did you like no way out? and would you have preferred if l actually included characters from the walking dead into the fic?
l deliberately didn’t include names and left the other survivors really vague but l was just wondering if you would’ve liked direct interactions with them
oh also, would you guys like more content within that cross over lol
masterlist | kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | apocalypse/the walking dead au | season four prison era
synopsis: the prison is attacked, during the downfall you and sae-byeok get separated, both of you think the others gone
genre: angst, fluff, themes of death and minor gore. pov switches between sae and reader
wc: 7k
By midmorning, your hands are already stained with rust.
You’re halfway along the outer walkway, crouched in front of a stretch of fencing with a coil hanging on your shoulder and cutters digging into the back of your jeans. The section had started to loosen again overnight. The whole stretch has been a pain in the ass for days now.
You’re halfway through fixing the fence when Sae-byeok steals the cutters out of your hand.
You look up at her from where you’re crouched by the post. “Seriously?”
“You were taking too long.”
“No l wasn’t,” you huff, “I was making sure it was right.”
She glances down at the length of wire you’d been fighting with, then back at you. “Sure.”
The wind up on the walkway keeps tugging loose strands of hair across her face, she ignores it and crouches down beside you, hooking the wire through the post with quick hands. You stay where you are for a second just to be difficult, your shoulder bumping hers because there isn’t much room.
“It’s a fence,” you say, “It doesn’t need to be pretty.”
“It needs to hold,” she murmurs.
You give her a look, “mine would’ve held.”
She pulls the wire tight, braces it with one hand, then reaches blindly with the other until you put your palm against it to keep it steady. Her fingers slide over yours briefly before she twists the wire off neat and close.
“That,” she says, giving the post a testing shove, “will hold.”
You lean forward to inspect it, “looks the same to me.”
She gives you a flat look.
You shift your weight, moving closer towards her. “You know this whole repairman thing is kind of doing it for me.”
She pauses for a second, then a small laugh slips out before she can stop it. “Shut up.”
The yard below is busy, it’s become the new normal since the prison took in some of the Governor’s people.
You straighten up from the post and roll your shoulder. “How many more?”
She shades her eyes and looks along the stretch of fencing. “Three—maybe four.”
“That’s evil,” you mutter.
Her lips twitch slightly, “you’ll survive.”
“You don’t know that,” you sigh dramatically.
She hooks a finger in the back of your belt loop and gives it a small tug as she moves past you. “Come on.”
The walkway rattles faintly under your boots as you trail behind her. Somewhere down in the yard, somebody starts arguing loud enough for half the prison to hear it. Sae glances over the rail, expression unimpressed, but keeps walking.
At the next section, you drop into a crouch again and start unwinding the spare wire from around your shoulder. Sae stays standing beside you for a second, rifle hanging off one shoulder, one hand resting on the rail.
When you look up, you catch her watching you.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring again.”
Her lips twitch before her gaze shifts past the perimeter.
You follow her line of sight automatically, but from here it’s only the usual view. Road, trees and walkers crowding the outer edge.
Then someone shouts out from the watch tower.
It’s sharp enough to cut through the yard noise. You can’t make out the words from here, but there’s enough alarm in the voice to make heads turn.
Sae pushes off the railing.
You drop the wire and move to stand beside her, “what’s he saying?”
She doesn’t answer.
Another shout comes from the tower, louder this time. One of the men up there is leaning over the rail, arm outstretched, pointing hard toward the trees beyond the fence.
People in the yard are turning now, conversations stopping dead as a low and strange rumble starts to build through the air.
At first it’s faint enough to second guess, then it deepens.
The trees beyond the road begin to shake.
It’s not from the wind—something is moving through them, big enough to force branched aside.
Beside you, Sae goes completely still.
“What the hell is that?” someone calls from below.
The rumble grows louder. Dark metal flashes between the trunks for half a second, then disappears again.
One of the men down in the yard takes a couple quick steps forward, staring hard toward the tree line.
Then his face changes.
“Oh fuck,” he says, voice going high with disbelief. “That’s a tank—”
Then the first shell hits the outer wall.
The blast splits the air so hard it feels like it punches straight through your chest. The walkway bucks under your feet. Dust and chunks of concrete burst upward near the far side of the yard in a violent grey bloom, and for a second the whole prison seems to stop moving.
Your ears ring sharp and high.
You look back towards the trees just in time to see the front of the tank force its way through them. It doesn’t come through cleanly, it shoves through branches and thin trunks, crushing its own path wide enough to fit.
Then it hits the perimeter fence.
The chain-link doesn’t stand a chance. It folds inward with a scream of twisting metal, posts snapping and wire ripping loose as the whole section buckles under the weight of it.
The walkers packed against the outer fence spill through the breach almost instantly, tripping over bent wire and each other as they pour into the yard, drawn by the noise.
For a second all you can do is stare at the breach opening wider and wider, at the bodies coming through it, at the men moving behind the tank with guns already raised.
People scatter in every direction, grabbing weapons, running for cover, and dragging each other back from the spray of bullets as the Governor’s men fire straight into the prison.
Gunfire cracks back almost immediately from inside the yard, answering the wave of men pouring through the gap.
Sae’s hand clamps firmly around your arm, “come on.”
You run with her along the walkway, both of you half-crouched as more shots spray in from beyond the fence. Below you, people are flooding out of the lower blocks as others are getting taken out in the yard.
At the end of the walkway, you both drop behind a low wall. Sae leans up just enough to peer through the railing and survey the carnage below.
The lower block is starting to jam as people try pushing through all at once. Back out in the yard, the breach is only getting worse by the second.
You follow her line of sight and your stomach drops.
“Sae—”
“I know.”
Her hand finds yours and intertwines, pulling you close. For moment it’s clear you’re both thinking the same thing—stay together and don’t split up.
Then sharp and terrified screams erupts from below.
Her grip tightens around your hand as her breath catches. She stares ahead for a beat, jaw set, thinking.
Then she turns to you.
“Go to the south side,” she says, voice low and firm. “Help get the others out of the block.”
You stare at her with wide eyes, “what?!—no, we stay together.”
She inhales slowly, like she’s forcing herself to stay calm.
“Look,” she says, quieter this time, nodding toward the breach.
More walkers are forcing through, piling into the gap while the people closest to the fence try to hold a line that’s already overwhelmed.
“If that side folds, they’re all in the yard,” she says. Her eyes flicker down to the choke point where bodies are crushing together. “And if the lower block jams…they won’t get out in time.”
You shake your head, fast and desperate. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
She steps closer, her voice dropping under the noise. “You’re not leaving me,” she says, softer now. “You’re helping them…I’ll meet you there.”
Another blast hits somewhere nearby, the shouting growing.
You flinch at the impact.
Her hand shifts to your shoulder, steady and grounding. She turns you toward the stairs.
“Go,” she says. “I’ll be right behind you.”
You catch her wrist before she can pull away. “No—you come with me.”
Her eyes flick towards the smoke, gunfire, and the collapsing fence. “I’ll be there.”
You don’t let go, “you don’t know that.”
For a second she hesitates, then her grip softens and her thumb drags over your hand.
“I’ll find you,” she says, quieter. “Go.”
You hold her gaze for one more second, then turn and run for the cell blocks.
You hate yourself for it.
You hate leaving her there but if you stay and argue, you’ll just waste time that could get you both killed.
The lower block is still wedged by the time you get there. Bodies pack the corridor shoulder to shoulder, elbows and backs pressed tight, hands shoving for space.
A woman is struggling to drag two crying kids towards the back, one in each hand, both of them stumbling over people’s feet. The younger one nearly falls down but you catch him by the arm before he can hit the floor. You pull him close and steer all three of them through the crush.
That’s what the next few minutes turn into.
The front of the block is already too dangerous, so you start forcing people the other way—towards the rear hall, the back lot, and the gate if it can still be reached. You shout directions until your throat burns, grabbing shoulders, pointing, and shoving the ones who freeze.
The whole time, part of your mind keeps slipping back to Sae. Where she is, whether she made it to the fence line, and whether she’s safe.
Those thoughts are cut off when the side exit jams. You and two others throw your weight into it until the metal finally shrieks and gives. You brace it open with your boot and wave the group through, yelling for them to keep going, keep moving, get to the back gate.
Then a shell hits somewhere overhead and the lights die
The hallwya drops into a dim grey haze, lit only by the smoke-filtered daylight leaking through narrow windows high in the walls.
You keep going.
The plan is simple, get as many people as possible through the exit and into the back lot before that route closes too. Some of them are already making for the gate. Others are crouched behind walls and vehicles, trying to fire back or just stay alive long enough to make a run for it
You get the woman and the kids halfway across the lot before you turn back briefly, just in time to see the guard tower take a hit.
The impact punches into the base, and the whole structure jerks hard, like something’s ripped the legs out from under it. The metal frame twists, the top platform tipping sideways with a harsh, tearing screech.
For a second it just hangs there, barely holding.
Then it finally gives.
The tower drops in on itself, crashing into the yard in a violent collapse of steel and brick. Debris kicks up in a thick cloud, black smoke surging up with it as the wreckage slams down.
You stop dead.
Sae went towards the fence line—towards the tower.
For a moment, everything in you locks. You can’t move or breathe properly, you just stand there as the realisation slams into your chest hard and fast. Your eyes search the haze even though you know there’s no possible way you could see from here.
Smoke rolls over that whole section of the yard, swallowing it completely.
Someone slams into your shoulder, knocking you sideways and snapping you out of it.
“Move!”
Walkers are spilling into the back lot now, cutting straight across the path to the gate. The people closest to the exit fire at them, trying to keep that last exit point clear.
Bodies drop near the bus, and someone screams out for everyone to get back inside.
You grab the woman by the elbow and shove her and the kids towards a nearby storage building, pushing them through the side door with the others. Then you’re moving too, dragged along with the rush into the corridor beyond.
Even as you run, your head keeps turning back like you’ll might see Sae stumble through the door behind you.
Something slams into the outer wall, the impact jolting the hallways. Dust and grit spray through the air and you duck on instinct, coughing as hits your face.
Then the far end erupts.
Walkers pour into view and the crowd recoils all at once, shoving backwards, sideways, anywhere there’s space. Shots flash through the smoke, bullets bite chunks out of the wall beside your face.
You duck again, losing your footing for a second, then the pressure of the bodies sweep you off balance, and shove you into a narrow side service passage.
You know instantly it’s the wrong way, but there’s no room to fight it. People are still pressing in behind you, shoving everyone deeper into the corridor. Back in the main hall, the gunfire thins out as wet and hungry snarls grow louder.
Your heart hammers in your chest when the screams of those who were dragged down echo through the hallway.
Underneath the panic is a constant thought—if Sae’s still out there, she has no idea where you are.
The service passage cuts left and opens into a storage area. Busted shelving lines the walls, the cleaning supplies now scattered across the floor.
You spot a staircase at the end far end and shove your way through the cramped bodies, running for it.
But then a section of ceiling near the stairs collapses in an explosion of concrete and wire. You throw your arms over your head and stumbled back as it slams into the floor. The impact leaves your ears ringing.
Dust surges through the passage, blinding you.
When it clears just enough for you to see again, your stomach drops.
The route is gone
The bottom half of the stairwell is now buried under a jagged mound of broken concrete and twisted railing, clogging the whole end of the passage.
A high pitched whine still rings in your ears, but you can just make out the sound of the others footsteps pounding, running the opposite direction.
Dread washes over you as you stand there, chest heaving, staring at the ruins of your only way out.
A wet shuffling noise drags your attention back.
Walkers spill into the storage corridor behind you, drawn by the noise.
Theres not a lot at first—only two or three. But more stagger in, out numbering you.
You back up fast and stumble into the nearest room, slamming the door shut, and forcing the rusted latch into place just as a body hits the other side.
The room looks like some kind of old maintenance office. Filing cabinets line the walls, some drawers hang half open. The shelves sag under rotted binders and moulded paper. A metal desk sits shoved crooked in the corner.
The dead hit the door again—and again.
You lunge for the desk and drag it in front of the door, the metal screeches across the floor. The harsh sound makes your skin crawl.
The door takes another hit, heavy enough to rattle the frame.
For a beat you just stand there, chest heaving, staring at the blocked doorway, listening to the wet scrape of bodies on the other side.
All you can think about is that Sae is out there somewhere, maybe hurt and looking for you, thinking you made it through when you’re stuck in here like this.
Then you force yourself to move.
Your eyes sweep across the room for anything—a window, another door, a miracle.
You find nothing, just paper, rust and rot.
But then you spot a vent, sitting high on the wall.
Your heart’s already pounding by the time you drag a filing cabinet under it. You climb up fast, your hands slick and knees banging against the metal as you reach for the grate.
Up close, your stomach drops.
It’s screwed in place.
You grab the cover and yank at it anyways, but your fingers just slip. Behind you, more walkers pile outside the door and hammer against it, the latch gives a little shriek from the weight.
Your hands shake as you pull your knife out, jamming the tip under the edge and pry at the grate. The metal fights against you, bending with a high screech that makes your ears hurt.
You shove harder until a screw pops loose—then another.
You rip the cover off and stare into the dark, narrow space inside. It’s tight, maybe even too small, but it’s your only choice.
The door begins to bow as more weigh presses against it.
You don’t to think, you just haul yourself up and into the opening head first. The edges bite into your shoulders immediately and exposed screws scraping through fabric as you wriggle in.
The metal grinds into your elbows as you drag yourself forward. Your breathing turns loud and ragged in the tight space, and your heart hammers against your ribs.
Behind you, the prison lets out another deep groan, followed by a loud crash as the maintenance door finally gives.
You keep crawling until your elbows burn and your knees feel bruised raw, forcing yourself forward on nothing but pure adrenaline.
Then thin beams of light start to leak through another vent opening up ahead. Your pulse kicks and you push yourself even harder towards it.
──────────────────────
Sae stands there in the walkway for a second after telling you to go.
Just long enough to watch you disappear down the stairs into the lower block, one hand skimming the wall to keep your balance as the walkway shudders under another burst of gunfire. Then she turns back to the breach and makes herself stop looking for you.
The yard below is already falling apart.
The section of fence that the tank tore through is bent almost flat in places, the posts ripped out of the ground. Walkers are climbing over each other to get through, their rotted hands and faces catching in the twisted wire. The people closest to the opening are firing into the walkers, trying to keep as much space as they can.
Behind them, men are moving in beside the tank, using it for cover as they fire into the prison.
Sae drops down the last few steps two at a time and cuts right towards the breach.
Everything is too loud—the gunfire and screaming, the grind of the tank still forcing its way forward. Metal shrieks as the fencing and catwalk supports take hits they were never built to take.
She shoulders past two people trying to drag a wounded guy clear and drops behind a broken stretch of concrete wall. From there she can finally see how bad it is.
The prison isn’t holding, that much is obvious already. But people are still fighting, trying to buy everyone else enough time to get out.
A round cracks into the wall near her head.
She ducks instantly and moves lower, cutting behind a concrete divider near the base of the watchtower. Above her, the platform rattles under gunfire while people up top fire down into the attack.
A walker missing half its jaw stumbles towards her. She shoots it through the forehead and steps aside just as someone slams into the divider beside her.
It’s one of the others from the yard.
“They’re getting in from the west too!” he yells, out of breath.
She glances that way automatically, but there’s too much smoke to get a clear line of sight.
Her eyes flick towards the south side instead but it’s the same story, figures moving through the haze before vanishing behind walls.
She swallows hard before turning back and firing again.
She shoots down a couple men near the tank, but more fill the spot almost instantly, ducking behind the metal. Gunfire snaps over her head, spitting concrete chips into her cheek. She flinches but keeps shooting.
Someone yells that the lower blocks are overrun and the west yard is gone.
Sae doesn’t respond—she can’t, there’s too many things happening at once.
Then tower takes the hit before she even hears the shell coming.
One second she’s rising to fire, the next the base of the structure explodes outwards in a bloom of dust and broken concrete as the blast hits it. The impact hits hard, punching the air out her chest.
She throws herself aside instantly, scraping across the cement as debris spits past her.
The whole tower shudders, the steel shrieking as it bends under the strain. For a second the top section just hangs there, tilted slightly off balance like it might hold out. But then it drops.
The platform slams into the yard in a crashing storm of steel and concrete. It hits hard enough to kick the ground up under her. Dust and black smoke roll over everything, swallowing the yard in one bug wave.
Something hits her on the way down, clipping her shoulder and knocking her onto her back. The world flips for a second when she lands, the air punched out of her.
For a second she can’t hear or see properly, only able to make out shapes moving through the dust. She forces herself up with shaky arms and leans on her knees just as a length of railing slams down where her head had been.
When the smoke thins enough for the yard to come back into focus, the tower is gone.
Folded completely into itselfs in a heap of twisted steel and smashed cement, half of it’s still smoking from where it was hit. Bloodied bodies lie lifeless around it.
Sae drags herself up, coughing hard, pain tearing across her shoulder. Her left sleeve is ripped open at the seam. Warmth seeps down her arm, but it isn’t deep enough to stop her
Suddenly a walker lurches at her through the smoke, catching her off guard. But she instinctively drives her knife through its eye without thinking. Another reaches from the side, she shoves it off hard enough that it stumbles into the fallen metal and gets stuck there, arms still clawing through the bars.
Then she turns towards the south side, towards where you went.
And starts running.
She cuts along the inside wall, staying low where the smoke is thickest, then vaults a bent section of fencing that’s been knocked inward and heads for the south side entrance.
Halfway there, people start spilling back out the way you would’ve gone in.
“Back lot’s gone!” one of them shouts.
Sae stills for a second but quickly recovers, grabbing the closest guy by the jacket and slamming him against the wall hard.
“Lower block,” she says, “did people get out?”
He stares at her for a beat, stunned.
“Did they get out?!” she snaps.
He swallows, “some—some did, some got forced back inside—I don’t know.”
She exhales hard, shoves him off and keeps moving.
At the south side entrance, smoke is pouring out from under the door. The hallway beyond it echoes with gunshots, screaming and the dull thud of bodies hitting concrete.
Through the open stretch of doorway, she catches a glimpse of people being driven back from deeper in the block, shoving past one another.
“Sae-byeok!”
She whips around fast, heart kicking hard as hope flashes through her.
But it isn’t you.
It’s one of the women from the prison, her split lip and soot smeared across her face, waving people away from the entrance with panic written all over her.
Sae swallows it down and forces her focus back into place.
“Back lot?” she shouts.
The woman shakes her head fast, “cut off.”
“Storage side?”
The woman glances over Sae’s shoulder towards the doorway, breathing hard. “I think so—I don’t know!”
Sae’s jaw locks.
A burst of gunfire flashes from deeper in the hall and the crowd recoils. Bodies slam back into her hard, shoving her sideways. She drives her good shoulder into the wall to keep herself from going down.
If you got pushed further inside, you could be anywhere in there by now. Not just the main corridor, or the back lot—anywhere.
Her stomach tightens.
She can’t just stand in the doorway and wait for you to appear. But she also can’t force herself into that crush blindly and expect to come back out.
Another surge of bodies hits the entrance, people scream as bullets crack off the walls.
She backs off from the doorway and cuts around the outside instead.
The second she gets clears the corner, the scale of it all hits her.
The back lot is complete chaos. Vehicles sit abandoned, people crouch behind them firing desperately. Walkers are forcing in through the side opening. Someone’s managed to get one of the buses running, but it just sits there hopelessly, unable to move from amount of bodies packed around it.
Sae scans the whole area in a fast sweep, but still can’t see you anywhere.
Then she sees the storage building. The outer door’s banging open and shut as people fight their way through it.
She heads that way, avoiding the doorway and aiming to stick along the outside wall to look for another way out.
Halfway there, a bullet hits the brick near her face and sprays cement across her cheek. She jerks behind the nearest truck with her jaw clenched, then lifts her rifle over the hood and fires back.
By the time she moves again, two walkers have crossed the space between her and the building.
She kills one easily, but the second gets too close. It slams into her hard enough to make her stumble back. She catches herself and drives her knife up under its jaw, its rotten teeth inches from her hand.
She wrenches free, trying to catch her breath, and looks up just as the outer wall of the storage building takes a hit from the tank.
The whole side of it jumps. Windows burst outwards, sending dust and shattered glass across the yard. Sae throws an arm over her face to shield herself.
Inside the building, people are screaming.
The doorway disappears behind a rush of smoke and falling debris. People spill away from it, stumbling and coughing, trying to get clear.
Sae stands there for a beat, staring into it.
She knows she can’t go in.
The wall just took a direct hit, the corridor beyond the door is jammed shoulder to shoulder with people trying to push deeper or force their way back out, and fresh gunfire is cutting across the lot. If she goes in there now, she’ll get trapped and buried. Torn apart before she ever finds you.
A section of ceiling breaks loose from above and crashes down near the entrance.
She backs off, still searching every face that stumbles out through the smoke, but none of them are yours.
That’s when it finally hits her.
Her stomach hollows out so fast it makes her lightheaded. Her breath catches and her eyes sting before she can stop them. She blinks hard, furious at herself, but it doesn’t help.
For a few seconds she just stands there, openly unravelling.
“Fuck,” she breathes, voice shaking. “Fuck.”
Her mind fills with endless possibilities she can’t fight off.
You crushed under fallen debris, you getting dragged down and torn apart by walkers, you bleeding out somewhere nearby while she keeps searching in the wrong directions.
You dead while she’s stupid enough to think there’s still time.
She stares blankly for a second.
If you’re dead, she sent you there.
Her lungs lock up, and for a second all she can hear is her own pulsing pounding in her ears.
Then a walker lurches up behind her and grabs her sleeve. She reacts on instinct, slamming the butt of the rifle into its face, shoving it back and firing point-blank when it keeps moving.
The shot snaps her out of it just enough to move again.
A hand clamps onto the back of her jacket.
She spins with her rifle already halfway up before she sees it’s one of the others from the prison. His face is grey with soot, eyes wide, blood tracking down from his hairline.
“We have to go!” he shouts.
She jerks out of his grip, shaking her head. “Have you seen y/n?”
His eyes flick over her shoulder towards the collapsed wreckage. His mouth opens and closes like he wishes he had a different answer. “No, I didn’t. Sae—”
Another shot hits a vehicle nearby, shattering it’s windscreen.
“We’re leaving” he says, louder this time. “There’s nothing left here.”
A scream cuts from across the lot as a woman is dragged down near the buses, three walkers piling on her fast, tearing into her.
The man grabs her arm again, harder this time. “Sae!”
For a second she doesn’t move, her eyes stay fixed on the building like if she stares hard enough the smoke will part and you’ll come stumbling out alive.
She rips her gaze away.
Three more people from the group cut across the yard towards them, ducking low.
“The fence is open on the far side!” one of them shouts. “Come on!”
Sae looks back at the prison one more time.
The storage side is disappearing behind smoke. Walkers are spreading through the yard, turning towards any sound or movement.
Her stomach tightens.
Then she turns and runs with them.
They cut between abandoned vehicles, staying low as shots crack overhead. A walker stumbles into their path and Sae shoots it without slowing, then vaults a bent section of fencing with the others close behind her.
They reach the far side of the yard where the fence has been crushed down into the mud.
She doesn’t stop long enough to think about it, she just climbs over the fence and follows them into the trees.
Branches slap at her arms as they push through the brush. Her shoulder burns from where it was sliced earlier, drying blood keeps sticking to her sleeve. Her lungs burn with each breathe
No one talks for a while, there’s no room for it, not with the sound of the prion still leaking through the tree.
They don’t stop until the sounds of the prison thin out into muffled background noise. Even then, no one relaxed. They just slowed down enough to finally breathe.
One of the men bends over with his hands on his knees, coughing hard. Another kept watch with his rifle half raised, eyes on the tree line incase any walkers or people to come spilling out after them.
“We can’t stay out here in the open,” one of the women says, wiping soot off her cheek. “Not when it gets dark.”
“There’s that place out past the fields,” somebody else says. “That old packing farm, with the pecan trees.”
“Too exposed,” another muttered.
“It’s still better than staying out here.”
Sae stood a few feet apart from them, breathing through the ache in her shoulder.
The old packing shed.
She remembers the place, most in the group do. Its solid enough, better than staying on open ground.
One of the others looked at her, “Sae?”
She blinks once and forces herself back into the moment.
“Yeah—we go there,” she says.
No one argues, they start moving again, turning deeper through the trees toward the fields beyond.
Sae goes with them because there’s nothing else left to do.
She tries to fight off the relentless thoughts of you, if she does she’ll start unravelling, and there’s no time for that.
──────────────────────
When you finally reach the vent opening, your lungs burning and your arms on fire.
For a second you just lie there inside the shaft with your forehead pressed to the cold metal, trying to catch enough breath to keep going.
Then something crashes against the building hard enough to shake the duct under your chest.
Your heart kicks and you immediately shove at the cover. But it doesn’t move.
Your arms are shaking and your wrists have gone weak from hauling yourself through the vent. Panic builds when the metal only rattles in its frame. You shove again, harder this time.
The cover finally tears loose with a sharp snap and drops out of sight.
You flinch at the sound, your breath catching.
Then fresh air hits your face.
The vent sits high in the outside wall of the building, maybe sixish feet off the ground. It opens onto a narrow strip of dead grass between the wall and a sagging rear fence.
You don’t let yourself think about the drop, you just shove yourself forward before your body can hesitate.
You come out top first, your arms and head dropping into empty air before the rest of you follows. Your stomach lurches as you twist just enough not to land square on your face, but it still hurts. Your shoulder and hip hit first, then your knees, then your hands.
The impact completely knocks the air out of you.
You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth and stay down for a second. Then you eventually shift slightly, leaning your back against the brick wall.
For a second you just sit there panting, trying not to black out from the rush of adrenaline.
A scraping sound pulls your head up.
There’s a walker dragging itself along the rear fence, fingers catching in the wire as it stumbles forward. It must’ve heard the vent cover fall.
Its head lifts at the soft scrape of your boots shifting. Half its face hangs open on one side, skin pulled back exposing teeth.
You pull your knife out.
There’s no room to run. The strip behind the building is too tight, fenced in on one side and boxed by the wall on the other. So you wait until it gets close enough, then step out and drive your blade through its skull.
The body sags into you, you catch it by the collar and lower it the rest of the way so it doesn’t land too loud.
You push yourself up and move towards the edge of the building, keeping low until you can risk a look around the corner.
The rear lot is worse than before.
Smoke has completely swallowed the whole back section of the yard. The bus near the far end is burning at one side, flames climbing along the windows. Walkers move through the lot, turning their heads towards every sound.
Your grip tightens around the knife handle until your knuckles ache.
There’s nothing you can do from here, not without getting yourself killed.
So you pull back and go the other way instead, keeping close to the wall until you reach the rear fence.
A section of its peeled loose from one of the posts. Theres not much room, just enough of a gap where the wire has bent inward and sunk into the weeds.
You crouch, shove your knife into your waistband, and flatten onto your stomach.
The fence catches your jacket immediately, wire snagging and tearing a line down your sleeve before you finally clear it.
On the other side, the drainage ditch running around the prison has dried out to a shallow trench of cracked mud and weeds.
You slide into it and stay low.
Once you crouch down in it, the prison nearly disappears from view, leaving only the smoke drifting up over the edge.
You stay there for a second, bent low and breathing hard, trying to get your head straight.
Then you start moving. You follow the trench as it curves away from the prison in a wide bend, shielded by dead brush and tall grass gone yellow with the season.
The ditch eventually runs out into a rough strip of field bordered by trees and old fencing.
When you finally reach the tree line, your body gives out.
You brace one hand against a tree, bent over hard, dragging air into your lungs so fast it burns. Your ankle throbs, your elbows sting, your whole body shakes with leftover adrenaline.
Behind you, the prison is mostly hidden now. Just smoke above the rise and a dull stretch of noise carrying through the trees.
For a second you just stand there listening.
Then it hits you.
The way that whole section of the yard disappeared after the watch tower came down.
Collapsing directly where Sae had gone.
Your face screws up before you can stop it.
“No, no—” you say, the words barely more than whisper.
You press the heel of your hand hard against your mouth. Your chest gives a sharp hitch, then another. Suddenly you’re folding forward, one arm wrapped around your middle, crying into your palm.
For a few seconds you can’t think past that, can’t make your legs move, can’t do anything except stand there under the trees and cry because as far as you know, she’s dead and you left her there.
Eventually the worst of it eases enough for you to breathe without choking on it.
You drag a sleeve across your face and force your head up, eyes burning.
Standing here won’t change anything, so you swallow hard, wipe your face again, make yourself look around and actually think about what is out here.
Old roads and houses, places you’ve passed through before that weren’t already overrun or turned to shit.
Then you remember the packing farm.
You’d stopped there once with a few others when a storm rolled through. The ground had turned to sludge, and the cars couldn’t move so everyone ended up stranded there for the night just waiting it out.
It isn’t entirely safe, but it’s sturdier than most places this far out, and better than wandering until dark, hoping for the best.
It’s also the closest place you actually know, so you start heading that way.
The sun’s already starting to set by the time you find the narrow side track that leads to it. The air has gotten colder too, settling into your clothes, sending a shiver through you.
When the shed finally appears through the trees, it looks exactly like you remember—low and dark against the row of pecan trees, and the yard around it churned up.
You duck behind the rusted shell of an old truck and watch it for a long moment.
At first there nothing, no movement outside or through the windows.
Then you noticed the footprints.
They’re fresh, sunk deep into the ground along the side of the building. There’s more than one set
Your pulse kicks hard.
You still for a second longer, staring at them, trying to think past the thud of your heartbeat.
Whoever made those could still be here, and they could be dangerous.
You shift your grip on the knife and move.
You keep low, skirting the edge of the yard with one hand tight around the handle, listening hard as you move.
At the rear corner of the shed, you find two walkers laid out in the mud with fresh wounds punched clean through their heads.
Your breath catches slightly.
You edge closer a side entrance, breath held, and every step measured.
Then a voice carries from somewhere near the front.
You freeze.
Another voice answered, closer this time.
You slide forward just enough to look through the brush around the corner.
There are a handful of people spread out across the front side of the shed, weapons up, sweeping the tree line.
You struggle to make out faces through the brush, but then it finally clicks.
They’re from the prison.
And then you see her.
Sae-byeok’s walking near the back, a rifle slung over one shoulder, and her eyes cutting across the tree line with that same hard gaze she always wears.
The sight of her hits you so suddenly you forget to breathe. You just stay there frozen, crouched behind bush, eyes locked on her.
She’s alive.
Relief rolls through you so fast that it’s almost sickening.
You snap out of it and move without thinking. Your boot catches on a branch, cracking it loudly under your weight, and the bush besides you rustles harshly from the movement.
Immediately they all whip around, guns lifted and aiming straight at you. Sae turns with them, her movement sharp, rifle already raised halfway.
You drop your knife and quickly throw up both hands. “It’s me—”
Your voice cracks on the first try, throat raw from exhaustion.
You swallow and try again. “It’s me.”
For a few seconds, nobody moves. Then recognition spreads across their faces, the tension breaking as they lower their weapons.
But Sae doesn’t lower hers straight away.
She just stands there, staring at you like she doesn’t understand what she’s looking at. Then her grip begins to slowly loosen until the rifle slips free and hits the ground with a dull clatter.
Her mouth parts like she’s trying to speak, but nothing comes out.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so raw and shaken before.
You open your mouth to call out to her, but she’s already moving.
She crosses the distance like she’s afraid you’ll disappear again.
You instantly stumble forward to meet her.
When she reaches you, she pulls you in so hard it knocks the air out of you. Her arms lock tight around you, trembling against your back.
You fold into her instantly, fists twisting desperately in her shirt, and your face pressed into the side of her neck, breathing her in.
“You’re okay,” she says, voice raw.
“Yeah,” you manage, breathless, “yeah I’m okay.”
Her grip only tightens around you. One hand fists the back of your jacket, the other slides up and settles on the back of your neck, holding you there.
Behind her, the others don’t say anything. They just start moving again, drifting off and giving you both space.
She pulls back just enough to look at you, and her expression hits almost as hard as finding her did.
She looks wrecked and exhausted. Dirt clings to her skin, smeared across her jaw and temple. Theres dried blood at the edge of a cut on her chin, and her sleeve is stiff where it had bled through.
Her eyes moved over you quickly, checking everywhere at once.
“Are you hurt?” she asks, voice tight.
“A little, but nothing bad,” you say.
Her jaw tightens like she doesn’t believe you.
“I’m okay,” you add, softer this time.
She keeps staring at your face anyway, gaze fixed like if she looks away for even a second you’ll be gone again.
“I looked for you,” she says, the words come out rough.
Your throat tightens as your eyes begin to sting. For a second she doesn’t add anything, just keeps her hands on you like she’s trying to ground herself.
Then something painful flickers in her expression.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispers, eyes turning glossy.
You reach for her again, tears already slipping down your cheeks, and she lets you pull her in immediately. All that rigid control loosened just enough for you to feel the tremor that runs through her. She presses into you hard, forehead tucked against your neck, one hand twisting in the back of your shirt.
“I really thought you were dead,” she repeats, her voice breaking on the last word.
You hold her tighter, one hand lifting to grasp the back on her head, digging into her hair.
“l love you,” she whispers against your skin.
It hits you harder than anything else.
Your grip tightens instantly. “I love you too,” you get out, voice shaking.
Her breath shudders against your skin, and her arms pull tighter like she’s trying to make sure you’re still there.
For a while neither of you say anything else. The yard, the road and the trees all blur into nothing, even the distant footsteps from the others fade.
You just hold each other, arms locked tight, trying to make up for every second you thought you’d lost her.
okay sooo l kindaaa definitely changed a lot of the plot lol
i just wanted to make sure the fic didn't feel too jarringly placed within the twd universe
like l wanted them within the group, especially during the PEAK prison era. but l didn't wanna actually directly name any of twd characters
so l skipped all the group drama 🤷♀️ e.g. the lead up with hershel and rick negotiating blah blah blah
i also HEAVILY exaggerated and dramatised the battle. l needed more stakes for the story lol
anywaysss thank you for encouragement to make this random ass crossover and sorry it took so long 🥴
glad l posted this in time for the 2 remaining people on this tag lmao
synopsis: what started as an art assignment quickly grows into a small crush
genre: fluff, smut, very minor angst (sae's lowkey a little mean when teasing reader lol)
PART ONE
You haven’t seen her much this week.
Only once while passing through the courtyard. She was leaning against the side of a building, phone pressed to her ear, head lowered slightly while listening to the person on the other end.
The strap of her bag hung loose off one shoulder. A breeze pushed her hair across her cheek, but she didn’t brush it away. She didn’t seem to notice you.
You slowed a little when you spotted her, then decided not to say anything, just kept walking.
You’ve been spending more time in the studio anyways, building a new series for the next unit. Critiques are coming up, and you’d rather not get torn apart in front of the entire class.
This afternoon though, the space inside felt cramped, too many people, too many questions.
So you brought your sketchbook outside instead, claiming one of the tables near the front of the art building.
You’ve got your book open across the table as you try to work out the next part of your composition study.
You’re midway through spacing out the design when a familiar voice breaks your concentration.
“You live here?”
You look up, startled.
Sae-byeok’s standing beside the table, hands in her pockets, watching you with mild interest.
“Oh—hey.”
She steps closer, eyes dropping to your sketchbook. “Not me today?”
You shake your head, biting back a smile. “I do draw other things.”
“Hm.”
You clear your throat and gesture to the chair beside you, “you wanna sit?”
She hums again, dragging the chair out. “Do you always sit out here?”
“Sometimes,” you say, adjusting the page slightly. “Depends on the project…and whether I want to suffer inside.”
Her lips twitch.
She rests her elbow on the table, chin tilted slightly toward you.
“What else do you do?” she asks eventually, “when you’re not drawing the world to death.”
You exhale, scratching lightly at the corner of the page. “Uh… I don’t know, exist?”
She gives you a look, “that’s not an answer.”
You shrug, “I don’t know…sleep, stress, binge watch.”
She exhales through her nose lightly, “ a full schedule.”
“Yeah, I’m booked out,” you say, breathing out a laugh.
There’s a faint twitch at the edge of her mouth again.
Then her phone buzzes in her hoodie pocket. She glances down for a couple seconds, then back at you.
“You have your phone?” she asks, watching you.
You meet her gaze, “uh… yeah?”
“Give it.”
You pause, “…why?”
She leans back slightly, head tilted. “So you don’t have to wander around campus hoping you’ll bump into me.”
You freeze, heat flooding to your cheeks. “l haven’t—.”
“Phone,” she repeats, her lips curling faintly.
Your heart races as you pass it to her.
She types fast, saving her contact, then sends herself yours before giving it back. Your fingers brush briefly, and for a second she doesn’t pull away immediately.
You glance up, but she’s already looking at you, face unreadable.
“Thanks,” you murmur.
“Sure,” she says, her voice low.
She clears her throat lightly.
“I don’t like calls,” she says, “texting’s fine.”
You nod, “okay.”
She stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
She watches you for a moment, her eyes drifting over you before lifting again. “I’ve got class.”
You swallow, “right—okay.”
Her lip twitches slightly. er “See you,” she says, already turning.
──────────────────────
The next night you’re at the campus bar with Ji-yeong and a couple other friends. The music’s decent, and the lighting’s dim as you sip your second drink.
You’re laughing with the group when Ji-yeong suddenly bumps your shoulder
“Your muse is here,” she whispers.
You blink, “what—”
She jerks her head towards the pool tables, you turn following her gaze.
Sae-byeok’s there, her sleeves pushed up, and a beer in hand. She’s leaning against the side of a table, saying something to the guy besides her.
Your stomach flips
Ji-yeong grins, nudging you. “Go say hi—”
“—No.”
“She was watching you earlier,” Ji-yeong adds, grinning behind her glass.
You narrow your eyes at her. “l don’t believe you.”
She scoffs, “trust me, she was. When you weren’t looking,”
You stare at her blankly.
She laughs. “Also, she literally gave you her number.”
You roll your eyes, “so? she hasn’t texted me.”
She hums, sipping her drink. “Neither have you,” she adds after a beat. ”Coward.’
You glare at her as she starts laughing again.
You glance back over to the pool tables just in time for Sae-byeok to catch you gaze.
She looks you over for a moment, then turns to say something to the guy beside her before pushing off the table and walking over.
Your purse spikes as she crosses the room.
She stops in front of you, eyes scanning briefly over the table, then settling on you.
“Didn’t think this was your thing,” she says, face unreadable.
You swallow, “honestly didn’t think it was yours either.”
She exhales a short laugh.
“It isn’t,” she says, “I’m just tolerating it right now.”
Ji-yeong clears her throat suddenly. “We’re gonna go grab more drinks,” she says, dragging your friends away.
Now it’s just the two of you.
You glance at the bottle in her hand, “so, what’s the occasion?”
“Friend’s birthday,” she says, sliding her other hand into her pocket. “He dragged me here,” she adds, nodding vaguely towards her friend.
She watches you for a beat, “what are you working on right now?”
“You mean for class?”
She nods.
“Studio’s been busy,” you say, “we’ve moved onto composition, so it’s a lot of… boring stuff at the minute.”
She lip twitches, “that’s not a very strong pitch.”
You breath out a laugh, “yeah…my lecturer keeps asking what I’m trying to say with it.”
She hums, “and?”
“That I want to pass,” you shrug.
That earns a short laugh.
Her eyes flicker over you for a moment, then back up. “You still pretending I’m not your favourite subject?” shes asks, leaning in slightly.
You cough, taken off guard. “We’ve moved on from that unit.”
She tilts her head, watching you. “Shame.”
You open your mouth to respond, but the guy from earlier calls her name.
She glances back at him, then to you. “I’ll come find you later.”
Her gaze lingers over you for a second longer before she turns and walks away.
You stand there, stunned. Already replaying the conversation in your head.
A moment later, Ji-yeong returns grinning. “l could feel your gay panic from the bar.”
“Shut up, “ you say, whacking her lightly.
──────────────────────
By the following week, you’re behind on your visual diary and trying to catch up on a week’s worth of sketchbook entries between classes.
You end up in the library with your laptop open and earphones in, trying to review an old lecture on depth and tonal range.
Then your phone suddenly vibrates beside you, you reach out to check the screen.
Sae-byeok:
where r u?
You freeze, pulling an earbud out.
You:
in the library
She doesn’t respond right away.
You look back to your laptop, pausing the lecture. Your heart begins to race.
Then your phone lights up again.
Sae-byeok:
stay there
You sit up a little straighter, pushing your hair out of your face, suddenly hyper-aware of how exhausted you probably look.
You're trying to act casual when she shows up ten minutes later, sliding into the seat across from you without a word.
She drops her bag under the table and rests her arms on the surface, leaning forward to glance at your open tabs.
“Depth and tonal range,” she reads flatly, her eyes flick back to you. “Having fun?”
“Not in the slightest,” you mumble.
She exhales through her nose, the corners of her mouth tugging faintly.
She leans back slightly in her chair, arms folded loosely over her chest, her gaze not straying from your face.
“You behind?” she asks, after a beat.
You sigh, tapping the edge of your notebook. “is it that obvious?”
She shrugs, “a little.”
After a second, she nods towards your sketchbook. “Show me.”
You hesitate, “it’s just rough stuff.”
“So?”
Before you can respond she’s already pulling the sketchbook toward herself, flipping through a few pages with the same nonchalance she has about everything.
“Urban isolation?” she murmurs, skimming a page with a loosely rendered stairwell. “Fun.”
You snort softly, “it’s for studio.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, still looking at the page.
“What? you wanna watch me work?” you ask jokingly.
Her gaze lingers on the sketchbook before she looks back at you, “you watched me.”
The air between you shifts immediately..
She slides the sketchbook back across the table like she didn’t just knock the wind out of you.
You try to play it cool, resting your forearms on the table. “So you texted me just to come watch me suffer?”
“No,“ she leans back, mouth tugging at the corner. “I came to see you.”
Your brain blanks for a second, “oh.”
She watches you for a moment, like she’s waiting to see what you’ll do. Then she tilts her head slightly, “you busy tonight?”
You blink, “um—not really?”
“Good,” her mouth curves just a little, “wanna get out of here?”
You look up at her properly.
She’s watching you, face still unreadable, but there’s something sharper in her gaze now that making your stomach flip.
“…Where?” you ask.
She shrugs one shoulder, “somewhere quieter.”
You glance around the nearly silent library. “This is already pretty quiet.”
“Yeah,” she says, leaning back into her chair. “That’s not what I meant.”
Your breath catches again, “…right now?”
She shrugs, “unless you’re dying to finish that lecture.”
You hesitate, then shut your laptop with shaky hands. “Let me just pack up.”
──────────────────────
Her place is small. One of the older dorms on the west side of campus.
The room’s narrow, a single bed pushed against the wall, a desk by the window cluttered with notebooks and a hoodie draped over the chair.
You hover near the door, hands tightening around your bag strap.
She drops her bag on the floor and toes her boots off by the door, then glances back at you.
“You gonna stand there the whole time?”
You flush, stepping inside properly. “No—I just…”
She watches you for a moment, then takes a few slow steps forward, and tugs at the straps of your bag.
“You look nervous,” she says, her voice almost amused.
You try to laugh it off. “Should I be?”
She shrugs, eyes dropping to your mouth briefly.
“I don’t know,” she says, letting the strap fall from her fingers. “Depends what you think’s gonna happen.”
You look up at her, your breath catching slightly.
Her eyes scan your face, head tilting slightly like she’s studying you. “You always get this nervous?”
“I’m not—”
“You spent weeks drawing me,” she murmurs, cutting you off. “And now you’re shy?”
“I didn’t—"
“You sure about that?” she says, cocking her head.
She steps in closer, her fingers brushing lightly against your sleeve, then trailing to your waist.
“It’s fine,” she murmurs, “I don’t mind.”
She doesn’t move away, her hand settles on your hip. Her gaze never wandering from your face.
“You draw me like you’ve got a crush or something,” she says finally. “Why would I complain?”
That makes your heart kick harder.
She steps in a even closer. Her body doesn’t touch yours, but it’s close. Close enough to feel the tension buzzing in the air between you.
“You draw my hands too,” she adds quietly, her gaze dropping.
Heat pools low in your stomach.
Her fingers find the hem of your jacket, tracing along it like she’s thinking about undressing you, but is waiting to see if you’ll stop her.
You don’t.
She exhales slowly, her lips curling. “That mean you like them?”
You swallow, “I—”
Her lips press against yours before you can finish.
She kisses you slowly at first, her hand sliding around the back of your neck, holding you close. Your hands find her shoulders as you start to lean in.
Then she pulls back.
You chase her mouth before you even realise it.
She exhales an amused breath against your cheek.
“Shoes,” she murmurs, already tugging your jacket the rest of the way down.
You kick them off quickly. She pulls you forward by the front of your shirt and kisses you again, rougher this time.
Her hands slide under your shirt, her palms cool as they skate up your back, making you suck in a sharp breath.
Her lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, then slowly down the side of your neck. Each kiss sending another wave of goosebumps across your skin.
You don’t realise you’re backing up until the backs of your knees hit the bed, making you drop gently onto the edge of it.
She stops infront of you, watching you for a second. The room feeling too quiet as her eyes drag slowly over you.
Then she pulls her hoodie off in one smooth motion.
Her shirt rides up slightly as she tosses it aside, you look up at her dazed. Then she climbs onto your lap, her knees on either side of your thighs.
“You draw me a lot,” she mutters, lips brushing yours.
You try to speak, but she kisses the corner of your mouth first.
“It’s cute,” she says, her hands trailing along your waist. “Kinda pathetic. But cute.”
Your stomach flips, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”
She pulls back just enough to look at you properly
She smirks, “Yeah.”
Then she kisses you again, rougher this time. Her hands are already under your shirt again, pushing you back onto the mattress without breaking rhythm.
You gasp softly against her mouth as your back hits the sheets. She follows you down, sliding over you with deliberate control, one of her thighs slips between yours, pressing down just enough to make your head spin.
Her lips drag along your neck, then across your collarbone, down to the hem of your shirt.
She lifts it slowly, glancing up at you only once.
You nod.
She pulls it off and tosses it aside.
“Cute,” she murmurs, palm sliding flat across your stomach.
Her lips skim under your ear. “I like how much you want me.”
She pulls back, her eyes dark as her hand traces a lazy line down the centre of your stomach with her knuckles.
“You’d let me leave you like this, wouldn’t you?” she murmurs. “All worked up, nothing to show for it.”
You squirm under her, your breath hitching as her fingers press lightly between your legs.
“Sae,” you whisper.
She tilts her head, “you gonna ask nicely?”
You shut your eyes for a second, biting your lip, then meet her gaze again. “Please.”
She smiles faintly.
Then her hand sides under the waistband of your underwear. She slowly spreads you open with her fingers, dragging over your clit.
You gasp, hips twitching.
“So sensitive,” she murmurs.
You nod, breath shaky
Her lips brush your jaw, “I haven’t even done anything yet.”
Then she finally slips her fingers inside, her palm catching against your clit just right.
You gasp, back arching into her.
She drags her mouth down your neck again while her fingers moves with controlled patience, curling just enough to make your breath stutter.
Your legs fall open more, hips moving with her hand, trying to meet her rhythm.
You’re already breathless. “Fuck—Sae.”
She hums against your skin, lips brushing your sternum.
“Too much?”
You shake your head quickly, “no—please don’t stop.”
She smirks into your skin, “not plan to.”
Her hand keeps moving, fingers curling, palm dragging firm and slow across your clit.
She watches you fall apart like she’s studying you, like she’s seeing how long she can hold you just below the edge.
Your hips buck again, a soft moan escaping before you can muffle it.
She leans in, lips brushing your ear.
“You close?” she murmurs.
You nod, panting.
She smirks faintly, “yeah?”
“Y-yeah.”
Her eyes are dark, focused, watching every reaction.
Her palm presses firmer against your clit, her fingers moving deeper, curling just right.
Your body tightens, breath breaking as heat coils tighter and tighter in your stomach.
You come shuddering beneath her, biting your lip as your body arches into her hand, breath catching, every nerve lit up all at once.
She slows her hand, working you through it until you sag into the mattress, dazed and limp.
She watches you for a moment.
You’re still catching your breath when she reaches up, grabs your hand, and presses it against the opening of her jeans.
“My turn,” she says, a smirk growing on her lips. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it.”
yo
I reread the first part and I didn’t really like how l wrote it. l tried a new style with it and it just wasn’t the vibe lol
but I used my usual style for this one and l way preferred how it turned out
also l definitely bumped up the tension between sae and reader
synopsis: what started as an art assignment quickly grows into a small crush
genre: very minor angst, fluff
PART TWO
You’ve been sketching around campus since week one. Mainly because your drawing elective requires it, but also because sitting outside feels better than rotting in the library pretending to study.
You’re doing “observational studies” to help build your portfolio. So nearly every afternoon after class, you sit somewhere on campus and draw whatever’s in front of you.
Students hunched over textbooks.
Friends sprawled across the yard.
A dog tied to a bike rack outside the café.
You draw what’s there
One afternoon, you’re killing time before studio class, sitting against a brick wall with your ankles crossed and your book balanced over your knees. You’re halfway through a lazy sketch of a guy waiting at the bus stop when you see her.
Dark hair pulled back, faded black hoodie, a bag slung across one shoulder. She moves through the crowd like she hates being apart of it, like she’s got somewhere to be and everyone else is in the way.
Something about her pulls your attention
You move to a clean section of the page and start a rushed sketch. The loose strands slipping out of her ponytail, the shape of the shoulders, the sharp angle of her jaw.
She disappears into a building before you can get more than a few rough lines down.
You lean back, studying what little you managed to capture, wishing you had more time to properly finish it.
──────────────────────
You see her more often after that.
It’s not intentional— you’re not following her around like a stalker or something—but campus isn’t that big and schedules overlap. By the second week, you’ve accidentally learned her routines.
Mornings: she shortcuts through the courtyard.
Midday: she sits on the front steps to eat lunch.
Late afternoons: she lingers near the bike racks, scrolling on her phone.
You draw other people too, but you draw her the more.
You never approach her. She just becomes someone you notice…someone you can’t not notice. And without meaning to, drawings of her start multiplying.
──────────────────────
Later that day you’re in the campus café, nursing a drink that’s already gone cold. Your friend Ji-yeong’s going on about her tutorial group and how they’re not pulling their weight, but your attention drifts to the girl standing in line.
Same hoodie, same dark hair, same unimpressed expression.
You pull your sketchbook closer and start drawings—her shoulders, the tilt of her head as she checks her phone, the faint crease between her brows as she scans the menu.
“Are you listening?” Ji-yeong asks suddenly.
“Yeah,” you say, not looking up.
She hums, “you’re absolutely not but okay”
She follows your gaze, then giggles lightly. “Oh my god, it’s your muse.”
“She’s not my muse,” you mutter, “it’s for class.”
“Yeah class…right,” she leans closer, lowering her voice. “you’re definitely crushing.”
You flip the page immediately, “oh my god, shut up—finish your coffee.”
She laughs, grinning at you knowingly.
──────────────────────
A couple days later, you’re outside the library in your usual spot, tapping your pencil against the page while waiting for your next class. Your morning lecture ended early, so you’re killing time the only way you know how.
You start sketching the scene around you. Students feeding pigeons, someone arguing on the phone, textbooks that’re scattered across a table.
But then you see her.
She’s sitting at the bottom of the staircase, scrolling through her phone, a slight frown pulling at her mouth.
You hesitate, then turn to a fresh page.
Minutes pass by. You’re so focused on the drawing that you don’t notice she’s stood up.
A shadow falls across your sketchbook.
You look up.
She’s standing right in front of you.
“Are you drawing me?” she asks bluntly.
Your spine goes rigid, the pencil nearly slips out of your hand.
“I—I wasn’t trying to,” you rush out. “I mean, I wasn’t trying to be weird. I wasn’t—"
“You stare,” she says plainly.
Heat rushes to your face.
“And you draw when you stare,” she adds, nodding towards the page. “You’re not subtle.”
Your soul leaves your body.
“It’s for an assignment,” you blurt. “We’re supposed to draw people on campus—candid moments. You just… walk through here a lot.”
You want to die
“I’m promise I’m not trying to be a creep. I usually keep it random but you’re—” you stop yourself before you say something stupid.“—forget it, I’m sorry.”
She stares at you for a second, then drops her eyes to the sketchbook. “Let me see.”
Your chest tightens as you turn the page toward her. It’s rough, but unmistakably her. Rushed lines detail the shape of her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the slightly uneven fall of her hair.
She steps closer, studying it.
“You draw a lot of people?” she asks.
“Yeah all the time,” your fingers tighten on the edge of the paper. “You’re just…one of them.”
She gives you a look that says she doesn’t buy it, “you draw me a lot.”
You need someone to mercy kill you right now.
She looks at the sketch one more time, then steps back, hands sliding into her pockets. “You’re good,” she says simply.
You blink, “oh—thanks.”
She straightens, exhaling softly. “Next time,” she tilts her head, “ask.”
Your heart stutters, “…ask?”
“Yeah,” she gestures vaguely, “it’s less weird if l know.”
“You’d… let me?” you ask carefully.
She snorts softly, “you’re already doing it.”
You wince, “okay…I’ll ask.”
She nods once and walks away.
You sit there frozen, thinking that’s it—you’ll never see her again and you’ll have to live the rest of your life knowing that the coolest girl on campus caught you drawing her repeatedly like some crazy stalker.
Your phone buzzes.
Ji-yeong:
where r u hoe??
You:
outside the library
You:
bro omg I wanna die
──────────────────────
The next day, you’re in the library, slumped over your notes, trying to convince yourself you understand a chapter on composition theory. You rub your eyes, blinking at the same sentence for the fifth time, resisting the urge to just doodle in the margins.
A chair slides out across from you.
You jump, nearly knocking over your water bottle.
“Hi,” she says, dropping into the seat.
She places a textbook on the table, and pulls out a highlighter. “You have your sketchbook?”
You glance at it beside you, “oh—yeah?”
“Good,” she murmurs, flipping a page. “I’ve got ten minutes.”
It takes a second to process.
“You…want me to draw you…now?”
She doesn’t look up from the book, “I wouldn’t have sat here if I didn’t.”
You try to act normal, grabbing your sketchbook, opening to a fresh page.
Having permission feels strangely harder. You’re usually able to hide behind the idea of observation. But now she’s sitting directly across from you, and it’s extremely hard not to be hyper-aware of her presence.
She sits there reading quietly, a lock of hair falls over her cheek, her fingers tap the edge of the page.
You don’t go for extreme realism—there’s no time. Instead, you draw the line of her jaw, the soft shadow under her eyes, the way her lips press together when she concentrates.
“Do you usually ask people?” she asks after a couple minutes.
“No,” you admit, “most of them don’t notice.”
She hums, lifting her eyes to yours. “So why do you draw me?”
You hesitate.
It’s not that you don’t have an answer, It’s that they all feel a little too much when you imagine saying them out loud. You glance back at the page instead, pencil hovering.
“I don’t know,” you say finally, “l kept seeing you around. It wasn’t on purpose, you’re just…interesting.”
She looks up fully this time, eyes settling on you with that same unreadable gaze. She watches you for a beat, then drops her eyes back to the page.
“Mm—okay.”
You wait for her to press, but she doesn’t. She just continues reading, stopping to highlight a sentence, then flips to the next page.
You go back to drawing again, shading lightly, careful not to overdo it. You stop worrying about whether she’s watching you watch her.
After a while she closes the book. “Time’s up,” she says, eyes flicking to you. “Can l see?”
You nod, sliding it over. Your stomach flipping the whole time.
She pulls it towards herself, studying it with a sharp focus.
“It’s weird,” she says eventually, “seeing myself like this.”
“Weird bad?” you ask quietly.
“No.”
She hands it back, then pauses. “You haven’t asked for my name.”
You shrug weakly, “I didn’t wanna cross a line.”
She exhales softly, almost a laugh. “Kang Sae-byeok.”
You repeat it under your breath. “I’m—”
“I know,” she interrupts, nodding towards the inside cover of your sketchbook. “You sign your work.”
She checks her phone, and stands. “l have to go,” she says, gathering her things, “but I’ll see you around.”
She doesn’t wait for a response, just slips her backpack onto her shoulder, gives a small nod, then disappears down the aisle of books.
You stare at the empty chair for a long moment, then close your sketchbook and attempt to return your focus back to composition theory.
You’re almost finished getting ready for Ji-yeong’s birthday, when the bathroom door eases open behind you. Sae steps in quietly, her reflection appearing over your shoulder as she moves closer.
She doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you in the mirror with that unreadable look.
You keep your gaze on the mirror. “Don’t hover,” you mumble, blending out your blush.
“I’m not hovering,” she says, even though she’s already taking another step closer you.
You ignore her and lean in towards the mirror, checking to make sure your makeup looks right.
You want to look good tonight, you already know Ji-yeong’s gonna want photos.
You reach for your lipliner, checking the tip before bringing it to your mouth. The moment your hand lifts, Sae shifts forward, resting her palms on the edge of the sink on either side of you.
Her front brushes your back lightly as she leans in—just close enough to see your reflection properly. You feel the quiet exhale she lets out, her gaze following every small movement as you trace your lips.
She’s silent, but your staring is hard to ignore.
“What?” you mumble, blending the liner with your finger.
Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, “you’re going to have people staring at you all night.”
Your hand stills.
“Don’t start,” you say, trying to sound annoyed even though your pulse jumps.
She gives a small shrug and steps back a little, giving you space, but not really going far.
──────────────────────
Back in the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and slip on your stockings, smoothing them out as you go. You stand to fasten your skirt at your waist, adjusting the fabric slightly, then you carefully pull your top over your head.
Sae’s on her phone, checking something. But she looks up at the rustle of your clothes, her eye’s sweeping over you slowly.
She locks her phone and sets it aside, “that top’s new.”
“It’s not,” you say, reaching your bag, “—you just don’t notice my clothes unless they’re coming off.”
Her head dips a little as a small laugh escapes her, “l notice.”
“Sure you do,” you say, giving her a look as you slip the strap over your shoulder and check yourself in the mirror.
She watches the whole thing, her gaze following you until you turn to face her fully.
Ready?” she asks.
──────────────────────
The walk to the bar is breezy enough that you zip your coat all the way up, the usual city noise humming around you.
You pull it a little tighter, “we should’ve pre-gamed.”
She gives you a look.
You nudge her lightly, and her lips tug into that small, reluctant smile she gets when she’s trying to stay annoyed but can’t.
Turning a corner, she stops you infront of a convenience store. “Grab something you can actually handle.”
“I can handle my drinks,” you protest.
She doesn’t bother responding, just pushes the door open and walks in. You follow, brushing her hand as you pass, her fingers curl around yours for a quick, teasing squeeze.
You pick something stronger than you probably should, and she grabs a beer, paying before you can even argue.
Outside, you crack your can open and take a sip—immediately making a face.
“Too strong?” she asks, already smirking.
You swallow, quietly clearing your throat. “That’s the point,” you hesitate before taking another sip, “it’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she says, amusement slipping through her voice.
You elbow her lightly, “I can handle it.”
“Sure,” she murmurs, opening her beer.
──────────────────────
The bar is warm and low-lit, music humming under the sound of chatter. You scan the room until you spot Ji-yeong waving from her seat.
“LOOK who finally arrived,” she calls when you reach the table. She immediately gets up and pulls you in for a hug.
“You look so cute,” you say, squeezing her lightly.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she says, pulling back to look you over. “You look so pretty—I hate you,” she pause, then her lips pull into a smirk. “Did you dress up just for me?”
You grin, “obviously—who else?”
Sae scoffs behind you before Ji-yeong pulls her in for a hug too. Sae smiles, unable to fight it off.
The tables crowded with familiar faces. You make your way around, giving quick hugs and hellos to your friends before sliding into the seat next to Sae.
Before you’re even fully settled, your friend pushes a shot towards you.
“We’re doing a round for Ji-yeong,” they say, grinning.
Ji-yeong lifts her glass, “happy birthday to me!”
You clink with everyone and throw it back. It burns on the way down, heat spreading in your chest.
Sae barely reacts to hers, she just sets the empty glass down with a quiet tap, her expression’s steady except for the faintest wince she tries to hide.
More drinks arrive as just you put your shot glass down. You catch Ji-yeong’s grin the second you pick up the cocktail in front of you.
“What?” you ask, glancing between her and the drink.
“Nothing—you’ll like it,” she says, grinning as you take a sip.
“Wait—” you say, taking another. “This is so good.”
“That’s why I ordered it,” Ji-yeong says, smirking as she steals a garnishes off your glass.
Sae gives her a look, “why would you do that?”
“Because it’s my birthday and I want her to get drunk with me” she says, hooking an arm around your shoulders. “Shut up and enjoy your beer.”
You stick your tongue out at Sae and take another sip. She just shakes her head, laughing under her breath before grabbing her own drink.
The night moves fast after that. You drink too much, talk too much, and laugh too loudly. You lean on your elbow as Ji-yeong and one of your friends talk about their night last weekend.
At one point, when you throw your head back laughing, you feel Sae’s arm that had settled along the back of your chair.
You glance over and catch her staring.
“What?” you mouth.
She just shakes her head, a soft smile tugging at her lip as she lifts her drink to take a sip.
──────────────────────
At some point between another round and Ji-yeong insisting you have to take pictures together, the room tilt slightly. Just enough to remind you how quickly you’ve been drinking, and that it’s kicking in.
You steady your hand on the table for a second, trying to blink away the heat rising in your cheeks.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you say, pushing your chair back.
Ji-yeong pats your arm dramatically, “hurry, we’re doing another round when you get back.”
You roll your eyes, smiling as you weave through the crowd. The hallway to the bathrooms is quieter, the bass fading to a low thump.
Inside, you head straight for the mirror, leaning in to check how your makeups holding up. It’s honestly better than you expected, but your lipstick’s pretty much gone.
The door clicks open behind you. Sae steps in quietly, letting it shut as she watches you for a few seconds.
“You good?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you say softly, pulling away from the mirror. “Just needed a breather.”
She leans against the counter, arms folded loosely, “you’re flushed.”
“I’m fine,” you mutter, closing your eyes for a few seconds.
She hums, “little dizzy?”
“A little,” you mumble softly, pushing your hair back.
She dips her head slightly, studying your face. “How much have you had?”
“Umm…the one from the walk, two of those drink thingys,” you pause to think, “one shot and like…half your beer”
Her eyebrow raises, “half?”
You grin, dropping your head slightly, “…it was only a few sips.”
She exhales through her nose, but there’s a faint smirk on her lips. “You’re unbelievable.”
You laugh softly, shifting your weigh slightly.
She watches you for a moment before shaking her head lightly, “you’re doing okay.”
You hum and lift your head to look at her properly. Her fringe is a little out of place, eyes relaxed from the drinks, and her expression’s softened.
“…You’re so pretty,” you whisper without thinking.
She breaths out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?” you ask, instinctively drifting towards her.
“You get all affectionate when you drink,” she says, watching as you step in a little too close.
You frown slightly at her, “I do not.”
“You do,” she says simply, glancing down at your hand that’s now resting lightly on her arm without you even noticing. “You also lean—a lot.”
You scoff, leaning heavily into her just to be annoying. “Like this?”
“Exactly like that,” she laughs softly, shifting to balance you.
Her hands settle on your waist, keeping you steady. You rest your head lightly against her, your cheek brushing her chest, fingers curling gently into the fabric of her shirt.
“You good?” she asks again.
“Mhmm…just wanted you,” you mumble.
She exhales slowly, resting her chin on your head as she runs her hand along your back.
For a few seconds, neither of you speak, it’s just the quiet hum of bar music and the soft sound of your breathing.
You pull back slightly to meet her eyes, “you having fun?”
Her expression softens, “yeah.”
You smile before leaning in to kiss her lightly. She exhales gently against your lips, her thumb brushing the side of your waist.
You start to pull back, but she follow, kissing you again, her lips dragging softly over yours. Her hands slide up your waist a little, pulling you closer.
You hum quietly, fingers curling a little tighter into her shirt. She tilts her head slightly, deepening the kiss and you rise on your toes, sliding both arms around her shoulders. You smiled a little against her mouth without meaning to.
When you finally pull back, her forehead rests against yours, noses brushing as you catch your breath.
She lets out low sigh, “come on,” she says quietly, smoothing a hand over you hip. “Before they come looking.”
You let out a small whine, but it slips into a laugh. She guides you toward the door, fingers loosely laced with yours as the two of you make your way back to the table.
──────────────────────
By the time everyone decides it’s time to go, the bar’s thinned out, but the street are still busy.
Ji-yeong wraps an arm around you and Sae, swaying between you. “Thanks for coming,” she slurs, forehead pressing into Sae’s shoulder.
Sae pats her back, “we wouldn’t miss it.”
“Mmm serious,” Ji-yeong mumbles, pulling back, “you two are—” she waves her hand vaguely, too drunk to finish the sentence. “You know.”
You snort, “yeah—sure.”
She squints at you like she’s trying to think of a response, but gives up and pulls you for another hug before moving to grab her bag from the ground.
One of your friends comes over to walk her to their shared uber, already taking her arm.
Sae’s gaze follows her movements, “text when you get home.”
Ji-yeong salutes her lazily, “yessir.”
Sae just shakes her head, exhaling through her nose.
You move to hug your other friends goodbye. Sae watches Ji-yeong go until she’s safely inside the car, then exhales slowly and turns back to you.
“You have fun?” she asks.
You hum, smiling, “yeah.”
Her eyes soften a little, “good.”
You bump your shoulder against hers, and she nudges you back gently.
“Come on,” she says, reaching for your hand, “let’s go.”
synopsis: you pick a fight you can’t win, pushing her buttons until she finally snaps
genre: angst (sae’s highkey a little mean lol)
It started the way it always does, over something small, and something stupid.
It never takes much with the two of you.
You had plans to go out and spend the night together. Nothing fancy or anything, just dinner and maybe a few drinks. But when you both came home in a bad mood, the tension was already building before you even made it out the door.
She said something under her breath while she laced up her boots, something about how you always take forever to get ready.
You blinked biting back a sigh, really? we’re doing this now?
“Thanks for your patience,” you shot back sarcastically, grabbing your jacket off the hook. She muttered something else on the way out. It was too low to catch, but her tone said enough. By the time you stepped outside, the silence between you was thick.
Neither of you said much at first. You’re still annoyed at her—mostly because she’s right, you do take forever, but also because she didn’t have to say it like that.
And she’s probably annoyed too, but is choosing to shutdown instead of blowing up.
She’s walking beside you with her hands shoved in her jacket pockets, her jaw tight, and eyes fixed straight ahead.
You tried a few harmless comments to break the silence. Something about work, and needing to catch up with friends. But all you got was a flat hum, or not even that.
The silence dragged.
So you start talking more. Small things at first, but they quickly turn into little jabs at her, testing her patience. You’re honestly just saying shit to say it. Seeing how long she’ll let you go before she finally snaps.
But she stayed painfully quiet the whole time. Like she’s deciding whether you’re worth responding to, or maybe just letting you wear yourself out. And at this point, her lack of reaction is really annoying you.
After a couple more minutes of being ignored, you glance at her. “What, you got nothing to say now?” you ask, irritation slipping through.
She doesn’t even glance your way.
You let out a dry laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Come on Sae—don’t go quiet on me now. You’ve been throwing little comments all afternoon, but suddenly you’ve got nothing?”
You see her jaw tighten, still ignoring you.
Your tone turns a little sharper, “you gonna keep acting like this all night? Or are you planning to actually use your words at some point?”
She doesn’t even flinch.
You let out a quiet scoff, speeding up just enough to walk backwards in front of her, your arms crossing loosely over your chest.
“You always do this” you mutter, “say something that pisses me off, then act like nothing happened.”
She finally glances up, meeting your eyes with a brief unimpressed look, then keeps walking.
You scoff, matching her pace. “You always pull this shit—going quiet when you know I’ve got a point.”
“You’re don’t,” she says flatly.
You let out a short laugh, “funny—why don’t you prove it. Cause you go silent every time l do.”
She stops walking.
You froze too, your heart racing when her gaze locked on you.
Finally getting a reaction, you bite back a grin.
She doesn’t say anything, just stares at you. Her jaw flexing like she’s debating whether she loves you enough to not turn around and leave you right here on the sidewalk.
You wait for her to crack..
But she doesn’t.
Tilting your head, a smug smile slowly grows on your face. “God…you’re such a pussy,” you half laugh.
That gets her.
Her eyes narrow.
She steps forward and grabs your wrist, pulling you towards her. You stumble a little, caught off guard. She turns and starts walking again, tugging you along with her. Her grip isn’t rough, but its firm enough to make your stomach twist.
“You mad?” you ask, almost gloating, “you look kinda—”
She cuts you off by suddenly veering into a narrow alleyway between two buildings. It’s slightly hidden by a row dumpsters, the walls covered in faded graffiti
Before you can ask what she’s doing, she presses you firmly back against the wall.
You smirk falters, “oh.”
Her hand’s still around your wrist, the other slides to your waist. Her eyes are sharp as she steps closer.
She stares at you, her face unreadable.
“You done?” she asks quietly, tilting her head.
You stare at her for a beat, pulse spiking
She leans in a little, her gaze flickering to your mouth for a split second before returning to your eyes again.
“Or are you just gonna keep running your mouth?”
Your breath catches.
She was calm, and that was the part that got to you. She knows exactly what she’s doing. The way her hand settles at your waist, the tilt of her head, how little effort it takes for her to shut you up.
You try to play it off, “I’m just saying—”
“You’re always just saying,” she cuts in, voice even.
Her hand lifts up to your jaw, her thumb resting just under your cheekbone. “Half the time I don’t even think you know what the hell you’re talking about.”
You open your mouth for another jab—
“Don’t,” she warns softly, tightening her grip just enough to stop you.
The look she gives you kills whatever comeback you had. Her gaze is flat, and unimpressed, but faintly amused.
Your mouth stays parted for a second before you give up and go quiet.
She watches you for a moment, her head tilting with a smug little edge, the corner of her mouth twitching.
“Quiet now huh?” she murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheek.
Your eyes flicker away for a second, then meet hers again.
She studies you slowly, her gaze dragging across your face, down to your mouth, and back up. Then her hand shifts to your chin, angling your face up just slightly.
“You were real confident five minutes ago.”
You swallow, still nothing to say.
Her lips twitch, almost smiling. She leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear.
“What happened to all that shit you were saying?” she asks, “…you’re such a smartass until someone calls your bluff.”
You can feel your face heat up. You hate how easy it is for her to flip the script.
Your breath becomes shaky, your brain blanking .
She exhales slowly, like she’s satisfied. Her thumb presses against your jaw before her hand slides behind your neck, pulling you into a kiss.
It’s heated and firm, like she’s been holding back all night. Her body’s warm as she pressed against you.
You inhaled sharply when her lips parted, deepening the kiss. Her thumb brushing at the edge of your jaw.
You melt into it embarrassingly fast, reaching for her jacket, fingers twisting in the fabric
When she finally pulls back, it’s slow, ike she’s not quite finished. Her forehead rests gently against yours, her breath warm against your mouth. Her hand lingers on your neck, fingertips brushing your skin.
You stare at her for a second, a little dazed.
“You done trying to piss me off now?” she asks.
You nod once, wordless.
She gives you a look.
“…Yeah,” you manage softly.
After a moment, her hand slips away, finally giving you some space. She glances towards the street, then back at you, jerking her chin slightly.
“Come on,” she mutters, already walking out the alley.
You stay leaned against the wall for a few seconds, watching her as she walks off.
“…Are we still going to dinner?” you call after her.
She glances over her shoulder, eyes flat but her mouth twitching slightly. “Yeah,” she says, “unless you’ve got something else to complain about.”
Your lips tug into a small smile before you finally push off the wall and scramble to catch up with her.
She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a thing, but slows her pace enough for you to walk beside her, and threads her fingers with yours
After a block, you clear your throat, “you’re not mad anymore, right?”
synopsis: you go to your best friend’s birthday party hoping it’ll fix things. but sae ends up having to pick you up in tears.
genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff
You’ve been best friends for practically your entire lives, for years she’d always been the person you told everything to. But lately things between you have started changing.
You’re not even sure when it started, maybe it was the late replies, the cancelled plans, or when you started learning about her life through other people’s stories.
You tried not to be dwell on it, new job, new friends—it happens. She’ll circle back, and tonight would feel like how it used to.
You spent hours picking out her birthday present, something small but thoughtful, wrapped it yourself, and wrote a dumb little note about how proud you were of her and how much you missed her lately.
But the second you walked into the party, it was like you didn’t exist.
She gave you a distracted smile and a quick loose hug, already turning away to a group of people you didn’t recognise.
You think they’re from her work, or maybe uni? You’re not even sure anymore, but they all seem to know each other.
You tried to join in, laughing along, but every time you said something it got immediately drowned out by someone else. She barely looked at you the whole time.
After a while, you finally got the chance to give her your gift, you tried to sound casual, “happy birthday.”
“Thanks babe,” she said grabbing it, not even looking at the card, already waving to someone over your shoulder. She brushed past you before you could answer.
The night followed with inside jokes you didn’t get, and group photos you weren’t invited to be in. You ended up just standing off to the side, holding your drink, wondering why you even came.
Eventually you caught her alone and tried quickly talking with her. “Hey can we—"
“Kinda busy right now,” she muttered shaking her head, already moving towards her friends.
You forced a smile and nodded, quietly slipping away down the hall. Entering her bathroom, you locked the door behind you. You sit on the edge of the tub, your heart tuck in your throat, staring at your phone.
You don't want to say anything that might ruin her night.
But you also can’t stay here any longer.
Your fingers hovered over the screen for a while before you finally messaged Sae
can u come get me
please
i don’t wanna be here anymore.
She responded a couple minutes later.
omw
──────────────────────
You didn’t bothering saying goodbye.
You just slipped out the door and kept walking until you reached the front steps outside the building.
You sat down at the bottom of the staircase, the weight of the night finally hitting you. You just kind of stared at the sidewalk while you tried to slow your breathing, and ignore the ache building in your chest
The music and laughter from the party above echoed down, muffled but still enough to sting. You pulled your knees up to your chest, and wrapped your arms around them, trying to shut it all out. But it didn’t take long for tears to start slowly slipping down your cheeks before you could even stop them.
You don’t know how long you sat there, but eventually a set of headlights started to appear down the road.
Blinking through tears, you see Sae’s shitty little sedan pull up to the curb.
The engine clicks off, and the door opens. You keep your head down, trying to subtly wipe your tears and compose yourself. But after a few steps her scuffed sneakers stopped just in front of you.
You look up, trying to hold back your tears. But once you see the worry behind her eyes, it just crumbled instantly.
“Hey,” she says softly, her eyes scanning your face.
She crouched down in front of you, one hand braced on her knee, the other reaching out gently to rest on your arm.
“Come here.”
You fold into her without hesitation, she catches you easily, pulling you against her chest. She wraps her arms around you, one hand smoothing over your hair, and the other tracing slow circles on your back.
You press your face againt her collarbone. “I shouldn’t have gone,” you mumble after a while, “it was so fucking stupid.”
She didn’t say anything at first, just kept holding you while your breathing settled
“Was it her?” she asked softly, her lips brushing the top of your head.
You nodded against her neck, your lip trembling slightly.
She let out a heavy breath through her nose, tucking you in tighter.
“She didn’t even care that I was there,” you whisper.
Her hand shifted to the back of your neck, her thumb brushing gently across your skin.
"Come on," she said quietly.
You only nodded, letting her help you up, your fingers immediately curling into hers.
──────────────────────
The ride was silent at first.
The streetlights passed by the windows, flickering softly. You watched them blur past, trying to make sense of everything.
Halfway home, you finally say something.
“She barely looked at me the whole night. Every time I tried to join the conversation, she would just talk over me, or like… kinda ignore what I said. I don't know if it was on purpose, but… it still felt shitty.” You exhale shakily, trying to stop the stinging in your eyes.
Her hand tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
You bit your lip, “I feel stupid for being this upset about it.”
“You’re not,” she says without hesitation.
You pulled away from the window and glance over at her. She kept her eyes on the road but reached over to slide her fingers into your, her thumb stroking yours absently.
You looked at her for a while, your breathing slowing. “Thanks for picking me up,” you whisper.
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” she murmured, “you never do.”
She glanced over at you briefly, squeezing your hand softly before turning back to the road
──────────────────────
When you finally got home you kicked off your shoes, pulled off your jacket, and dropped your bag by the door.
You didn’t say anything while you walked straight to the couch, curling up on it.
She slipped her shoes off and dropped her keys on the counter before moving over to you. She sat down beside you and wrapped her arms around you.
You shift to lean your head against her shoulder. “I didn’t thinl it would hurt this much,” you admitted, “like...I knew we were growing apart, but I guess I thought she’d still try, even just a little,” your voice cracked on the last word.
She stayed quiet, rubbing your back in slow in steady circles, letting you take your time.
"I know it’s probably not a big deal,” you muttered, tugging at the sleeves of your shirt.
She exhaled softly, her hand sliding up to the back of your head, pulling you closer. “It is a big deal,” she says softly, “you care her.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, tears falling down your face.
The two of you sat like that for a while before she gently brushed your hair behind your ear. “You showed up for her, that matters. If she couldn’t see it…that’s on her.”
“l don’t think she cares anymore," you mutter.
Her fingers combed lightly through your hair.
You inhale a shaky breath, “I don’t know what I thought was going to happen. I guess part of me kept waiting for her to notice, to say something.”
You wiped at your cheeks even though the tears kept coming. “The worst part is…I don’t even think she noticed I left.”
Her gaze lingers on you, “then she didn’t deserve you being there in the first place.”
You let out a shaky half sob, half laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”
Her hand traced up the back of your neck. “It is,” she murmured, “If someone can’t appreciate you, that’s on them—not you.”
You nodded against her shoulder, not trusting you voice.
“She’s the one who should feel like shit,” she added quietly.
She doesn’t say anything further, just pulled you closer again, guiding your head back against her shoulder. She kept holding you, her hand gently rubbing circles into your back, until your breathing finally started to slow.
yo
i tried to keep the best friend a little ambiguous. l didn't really wanna use another squid game character or a random name lol
but if it's confusing to read let me know and i'll change it <3
synopsis: you and sae go to a party at ji-yeong’s place, after getting a little drunk she takes care of you.
genre: university/college au, fluff
The second you stepped into Ji-yeong’s apartment, the heat hits your face. Too many bodies crammed into one space, the half-assed attempt to cover the smell of pot, and the music’s thumping a little too loud to talk over.
You know most of the people here, some mutual friends from uni, and other familiar faces from nights you barely remember.
Ji-yeong’s voice cuts through the noise from across the room. “Hey! Took you long enough!”
Sae doesn’t say anything, but you catch the slight squint of her eyes as she scans the room, like she’s already regretting coming.
You nudge her lightly, “You can’t back out now, she’s already seen us.”
Sae exhales through her nose, barely a reaction, but she still follows you in.
“Look who decided to be social,” Ji-yeong teases, walking over with a grin on her face. She pulls you in for a hug, then leans around you to squint at Sae. “Hey sunshine. Blink twice if you need help.”
Sae’s mouth tugs into a smirk. “You invited me.”
“And I’ll never stop,” Ji-yeong replies, already turning back towards the kitchen. “No matter how miserable you pretend to be.”
You glance over to Sae. Her mouth twitches into a quick smile before disappearing. “Do you want a drink?” she asks, turning towards you.
You grin, “Yes please.”
She disappears in the direction Ji-yeong went, slipping between crowd. You quickly follow, hooking your finger in her belt loop so you don’t lose her.
The kitchen’s a little less crowded, although the bench is already lined with empty bottles and some forgotten drinks. Sae reaches past a few people, ignoring a guy who tries to talk to her, and grabs two beers from the fridge.
She pops the cap off hers against the edge of the counter, then pauses, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You want this or something else?” she murmurs.
“That’s fine,” you smile, and she cracks the second one open, handing it over to you without a word.
You take a sip and lean against the counter beside her, “God, you’re so good to me,” you sigh, shifting closer to her.
She gives a short, dismissive laugh as her eyes drop to your mouth for just a second, but long enough to be caught, then flick away like it didn’t happen. “I’m decent.”
You grin behind the rim of your drink, then tip forward to press a quick kiss against her cheek . She makes a quiet sound, almost like a scoff, but it’s cut off when you gently tug at her chin. This time you press your mouth to hers. She stills for a second, then kisses you back, the hand holding her beer lowering to the counter so she can angle closer.
When you pull away, she exhales through her nose like it’s nothing, but her mouth still lingers close to yours. “Drink your beer,” she mutters.
You laugh, bringing it to your mouth, unable to hide your grin.
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A few drinks later, you’re pulled into a conversation with Ji-yeong and two of her lit major friends. One of them won’t stop talking about something vaguely pretentious, and you’re just nodding along, sipping your drink. You’re tipsy enough at this point so it barely registers.
Becoming bored, you start to slowy scan your eyes around the room. Until something catches your eye and makes you pause.
There’s a guy talking to Sae.
He’s standing infront of her, doing that thing guys do where they think leaning in close makes them more attractive. And she’s just standing there, arms loosely crossed, expression flat in a way that should be universally understood, but he somehow hasn’t.
You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you can see it. That cocky smile, hopeful eyes, probably drunk kind of flirting. And the not so subtle way his gaze dips down her body, not realising she’s already written him off before he even opened his mouth.
Sae’s just looking at him, her face unreadable, not flattered, not angry. Just painfully neutral.
Holding back a laugh, you just watch as she says something short, and probably sharp, causing the guy to back off with an awkward laugh and a shoulder shrug, already turning to find his next victim.
When she glances around, her gaze instantly finds you. She pushes off the wall and starts making her way over.
“Have fun?” you giggle lightly, passing her your drink.
“Shut up,” she mutters taking a sip from the bottle.
You lean into her, “Aww don’t be like that, he was brave,” you say failing to bite back your grin.
She glances at you, unimpressed. And you just smile cheekily at her.
“A whole apartment full of people, and he picks you. The most unapproachable person in the building.”
She exhales through her nose. “I told him I wasn’t interested.”
You bump your shoulder against hers. “Good girl.”
She shoots you a flat deadpanned look.
You laugh, leaning your head into her shoulder. “I was gonna rescue you.”
“No you weren’t.”
“Okay,” you admit, pulling at her waist. “I was gonna watch.”
Sae glances away, unimpressed, but the corner of her mouth twitch up as she huffs out a short laugh.
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Eventually, the heat inside becomes too much, and you drift to the back of the apartment, towards the sliding door where the cold airs creeping in.
Sae opens the door, letting you step out first, the cool air hitting you.
The balcony’s small and cluttered. Theres an ashtray, a few dying plants and a stain deck chair that looks like it’s about to give out.
You take the risk and sit down, tugging her between your legs, winding your arms around her back.
She doesn’t fight it, she just exhales softly and lets herself be pulled in, her body settling between your thighs. Her hand finds its way into your hair, slowly combing through it without thinking.
“You wanna go?” she asks quietly.
You nod against her stomach, “You’ll carry me if I pretend to fall asleep in the uber, right?”
“No.”
You pout.
“I’ll just leave you there,” she adds.
“You’re so mean to me,” you huff, pulling her even closer.
She exhales a slight laugh, but she doesn’t pull back. You feel it vibrate against your cheek.
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When you finally stand, her hand slides down your arm until her fingers tangle with yours, as she pulls you back through the sliding door.
You walk through the apartment without saying much. It’s still loud, and still crowded, but it feels less suffocating now that you know you’re leaving. She weaves you both through until you step out onto the street where it’s quieter, the air sharp against your cheeks.
She wraps an arm around your waist as you lean heavily into her shoulder, scrolling clumsily through your phone to order a ride.
“You know Ji-yeong’s gonna give us shit for bailing,” you mumble against her.
“She’ll live,” She replies, tugging you a little closer.
When uber pulls up, she waits for you to climb in first. You drop into the seat, and lean against the window. When she slides in beside you, you immediately shift and rest your head on her shoulder.
The drive home is quiet, you watch the streetlights flicker softly across her face as she scrolls absently through her phone. She keeps one hand resting on your thigh, her thumb brushing slow circles against your skin.
By the time you reach your place, your eyes are getting heavy. She nudges you out of the car, guiding you up the steps with a hand on your back. She fishes out her keys, and unlocks the door without a word, gently guiding you in.
Inside your apartment, you kick your shoes off without looking, nearly tripping over them, laughing under your breath. She steadies you with a quiet sigh, and tugs you carefully towards the couch.
You collapse onto it, pulling her down with you before she can protest. She makes a low sound, somewhere between annoyed and acceptance, but she doesn’t pull away.
When you tilt your face up, she meets you halfway, pressing a soft, unhurried kiss against your mouth. She shifts just slightly, brushing your hair back, then pulls away to press a kiss to your temple.
She stays there, her chin resting on top of your head, and her arm circles around your waist, letting you press in as close as you want. Your eyes begin slipping shut, when you feel her shift just enough to pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch, and tuck it around you both.
“Go to sleep,” she mumbles softly.
You just hum in response, too far gone to form any words.
While you drift off, the last thing you register is the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the warmth of her hand resting against your back.
l have a lot of partially written requests but l keep getting writers block like half way through them, then l try to start another fic...and the cycle continues
I'm sorry, l do see them l promise!! l just have trouble fully expanding them and turning them into a proper fic
synopsis: sae’s covered in marks you didn’t realize you left.
genre: fluff, smut
You and Sae are stretched out on your bed, legs tangled under a thin sheet, some movie paused and forgotten on your laptop. You’re not watching it anyway, you’re too busy with her. Leaving slow-lazy kisses that keep drifting.
You keep it easy at first, lips parting, noses bumping, that unhurried push and pull that warms your chest. Her thumbs rub idle circles under the hem of your shirt. You breathe through each other and let everything else slip away.
“Come closer,” you mumble.
She hums, amused, her hand sliding further up your waist, tugging you in.
You nudge her hair behind her ear, and kiss the corner of her mouth, then the soft spot under it. Her breath catches when your fingers slip beneath her tank top.
You roll half on top of her, and she lays back willingly, the sheet twisting at your hips. Your thigh slots between hers without much thought. There’s a moment where you both just breathe, noses brushing, like you’re deciding on a pace.
Clothes start coming off in pieces, she lifts her arms when you tug her shirt off, goosebumps rising under your palms. You kiss your way across the curve of her collarbone, and mouth slowly along her chest. Her nipple hardens when your breath skims over it. You look up and find her watching you, pupils blown wide.
“So pretty,” you say whisper, and close your lips around her.
Her breath catches, and she moves her hand to settle on the back of your neck, keeping you close. You take your time, tongue circling, mouth soft, then adding little more pressure just to hear her breathing go shaky. Your thigh keeps a gentle rhythm that her hips follow without thinking.
You dot kisses lower, then back up, then under her jaw, leaving heat everywhere your mouth goes. You already know you’ve started leaving marks on her, but your brain just files it under “future me’s problem,” because the way she’s breathing has your own composure hanging by a thread.
Your hand slips into her shorts, she twitches at the first touch, then melts when your fingers find her. You tease adding gentle pressure, and slow circles, just to feel the way she chases your hand. Her head tips back, her mouth parting, letting out shaky breaths. You keep it lazy until her hips start getting impatient.
“There,” she whispers.
You slide two fingers inside her, she’s tight and warm around you. Her jaw falls slack at the push, her breathing uneven. You keep a steady and deep pace, your palm rubbing perfectly against her clit.
Your kisses get messy, and your teeth drag. Colour starting blooming fast where your mouth lingers, you don’t take notice to how many you’ve left, you’re too wrapped up in the way she’s melting for you. You kiss her chest between beats, then up her neck again, completely lost in the heat of her skin. She too far gone to notice the map you’re leaving, her hand in your hair, eventually guiding you back up to her mouth.
“Right there,” she says in a low exhale, against your lips.
You hum into the kiss and curling your fingers exactly how she likes it. She tightens around you as she comes, hips rolling into your hand, a low moan swallowed between your mouths.
You don’t stop until the aftershocks soften and her fingers squeeze your wrist gently. You ease out and mouth a few more kisses along her jaw. Your hands fall to her waist, then underside of her boob, just absent-mindedly tracing. You’re ready to just sink into the couch and cuddle with her until you both doze off.
Then she stirs.
You don’t have time to register the look in her eyes before she’s rolling you onto your back. Her hair falls forward, but she tucks it behind her ear and kisses you deeply. She smiles into your mouth when you buck against her without meaning to. Her fingers hook into your waistband and tugs your shorts down.
“I thought—” you start, breathless.
She shakes her head once, mouth at your jaw, “Not done.”
The first pass of her fingers over your clit blanks you. You cling, nails in her shoulder, a little whimper slipping out before you can bite it back. She’s quiet, focused, unhurried in that infuriating way that keeps you begging.
“Please,” you say, because pride is fake and she can be mean when you’re needy.
Her mouth twitches, she rubs you slow, then slides two fingers inside. Her knuckles pressing at the perfect angle as she curls. She watches your face like she’s reading it, noting every twitch, and adjusting her pace by the small, broken sounds she drags out of you. Keeping you close, but not pushing you over the edge.
“You—” You swallow, “You’re mean.”
“No,” she nips your lower lip lightly. “I’m focused.”
You laugh, breathless, then stop laughing because she does something with her wrist that short-circuits your brain. You arch into her hand, thighs trembling around her. She presses closer, keeping you open and right where she wants you.
She works you deeper, the heel of her palm catching your clit just right on every thrust. You’re so wet you can hear it, and god she’s into it—her eyes dark, and her breathings rougher now.
“More,” you gasp.
She gives it to you without a word.
The build is fast and consuming. You’re already there, your eyes sting, and your hips lift to meet her. You try to bury your face in her neck, but she catches your chin with her free hand and keeps you looking at her.
“Sae—” you warm.
“Mmm,” her palm grinding against your clit, “I know.”
You fall apart—hard, clenching around her fingers, with your thighs trembling. She holds you through it, her rhythm relentless but gentle, riding the tremors until the edges blur and you slump, shaking.
When you finally stop shivering, she doesn’t go anywhere. She tucks her face into your throat and just breathes with you, hand still spread low on your belly.
“Come here,” you sigh, dragging her down against you. Your chest to her chest, skin to skin.
You fall asleep like that, tangled up and warm. The movie still paused and forgotten on the bedside table.
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You wake up to the soft clatter of cupboards and the shuffle of feet in the kitchen. The sunlight is already pushing through the blinds in stripes.
You linger for a minute, your face in the pillow. Eventually you peel yourself up, tug on underwear and last night’s shirt, then wander down the hall.
You find Sae in the kitchen. She’s at the counter by the toaster, still in her pyjama shorts and a sports bra. Her hairs half tied up in the way she does when she can’t be bothered.
“Morning,” you croak.
She glances over her shoulder when she hears you enter. Her eyes are slightly narrowed as she turns slightly to slide a plate toward you. “Morning.”
You lean past her for a mug and freeze.
Oh.
Yeah…you did that.
There’s dark, blooming constellations climbing from the slope of her chest and up her throat. They’re scattered high enough that no one could miss them if she even dared to step outside.
It’s…a lot.
She follows your gaze, touching the edge of one mark with her fingers, then looks back at you. Her eyes narrow, but there’s no real heat behind them.
You cover your face with your hands. “Oh my god,” you say, wincing, “that’s—yeah, that’s on me.”
She turns to looks at herself in the reflection of the microwave door, then back at you. There’s a long, unreadable pause that would spook anyone else, but you know better. The corner of her mouth twitches.
“You were busy,” she says dryly.
“In my defence, you were very distracting” you say weakly.
“Was I?” She asked with faked disinterest, one brow lifting.
Yeah you deserved that.
You cross to her, your hands held out in an apology, then stop close enough to see the new colour coming in along her collarbone. Your fingers hover, then you gently trace near one of the bigger ones, careful not to poke a sore spot. “I’m sorry,” you say, sincere. “They’re…pretty, though.”
Her eyes do the narrowing thing again, but softer this time, like she’s trying not to smile.
You lean in and kiss her cheek. Her skin is warm under your mouth, a little sensitive in places. She catches your chin with two fingers before you can be drift again.
“No,” she says, not harshly, just certain. “You did enough.”
Her thumb skims your lower lip once, then she releases you, reaching for her hoodie, and tugging it over her head. The fabric hides most of the damage. She looks at you from inside the hood, the ghost of a smile there now. “Lower next time.”
series masterlist | main masterlist | kang sae-byeok x reader
synopsis: you’re a volunteer at the local children’s shelter. when cheol and sae-byeok first arrived she always kept her distance, only dropping by for her brother. but over time, things slowly begin to change.
genre: angst, slow-burn, fluff
Since the fundraiser, she’s been around more.
At first, you figured it was just for Cheol. I mean it made sense—he's more settled here now, more social, and more vocal. If she wanted to keep an eye on him, you couldn’t blame her. But after a while, you stopped wondering, because it started to feel like more than just obligation.
It really felt like something shifted after that weekend.
It wasn’t anything massive, but that careful distance you’d both been keeping just…started shrinking. She still didn’t say much, still slipped out of rooms without a word sometimes, but now she looked for you when she walked in. Sometimes she stayed, even sat near you, and helped clean up without being asked.
She still kept her guard up, but it didn’t feel like it was aimed at you anymore.
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You really noticed it a few days after the fundraiser.
It had been raining all day. You were sitting in the art room alone, taking advantage of the quiet to sort through a box of donations. Music was playing softly out of your old bluetooth speaker.
You heard the door creak open behind you but didn’t turn around. “If it’s another box of supplies, I’ll cry.”
There was a pause, then, in a flat tone, “Guess I’ll keep it to myself then.”
You glanced back, Sae-byeok stood in the doorway, one hand still resting on the frame.
Your eyebrows lifted, “No Cheol?”
“He’s in class,” she said, “I was nearby.”
You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out if that was the whole truth, then you patted the floor beside you. “You can sit, you know. I don’t bite.”
After a beat, she stepped in and lowered herself to the floor, her back against the wall, knees loosely drawn up.
You kept sorting for a few seconds, letting the silence stretch comfortably between you. The sound of rain, mixed with your music filled the room.
“You ever make friendship bracelets when you were a kid?” you asked, holding up a tangled bundle of embroidery thread.
She snorted softly, “No.”
“Want to learn?”
She gave you a look, unamused but not annoyed.
You grinned anyway, “Come on, it’s therapeutic.”
She didn’t respond, but after a moment she reached out and took one of the strands from your hand.
You spent the next ten minutes sitting shoulder to shoulder, threading colours through your fingers. You talked a little, you mentioned something stupid one of the boys did earlier that day, she added something dry under her breath that made you laugh.
But at one point, your knees bumped, and she didn’t pull away.
At another, you leaned a little closer to show her how to knot the threads, and she tilted her head to watch, her eyes flicking to your face once, before she looked back down.
When the thread slipped from her fingers, you reached out without thinking and brushed her hand to guide it, her breath hitched just slightly.
You didn’t say anything about it, neither did she.
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It had been a little over a week since then, but the moment stuck with you.
It’s been a quiet afternoon, most of the kids were outside playing soccer, only a few lingered in the common room.
You’re standing on one of the old kids chairs, trying to hang a string of paper stars across the top of the bulletin board. You’ve already stuck up one end, holding the rest in your free hand, squinting to judge the height when a voice cut in behind you.
“You’re going to fall doing it like that.”
You glanced over your shoulder.
Sae-byeok stood a few feet away, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, her face unreadable.
You laughed under your breath, “If you’re that worried, you could help.”
For a second you thought she might ignore you, but then she stepped forward and stood beside the chair.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Hold this up for me,” you said, leaning down to pass her the other end of the stars. “Don’t let it sag too much.”
She took the stars without a word, lifting her hand to match your height.
You focused on smoothing the tape against the wall, arms stretched over your head. A little higher on your end,” you murmured. “No—just a little more…yeah there, perfect.”
She adjusted silently, glancing between the stars and your hands. Once you pressed the last bit of tape into place, you stepped down carefully. She stayed where she was, holding the stars steady until you nodded.
“Looks good, right?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied your work.
Sae-byeok’s gaze lingered on the stars for a moment before shifting to you. “It’s fine.”
You laugh queitly at her bluntness.
“Okay, last one,” you say, climbing back onto the stool.
You point towards the open box of decorations nearby, “Can you please hand me the next one?”
She crouched to grab it, then passed it up to you, her fingers briefly brushing yours. You didn’t look at her right away, but you felt her watching you as you worked.
“More to the left,” she said after a moment.
You shifted the string slightly, “Better?”
She gave a small hum in response, stepping a little closer to help line it up.
Once you’d smoothed the tape flat, you stepped down again to check the placement, landing a little closer to her than you meant to.
“Oh—sorry,” you laugh, moving half a step back.
You looked up and found her already watching you, her eyes flickered across your face.
“What?” you asked, your voice softer.
She didn’t answer, not right away, just stared like she was about to speak and changed her mind. Her hands lowered slowly, the stars falling slack between you as she turned a little closer.
Her gaze dropped to your mouth for half a second before flicking back to your eyes, and your heart thudded hard against your ribs.
You leaned a fraction closer, your fingers tightened around the string of stars, holding your breath.
She moved in, slow and unsure, tilting her head faintly. Her face was close enough now that you could feel the slight warmth of her breath, her eyes flicking up again.
Then she stopped.
She blinked like she’s suddenly aware of the moment, her body went rigid, her hand tightening around the decorations before she quickly stepped back.
“I should check on Cheol,” she said abruptly, her voice clipped, colder now.
“Sae—” you started, but she was already turning away, her shoulders stiff as she crossed the room.
But she was already walking away, her shoulders tense, and her pace fast. She didn’t look back.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving you standing there, still holding the stars, your chest tight with the sting of rejection.
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She been avoiding you ever since.
At first, it was subtle, and easy to brush off. But you still noticed, especially after how close she’d started hovering.
There was no more lingering during cleanup, no more quiet offhanded comments about the kids, and no more hidden glances while you worked.
Just this measured and deliberate distance.
Obviously, she still showed up for Cheol, and still came when he needed something. But her visits were quicker now, just in and out.
You still smiled when she passed you in the hall, still asked about Cheol like you didn’t notice her short answers or the way she avoided standing too close. You gave her space and tried to act like nothing had happened.
But it stung more than you wanted to admit.
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It became impossible not the notice a week later.
She came by to take Cheol to a doctor’s appointment.
You were at the front desk, flipping through the calendar, scribbling a few updates into the shared logbook when you heard the front door creak open behind you.
She stepped inside, eyes scaning the room until they landed on Cheol. Her posture was tense, hands tucked into her pockets, jaw tight.
“Morning,” you said, glancing up with a practiced smile.
She didn’t look at you.
She glanced past you to Cheol, who was waiting inside the common room. “You ready?”
He nodded quickly, hurrying over with his coat half-buttoned. She bent down to adjust his backpack, muttering something low that you couldn’t quite catch.
You cleared your throat, reaching the form the centre needed her to sign. “Just a quick signature before you go.”
She took the clipboard from you without a word, signed it, handed it back barely glancing in your direction.
“Thanks,” you offered anyway, keeping your tone light.
She didn’t respond, just gave Cheol a quick once-over, then ushered him out the door, without looking back.
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By the time Thursday rolled around, nothing had changed. If anything, the space between you had solidified.
You didn’t expect her to show up, not after the way she brushed past you earlier in the week, not after nearly two full weeks of silence.
Movie nights had become a bit of a tradition. They only happened every couple weeks, but the kids never let you forget when one was coming up.
Honestly, you considered skipping this one.
You’ve stayed late every Thursday for weeks now, ever since Cheol had started saving you a spot on the floor, and ever since the kids started calling dibs on who got to sit next to you. But this week had been long, and a part of you still felt the quiet ache from everything.
At six o clock, your things were packed, and you were ready to call it a night. But somehow thirty minutes later, you’re crouched near the projector, trying to coax it back to life.
You don’t even remember deciding to stay…it just kinda happened.
The common room filled slowly. Kids shuffled in with snacks and toys, some dragging blankets, others rushing to claim one of the bean bags.
You were checking the cables when someone said her name behind you.
You looked up instinctively.
Sae-byeok was standing near the door, her hands in her pockets, hair tucked behind her ears, eyes unreadable.
Your breath caught.
She hadn’t come on a Thursday in weeks.
You looked back at the projector, heart quietly thudding, pretending you didn’t see her.
When the movie started, the kids quieted down. You sat near the front, legs folded under you, pretending to be distracted with the movie
You didn’t glance back once, not even when you felt her walk past and sit somewhere along the back.
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Once the movie ended, one of the supervisors flicks the lights on, and the kids start filing out. You stayed behind, helping fold blankets, stack up empty snack bowls, and wipe down the tables.
You didn’t notice her still standing there until you turned around.
You clear your throat, “Hey,” you offer lightly.
She doesn’t answer.
You hesitate, trying again. “I didn’t think you liked movie nights.”
“I don’t,” she says, flatly.
You swallowed, “Then why bother staying?” you ask, pretending to be focused on the table.
After not receiving a response, you assume she’s just not going to answer, and instead leave to avoid the conversation.
After long pause, you see her shake her head faintly.
“I don’t like movies,” her voice comes out low and cautious.
Shifting her weight, she adds, “…But you’re always here on Thursdays.” Her eyes are fixed on the blank projector screen like it’s easier to talk to that than to you.
You stop wiping the table, taking in her words.
You turned towards her slowly, heart pounding. “…So you came for me?” you hesitate before adding, “So why have you been—"
“Because I didn’t mean to do that,” she said, cutting you off. “Whatever that was, the other day, I shouldn’t have—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you said quickly, shaking your hea, “I was the one who—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice sharper now, “It was a mistake.”
That stung more than you thought it would.
“Right,” you nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. You started to turn away, but her voice stopped you.
“I didn’t mean…I just—”
She broke off, jaw tight, like she was mad at herself for even trying.
You turned back, trying to plaster on an understanding smile. “You don’t have to explain.”
She finally glances at you, her expression unreadable. “It’s easier this way,” she says after a brief pause.
You attempt to hold her gaze, “For who?”
She doesn’t respond, eyes dropping from yours.
You let out a slow breath and nod, trying to save face, “Okay.”
You move to grab your hoodie from the back of the chair. “I should head home,” you say, starting to make your way out the room.
After a couple steps she walks towards you, “I’ll walk with you.”
You blinked, surprised, your hand adjusting the strap of your bag.
“I’m heading that way anyway,” she mutters.
You don’t have the energy to argue, instead you just nod, and follow her out.
──────────────────────
The night air is cool against your skin as you step outside, the shelter door clicking shut behind you.
The quiet hits harder now, without the noise of the kids and the movie, there’s nothing left to buffer it, just her.
She walks a step ahead, hands deep in her jacket pockets, head dipped slightly. She hasn’t said a word since offering to walk you home.
You’re not even sure what this is, an apology maybe, or guilt?
You don’t rush to catch up, you just walk until your pace matches hers.
You want to ask her what she meant back there—it’s easier this way—easier than what??
Instead, you tug your jacket tighter around you, “You don’t have to actually walk me home, you know.”
She doesn’t look at you, “I know.”
Typical
You exhale slowly, and the two of you fall into quiet again. A soft breeze rustling through the low trees near the sidewalk.
Halfway down the block, she finally says something.
“I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”
Your steps slow.
“You mean awkward?” you say, carefully.
Her jaw tightens, staring straight ahead. “I’m not…good at this.”
You huff a small laugh, shaking your head, “Yeah, no shit.”
When you glance over, she’s not smiling, but her expression is less tight, and there’s a flicker of amusement.
“You could’ve just said that,” you add, more gently this time.
She exhales through her nose, like she wants to say something back but isn’t sure how.
After a moment, she looks at you, “I thought it would pass, that I could ignore it.”
You nod slowly, understanding even if it stings a little, “And?”
Her gaze drops for a moment, “Didn’t work.”
You don’t say anything right away, you just continue walking.
When you reach your apartment, you stop near the front entrance, adjusting your bag strap. She stops too, but doesn’t turn to leave just yet.
Exhaling softly, you look at her, this guarded, sharp-edged girl who doesn’t know how to let herself want things.
You study her face under the soft street light, her eyes flicking between yours like she’s trying to figure something out, like there’s something she’s holding back.
“You’re allowed to feel things,” you say gently, “Even if you don’t know what to do with them yet.”
Her eyes drops to your mouth, then back up. Theres a flash of uncertainty and hesitation.
You hold her gaze, “I’m not going to push you,” you add, taking a step closer, “But I’m also not going to pretend I don’t feel something when I’m around you.” Your heart huds in your chest.
She says nothing at first, just watches you, “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Neither do I,” you say honestly, “But I’d like to at least try.”
Her hand drifts up, a little unsure, brushing your arm before resting lightly at your elbow. She leans in slowly, her lips hovering near yours. Her eyes glance to meet yours again before she closed the gaps.
Her lips are soft and warm against yours. The kiss is barely a brush, like she’s still not sure if she’s doing it right.
She goes to pull back but you’re already leaning in to meet her. You kiss her back just as soft, careful not to overdo it. You feel her exhale like she’s been holding her breath for days.
It only lasts a few seconds, but it felt longer.
When she pulls away, she steps back slightly, her eyes flick up like she’s checking your reaction, her hands slip back into her pockets.
You exhale slowly, your eyes remaining soft as you smilie lightly.
After a moment you step back slightly, nodding towards the door, “I should go in.”
She nods, but doesn’t move.
You pause, watching her, “You’re not going to disappear again, are you?”
She shifts her weight, “No,” then glances towards the street, lips barely twitching, “Probably not.”
You laugh under your breath, turning to head up the stairs, “Reassuring.”
She stays on the sidewalk, hands still in her pockets, watching you until you disappear inside.
damnnn this was a long one, putting meals on the table fr
anyways subway finally released!! i've been waiting for this song since the gov ball performance 😭😭
...tbh i thought about changing the ending of this part just to kick the lesbians while they're down
series masterlist | main masterlist | kang sae-byeok x reader
synopsis: you’re a volunteer at the local children’s shelter. when cheol and sae-byeok first arrived she always kept her distance, only dropping by for her brother. but over time, things slowly begin to change.
genre: angst, slow-burn, fluff
You’re finishing up the outline of the mural when she shows up.
You’re crouched close to the wall, using some chalk to sketch out the layout, marking where the flowers will scatter across the grass and where the branches will stretch overhead. You’ve been at it for a couple of hours, your sleeves pushed up, hair tied back, and smudges of chalk on your fingers.
You catch movement in the corner of your eye.
Sae-byeok’s standing a little apart from everyone else, hands in her jacket pockets, hair tied back. Her gaze lingers on the wall before it shifting to you.
“Hi,” you call out, glancing over your shoulder, smiling.
There’s a pause, “Hi,” she responds, her voice low.
You turn to face her better, “You made it.”
She shrugs, eyes scanning the paint trays. “Cheol said you’d need help.”
You tilt your head, teasing, “So you’re just here for him?”
There’s a brief pause before she answers, “Didn’t say that.”
You hold back your smile and turn back to the wall, continuing to sketch out tree’s trunk. She steps closer, peering at the chalk lines.
“What’s that supposed to be?” she asks, nodding towards outline.
“Tree,” you say, sitting back to take in your work, “The kids handprints are going to be the leaves, that corner’s for the sun,” pointing out their placements.
She hums, studying it.
“You drew all this first?” she asks eventually.
“Had to,” you reply, sitting the chalk aside, “Otherwise it’d just end up a mess.”
Her eyes trail the clean chalk lines, then cut back to you. “You didn’t tell me you could actually draw.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” you tease, “Theres a reason I’m the art department.”
For a second, her mouth twitches, like she almost smiled.
She takes a moment, studying the lines again, before shifting her gaze back to you, “What do you want me to do?”
You grin, passing her a roller and gesturing towards the wall. “Help me make this place look like someone cares about it.”
—
The next hour passes quietly, the two of you working in silence, the only sound is the drag of your paintbrushes and the occasional tap against the edge of the paint tray. You glance over once and catch her squinting slightly, focused as she works around the lines you drew earlier.
“You’re careful,” you say softly, not looking away from your section. “Most people rush through the big parts.”
She doesn’t look up. “You said it should look like someone cared,” she says bluntly, but there’s no defensiveness in her voice.
You hum, hiding your smile, “Fair enough.”
She doesn’t respond, but in the corner of your eye, you catch her watching you, like she’s curious about how you move, how you blend colours into the wall.
A few minutes pass before she speaks again, voice low, “You make it look easy.”
You smile faintly, eyes still on your brush, “Comes with practice, l guess.”
She doesn’t respond, just watches the way you sweep strokes along the bottom of the mural, before turning to focus back on her painting.
—
The kids arrive around ten, their excited voices carrying across the yard. Sae-byeok lowers her roller, stepping back slightly as they rush toward the supplies.
You already assigned sections for them, simple shapes they can fill in without messing up the main design. The base colours are done, but your outlines are still visible to guide them.
“Stay in the lines, watch where you’re stepping, and please no playing around with the paint,” you tell them as they gather around. “If you’re not sure about something, just ask me,” you say, smiling gently.
Sae-byeok stands just behind you, roller in hand, watching them grab brushes.
“They’ll ignore you,” she says flatly.
“Not if I keep an eye on them,” you reply.
As if on cue, a little boy immediately tries to dip his brush into a yellow tray that’s clearly labelled SUNFLOWERS ONLY.
“Ah-ah—nope,” you say, catching his wrist before it dips. “We’re painting the grass remember?”
The boy pouts but moves to the green. Sae-byeok raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, you catch the faint smirk on her lips.
—
Cheol’s stationed near the base of the tree, happily smearing green where you told him to. Sae-byeok crouches beside him after a while, pulling the dripping brush out of his hand.
“You’re supposed to paint the wall, not yourself,” she mutters.
Cheol looks up at her, smiling, “You’re good at this, noona.”
She doesn’t answer, but her posture softens as she fixes his uneven patch. Her strokes are careful, steady, and Cheol leans lightly into her side.
She steadies his hand as he finishes his patch. “Try shorter strokes,” she says, quiet, almost gentle.
He nods, focused.
You watch from a few feet away, brush forgotten in your hand.
She glances over once, catching your eye, quickly looking away.
—
Later, little girl tugs on your sleeve, holding out a brush. “Can you help me with the flower?”
“Sure,” you say, crouching down, smiling gently at her. “Go ask her to help too,” you add, nodding towards Sae-byeok.
The girl hesitates, then steps over. “Unnie, can you help?”
Sae-byeok pauses mid-stroke, looking at you like you’ve betrayed her, but the girl’s already handing her the brush.
“Please?”
Sae sighs quietly, kneeling beside her. “Like this,” she says, guiding the girl’s small hands. “Straight lines, not too much paint.”
The girl concentrates, tongue poking out in focus. Sae-byeok corrects her once, then lets her try again.
You catch her eye when the girl’s not looking, she glares at you for setting her up, you just smile back.
—
By afternoon, most of the younger kids have wandered over to the grass for snack break. The mural’s taking shape, a field of flowers, a cleanly arched tree, with a stretch of space waiting for handprints.
You’re rinsing brushes in a bucket when you notice Sae-byeok’s still by the wall, carefully painting a flower petal. Her sleeves pushed up, a few smudges of paint across her shirt.
You get to your feet and walk over. “You know,” you say, crouching beside her, “I think you’ve painted more than some of the volunteers.”
“Didn’t feel like sitting around, she replies, not looking at you.
You hum teasingly, “Right.”
After a moment of silence you say, “You know you don’t have to stay.”
She pauses, brush hovering mid-air.
“I know,” her eye’s still on the wall.
—
A little later you’re back on the grass, sorting paper plates to use as makeshift palettes when a shadows casts over you.
You look up.
Sae-byeok’s standing there awkwardly, a sandwich in one hand and a second one held to you.
“I took two,” she says, not meeting your eyes.
You take it, smiling, “Thanks.”
She sits beside you in the shade, knees drawn up, eyes scanning the field until she finds Cheol. He’s chasing another kid with a paint covered hand, their giggles echoing across the yard.
“Are you regretting coming yet?” you ask between bites.
“No.”
You glance at her.
She’s still staring straight ahead, but her voice softens slightly, “It’s not what I expected.”
You tear off a piece of the crust, “In a bad way?”
She shakes her head, her mouth pressed into a straight line. “It was better than I thought it would be,” it comes out almost reluctantly, like she’s not sure if she should be saying it.
The two of don’t anything for a little while, just finishing off your sandwiches quietly. Then, without thinking you brush a stand of hair off your face, your fingers grazing your cheek.
Her eyes flick over to you, “You’ve got paint on your face,” she says.
You go to wipe it off when she suddenly leans closer, her thumb brushing across your cheekbone.
You blink at her, surprised.
She seems to realise what she’s doing a second too late and pulls her hand back quickly, her eyes flicking away, shoulders tense.
“Oh—thanks,” you say softly.
She doesn’t reply, but her cheeks darken.
—
By late afternoon, the mural is almost finished.
You’ve already laid out trays with different shades of green, guiding the kids hands as they press their handprints along the branches. Another volunteer quickly comes over to help out.
You take a step back, moving beside Sae-byeok, watching Cheol press his palm across the highest spot he can reach. He looks over his shoulder to check if she’s watching.
Of course she is.
She doesn’t say anything, just watches, her expression slightly softened.
—
The sun’s setting when the supervisors begin gathering the kids and taking them back to the shelter. The volunteers start packing up supplies.
Checklist in hand, you’re standing by the mural ticking off supplies, when Sae-byeok appears, dragging a tarp toward you.
You smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Volunteering for cleanup?”
She lets the tarp drop beside you, “You looked busy.”
You smile, tilting your head, “You don’t have to.”
She shrugs casually in response, “I know.”
You work beside each other in silence for a while, folding tarps, sealing paint tins, and gathering brushes. A few of the other volunteers offer to take then back to the shelter.
After handing the supplies over, Sae-byeok turns to you, “You walking home?”
You look up at her, “Yeah.”
She hums softly, slipping her hands into her pockets. “I’ll walk with you.”
—
The walk to your apartment is quiet.
Just the two of you, side by side, shoes scuffing against the pavement.
“Thanks for today,” you say eventually, “I know this isn’t really your thing.”
She shrugs, “It’s fine,” she replies, eyes on the ground, “You didn’t really need me.”
“I wanted you there anyways.”
Her shoulders shift slightly, like she’s unsure how to respond. Her gaze doesn’t leave the pavement, “It wasn’t… bad,” she admits, her voice stiff, like she’s testing out the words.
You watch her for a second, smiling softly “You were good with them, with Cheol, with the kids.”
After a few steps, she replies, “Cheol liked it,” her voice low.
You smile softly, “He wasn’t the only one,” you say before you can stop yourself, your cheeks burning.
That makes her glance at you properly this time, brief but sharp.
“You’re better company than you think,” you say, flicking your gaze forwards.
When you reach your apartment, you slow to a stop, turning towards her.
“This is me,” you say, gesturing towards the building.
She nods, she muttering a brief “Bye,” before turning to leave.
You shift your weight, “Sae-byeok?”
She glances over to you.
“I’m really glad you came today,” you say, your heart starting to race slightly.
Her lips part slightly like she’s going to say nothing at all, then she mutters, almost too quiet to hear, “Me too.” The words sound awkward coming from her, like she doesn’t quite know how to say it.
You smile, softer this time. “See you soon?”
There’s the faintest pause, she nods once. “Yeah, see you soon.”
synopsis: you’re a volunteer at the local children’s shelter. when cheol and sae-byeok first arrived she always kept her distance, only dropping by for her brother. but over time, things slowly begin to change.
genre: angst, fluff, slow-burn
status: completed?? idk i'm sorry, my brains hit a wall 🫠
series masterlist | main masterlist | kang sae-byeok x reader
synopsis: you’re a volunteer at the local children’s shelter. when cheol and sae-byeok first arrived she always kept her distance, only dropping by for her brother. but over time, things slowly begin to change.
genre: angst, slow-burn, fluff
You haven’t seen Sae-byeok in a few days.
When she finally shows up again on Monday, she’s leaning against the hallway wall outside the art room, hands in her pockets, watching Cheol scribble on the corner of a worksheet you’re pretty sure was due last week.
You’re crouched on the floor, sorting through a box of battered paintbrushes for the fundraiser mural this weekend. Half are frayed, most barely usable. You try not to look up at her too often, but you feel her eyes on you every time you move.
“You want to help, or just supervise?” you ask finally, glancing her way.
She blinks, like she’s not sure you’re talking to her.
“You keep staring,” you explain, smiling.
She doesn’t answer, just shifts her weight against the wall and keeps watching.
You shake your head, turning back to the box. “If you’re gonna stare, you could at least help me pick out the ones that won’t leave bristles all over the page.”
There’s a pause, and or a second you’re sure she’s going to ignore you.
Then, quietly, “What’s it for?”
You glance up, “The mural, we’re painting it this weekend.”
She hums, then after a beat she pushes off the wall and crouches beside you.
She picks up a brush, turns it over in her hands. “This one’s useless.”
“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning a little, “That’s why it’s in the uselessbox.”
She places it back, grabs another, and sets it in the smaller pile of brushes you’d deemed semi-usable.
“Thanks,” you say.
She doesn’t respond, but she keeps sorting. For a few quiet minutes, the two of you sit there on the floor, sifting through old paintbrushes while Cheol hums to himself in the background.
—
Throughout the week, she’s around more.
Still quiet, still on the fringe of things—but she’s involved now, in her own way.
She asks blunt questions that make the newer volunteers glance at each other nervously.
“Why are you letting them waste paint like that?”
“Do you always just let kids yell at you like that?”
“Why are you helping him with that if he’s not even trying?”
You answer every time, patient and straightforward. She doesn’t always agree, but she listens.
And sometimes, she helps—just not the way you would.
Two kids start arguing over markers, you’re halfway through your usual “sharing is caring” speech when she cuts in flatly.
“There’s two blue ones, stop crying or I’m taking both.”
The kids go quiet instantly, staring at her with wide-eyed.
Then they hand over the markers without another word.
You bite your lip to keep from laughing. She catches you looking.
“What?” she mutters.
“Nothing. Just… worked, that’s all.” you say, smiling.
She doesn’t smile, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth before she looks away.
—
Later that night, when you’re pinning up the flyer with the weekend’s schedule, you see her standing nearby, watching.
“You working this weekend?” you ask casually.
“Maybe,” she replies.
You nod, pretending not to sound disappointed. “Shame, there’s a fundraiser on Saturday, we’re painting a mural for the kids centre.”
Her eyes shift to you, unreadable. “That’s what the brushes were for?”
“Yeah, should be fun, Cheol’s excited about it.”
She hums, noncommittal, but her hand lingers on the edge of the bulletin board before she turns away, her fingertips brushing over the flyer.
—
You see her again on Thursday.
She arrives just as you’re leaving, arms full of fundraiser posters you promised to drop off. You’re awkwardly trying to balance the stack against your chest and nudge the front door open with your hip when she steps forward silently, pulling it open for you.
You smile kindly, “Thanks.”
She nods, stepping aside “Where are you going?”
“Just the community centre,” you explain, shifting the posters, “Fundraiser stuff.”
You expect her to say nothing. But she adjusts the zipper on her jacket and mutters, “I’ll come.”
She walks beside you, head down against the breeze, now carrying a few of the posters.
You realise this is the first time you’ve seen her outside the shelter. Same clothes, same posture, but she feels different out here—more out of place, like she’d rather disappear into the background if she could.
You glance over. “You don’t have to stay the whole time.”
“I know.”
There’s a pause, then she adds, “I just didn’t want to go in yet.”
You nod. You get it.
—
The community centre is an old post office with bad lighting and floors that never quite look clean. You leave the posters with the receptionist while Sae-byeok waits by the door, arms crossed
“You ever been in here?” you ask when you’re leaving.
She shakes her head.
“Looks exactly as depressing as the outside does,” you tell her.
She exhales sharply. You don’t know if it’s a laugh, but it’s close.
On the walk back, she asks, “You still need people for that mural?”
You glance at her, surprised she’s bringing it up. “Always, we’ll probably run out of brushes before hands.”
She just hums in response, but you catch her sneaking a look at you from the corner of her eye.
—
Friday afternoon, Cheol proudly shows you a drawing of the three of you—him, you, and Sae-Byeok. It’s crooked, badly proportioned. Your arms are too long, Sae-byeok’s face is a single angry line, and Cheol drew himself with a cape.
You show it to her that night, she stares at it longer than you expect.
“l don’t look like that,” she finally says.
You laugh. “I mean…I’d say the frown's pretty accurate.”
She snorts, barely, but it’s there.
You pin the drawing to the bulletin board in the common room anyway.
She watches, hands in her pockets.
“He’s proud of you,” you say.
She doesn’t answer, but she watches the drawing for a little longer.
—
Later that night, you’re both leaving at the same time.
She reaches the door before you, pulls it open without comment.
“You walking?” she asks, not looking at you.
“Yeah.”
She pulls her hood up, “I’ll walk with you.”
You glance at her. “You don’t have to—”
“I didn’t ask,” she cuts in, already stepping onto the sidewalk.
—
Halfway down the block, she hesitates, “So… this mural thing.”
You glance over, “What about it?”
“You’re just painting with a bunch of kids?”
“And some teens, a few adults, mostly chaos. But It’ll be great.”
She hums, unconvinced.
“Seriously,” you add, “You don’t even have to talk to anyone, just paint next to me, scowl a little, they’ll assume you’re in charge.”
She huffs, rolling her eyes, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at her mouth.
When you reach your street, you slow. “This is me.”
She stops, nodding once, her hands still in her pockets.
You hesitate, “Thanks for walking with me.”
She shrugs, “It’s not a big deal.”
You’re halfway up your path when she calls quietly, “Hey.”
You turn.
She doesn’t quite meet your eyes, “See you tomorrow?”
Your smile creeps in before you can stop it, “Yeah, tomorrow.”
She doesn’t smile back, but she lingers a few a seconds longer than she needs to before turning and disappearing down the street.
