Wrong Smile, Wrong Guy

Wrong smile, Wrong guy

Jealous!Chishiya x Reader | enemies in love :) | slow-burn tension

The beach was loud tonight—bonfires flickering, music echoing across stone walls, voices bouncing off tile and tension. From the second-floor balcony, half-shadowed by a column, Chishiya stood still—detached, as always. Except tonight, his eyes weren’t wandering the crowd like usual.

They were locked on you.

You were standing near the bar, posture loose, laughter easy. You looked soft in the glow of the firelight—softer than you ever were with him, and he hated that he noticed. Chishiya couldn’t hear the conversation—didn’t need to. You laughed, the kind of genuine laugh he didn’t see often, and tilted your head in a way he recognized. That glint in your eye, the one you always used right before a sharp-tongued resort—gone. Replaced with softness. The source?

Last boss.

Of all people

Chishiya’s jaw tensed, the corner of his mouth twitching—just enough to betray him. He wasn’t even sure why it annoyed him. It just did.

He watched you nudge Last Boss playfully in the arm—touched him—and that was it. He turned away, pacing a step like the movement might shake it off. But it didn’t. You never smiled liked that when you talked to him. With him, you were all eye rolls, sarcasm, smug jabs, and “go away, Chishiya.”

So why the hell did it bother him?

Maybe it was the way you looked so uncomplicated down there, laughing like the world wasn’t crumbling. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t even noticed him watching. Or maybe it was because somewhere deep in his chest, there was a flicker of something he didn’t want to name.

He glanced over his shoulder again, watching you from afar, and quietly muttered to himself.

“Tch. Idiot.”

But this time, he wasn’t talking about you.

Little idiot (Choi Su-bong x F! Reader)

summary: you’ve got a fever and text your best friend ‘hel me, m feelin hot’. he’s high and interprets it as you wanting him. but when he comes over it ends up being more wholesome than you (him) think.

warnings: dirty minded Su-bong, idiot with a crush, pretty wholesome, bad at feelings, clumsy, au with no games, brief mention of pills

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I’ve never used tumblr before, hope I’m doing this right! also English isn’t my first language so please correct me if you notice any typo :3 I’m open to requests if anybody likes this and would like to see more/something different!

"Hel me, m feelin hot."

When Su-bong first saw the message, he momentarily let go of the shisha, his eyes widening.

"Yo, what’s up, bro?"

Two of the guys around him snickered, the fruity, intoxicating smoke curling from his nostrils.

"A girl?"

A dark-haired guy, whose name he had long forgotten, craned his neck over his phone.

"Oooohh. Getting laid. I seee."

Su-bong stared at the screen. Usually so chatty, words suddenly got lost in his throat. The others lost interest in his phone, yet he kept rereading the message. "M feelin hot." His trousers tightened slightly, and he swallowed a groan.

"Shit, guys, I gotta go."

He rose, giving them a quick dap, and they smirked, mimicking breasts and an obscene gesture with their hands and mouths. He flipped them off and stumbled out of the bar. Could it be? No. He reread the message. "Hel me, m feelin hot." Were you in heat? Your period had ended about a week ago - you complained about it constantly - and he knew ovulation or whatever it was could make women... desperate. Could that be the reason? The thought sent a rush of exhilaration through him.

"Fuckkk," he exhaled.

His pants were growing uncomfortably tight. Clenching his cross in his palm, he flagged down a cab, reciting your address while attempting to stifle the impure thoughts unfurling in his mind. But he was burning up. The moment the taxi halted, he fumbled for old, crumpled bills in his pocket, shoved them at the driver, and stumbled out.

Then, suddenly, he doubled back and entered a convenience store, purchasing a small square packet. Protection. Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe. You had been very close friends for over a year, best friends, maybe too, ever since you, a nurse, had helped him when he’d gotten a pill lodged in his nostril. It hadn’t exactly been funny, but you had stifled a laugh while assisting him, smiling warmly. He had quite enjoyed the glimpse of cleavage beneath your uniform, the sight of your lips when you lowered your mask. But you had a boyfriend. And even though he had managed to dig up your number from the hospital database, you had blocked him.

Then, a few weeks later, he had spotted you at a bar, kissing some random guy. He had seized the opportunity to inform you that your "boyfriend" was downright hideous. You had laughed, telling him it wasn’t your boyfriend - you had just been dumped. You had unblocked him that night, and the two of you had been texting ever since.

You two never slept together. That is why, one, he was so damn confused, and well, two, that it had blossomed into something resembling a friendship. Getting along well, having inside jokes, he wasn’t sure he wanted that ruined for just a one-night stand. But damn, was he turned on right now.

The idea of sleeping with you, not sleeping with anyone, but you, it was so new and so… so good. And it made his heart flutter in a way it hadn’t before. Never. Which is why he was twice as confused now. Why was he feeling like this? Maybe, just maybe because you were great friends. Yeah, that was it. It could only be this.

Sure, it was sometimes ambiguous. And, well, you in scrubs drove him insane. But friendship wasn’t too bad. Especially when you allowed him to hug you, letting him nuzzle into your chest like a child. "Such a kid," you used to laugh. He was cute, but so immature.

You were so out of his league. Outgoing, confident, you had a job and not any job, you were a talented nurse, and you were funny and smart. Maybe that is why his heart beat so fast. Of course.

Now, however, his vision blurred. He stepped out of the store, unfastened his cross, and swallowed a pill to regain composure. Fuck. Nothing was strong enough to quell this fire.

Crossing the street, he reached your building, pushed the door - then cursed, remembering he had to pull (he always got it wrong). He took the stairs two at a time.

Shit. Triple shit. Standing before your door, he felt disoriented. Utterly disoriented. His heart pounded, palms slick, throat parched, like a teenager before his first crush. God. You were fine. But not just that. You were witty, and he adored your laughter. You even laughed at his dumb jokes.

He rang the doorbell.

No answer. Anxiety gnawed at him - had he misread the situation? He rang again, then checked his phone. The message was still there. Then why weren’t you-

He suddenly remembered he had your keys. He rummaged through his pocket, mistakenly pulling out his motorcycle keys before finally finding the right ones. Turning them in the lock, he stepped inside your small studio, only to find it empty. Panic swelled in his chest.

"Yo? Señorita?"

Fumbling for the light switch, he flipped it on - only to be met with utter chaos. Your apartment was in complete disarray, the air thick and stifling.

"Where are you? Fuck."

He set the convenience store bag atop a drawer and began searching. That’s when he noticed - the bathroom door, slightly ajar. And light flickered from within.

He panicked.

Then-

There you were. Gripping the faucet, face ablaze, lips trembling.

"My God, what’s wrong?"

He rushed forward, and you collapsed into his arms. Your breath, hot against his chest, trembled as you murmured, "Hot," "Fever," and "Lost."

Poor thing.

Biting his lip at his own idiocy, he carefully helped you out of the bathroom. He had no idea what he was doing - hesitated, then finally settled on laying you down on the couch before fetching a damp towel.

A feeble chuckle escaped your lips as you exhaled what little air remained in your lungs - because he hadn’t wrung out the towel, it was drenched, and he had grabbed the overused one hanging by the sink. That clumsy idiot.

He sat cross-legged beside the couch, back to you, fiddling with his cross.

"You want a pill? Might help."

You feebly smacked his shoulder, mumbling something incoherent. He turned, finding you feverish and drenched in sweat.

"Want me to open the window? Run downstairs for some painkillers? Or maybe give you a massage? Hey, señorita, don’t die on me!" he whined as you shut your eyes.

You mumbled again.

"M’sorry, I didn’t understand could you like repea-“

"Shut… up and come here," you managed.

His heartbeat went wild.

Trembling, he hesitantly perched at the edge of the couch, leaving a respectful gap. His back still faced you.

"Hey, don’t tell me you’ve never been in bed with a girl. Lie down and talk."

Well, you weren’t exactly wrong. But this was different. You weren’t just "a girl." And after tonight’s message, his mind definitely crossed a line, making it painful - humiliating, even - to face you.

But then, your feverish, trembling hand grasped his. And his whole body ignited.

Finally, with great effort, he lay down, swallowing hard, now facing you. Space was tight. You radiated heat. Then, without warning, you tucked your head against his chest, pressing your overheated skin into him, breathing laboriously. You burned against him, and his chest fluttered with butterflies.

"Hold me," you whispered. "Talk. Say something."

Tentatively, his fingers found your waist, pulling you in, holding your body weakly against his.

You gazed up at him, hands clutching his shirt, eyes wide, fever-bright. Sweat clung to your hair, strands plastered to your forehead, and beneath your long lashes, this gleaming gaze became the most breathtaking sight he had ever beheld.

Shit.

Desperate to steady his hammering heart, he forced words out.

"I… I’m working on a new track for the Underground rap battle. I really think I can win this time. It’s good. The manager says it could blow up."

Gradually, he relaxed, holding you closer, feeling your breathing even out against him. Your body slackened, and you nuzzled into his shirt, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and shisha.

"Hey, señorita, you should come watch me. I’m too sexy when I sing. Apparently, I sweat from my forehead, and it’s super hot. That’s what all the girls say when they hit on me. There’s a lot, you kno-"

He looked down.

Against him, you had drifted off.

A soft, barely-there snore. A faint trickle of drool. Stray strands of hair. Flushed cheeks.

And just like that, he forgot all about the small, unopened packet at the threshold, the heat your message had sparked within him, and focused solely on the languid softness of your form.

It suddenly struck him. More than any of his dirty thoughts, what he had truly longed for was this. Overcome with a mix of confusion and longing, he murmured a quiet "goodnight" that was swallowed by the surrounding darkness, his yawn stretching before he succumbed to the comforting pull of your embrace.

The next morning, when you awoke first, you were in full vitality. You sprang from the couch, flung open the windows to let in the air - it was stifling - and made your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a refreshing glass of orange juice, after gently covering your friend.

Then, on the entryway shelf, you noticed a small bag, which you opened, revealing a distinctively familiar package.

You snatched your phone from the counter, suddenly recalling the message you had written. A soft laugh escaped your lips as you returned the protections to their original place, deciding to act oblivious, eyes gleaming, before grabbing the juice to cool off.

He was rather endearing, that little idiot.

ayy lmk what you guys think

464 notes View Post

l5byrinth

1 month ago

LOVE LESSONS

genre. fluff. mutual pining. whc1 w/o the angst au. warnings. they're both whipped. pairing. sieun x fem!reader. wc. 2.6k. (wish it was longer damn) request. no. a/n. happy birthday @yeonjuns-redhair i love you so so so so much you'd better enjoy it 🔪

Sieun hadn’t taken much interest in girls during his life. Other than the fleeting first crush he had when he was fourteen, girls had been the last thing on his mind as he focused all his energy into his grades. But there was just something about you that Sieun couldn’t ignore. Without realising it, he was falling head over heels in love with you and he didn’t even have the courage to speak a single word to you.

You sat a seat up from Sieun one row over, a spot which allowed him to admire you silently whenever he wanted (which was increasingly becoming the only thing he wanted to do). Whenever the window was open on a warmer day, the breeze would always reach your hair and blow in just the way to take Sieun’s breath away. He had become an expert at pretending to be absorbed in his notes like he always was, but his gaze always found its way to you eventually.

The first person to realise was Sooho.

“You like Y/n or something?” Sooho teased, dropping into the seat in front of Sieun, making him look up from his notes which hadn’t been added to in the past 20 minutes despite the pencil in his hand.

“Is it obvious?” Sieun said in a panicked voice, eyes glancing over the mostly empty room just to make sure no one was listening.

“Given that she has the power to take your attention away from your studies, I’d say so.” Sooho pointed out, grinning.

“What do I do?” Sieun sighed, dropping his pencil, dropping his head into his hands.

Sooho leaned back in his seat, pretending to think, “Ask her out, obviously.”

Sieun’s eyes widened, “What?”

“What?” Sooho echoed.

“I… I can’t ask her out.”

“Why not?”

Sieun flushed, “...She’s too good for me.” He mumbled.

Sooho raised his eyebrow at this, “Oh, you’re more whipped than I thought.” He gave Sieun a lopsided grin, finding the younger boy adorable. “Let me guess, you’ve never had a girlfriend before?” Sieun shook his head. “Don’t worry,” Sooho nodded as he spoke, “I can help you.”

“How?”

“Private lessons.” Sooho concluded, standing up and patting Sieun’s shoulder before walking out of the classroom. Sieun stared at him as he left, feeling the anxiety rising and he tried to gulp it back down.

Sieun’s first “private lesson” took place the next day. As he worked his part time job at the restaurant, Sooho gave all the advice he had to Sieun. Most of it went right over the smaller boy’s head, but he tried his best to at least write it all down on a notepad. He would need all the help he could get in order to even approach you, so he studied diligently.

“Figure out what she likes first. If she likes strawberry smoothies, buy her a strawberry smoothie. If she likes stuffed animals, buy her one. But be nonchalant about it, like you just happened to know that it was her favourite. Girls don’t like it when boys are obsessed with them.” Sooho explained as he sorted cans of soda.

“Am I too obsessed with her?” Sieun said suddenly, halting the movements of his pen.

“No, no, don’t worry about that. She’ll love you, you’re very lovable once you open up.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“And what if she does? Stop overthinking it and write down what I say, okay?”

Sieun left that first lesson overwhelmed. He had never thought so hard about how much eye contact to make or what pick-up lines to use. He was starting to feel like maybe he couldn’t do this. You were way out of his league and didn’t even know he existed. He was stupid to even try.

When he arrived at school in the morning, his head felt as cloudy as the sky outside. It was encroaching on a darkness but still clung to the cusp of a light grey. The clouds swirled around and hid the sun, a harsh breeze shifting the leaves on the trees.

Sieun opened his backpack to get out his notebook, but his attention was immediately drawn to a small bottle of mango juice. Sooho must have stuck it in. He grabbed it and found a sticky note with unmistakably Sooho’s handwriting scrawled on it.

I heard from her friend that this is her fav— remember what I told you ;)

Sieun sighed and peeled the sticky note off of the bottle, recalling all the steps Sooho had meticulously given him the previous day. Act cool, don’t try too hard, don’t act interested at first, etc.

Sieun busied himself with studying for the next hour, waiting for when you arrived to class so he could give you the juice. You walked in with a boy beside you and Sieun’s heart sunk. His eyes flickered between you and the boy who was clearly clinging to your side. Sieun thought that maybe you looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t know for sure. He just forced himself to look down at his paper, missing the way you instinctively looked at him, a mixture of disappointment in your face.

Sooho offered Sieun a ride home after school, eager to know if he had successfully made a move on you. “Did she like the juice?” Sooho asked brightly, passing Sieun the motorcycle helmet.

The other boy was silent as he put it on, still processing his disappointed emotions. Why did it make him feel like he was about to explode seeing someone else so close to you?

With the long pause, Sooho was quick to pick up on what had happened, “Don’t tell me you didn’t give it to her?” Sieun nodded quietly, affirming Sooho’s suspicions before sitting down on the motorcycle without another word. Sooho sighed and joined him, turning on the engine with a loud rev and entering the lane on the road.

You had known Sooho since your 5th birthday. He was that one kid who no one really knew why they were invited to the party, but ended up being the star anyway. He had caked you in the face on your 7th birthday as a prank, and now it was a tradition at every birthday.

No one was really aware of how close you two were, since you didn’t spend much time talking at school. Sooho was always sleeping and you were always spending way too much time being distracted by the most beautiful eyes- studying. You were studying.

It had been months of your studying being rudely distracted by this… certain someone, and your grades were realistically suffering because of it. You needed to do something about it, and luckily for you, Sooho was friends with this boy. It was like the stars had aligned.

“Sooho!” You sat down loudly at the desk in front of the sleeping boy, earning a tired groan as the boy attempted to wake up from his slumber.

“What?” He rubbed his eye lazily, waiting for you to bring up what was so important as to interrupt his precious sleep.

“I need to confess or else my grades will crash and burn.” You said dramatically, much to the confusion of the boy in front of you.

“Who are you confessing to?” He asked groggily but a bit more alert than before, thoughts of Sieun’s failed confession running through his brain immediately. What if you liked someone completely different? Should Sooho still encourage Sieun to confess to you?

“Sieun…” You muttered weakly.

“What?” Sooho’s eyes brightened when you repeated Sieun’s name in clarification. “I have a plan.”

Sooho’s plan was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. How the heck was randomly showing up to Sieun’s apartment going to achieve anything? What did he expect you two to do? Eat dinner?

Sooho had dropped you off 30 seconds ago and sped off on his motorcycle before you could figure out exactly where you were and bombard him with questions. He didn’t give you any instructions, any pointers. All he said was that Sieun had something to drink. You were confused and a little annoyed and scared. You would probably embarrass yourself in front of Sieun and then that would be the end of it. You wouldn’t have the courage to even look at the boy ever again.

You hesitantly knocked on the door since Sooho had threatened you in case you chose to run away instead of doing anything. As the door opened, you were faced with the pair of eyes that you expected. You watched as shock flickered over them.

You could practically melt right then and there just from looking at him. You had never actually seen him in clothes other than his school uniform, and while he looked good in it, he looked infinitely better in this; a soft crew neck and sweatpants. You could only imagine how comfortable it would be to hug him or even cuddle-

Your thoughts were shut down when Sieun spoke, a little timidly, “Do you want to come in?” His voice was soft like it always was. He never really talked much. Even when answering questions in class, he spoke in as few words as possible. You couldn’t lie, you found it endearing.

You nodded and walked through the door, finding the apartment unsurprisingly clean. You took off your shoes, staying in just your socks. Sieun tried to look for a spare pair of slippers to give you, but the only pair was his dad’s which were comically too big for you.

You gave up the search and walked to the couch to sit down. You could feel this warm feeling in the air, like some simmering tension. It wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact, it gave you the slight sensation of butterflies in your stomach.

Sieun sat next to you on the couch but not too close and you were both silent. You weren’t sure what to say or where to start. You had asked Sooho for help with confessing, but it would seem too abrupt to start with that. You wanted to warm up to Sieun first, though you weren’t sure how long you could wait before the words fell out of your mouth.

“Do you want a drink?” Sieun asked and you smiled. So Sooho wasn’t lying with that part.

“What are the options?”

“Uh…” He dropped his head, thinking for a second before running to the small fridge and pulling out a bottle of mango juice, “You like this… right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I do.”

Sieun’s lips turned up into the cutest smile you had ever seen in your entire life. You felt like you were floating on clouds from the elated feeling. You made him smile.

Once you had received a glass of mango juice, the conversation started flowing a bit easier. You talked about school and hobbies and your favourite foods. Though Sieun didn’t say much, you could tell he was always listening to what you were saying. That was a bit unusual to you. You were always used to being ignored or thought of as obnoxious when you talked, so you rarely felt comfortable saying what you wanted to. With Sieun, however, you felt like you could say anything and he would listen.

It was late in the night and Sieun was preparing a small dinner for you both. He had been overwhelmingly kind and considerate that you felt your will to not confess being slowly withered away. You were about to crack, you could feel it. As soon as he did one more thing to make your heart flutter, you would have to spill it otherwise you were sure you would explode.

Your resolve was finally broken while you were eating. You were sitting across from Sieun on the floor, food spread out as best as Sieun could make it. You had a small bit of sauce on the corner of your lip, and before you could notice yourself, Sieun had leaned across the table and wiped it off gently with his thumb.

Your cheeks flushed pink at the touch. You were lucky you didn’t have any food in your mouth otherwise you would’ve probably choked. You were stunned, staring at the boy in front of you. And then he smiled as if he was shy but happy to help. You could see his ears had turned pink at the tips, and then finally your mouth was spitting out words before your brain could catch up.

“I like you, Sieun.”

“I’m nervous I’ll do it wrong.” Sieun whispered, head dropped to look at the floor. You could see his cheeks a bright red and you were sure that your boyfriend was the cutest thing this world had ever created.

“You won’t be able to mess up cuddling, I promise.” You reassured him.

“But I’ve never done it before… What if-”

“You’ve hugged me before.” You cut him off. He nodded. He had hugged you, many many times. He wanted to hug you right now. “It’ll just be like a prolonged hug… except more relaxed.” You understood how the thought of cuddling could feel daunting for him. He had been touch-starved his entire life. “I’ll show you how it works, but… you need to come here first.” You giggled and patted the spot next to you on the bed.

Sieun’s face flushed more and he joined you carefully, scooting next to you. You grabbed his wrist and tugged him even closer to you, “It’s hard to cuddle when there's a gap between us.” You explained with a smile.

You decided it would be best to make the first move, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek on his chest. He was even more comfortable than you could’ve imagined, and you wondered why you hadn’t done this before. He smelled clean and calming, your nerves instantly becoming soothed by being so close to him.

He had tensed up at first, not sure how to respond and hyper aware of how fast his heart was beating. You were so pretty and the fact that you were hugging him so closely? Sieun would probably never recover. He figured that wrapping his arm around your shoulder would be natural, and he soon discovered that the position was 10 times more comfortable that way as you snuggled even closer to him.

“Your heart is beating so fast… Nervous?” You mumbled, peering up at him with a small teasing smile.

“Yeah…”

“Me too.” You whispered, a smile growing as you could feel both your hearts beating at the same fast rate.

Sieun was an excellent cuddler, he just didn’t realise it. He naturally started rubbing your arm in a soothing way until his hand travelled up to your hair and started playing with it. You were sure you would become addicted to cuddling him after this. Maybe you would ask him to cuddle with you everyday…

“Can I kiss you?” You asked suddenly. Sieun’s hand stopped playing with your hair.

“I… I’ve never-”

“I know. Me neither.” You said shyly, “It just… seemed like the right moment, but if you don’t-”

“I do. I really really do.” He said firmly and smiled a little. Your heart was already melted from the cuddles, but it was as good as evaporated at the sight of his smile.

“Okay.” You cupped his cheek cautiously before leaning in, not quite touching his lips, waiting for him to lean in as well. He pressed his lips to yours softly, timidly moving them in case you were uncomfortable or he was doing it wrong.

Sieun was an excellent kisser as well.

↳ k-drama taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair

1K notes View Post

l5byrinth

3 months ago

lost and found

hwang jun-ho x f!reader

the world is cruel, and you and the officer find out that it will get worse.

warnings: mentions of death! unfortunately, squid game is in this one. romantic tension. slow burn-ish. this takes place during season 1. junho being innocently stalker-ish. PTSD, stealing/theft, pre-established relationship, it gets spicy towards the end. platonic saebyeok x f!reader and platonic gi hun x f!reader too.

the city of seoul has never been kind to you.

it used to be, once upon a time. when you were young and did not know much, before the world decided to spit you out like something bitter and unwanted. back then, you were soft. you had this endless capacity to love, to forgive, to believe that people were good at their core.

maybe some still are, but you don’t care to look for them anymore. there was a time when your empathy was your greatest strength…when you saw someone struggling, you helped, even if it meant giving them the last bit of food in your pocket.

however, life has a way of chewing up people like you. people who give too much. people who don’t know when to stop bleeding for others.

so now, you don’t give.

you take.

survival in seoul isn’t kind to the softhearted. there are too many wolves in this city, too many people ready to step on your neck the moment you let your guard down. you learned that the hard way. so you adjusted, adapted. you became what you needed to be to live.

you steal, scam, and take what you need from those who won’t miss it. not too much…never enough to bring too much attention to yourself or get charged for the felony equivalent in south korea. you only steal enough to survive. enough to make it another day.

your hands are quick, your mind sharper. you’ve learned how to slip through the cracks of the world, how to turn your heart into steel since nobody else ever cared about you.

some nights, when the neon lights of hongdae reflect against the pavement and the city hums with life, you sit alone and wonder if there’s a way out of this. the party life is just right outside of your apartment.

sometimes you wonder if there’s a light waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.

each time, the answer is the same.

no.

there is no light. there is only the dark tunnel.

in seoul, it’s late, the air thick with the scent of soju and grilled meat, laughter spilling out from the bars lining the street. the party district of hongdae is alive, especially tonight since college students go back to school tommorow.

the sidewalks are crammed with people stumbling between clubs, couples clinging to each other, groups of friends taking drunken selfies under the flickering streetlights. it’s an easy place to disappear into, a perfect hunting ground for someone like you.

you spot the redhead almost immediately.

she looks around your age, maybe a little older. the woman’s purse hangs loosely over her shoulder, the zipper half-open, a bunch of 50,000 won bills peeking out.

that girl is too careless. too trusting, too stupid. your fingers twitch. you don’t hesitate. you step forward, close enough to brush past her, then your hand snatches the purse in one swift motion.

“hey!” she yelps, whirling around, reaching for you. the girl’s fingers graze your sleeve, but you’re faster. you yank the purse away, shoving her back hard. she stumbles, hitting the pavement with a startled cry.

you don’t feel anything. not guilt, not regret. you feel just the rush of adrenaline as you clutch the stolen bag tighter and start to run off.

then…

“hey, stop!”

your head snaps behind.

a police officer.

the voice of authority cuts through the noise of the crowd, sharp and commanding. your eyes lock onto him for a split second…a man with dark hair, strong jaw, eyes locked onto you with unwavering determination.

fuck.

you don’t hesitate. your feet move before your mind can catch up, body twisting as you bolt into the crowd. the bag is clutched tight in your arms as you weave through bodies, heart slamming against your ribs. behind you, the officer is still yelling, shoving past people, chasing you.

it’s a long run. too long. your lungs burn, your legs scream in protest, but you can’t stop. not now. you need this money to survive and cannot spend a night in a cold cell, not again at least.

the streets blur as you sprint, twisting through alleyways, slipping through groups of people too drunk to notice you. the officer is persistent, but so are you.

the desperation makes you faster in way.

left. right. through a narrow gap between two buildings. past a food stall. over a railing. you smacked into a few people but most of them mainly found entertainment in the whole thing. the police officer being frustrated that they didn’t catch you for him.

you can still hear his feet running behind you, but the distance is growing. he’s good, but you’re better. you have to be.

finally, finally, you see an opening…a narrow alley packed with people, bodies pressed together in drunken laughter. you push into the throng, squeezing between them, head down, moving fast.

the moment you’re inside the mass of people, you twist, slipping out the other side.

the officer doesn’t make it through in time.

you could swear that you heard him swear, then nothing.

you keep running until you’re sure he’s gone, until your lungs burn and your vision blurs.

back in the alley, hwang jun-ho stands at the edge of the crowd, hands on his knees, breathing hard. frustration twists in his chest.

he catches everyone, but not you tonight.

not this time.

just a few blocks away, you just linger among the party crowd. you don’t go home immediately since that would be stupid. instead, you just take a long, winding path through backstreets and alleyways, making sure no one is following you.

only when you’re certain that you’ve shaken off any lingering attention do you head back to your apartment.

your door has two locks, and you slide the security bar into place before exhaling. safe.

the stolen purse hits your kitchen island with a dull thud. you waste no time, unzipping it and dumping everything out onto the table.

a fenty lip gloss, used and sticky. gross. a single tampon, the woman could’ve kept that.

a metro card..you toss it straight into the trash since it's too risky and can be tracked.

then, jackpot.

there were identification cards which were meaningless to you. the thick wad of cash though? that’s everything. you grab the bills, hands steady as you start counting. 10,000 won, 50,000 won, 100,000 won… when you’re finished, the total stands at 1,200,000 won.

this isn’t just a good night. this is security. rent for next month, covered. a few days inside, hidden, making sure that officer doesn’t recognize you.

you let out a slow breath. for now, you’re safe.

well, only for three days because now the cold steel of the chair digs into your back as you slouch against it, wrists resting lazily in your lap, the handcuffs cold against your skin. the precinct smells of burnt coffee and old papers, fluorescent lights humming above you.

you had a few days of peace before the cops knocked on your door, telling you that you had to go down to the station. they know you by name now, not bothering to go an extra mile since you never change the signature of your crimes.

the only reason you’re not behind bars is because the girl you robbed doesn’t even live here. she already went back to her home in the UK according to the officer. so, fortunately, you just get another warning.

you should be relieved, maybe even grateful, but you don’t feel anything. nothing at all.

across from you, leaning against the edge of the desk with arms crossed, is the officer who chased you that night. hwang jun-ho is his name.

he is pissing you off. not for being a pig, but you hate that he looks good in the dim light, hate the sharp angles of his face, the slight furrow in his brow as he watches you like you’re some puzzle he can’t quite solve.

you’re used to police officers looking at you with disgust, with judgment, but there’s something different in his gaze. curiosity.

“so,” he finally speaks, his voice even.

“you’re fast.”

you shrug.

“what can i say?”

he tilts his head slightly, gaze sweeping over you in assessment.

“you play sports?”

you exhale sharply through your nose, a ghost of a laugh.

“that’s not important.”

jun-ho smirks, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears.

“fair.”

he steps away, pacing to the side as he flips through a thin file…yours, probably. your name, your face, your crimes reduced to black ink on paper. you wonder how much of your life is in there, if they know more than just your record.

“you’ve been warned before,” he says, flipping a page.

“a few times, actually. shoplifting. scams. pickpocketing.” he closes the file and meets your gaze. “but no felony charges.”

“guess i’m lucky,” you say, leaning back, feigning boredom.

“not luck,” jun-ho corrects, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“just smart enough to not take it too far.” he tilts his head slightly.

you say nothing, looking away.

“give back the purse.”

you reach your cuffed hands under the table, grabbing the bag and tossing it onto the desk between you. the leather is slightly worn from the days you’ve had it, but nothing else is out of place.

jun-ho watches you carefully, then sighs.

“the money.”

you don’t move.

the money is in your safe, in your bedroom walls, at home.

the money you refuse to give back.

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he expected this.

“of course.”

you let the silence settle between you, waiting for whatever lecture is coming, but he doesn’t scold you. instead, he leans in just slightly, dropping his voice.

“i’m keeping an eye on you.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“right. cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

jun-ho doesn’t react, his face unreadable.

“considering this isn’t your first warning? yeah. i don’t.”

you push back in your chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor.

“well, officer,” you say, tone sharp with sarcasm, “i look forward to our next meeting.”

jun-ho watches as you’re escorted out, his eyes following you even as you disappear down the hall.

weeks pass and you try to forget about the encounter, about the way his voice sounded when he said your name, about the way his dark eyes studied you like you were something worth understanding.

you try to focus on surviving.

you get a job… a shitty one, but one that pays enough to keep you afloat for now.

every now and then, when you step into a small café for breakfast, when you walk through the streets at night, when you’re with your only friend sae-byeok whispering about her crimes… he’s there.

jun-ho is never too far away, usually across the street or on the other side of a park.

he never does anything and he never speaks, but you see him, leaning against a wall, pretending to be busy with his phone, pretending to be on patrol.

however, his eyes will always follow you.

one evening, you and sae-byeok finish a quick meal at a convenience store, standing outside by the flickering neon lights. she shoves her hands into her pockets, giving you a knowing look.

“that asshole is staring again.”

you sigh, glancing over.

jun-ho stands across the street, pretending he’s not looking directly at you.

sae-byeok chuckles under her breath.

“he’s obsessed with you.”

“he’s a cop,” you mutter.

“it’s his job to be annoying.”

she nudges your arm.

“you should go say hi.”

“and what? tell him to fuck off?”

she grins.

“exactly.”

you roll your eyes, watching as she walks off.

once she’s gone, you take a deep breath and cross the street, closing the distance between you and jun-ho.

he looks up as you approach, not surprised.

“you’re a creep,” you say flatly.

jun-ho exhales through his nose, barely amused.

“you’re a criminal.”

“not anymore.”

his brows lift slightly.

“really?”

“yeah,” you say, crossing your arms.

“i found a job. so get off my back. i’m not stealing anymore.”

jun-ho hums, unconvinced.

“that’s a trend for you.”

you glare at him.

“what?”

he shrugs, “you get a job, hate the pay, then go back to stealing… sometimes from the same place you work at.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “you need a better hobby, i cannot live in your head rent free.”

“i have one,” he says, avoiding what you said last.

“i’m just doing my job.”

you shake your head, stepping back. “whatever,” you mutter, turning on your heel and walking off. you know he won’t follow. he never does but somehow he’s always close.

overtime, maybe a week or so.. jun-ho never thought that he’d be the type of cop to get overly invested. not really. working for the police is his job…catching criminals, chasing leads, dealing with lowlifes who made their money through terrible means. he never let himself get too curious, never let himself care too much to where it affected his personal life.

however, you, you are a puzzle he can’t help but try to solve.

at first, it was just an annoyance. you had slipped through his fingers that night in hongdae, and that bruised his ego. he didn’t lose people, but somehow, you had outrun him. a girl whos shorter than him.

when he finally caught you, he had expected to feel satisfaction, but it never came because instead, he just felt intrigued.

now, you’re barely doing anything wrong. you’ve stayed out of trouble for a while, and he should be relieved. he should be happy. instead, he finds himself watching and observing because despite all the things you’ve done, despite the walls you keep up, there are cracks in that mask of yours… ones he never expected to see.

he sees it in the way you linger at the local market, the way your fingers brush over fresh fruit before you tuck them carefully into a paper bag, paying with what little money you have. he wonders why you never steal from here, why the vendors greet you with small nods instead of suspicion.

junho sees it in the alley behind the convenience store, where stray cats weave between your ankles, tails flicking in contentment as you crouch down to feed them scraps of tuna and unseasoned chicken.

you don’t talk to them, don’t coo at them like most people would… but your hands are gentle, your touch careful, as if you’re afraid of breaking something fragile.

then, there’s the lemonade stand thing that happened yesterday afternoon.

jun-ho didn’t even mean to see it. he’s just in the police car, just patrolling, when he spots you across the street. there’s a kid that sis no older than ten standing behind a makeshift stand with a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of plastic cups.

the sign is messy, written in thick, uneven strokes. 1,000 won per cup!

he watches as you pause, as you reach into your pocket, pulling out a crumpled bill.

you hand it to the boy.

you don’t take the over-sweetened lemonade. you just shove your hands in your pockets and walk away before the kid can even thank you.

jun-ho doesn’t know why that bothers him so much.

maybe it’s because it doesn’t fit the version of you he’s built in his head. the version that’s cold, calculating, selfish, and greedy. that version is wrong, isn’t it? a selfish person wouldn’t waste their own money on a kid just trying to make some change.

a selfish person wouldn’t play with stray cats or make sure to buy expensive fruit instead of stealing it.

he doesn’t know what your story is, but he’s starting to understand that you are not heartless. reckless? yes. irresponsible? absolutely. not cruel. not fully empty like you try to seem.

that fact is becoming his problem.

he’s read your file. he knows more than he should. your past, the childhood neglect, the system that failed you over and over again. he’s seen it before with people turning bitter, turning desperate, because the world gave them nothing and expected them to make do.

he’s a police officer, not a superhero. he can’t fix that or fix you.

junho wishes you would just stop making stupid decisions. maybe if you did, maybe if you found a way out of this cycle.

maybe then, he could approach you differently.

maybe then, he wouldn’t just be watching.

see, you’re not stupid.

jun-ho might be a good cop, but he’s a shit liar.

he acts like he’s patrolling, like he’s just doing his job. you know better. he’s watching you nd keeping tabs on you. the man is always near, always somewhere in the background. does he have a wife? kids? maybe not, he is still on the younger side. maybe just five to seven years older than you. its clear that he is single with too much freetime.

maybe if you were the same person you were five years ago, soft, trusting, and hopeful, you would have been creeped out, even scared that a police officer was suspicious of you.

now, it just makes you feel something you don’t want to name.

you know you haven’t stolen in weeks. you haven’t picked a pocket, scammed a dumb drunk, or lifted a wallet off a distracted tourist. that 1,200,000 won is keeping you stable… at least for now. long enough, hopefully, until jun-ho gets bored and moves on.

lately, the thought of him moving on, of him not watching you anymore, makes your chest feel tight because no one notices you. no one ever has in the large city of seoul.

your only friend, sae-byeok, even disappeared at times.

throughout your whole life, you’ve been invisible to the people who should’ve cared, to the world that chewed you up and spat you out, to the strangers who walk past you every day without a second glance.

jun-ho, that damn police officer, he sees you. even if he’s just doing it because he thinks you’ll screw up again, even if it’s nothing but routine for him, it still means something.

that pisses you off.

he’s annoying because he’s too attractive for his own good, because he gets under your skin in a way no one else does or has ever had.

so when you spot him across the street, writing up some guy for speeding, you don’t think and you just move.

you stand a few feet away and wait until he’s finished, watching as he hands over the ticket with that same unimpressed expression he always wears. when the guy finally drives off in frustration, you step forward, hands in your pockets, your voice laced with teasing amusement.

“well, it looks like you finally found something else to do besides watching me.”

jun-ho doesn’t even look surprised. just rolls his eyes as he slips his notepad back into his jacket.

“trust me, you’re not that interesting.”

you smirk.

“oh, really? then why are you always around?”

he exhales sharply, shaking his head.

“coincidence.”

“bullshit.”

he huffs a laugh, crossing his arms.

“you’re awfully confident for someone who’s one mistake away from getting arrested.”

you tilt your head, stepping a little closer, just enough to make it personal.

“i haven’t stolen in weeks. you know that. so what’s your excuse, officer?”

jun-ho says nothing, just looks at you, unreadable. for a second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes… something not quite irritation, not quite amusement.

then he sighs, “go home, y/n. it's getting late.”

you grin, ignoring the way his voice sounds when he says your name.

“whatever you say, officer.”

you step back, turning on your heel, but before you walk away, you glance over your shoulder.

“see you tomorrow.”

jun-ho doesn’t respond, but you don’t need him to because you both know the truth. i mean there were no plans but he is never too far away from you.

not even an hour later in the subway, you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, fingers gripping the red square piece of paper between your thumb and index finger.

your palms sting, and faint imprints of the salesman’s hand still tingling against the skin on your face. the bastard had slapped you twice, only twice, but your pride felt more bruised than your face.

you should’ve walked away from the salesman who sat down next to you, you should’ve kept your head down, taken your money from the last round, and gone home. the moment he laughed at you, and told you that him and his “organization” knew everything about you, you knew that this was no coincidence.

the salesman had handed you a small card before leaving the station, something he implied that would change your life. it was thin, a little worn at the edges, the symbols on the front simple but strange: a circle, a triangle, a square.

you flip it over.

a phone number.

“call when you’re ready for your chance,” the man had said, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.

you stare at the numbers, tapping the card against your palm as the subway car sways gently beneath your feet.

something about it feels off. it’s too mysterious, too cryptic… but the promise of financial freedom? of something bigger?

you need that.

you close your eyes briefly, exhaling through your nose. you don’t know why, but in the back of your mind, you wish jun-ho had been there.

not to stop you, necessarily… but just to be there.

if he had been, maybe he would’ve told you to be careful. maybe he would’ve pulled you away from the salesman, away from whatever this was, away from another stupid decision.

however, jun-ho has his own problems.

across the city, jun-ho exhales sharply, staring at the thin card between his fingers. little did you know, he did have a life outside of work. junho’s mind is elsewhere, swirling with frustration, worry, and a growing sense of unease.

inho, his older brother, his only family besides his mom, has been missing for weeks.

no leads. no clues. just gone. until now.

the man in front of him.. gi-hun, scruffy, desperate, looking defeated, tells junho that he made up a lie at the police station. a lie about a card that junho saw on his brother’s desk.

“where did you get this?” jun-ho asks, his voice steady but demanding.

jun-ho remembers the card. a circle. triangle. square.

inho had this same card in his apartment before he vanished.

when gihun walks away, junho lets him but he does not give up.

meanwhile, you sit in the subway car, flipping the card between your fingers, picking on the inside of your cheek with your teeth.

a few nights later, jun-ho knows that he shouldn’t be here outside.

it’s past midnight, and he should be going home after his shift, should be focusing on his brother, should be figuring out why gi-hun is connected to all of this. however, when he spots gi-hun walking down the empty street, he moves on instinct, following from a safe distance.

the thing is that he doesn’t expect to see you but there you are passing gi hun on the block, keeping your head down while walking down the quiet street.

you don’t see junho. you’re too busy walking, hands deep in your pockets, shoulders tense. at first, he assumes the worst… that you’re about to do something stupid, that you’re going back to your old habits, that you’ll make him chase you again.

he should leave you alone but junho can’t so he detours, shadowing you instead.

but then, you stop.

jun-ho narrows his eyes, staying low behind a parked car. you stand outside a small park, unmoving. your hands tighten in your pockets, and for a moment, it almost looks like you’re hesitating and then the van pulls up.

jun-ho stiffens, watching as you glance up, exhaling a breath before stepping forward. the door slides open and you climb in. three seconds later, smoke fills up the van’s windows. a thick, white, flooding the air.

jun-ho’s heart pounds. he watches as the van lingers for only a few seconds before pulling away, disappearing down the street.

“the hell?” he mutters under his breath, immediately making his way back to his car. the officers hands grip the wheel tightly as he follows, keeping a careful distance, headlights off. the man’s mind races… who the hell were these people? did you know them? were you in danger?

the van slows down five blocks later and and jun-ho’s stomach drops.

gi-hun, standing with the same look you had.

the van door slides open again, the same cloud of smoke spilling out into the night air.

gi-hun stumbles, barely reacting before he collapses, his body slumping forward.

jun-ho grips the steering wheel tighter, his jaw clenching.

this wasn’t just some underground scam.

this was something else, something big, and now, he had to protect two people.

one… a man who might be his only lead to his missing brother.

the other… a woman who had no idea what kind of hell she was walking into.

three days later, your body is stiff, motionless, even as your mind screams at you to run. that is because you don’t belong here. you never did.

the deaths, the endless and ruthless deaths, should’ve broken you by now. however, you refuse to let it show. you refuse to let anyone see that you’re barely keeping yourself together, that your heart threatens to claw its way out of your chest every time a gunshot echoes through the air.

sae-byeok notices, though. she always does.

she ended up in these games. she is player 067, and you are player 404. luckily, sae byeok stays close, her presence grounding you, keeping you from slipping too far into your own head. you’ve survived red light, green light. you’ve survived dalgona, but surviving isn’t the same as living.

you exhale slowly, fists clenched as the guards flood into the dorms due to some sort of situation. their guns are raised, black masks concealing their faces. your eyes flick to sae-byeok, who remains perfectly still, her expression unreadable.

beside you, gi-hun tenses.

a guard steps forward, voice sharp.

“do you know any player by the name of hwang in-ho?”

gi-hun shakes his head.

“no.”

“w-we don’t use our names in here.”

he continues,

however, your breath hitches, barely audible.

because that voice…

you turn your head, scanning the line of guards, your heart pounding against your ribs.

it’s stupid. so stupid.

you’re being paranoid. you’re in survival mode, and your mind is playing tricks on you.

jun-ho is not here.

for a second, just a second, your eyes lock onto the guard that was behind you. somehow, the guard doesn’t look away.

your throat tightens but it’s impossible.

stop thinking about jun-ho all the time. he is not here.

you force yourself to clear your thoughts, shaking your head slightly before looking away, pretending the moment never happened.

the guards stay for a few more minutes, checking something… you don’t know what, don’t care what… before they leave.

however, you sit back down in exhaustion, hoping to get out of here soon.

three more days go by and the air is thick with the stench of blood and rain.

your fingers twitch, your breathing shallow, but all you can do is stare. sang-woo’s body lies motionless in front of you, crimson pooling beneath him. dead. you should feel something. anything. relief, maybe. satisfaction. however, all you feel is rage. burning, searing rage.

sae-byeok should be here. sangwoo killed sae-byeok just a few hours before this moment.

sae-byeok should be standing beside you, should be breathing, should be alive.

the only person in your life is now gone.

now it’s just you and gi-hun.

you tighten your fists, nails digging into your palms as the finality of it all crashes down on you like a tidal wave. you won. you and gi-hun are the last ones standing. it doesn’t feel like a victory though, it feels like a punishment.

you don’t remember much after that.

it’s all a blur. the way the guards forced you into a van, blindfolded, hands tied. you barely even processed the moment they threw you back onto the cold pavement of the city, the impact sending a sharp ache through your ribs. you untie yourself quickly, fingers trembling slightly as you rip the blindfold off, blinking against the dim streetlights.

you’re back but not in those suffocating green jumpsuits, not in that godforsaken arena of death. you’re in your own clothes. the same ones you wore before stepping into that van all those days ago.

your breath comes out shaky as you pat yourself down, desperate for something, anything, that proves this wasn’t some fever dream, that you’re really standing here, that you made it out.

your fingers brush against something solid, metallic. your stomach twists. slowly, you pull it from your pocket. a gold card. your hands tremble as you stare at it. you already know what it means.

however, you have to see it with your own eyes.

you take off running, feet pounding against the pavement as you sprint to the nearest ATM.

your heart is hammering in your chest when you shove the card into the machine, barely able to keep your hands steady. the screen loads, the numbers processing.

your breath catches.

balance: 22.8 billion won.

you sway on your feet, gripping the edge of the ATM, fingers white-knuckled.

you made it. you’re free since there is no more stealing, no more running, no more waking up every day wondering if you’ll make it to the next.

you won.

why does it feel so fucking hollow?

why does the sight of those numbers on the screen make your stomach churn instead of settle?

why do you feel like you lost more than you won?

you exhale, stepping away from the ATM, forcing yourself to straighten.

you have to keep moving.

you have to act normal because the moment you let this break you, the moment you let the cracks widen, is the moment you really lose.

deep down, you know it.

things aren’t over yet.

more weeks go by and your apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. it’s the same. its the same same peeling wallpaper, same secondhand furniture, same dim lighting that flickers in the kitchen. however, you are different.

the streets outside are loud, too loud. car horns make you flinch, sudden shouts send ice down your spine, and every time you close your eyes, you see flashes of red. of green. of bodies hitting the ground. living in the city does not seem like a smart idea anymore.

however, you force yourself to settle back into your old routine. you buy fruit at the market. you feed the stray cats. you pretend everything is fine.

nothing is fine.

suddenly, a knock on your door brings back another old routine.

it’s light. soft.

you don’t flinch since it was so light but your heart pounds anyway.

you hesitate before opening the door, fingers gripping the handle tighter than necessary. when you see him standing there, alive, real, your breath catches in your throat.

jun-ho.

for a moment, you just stare.

your chest tightens, your throat burns, and you feel dangerously close to crying. for weeks, you’ve convinced yourself that he moved on. that he never noticed you were gone and that he forgot you. he’s here.

junho’s eyes scan your face carefully, like he’s checking to see if you’re really okay.

“can i come in?” his voice is softer than you remember.

you nod quickly, stepping aside.

he enters, his presence filling the small space as you shut the door behind him. he doesn’t move much, just stands there, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on you.

“tea?” you offer, voice hoarse.

“water’s fine if you have any.”

you pour him a glass, setting it down in front of him before sitting across from him at your small table. the silence stretches between you both as you sit down in front of him at your table.

the weight of everything presses down on your chest.

“i was there, too.”

you freeze at his words.

jun-ho exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“on the island. i followed gi-hun. i was looking for my missing brother.”

your stomach twists, you did not know this much information about junho.

“you know gi-hun?”

he nods.

“yeah. he led me there without realizing it.” he hesitates, eyes locking onto yours.

he didn’t speak for a moment as you looked at him with curiosity, is he okay? was he a player? why didn’t you see him? how didn’t he get caught?

“i pretending to be a guard. the circle one that you saw that day in the dorms. later on I got shot in my shoulder, but i am okay.”

junho reassures. yet, you are not reassured.

“i was looking out for you, too.”

your breath shudders.

he leans forward slightly.

“when i saw you get in that van, i—” he stops, jaw tightening.

“i thought i lost you.”

something inside you cracks.

you don’t know when the tears start. one second, you’re staring at him, trying to hold it together, and the next, your vision blurs, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. jun-ho doesn’t say anything, just watches, just listens, as everything you’ve been holding in breaks.

“i didn’t sign up for that,” you choke out, voice shaking.

“i thought— i thought it was just games. just money. i just wanted to be able to stop what i used to do.”

junho’s expression darkens, but he says nothing.

you shake your head, wiping at your face.

“they killed them. all of them. and i– i just stood there, i just..”

you gasp, a sob wrenching from your throat before you can stop it.

jun-ho moves before you can register it. one second, you’re falling apart and the next, his arms are around you, pulling you close.

you freeze since his warmth seeps into you, his steady breathing grounding you. junho’s grip is firm, solid, real. this is the first time since sae-byeok’s death that you don’t feel alone.

you clutch the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling tightly into the material as you let yourself feel. you cry for sae-byeok. for the people who didn’t make it. for the part of yourself that died on that island.

jun-ho holds you through all of it.

when your sobs quiet into shaky breaths, you whisper against his shoulder, “can you stay?”

he doesn’t hesitate.

“yeah,” he murmurs. “i’ll stay.”

he needs this just as much as you do.

when you finally pull back, your face is inches from his.

the officer’s hand lingers on your back, his breath warm against your cheek. junho’s eyes, dark, searching, soft, flicker down to your lips for only a second before meeting your gaze again.

your heart pounds, but this time, it’s not from fear.

the officer is now living with you, but he is different now.

something inside of him has shifted, cracked beyond repair.

after finding out that his own brother, the one he spent so long searching for, was the mastermind behind that place, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to his old life. to the force and to the law because what was the point?

this world was cruel but you already knew that.

he spends his days with you now. at first, it’s small things, late breakfasts, quiet conversations, accompanying each other to the store, sitting in the same room without speaking. suddenly, it becomes something more. something deeper because you grow close. too close.

neither of you say anything about it.

the tension between you simmers beneath the surface, heavy and waiting. it’s in the way jun-ho’s eyes linger on you when you’re not looking, in the way your fingers brush against his when you pass him something, in the way your body tenses whenever he gets too close, but you never pull away.

one night, it finally snaps.

you wake up crying.

your dreams, no, your memories, are suffocating. blood, screams, gunfire. your body shakes, your chest tightens, and you can’t breathe.

you force yourself out of bed, wiping your face as you shuffle toward the kitchen. maybe water will help. maybe the cold tile beneath your feet will ground you. however, as you step out into the hallway, you stop.

jun-ho stands in the hallway, shirt loose, hair messy, his face unreadable. it looks like he just step outside of his room as well.

he looks like he hasn’t slept.

“you okay?” his voice is rough, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

you nod. a lie.

he exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“couldn’t sleep.”

you swallow.

“me neither.”

silence.

suddenly, it snaps, something snaps.

you don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his lips are on yours.

it’s not soft. it’s not careful. it’s desperate.

junho’s hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you clutch onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. the man’s mouth moves against yours with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid to let go.

this tension, this thing between you, it’s been there for so long, even before the games. before the world burned around you and now, it’s finally boiling over.

jun-ho backs you up, step by step, until your back hits the doorframe of your bedroom. junho’s breath is hot against your lips, his hands firm on your hips.

you don’t stop him because you don’t want to stop him.

junho’s lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower, deeper, like he’s memorizing the way you taste. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his abs as you pull him closer, and closer.

he groans softly against your mouth, and something about the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

you don’t even realize that your door opened until he’s guiding you backward, at least until your knees hit the bed.

your heart pounds, your breath shaky as his lips trail along your jaw, down to your neck, his hands never leaving your body.

you close your eyes, letting yourself drown in him, in this, in everything.

with junho, you realized this is where your nightmare ends.

masterlist

319 notes View Post

l5byrinth

2 months ago

Together (not) Forever

Warnings - none

The sun was beginning to set over the devastated remains of Hyosan, casting long shadows across the abandoned school rooftop. It had a few days since the outbreak began, and survival had become your only priority. But amidst the chaos and despair, there had been one bright spot: Lee Cheongsan.

Cheongsan had been your rock, your anchor in a world that was falling apart. When everything else seemed hopeless, he was the one who kept you going. And somewhere along the way of navigating life and death, your friendship had blossomed into something deeper—something neither of you had anticipated but both of you clung to like a lifeline.

The problem was, you hadn’t told anyone.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed. Far from it. But the world you lived in now wasn’t exactly conducive to romance. Every day was a fight for survival, and you’d both agreed that keeping your relationship a secret was safer—at least for now. Still, it wasn’t easy pretending your heart didn’t skip a beat every time he looked at you, or that his touch didn’t send shivers down your spine.

Now, as you sat together on the cold concrete floor of the school, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. His face was streaked with blood, his hair disheveled, but to you, he’d never looked more perfect. He caught you staring and raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice low enough that the others, who were gathered a few feet away, couldn’t hear.

You shook your head, a smile of your own forming. “Nothing. Just... you.”

He chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours where it rested on the floor. The small gesture sent a spark of warmth through you, a moment of normalcy in a world that had none.

But that moment was shattered when Namra’s voice cut through the quiet. “What are you two whispering about?”

You and Cheongsan froze, your eyes darting to the group of survivors who were now looking your way. Namra’s expression was unreadable, but there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. Beside her, Suhyeok smirked, clearly sensing something was up.

“Nothing,” Cheongsan said quickly, too quickly. It was enough to make everyone suspicious.

“Oh, come on,” Suhyeok said, leaning back against the wall with a grin. “You two have been acting weird for days. What’s going on?”

“Weird?” you echoed, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably. Your voice wavered just enough to give you away, and Dae-su’s laughter boomed through the courtyard.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at the two of you. “You’re hiding something!”

“We’re not hiding anything,” Cheongsan said, but the way his ears turned red betrayed him. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him, and it took everything in you not to burst out laughing at how adorably flustered he looked.

“Oh, really?” Suhyeok said, his grin widening. “Because it sure seems like you are.”

Namra crossed her arms, her gaze flicking between you and Cheongsan. “You might as well tell us. It’s not like we have anything better to do right now.”

You sighed, realizing there was no way out of this. Cheongsan met your eyes, silently asking if you were okay with telling them. You gave him a small nod, and he took a deep breath before turning back to the group.

“Fine,” he said, his voice steady despite the blush still coloring his cheeks. “We’re... we’re together.”

The reaction was immediate. Suhyeok let out a loud, exaggerated “I knew it!” while Dae-su whooped and clapped his hands like he’d just won the lottery. Even Ji-min, who had been quietly picking at a piece of bread, looked up with wide eyes.

“Finally,” Suhyeok said, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I was starting to think you two would never admit it.”

“Wait,” Dae-su said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “How long has this been going on? Were you sneaking off for secret make-out sessions while we were fighting zombies?”

Your face burned, and you opened your mouth to protest, but Cheongsan beat you to it. “It’s not like that,” he said, though his defensive tone only made Dae-su laugh harder.

“Sure, sure,” Dae-su said, winking at you. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Despite the teasing, you could see the genuine happiness in their expressions. Even Namra’s usually stoic face had softened, a faint smile playing on her lips. For a brief moment, it felt like things were normal again, like you were just a group of teenagers hanging out after school instead of survivors in the middle of an apocalypse.

But the moment didn’t last. It never did.

60 notes View Post

l5byrinth

11 months ago

Can you please write a Niko omilana angst

AHHHHH TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST I HAD SM MOTIVATION WRITING IT 🩷🩷 HERE

3 notes View Post

l5byrinth

2 years ago