she longed to hear. She wanted him to say, there was no competition—that she was the most beautiful girl in his eyes.

Beomgyu was half hearing her words because he was engrossed in the book he was reading. So instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “It's true. I think she’s beautiful.”

It was on that day Ji-won began to hate you with every fiber of her being.

The kind of hatred that wasn’t born overnight, but nurtured by her insecurities, fed by the way you walked through the world without a care—dragging every boy’s eyes in your wake as if it were effortless. And the worst part? You didn’t even seem to notice. You didn’t have to notice.

Jealousy festered in her chest, growing heavier each time she caught a glimpse of you. It didn’t help that you and Beomgyu—her Beomgyu—shared a world she could never truly enter. The Chois. The big families. A legacy. Something she wasn’t, something she could never be.

The announcement of your engagement felt like the final blow. She couldn’t understand how the universe could be so evil. You, the girl she couldn’t stand, were being handed the one thing she clung to the hardest. It wasn’t fair. And as jealousy morphed into bitterness, she let herself simmer in the injustice of it all, until it burned hot enough to ignite a plan.

Ji-won thought of everything. She knew Beomgyu would be there at the party, and she knew what she had to do. She chose the kind of dress he used to love. She styled her hair the way he used to run his fingers through, practised the words he used to adore hearing spill from her lips. She even reached for the used perfume he once said he liked.

It wasn’t an accident. None of it was. Ji-won walked into that room not as a guest, but as someone determined to remind him of what they once had. It didn’t matter that he was married.

You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You destroyed it. Please, just let me be.

She swallows hard, the lump in her throat refusing to go away. The realization settles over her like a heavy fog, a fog that turns clear—she is nothing more than a wall. A futile obstacle standing in the way of two souls who are meant to be together.

She opens her phone, booking a flight—any flight—to anywhere but here.

“It’s here,” Soobin says softly, his hand resting gently on your back as he guides you forward. His finger points to the glass grave in front of you.

Gone, but forever in our hearts. Moon.

Your Moon. The name you gave your baby—a name as delicate and luminous as the child who never got to see the world. You thought long and hard about it. It had to be beautiful, just like him. A name worthy of all the love you poured into his short, fleeting existence.

You pull out your handkerchief, wiping at the thin layer of dust that has settled on the outside of the glass. Your fingers tremble as you do, as though clearing the smudges could make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. It never does. Your brow furrows as you fight the ache swelling in your chest. He’s in there—inside that small, delicate bottle. And this is all you can do for him now.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the words leave your lips. Soobin stands beside you, his smile soft but heavy with sadness. “Do you think I would’ve been a good uncle?” he asks, his voice barely louder than the wind.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the question. He kneels to place the small flowers you’d brought together, arranging them with the utmost care. There's an unfamiliar flower resting beside it. Someone must have wrongly placed it.

“Yes,” you manage to say, your throat tight with emotion. “I think the two of you would’ve been close.” You force a smile, though it wavers, your words choking you as they come out.

He reaches up and smooths your hair, a comforting gesture that almost makes you break. “He’s up there,” Soobin murmurs, his eyes lifting to the sky. “With no pain. Watching over you.”

You nod, swallowing hard, willing your tears to stay back. You can’t cry. Not here. Not now. If you cry, your baby might worry. You’ve convinced yourself of that, even if it doesn’t make sense.

The week after your discharge was unbearable.

You clung to Soobin like a lifeline, your hands gripping his. Your parents moved you back into their house without question, simply knowing you needed them.

Your mother—the strongest woman you’d ever known, the one who never faltered—cried with you when you broke the news. She held you in her arms like you were a child again, her tears falling silently against your hair as you sobbed into her chest. Your father walked with you every day, leading you to the garden where you could sit in the sunlight, as if the warmth could somehow seep into the cracks inside you. They cooked your meals, cleaned your space, and did everything you couldn’t bring yourself to do.

Tonight, you find yourself staring blankly at the walls of your old room.

The quiet feels suffocating, pressing against your chest. Sleep won’t come, and before you even realise it, tears are slipping down your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying until the dampness touches your skin. You sit up abruptly, your chest heaving as if the air refuses to fill your lungs. The stillness of the bed feels unbearable, so you push yourself off it, your feet meeting the cool floor.

Pacing back and forth, you feel the tears come harder now, unchecked and unexplainable. You don’t even know why you’re crying. It’s just there—this ache, this heaviness. You were about to go out, to get Soobin or your parents.

But then your eyes caught the window.

It glows. The moon.

It’s full tonight, impossibly bright, casting a soft, silvery glow across the room. It feels like it’s staring back at you. You stand there, frozen, the phone slipping from your hand. The moon’s reflection shimmers faintly in your tear-filled eyes, and for a moment, you forget the heaviness pressing against your chest. It’s as if the moon is speaking to you, telling you to breathe, to let go, to just be.

Your breathing steadies. You stand there, bathed in its light, feeling the faintest glimmer of peace. And the storm inside you begins to calm.

It’s been six months since you woke up.

Six months since you returned to your parents’ house, where the familiar walls offered some sense of safety. Ryu-jin and Yeonjun visit almost every weekend, their presence a small comfort. Soobin stays, too, refusing to leave your side.

It’s been almost seven months since you last saw Choi Beomgyu.

Seven months since everything fell apart.

Choi Beomgyu, who, for six months now, has spent every single day driving two hours to your parents’ house. He shows up like clockwork, no matter the weather, no matter the time. After work, he makes the trip, arriving at the big gated doors with a bouquet of white roses in his hands. Every single day.

He doesn’t make a scene or beg to be let in. He just waits, bouquet in hand, a fragile hope flickering in his eyes. White roses. Always white roses. They used to be your favourite.

His parents send gifts, too. Packages and handwritten letters arrive, carefully chosen and delicately worded, but you can’t bring yourself to open them.

And every day, you hear the knock at the gate. Every day, you peek from the upstairs window, watching him wait, white roses clutched in his hands like a lifeline. And every day, you stay hidden behind the curtains, your feet stay rooted to the floor, your heart too bruised to carry you to him.

But today is different. Today, it has to be.

The papers are in your hands. Unsigned divorce papers. You tell yourself it’s just paper, just ink, but the trembling in your hands betrays the truth.

You walk to the building you once called home, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway that once smelled of comfort and familiarity. Now it feels like a mausoleum.

Your hand hovers over the doorbell of your home—no, his home. The space you used to share feels distant. The ring in your other hand feels impossibly heavy, its cool metal biting into your palm.

You’ve tried to get rid of it before. Once, you even threw it in the trash, convincing yourself it was the right thing to do. But then came the panic. You tore through the garbage, hands shaking, the stench clinging to you as you clawed through. It didn’t matter that you ruined your clothes or that your mom’s voice cracked as she begged you to stop.

You just couldn’t let it go. Maybe, you should return it properly.

You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.

When the door swung open, Beomgyu’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything froze. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. You felt your chest tighten painfully, the sight of him unravelling something inside you. He looked… so different. His hair, longer now, fell to his shoulders in messy waves, unkempt like he hadn’t bothered to comb it. His skin was pale, almost sickly, and his eyes were rimmed with red, like he’d been crying—or hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand gripped the edge of the door like he needed something to steady him, his heart hammering so loudly he swore you could hear it. Was this real? Were you really standing there? He let his gaze trail over you, taking in your thinner frame, the hollow tiredness etched into your face. He wanted to say something, to invite you in, but the words caught in his throat.

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you stepped past him, the sharp click of your heels against the floor filling the suffocating silence. Each step echoed like a countdown, louder in his ears than it should have been. Beomgyu turned to watch you, his hand hovering uselessly at his side, aching to reach out but too afraid to try.

He closed the door softly behind you.

Your eyes scan the room, and it hits you all at once—everything’s a mess. Clothes are strewn carelessly over the couch, an empty chip bag crumpled on the kitchen counter, dishes piling up in the sink. The air feels heavy, stagnant, like the windows haven’t been opened in weeks.

And then your gaze shifts—to the open door on the right. Your room.

Your breath catches as you take it in. The bed is unmade, the sheets tangled in a way that’s unmistakable.

He’s been sleeping there. Beomgyu. In your room. In your bed.

"Uh," Beomgyu starts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, it's… kind of a mess."

You nod stiffly, not meeting his eyes. "It's okay."

The sound of your voice makes him freeze. It’s been so long since he’s heard it—too long. His chest tightens, but before he can savor it, your next words come like a knife to his heart. "I'm not going to be here for long anyway."

His brows furrow, panic flashing across his face. "Wh-why?" he stammers, his voice breaking. "I mean—"

You cut him off, extending the envelope toward him with trembling hands. "Let’s…" You swallow hard, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. "Let’s get a divorce."

Beomgyu stares at you, his mind reeling. The hope that had bloomed in his chest when he saw you standing at his door clashes violently with the reality of your words. His lips part, but no sound comes at first. Finally, he whispers, "Why?"

He can’t stop himself. The panic is overwhelming. "I went to your house every day," he says, his voice breaking. "Every single day, Y/N. I wanted to make this work. I—I sent you messages, I tried everything. Do you…" He swallows hard, his throat tight. "Do you not love me anymore?" He knows he sounds pathetic, but he doesn’t care. The speeches he’d rehearsed in his head dissolve into nothing, overtaken by the fright clawing at him.

Your breath hitches, and when you speak, your voice is cold, trembling with barely contained emotion. "I don’t care if I love you, Beomgyu. I don’t care if it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, or if it feels like I’m dying inside." You take a shaky breath, your grip tightening on the envelope. "I want a divorce. And when it’s done, you’ll never see me again."

Beomgyu flinches like you’ve struck him, his knees nearly buckling. He shifts uncomfortably, his hands shaking at his sides. "Is this still about Ji-won?" he asks hesitantly, and the way you flinch answers him before your words can.

He swallows hard, his voice growing more frantic. "It’s true, Y/N. It’s true, that I cheated. I kissed her, but as soon as it happened, I pushed her away." He presses a trembling hand to his chest. "It didn’t mean anything—it was a mistake, a horrible mistake, and I hate myself for it every single day. But please…" His voice cracks, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please, give me a chance."

You shake your head, a sob breaking free despite how hard you’re trying to hold it together. "It’s too late, Beomgyu," you whisper, your voice trembling as your hands shake. You open your hands, and try to give the ring back. "Too much has happened. We can’t go back."

Beomgyu doesn’t take it. He just stands there, staring at the ring in your palm, tears streaming down his face. He knows. If he takes it, it’s over. If he takes it, you’ll be gone for good, out of his life forever.

"I can’t," he whispers, his voice broken. "I can’t take it."

He won’t take the ring, so he takes your hand and pulled you to him, kissing your lips fervently and enduring the slam of your fists against his body and chest. It was all him; it was all his fault. He is an emotional wreck who doesn’t know what to do and how to contain his feelings.

“Beomgyu—” you gasped, your voice breaking as you pushed at his chest. He didn’t let go, his hands cupping your face, fingers brushing against your jaw like you were something fragile and sacred. His touch was shaky, his breathing uneven as his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress—his mattress now, the one that carried his scent.

“Wait—,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve. But even as you pushed against him, your lips didn’t stop moving from kissing him back. His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word until he declared his love for you through kisses. You let yourself melt under his touch.

Your hands, which had been pushing him away moments before, now found his shoulders for balance as he pressed you back into the bed. The mattress creaked beneath you, and you hated how your body still remembered him—how it responded to him like no time had passed at all.

His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours, hungry and desperate. You had missed him—every part of him. That truth burned inside you as your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with something between adoration and hunger as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

“Don’t leave me…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of. You trembled beneath him, gasping and crying out as he whispered confessions into your skin.

His mouth was poetry, speaking without syllables. His kisses, his touch—every movement of his lips and tongue—proclaimed what he hadn’t said out loud. Your body gave in, melting under the weight of his devotion, your mind consumed by him.

“Don’t leave me again, please,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He missed you so much that he's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—apologies, regrets.

"Please," His touch was gentle, even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s always been you.”

“I love you…” he murmured, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist, and he repeated the words softly into your ear, like a prayer he needed you to hear.

"Beomgyu," You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw. When he noticed your tears, he wiped them away without hesitation, his touch careful and soothing.

“Shh, angel,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head, and his hand moved in calming strokes up and down your back. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

You had come here to end it. To finally say the words that would close this chapter for good. You’d rehearsed it in your mind, telling yourself you’d leave with your head held high.

But all of that clarity blurred with every kiss he gave you, every whisper of your name that fell from his lips. Every I love you, over and over again, spoken like a spell meant to undo you. And it did. The walls you had worked so hard to build these past seven months—brick by painstaking brick—began to crack and crumble.

And when he pulled you closer, his arms tightening around you like he couldn’t bear to let go, you felt yourself falter completely. Because no matter how much resolve you thought you had, it was never enough when it came to him.

Two fractured bodies came together, love-making to each other to chase away all the scars and time passed.

The papers meant to sever—to declare the ending—lay discarded on the floor, forgotten.

The brightness of the room stings your eyes as they flutter open. You blink, disoriented, your chest tightening with a familiar weight. Panic creeps up, sharp and unforgiving. He must have left. He must have slipped out of bed again, leaving you to wake up alone.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Beomgyu’s voice is soft, tinged with concern as he gently cradles your face in his hands. He had woken up before you, the morning light spilling across the room, but leaving the bed felt impossible. Not when you were curled so closely against him, your bodies still tangled under the warmth of the sheets.

He stayed, wrapping himself around you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms holding you. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the faint scent that now feels like home. It was quiet—so quiet—until he felt the faint tremble on your body. His grip tightened instinctively, his voice barely above a whisper as he called out to you again. “Y/N,"

You blinked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. Turning your head, your eyes met his—heavy-lidded and soft with sleep. His arms tightened around your waist. A shaky breath escaped your lips, your chest tight as tears welled in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but they came anyway.

Beomgyu’s thumb brushed against your cheek, catching the first tear as it slipped down. He didn’t miss a thing. His gaze traced every flicker of emotion on your face. He opened his mouth, ready to ask what was wrong again, but you spoke first,

“You finally stayed.”

Your words made him froze. Guilt settled heavy in his chest, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His forehead pressed against yours, lips hovered so close to yours.

“I won’t ever leave. Every day, you’ll wake up, and I’ll be here. Right by your side.”

Beomgyu was different—so different it made your heart ache in the best way.

He was there, every single step, helping you out of bed like it was second nature. You had to practically fight for the simple dignity of showering alone, and even then, he lingered just outside the door, making sure you were okay.

And when it was his turn to ask for something, “Please cook for me again,” he’d said, his voice begging.

So you did. You made the soup—the very first one you’d ever cooked for him back in college. As the soup simmered, Beomgyu started to talk. He told you about Ji-won, about his unexpected interaction with Sunghoon, and how he’d rejected Ji-won long before he even knew the full truth. He spoke with an honesty that left no room for doubt, his words meant only for you.

When your mind wandered, when your eyes drifted away, Beomgyu noticed. He always noticed. His fingers would gently close around yours, pulling you back to him. He’d press soft kisses to your palms, his touch saying more than words ever could: Stay with me. I’m here.

“This is too good,” Beomgyu groaned after his first sip of the soup, you know see his face lighting up like what Sunghoon told you about. His hands cradled the bowl, and you couldn’t help but notice the glint of his ring—the one he refused to take off. It made you looked down at your own hand, there it was—your ring, the one Beomgyu fought for last night.

You took a small sip, letting the warmth spread through you. But it did little to settle the weight in your stomach. There was still something left unsaid, something you hadn’t found the courage to tell him yet. “Beomgyu,”

He squeezes your hand—the one he hasn’t let go of, even while eating. His arm stretches across the table to hold yours, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hmm?” he hums.

“Back in the hospital…” you begin, your voice trembling with of what you’re about to say. You feel his gaze shift to you, “I had a… I had a miscarriage.” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to continue. “I lost our child.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your eyes fixed on the half-eaten soup in front of you. The warmth in his hand disappears, and your heart sinks. When you hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, dread floods your chest. He’s walking away.

But then he’s there—beside you. He pulls out the chair next to yours and sits down. When he leans forward to pull you into his arms, it’s like the air returns to your lungs. He guides your face to rest against his shoulder. His arms come around you, holding you close.

“I know,” he whispers, “Soobin told me.”

Your breath catches, and your chest feels both heavy and light at the same time. “I went to him every day, you know,” he continues, his hand running soothing circles on your back. “It’s hard not to. I couldn’t stay away. He… he got me.”

You exhale shakily, your body relaxing into his. The faint memory of flowers on your baby's grave—ones you couldn’t remember bringing yourself—floats to the surface. It all makes sense now. Beomgyu had been there, mourning as you did.

Your hand never leaves Beomgyu’s as he drives.

The road feels both too short and too long, leading you to the place you’ve come to know too well. It’s green here—peaceful and impossibly beautiful in a way that feels both comforting and heartbreaking. He parks the car, steps out, and circles around to open your door. His hand finds yours again as you step out, and together, you walk the path you’ve walked before.

In your other hand, you hold the small bouquet—a gift for the little one who rests here now, your little angel. You kneel gently, placing the flowers at the grave. Beomgyu crouches beside you, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the stone.

Beomgyu’s voice breaks the silence, trembling as he whispers, “Daddy’s here with Mommy now, just like I promised you.” His words catch in his throat, and he pauses, his head bowing slightly as he tries to gather himself. “I told you I could do it,” he continues, his voice shaking, raw with emotion. “Daddy’s so sorry for everything. I promise I’ll take care of your Mommy. I’ll take care of her, I swear. You just play up there, okay? Don’t worry about us. Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything.”

Your heart aches at his words, and you press closer to his side. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, holding you tight. You cling to him just as fiercely, your bodies leaning into one another, trying not to fall apart in front of the greatest what-if of your lives.

I can’t wait to see you, wife. Almost there. I love you.

The corners of your lips tugged into a smile as you read your husband’s text. It had been a week since you decided to reconcile. And in those seven days, he had kept every promise, showing you with quiet consistency that he meant every word.

Reaching for your perfume, you lightly spritzed it onto your pulse points. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress, a small flutter of nerves in your chest.

The past still lingered—it wasn’t something that could just disappear. There were nights you woke up gasping, caught in the grip of nightmares. But the smoke always seemed to lift the moment you heard his voice, the way he whispered comfort like he could chase away the darkness with nothing but his presence. It was a start.

You spent the weekend at your parents’ house. When you told them you were giving your marriage another chance, their eyes had softened, and they gave you their support. And now, here you were, waiting for him—your husband—who was on his way to take you on your first date.

Married for almost three years, and are going out for your first date. The date he’d practically begged for, pouting for hours until you finally agreed, because he said he wanted it.

A beginning.

You make your way down the stairs. When you reach the bottom, your eyes land on Yeonjun, lounging on the couch, his fingers absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t notice you at first, but the moment he does, he sets it down without hesitation.

Walking over to him, you don’t give him a chance to say anything. Your hands gently cup his face, and before he can react, you press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Yeonjun,” you say softly, standing in front of him now, your gaze grateful. “Thank you. For everything.”

Your words seem to light him up. A smile spreads across his face, and he attempts one of his signature winks—a clumsy one at that. It’s so bad it makes you both break into laughter, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he replies, he stands up and asks for another hug from you.

"Take care, always, okay?" You nod to his shoulders. Grateful to this man who did things for you, without asking anything back.

After saying your goodbyes to Yeonjun, you step outside, your eyes sweeping across the open space in front of the large doors.

Beomgyu leans casually against his sleek black velvet car, the deep color almost absorbing the light, while Soobin stands beside him, mid-conversation. There’s a quiet ease between them, the kind that makes you pause. When they notice you approaching, Soobin pats Beomgyu’s back, their exchange winding down as they mutter their farewells.

They look like... brothers.

The sight tugs at your heart. When you told Soobin about Beomgyu’s promises, you weren’t sure how he’d react, but it felt like he already knew. “He’s the only one who doesn’t realise how much he loves you,” Soobin had said, his voice certain. “I saw it—starting back at the hospital. It was all over his face.”

Now, as you reach him, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that speaks more than words ever could. “I love you, Soobin.” you say, the words soft but full of conviction.

Soobin holds you for a beat longer than usual, his hand resting lightly on your back. He feels nothing but peace in his chest.

Maybe now, he can start chasing his own happiness too.

Beomgyu watches silently as you pull away from Soobin, his gaze never leaving you. When your eyes meet his and a soft smile spreads across your lips, his chest tightens. You’re beautiful. So achingly beautiful that it feels like his heart might splinter under your stare.

When you reach him, he leans down without a word, brushing a quick kiss against your lips. He knows he needs this. He knows he needs you.

Because without you, there’s no him.

The day felt like stepping back in time, a snapshot of a younger, simpler you.

It started with the movies, where Beomgyu would lean in for quick, stolen kisses during the darker scenes, his grin impossible to resist. Then came the arcade—a chaotic mix of flashing lights and laughter. He was relentless in his mission to win you a comically oversized teddy bear, to the point of nearly bribing the poor guy running the booth. When he finally succeeded, he held it up like a trophy, his smile as wide as the bear itself. For a moment, it felt like you were back in college, like this could’ve been one of your carefree dates from those days.

Now, you’re crammed into a photo booth together, squishing shoulder to shoulder as the timer counts down. Two grown, married adults pulling silly faces at the camera like teenagers. The faint hum of the machine is drowned out by your shared giggles, and you can feel the curious stares of actual teenagers nearby. They’re probably imagining your life is perfect, the kind of love they dream about. If only they knew how far from perfect it’s been—how much work it’s taken to get here.

When the photo strip finally slides out, Beomgyu grabs it first, holding it up with a burst of laughter. “Look at you, sweetheart,” he says, pointing to one particularly goofy expression you made. His laughter is infectious, and soon you’re both doubled over, bumping to each other as you cackle uncontrollably.

Beomgyu—who always seems so composed, so maddeningly serious—looks nothing like that version of himself when he laughs. He’s wide-eyed and carefree, his joy as pure as a child’s, and it’s beautiful. It heals you. Every day with him feels like this—a discovery, a new layer to peel back, something new to fall in love with.

“God, I love you,” he says suddenly, making your heart flutter.

“I love you too,” you whisper, the smile on your face softening as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. The squeals from the teenagers outside are instant, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you glance at them—your accidental audience, swooning over the two of you like you’re straight out of a rom-com, like they’ve just witnessed something magical.

And maybe they have.

It doesn’t matter if it’s slow, or if it took longer than it should have. Life isn’t perfect, and neither are people. Everyone deserves a second chance—just like the one you gave your marriage. Just like the one it deserved. It may have started off messy in ways you couldn’t imagine fixing, but that didn’t mean it had to end the same way.

The road ahead still feels long, but you’re learning to let go. Of the doubt that whispered you’d never make it. Of the pain. Of the mistakes and the past that clings to you. Even the scars—the ones you thought would never fade. Letting them go is the only way forward, the only way to move on. Only then can you begin again.

You glance at Beomgyu, his fingers laced with yours, his grip gentle as he leads you out of this place. His head tilts slightly as he looks back at you, and there it is—that boyish, cheeky smile that has the power to make your heart skip. All you have to do is surrender.

This surrender—is not in defeat, but in trust. Trust in him. Trust with his promises. Trust in the hope of something better. Trust in yourself.

You’ll be okay.

THE END.

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