#toris writing

[itsmarsss]

Vulgar Display of Power [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You can never fucking beat him in a fight and it's getting frustrating.

Request: omg more miguel please!!! smutty if u can xx already dating if you want? Fic title comes from my (second) favorite Pantera album. Word count: 4,350 Warnings: SMUT. established relationship, theres plot but it only serves to justify the sex lol, i use present tense in this, degrading, first time sub!miguel kind of, handjob, fingering, oral sex, penetration (p in v), semi-public sex (i guess? no one's around but the location isn't exactly private), a lot of use of pet names (baby, babe, love, mi amor), so much swearing. obviously no one is a minor here I don't mention much context but can be read as hs senior year or later, doesn't really matter. if you're a minor kindly keep away from my blog and this fic please

“Fuck!”  You yell out as Sensei Lawrence announces Miguel’s win. In turn of your frustration, Miguel sports a grin that playfully mocked you.

Now don’t get it twisted, you’re not a bad fighter. You’re not even a good one- you’re great. The best, except for…

“Diaz! Good one.” Sensei Lawrence praises.

“Nice, dude!” Hawk comes to fist bump him.

Tory comes to you. “Girl get it together! You’re better than that!”

“I’m fucking trying.”

Miguel hears the two of you talking and decides to insert himself into the conversation. “Come on, it’s not a big deal.”

“I say this with love but it is a big deal and I’m gonna find a way to beat you.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

[. . .]

“Hey,�� you hear Miguel call from behind you, turning around for a split second to look at him before getting back to packing your stuff to leave the dojo. 

“Hey.”

“So, are we still on for tonight?”

“Yeah. I just wanna go home first and take a shower.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Hey are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something seems… weird.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe,” you tell him, bringing a hand to his face and lightly tapping his cheek.

“You sure?”

“Yes! I just said it is!” You realize you blew up at him for no reason, immediately feeling bad for it and apologizing, not managing to look at him. “Sorry.”

“See? That’s what I mean!”

“I really am sorry.”

“Okay, but something’s clearly wrong.”

You stay silent, and he walks up to you, cornering you so you’d face him.

“What’s going on?”

Honestly, you don’t want to tell him. Because it would sound stupid. Because it is stupid. You don’t even exactly know why it had gotten so under your skin this time. 

“It’s fine. I’m just a bit off today.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but you don't have to lie either.”

“Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? I’m frustrated because you keep beating me.”

“What?”

“Every single time we’re picked to fight I just can’t fucking beat you. And yes, I’m glad you don’t go easy on me, cause that would be like a million times worse, but I'm frustrated with myself. You’re the only one I've never fully beat in a match. The closest I’ve ever gotten to that was a tie.”

“Well most of the time it ends up in a tie.” 

“Yeah but none of the time did it end with me winning.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Of course you don’t. I just feel like if I still can’t beat you then have I really been getting better?”

“What? That’s nonsense, babe. You know that, right? Of course you’ve been getting better. We all have.”

“See I told you it would be stupid. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way.”

“That’s okay. We can just sort that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll ask sensei for the keys.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna stay here and fight and we’re not gonna leave until you win.”

“That’s really not what I was trying to get from this-”

“What, are you scared?” He knew just how to tug on your strings. 

“Oh fuck no.”

“Then we’re doing this.”

“But what about the date?”

“We can go tomorrow. If you need my help today, I'll help you today.”

“Okay.”

[. . .]

“Alright, ready?”

You only nod your head yes, too focused to even speak.

“Okay. Round one.”

You get a couple punches in, but he’s faster than most of your hits. He wins..

You huff, annoyed. “Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Okay that’s it. Again.”

This time, determination runs through your veins, as tired as you were. Every single moment of feeling weak or inferior or as though you were seen by others as basically the female equivalent of Miguel, and not yourself, not someone capable of being better than him in any way, channeled into this round. 

And you won. This time, you fucking won. 

“Wait that’s three,” you realize.

“Yeah! You won!” Miguel celebrates.

“What?”

“You won, babe!”

“Oh my God. Holy fucking shit. I won?!”

He laughs, coming up to you. “You did.” He places a quick kiss on your lips, but you’re taken over by the adrenaline, pulling him back to you by the collar of his shirt when he went to pull away, tangling him into another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time around. “That was hot,” he comments, as you finally did let him part ways with you to breathe, your bodies still flushed together. 

You feel your cheeks burn at his comment. “I just kicked your ass,” you joke.

He doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. “Yeah you did,” he grins.

“I did not expect that to unlock some sort of loser kink in you.”

“Hey! That’s not what this is!”

You lift an eyebrow, amused. 

“What, you’re telling me it’s a crime if my insanely hot girlfriend looks insanely hot while kicking my ass?”

“Should I kick your ass more often then?”

“You’re welcome to.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Shut up,” he retorts, finally having enough of the playful bantering, unable to wait a second longer to have your lips on his again. 

Miguel pulls you even closer to him- if that were even possible- by pulling on your waist, not wasting a second more before diving in again, pulling you into a kiss that is much more feral this time around. His actions scream that he wants you, and the high from having reached your goal and beat him in the last round mixed with the lust forming in you from seeing him so affected, so attracted to this, it feels good.

You suppose some people would maybe come into an issue if they found themselves in your place. Men aren’t exactly known for being great at dealing with women being better than them in… well, anything. But Miguel acted genuinely proud of you. Hell, he’d canceled your date night to help you with this because he realized it was important to you. And more than being supportive, he was turned on by your display of power. 

His kisses start trailing out of your lips, to your jaw, to the space below your ear. “You did so well, love. You should get something in turn, huh?”

Your mind was getting a bit foggy. Still, you join in playing his game. “I suppose I should. What are you gonna do?”

“Whatever you want me to,” he breathes out. Oh. That was definitely new. 

“Whatever I want?” He only nods, looking up at you, waiting to be told what to do. Holy shit, that was hot. “That sounds good.”

“Just tell me, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” he pleads. It was almost pathetic. You decide you’d never get enough of hearing him plead like that. You loved the times in which he was more dominant, but you could definitely get behind this too, no issues whatsoever.

You pretend to think. “I don’t think I will.”

“What? Why not?”

“I want you to guess.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I- Uh- Ih-” he takes a deep breath. He liked that. You smiled. “I can do that.”

“Good boy,” you try, hoping he didn’t find it weird. 

Apparently, he didn’t. “Fuck. Fuck,” he lets out in almost strangled sounds, wordlessly dropping himself to the floor. He looks up at you with doe eyes, as if pleading for permission. You smile at him, signaling everything was okay. You cage his jaw with both your hands, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting you play with his hair.

“You look so pretty like this,” you coo, and he feels it down his spine, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit,” he repeats himself, but it isn’t demanding. Not this time. 

“I heard you.”

“Sit, please, baby.”

You grin. You didn’t know you’d like this this much. “Of course, baby.” You sit down on the bench, legs closed. He parts them confidently, eyes not leaving yours as he does so slowly, positioning his body between them. With his face mere inches from yours, he looks up at you again. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He guesses. His cheeks red, he clearly looks embarrassed. It turned him on and it turned you on too. 

You nod eagerly, signaling he’d guessed right. He smiles and closes the distance between you, pulling you down and attaching his lips to yours. It starts out slow, tender, experimental- testing the waters. He grows eager pretty fast, though, kissing you harder, his hands traveling to either of your thighs and planting themselves there firmly, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp slightly in surprise. 

He pulls away just to tease you about it. That’s the kind of little shit he is.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“Not this then?”

He squeezes your thigh again and you try to act unbothered.” He notices though, pleased with himself.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He pulls you into a kiss again with no warning, more feral than before, his hand traveling upwards, inside the legs of the shorts you were wearing. 

“Take it off,” you pant out, a stern tone overtaking your words, and he complies without questioning. You smile, pleased with that. You lift your hips slightly for him and he throws the shorts somewhere on the floor behind you. 

He stares at your underwear for a few moments, as if lost in a trance. You laugh. “Hello? You here?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Used to what?” You move a hand to caress his face. 

“The fact that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

“Aw, do you like that, baby? Does it turn you on?” You ask, your tone almost mocking him.

He only nods his head yes, looking embarrassed.

“That’s good.” You make a show to slowly take off your shirt, a sudden surge of confidence running through your veins at his words, discarding it along with the shorts behind you.  His eyes widen and he mumbles a few words, the volume of his words so low you couldn’t make it out for the life of you, before he just surges forward again, not aiming for your lips this time, but for your jaw. 

“What was that?” You manage to breathe out as he continues his trail of kisses along your jaw.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna talk you’re gonna let me hear it. Got it?”

“Oh-okay.” He continues to place quick, slight pecks along your jawline, but you know exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re not distracting me from that. I wanna know what you said, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“I said- I said uh-“ he gulps. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s okay.”

“I just said ‘fuck me’.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh. It was dumb,” you mock him again, and you can see he didn’t expect that.

“What?”

“I though you wanted to fuck me,” you joke.

 He doesn’t take it as a joke. “I do. I do I just meant- it was just-“ oh. This was for real. 

“I know, love. I was just teasing you. Okay? You’re being so good to me.”

His eyes almost sparkle at the praise. 

“You know I think I changed my mind.”

“What?” 

“Maybe I should fuck you.”

“What do you mean?”

You look down on him and smile, a genuine sweet smile. “Get up.”

“But-“

“I thought you said you’d do whatever i wanted you to,” you fake-pout. 

He doesn’t say a word before standing back up. You do the same, keeping your body flushed to his. You slowly turn the two of you around, cornering him until the back of his knees hit the bench and pushing him to sit down on it. 

Standing in front of him, you tilt your head to the side as you take in the view. He looked disheveled as ever. You loved it. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.

“I- I can take it off.”

“Yeah I think you should.”

“What… what do you want me to take off?”

“Let’s go with the shirt first, baby. How about that?”

He nods furiously. “Yeah I can do that,” he takes his shirt off in a millisecond, throwing it with your clothes on the floor. 

“Oh, you look so pretty,” you coo, stepping closer to him and lifting his chin up to look at you. You make your way around the bench to be behind him, and you can see him gulp in anticipation. Fuck, you were loving this a little too much. You trace his biceps with your finger. “Your arms, I love your arms, you know that? So big and strong,” you exaggerate, and he quirks an eyebrow at the suspicious comment. This doesn’t sound like it was getting to a nice praising place. “And your body, I mean your abs. Your thighs, your thighs are so pretty, baby,” you crouch a bit, still behind him, wrapping yourself around his back so you could snake your arms to his thighs, still only tracing them with a single finger. “So how come you lost to me like a bitch?”

That seems to remind him very well of what was happening.

“It- it was one time.”

“One time you lost to me. But you’ve barely ever won, have you?”

He stays quiet. 

“Come on, baby, talk to me…” you pout, snaking your arms around his torso and kissing his neck.

“N-no.”

“Did you like that you lost to me baby?”

Quiet again.

“Did it turn you on?” You whisper in his ear and you can feel him take in big a breath. .

He couldn’t even look at you .

“Oh, pretty boy, I wanna hear your voice!”

He gulps again. “It- it turned me on,” he confesses. 

“I never knew you were into this sort of thing.”

“Me- me neither.”

“Do you like it when I’m stronger than you? When I tell you what to do?”

You remove yourself from his body entirely, and he whips his head at record speed to look at you, desperate for your touch again. You circle the bench once again, standing in front of him. You grab his jaw and lifts his head up to look at you, your other hand messing with his hair. “So pathetic. I’ve barely done anything to you and you’re this hard.”

You finally sit yourself down on his thighs, legs on either side of his torso, and he immediately and instinctively grabs your ass ‘for support’ as he’s always insisted with a grin. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic you’ll do anything I tell you to. Won’t you?” You pout, tilting your head.

“I’ll- I’ll do anything you want.” 

“That’s a good boy,” you mess with and pet his hair again. You loved it when it was just long enough for his curls to appear. 

He shivers. “Can you say it again?”

“Oh, no can do, baby. You’ll have to keep being a good boy to earn it.”

“I’ll- I’ll be a good boy, okay?”

You nod silently, your arms draped around his neck, and you pull yourself closer to get access to his face. You kiss along his jawline slowly, paying extra attention to the spots just under his ears, which made him shiver like crazy. When you find it sufficient, you move down to his neck, and he lets you, tilting his head to the side. You kiss down his neck, trying your best to not leave any marks. He’s still shivering now, and you know him well enough to know he’s okay, but can’t resist teasing him a bit more. 

“Oh no, baby, you’re trembling! Is everything okay?” You feign ignorance.  He doesn’t reply. “Aw are you too horny to speak to me? Is that the issue?” You mock.

He lifts his hips for some friction, an involuntary tell that he was enjoying this too. “Aw, do you like it when I’m mean to you? Huh?” You lift his chin again. He begrudgingly nods his head yes. You smile and move your hand from his chin to his cheeks, squeezing both off them. “Does my baby like it when I’m in control? When I handle you like this? When I call you names?” 

He tries to reply, but can’t really with you squeezing his face like that. 

“Oh I can’t hear you baby!” You let go of his face. “You’re gonna have to say it again.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I- I like it when you’re mean to me.” 

“I know, baby boy. I can feel it.” With no other warning, you palm him through his shorts. He was impossibly hard. Knowing he was liking this was for sure improving your confidence. The moment your hand meets his crotch his breathing becomes unsteady and he thrusts his hips up again, wanting more. You start kissing along his neck as you keep feeling him up through the shorts, and then he is gone. He lets himself let out delicious moans you would play on repeat if you could, tilting his head back to grant you better access to his neck. He wants more, and you know he does. But you want to hear him say it. 

After a few minutes, he does. 

“Please take it off.”

You press a gentle kiss to his neck, containing a grin. “What are you talking about, babe?”

“My shorts, take them off, please. Please, take them off.”

You press a quick peck on his lips this time. “You beg so pretty, baby. I think I’ll need more of that.”

He looks confused.

“Anything I tell you, right?” 

He nods. 

“Good. Eat me out.”

His eyes widen at the bluntness of it all. And then he realizes what you meant by needing more of his begging: you weren’t going to solve his little problem all that soon. 

“I- yes. Yeah.” 

You pull yourself off of him and he stands up as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing your hand and yanking you to Sensei’s office, rushing to move everything that was on his desk. You catch his drift and pull yourself up to sit on it. You’re so enthralled you don’t even really have the time to rethink what you’re doing and where you are. Miguel gets himself on his knees, and the sight of it from above is breathtaking. 

“Are you sure you wanna be on your knees? They’re gonna hurt.” You ask him, seriously this time.

“I don’t care,” is all he says, dismissing the thought. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, and you let yourself lean back on your elbows. He brings a hand up your thigh and takes off your underwear, you lift your hips up to help. 

He brings both his hands to your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, opening your legs. 

He wastes no time before diving in, startling you when, in a second, his head is between your thighs while his hands squeeze them hard and his mouth is suddenly on you. 

He moves his tongue up and down your clit, occasionally circling around it. Now and then he takes a long lick, from your hole to your clit, letting out a moan from time to time as he tastes you, and he picks up on the shaky breaths and loud moans you let out at that (and the way your hands fly to his hair, slightly pulling it.) 

He moves his tongue to your hole, licking and kissing around it before getting it inside.

It makes you almost want to scream out his name. 

“Oh my god. You’re being so good to me, baby. Please don’t stop-” 

You can feel his smile. 

He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and moves it to thumb at your clit as he keeps fucking you with his tongue. The feeling is heavenly, but you can’t help but want more. 

“Your fingers.” Is all you say, and he gets it.

Normally in a situation like this he’d be teasing you in some way, but right now just the thought of upsetting you with that and having you leaving him to finish himself off, or something down that lane, got him quiet. 

He changes what he’s doing, going back to flicking your clit with his tongue, and slowly inserting one of his fingers. You decide you want to tease a bit more. “That all you got?” You challenge him, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He inserts another finger, not taking the care to do it slowly this time, and he pushes them deep inside you, curling them upwards to make sure you felt it.

You let out a moan that’s so pornographic you’re almost embarrassed at it, but you can feel him grin at it, pleased with the reaction. He keeps on, but at a slow pace. In other instances, you didn’t mind some slow, passionate sex. You loved it, even. But right now you wanted to be fucked.

“Harder.”

He pulls his head up to kiss you. You let him. As you make out, your taste still on his tongue, his fingers thrust harder, deeper inside you, making you moan into his mouth, which Miguel seemed to enjoy a little too much.

You can feel yourself brimming an orgasm, and your words become nonsense as he keeps on, your noises becoming so higher-pitched you can barely register you’re the one making them. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fucking-“

It hits you suddenly, killing your train of thought. Your body trembles as he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, letting you ride out your high. He laps it all up gladly, but you pull him away, your clit oversensitive. 

That doesn’t mean you didn’t want more.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yes, baby. You were such a good boy. But I want you to fuck me now.” 

Miguel was still not used to you being this blunt. And honestly neither were you, for the matter. The words just kept coming out. 

“What- what do you want me to do?” 

You get close to his ear and whisper. “Whatever you want, baby.”

His eyes widen. Whatever he wants. 

 He pulls you off the desk and wordlessly takes you back to the locker room. He leaves you for a second to retrieve a condom from his bag. A prepared man, you’d say.

You manage to take a better look at him and laugh. He furrows his eyebrows together. “What?”

“You look so fucked out right now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and takes off his shorts, kicking them away. He goes to pull his boxers down but you stop him, stroking him in an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a groan. “Please stop, I’m not gonna last.”

“Oh poor you.” You yank his boxers down. His dick is so hard it must be painful. And all from losing a fight and being called mean names. He walks the two of you backwards until your back is against a wall. He puts the condom on and looks at you for a green light. 

“Go on, baby.” 

He nods, pressing his cock into your hole slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion.

“Fuck.” You breathe out.

“Was that a good fuck or a bad fuck? Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. It was a good fuck.”

“Okay.” He hikes up one of your legs to his waist, and you think he’ll be content with that position, but he hikes up your other leg too, pressing your back even more firmly to the wall and supporting your weight by holding firmly onto the back of your thighs. 

“Woah what are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother responding, thrusting into you experimentally. 

“Holy shit.”

That is enough for him. His thrusts become harder, deeper, faster. He hadn’t realized just how desperate he was until now. 

Hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars with every thrust, it doesn’t take long for his breath to quicken and his thrusts to become sloppier. “I’m gonna- can I-“

Was he trying to ask for permission to cum? Holy fucking shit, that was hot.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. You’ve been so good. You can cum.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he chanted.

 You laugh as his desperation, but it quickly turns into a moan, with Miguel eager to cum and fucking you so hard now you can’t even understand how he could still hold up your weight while doing that. Bless you universe for giving you a strong, strong boyfriend. But all of that didn’t matter now, because he was fucking you so good you could feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm building again.

“Please don’t stop.” That was the first time you begged him for something the whole time.

“I won’t, mi amor.” Oh, that broke you. That one pet name didn’t come out all that frequently, so when it did, you felt giddy on the inside. 

With a few more thrusts, both of you reach your high, and at that point Miguel did have to pull you down, although your legs currently trembled so hard it was a little difficult to stand, but he helps you out after tying the condom up and throwing it away.

“Holy shit,” you finally let out. 

“Holy shit,” he agrees. 

“What were you saying about your loser kink again?”

“Will you shut up about that?” He smiles.

“Was I too mean to you? I might’ve gotten a little carried away."

He looks down to the floor in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. “I liked it.”

“That’s good baby. So, shower?”

“Yeah you stink,” he makes a disgusted face, plugging his nose and everything just to irritate you. 

You roll your eyes at him. 

A/N: pls be kind to me and cut me some slack i've never posted smut before 😭 i promise ive had sex before 😭 fighting for my life lmao

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

“si, look at me.” simon's gaze meets yours as you turn his head towards you with a delicate hand. he can’t stop the small gasp of mesmerization that escapes him; the deep pools of love and devotion that smolder in your eyes look unfathomable, like a vast sea of water out in a sweltering desert. as your palm cups his face, simon feels his heart surge and ache at the sight of your captivating, teetering smile.

you tenderly glide your thumb over his skin, longingly. “if you don’t let go,” you shift closer--- melting him despite the bleak, glacial weather, to press your supple lips against the underside of his jaw, breathing in the spice of his cologne. “if you don’t forgive yourself; unless you forgive what happened, you can’t possibly move on.” you murmur, withdrawing your hand from his cheek and planting it against his chest, where his heart, that seemed to beat solely for you, lay pumping a mile a second. “johnny's death is not your fault.” and while simon had heard those exact words, many times over — this time he truthfully believed it. 

[cxtori]

Satoru Gojo ✭ Kiss Me Back

wc: basically 5k… it wasn’t meant to be lmao

summary: based off of this thought i posted a while ago

genre: angst, fluff, drunk “confession” but it gets misunderstood, friends to lovers, silly drunk Gojo

warnings: n/a

tori’s note: I finished this fic after having it in my drafts for almost a year. I kinda strayed from how my original prompt went lol. Idk how I feel about the second half of this, I’m not a huge fan of it but y’know, it be what it be. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Gojo doesn’t drink often. In fact, it’s more accurate to say he never drinks. He hates alcohol. The way it tastes, the way it burns, and especially how quickly it affects his system.

He’s always been a lightweight, it only taking a few shots before he was intoxicated. But for some reason, Shoko’s teasing pressure to get him to drink got to him a lot more tonight than usual. 

It was supposed to be only one shot, then just one more. But now, here he is, a couple hours later and 6 shots down, drunk and stumbling, leaning against you for support.

You grunt as you struggle to keep the tall man vertical and walk him down the street to your car. 

“You are amazing, Y/n,” Gojo slurs, wrapping his arm tighter around your neck. You huff and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that 3 times already,” you laugh lightly. Gojo trips over his own foot, causing you to stumble and almost fall. Thankfully, you catch yourself and keep the two of you from crashing into the concrete. 

“Jeez, Toru! Are you serious?” You ask, unbelieving that he was so intoxicated that he really couldn’t walk straight. Gojo only moans miserably in response. “We’re almost there,” you sigh.

You knew how much he hated the repercussions of drinking and tried to stop him before it was too late. But he seemed to be feeling a little self-destructive tonight, so your warnings fell on deaf ears, much to your annoyance. Even so, you still felt empathetic enough to take him home yourself, turning down Nanami’s kind offer to do so.

After another block of walking and stumbling, you finally make it to your car, opening the passenger side and awkwardly shuffling around as you try to help Gojo into the seat. It felt like he was purposefully doing everything he could to make this simple task as complicated as possible. Which, honestly, you wouldn’t put past him. 

You eventually get him and his lanky limbs into the vehicle and hold back a laugh when he groans and dramatically drapes himself over your center console, arms spilling into the driver’s seat. You walk around to the other side of the car, moving his arms carefully before sitting down and pushing him to lean against the window. 

“Okay, tough guy. You still have the water Nanami gave you?” You ask. Gojo clumsily reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the water bottle he somehow managed to fit in there. Damn men’s pocket sizes.

“Good, I want it empty by the time I make it to your place,” you state, turning on the car and pulling into the street.

“The whole thing?” Gojo whines. You laugh breathily, finding amusement in his drunk demeanor.

“Yes, the whole thing. Gotta stay hydrated so drink up!” You encourage. 

The white-haired man mutters a complaint as he cracks open the bottle, and you watch dumbfounded as he drains it in seconds. 

“I didn’t mean drink it all at once…” you say. Gojo shrugs and sinks further into his seat. 

You drive in silence for a few minutes, the pale, orange street lights whizzing by and the soft, white noise of the tires rolling on the pavement making the ride a peaceful, comforting experience. At least it would be if Gojo wasn’t staring holes into the side of your face. 

In his drunkenness, he’d somehow managed to misplace his glasses and blindfold, much to your dismay. You adore those brilliant blue eyes, but damn, if they weren’t intimidating as hell when they were staring you down. You do your best to ignore it, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you. 

You feel your heart skip a beat when a cold, calloused finger presses gently against your temple before tracing your hairline, sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty,” Gojo whispers, his words barely audible. Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. 

“O-oh, umm… I- th-thank you,” you stutter horribly. Gojo hums softly as though he’s satisfied with your reaction before laughing lightly. His hand leaves your quickly heating face as he turns back to the window, slumping against the cool glass. 

After what couldn’t have possibly even been a minute, you hear the faintest snore come from the man. You poke his arm, expecting some kind of reaction. But nope, he’s out.

You take a deep breath and start blasting the AC. It suddenly feels really stuffy in here.

You soon reach his house and pull into the driveway before parking the car and climbing out. You open the passenger door, being careful to not let Gojo dump out onto the ground. You shake his shoulders, whispering to him that he was home and needed to wake up. After some gentle-turned-vigorous shaking, the man wakes up bleary eyed and a bit confused. 

“Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?” You tease, taking his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. He grunts, reluctantly swinging his feet out of the car and onto the ground. The moment he stands, he leans back against the car, his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. 

“Shhhhit, why did I do that?” He slurs, the alcohol still screwing with his brain. At least he’s more coherent than 30 minutes ago. 

“Not to be like that, but I did try to stop you,” you joke.

“Shut up,” he groans. His eyes open and meet with yours, but instead of holding the annoyed glare you were expecting, they were soft, appreciative. His typically pale complexion was still dusted pink, though not nearly as flushed as earlier, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile to accompany it. 

He leans against you, his arms snaking around your waist in a loose hug, and his head resting heavily on your shoulder as he sighs. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Why don’t you thank me when I’ve gotten you inside!” You laugh awkwardly, pushing the large man off of you. 

Gojo pouts, his soft, pink lips protruding in a way that could only be described as borderline sensual. You tear your eyes away from him and link your arm in his to walk him into the house with much less stumbling this time.

You make it inside, Gojo dragging down the hall to his room while you dig in his kitchen cabinets in search of ibuprofen. Once you’ve found what you’re looking for, you grab a glass and fill it with water before making your way to Gojo’s room.

You knock on the door, the sound echoing through the cold, empty hallway. A muffled “come in” reaches your ears and you open the door. 

You step in and your eyes land on a half-naked Gojo sitting on his bed, stopping you in your tracks. He did say to come in, didn’t he?

He looks at you, a questioning expression written on his face. With everything he’s done this evening, it’s beginning to be hard to believe he’s not purposefully trying to fluster you.

You draw in a breath and walk over to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.

“Here, for the potential hangover,” you say, handing him the pills and water. He takes it gratefully, downing the meds and water quickly. He sets the glass on the nightstand with a soft thunk, and an odd silence follows after. 

“Well, I’m gonna head home now. G’night, Toru,” you say, turning on your heels and heading to the door. Your hand barely touches the doorknob when Gojo says your name.

“Y/n,” he calls quietly. You stop and turn to him with a questioning hum, but he doesn’t give any response back other than a waving hand, signaling for you to come back to him. You shuffle awkwardly to stand in front of him, confused about what he wants. 

He stands up, his chest almost bumping against yours as he does so. You begin to take a step back, but before you can, his hands are on your waist, holding you in place. You look up at him to ask what he’s doing, but the words get stuck in your throat the moment your eyes meet his.

Those bright, cerulean eyes that were so often hidden from the world, were looking at you with such care and fondness that it made your chest tighten. 

Before you’re even aware of what’s happening, his warm, soft lips are pressing tenderly against yours. 

Your tense muscles relax and eyes flutter shut as your lips push back against his. His hands grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him before one lifts the back of your shirt, fingers dragging slowly over your skin. 

You sigh into him, your own hands traveling up his arms, to his neck, eventually finding home in his silky hair. His other hand moves from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss. 

His tongue darts out and sweeps across your lips and the faintest lingering taste of bitter alcohol bites your tastebuds, snapping you back to reality. It’s only then that you remember who you’re kissing, where you are, and how you got there. 

Your eyes fly open and hands move to his chest, pushing him away from you harshly. Gojo loses his balance, landing back into a sitting position on his bed, his once peaceful expression now shocked and confused. 

Your hand covers your mouth, surprised by your own actions. It’s only a second or two that you stay there, staring at each other before you decide that you should definitely leave.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” you say, wasting no time in leaving his room and ignoring his calls for you. You jump into your car and start the engine before your door is even closed.

What were you thinking? He’s the drunkest he’s been in ages, how could you let that happen? You curse yourself as you drive home, frustrated that you allowed such a thing when your friend was in such a vulnerable state.

 You make it home and park in the driveway, but you don’t leave. You sit in your car and stare blankly at the steering wheel as the full weight of regret begins to sink in. 

You’ve desperately wanted that man to kiss you for years now. But not like this! Not when he was intoxicated and most likely not thinking straight. You wanted a genuine kiss; one he gave you because he truly wanted to. Not because his drunk-self just wanted attention.

How are you supposed to keep your feelings for him under wraps after this?

You’ll just have to lie. You’ll tell him that it was just a slip up, that you were caught off guard. That he kissed you and- dammit, you kissed him back! And not only that, you were wrapping your arms around him. You can’t play off your feelings for him when you kissed him like that!

You groan painfully as you open your door and force yourself into your house, trudging your way to your room. You change your clothes and crawl into bed before plugging your phone in. The screen lights up with the red battery, which disappears quickly, revealing a missed call and several texts from Gojo.

I’m sorry Y/n. Can we please talk?

It wasn’t what you think

Y/n?

Hello?

He almost never texts you, let alone several times in a row. But you can’t find it in you to respond. You turn off your phone and stare at your ceiling for what feels like an eternity, the moment replaying in your mind on repeat. 

It wasn’t what you think? What is he assuming you think?

You raise a finger to your mouth, remembering how it felt to have his lips on yours as you trace over them. 

It was so warm, so sweet. The way he held you close to him, so strong yet gentle. The way his thumb stroked over your face so tenderly. Maybe… it was real.

No. You can’t allow yourself to believe it was genuine and get your hopes up, you can’t.

You roll over onto your side just as your screen lights up once more. You take a glance at it and find another text from Gojo. 

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please let me explain.

A new wave of anxiety washes over you when you realize you’ll have to see him tomorrow. You do work at the same school after all. You don’t have a few days to process this or even find a way to respond. 

You wrap tighter into yourself and painful tears fill your eyes, not taking long before they’re streaming down your face and soaking into your pillow. You just want the earth to open and swallow you. 

Your only comfort is in the slim possibility that he was still drunk enough to have a chance of not having clear memories the next day. Maybe he’d wake up, see the messages he’d sent you and not even remember what it was about. 

You know it’s a foolish hope. He wasn’t drunk enough during that kiss to have no recollection of it. Even so, it’s the only thought that calms you down enough to fall asleep. 

Okay, all you have to do is file a couple reports, meet with Ijichi and Nitta, and check in with Shoko on a new corpse. You don’t even have to be on campus the whole day, just do your few tasks and leave. 

You were not going to talk to Gojo today. You’re not sure your heart can handle it right now. You’ve barely even processed what happened last night. It’s like your mind is trying to convince you it was a dream. But the unanswered texts still sitting in your inbox say otherwise. 

You decided you would do your best to avoid the inevitable conversation. You’re sure that when he sees you, he’ll likely confront you about it. But, if you were with others, you knew he’d keep his mouth shut. You can’t hide from him, but you make damn sure he can’t catch you alone.

You know you’ll have to talk about it eventually, just not today. And maybe not tomorrow. Or the day after that.

You take a deep breath as you walk into the school and head for Yaga’s office. You’re not too worried about bumping into Gojo here as he usually avoids this part of the school simply because he’s afraid of running into Yaga and being asked to do something he doesn’t want to. 

You make it there without incident and knock on Yaga’s door before entering. Thankfully, your meeting doesn’t last long as you just have to turn in your reports and give him a quick rundown of your past week’s assignments.

Next was finding Ijichi and Nitta. Which meant going to the more common areas of the school. Which meant risking running into Gojo.

At this point, you were just hoping he decided to go MIA today as he typically did. Or maybe he’d be too hung over to even bother getting out of bed. Whatever the case may be, you just hoped he wouldn’t be behind the door to which you are about to enter.

You turn the doorknob quietly and poke your head in, finding no one but Ijichi sitting at a desk looking over a stack of papers, and you feel relieved. You step inside and Ijichi looks up, a small smile appearing once he sees it’s you.

“Ahh, Y/n. You’re a bit early,” he greets kindly. 

“Haha, yeah. My meeting with Yaga didn’t take as long as expected,” you laugh softly as you walk over to the desk and take a seat across from the man. “Where’s Nitta?”

“She’s currently out with the first years. They were sent to investigate the disturbance you reported a few days ago. Turns out it was just a few Grade 3 curses roaming around.” Ijichi replies.

He shuffles the papers spread out on the desk into a few separate piles before picking up each one, shaking them into neat stacks and paper clipping them together.

“Oh, that’s good to know,” you say with a smile. “So, you said you and Nitta needed something?”

“Oh, yes. We wanted your opinion on-”

“Gooood morning!” A familiar voice calls happily as the door swings open. You hunch over in your chair and glue your eyes to the papers in front of you, not daring to look at the man. You didn’t think you would run into him this soon.

“Oh, goodmorning, Gojo,” Ijichi says.

“Ijichi,” Gojo greets and nods to his co-worker.

He turns to you, your eyes still studying the reports laying in front of you. It was obvious you weren’t reading them though, considering they were upside down to you. “Y/n,” he says quietly.

You still refuse to look at him, mumbling a barely audible “good morning” in return.

Ijichi, sensing some tension, clears his throat and returns to the matter that brought you here in the first place. He only had a few questions, wanting your opinion on which recent cases should be assigned to which students. It wasn’t long before you had fulfilled your need and could leave.

You say your goodbyes, stand from the desk and make your way to the door, still having not spared Gojo, who was leaning against one of the couches, even a glance.

Despite hiding his eyes behind that dark blindfold of his, you could tell he’d been staring at you the whole time. You could practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin. But, just as you expected, he didn’t dare bring up anything about the previous night with Ijichi in the room.

You walk out the door, thankfully leaving Gojo behind it. But you weren’t sure how long he’d stay there. You make your way quickly through the halls as you head towards the morgue. You open the door and step inside, the cold air making your body shake with a chill. 

You walk through, but find no sign of Shoko. Deciding that she must be in the office, you turn and start making your way over, it being just a couple doors down the hall. 

You step outside of the morgue and about jump out of your skin when you’re met with blinding white hair. Gojo. Of course. You should’ve known he would catch up to you. 

You stand there for a moment, him standing in the doorway and therefore blocking your exit. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, not really, only giving him quick glances. It must be so easy for him to make “eye contact” when he doesn’t really have to.

“Can we talk?” He says, his voice taking on an unusually shaky and serious tone, and you suppress a sigh. Any hope you had of him not remembering last night shattered with those three words.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quietly, desperately wanting to avoid the impending conversation. 

“Y/n,” he says, his large hand reaching carefully for your arm. You move quickly, avoiding his grasp.

“I don’t want to talk,” you say and push past him, making it through the doorway. You speed walk down the hallway to the morgue office, thankful that it’s just a few doors down. Gojo begins to say something but before he can, you’re knocking on the door, shutting him up quickly.

Shoko opens the door only a moment after you’ve knocked, silently stepping aside to let you in once she sees it’s you. Her neutral expression breaks a bit when she sees who’s behind you.

“Gojo, wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she says, referring to the rough condition he was in last night.

“I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He chuckles. He looks at you as he says this and you feel your face grow warm. Shoko walks over to her desk and shuffles through the various items in search of something.

“How are you feeling? You haven’t had that many drinks in a long time,” She asks curiously.

“I feel great actually. Y/n is a pretty good caretaker,” he says, once again looking over at you. “She’s the reason I’m not hungover.”

Yep, you certainly were. Maybe you should’ve skipped the water and ibuprofen. But that was before what happened. Past you had no idea that future you would be cursing that decision.

“He wasn’t too much trouble was he? Gojo’s always annoying when he’s drunk.” Like he’s not annoying when he isn’t drunk.

“He was fine,” you say plainly, wanting to move on from the topic.

“Fine is one way to put it,” Gojo says, an obnoxiously flirty smirk on his face. What happened to the serious and borderline nervous Gojo you had just a moment ago? Bring him back please.

“Maybe I should’ve let Nanami take you when he’d offered,” you mutter. Shoko turns back around to you, confused by the comments being made.

“Is that really what you would’ve wanted?” Gojo asks. 

“If it means we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, then yes.”

Shoko looks between the two of you, reading the looks on your faces and expertly deciphering that this was not a conversation she needed (or wanted) to be a part of.

“I’m not getting involved in this,” Shoko mutters as she collects her things and quickly leaves the room, abandoning you in this anxiety-inducing situation. “We can meet later, Y/n.”

“Ah! Wait, Shoko!” You call, but she ignores you and walks out the door. Well, this certainly isn’t what you wanted to happen. Now you had no excuse to leave and apparently didn’t have anyone to have your back. You knew Shoko saw your plea for help in your eyes and she actively ignored it. But, it is Shoko. She always avoids getting involved in things that don’t concern her.

The silence that follows Shoko’s leaving is so incredibly deafening and you hope the ground will open up beneath you. You debate leaving, but you know that Gojo will just follow you. There was no escaping it now. Dammit, and you were so close to getting out without speaking to him.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the desk, your eyes glued to the floor.

“Y/n,” Gojo speaks softly. You refuse to look at him. You can’t. You don’t know what will happen if you do. “Y/n.” He steps closer to you and you sink further into yourself, feeling your throat tighten. “Let me explai-”

“What did you mean?” You close your eyes, finding yourself talking before you can even comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“What?” Gojo says, confused. You sigh, annoyed with yourself now for having said anything.

“Your text. You said it wasn’t what I thought it was. What did you mean?” Gojo looks at you. Well, you assume he’s looking at you. He could be looking at the wall behind you for all you knew.

“I…” Gojo starts but doesn’t finish. He sighs quietly and leans against the chair in front of you. He doesn’t attempt to speak again for a long moment and you begin to wonder if he even plans to. And you’re right, he doesn’t speak. But instead, his hand reaches for the dark blindfold hiding his eyes, and he pulls it down around his neck, his snow white hair falling into his face.

You tear your eyes away as soon as he does, not able to bear even the thought of looking at him directly in those blue irises. Luckily, you’re not tempted to as he keeps his head down, his hair shielding his eyes from your view.

“I remember everything from last night,” the man says finally. You feel your heart sink. You knew he remembered, but for some reason, hearing him say so only made your anxiety worsen. “You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye last night,” he says with a mild, teasing tone, though it was made with minimal effort, the tension in the room making it hard to joke playfully.

Your arms tighten around you and your throat burns, your eyes remaining focused on everything but him. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be leaving in such a hurry either,” you say, risking your voice breaking into tears. Gojo chuckles.

“I thought you’d stay for a bit longer after the way you were kissing me,” He jokes, and this time it has his usual lightheartedness to it. Despite that, you feel your blood run hot through your body and for a moment you forget that you’re avoiding looking at him. Your eyes whip over to see him already looking at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Wha- you kissed me!” You whisper yell, afraid that someone outside may hear you. You can’t believe him. HE made a move on YOU, and yet he wants to talk about the way you were kissing HIM?

“Buuut, you kissed me back!” He says accusingly but airily. You close your mouth at this. He’s right, you did. And this is just what you were afraid of, him realizing that you kissing him back meant you actually enjoyed it if only a little. You couldn’t hide it.

“And I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You turn your gaze away just in time to miss the way Gojo’s face twitches and his smile drops. Before you can’t stop yourself, you continue to speak, the coil in your throat snapping and the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me to begin with. But please, I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it. I know you were drunk and it was a mistake just… Please, don’t tell me that.” 

The silence that follows your statement is so quiet that you can hear Gojo’s uneven breaths alongside your own. You feel the urge to run, to walk out the doors and never turn back. To find a hole somewhere to bury yourself in, never to resurface.

“You think I made a mistake?” Gojo’s words barely reach your ears, his voice so soft you almost have to strain to hear it. He looks at you, completely dejected. “Even if I did feel that way, do you think I’d come here to mock you for it? Do you think I’d be that cruel?” The hurt in his voice is so obvious that you can feel it yourself.

“I… I don’t know.” Truthfully, you did know. You knew he wouldn’t do something like that. He may be annoying, but he’s not cruel. It was out of your own fear of the outcome that you were avoiding this conversation. But then, two words in his statement stand out to you. 

Even if. 

Meaning even if it was a mistake. Meaning he didn’t think it was?

The tears welling in your eyes begin to fall when you dare to look up at him, his own already on you. But you don’t look away this time.

“Would you have kissed me if you were sober?” You ask quietly. Gojo’s shoulders slump and his face grows longer at your words. He takes a cautious step towards you, testing to see if you’ll back away. And you don’t.

“Y/n, I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. He takes another step forward, this time reaching out a hand to place on your arm, and you don’t pull away.

“That’s what I meant when I said it wasn’t what you thought. I knew you figured it was an alcohol-influenced choice. And while the alcohol admittedly may have had something to do with it, that wasn’t why I did it.” Your vision blurs as you begin to cry, your tears feeling like rivers of fire as they flow down your cheeks.

“I did it because I wanted to, Y/n,” he admits. He lifts a hand to your face, wiping your tears as he strokes your cheek with his knuckles.  “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. And one I don’t regret.”

You close your eyes, not being able to see with them open anyway. His other hand moves from your arm to swipe at your tears, both hands now cupping your face tenderly.

“I don’t know what to say,” you mumble. You raise your hands to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your thumbs stroking over the back of his hands. You open your eyes, your vision clear enough to see him looking at you fondly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His soft lips that, in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking about all morning.

Your gaze must have lingered on his mouth for a moment too long as his smile widens. He comes closer to you, his head towering over yours and his hands guide your face to continue looking at him.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. But.” He leans his face to yours, his warm breath against your lips. “I would like to kiss you again. And I hope you won’t run away this time.” His voice lilts in that familiar, teasing tone and your heart twists.

“I won’t,” you say with a breathless laugh. 

His large hands continue to hold your head as he moves forward, wasting no time in putting his lips against yours in a passionate but tender kiss.

And this time, you let yourself kiss him back.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

[gyu-tori]

Beneath the Bite | C.BG

Pairing: non-idol!beomgyu x fem!reader Genre: Angst, Romance, Apocalypse

Summary: In a world where the dead don’t stay dead, Beomgyu has mastered the art of survival—alone and emotionally guarded. But that changes when he discovers Y/N, there’s something different about her. She’s resourceful, determined, yet there's one problem that changes everything: she’s been bitten.

Bound by an uneasy alliance, the two navigate not only the dangers of the undead but the fragile trust growing between them. As Y/N tries to hold on to the last bit of humanity she has left, Beomgyu begins to question the walls he’s built around himself.

How far would you go to save someone who might already be lost? And in a world teetering on the edge of ruin, can hope survive alongside love?

Warnings: zombie apocalypse, survival, blood, injuries/wounds, zombies, gore, descriptions of killing, let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 13k

The fluorescent lights of the abandoned hospital flickered, casting eerie shadows across the desolate corridors. Beomgyu moved through the hallways with practiced stealth, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a makeshift weapon gripped tightly in his hand. His breathing was shallow, each step careful to avoid the debris scattered across the cracked and bloodied tiled floor. The world had fallen into chaos, and this hospital, like so many other remnants of civilization, had become a graveyard—a silent monument to what once was.

Months of survival had stripped away Beomgyu’s optimism, leaving behind a man hardened by loss and desperation. His sharp eyes scanned every corner, his ears tuned to the faintest noise. He’d learned to live moment by moment, scavenging for supplies and avoiding the ravenous undead that now outnumbered the living. His mind was a steel trap, blocking out memories of his family and the life he’d once known. To dwell on the past was to invite death.

The hospital, eerily silent, held an unspoken threat. Every room was a gamble—empty or infested. Beomgyu moved with precision, his steps muted by his worn sneakers. The familiar weight of his crowbar brought him some semblance of comfort, though he knew it would only be useful against a few of the creatures at best. The undead didn’t tire, didn’t hesitate, and didn’t feel fear. A mistake here would cost him everything.

As he pushed open the door to the hospital’s pharmacy, the stench of decay hit him like a wall. Shelves were overturned, their contents long looted, leaving behind a wasteland of shattered glass and torn packaging. Beomgyu covered his nose with his sleeve, his stomach churning at the rancid smell. 

He crouched down, sifting through the debris. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, brushing aside broken vials and expired medications in search of anything useful. Just as he found a small stash of unopened bandages and a bottle of antibiotics tucked behind a counter, a faint sound stopped him in his tracks.

A cry of pain.

Beomgyu froze, his muscles tensing as adrenaline surged through his veins. The sound was faint, almost drowned out by the distant groans of the undead outside. His grip tightened on his crowbar as his eyes darted toward the door. He strained his ears, heart pounding, as the sound came again—a low, guttural moan mixed with the unmistakable note of human suffering. 

Against his better judgment, he stood and crept toward the source of the noise. The hospital was a maze, its once orderly layout now a chaotic ruin of overturned furniture and shattered glass. He kept his footsteps light, his weapon raised, as he followed the sound down a dimly lit hallway.

The noise led him to a room near the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, the flickering light casting distorted shadows across the floor. Beomgyu hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn back. He’d learned the hard way that curiosity in this world often led to death. But something about the sound tugged at him—a reminder of the humanity he’d buried deep within himself.

He pushed the door open slowly, his breath hitching as he stepped inside.

Y/N sat slumped against the wall of a makeshift shelter she’d crafted from hospital curtains and overturned furniture. Her arm throbbed with pain, the crude bandage she’d wrapped around her bite wound soaked through with blood and pus. She’d been hiding here for days, fighting off the infection with whatever scraps of medication she could find. But it was a losing battle.

Her body burned with fever, her vision swimming as she struggled to stay conscious. Her hands trembled as she clutched a piece of metal piping, the only weapon she had left. She’d heard the moans outside the room, the shuffle of feet, and now footsteps—steady and purposeful—approaching her hiding spot. Whoever it was, or whatever it was, they weren’t stopping.

The door creaked open, and Y/N’s grip on the pipe tightened. “Stay back!” she croaked, her voice hoarse from dehydration and disuse.

A man stepped into the room, his silhouette sharp against the flickering light. His eyes, dark and calculating, scanned the room before settling on her. He looked like he belonged in this world—worn clothes, a weapon at the ready, and a demeanor that screamed survival. But he wasn’t undead, and for that, Y/N felt a small flicker of relief, quickly drowned out by suspicion.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice low but steady. He took a cautious step forward, raising his free hand in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “Let me help.”

Y/N pressed herself harder against the wall, the effort sending a wave of pain through her injured arm. “I don’t need your help,” she hissed, her tone defiant despite the weakness in her body. “I’m fine.”

The man’s gaze flicked to the bandage on her arm, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You don’t look fine.”

“I said I can handle it!” she snapped, her voice cracking. But as she tried to raise the pipe higher, her strength gave out. The makeshift weapon clattered to the floor, and she slumped forward, barely catching herself before hitting the ground.

The man hesitated, his own instincts warring within him. He could walk away. Leave her to her fate. It wasn’t his problem—nothing in this world was anymore. But as he looked at her, pale and drenched in sweat, something inside him softened. Against his better judgment, he crouched down, keeping a safe distance.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice gentler now. “But if you don’t treat that wound, you won’t last much longer.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered with mistrust, but she was too weak to argue. After a long pause, she gave a small, reluctant nod, her head dipping forward in exhaustion. The man moved closer, his movements deliberate as he reached for her arm. He worked quickly, unwrapping the bandage to inspect the wound beneath.

His expression darkened at the sight of the bite mark. It was deep, the edges inflamed and oozing. He’d seen this before. He knew what it meant. But he didn’t say anything, his mind already racing for a way to help her.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he reached into his bag for supplies.

“Y/N,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “And you?”

“Beomgyu,” he replied, pulling out a small bottle of antiseptic. “This is going to hurt.”

Y/N let out a weak laugh, the sound hollow. “It already does.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, though it quickly faded as he focused on cleaning the wound. Y/N flinched, biting back a cry of pain as the antiseptic burned against her skin. Beomgyu worked quickly but carefully, his hands steady despite the chaos around them.

As he finished rewrapping the bandage, he sat back on his heels, meeting her gaze. “You’re lucky I found you,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “This place isn’t safe.”

“No place is,” Y/N replied, her voice stronger now but still tinged with exhaustion. “But thanks.”

Beomgyu nodded, rising to his feet. He offered her a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it. Her grip was weak, but there was a spark of determination in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Let’s get out of here,” Beomgyu said, his voice firm. “Together.”

For the first time in days, Y/N allowed herself to hope.

The hospital walls felt like they were closing in, the air thick with the stench of decay and despair. Beomgyu and Y/N moved cautiously through the hallways, their steps echoing in the oppressive silence. Beomgyu took the lead, his crowbar at the ready, while Y/N followed close behind, clutching her injured arm. The fever had sapped her strength, but she refused to slow them down.

They paused at a junction where the corridor split into two directions. Beomgyu held up a hand, signaling for Y/N to stop. He tilted his head, listening intently for any signs of danger. The distant groans of the undead were ever-present, a haunting reminder that they were never truly safe.

“This way,” Beomgyu whispered, pointing to the left. He glanced back at Y/N, noting the paleness of her face and the sheen of sweat on her brow. “Can you keep up?”

Y/N nodded, though her legs felt like lead. “I’ll manage.”

They pressed on, weaving through the debris-strewn corridors. Beomgyu’s eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings, his grip on the crowbar firm. Y/N couldn’t help but admire his focus and determination. He moved with the precision of someone who’d survived countless encounters with the undead, each step purposeful and calculated.

“How long have you been on your own?” Y/N asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Beomgyu glanced at her, his expression guarded. “Long enough,” he said simply. 

Y/N frowned but didn’t press further. She understood the need to keep certain things buried. In this world, memories were often more painful than comforting.

They reached a stairwell, the metal steps leading both up and down. Beomgyu hesitated, weighing their options. “The roof might give us a clear view of the area,” he said. “But it’s a risk. Zombies could be up there too.”

“And downstairs?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Could lead to an exit,” Beomgyu replied. “Or a dead end.”

Y/N leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “You decide. I’ll follow.”

Beomgyu studied her for a moment, then nodded. “We go up. If it’s clear, we can rest for a bit.”

They ascended the stairs, each step creaking under their weight. The tension was palpable, every sound amplified in the oppressive silence. Beomgyu reached the top first, pausing to listen before cautiously pushing open the door. The rooftop was empty, bathed in the pale light of the setting sun. 

“It’s clear,” he said, holding the door open for Y/N. She stepped out onto the roof, her breath hitching at the sight of the ruined city stretching out before them. Buildings stood in various states of collapse, their skeletal remains silhouetted against the fiery sky. Smoke rose in thin columns from scattered fires, and the distant moans of the undead carried on the wind.

Y/N sank to the ground, her back against the low wall surrounding the rooftop. Beomgyu joined her, setting his crowbar aside as he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a water bottle, handing it to her without a word.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a grateful sip. The water was lukewarm, but it was a welcome relief against the dryness in her throat.

Beomgyu leaned back, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “What were you doing in the hospital?” he asked after a long silence.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the water bottle. “I got separated from my group,” she said finally. “We were scavenging for supplies when we got ambushed by a horde. I ended up here, hoping to find something to help with this.” She gestured to her bandaged arm.

Beomgyu’s jaw tightened. “And the bite?”

“Happened during the ambush,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to keep it from spreading, but…” She trailed off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears but she quickly blinked them away. Her survival instinct had long since overtaken any remnants of vulnerability, but the reality of her situation was starting to sink in. 

Beomgyu watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached into his bag again and pulled out a small, battered notebook. It was clear from the wear that it had been used frequently, though its pages were mostly blank. He flipped it open to a page with a few hastily scribbled notes. 

“I’ve been on my own for a while too,” he said quietly, his fingers tracing the faded ink. “The first few days, it was just panic. Trying to find my family, trying to understand what happened. I’ve lost a lot since then.” His voice caught slightly, but he quickly masked it with a tight exhale. “But... there’s always this small part of me that keeps thinking if I just push a little harder, if I just survive a little longer, I’ll find something worth holding onto.”

Y/N turned her head toward him, the weight of his words sinking in. It was something she understood all too well—the constant pushing forward, driven by the hope of a future that didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“I know the feeling,” she murmured, taking another slow sip of water. “I keep telling myself that if I just survive, if I just make it through today, maybe tomorrow will be better. But... I don’t know if that’s ever going to happen.” Her gaze dropped to the bandaged wound on her arm. “Sometimes, it feels like it’s already over.”

There was a long silence as the city stretched out before them, silent except for the occasional moan of the undead and the distant sounds of fires crackling. Beomgyu remained still, deep in thought, but his mind was far from the immediate danger surrounding them. The words shared between them felt heavier than the building tension in the air. 

Y/N’s hand trembled slightly as she placed the empty water bottle on the ground beside her. “What if... we don’t make it out of here?” she asked, the question heavy with unspoken fear.

Beomgyu’s eyes softened as he turned to face her, the weight of the question sitting between them. “Then at least we’ll have each other’s backs until the end,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with a rare, unspoken promise. “Maybe that's enough.”

Y/N blinked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. In a world where trust was a luxury most couldn’t afford, the offer of even the smallest measure of support felt like an unexpected lifeline.

She nodded, though her throat tightened at the thought. They were both out here for different reasons, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Survival had become a shared goal. And for now, it was enough to know that they didn’t have to face it alone.

The sound of shuffling feet below broke their reverie, and both of them stood up in an instant, ready to face whatever new threat might appear. Beomgyu gripped his crowbar tightly, scanning the horizon for signs of movement. Y/N’s hand instinctively went to the pipe by her side, her muscles aching with the effort but her resolve unbroken.

“Get ready,” Beomgyu whispered, his voice calm but urgent. “We don’t know how many are out there, but we’ll need to move fast.”

Y/N nodded, pushing herself to her feet despite the dizziness threatening to overtake her. She didn’t have much strength left, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her. She wasn’t going to be the one to slow them down.

The two of them moved cautiously to the edge of the roof, watching as a small group of undead shuffled aimlessly through the street below. It wasn’t a horde, but they were numerous enough to pose a threat if they drew attention. Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed as he assessed their options. 

“We need to find another way down,” he muttered, scanning the area. “Too risky to go through them.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. “There’s a fire escape on the side of the building. It’s not ideal, but it’ll get us down without alerting them.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flicked over to her, his gaze calculating. “You sure?”

Y/N gave a small nod, though the tremor in her hands betrayed her uncertainty. “We don’t have much time. If we wait here too long, we’ll attract more.”

With a shared look, the decision was made. They both moved toward the edge of the roof, crouching low to avoid detection. As they reached the ledge, Beomgyu carefully lifted the fire escape ladder, testing its weight to ensure it would hold. Y/N hesitated for only a moment before climbing down after him, her injured arm flaring with pain but ignored in the rush of adrenaline.

The moment they reached the bottom of the ladder, the silence shattered as the first of the undead moaned loudly from above. It was a warning that they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“Let’s go,” Beomgyu hissed, motioning for Y/N to follow as he darted into the alley.

They sprinted through the dimly lit streets, their footsteps barely audible over the noise of distant shuffling. Every corner was a potential trap, every shadow could hide an enemy. The world had become a labyrinth of danger, and every step felt like a gamble.

Y/N felt the strain of exhaustion pulling at her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the sound of Beomgyu’s footsteps ahead. They moved as one, two survivors clinging to the hope that they could escape the nightmare that had consumed their world.

For now, that hope was enough.

The world was an endless expanse of decay, and every corner they turned seemed to offer only more ruin. The distant groans of the undead echoed through the streets, a constant reminder that nowhere was truly safe anymore. Beomgyu led the way, his footsteps light but determined as he navigated the crumbling cityscape. Y/N followed closely behind, her breath ragged, but her resolve unwavering.

They had been running for what felt like hours, weaving through alleyways and abandoned buildings, always listening for the telltale shuffle of approaching undead feet. The fire escape had provided a temporary reprieve, but they both knew it was only a matter of time before they ran into more danger. The constant pressure was like a weight on their chests, never allowing them to breathe easy.

But in these moments of relentless survival, small victories meant everything.

Y/N’s injured arm throbbed with each movement, and the fever burning inside her was becoming more unbearable with every passing minute. Her body was losing the fight to the infection, but she refused to acknowledge it. It wasn’t just her life at stake anymore. Beomgyu had become an unexpected companion in a world where trust was a dangerous luxury, and that bond—fragile as it was—meant survival.

She glanced at him as they paused for a moment in the shelter of an old, collapsed storefront. He was scanning the area, his eyes sharp despite the exhaustion lining his face. Beomgyu had been the one to keep them moving, always a step ahead, always focused. His ability to remain calm in the face of danger was something she envied. But there were cracks in his armor, moments where his steely exterior faltered. She’d seen it when he looked at her bandaged arm, and she’d caught the fleeting flash of regret in his eyes when he’d taken the water bottle from his bag and handed it to her without a word.

She knew he wasn’t invincible. Neither of them were.

“Do you think we’re getting any closer to a safe zone?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned against the remnants of a brick wall.

Beomgyu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow breath and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes distant as he stared down the alleyway ahead of them.

“It’s hard to say,” he finally said, his voice low. “The whole city’s been overrun. There’s no telling where you might find a safe place anymore. Most of the military zones have fallen, too. I heard a rumor once that a group of survivors managed to hold out at a high school on the other side of the city, but... that was months ago. Who knows what’s left?”

Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of the military zones. She’d heard the stories too—how the government forces had initially tried to contain the outbreak, but eventually, they’d been overwhelmed. There was no hope left in those places now, just memories of a world that once felt like it could be saved.

“We keep moving,” Beomgyu added after a long pause, shaking off the thought. “At least we’re alive for now. That’s enough.”

Y/N nodded, though the exhaustion gnawing at her body made it hard to keep her focus. Her head felt fuzzy, her vision wavering at the edges. The fever was beginning to cloud her thoughts, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she could no longer ignore the infection eating at her. She just needed to survive long enough to get somewhere safe... wherever that was.

"Let’s go," Beomgyu said, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. "We’ve still got a ways to go before we can find cover for the night."

With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself off the wall and followed him once more into the abandoned streets. They passed through another alleyway, the shadows growing deeper with each step. Every creak of a broken window, every distant thud sent her heart racing. The fear of being discovered was constant, gnawing at her every step.

Beomgyu led them through another series of alleys, his sharp gaze scanning the rooftops and windows as they moved. They came to another intersection, and he paused, raising his hand. His eyes flicked left and right, searching for movement.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice tense.

Y/N did as he instructed, staying just a few steps behind him, her hand tight around the metal pipe. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart wasn’t hammering in her chest. Every sound, every creak and groan felt like a threat, like the world was conspiring to tear them apart.

Beomgyu’s sharp eyes darted to the left, and his posture stiffened.

“They’re close,” he whispered, barely moving his lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward the sound. Through a broken window across the street, she could make out the silhouettes of a small group of the undead moving slowly, aimlessly, through the rubble-strewn street. They were close—too close.

Beomgyu gestured to the right, motioning for Y/N to follow him. They both slipped into a nearby doorway, their bodies pressed against the cold stone of the building. The undead were barely thirty feet away, unaware of their presence.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she held perfectly still. She could hear the rasping breath of one of the creatures, the groans as it shuffled aimlessly past them. It was like a nightmare, the way the monsters just wandered, unaware of the world around them. Every step felt like a ticking clock. It was only a matter of time before they noticed something amiss, and when they did...

Her mind raced. They couldn’t afford to be spotted. They couldn’t risk a fight with this many.

Beomgyu looked at her, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he raised his finger to his lips in a silent command for her to stay quiet. She nodded imperceptibly, then turned her attention back to the group of undead.

Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the creatures drifted past without so much as a glance in their direction. Beomgyu exhaled slowly, his posture relaxing just a fraction.

“Let’s move,” he whispered, stepping out of the doorway cautiously.

They continued, more cautiously now, slipping through the deserted streets. The sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long, skeletal shadows across the landscape. The air was thick with dust, and the distant hum of the undead was never far behind. Each step was a risk, but they didn’t have a choice. They had to keep moving.

After what felt like hours of walking, they came upon an abandoned store. Beomgyu motioned for Y/N to follow him inside. The shelves were bare, but the place offered shelter. A few broken windows let in the fading light, but it would do.

“We’ll stay here for the night,” Beomgyu said as he dropped his bag by a corner and began to scan the room for anything useful. “We need rest.”

Y/N nodded but didn’t sit down. Her legs felt like lead, and the pain in her arm had become a dull throb, but there was no time to rest. She needed to keep her guard up, needed to make sure they were safe before allowing herself the luxury of sleep.

Beomgyu noticed her hesitation and gave her a look. “You’re not fooling anyone. Sit down. I’ll keep watch.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. She was too tired, too weak to argue. With a small, resigned sigh, she slid down against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly, closing her eyes for just a moment. "For everything."

Beomgyu didn’t answer, but she could feel his gaze on her. His silence was enough.

The night was their only reprieve in a world that never stopped hunting.

The faint sounds of the world outside seemed to grow distant, as though the city itself was slipping into an eerie silence. For a moment, the only thing that remained was the sound of Beomgyu’s steady breathing and the soft rustle of Y/N’s clothes as she adjusted her position against the wall. Her body ached, and the fever burned like fire from within, but she forced herself to focus on the here and now. Her survival instinct was the only thing keeping her tethered to this crumbling world.

It felt strange, sitting in the stillness of the store. For so long, her days had been defined by constant motion—by the pursuit of food, shelter, safety—anything that could prolong her life just a little bit longer. Now, with nothing to do but wait, it was as though time itself had slowed. A dangerous kind of stillness, one that could only mean one thing: They weren’t safe, not truly, not yet. But exhaustion was creeping into her bones, and no matter how hard she tried to stay alert, her body betrayed her.

She glanced over at Beomgyu, who was seated at the far end of the room, his back against the wall as he surveyed the room with a look of quiet vigilance. His eyes flicked to every corner, every shadow, his focus razor-sharp despite the fatigue written all over him. His crowbar rested against the floor next to him, his fingers occasionally tapping the handle in a rhythmic, almost absent-minded way.

"How long do you think we'll stay here?" Y/N asked quietly, her voice hoarse from the strain of the day.

Beomgyu’s gaze shifted slightly to her, and for a moment, the hardness in his eyes softened. "We leave before morning," he replied, his voice low but resolute. "We can’t afford to stay in one place too long."

Y/N nodded, her eyes drifting to the cracked window that let in the last of the fading sunlight. Night was creeping in, and soon they would be submerged in complete darkness, with only the sounds of the undead to keep them company.

“I don’t want to keep you waiting,” she said, forcing herself to speak through the growing fog in her mind. "But I need a moment…"

Beomgyu didn’t respond at first. He just continued watching her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a slight nod, a rare gesture of understanding that made her heart skip. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to feel a quiet comfort settle over her.

She leaned her head back against the wall, letting her eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, too tired to keep them open. For the first time in what felt like days, she allowed herself the luxury of rest. Even so, her mind remained alert, always calculating, always prepared for the worst.

Minutes passed. Or was it hours? Time seemed irrelevant in a world like this. The shadows shifted, deepening as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only the pale light of a dying world. The noise outside was still there—faint moans in the distance, shuffling footsteps. But it was far off, at least for now. They were safe, at least for the moment.

Suddenly, the sound of shuffling footsteps broke her fleeting peace. Beomgyu was on his feet in an instant, his body tense, his hand gripping the crowbar with practiced ease. His eyes darted to the door, alert, listening.

Y/N’s pulse quickened. She rose to her feet with a grimace, pain shooting through her injured arm, but she held back a gasp. Every part of her wanted to rest, to ignore the world outside, but the reality of their situation couldn’t be ignored.

Beomgyu motioned for her to stay quiet as he moved toward the door, crouching low as he peered through the cracks in the old wooden panels. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, her breath shallow as she held her position. Her eyes searched the room, but all she could focus on was the sound—the unmistakable shuffle of undead, growing closer.

Minutes stretched out before Beomgyu slowly withdrew from the door, signaling for Y/N to remain still. His face was set, his jaw clenched. He looked back at her, his eyes sharp.

“They’re close,” he whispered. “We’re not alone in this building anymore.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. They hadn’t come all this way just to be cornered now. The shadows in the room felt heavier, and the stillness only made the threat more palpable.

"We can’t fight them here," Beomgyu continued, his voice low but firm. "We need to get out. Now."

His words jolted her into action. Y/N nodded quickly, pain flooding through her as she grabbed her weapon—the metal pipe—and moved toward the back exit with Beomgyu in tow. They had no time to waste.

But as they turned the corner to make their way to the back, a deafening crash echoed from the front of the store, followed by the unmistakable sound of low, guttural growls. The undead had found their way in.

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat. She could hear the scrabble of their feet against the floor, the sickening sounds of their teeth gnashing. She had to focus. They couldn’t let themselves be trapped again.

“Through here!” Beomgyu barked, pointing toward the back exit that led into a narrow alley. He didn’t wait for her to respond, already sprinting toward the door. Y/N followed, pushing through the pain in her arm, willing herself to keep up.

Just as Beomgyu reached the door, it suddenly crashed open, and the first of the undead spilled into the room.

“Go!” Beomgyu shouted, barely turning his head as he swung his crowbar, knocking the creature back into the pile of its companions.

Y/N sprinted toward the exit, ignoring the burning in her legs, the weight of her injury. She had to get out of there. The sounds of pursuit were getting louder—she could hear the shuffle of footsteps, the sickening moans, but there was no time to stop. She couldn’t afford to look back.

They spilled into the alley, the city streets stretching out before them, darkened by the encroaching night. Beomgyu kept a sharp eye on the surroundings as they ran, pushing her ahead of him, making sure she didn’t fall behind. She was struggling now, her strength slipping away, but she refused to stop. She couldn’t. Not when they were so close to escaping.

Behind them, the undead were closing in, the shuffle of their feet a constant reminder of how much danger they were still in. But the alley was narrow, and the buildings crowded together, creating shadows that could offer them a momentary reprieve.

Beomgyu’s voice broke through the pounding of her heart, sharp and urgent. “This way!” He turned sharply, heading toward a set of crumbling stairs that led to a rooftop access.

Y/N’s mind was barely keeping up as they ascended, her legs threatening to give out with each step. But the urgency in Beomgyu’s movements kept her going. She wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

As they reached the top, Beomgyu gestured toward a large metal door. “We can secure this—at least for a while,” he said, panting.

Y/N nodded, stumbling forward. She was barely able to focus, her vision blurring, but her determination remained unwavering. She just needed to rest. Just for a moment.

Beomgyu was already securing the door, blocking their only way out with whatever he could find. The noise of the undead grew faint, and for a fleeting moment, Y/N felt something close to safety again.

She collapsed onto the ground near the edge of the roof, finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been clawing at her for hours. The sky above them was dark, but the city below was alive with danger. Still, for a brief, precious moment, they had found a sliver of peace.

Beomgyu crouched down beside her, watching her carefully. His face was tense, but there was something softer in his eyes now.

“We’ll make it through this,” he said, his voice steady.

Y/N nodded, even as she felt the fever burn hotter in her veins. She didn’t know what the next day would bring—if they’d make it out of the city alive or if their fight would come to an end here.

But for now, she was alive. And that was all she could hold onto.

The cold night air was a harsh contrast to the feverish heat coursing through Y/N’s body. She could feel the sweat on her brow as the wind tousled her hair, and the sudden chill made her shiver despite her exhaustion. The rooftop offered them a temporary haven, but it also felt like a precarious perch—like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall could come at any moment.

Beomgyu paced back and forth, his figure silhouetted against the city’s dim skyline. His eyes scanned every movement in the shadows, every flicker of light that passed beneath their vantage point. The tension in his posture never eased, as if he was always expecting something to go wrong. Y/N could sense it too—the constant, gnawing anxiety that something worse could be lurking just around the corner.

She had to fight to stay awake. Her limbs felt heavy, like weights attached to her body, and the dizziness kept threatening to pull her under. Every breath was a struggle, each inhale sharp with the sting of pain. Her arm, the bite wound, was burning, feverish, the skin around it hot and swollen. She hadn’t been able to tell Beomgyu the truth about how far the infection had spread. He was trying to help her, but there was only so much he could do.

Beomgyu stopped pacing and crouched next to her, his eyes softening as he watched her struggle to stay upright.

"Hey," he said gently, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You need to rest. We’ll keep watch, but you have to take care of yourself. If that infection gets worse..." His words trailed off, but they didn’t need to be said. They both knew what would happen.

Y/N shook her head weakly. "I’m fine. I can keep going. We need to stay moving."

"Resting doesn't mean you're giving up," Beomgyu countered, his voice firm, yet there was something in it—something that spoke of a quiet understanding. "You can’t help anyone if you’re dead on your feet."

She met his gaze for a long moment. There was no argument in his eyes—only that steady, silent insistence that she take care of herself. She wanted to protest, to argue that they needed to move now while they still had the advantage of surprise, but the exhaustion was overwhelming. The fight drained out of her, leaving only the raw need for rest.

She nodded finally, leaning back against the cold stone of the rooftop wall. Beomgyu moved away, continuing to keep watch, but now at least Y/N felt the weight of the world ease, just a little. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the uncomfortable throbbing in her arm, the heat of the fever. She tried to focus on the sound of the wind, the distant groans of the undead below, but her mind kept wandering to places she didn’t want to go.

Her family. Her old life. She had to push it all away.

But it was impossible.

A sharp pain cut through her thoughts, and she winced, her breath catching in her throat. She had never felt so vulnerable—so alone.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the images, trying to force herself into a deep sleep. But it was no use.

The hours dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. The night was still, but the air was thick with the tension of uncertainty. Beomgyu was still vigilant, but his movements had slowed, and Y/N could tell the fatigue was starting to take its toll on him too. His eyes were darker, clouded with something deeper than just exhaustion—something she had come to recognize in survivors. It was the silent weight of everything they had lost, the things they had done, the choices they had made.

She could feel the change in him. He wasn’t just a man surviving; he was a man shaped by the world they were living in—a world that had stripped away everything but the will to survive. She could see it in the way he moved, the way he responded to every sound and shadow, like a hunter tracking his prey, even when there was nothing to hunt.

And it terrified her.

Still, the exhaustion dragged her down. Despite her best efforts to stay alert, to stay on guard, the world around her began to blur and fade.

Beomgyu didn’t look at her as she slipped into sleep—he knew better. There was no need to watch her, no need to ask her how she was. He knew what the infection meant. He had seen it before.

But he couldn't help it—he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. Y/N had been so strong, so defiant, and yet now, she was becoming quieter, slower. Each hour that passed seemed to drain her of more life, until she was barely a shadow of the woman he had met hours ago.

Still, he watched her for a long time, torn between the brutal truth and the desperate hope that somehow, she would pull through.

Y/N awoke to the feeling of something soft against her forehead. At first, she thought it was the wind. But as she stirred, she felt Beomgyu’s cool fingers brushing the sweat from her brow. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and for a moment, she wondered if this was all some kind of dream.

When she opened her eyes, he was crouched beside her, his expression unreadable.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

Her throat was dry, but she tried to swallow, her voice coming out cracked. “I’m... I’m alright.”

Beomgyu studied her for a moment, his eyes lingering on her bandaged arm. The wound had become worse in the few hours that they had been resting—she could tell by the way his jaw clenched when he glanced at it.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For slowing us down."

He shook his head quickly. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re not slowing us down. We’re in this together.”

There it was again—the unspoken bond between them. A strange, fragile connection formed not by words, but by necessity. In this new world, alliances weren’t born from trust. They were born from survival.

Beomgyu stood up, his posture still tense, but there was a softness in the way he looked at her—like he was trying to decide if it was time to say the things that needed to be said.

“I think it’s time to move,” he said, after a long pause. “We can’t stay here much longer. But we can’t head back the way we came either. There’s a secondary exit in this building. It leads out toward the outskirts of the city.”

Y/N nodded slowly, the fog of sleep still clouding her mind. "Alright."

She didn’t have the energy to argue, not with the exhaustion that weighed on her, not with the knowledge that there was no safe place anymore. The world had become a cruel game, where survival meant never resting, never letting your guard down.

She slowly pulled herself to her feet, Beomgyu offering his hand to help steady her. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she pushed through it.

They had no choice but to keep going.

The descent from the rooftop was swift but cautious. Every step they took brought them closer to the unknown, to whatever awaited them in the darkened streets below. As they navigated through the narrow alleys and abandoned streets, the sounds of the undead grew fainter, as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.

For the first time since they’d met, Y/N allowed herself to look at Beomgyu with a bit more clarity. Despite the harshness of the world, despite the bleakness that surrounded them, there was a steady resolve in his actions that made her believe, just for a moment, that there might be something worth fighting for. Something beyond the next meal or the next step.

They had each other.

And maybe that was enough.

The city stretched out before them like a labyrinth of destruction, a silent witness to the horrors of the world. Buildings loomed like skeletal remains, casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. The streets were littered with debris—shattered glass, abandoned vehicles, signs of life long gone. 

Beomgyu led the way, his movements sharp and deliberate, while Y/N stumbled slightly behind him. The fever had taken a heavier toll on her since they left the rooftop, her head spinning with each step. She felt like her body was betraying her—her legs were heavy, her mind clouded by exhaustion. She clenched her jaw, refusing to show weakness. She couldn’t afford to. 

They reached the back entrance of the hospital, a side door barely hanging on its hinges. Beomgyu motioned for Y/N to wait as he carefully nudged the door open, peering into the hallway beyond. It was dark, the dim glow from flickering emergency lights casting unsettling shadows on the walls. 

“Clear,” Beomgyu whispered, stepping inside. Y/N followed closely, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor. 

The air inside smelled stale, like death and decay. The walls were cracked and peeling, remnants of a once functioning hospital now reduced to a crumbling shell. The silence was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant moans of the undead somewhere outside, drifting through the broken windows.

They moved quickly, navigating through the building with practiced precision. Beomgyu’s eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, always alert. Y/N tried to focus, but the dizziness was overwhelming. She couldn’t ignore it anymore. Her body was starting to fail her.

After a few minutes of winding through empty halls, Beomgyu stopped at a door marked “Stairs.” He opened it cautiously, glancing up and down the stairwell. 

“Down,” he said. “We’ll get out through the basement.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. Her mind felt heavy, and the faint ringing in her ears made it difficult to concentrate. She wanted to protest, wanted to suggest another route, but she knew better. There was no time to argue. She pushed forward, forcing her legs to move, each step feeling like a mountain to climb.

Beomgyu led them down the stairs quickly but quietly. The basement was supposed to be an exit, but it was also a place of danger. The shadows here were darker, the air thick with dust and dampness. The faint glow from Beomgyu’s flashlight barely illuminated the path ahead, casting eerie shapes across the walls.

Y/N’s breath quickened as they reached the bottom. The walls here were lined with storage shelves, some toppled over, others empty. The floor was scattered with broken crates and debris, remnants of the hospital’s past.

“We need to move fast,” Beomgyu whispered. “There’s a service tunnel just ahead.”

They made their way deeper into the basement, the space growing colder with each step. Y/N’s mind was becoming foggier, her body losing its grip on reality. She could barely keep her feet beneath her, her vision swimming in and out of focus. The wound on her arm throbbed, sending waves of heat through her body.

“Beomgyu...” she said faintly, her voice barely audible.

He stopped, turning to face her. His expression was tense, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I... I don’t feel so good,” she muttered, her voice slurring slightly. “I can’t... I can’t keep up.”

Beomgyu’s heart sank as he saw the distress in her eyes. Her condition was worsening, faster than he had anticipated. She had been so strong before, so determined. But now, she looked like she might collapse at any moment.

He moved toward her, his face softening as he reached for her arm. “Hey, we’re almost there,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone. Just a little further.”

Y/N shook her head weakly. “I don’t know if I can make it.”

“You’re going to make it,” Beomgyu insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He couldn’t lose her—not now, not after everything they had been through. “We’ll make it out together. I won’t leave you.”

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. She could see the resolve in his face, but she couldn’t help the doubt creeping into her own heart. She was tired—so tired—and the infection was spreading faster than she had expected. Her vision blurred again, and her knees buckled beneath her.

Beomgyu caught her before she hit the ground, his grip tight as he lifted her up. His heart was racing now, his mind spinning with the possibilities. He knew the risks, knew the chances of survival were slim if they didn’t move quickly. But he couldn’t let her go—not like this.

“Come on,” he urged, his voice a soft command. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Y/N’s head lolled against his chest as he supported her weight. She was barely conscious, her breath shallow, and he could feel the heat radiating from her body. The infection had taken hold, and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. He could only keep moving.

They reached the service tunnel after what felt like an eternity, and Beomgyu pushed open the heavy metal door using his body with a grunt. The tunnel was narrow and damp, the air heavy with the smell of mildew and decay. It stretched into darkness, an unknown path toward freedom—or death.

“We’re almost there,” Beomgyu said again, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or himself. 

He moved quickly through the tunnel, his footsteps echoing against the concrete walls. Y/N’s breath was growing more labored, and he could feel her body growing heavier in his arms. The tunnel felt endless, the air oppressive, as though the walls themselves were closing in on them.

Suddenly, a noise from ahead made Beomgyu stop dead in his tracks. His grip tightened around Y/N  as he slowly turned to face the darkness ahead. The distant shuffle of feet reached his ears, the unmistakable sound of the undead closing in on them.

Beomgyu’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure how many of them there were, but there was no time to waste. He had to keep moving.

"Y/N, stay with me!" he shouted, his voice fierce.

But there was no response. When he looked at her, Y/N was barely conscious, her head hanging limply from his shoulder. Her body was growing cold, her breathing shallow and uneven. Beomgyu’s blood ran cold as he realized just how close they were to the brink.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice desperate. “Not now. Not like this.”

He scanned the tunnel ahead, his mind racing for a plan. He couldn’t fight them all. There was no way they would survive another encounter with the undead in their current state. But he had to get her out—he had to keep moving.

Without another thought, Beomgyu began to run, his legs burning with the effort. He moved through the tunnel as fast as he could, the sound of the undead growing louder with each passing second. They were closing in.

Finally, the tunnel opened up into a small utility room, its door cracked open just enough to slip through. Beomgyu wasted no time, pushing the door open and stumbling into the room. He found himself in a dimly lit alleyway, the city streets stretched out before them. 

But even as he stepped into the open air, he could hear the shuffling footsteps behind them, drawing closer. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep running.

Beomgyu’s heart thudded in his chest, each beat a relentless reminder of how close they were to the edge. His breath came in short, frantic gasps as he pulled Y/N further into the alley, her limp body weighing heavily in his arms. He glanced back, the sound of shuffling feet growing louder, the unmistakable groans of the undead inching closer. 

“Come on, come on,” Beomgyu muttered under his breath, willing his legs to move faster, to outrun the nightmare closing in on them. The alley was narrow, the walls of crumbling buildings on either side a silent witness to the chaos that had consumed the world. There was no time to lose.

His gaze darted around desperately, looking for an exit, a safe place to hide. But all he saw were empty streets, abandoned cars, and the dark silhouette of a world that had already fallen apart. There was no refuge here, only the looming threat of death.

“Just a little further,” he said softly to Y/N, even though he wasn’t sure she could hear him anymore. Her head lolled against his chest, her breaths shallow, each exhale a painful rasp, and her body was growing colder by the second. He had to get her out of this, he had to find a way to keep her alive.

He pushed forward, but the sound of the undead grew louder, too close, too close. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with a rusted dumpster, his instincts kicking in as he ducked behind it, pressing Y/N’s limp form against the cold metal. 

The distant groans of the undead were now close enough that Beomgyu could almost feel them, their presence suffocating. His grip tightened on the crowbar in his hand, and his mind raced. There were too many of them, and he was too exposed. The only choice now was to wait, to hope they wouldn’t notice them. 

Beomgyu’s heart pounded as he tried to steady his breath, every muscle in his body tense with fear. His eyes scanned the street, flicking from shadow to shadow, searching for any movement, any sign of danger. He couldn’t let them find them here. He couldn’t let them find Y/N.

Time stretched out like an eternity, the tension unbearable. Beomgyu could feel the weight of the world pressing down on him, the weight of survival, of responsibility, of the life in his arms that was slipping away.

The shuffling grew louder. The undead were almost upon them. Beomgyu’s pulse thundered in his ears, his grip on Y/N tightening as he readied himself for a fight that he knew he might not survive. He wasn’t about to let her die here, not after everything they had gone through. 

“Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with desperation. “Please. Stay with me.”

But there was no response. She was barely conscious now, her body trembling in his arms as if it were fighting against the infection that had taken root in her. The infection had taken her voice, taken her strength. She was barely holding on.

Beomgyu’s breath hitched as a low groan echoed from around the corner. He stiffened, his grip on the crowbar tightening as he listened. His heart skipped a beat when the shuffling sound came closer, the unmistakable moans of the undead growing louder.

He could hear them now, the scratch of their rotting feet on the pavement, the clicking of their jaws as they searched for prey. They were here. 

A figure appeared in the distance, its ragged, decaying form barely visible under the dim streetlights. Beomgyu’s stomach turned as he saw more figures behind it, their grotesque forms stumbling forward, aimless and hungry. He could count at least five of them, maybe more.

He had no choice. He couldn’t stay hidden forever. 

Beomgyu moved, crouching low to the ground as he slid his arm around Y/N’s waist. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking. His mind was a blur of instincts and adrenaline as he darted out from behind the dumpster, moving toward the nearest building. The undead weren’t close enough yet to notice them, but the moment they did, it would be over.

The alley was a dead end. But the building ahead of them had a door—half open, a glimmer of hope. Beomgyu’s breath came fast and ragged as he sprinted toward it, his legs burning with the effort. He reached the door and kicked it open with a force that echoed in the silent night.

Inside, the building was dark, its windows boarded up and the air heavy with dust and decay. The sound of the undead was still there, close, but muffled now. Beomgyu didn’t hesitate. He pulled Y/N inside with him, slamming the door shut behind them. 

For a moment, they stood there in the darkness, the only sound the frantic pounding of Beomgyu’s heart and the ragged breathing of both him and Y/N.

Beomgyu pressed his back against the door, his breath shaky. He couldn’t hear the undead anymore, but that didn’t mean they were safe. They had to keep moving. 

Y/N’s weight sagged in his arms as she slipped into unconsciousness. Beomgyu’s heart dropped. She couldn’t survive much longer without proper care. He had to do something, anything to help her. But what?

He looked around the dark room, his eyes scanning for anything that could be of use. The space was abandoned, nothing but old furniture, broken shelves, and discarded items. But his eyes landed on something—a faint glow from the far corner of the room. 

A small, flickering light illuminated the corner of the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Beomgyu moved cautiously toward it, his body tense. As he got closer, he saw a makeshift camp set up in the corner. It looked like someone had been living here—an old cot, a few scattered supplies, and a small lantern.

Beomgyu’s mind raced. Whoever had been here wasn’t around anymore. But they’d left behind supplies. His fingers trembled as he rifled through the abandoned camp. There were medical supplies—bandages, antiseptic, a few vials of antibiotics. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

He grabbed what he could carry and hurried back to Y/N, who was barely breathing now. Her fever had spiked, yet her skin was cold to the touch. Her once fiery spirit seemed to have drained from her body.

Beomgyu quickly set to work, cleaning the wound on her arm and applying the antiseptic he had found. Her body jerked slightly as the alcohol stung, but she didn’t wake. He wrapped her arm as best he could, doing everything in his power to fight the infection. But even he knew this might not be enough. He could only hope it was.

As he finished, Beomgyu sat back on the floor, cradling her head in his lap. He brushed a damp lock of hair from her face, his thumb gently stroking her cold skin. His chest ached with the weight of everything he couldn’t fix. 

The moonlight shone through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting an eerie glow across the room. Outside, the world was falling apart, and inside, Beomgyu held onto Y/N with everything he had. The fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot. They had no way of knowing what the future held.

But in that moment, as he stared down at her pale face, he realized one thing.

No matter what happened, he wouldn’t let her die alone.

Y/N’s condition deteriorated rapidly. The night had been long, and the silence in the abandoned building had been oppressive, broken only by her occasional, shallow breaths. Beomgyu sat beside her, his eyes never leaving her fragile form as she lay on the cot he had managed to make for her from scraps of cloth and discarded furniture. He had done everything he could to help her—the wound was cleaned and bandaged, and he had given her water when she could take it. But it wasn’t enough. The infection had taken root, and it was spreading like wildfire.

By dawn, her breathing had become ragged, her body trembling uncontrollably. Beomgyu sat up straighter, the rising panic in his chest threatening to swallow him whole. He’d seen this before. He’d watched people he cared about slip away, their bodies ravaged by the same virus that was now threatening to claim Y/N. The fever was high, and her skin had taken on an unnatural pallor. It wouldn’t be long now.

But then, something changed.

Y/N’s eyes shot open wide, her body jerking as a scream tore from her throat. It was guttural, animalistic, and filled with pain. Beomgyu lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders to steady her, his heart hammering in his chest. Her eyes were wide, dilated, filled with terror as she fought against the convulsions overtaking her body.

“Y/N!” Beomgyu shouted, his voice frantic. “Y/N, look at me! Stay with me!”

But she couldn’t hear him. She was caught in the grip of the infection, her body twitching and convulsing as if the virus was trying to tear her apart from the inside. Beomgyu held her down, trying to keep her still, but she was too strong, too wild. He could see the change happening in her eyes—a blank, hollow look that he knew too well.

“Please… Y/N, fight it!” he begged, his voice breaking. His own heart shattered as he watched her struggle, his mind racing for any solution. Anything that could help her.

It was then that the memories came flooding back. The rumors he had heard, whispered in the darkest corners of the city—talk of a lab, a research facility, where scientists had been working on a cure for the infection before everything collapsed. The lab was a long shot, but it was the only hope left.

Beomgyu gritted his teeth, his determination flaring as he glanced around the room. Y/N was fading before his eyes, and there was nothing left to do but find that lab. He had to go. He had to try.

“I’ll be back,” Beomgyu said, his voice steady despite the rising panic. He pressed his forehead against Y/N’s for a brief moment, feeling the heat of her fever against his skin. “Stay here. I’ll find something to help you.”

Her hand reached up, weak but insistent, grabbing his wrist. Her fingers were trembling, but there was still strength in her grip. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with pain and desperation, but she managed a whisper.

“Beomgyu…” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, but the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “If I don’t make it… thank you. For everything.”

Beomgyu’s throat tightened, and he blinked back the surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “You’re going to make it,” he said firmly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I won’t let you go. I swear it.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away, his heart breaking with each step as he moved toward the door. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. There was a chance—a slim one—but it was all he had.

The world outside was a shadow of its former self. The once-thriving city had become a decaying husk, swallowed by the chaos of the apocalypse. Beomgyu stepped through the remnants of what was once a bustling metropolis, moving with purpose despite the growing panic gnawing at him. His only focus was Y/N—her life slipping away, and the antidote that might save her, locked away in the ruins of a laboratory somewhere in the city.

The path ahead was fraught with danger, but there was no choice but to push forward. The air was thick with the putrid stench of decay, mingled with the faint scent of burning rubble that lingered in the aftermath of past fires. The streets, once filled with the laughter and chatter of the city’s inhabitants, were now eerily silent—save for the distant groans and guttural growls of the infected.

Beomgyu gripped the crowbar tighter, the weight of it both comforting and heavy. He knew the stakes all too well. Every step he took could be his last. And yet, he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when Y/N’s life hung in the balance.

The rumors he had heard were all that kept him going. Whispers of a research lab, hidden in plain sight within the city, where scientists had been working on a cure for the infection before the world had crumbled. It was said to be somewhere near the heart of the city, though no one knew if it still existed. The collapse of the government, the destruction of institutions, and the rise of the undead had made finding such a place a near-impossible task. But Beomgyu had to try.

His thoughts flickered back to the moment when he had left her. Her grip on his wrist, her voice weak but filled with gratitude, still echoed in his mind. She had been so certain, so willing to accept her fate if it came to that. But Beomgyu couldn’t accept that. Not when there was a chance, however slim, that he could save her.

He couldn’t afford to fail.

The road was treacherous, but Beomgyu moved swiftly, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was used to danger, used to fighting for his life, but today felt different. Every shadow felt like a threat, every noise felt like an omen. He had to keep his wits about him, and yet, the thought of returning to Y/N empty-handed was almost too much to bear.

As Beomgyu rounded a corner, his eyes caught sight of a group of zombies stumbling aimlessly through the street ahead. Their clothes were torn, their bodies decaying, but the hunger in their eyes was unmistakable. His stomach clenched in dread. 

Without hesitation, Beomgyu ducked behind a nearby car, holding his breath as the zombies shuffled past. The tension in his body was unbearable, but he kept himself still, waiting for the group to pass by. His grip tightened on the crowbar, his body poised to strike if any of them ventured too close.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. Finally, the zombies continued on their path, oblivious to Beomgyu’s presence. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, but there was no time to waste. The lab was still a long way off.

He slipped from his hiding place, moving quickly but quietly, the weight of his mission pushing him forward. 

The cityscape grew more desolate with every step he took. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, some overturned, others left in disarray as if the occupants had fled in haste. The destruction of the city wasn’t just physical—it was a visual representation of the collapse of society, the sudden loss of everything that had once been normal. People had abandoned their homes, their lives, in search of safety, only to find that no place was truly safe anymore.

Beomgyu glanced around, his eyes scanning the surrounding buildings. There was a slight flicker of movement ahead. He froze, holding his breath as he pressed himself against the side of a nearby building. Another zombie. Or perhaps more. He couldn’t tell yet.

His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle tensed, ready to react. The sound of footsteps, slow and unsteady, drew nearer. Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the area. The buildings on either side of him were empty, their windows shattered or boarded up. The street was an obstacle course of debris, but he couldn’t afford to be caught in the open. 

The zombie shuffled closer, its broken and bloodied body dragging itself across the street. Beomgyu gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the crowbar. One wrong move, and he would be the next target. 

The moment the zombie was almost within arm’s reach, Beomgyu sprang into action. With a swift motion, he swung the crowbar and slammed it into the side of the zombie’s skull. The creature collapsed instantly, its body crumpling to the ground in a heap of flesh and bone. 

But there was no time to rest. Beomgyu didn’t wait for the body to hit the ground before moving on. He could hear more of them now—more groaning, more shuffling, more approaching footsteps. They were getting closer. He had to move faster. 

The journey felt endless. Every step forward felt like a mile. Beomgyu pushed through the wreckage of the city, his mind fixated on one goal: reaching the lab. The streets became more desolate, more dangerous as the days of chaos stretched into weeks, then months. The abandoned buildings were nothing but hollow shells now, echoes of a time long past.

As he neared the center of the city, Beomgyu found himself in an unfamiliar neighborhood, the streets narrower, the buildings taller. He could see it now: a high-rise building in the distance, its once-pristine surface now cracked and scarred from years of neglect. This had to be it. The lab had to be inside.

But as Beomgyu approached the entrance, he saw something that froze his blood in his veins. A group of zombies stood near the building’s entrance, their numbers greater than he had anticipated. It wasn’t just one or two. There were at least ten. Maybe more. And they were all clustered together, making any attempt to slip past them nearly impossible.

Beomgyu’s eyes darted around the street, looking for an alternative route. But there were no alleys, no side streets. The only option was to face them head-on.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his jacket tighter around him and moved forward. He could feel the sweat gathering at the back of his neck, the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. His pulse raced, but he didn’t let himself falter. There was no choice. He had to fight.

With a low growl, he stepped into the open, brandishing the crowbar. The zombies turned toward him, their eyes blank and hungry, their groans filling the air. Beomgyu’s heart thundered in his chest as he charged forward, swinging the crowbar with all his strength. One after another, the zombies fell. His body moved on instinct, each blow a desperate attempt to clear his way to the building.

But there were too many. No matter how fast he moved, how hard he swung, they kept coming. And with every zombie he took down, it seemed like two more appeared in its place. Beomgyu’s muscles screamed in protest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His vision blurred with exhaustion, but he couldn’t stop. Not now.

The end of the fight seemed like it would never come. His crowbar was slick with blood, his arms heavy from the constant strain. But he fought on, knowing that Y/N was depending on him. He had to finish this.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last zombie crumpled to the ground. Beomgyu stood panting, his body covered in sweat and blood, but he had done it. The entrance to the lab was clear.

The interior of the lab was a wreck. The once-sterile environment had been ransacked, the shelves now bare and the equipment broken or missing. But Beomgyu didn’t care about any of that. His eyes were fixed on the lab’s central table, where a collection of vials and syringes lay, scattered amongst piles of notes and research papers. 

His heart skipped a beat as he scanned the table. Among the chaos, he found it: a single vial of what appeared to be an experimental antidote. The label was faded, the text smudged, but it didn’t matter. This was it. 

His hands were trembling as he grabbed the vial, but he didn’t hesitate. He shoved it into his bag and turned to leave, his mind already racing ahead to Y/N. She was waiting for him. He couldn’t afford to waste a second more.

The return journey was a blur. His body was battered, his energy spent, but his mind was laser-focused. Nothing would stop him now. Y/N was waiting. And he would be damned if he let her slip away.

Beomgyu smiled faintly, his eyes full of determination. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

And with the antidote in his possession, they still had a chance.

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a sickly, orange glow over the ruins of the city. The days and nights had blurred together, a cycle of death and survival, where every second felt like an eternity. Beomgyu was exhausted—his body bruised and battered from the constant battles with the undead. He had been running on sheer willpower, driven by one singular thought: Y/N. 

His heart pounded as he trudged back through the desolate streets, the vial of antidote clenched tightly in his hand. It was a long shot, an act of desperation. But it was all they had. She was running out of time. 

The building was eerily quiet as he pushed the door open, wincing at the creaking sound. The last thing he wanted was to attract any unwanted attention. His eyes scanned the dark interior, and there she was. Y/N. Still lying motionless on the cot. 

His stomach twisted in dread. 

He rushed to her side, his footsteps light but frantic, and knelt beside her. Her skin was colder than before, her breathing shallow, and the sight of her frail, trembling form nearly shattered his resolve. Her once-strong presence was now nothing more than a shadow of herself. 

He wasted no time, grabbing a syringe and filling it up with the antidote. There wasn’t much in the vial, but he made sure that not a single drop was wasted. With a deep breath, he injected the antidote straight into Y/N’s bitten arm. All he could do now was wait and hope, as he stared down at her pale and weak frame.

"Y/N..." he whispered her name, his voice cracking with emotion.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but her eyes were unfocused, glazed over in a way that sent a chill down his spine. 

"Beomgyu…" Her voice was so weak it barely reached his ears, but there was a familiarity to it—a comfort, despite the rawness and the pain behind it. "I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

Beomgyu’s throat tightened at the words. He could see the fear in her eyes, the fear that was mirrored in his own heart. How many times had he seen this happen? How many people had he watched slip away, their bodies ravaged by this curse of an infection? Y/N was different. She wasn’t just anyone. She was everything.

"No." His voice was firm as he leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead. "I won’t let you go. Not like this."

Her hand weakly grasped his, and her fingers trembled against his skin. She tried to sit up, but the effort was too much, and she slumped back, gasping for air.

"I never wanted this for you," she whispered, the words jagged as if every breath was a struggle. "You’ve done so much for me already. You’ve been through so much. If I—"

“Stop,” Beomgyu interrupted, squeezing her hand tighter. “You don’t get to say that. Don’t ever think you’re a burden to me. I promised I’d protect you. And I will keep that promise, no matter what."

Her lips trembled, and she closed her eyes, a faint, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I know you would. But I don’t want you to lose yourself over me. We’re running out of time… the world’s already taken too much."

Tears welled up in Beomgyu’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not now. Not when she needed him to stay strong. He had to. For her.

“No,” he said again, his voice fierce with determination. “I won’t lose you. We still have a chance.”

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered, and her grip on his hand weakened. He could feel the temperature of her skin rise and fall in a sickening pattern. The antidote wasn’t working fast enough. He cursed under his breath, desperation overtaking him. He had to do something. He had to fix this. He had to—

Suddenly, Y/N’s eyes snapped open, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that sent a shock through his entire body.

“Beomgyu,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but urgent. “The antidote… it might not work. The infection—it's too advanced. It could… it could make things worse. You have to let me go.”

Her words pierced through him like a blade, but he refused to accept them. She couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t let her be serious.

“No,” he repeated, his voice tight with emotion. “You’re not going anywhere. Not on my watch.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his face, trying to read him. There was a long, tense pause between them, both of them knowing what had to be done and yet unwilling to face it.

Beomgyu pressed his forehead to hers, his breath shaky as he whispered into the silence that followed. “I’m not losing you. I won’t ever lose you.”

For a moment, Y/N simply lay there, her body still trembling. Then, as if making up her mind, she lifted her hand to his face, her fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek. Her touch was soft, fragile, like a whisper of a dream that threatened to slip away at any moment.

“Beomgyu,” she said again, her voice barely audible now. “If… if we don’t make it through this… promise me you’ll keep fighting. Keep fighting for the people who are still left.”

His heart clenched painfully at her words. She wasn’t giving up, not really. She was asking him to be strong, to carry on, even if she couldn’t. He didn’t know how he would go on without her. But he had to. For her. For both of them.

“I promise,” he said, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “I’ll fight. And I’ll never stop loving you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the faintest spark of relief seemed to flicker across her face. She closed her eyes, her breath evening out, and Beomgyu held his breath as he waited for the antidote to work its magic.

Minutes passed like hours.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, her body began to relax. Her hands, which had been trembling so violently, went still in his. Her chest rose and fell in a more rhythmic pattern. The faint sheen of sweat on her skin began to fade. Beomgyu couldn’t believe it. He dared not move, afraid that if he did, the fragile miracle that was unfolding before him would slip away.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead, his tears finally falling.

“I’m here. Always.”

The sun had risen again, and the world outside remained broken, a ghost of its former self. But inside the small room where Beomgyu sat, holding Y/N’s hand, there was a quiet peace. A tenuous sense of hope that neither of them had dared to dream of until now.

Y/N was awake, though still weak, her breathing steady. The antidote had worked—at least for now. She wasn’t fully recovered, but she was alive. And that was enough. It was everything.

Beomgyu had stayed by her side for hours, watching over her like a hawk. He wasn’t about to let her slip away again. Not after everything they had been through together.

Her eyes fluttered open once more, and she looked at him with a quiet smile on her lips. It wasn’t the radiant, full smile that had once been so familiar to him. But it was something. It was enough.

“You’re still here,” she said softly, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

Beomgyu chuckled, his heart light despite the chaos surrounding them. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to kick me out if you want any peace and quiet.”

She laughed weakly, the sound soft and fragile, but it warmed him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“I think I can handle your company,” she teased, though the fatigue was evident in her voice. “But I’m serious. Thank you. For everything. You saved my life.”

Beomgyu shook his head, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “No. You’re the one who saved me. Every day, you keep me going. Even when everything seems lost.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached up, cupping his face with her palm. “I love you, Beomgyu. Always.”

And in that moment, in the midst of a ruined world, surrounded by death and uncertainty, Beomgyu realized that the promise of love was enough. It was the one thing that would keep them fighting.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

They sat in silence, holding each other close, finding comfort in the warmth of the other. The world outside may have been broken, but together, they had found a way to survive. 

And that was all that mattered.

As long as they had each other, they would keep fighting.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: That wraps up my first ever fic!! I never thought I would write my own stories, I was always just a lurker in the shadows, reading fics 24/7, and here I am now, sharing my first fic with you guys. English is also not my first language and this might not immediately be the best fic ever but I still had fun writing it and I hope you guys have the same amount of fun reading it too.

I was very much inspired by raya or @dawngyu so make sure to check them out too. I would love to here your thoughts and opinions after reading this so don't be afraid to comment or reblog!!

Taglist: @dawngyu @frankghgr @yunverie @usuallyunlikelyfox @woncheecks @yogurttea @beomsdoll @lonelylandofan @binluvsu @ahniboom @virtaideen @blossommi @whatblop @hhoneyhan @papichulomacy

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

What did Tori include in that letter, you ask?

[minsheart]

FOREHEAD KISSES WITH HYUNJIN

pairings: boyfriend!hyunjin x reader genre: mostly fluff word count: 303 cw: mentions of sex, slightly suggestive a/n: wrote this in 2h trying to get rid of my small writing blog for the upcoming fic and i feel like it's bad idk didn't proofread

hyunjin's forehead kisses are warm, gentle and tender. sometimes, you can't help but wonder if he actually is an angel who descended from heaven. his kisses feel like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter night, giving you a sense of comfort and happiness.

forehead kisses are hyunjin's favorite way of physically showing his affection to you — he'll do it at any given time. when you feel down and he wants to reassure you, when he finds you asleep in your shared bedroom, when the two of you are cuddling while watching a movie on the couch, after he comes back home from a concert, during aftercare, that almost makes you forget how hard he was pounding you into the mattress — anywhere, anytime. if he feels like kissing you, he'll do it without sparing a thought.

and don't you dare think hyunjin will be more secretive when around others. if anything, it makes him more inclined to kiss you all over the place. and if he's jealous, well… you'll be received with cute little kisses with an underlying intention of letting everyone know you're his and only — an innocent smile while his hand slides down to grope your ass. in the end, he only says he does that just because he loves you a lot. you sigh. how can you not love this man?

on the other hand, hyunjin's a total sucker for your forehead kisses. just placing your lips on his skin is enough to get him to melt all over the place. and when you insist on kissing him with your lipstick on? oh boy, he gets all giddy and will ask you to kiss him over and over, not only on his forehead — but on his entire face.

hyunjin really is the epitome of sweetness in this world.

© minsheart, 2024

[buyoump3]

(— THE WATER LAPS AT HIS ANKLES AND IT IS SO TERRIBLY COLD.)

for @pendraegon (x)

[evadneares]

Tory Adkisson, "Anecdote of the Pig"

[theweepingwriter]

Solitaire, by Alice Oseman

“Are you drunk?”

“I’m a poet.”

[emloafs]

Idk to me this looks like a promo photo or a poster for a sitcom about a group of friends in their 20s

[gt-daboss]

Helpful Giant x Spiteful Tinies

This was a fun one to draw :) There's something funny about a giant going out of their way to help only to be met with a (tiny) middle finger despite their efforts, I'd cry ;-;

ALSO... part of why this was so much fun to draw was cuz of the characters, specifically, @tinycoded360's characters, it was really a joy to draw them, especially Tori (the giant) and Mavri (the one sticking it to said giant lol)

[miriadalia]

How it feels to ship an unpopular or non-canon couple in Tumblr vs other media:

Please, Tumblr users don't make me regret posting this :')

[stuffforme2]

I don't think I really hate anyone more than I hate myself. I see others do stupid shit and can't help but judge and question why they would do all that hurtful shit for like no reason, and then I find out that it's normal. It's normal for everyone to do hurtful shit without question, and I'm the weirdo who actually thinks about the hurtful shit i do. I'm left constantly thinking about it, and that makes me hate myself. I'd like to never hurt anyone, but I know that's impossible, so one day, I want to be like everyone else and do hurtful shit and never think about it. Is that selfish? Right. Another reason why I hate myself is because I think selfishly but very rarely act selfishly. It's odd. Why aren't I normal? Let me be hurtful and selfish like everyone else.

[cxtori]

Osamu Dazai ✮ Reckless (Fluff Version)

summary: you vent your frustrations to Dazai after the crazy stunt he pulled with Fyodor

genre: fluff, cleaning up Dazai's wounds

wc:820

warnings: n/a, slight Dead Apple spoilers

tori’s note: this is the same concept as the other one, just more lighthearted! Here's the angsty version if you missed it!

You frown as you examine the deep wound on Dazai’s back, the cut surrounded by red, swollen flesh. You groan internally as you reach for a cotton pad and soak it with antiseptic. Without warning, you press it against the man’s back.

“Owwie! That hurts, Y/n!” Dazai cries overdramatically, any pain in his voice covered by his teasing tone. Your face scrunches in annoyance, knowing he’s felt a lot worse pain than you cleaning a small cut. You glance over at the stab wound by his spine, a few stitches keeping the flesh bound together.

“Shut up! I’m still mad at you,” you huff, not showing the slightest bit of amusement. This seems to keep him quiet as he doesn’t make another sound as you continue to clean, aside from a muffled laugh.

You finish disinfecting the wound and move on to apply some antibiotic before placing a bandage over it all. 

You were pretty pissed off with him. His disappearing on you, working with an enemy, getting himself stabbed with a poison coated blade, and so on. 

You were used to his shenanigans. Afterall, it wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared for a couple days or so. It was so normal for him that the rest of the agency never bothered to question it.

You, however, were always concerned. You figured the least he could have given you was a heads up, though you know he wouldn’t have even if you’d asked.

You hated how he felt the need to do things on his own. You understood that his plan may have not gone so smoothly had others been made aware. But still. Did he really have to throw himself into such dangerous situations just to get the upper hand? Wouldn’t you be able to help him with something? 

Once done with his back, you move around to his front, forcing your eyes to not roll when you see the various scrapes and cuts scattered all over his body. 

“You are such an idiot, you know. Why do you have to be so careless?” You say quietly, more to yourself than to him. You ignore Dazai’s soft chuckle as you grab the antiseptic and another cotton pad.

Dazai watches you thoughtfully as you swipe the pad over the minor abrasions littering his skin, your face twisted in focus… or maybe it’s anger. Either way, he couldn’t pull his dark eyes away from you.

“I cannot believe you pulled that crazy stunt!” You say, your voice taking on the tone of a mother scolding her child. But you didn’t care. You were upset and you wanted him to know. “I was so worried when you disappeared! Don’t even get me started on how concerned Atsushi was. And then you just show up standing by Fyodor’s side?” 

Your gentle swiping devolves into more of a harsh rubbing as you continue to clean his cuts, but Dazai remains still, his attention focused more on your ranting than the stinging of his wounds. 

“You could have died! Had that dagger hit just an inch or two further to the right… well, you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s for sure.” You keep talking, letting the words of frustration that you’ve had bottled up flow out of your mouth. 

With your eyes trained on Dazai’s chest and collarbone, you don’t see his trained on you. His soft gaze studies your face that, while distorted by your strong emotions, he finds calming. A smile spreads unknowingly across his lips, his expression growing impossibly softer towards you.

It’s only when you realize he hasn’t said a single word that you look up at him, his eyes meeting with yours immediately. You pause.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, unable to read the expression on his face. He remains quiet, chocolate eyes studying you closely with a kind, amused smile. “I don’t know what you could possibly be smiling about but- mmph!” Your words are cut short as he quickly leans forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You almost drop the wet cotton in you hand as he nips gently at your lips, kissing you carefully, but so passionately at the same time. His hands snake around you, one gripping your hip and the other wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

Your mind fogs over and you almost forget what you were saying. He’s so obnoxiously good at changing the subject. Even so, you find you don’t really care as you melt further into him.

His tender lips pull from yours and you feel practically breathless as he places his forehead against yours.

“Aww, you were worried about little ole’ me?” He asks with a delighted, teasing laugh. You flush, embarrasment and some remaining anger heating your face. You huff and go back to cleaning his wounds.

“Whatever… Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“You and I both know it’ll definitely happen again.”

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs are appreciated

[gyu-tori]

When The Reaper Weeps | K.TH

Pairing: grim reaper!taehyun x fem mortal!reader Genre: Angst, Romance, Mortality, Second Chance

Summary: The afterlife, where death waits in shadow, Taehyun walks the line between humanity and duty, a grim reaper bound by unyielding rules and a heart he has long denied. Cold and distant, he collects souls with precision—until one last wish changes everything.  

Y/N’s days are numbered, given seven days before the after life welcomes her. Her final mission is simple: mend the broken ties of her past.

As the days slip away, Taehyun’s carefully constructed world unravels. Y/N’s determination forces him to confront the emptiness in his existence. When choices arise—between rules, rebellion, and a love neither is prepared for—Taehyun must face the cost of defiance.  

Will he remain the Reaper, bound to his duty, or will he weep for the first time in centuries?

Warnings: taehyun is a bit of a tsundere, mentions of death, major character death(ish), reader is already dead, let me know if I missed any!

Word count: 12.4k

The quiet stillness of the afterlife was the only constant that Taehyun had come to know. The cold winds of eternity blew through the halls of the reaper’s realm, carrying whispers of the souls he’d escorted to their final resting places. Most of them faded into nothingness, their cries for help or hopes for redemption dissipating the moment they passed beyond the veil. It was his duty to guide them, and that was all. A grim task, but one that he carried out with cold efficiency.

Taehyun’s hands, always steady, gripped the scythe tightly as he watched the elderly woman in front of him. She was fragile, trembling with fear and sadness, the weight of her approaching death finally sinking in. Her eyes met his, seeking some kind of comfort, some sign that her journey would be gentle.

"What lies beyond isn’t for you to know now," he said, his voice as cold and unyielding as the winds. The words were automatic, a rote response that he had long since perfected. There was no room for sympathy in his role, and he had learned to suppress any flickers of emotion that might arise.

The woman’s hands shook as she clasped them in front of her, a final prayer for peace on her lips. "Will it be kind? The afterlife, I mean. Will it be peaceful?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Taehyun’s gaze softened, just for a moment. He had heard that question a thousand times before, but this time, it lingered in the air, thick with the weight of her fear. "All you need to know is that your soul will rest, and that is enough."

As he raised his scythe, the motion fluid and practiced, a pang of guilt tugged at his chest, though he quickly buried it. It was foolish to care. Souls were meant to pass on. They all did.

He pulled the soul from her, watching as the light faded from her body. The process was familiar, mechanical, but for a fleeting moment, something about her lingered in his mind, something he couldn’t quite name.

As he faded back into the ether, his scythe still in hand, the brief sensation of her fear remained with him—a reminder of the humanity he had long since abandoned. The wind rushed past him as he disappeared into the void, but that fleeting moment, that brief spark of emotion, stayed behind.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. Souls moved on. They always had. So why did it feel different this time?

She wasn’t ready to die.

Y/N laid on the hospital bed, surrounded by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the hushed murmurs of the doctors outside the room. Her body, frail and weak from the illness that had taken hold of her over the past months, felt as though it were no longer hers. She could feel the pull of death, an invisible force dragging her deeper into the dark abyss, yet she fought it.

There was still so much to do, so many things she hadn’t said, hadn’t fixed. The regret was a heavy weight on her chest, suffocating in its intensity.

Her eyes fluttered open as she heard the faint creak of the door, the cold, quiet footsteps that followed. She turned her head, her vision blurry from the painkillers they’d given her, and there he stood. The reaper.

Kang Taehyun.

His presence was as imposing as it was cold, a figure of dark silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. His scythe, dark and gleaming, rested in his hand with an aura of finality.

Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in her chest. She had imagined this moment so many times, but never like this. Never with so much unfinished business.

“Are you here for me?” Her voice was soft, weak, but there was an unshakable resolve behind it. She was ready. Not to die, but to make a wish. A wish she needed more than anything in the world.

Taehyun didn’t respond immediately. He stood in the doorway, his cold eyes scanning her. The air seemed to grow heavier, and she could feel his judgment. The reapers were not known for their compassion. They were silent, emotionless beings who did their duty without question. It was a matter of fate, of inevitability.

“Your time has come,” Taehyun said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, as though the words came from a place as distant as the very afterlife itself. “There is no place for you here anymore.”

But Y/N’s gaze never faltered. “I’m not ready,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Please... I have a request. A final wish.”

Taehyun's expression didn’t change. He didn’t care for wishes. Souls were meant to pass, and once their time was up, they moved on. There were no exceptions, no delays. It was the way of things.

“You have no time for such things,” he replied coldly, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re wasting what little remains.”

But Y/N, though frail and nearing the end, still had strength. She pushed herself up slightly, ignoring the pain that seared through her body. Her voice became more desperate, her words sharp as a plea. “I have one wish, one thing I need to do before I go. Please. I want to fix things with my little sister. I’ve hurt her so much over the years. I need one more chance to make things right. One more chance to say I’m sorry.”

Taehyun felt a flicker of something—something he couldn’t name, something he had long since abandoned—but he pushed it aside. Emotions were for the living, and he was no longer that. He was a reaper. He collected souls. That was his purpose.

“No one gets second chances,” he stated, his voice flat and final, as though sealing her fate with the words. “You’re being selfish. There is no time for you to play at redemption. Your soul belongs to the afterlife.”

Her heart sank, and yet she did not relent. “Please,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Just seven days. Just seven days, and I’ll go peacefully. I promise.”

There was silence between them, an air of finality that Taehyun couldn’t shake. For a brief moment, he considered it—her request. He could simply take her soul, and it would be done. But something gnawed at him, something buried deep inside. The desperation in her eyes, the raw vulnerability she displayed. It was foreign to him. She was so different from all the others.

Taehyun's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around the scythe. He could feel something in the pit of his stomach—something unshakable, a shift in the air, as though fate was tugging at him. He stepped back from the bed, the weight of her gaze following him.

Before he could speak, a voice rang out from the shadows.

"Taehyun."

A figure emerged from the corner of the room. The head reaper, Soobin, appeared like a shadow in the doorway. His presence was commanding, his eyes sharp with wisdom.

"You're being too hasty," Soobin continued, his gaze flicking from Taehyun to Y/N, then back to the reaper. "She’s not asking for much. Seven days. A mere week. Let her have it."

Taehyun’s gaze flickered, his face betraying the smallest hint of surprise. "You can’t be serious. We don’t give second chances. We don’t interfere with fate."

Soobin’s expression softened ever so slightly, a touch of sorrow in his eyes. “Even we were human once, Taehyun. We understand what it means to want redemption. To feel the weight of unfinished business.”

The words struck Taehyun like a physical blow. He had long since buried his humanity, and yet... something in Soobin’s tone made him question his certainty.

"You’ve always followed the rules," Soobin continued, his voice calm but firm. "Perhaps it’s time to let her try. Seven days. That is all she asks."

Taehyun stood in silence, his hand tightening around the handle of his scythe. A storm of conflicting emotions churned inside him—frustration, confusion, and the gnawing sense that he was being forced into something he couldn’t control.

Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the decision had crushed him. “Fine,” he muttered. “Seven days. But if she wastes this opportunity, I will return her soul without hesitation.”

Soobin’s expression softened just a fraction. “You’ll do well, Taehyun. Just remember... there are things even reapers can’t ignore.”

With that, Soobin disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Taehyun alone with Y/N once again. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the silent hope in her eyes. Something had shifted—something he wasn’t sure he understood. But the words were out, and there was no turning back now.

"You have seven days," Taehyun said, his voice colder than ever. "Do not waste it."

Y/N nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I won’t," she promised.

And so, Taehyun’s reluctant task began.

Taehyun stood by her side, watching in silence as Y/N gathered what little strength she had left. It had been a few hours since Soobin had granted her seven days to fulfill her wish, and though Taehyun was reluctant to admit it, he found himself watching her more closely than he had ever watched any soul before.

Y/N was different. She wasn’t like the others. The other souls he had collected were often resigned to their fate, accepting the inevitable with a quiet grace, or they fought with fear in their hearts, their cries drowned out by the pull of the afterlife. But Y/N was determined. There was no giving up in her. She had an energy about her that felt almost... alive, despite the state of her body.

He had barely said a word to her since the agreement was made, the silence between them stretching like an endless chasm. He had his orders, and he intended to follow them. Seven days. That was all she had. Seven days to fulfill a wish that had little chance of succeeding.

"You’re supposed to be my guide, right?" Y/N’s voice was soft but filled with determination.

Taehyun glanced at her, his face unreadable. "I’m here to make sure you don’t waste the time you've been given." His tone was clipped, formal. He didn't owe her anything more than that.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with an expression that was equal parts challenging and weary. "How can I not waste it if I don’t even know where to start? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just... trying to find my sister."

Her words were heavy, and despite his best efforts, Taehyun could feel a flicker of something in his chest—something like sympathy, but not quite. It was a feeling he had long since buried, and he quickly stamped it down, pushing it into the deepest corner of his mind.

"Start by listening to me and following the rules," he replied curtly, avoiding her gaze as his hand tightened around the scythe’s handle. “You need to stay out of trouble. No unnecessary interactions with the living. No distractions.”

She nodded, though her face was still clouded with doubt. “I understand.”

But Taehyun could see the doubt in her eyes. She wasn’t the kind of person who could follow rules so easily. He could already tell she wasn’t going to let go of her mission that easily. It didn’t help that the very concept of human emotions—the ones she clung to—puzzled him. He had seen them before, but he didn’t understand them. They were irrational, unpredictable, and they often got in the way of his work.

As they walked through the shadowed streets of the city, the weight of her sadness settled heavily in the air. Her body, still frail from the illness, moved slowly, but her determination was unmistakable. She refused to stop, her mind set on finding the one person who had once meant the world to her.

Taehyun’s gaze flicked from her to the quiet streets around them, his senses alert. The afterlife always felt close in moments like this—like the very air around them was charged with the weight of the dead. Souls wandered the streets in their ghostly forms, unaware of their fate, and Taehyun couldn’t help but wonder if they, too, had once been as driven as Y/N. Driven by love, regret, and unfinished business.

As if on cue, they encountered someone who was anything but quiet.

From an alleyway, a figure emerged—a tall, charismatic soul with an air of defiance around him. His eyes, gleaming with mischief, met Taehyun’s with an expression that could only be described as smug.

“Ah, what do we have here? A reaper and his charge, how quaint.” The man smirked, leaning casually against the wall.

Taehyun’s posture immediately tensed, the air around him growing colder. “Yeonjun,” he said in a low voice, his eyes narrowing. “I told you before—stay out of my way.”

Yeonjun chuckled, unbothered by the threat in Taehyun’s tone. “Oh, I’m just passing through. I don’t want to get in the way of your little... assignment.” He turned his attention to Y/N, a grin spreading across his face. “But I’m curious. Are you really going to follow a reaper’s orders? You’re not really his type, are you?”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, confusion and curiosity flickering across her features. “Who... who are you?”

“Yeonjun,” he said smoothly, “a soul who’s... well, I don’t really belong here. I’ve escaped the system. I live by my own rules.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal.

Taehyun’s gaze hardened, his hand tightening around his scythe. “Don’t listen to him. Souls like him only bring chaos.”

Y/N glanced at Taehyun, then back to Yeonjun. There was a hint of intrigue in her eyes, and Taehyun felt a knot form in his stomach at the way she looked at the rogue soul.

“But he’s free,” she said softly. “He doesn’t have to answer to anyone.”

Yeonjun flashed her a knowing smile. “Exactly. You see, Y/N, you could be free, too. Why bother following the rules? They don’t care about you. They don’t care about your little wish.” He turned his gaze to Taehyun, his expression turning mockingly serious. “You really think this cold-hearted reaper is going to help you? He’s just doing his job. He’ll take you straight to the afterlife without a second thought.”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze shifting between Taehyun and Yeonjun. Taehyun’s heart clenched—he could see her beginning to doubt him, doubt everything he represented. And yet, deep inside, he knew he was right. Souls like Yeonjun were dangerous. They didn’t care for anything other than their own freedom, their own selfish desires.

“You’re wrong,” Taehyun said, his voice colder than ever, the weight of his words cutting through the air like a blade. “She is not like you. She is not some rebellious soul looking for a way out. She has something to accomplish.”

Yeonjun tilted his head, his grin never faltering. “We’ll see about that. Seven days, right? That’s hardly enough time to do anything. You think she’ll be satisfied with some half-baked apology? Let’s see how this plays out.”

He lingered for a moment longer, his eyes locking with Taehyun’s one last time, before he disappeared back into the shadows of the alley.

Y/N remained silent, the weight of Yeonjun’s words hanging in the air. Taehyun could feel her doubt festering, a crack forming in the wall she had built around her heart.

He clenched his jaw. This was the last thing she needed—someone like Yeonjun planting seeds of rebellion in her mind. She had to focus. She had to—

“You’re not like him,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm. “You care.”

Taehyun froze, his mind reeling. Her words were unexpected, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

“You care about something,” she continued, looking at him intently. “I can see it. You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”

He felt his pulse quicken, an unfamiliar heat rushing to his face. He quickly turned his gaze away, hoping she couldn’t see the flicker of emotion in his eyes. He couldn’t afford to care. He couldn’t afford to let her see him for what he was—something more than just a reaper.

“I don’t,” he replied curtly, his voice laced with icy detachment. “Now focus on your mission. That’s the only thing that matters.”

The days were starting to blur together, each one passing with a quiet urgency that seemed to weigh heavier on Y/N’s shoulders. She had tried to reconcile with her younger sibling twice now, each attempt met with rejection. The first time, she had been met with an angry outburst, her sibling accusing her of abandoning them for years, and the second time, they had simply turned away, too hurt to face her.

Taehyun remained by her side, his presence a constant reminder of the weight of the task at hand. He said little, only offering cold and practical advice, but his silence often felt heavier than any words could be.

"You're making it harder than it needs to be," he said one evening as they walked through a desolate part of town, the fading light casting long shadows over the pavement. "You're not going to win them over by pushing. They need time."

Y/N was silent, her eyes fixed on the ground. She didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t have time. Her soul was slipping away, and every moment spent with her sibling was precious. She couldn’t afford to wait.

"I know," she said quietly, her voice breaking slightly. "But I don’t have time for that. I just want... I just want to fix everything before it's too late."

Taehyun’s lips pressed together in a thin line, his thoughts distant. "You can’t fix everything. Sometimes people... people aren’t ready to forgive."

Her words were sharp, but Taehyun caught the crack of emotion in her voice, the rawness of the hurt she carried. "I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just want a chance to make things right. To show them that I care. That I never meant to hurt them."

Taehyun stopped walking, his gaze settling on her, his usual stoic expression faltering for a moment. He couldn’t understand it—the human need to keep fighting for something that might never come to pass. He had seen enough souls over the years to know that people didn’t always get what they wanted. But there was something about her conviction, something that tugged at him, even though he was reluctant to admit it.

"I can’t promise anything," he said quietly, "but I’ll make sure you get a chance to try."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. It was a fleeting moment of vulnerability—one that Taehyun quickly masked with his usual indifference. He quickly turned away, hoping she wouldn’t see the flicker of something else in his gaze.

Before she could respond, a voice interrupted them, smooth and teasing.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the reaper and his charge," a familiar voice called out. It was Beomgyu, a reaper whose presence was always accompanied by an air of mischief. He appeared from the shadows, his expression amused as he approached. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything too sentimental."

Taehyun stiffened, his irritation flaring at the sight of Beomgyu. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone colder than before.

Beomgyu’s grin widened as he walked toward them. "Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to see how my favorite reaper is holding up. Looks like you’re babysitting another soul. How’s that going?"

Y/N frowned at the teasing tone in Beomgyu’s voice, sensing the tension between the two. She had seen Taehyun’s frustration before, but this was different. He seemed genuinely irked.

"It’s fine," Taehyun said curtly, ignoring Beomgyu’s attempts to rile him up. "I’m doing my job."

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Your job? Is that all you’re doing, Taehyun? Just... following orders?" He let out a small chuckle. "You’ve got a good heart buried under all that coldness. Too bad you don’t know what to do with it."

Taehyun’s grip on his scythe tightened, but before he could retort, Beomgyu’s expression shifted, his teasing demeanor replaced with something more serious.

"Listen, I get it," Beomgyu continued, his voice quieter now. "I’ve been where you are. There’s a reason the rules exist. I broke them once, thinking I could save someone who didn’t belong in the afterlife. It didn’t end well. Don’t make the same mistake I did."

Y/N looked between them, sensing the weight of Beomgyu’s words. "What happened?" she asked softly, her voice gentle, yet full of curiosity.

Beomgyu’s gaze darkened for a moment, his usual mischievous attitude slipping away. "I got attached to a soul. I thought I could help them, give them a second chance. But I ended up making things worse. I lost my position. And the soul... they disappeared. Like they never existed."

There was a heavy pause. Taehyun knew the story all too well. It was one of the reasons he kept his distance from the souls he was tasked with guiding. Attachment only led to pain. But still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder... Was there a better way?

"You’re right," Taehyun said, his voice flat, though the weight of Beomgyu’s words hung in the air. "The rules are the rules. And I’m not about to break them."

Beomgyu eyed him for a moment longer before giving a resigned sigh. "Just don’t say I didn’t warn you." With a final smirk, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving them alone once more.

Y/N watched the interaction closely, the silence between them stretching. "Is it really that dangerous to care about someone?" she asked quietly.

Taehyun’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. "Yes," he replied finally, his voice low. "It is. The more you care, the harder it becomes to let go. And in our world... you have to let go. It’s the only way."

But even as he spoke, he could feel the truth of it slipping through his fingers. His resolve was crumbling, piece by piece, as he spent more time with her. He had never cared about a soul this much, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

"Then why do you keep helping me?" she asked, her voice soft, but filled with a quiet challenge.

Taehyun froze, his heart skipping a beat. She was right to ask. He didn’t know why he kept helping her. He had tried to remain detached, to keep his emotions in check, but the more time they spent together, the harder it became.

"I’m not helping you," he muttered, almost to himself. "I’m just doing my job."

Y/N didn’t say anything more, but the look she gave him was one of quiet understanding, as if she saw through the walls he had carefully constructed around himself.

The next day, they were joined by Huening Kai, the newest reaper, still learning the ropes. He had joined their group without much fanfare, and despite his soft-hearted nature, he had already begun to question the ethics of their duties.

"Is it really right to just... take souls without knowing the full story?" Huening Kai asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. "What if they still have something to do? What if they’re not ready?"

Taehyun glanced at him, the irritation that had been simmering beneath the surface resurfacing. "It’s not our place to decide," he replied curtly. "The rules are set. We don’t question them."

But inside, Taehyun couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if he had questioned them—if he had listened to the voices like Huening Kai’s, or even Beomgyu’s.

As hours and hours dragged on, each moment more suffocating than the last. Y/N’s attempts at reconciliation with her sibling had begun to feel like futile gestures, her heart breaking a little more with each rejection. Yet, she never gave up. Even when she felt the weight of failure pressing against her chest, she stood tall, determined to finish what she had started.

Taehyun watched her from a distance, his gaze sharp, but his mind conflicted. Her determination was both admirable and frustrating. She was too stubborn for her own good, too attached to the idea of fixing things. And yet, there was something in the way she refused to give up that gnawed at him, something that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, humans were capable of something more than mere selfishness.

That night, as they walked through the quiet streets, the weight of unspoken words hung between them. Y/N had just returned from another failed attempt to speak with her sibling. Her shoulders were slumped, her face drawn with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of defiance in her eyes. She wasn’t going to let it go.

"I don’t understand," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Why is it so hard for them to forgive me? I know I hurt them, but... I’ve changed. I’ve spent so much time regretting what happened, and yet they... they won’t even let me try."

Taehyun didn’t answer at first. He had heard her speak of her regrets before, but tonight, her pain seemed to resonate deeper than it ever had before. Her voice trembled, and for a brief moment, he found himself wondering if he understood her pain more than he cared to admit.

"People don’t always forgive," he said softly, his voice almost too quiet for her to hear. "Sometimes, they can’t. And that’s not something you can control."

She stopped walking, turning to face him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but there was no anger in her gaze, only a quiet sorrow. "But I didn’t mean to hurt them. I never wanted this."

Taehyun’s heart clenched. He didn’t want to feel this—didn’t want to feel anything for her. But her pain, so raw and honest, made it impossible to ignore.

"Not everything is as simple as you think," he replied, his voice hardening again. "People hold grudges for reasons that go beyond your actions. You can’t expect them to forgive you just because you want it."

Y/N nodded slowly, as though accepting the harsh truth of his words. "I guess I’ll just have to keep trying, then," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. "Because I can’t leave this world without knowing I did everything I could to make it right."

Taehyun watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Despite himself, he felt a flicker of admiration for her unwavering resolve. But that was dangerous. Dangerous for him.

"Don’t get too attached to the idea of it," he warned her, his words cutting through the silence like a blade. "People don’t always get what they want. You need to be prepared for the possibility that you may never get the chance to make things right."

Y/N’s gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I know. But I have to try. Even if it’s just for me."

Before Taehyun could respond, a sudden rustle in the air caught their attention. They both turned to find a familiar face emerging from the shadows.

Yeonjun.

The rogue soul had appeared without warning, his usual cocky grin in place as he sauntered toward them. Taehyun tensed, his grip tightening on his scythe. He didn’t want to deal with Yeonjun right now—not when things were already complicated enough.

"Well, well," Yeonjun drawled, his eyes flicking between the two of them. "It looks like you’re both still at it. How’s the soul-sitting going, Taehyun? Still keeping things under control?"

Taehyun’s eyes narrowed. "This is none of your business, Yeonjun. Stay out of it."

Yeonjun’s grin widened, his gaze lingering on Y/N. "Oh, I think it is my business. You see, I’m a bit of an expert when it comes to breaking the rules and finding freedom. And I think your little friend here could use a bit of that."

Y/N frowned, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Yeonjun’s gaze softened slightly, though his grin never faltered. "I mean, why bother with all this... pointless struggle? You’ve got the time you need. The rules don’t have to control you. You can be free, live your life on your own terms. No more waiting, no more regret. Just... freedom."

Taehyun’s jaw tightened. "Don’t listen to him. He’s nothing but trouble."

But Yeonjun wasn’t deterred. "Come on, Taehyun, don’t be so rigid. You know as well as I do that the system is flawed. Why should she have to follow rules that don’t make sense? You want to save her, don’t you? Then let her go. Let her live."

Y/N turned to Taehyun, her expression uncertain. She had been listening carefully, and part of her felt the temptation rising within her. What if Yeonjun was right? What if there was a way to break free from this cycle of duty and loss? But even as the thought lingered, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of her own promise to herself—to try, no matter the cost.

"I... I don’t know," she murmured, torn between the pull of Yeonjun’s offer and the responsibility that Taehyun had placed on her shoulders. "But I can’t just... give up. I need to finish what I started."

Yeonjun’s expression softened, his usual smirk replaced by something almost like understanding. "You’re a stubborn one. But don’t say I didn’t offer you a way out."

With that, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving the two of them alone again.

The silence that followed was thick, the tension between them palpable. Y/N glanced at Taehyun, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision that lingered over her.

Taehyun didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He was too caught up in the storm of his own thoughts, in the doubt that Yeonjun had planted in his mind.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence. "What do you think, Taehyun?"

Taehyun’s gaze hardened, his usual cold exterior slipping back into place. "It doesn’t matter what I think," he said, his voice low. "You’ve made your choice. Just don’t expect it to be easy."

She nodded, the resolve returning to her features. "I won’t give up. I’ll find a way."

And though Taehyun couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud, a part of him wished—just for a moment—that she didn’t have to struggle so much. That there was an easier path for her.

As the days wore on, Y/N’s resolve never wavered, but the strain was beginning to show. She still visited her sibling, trying every approach she could think of to mend the broken bond, but each attempt was met with rejection, or worse—indifference. The closer she came to the end of her time, the more desolate the world seemed.

Taehyun, on the other hand, found himself increasingly caught between the rules he was sworn to uphold and the emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. His duty as a reaper had always been clear: to collect souls and ensure that the natural order was maintained. He’d never been one to question the process, nor had he ever felt any significant attachment to the souls he collected. But Y/N was different.

Her tenacity, her refusal to give up even when everything seemed lost, stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite understand. He hated how she made him feel. How he wanted to comfort her, wanted to ease her pain, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to care.

One evening, as the two of them walked in silence, a heavy fog began to settle around them. The streets were deserted, the usual sounds of the living muffled under the dense mist. Y/N had returned from another failed attempt to reach her sibling. Her eyes were red, and though she tried to keep up her usual determined front, it was clear she was exhausted—emotionally, physically, and mentally.

Taehyun glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long. Despite everything—despite how much he wished he could stay detached—he found himself walking just a little closer to her.

"You should rest," he said, his voice softer than usual, though he still couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her gaze. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard."

Y/N shook her head, the movement small and almost imperceptible. "I can’t rest," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not yet. I have to try… even if it doesn’t work out. I can’t leave this world without knowing I did everything I could."

Taehyun clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the scythe at his side. "It’s not worth it," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Some things can’t be fixed. Some things are beyond your control."

Y/N stopped walking, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that caught him off guard. "I don’t care," she said quietly but firmly. "If I don’t try, then I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Even if I can’t make things right, at least I’ll know I gave it everything I had."

Her words echoed in Taehyun’s mind, each one striking him with the force of a thousand emotions he couldn’t name. He wanted to shout at her to stop—to give up before she hurt herself even more—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her to stop trying, not when it was so clear how much it meant to her.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the fog enveloping them in a quiet, almost surreal stillness. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unsaid things.

"Why do you care so much?" Taehyun asked, his voice barely audible, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the question, but she didn’t hesitate to answer. "Because I have to," she said simply. "If I don’t care, then I’ve wasted everything. My life… my time here. I owe it to myself and to the people I’ve hurt to make things right."

Taehyun turned his head, his expression unreadable. He didn’t know what to say to that. He had never understood that kind of commitment, that kind of stubbornness. In his world, everything was final. There were no second chances, no room for regret. Souls were collected, and that was that.

But Y/N wasn’t like the other souls he had guided. She wasn’t resigned to her fate. She was fighting it with everything she had, and in that fight, Taehyun found something that threatened to unravel everything he thought he knew about the world.

"I don’t understand you," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/N smiled faintly, her expression a mix of sadness and understanding. "You don’t have to. You just have to let me try."

Taehyun’s heart skipped a beat at the softness in her voice. He wanted to say something—anything—to make her stop, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself nodding, albeit reluctantly.

"Fine," he said, his voice clipped. "I’ll give you another day. But after that, you’re on your own."

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, the walls she had built around herself seemed to crack. "Thank you, Taehyun."

He looked away quickly, his face flushing ever so slightly, but there was something about her gratitude that made him feel both uncomfortable and... something else. Something he couldn’t name.

As the fog thickened around them, they continued their journey, the silence between them carrying an unspoken understanding. Despite everything, despite the rules, despite the inevitable end that loomed over them, something had shifted. And neither of them knew what to do with it.

That night, Taehyun found himself standing on the edge of a rooftop, staring at the dark sky. The moon was hidden behind a thick cloud, and the stars were just barely visible through the haze. His scythe lay beside him, its cold steel gleaming faintly in the dim light.

He thought about Y/N—about her refusal to give up, her strength, her resilience. He hated how much it bothered him. He wasn’t supposed to care about her. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything for any of the souls he guided, especially not one who was determined to defy the natural order of things.

But as he stood there, the wind ruffling his hair, Taehyun couldn’t help but wonder—what if he could help her? What if, for once, he could break the rules and save her?

But that was impossible. He was a reaper. He followed the rules. He couldn’t let himself get caught up in something as dangerous as hope.

A soft sound broke his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see Y/N standing at the edge of the rooftop, her eyes on him. She looked smaller under the vastness of the sky, her figure barely more than a silhouette against the dark backdrop.

"You’re thinking too hard," she said quietly, her voice reaching him in the still night air.

Taehyun didn’t respond at first, his gaze fixed on the ground. He wasn’t sure what to say to her—how to explain the conflict inside him without betraying everything he stood for.

"I know," he muttered after a beat. "But I can’t help it."

Y/N stepped closer, her presence strangely comforting. "I think you’re the one who needs to let go," she said softly. "Not me."

The words hung between them, and Taehyun felt a strange tug in his chest—a pull that made him want to listen, to understand, even though he knew he couldn’t.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from her, his gaze falling back to the city below. "You’re wrong," he said quietly. "Letting go is impossible."

And yet, as he spoke the words, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be wrong—wrong about everything.

Y/N’s determination never faltered, though the toll it was taking on her was becoming apparent. She had grown quiet, her spirit slowly eroding with every failed attempt to reach her sibling. But despite the exhaustion in her eyes, the weight in her shoulders, she refused to give up. Every time she stood before the closed door, every time her sibling looked at her with cold, hurt eyes, she stood her ground.

Taehyun, too, found himself growing weary. Not from his duties—he was as efficient as ever at collecting souls—but from something he couldn’t explain. He had always been cold, detached, but something about Y/N, something about the way she refused to back down, was slowly cracking the wall he had so carefully constructed around himself.

He watched her one evening, as she stood by a window, looking out at the world she could no longer be a part of. The soft glow of twilight bathed her figure, highlighting the exhaustion etched on her face. Her shoulders were hunched in weariness, her eyes distant, but when she turned to face him, there was still that spark of determination in her.

"How much longer do I have?" she asked, her voice tired but resolute.

Taehyun hesitated, his mind fighting with itself. He knew the rules. Seven days. That was all she had. But it felt wrong, saying it out loud. Saying it to her, when she was so close to breaking, when her resolve was the only thing holding her together.

"Two days," he said softly, his voice betraying a hint of something unspoken. "Then you’ll be… taken."

She nodded, but he could see the way her face tightened, the faint quiver in her lips. He wanted to say something to comfort her, something to ease the pain he knew she must be feeling. But the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t allow himself to say anything that might make him appear weak—because the moment he did, the moment he showed even the slightest crack in his armor, she would have power over him. And he couldn’t afford that.

Instead, he simply nodded curtly, his eyes avoiding hers. "I’ll be here, like always. If you need anything."

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness there that made Taehyun’s heart ache in a way he couldn’t comprehend. She wasn’t afraid of death, not really. She was afraid of not finishing what she had started, of leaving behind a broken world and a broken family. And Taehyun knew, deep down, that no matter how much he tried to distance himself, he couldn’t ignore the pain that reflected in her eyes.

The next day, as Taehyun stood outside, waiting for Y/N to finish her visit with her sibling, his mind wandered back to his own past. To the things he had left behind when he died.

He had been human once—before the coldness, before the endless duty that bound him to the afterlife. He too, once had a family, friends, dreams. But all of that had been taken away from him when he crossed over to the other side, when his own soul had been claimed by the Reaper’s scythe. He had been assigned to guide the souls of others, to ensure they moved on to their next life—or to collect them when they refused. But over time, his humanity had withered. He had become numb to the pain of others, indifferent to the lives he saw pass through his hands. After all, what did it matter? He wasn’t alive anymore.

But then he met Y/N, and everything started to unravel.

She had been a breath of fresh air in a world that had grown stale, a reminder of everything he had lost but could never get back. Her strength, her kindness, her determination—all of it was so human, so raw. And it terrified him.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Taehyun."

He turned to find Y/N standing a few feet away, her gaze a little more distant than usual, but there was a hint of something else there too—something like peace, something like acceptance.

"You look lost in thought," she said with a small smile.

Taehyun straightened, instinctively pulling his cold mask back into place. "I was just waiting for you," he said curtly, his eyes scanning the area, looking anywhere but at her. "Are you ready to go?"

Y/N nodded, but there was a weight in her expression, a heaviness that Taehyun could feel pressing against his chest. She had come to terms with it. She had accepted the reality of what was happening, and for the first time, Taehyun wondered if she might have already given up on her mission, on the family she so desperately wanted to reconcile with.

"I’m ready," she said softly, the words almost a whisper. "But I wanted to thank you… for everything."

Taehyun’s brow furrowed slightly. "For what?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of confusion.

"For being here," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "For guiding me when I didn’t know what to do, for not leaving me to face this alone."

He was silent for a moment, the words taking him by surprise. He hadn’t expected gratitude. Not from her, not when he had done nothing to earn it. He had only done his job, after all. It wasn’t as if he had any choice in the matter.

But then, for a brief moment, his eyes softened. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but Y/N caught it.

"I’m just doing my job," Taehyun said, trying to brush it off, but his voice was softer than usual, almost as if the words themselves were reluctant to leave his lips.

Y/N shook her head, her eyes sad but full of something else—something deeper. "You could’ve just taken me when my time was up," she said, her voice steady despite the emotion behind her words. "But you didn’t. You’ve been here, watching over me. You didn’t have to. And I know it’s not easy for you. But you’re still here."

The words struck Taehyun harder than he expected, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar sensation. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

"I’m not a hero, Y/N," he said finally, the words almost a whisper, as if he were trying to convince himself more than her. "I’m just a reaper. This is what I do."

Y/N’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, she reached out, her hand brushing against his arm in a gesture of comfort.

"I know," she said quietly, her gaze searching his face. "But you don’t have to be just that. You can be more."

The moment lingered between them, a quiet connection that neither of them knew how to navigate. For Taehyun, it felt as if the world itself had paused, as if he were standing on the precipice of something he couldn’t understand but could no longer deny.

With a final, lingering glance, Y/N turned and began walking, her steps heavy but steady. Taehyun stood still for a moment longer, staring after her, his thoughts in disarray. He had spent so long keeping everything at arm’s length, convinced that his role as a reaper was all he needed to fulfill. But as the days dwindled and Y/N continued to fight, he found himself questioning everything.

He had never been one to defy the rules, but for the first time, he wondered… what if, just this once, he could break them? What if, just this once, he could save her?

With a bitter sigh, Taehyun followed her, unsure of what would come next, but knowing deep down that whatever it was, it would change everything.

The next day arrived with an oppressive silence hanging in the air. The world seemed to hold its breath, as if even the universe itself was waiting for Y/N to complete her mission or for the inevitable moment when she would be taken. But Y/N wasn’t ready to surrender, not yet.

She had spent the morning pacing, trying to think of another way to reach her sibling. Her resolve, though worn thin, remained steadfast. It had to. This was the only chance she had to make things right, to repair the fractured bond before her time was up. But with each passing second, she could feel the walls closing in on her, the weight of impending death pressing down on her chest.

Taehyun was no better. Every day, as he followed her, he found himself becoming more entangled in her world—her pain, her determination, her humanity. It was the last thing he wanted. But there was something about her that made it impossible to look away. Every time she failed, every time her heart broke a little more, he felt it too. It wasn’t just sympathy. It was something deeper, something that gnawed at him from the inside out. And every time he looked at her, he could see it: the raw vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

He hated it. He hated how much he cared.

But it wasn’t like he could walk away. He had a duty, after all.

That evening, Taehyun watched from a distance as Y/N stood at the edge of a small park, gazing at the trees and the sky, her expression distant. There was a wistfulness in the way she stood, as if trying to hold on to every last ounce of life she had left. It wasn’t fair, not to her. He knew that.

He stepped forward, his footsteps quiet on the grass. "Y/N," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She turned to face him, and for a brief moment, the flicker of something familiar passed across her features. It was sadness, but also something else—something that made Taehyun’s heart ache in ways he didn’t understand.

"You’re still here," she said softly, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah," Taehyun replied, his gaze softening despite himself. "I’m still here."

She looked at him for a long time, as if weighing something in her mind, and then, with a deep sigh, she spoke. "I’m not giving up, Taehyun. I won’t."

"I know you won’t," he said quietly. "But time’s running out."

She nodded, but there was something resolute in her eyes, something that told him she wasn’t about to give up, even if the world around her was crumbling. Her eyes met his, and for the first time since he had met her, there was no fear, no desperation in them. Only acceptance.

"Maybe," she began slowly, "I wasn’t meant to fix everything. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try. I’ll never stop trying."

For the first time, Taehyun didn’t know how to respond. He had never been good with words, never good at comforting others, especially not humans. But this… Y/N’s resolve, her refusal to bend, it made something inside him shift. For a fleeting moment, he imagined what it might be like to live with that kind of determination, to live for something bigger than himself. He didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t know if he even had that kind of strength left in him.

But he wanted to believe. For her, he wanted to believe.

Before he could speak, a sudden rustling in the trees caught their attention. Taehyun’s senses immediately sharpened, his hand instinctively gripping the scythe at his side. He could feel the familiar presence of a rogue soul—someone who didn’t belong here, someone who had escaped their fate.

"Yeonjun," Taehyun muttered, his voice hardening as he scanned the darkening park.

Y/N’s eyes widened as the figure of Yeonjun stepped out from the shadows, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Looks like I’ve found you both. How’s the mission going, little soul?"

Y/N’s expression tightened, but she stood her ground. "I’m doing fine, thank you for asking."

Yeonjun laughed, taking a casual step forward. "Oh, I’m sure you are. But you’re running out of time, aren’t you?" His gaze shifted to Taehyun, and the grin faltered just slightly. "And you… still playing the obedient reaper? How’s that working out for you?"

Taehyun’s grip on his scythe tightened, but he remained silent. He hated Yeonjun with a passion—hated everything about him, from his rebellious attitude to the way he constantly undermined everything Taehyun stood for.

Yeonjun’s eyes flicked back to Y/N, a smirk spreading across his face. "You know, there’s another way," he said casually. "You don’t have to go through with all this. You don’t have to stick to these silly rules. I can help you escape. I can show you a life without death chasing you. No more reapers, no more soul collection. Just… freedom."

Y/N stared at him, her lips pressed tightly together as she considered his offer. Taehyun felt a sudden surge of protectiveness—he didn’t trust Yeonjun. He never had. The rogue soul was dangerous, and his offers were always coated with lies.

"No," Y/N said firmly, shaking her head. "I won’t run from this. I’ve made my choice. I’m not going to give up now."

Yeonjun’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. He took another step toward her, his tone turning more insistent. "And what about the people you’ve hurt? The family you can never make amends with? What’s your ‘second chance’ really worth? You’re just buying time, Y/N. Time you’ll never truly have. It’s all just an illusion."

Y/N’s hands clenched at her sides, but she stood tall, her voice unwavering. "Maybe I can’t fix everything. But I’ll try. I’ll do what I can, and if it’s not enough, then at least I can die knowing I tried."

Taehyun stepped forward, his voice low and commanding. "Leave her alone, Yeonjun. Your offer means nothing."

Yeonjun chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll leave for now. But remember, Y/N," he said with a pointed look at her, "there’s always another way. You don’t have to stay on this path."

As Yeonjun faded into the shadows, Y/N let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words still lingering in the air. Taehyun didn’t speak, but he could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the conflict gnawing at her. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was making the right choice, but the words never came.

Instead, he simply stood beside her in silence, the two of them facing the night ahead.

The clock was ticking. And neither of them knew what would happen next.

The final day arrived, heavy with the weight of its inevitability. It was a strange kind of stillness that surrounded them, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something—anything—to break the silence. The clock was winding down, each tick bringing Y/N closer to the end, and Taehyun could feel it in his bones.

He had tried to prepare himself for this. He had tried to remain detached, to be the cold, unemotional reaper he was supposed to be. But as he stood beside her now, watching her take tentative steps toward her sibling’s house, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had already slipped out of his control.

Y/N didn’t speak as they walked. Her steps were slow, deliberate, but there was an exhaustion in her that Taehyun couldn’t ignore. Her hands were trembling, and the slight hunch in her shoulders betrayed the weight she had been carrying for far too long. The struggle to keep going, to stay strong when every part of her body screamed for release, was taking its toll.

She stopped before the door, hesitating for a moment as if she was unsure whether she was truly ready to face the past. Taehyun couldn’t blame her. The things she had left unsaid, the broken promises that had lingered between her and her sibling… It was a lot for anyone to carry, let alone someone who had only days left to live.

"You don’t have to do this," Taehyun said quietly, his voice soft but firm, though there was a strange uncertainty underneath it. "You’ve done enough."

Y/N didn’t turn to look at him. She simply stared at the door, her brow furrowing as she weighed her next move. "I can’t leave things like this. Not without trying one last time."

Taehyun took a step closer, but kept a careful distance. "What if it’s not enough? What if they still don’t forgive you?"

Y/N’s eyes flickered to him, and for a brief moment, their gazes met. There was sadness there, but also an incredible determination that made his chest tighten. "Then at least I’ll know I tried," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "At least I’ll know I didn’t give up."

It was the same answer she had given him countless times before. The same response that made him want to shout at her, tell her that there was no point, that she was wasting precious time. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he watched her reach out and knock softly on the door.

The moments that followed felt like a lifetime. Taehyun stood by her side, the air thick with tension as they waited for the door to open. It felt as if every breath they took was a countdown to something neither of them wanted to face.

When the door finally creaked open, Y/N’s sibling stood there, eyes wide with shock and confusion. There was a long, uncomfortable silence before they spoke.

"Y/N… What are you doing here?" The voice was cold, guarded. It was clear that the years of hurt hadn’t been forgotten.

Y/N’s face softened, but there was a tremor in her voice as she spoke. "I… I know I can’t undo the past. I can’t take back the things I’ve said or done. But I need you to know that I’m sorry. I regret all of it. And I just… I want to make things right before I…"

She faltered, and Taehyun could see her fighting to hold back tears. He knew how hard this was for her—how deeply she wanted to reach out, to close the distance that had formed between them over the years. But he also knew that no matter how much she wanted to mend things, there was a chance that it might not happen. People didn’t always forgive. Sometimes, things were beyond repair.

The sibling didn’t speak immediately. Instead, they just stared at Y/N, their expression unreadable. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and Taehyun’s patience was wearing thin. He wanted to tell Y/N to leave, to save herself from the heartache, but he didn’t.

He watched as Y/N swallowed, her breath shaky, and she took a tentative step forward. "Please," she said softly. "I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I just… I need you to know I’m sorry."

Her words hung in the air, fragile and vulnerable, and for a moment, Taehyun thought maybe, just maybe, they would make a difference.

But then the door slowly closed, the sound a final, painful confirmation that her sibling wasn’t ready.

Y/N stood there for a long time, her head lowered as if the weight of the world had just crashed down on her. Taehyun took a step forward, unsure of what to say, but knowing that he needed to say something.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "It’s not worth chasing something that won’t change."

But Y/N didn’t move. She stood there, motionless, her heart broken all over again. Taehyun watched her for a long moment, his thoughts in turmoil. He didn’t want to see her like this. He didn’t want to see her hurt.

But more than that, he didn’t want to see her give up.

He reached out, his hand tentative as it brushed against her arm. "Y/N…"

She looked at him then, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and for the first time, Taehyun saw just how much she had been carrying. All the weight of the world, all the pain of her past, all the love she had been holding on to in the hope of redemption—it was all written in her eyes.

"I tried," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I really tried."

And for the first time, Taehyun understood what it was like to want something so desperately that it hurt to even speak of it. He understood the agony of seeing someone you loved slip away, of not being able to make things right.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort her. But he couldn’t let her suffer like this, not when there was still a chance. Not when there was still time.

He pulled her into his arms, awkwardly at first, but then more firmly, holding her close as if he could keep the world at bay for just a moment longer. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the words to make this better.

But he held her, and for the first time in his existence, he felt the warmth of something human stir within him. Something deep and aching that made him realize just how much he had changed since meeting her.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything in the world had paused. She leaned into him, allowing herself to feel the comfort of his presence, even if just for a moment.

But the clock was still ticking.

They both knew it.

And in the end, there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The night stretched on in silence after that moment. Taehyun held her as the weight of what was happening pressed heavily on both of them. Time was cruel in its consistency, ticking away regardless of the emotions that churned in their hearts. Y/N’s breaths were shaky, each exhale a quiet surrender to the reality that she might never get the closure she sought. And Taehyun, standing with her in that small, broken moment, felt something within him crumble—a part of himself he hadn’t realized was still intact. A part that had once believed in the value of his role, in the necessity of following the rules, of keeping his distance. Now, standing beside her, he realized that it wasn’t enough.

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected to care.

But it wasn’t enough to just care. She was still running out of time. And he was bound by the same cold, unwavering laws that had governed his existence for so long.

When she finally pulled away from him, her face was streaked with tears, but there was something different in her eyes. There was no resignation, no defeat. There was resolve, tempered by sadness, but it was there. She wasn’t going to give up. Not now.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she wiped her eyes. "I thought… maybe if I could just say it one more time, it would make a difference."

"It’s not your fault," Taehyun replied, his voice rough with emotions he refused to acknowledge. "Not everything can be fixed."

Y/N shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line as she took a steadying breath. "I know," she said quietly. "But I had to try. I had to do everything I could."

He nodded, his throat tight. He wanted to say something more—something that would bring comfort, something that would make all the pain, all the hurt, go away. But there were no words. Not now.

For a long moment, they just stood there, the sounds of the world around them fading into a quiet hum as the night deepened. Taehyun’s thoughts were a tangled mess, but in that moment, there was a single thought that kept returning to him.

She was still here. She was still alive, and that was a miracle in itself.

But it was a fleeting miracle.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Taehyun spoke, his voice quieter than before, but laced with a tenderness that was foreign to him. "I’ll take you back. We can’t stay here."

Y/N’s gaze flickered to him, her expression unreadable for a moment before she nodded silently. She didn’t argue, didn’t protest. There was no more fight left in her—not after everything she had done, everything she had tried to fix.

As they walked away from the door, Y/N’s head hung low, her shoulders slumped with the weight of defeat. Taehyun’s heart ached for her. There was nothing he could say that would make it better. But he had to try to do something.

"I don’t know if it’s enough," she whispered, her voice barely a breath in the cool night air. "But I did my best. That’s all I can do, right?"

Taehyun remained silent for a long moment, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He didn’t know how to answer her. But he found himself unable to walk away from her—not yet.

"You did more than anyone could," he finally said, his voice steady. "You fought for what mattered, even when it seemed impossible."

Her lips curved up slightly, but there was no joy in the smile—only the faintest trace of something like peace. "Thank you," she said softly.

As they made their way back toward the place where time was ticking down to nothing, the atmosphere around them seemed to grow even heavier. It was as though the very air was thick with finality, as if the end had already been written and there was nothing left to do but walk the path to meet it.

But there was still something left to do. Still one last decision to make.

Later that night, Taehyun found himself standing before Soobin, his form cast in the dim light of the ethereal realm where the reapers convened. The weight of his actions pressed heavily on his chest, but there was no turning back now. He had done something he wasn’t supposed to do, something that could cost him everything—his position, his very existence as a reaper.

"Soobin," Taehyun’s voice was firm, yet there was a thread of uncertainty running through it. "I need more time for her."

Soobin’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a certain weight, a depth of understanding that made Taehyun uneasy. "You know what this means," Soobin replied quietly, his voice heavy with the gravity of their world. "You’re asking for something that could undo everything you’ve known. A reaper’s duty is to maintain balance, Taehyun. To preserve order."

Taehyun clenched his fists at his sides. "I know," he said, his voice trembling with the truth of it. "But what if the balance isn’t right? What if it’s broken?"

Soobin’s gaze softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something familiar in his eyes. "Even we were once human," he said cryptically. "We were given the same choice—to live, to love, and to face the consequences. And we made our choice."

"I’m not asking for myself," Taehyun said, his words coming faster now, desperate. "I’m asking for her. She deserves a chance. A real one."

Soobin sighed, long and heavy. "You are asking for the impossible," he said, almost sadly. "But I cannot change the rules, Taehyun. You know that. This is not something that can be undone. Her time is running out."

Taehyun’s heart pounded in his chest. He knew what he had to do, and the consequences were beyond anything he could fully comprehend. He had to make a choice—his duty as a reaper or his feelings for Y/N.

And as he looked at Soobin, as he thought about everything that had led him here, he realized that the rules didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was her, and what she had fought for.

Without another word, Taehyun stepped back and raised his scythe. His hand trembled, but he knew what he had to do.

"Taehyun, wait," Soobin warned, his voice low and firm, but Taehyun’s mind was made up.

"Just this once," Taehyun whispered, his heart breaking as the words left his lips.

The moment his scythe cut through the air, he knew the price he would pay. And yet, he didn’t hesitate. For her, he didn’t hesitate.

The light around them began to flicker, the air growing colder with each passing second. And then, as if the very essence of existence itself had shattered, Taehyun made his choice.

He would save her. No matter the cost.

Struggling with his steps, Taehyun returned to where Y/N was. Seeing his state, she frantically ran up to him, just as his legs gave up on him. “Taehyun! What happened?” she holds him in her arms, tears welling up in her eyes seeing him like this. 

“I did it…” he weakly says, “You’re safe now.”

“Taehyun…” Y/N whispered, her voice full of sorrow and fear as his body grew lighter with every second that passed, as if gravity was losing its hold on him. “Please don’t leave me.”

Taehyun’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his body trembling with the force of the afterlife’s grasp. “I won’t leave you,” he promised, his voice barely audible. “Not now. Not ever.”

But even as he spoke those words, he knew they were a lie. The consequences of his actions were already taking hold, and he could feel himself slipping away. His once-immense power as a reaper was dwindling, and with it, his existence in the afterlife was being erased. His body grew heavier, and the light around them began to dim.

Taehyun looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with a deep sadness that pierced her heart. “I can’t stay, Y/N,” he whispered. “Not in the way you want me to. But I’ll always be with you. Even if you can’t see me.”

Tears spilled from Y/N’s eyes as she clung to him, refusing to let go. “I don’t care about the rules,” she cried. “I just want you to be here. With me. Alive.”

Taehyun smiled faintly, his form growing weaker by the second. “I’m sorry. This is the price I must pay. But know this, Y/N: I love you. And I’ll never forget you.”

With those final words, Taehyun’s form flickered like a candle in the wind. Y/N’s heart shattered as she watched him fade away, his essence slowly being consumed by the afterlife.

And just like that, he was gone.

The world around her seemed to crumble, as if the very foundation of her existence had been torn apart. She collapsed to her knees, her sobs echoing through the empty void. She had lost him—forever.

But even as the tears fell, she could feel a faint presence lingering in the air around her. The love they had shared, the bond they had formed, was still there, somewhere. She didn’t know how, but she could feel it.

For a single, suspended moment, everything was still. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then, with a sudden rush of energy, the light enveloping Y/N burst outward, and her body collapsed to the ground in the human world, alive. She gasped, her chest heaving as air flooded her lungs, her heart pounding wildly as if racing to make up for lost time.

But the memories were gone.

The love, the anguish, the fleeting moments they had shared—everything that had made the last seven days hers to cherish, to mourn—vanished like a dream upon waking.

Y/N sat up slowly, dazed, her eyes scanning her surroundings. The world felt… unfamiliar, like a place she hadn’t seen in years but somehow knew by heart. A faint ache lingered in her chest, a bittersweet longing she couldn’t name. It whispered of something important, something precious lost to her. But no matter how hard she tried to grasp it, it slipped through her fingers, leaving only a vague sense of gratitude.

Taehyun’s fall from grace was swift.

The moment the forbidden magic completed its work, he felt the pull—an immense, tearing force that stripped him of everything that made him a reaper. His scythe, his cloak, the weight of his power—all vanished, dissipating into the void as though they had never existed.

He stumbled, the ground beneath him hard and solid in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his body ached. The world around him wasn’t ethereal or formless; it was real, tangible.

Human.

His memories as a reaper blurred and fractured, the clarity of his existence splintering as his consciousness faded into the soft haze of mortality.

When he opened his eyes again, he was someone else. A human man with no scythe, no duties, and no name but the one he had been given in this new life.

And yet, there was something that lingered—fragments of a past life he couldn’t quite shake. In his dreams, he saw a woman. Her face was a mystery, her name always just out of reach, but her presence was undeniable. She was there, in his mind, in his heart, haunting him with the weight of something he couldn’t remember but couldn’t let go of.

He lived a quiet life now. The days passed in unremarkable fashion, but he found himself drawn to certain places, certain moments. As though some invisible thread were guiding him, pulling him toward something he had lost.

It was a quiet afternoon when their paths crossed again.

The small bookstore was warm and inviting, the scent of old paper mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the café next door. Taehyun stood near a shelf, absently flipping through the pages of a novel he had no real intention of buying. His mind wandered, as it often did, to the dreams that had plagued him for as long as he could remember.

Then, he felt it.

A presence.

It was subtle, like the first note of a forgotten song, but it struck him with enough force to make him look up sharply. Across the room, she stood by a display table, her fingers trailing lightly over the spines of a row of books.

He didn’t know her name, didn’t know who she was, but the sight of her filled him with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. His heart raced, his chest tightening as if something deep inside him had been waiting for this moment.

Y/N glanced up, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, she froze, her breath catching in her throat. There was something about him—something she couldn’t explain but couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t recognition, not exactly, but it was close.

“Hi,” she said, her voice soft, hesitant.

Taehyun blinked, startled by the warmth that spread through him at the sound of her voice. “Hi,” he replied, his voice quieter than he intended.

An awkward pause lingered between them, neither knowing why they felt compelled to speak, why their gazes held for a beat too long. Finally, Y/N smiled, a small, uncertain curve of her lips that sent a pang of something indescribable through Taehyun’s chest.

“Do I know you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “You seem… familiar.”

Taehyun hesitated, the words on the tip of his tongue. Did she? Did he? He didn’t know how to answer. All he knew was the pull toward her, the way his heart seemed to recognize hers even if his mind couldn’t.

“I don’t think so,” he said finally, though the words felt like a lie.

Y/N nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe I’m just imagining things,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Taehyun smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

They stood there for a moment longer, the noise of the bookstore fading into the background as the weight of something unspoken hung between them. Neither of them could name it, but neither wanted to let it go.

“Well,” Y/N said, breaking the silence, “it was nice meeting you… again, maybe?”

Taehyun chuckled softly. “Yeah. You too.”

As she turned to leave, something in him stirred—a sudden, desperate urge not to let her go.

“Wait,” he called after her.

She turned, her expression curious.

“Would you… like to get a coffee sometime?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a moment, he felt like he was holding his breath.

Y/N’s smile widened, a hint of something brighter, warmer in her eyes. “I’d like that."

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: I wasn't expecting to write another fic this fast, but I really enjoyed writing this. It might've been done a tad bit rushed so I hope it still makes sense. I was just randomly inspired and wanted a bit of angst so here it is. I will be spacing out my releases after this though so I don't run out of ideas and writer's juice lmao. This is still my second ever fic so I hope you give it as much or even more love than the first!! ^-^

P.S. I really love reading out your thoughts and how the fic made you feel so please don't hesitate to share your opinions in the comments or through reblogs, I would really appreciate it~

Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @vicurious28 @xylatox @baekberrie @immelissaaa

[asoftepiloguemylove]

i love you like a rotten dog, i love you like my canines are falling out of my gums. like a monster, like a beast. like something not worth loving back.

Marie Lu The Young Elites / @/bloodyhellharry (on tumblr) from The Infamous Willow Prank, Part Three / Hélène Cixous excerpt from Love of the Wolf, "Stigmata: Escaping Texts" / @/thymoss (on tumblr) / Virginia Woolf The Waves / Deborah Landau Soft Targets / Tory Adkisson Anecdote of the Pig

i. Marie Lu, The Young Elites

[ "So. Tell me, little wolf. Would you like to punish those who have wronged you?" ]

ii. @/bloodyhellharry

[ Pencil drawing of three panels of a comic strip. The first image is of a closed hatch. The second image shows the hatch being opened slightly. The third imagine is the largest. It shows a wolf with a large shadow, snarling at the cracked hatch. "IF HE'D GOT / AS FAR AS THIS HOUSE, / HE'D HAVE MET A FULLY GROWN / WEREWOLF" ]

iii. Hélène Cixous, Love of the Wolf

[ "The lamb loves its wolf. The wolf turns all white and starts quivering out of love of the lamb. The lamb loves the wolf's fragility, and the wolf loves the frail one's force. The wolf is now the lamb's lamb and the lamb has tamed the wolf. Love blackens the lamb." ]

iv. @/thymoss

[ Messy sketch of the head of an animal with teeth surrounding the outside of it's face, pointing away from it. "I will / remove my teeth, for I / want to remain / kind despite / my anger" ]

v. Virginia Woolf, The Waves

[ "I press you to me. / Come, pain, feed on me. / Bury our fangs into my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob." ]

vi. Deborah Landau, Soft Targets

[ "We are animal hungry down to our delicate bones." ]

vii. Tory Adkisson, Anecdote of the Pig

[ "Do you still believe myths / can save you? Foolish creature. / Let me be clear: every version of the story / ends with you being slaughtered." ]