Park Jay - Tumblr Posts

HIII A LOT OF U GUYS VOTED AND I'M GONNA WRITE THE STORY BUT THERE IS ONE MORE QUESTION LEFT !

LET'S START YAYYYYYYY

summary Getting stuck in a mystery world with all your ex crush and the boy of your dreams aka your current crush

pairing enhypen x reader

genre Romance

warnings none for this chapter

word count 0.3k

Trailer ♡

You woke up cuz you wanted to drink water after having a scary nightmare so you opened your bedroom door , you were half asleep but you needed to stay hydrated. You went downstairs and drank a glass of water and came back upstairs but when you opened your bedroom door, you entered an unfamiliar place , a forest to be exact. But how ?

You pinched your cheek and winced because of the sudden pain in your cheek. And now you were sure that you weren't dreaming but how can a person teleport to a random place ? What the hell is happening? You started to panic like crazy , you started to search for the door from which you entered this mystery place.

" Y/n ? " Someone called your name , you turned and saw 7 familiar faces, you saw seven boys , luckily you knew them very well but you weren't actually that happy to see them.

How did you end up here? Will you be able to go back home ? Are these 7 familiar faces going to be any help? How did they end up here ?

So many questions came to your mind.

Hope you like it !!!!

live for this on god

the enha universe (masterlist)

welcome, to the enha universe! 

in this universe, the seven boys live their own respective lives as normal everyday people. a fuckboy, a boss, a roommate, a stepbrother, a best friend, a co-worker and a bad boy. follow them as they have fun, learn, grow, break some poor hearts and of course fall in love… with you.

warning/genre; fluffffff! angst! crack! super cliched storylines! smut & perhaps kinky shit 🤪 (obviously only for hyung line!) 

the hyung line kinks

the enha universe spoilers

the enha universe asks

!latest update! eight (niki nishimura)

Keep reading

paring! - popular!jay! x reader

genre! - fluff, comedy, slight angst

summary! - yn has a rough childhood with her father dying in an earthquake and a new stepmother with two awful stepdaughters. but on the bright side, yn has an awesome best friend named jungwon and an online relationship with a guy who goes by nomad. one day, yn gets a message from her nomad saying that he wants to meet her in the middle of the dance floor at their high school halloween dance. she accepts the invitation and realizes that her online friend is the most popular guy in school, jay park.

this is based off of a 2004 movie! i DO NOT own the story!

enhypen masterlist!

**SLOW UPDATES!!

scene one,

act one

act two

act three

act four

act five

act six

scene two,

act one

act two

~join the taglist here :)

FRIENDZONED

**oh god not the heart eyes

a/n ~ let’s ignore the fact that it’s 1 am as i post this..

next | previous | masterlist

summary! - nishimura yn has been pining for her best friend jay park since 7th grade, but she’s well aware that jay will continue to be oblivious and had accepted that she’s stuck in the friendzone, that is until she befriends a foreign exchange student from australia and jay can’t help but feel jealous over how quick yn and her new friend are bonding

taglist! (join here) ~ @beans-and-jeanes @ckline35

✰𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬✰

┆Warnings: Break up joke, suggestive if you squint

Hi, guys. I'm sorry, I'm gonna postpone the release date for Part 1. It's not finished and I feel like I can do better. I'll update you. I hope you can understand :)

@un06 @naviiy @lilyuwon @kangseulgithegreat @seungielvr @saturdayssvillain @wonenonly @msauthor @nshmrarki @sakanelli-afc @b3tt7boop @yunjinswifee @lucycarlisleswife @lol6posts

𝔖𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 (𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴)

Synopsis: 𝘐𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

Wc: 238

A/N: 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘤! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘣 😭🤞𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘯𝘨-𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 12𝘵𝘩 𝘑𝘶𝘭𝘺 <3

~°•{❦}•°~

It was an awful feeling. A concoction of betrayal and fear that twisted your stomach and punched through your chest.

You fought to escape your father’s arms as he carried you toward the town square.

There was no warning. Only your parents’ footsteps as they walked into your room and grabbed you while you were sleeping.

You shouted your throat raw all the way to the bonfire. Your father set you down on the ground, holding you firmly to prevent you from getting away. Someone pushed you against a nearby stake and your wrists were tied behind it. You struggled, voice hoarse as you protested, but all you managed was rope burn and splinters.

You went still, glaring up at your father. “How could you?”

His eyes shone in the firelight as he met your accusatory gaze. “We had to.”

Tendrils of hurt squeezed your heart and throat, but you held back the tears, keeping your voice steady as you spoke. “Tell yourself that once I’m gone. Maybe it will help you sleep when you’re kept awake knowing I won’t be coming back alive.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then he was pulled backwards.

“Enough. It’s nearly midnight, they’ll be here soon.”

The mayor glanced at you over your father’s shoulder. You met his gaze with an icy stare. He was the one who came up with this pact in the first place. He was the one who chose which girls would be offered up. Just how many deaths was he responsible for? Just how much blood was on his hands?

You looked to the clockface set above the community hall doors.

11: 57.

Three minutes until you met your fate.

~°•{❦}•°~

Taglist: Open

Moonstruck new Chaconne? 👀 (Dunno abt u, but it's got me feeling some typa way)

𝔖𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 {𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴}

Genre: vampire au, reverse harem, angst, smut

Synopsis: You're the next victim of your village's practice. The next to be offered to the vampires. You would think this is the end for you. But you're in for a surprise...

A/N: This may look/sound familiar. I'm working on the fic right now, but it's different from the original preview, hence why I'm making a new one. Comment if you want to be on the tag list, I promise I'm going ahead with this one 😅

☆✡☆✧☆✡☆✧𖤐†𖤐✧☆✡☆✧☆✡☆

It's quiet at the dinner table, aside from the occasional sound of cutlery against a bowl. You've barely touched your stew. You've spent the past ten minutes swirling your spoon through it rather than actually eating. Your appetite is gone, the anxious knot in your stomach from earlier taking its place. You look at the dining room window, concealed behind the drapes. If they were open, you'd be able to see the town square. The podium where the mayor will give his speech. The soon-to-be-lit bonfire that will serve as a beacon. The thick post where a girl will be bound by midnight.

It's a scene you've witnessed only once in person, but is now engraved into your memory for good. Your parents had only taken you because you'd asked. You'd only asked because Ella Nuttal was the sacrifice that winter. The baker's daughter. Your friend.

In hindsight, you wish you'd never gone. Even if it was to say goodbye. You're sure her desperate cries for help will haunt the back of your mind until you're nearing death and most of your memories are gone.

Your grandmother's voice breaks through your reverie. "What's going on with you tonight?"

☆✡☆✧☆✡☆✧𖤐†𖤐✧☆✡☆✧☆✡☆

𝔖𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 | 𝔒𝔫𝔢

A/N: I finally made a start! I sincerely hope you enjoy it <3 The biggest thank you to @un06 for helping me every step of the way.

Synopsis: You live in a village where girls are offered to the vampires that live in the woods that border the town. You're next. And you're in for a surprise.

Warnings: swearing and mild violence

Part one / Part two / Part three

It’s a beautiful day. The air is warm enough to heat your skin, but not too hot where it’s an effort to breathe. The scent of flowers and fresh-made goods is everywhere, accompanied by the sound of casual conversations and children’s laughter. The town centre is busy today. It seems almost the whole village is out enjoying the first day of summer– a welcome relief from the gloomy spring just gone.

It’s a beautiful day… and yet there’s tension in the air.

You know everybody can sense it. That they’d rather focus on their daily errands than the practice planned for tonight. Maybe they can ignore it. But you can’t dismiss the unease in your stomach as you near the town square. The flutter in your chest as you pass through, seeing the council workmen erect the post and pile logs for the bonfire.

You quicken your pace, your hold on the paper bag in your arms tightening like a vice.

***

Your skirt swishes around your ankles as you practically leap through the front door. You gently close it behind you and lean against it, taking a moment to breathe in the comforting scent of your grandmother’s house. You exhale slowly, shedding the bad feeling from outside and letting it melt away as you make your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

Not much has changed around here since you were little. The same faded leather couch and sturdy coffee table sit in front of the same roaring fire that you’d spent hours upon hours in front of playing and reading. The same elaborate tapestries and oil paintings are arranged neatly across the slightly-yellowed walls. The same stale smell of cigarettes lingers from when your grandfather was still alive.

A lot has stayed the same, except the photographs that used to flow through the house.

Back when you were young, you used to admire the pictures of your mother. Her life. From her as a toddler sitting on your grandfather’s lap, to her sitting by the river as a teenager, to her wedding photos with your father. Your grandparents wanted to remember all the little things. They wanted their daughter to as well. So they captured the memories of your mother and displayed them proudly around the home. Then, obviously, there were the family photos. Ones including you and your older sister, Emily. Your grandmother’s house had always been like a photo album; a gallery for your family’s memories.

Now, a lot of those photos are gone. Taken down, shoved into chests, replaced.

You walk into the kitchen and place the groceries on the counter, taking your time to unpack the ingredients. As you fill a pot with water, there are footsteps behind you and your grandmother appears.

“Where’s my greeting, hm?” The corners of her thin lips are turned up in that cheeky smile of hers. Your grandmother may be from a different generation, but her spirit has always been ahead of her time.

You look over your shoulder as you shut off the tap, mirroring her smile as you place the pot on the stove. “Sorry, Nanna. I thought I’d make a start on dinner, so you didn’t have to.”

Her smile widens, growing warmer. She comes up beside you and squeezes your arm affectionately. “Thank you, darling.”

You turn and start peeling vegetables. Your grandmother falls into line next to you and dices them, the two of you working together under comfortable silence.

***

It’s quiet at the dinner table, aside from the occasional sound of cutlery against a bowl. You’ve barely touched your stew. You’ve spent the past ten minutes swirling your spoon through it rather than actually eating. Your appetite is gone, the anxious knot in your stomach from earlier taking its place. You look at the dining room window, concealed behind the drapes. If they were open, you’d be able to see the town square. The podium where the mayor will give his speech. The soon-to-be-lit bonfire that will serve as a beacon. The thick post where a girl will be bound by midnight.

It's a scene you’ve witnessed only once in person, but is now engraved into your memory for good. Your parents had only taken you because you’d asked. You’d only asked because Ella Nuttal was the sacrifice that winter. The baker’s daughter, your friend. In hindsight, you wish you’d never gone. Even if it was to say goodbye. You’re sure her desperate cries for help will haunt the back of your mind until you’re nearing death and most of your memories are gone.

Your grandmother’s voice breaks through your reverie. “What’s wrong?”

You look at her, chewing your lip as the imprints of the images linger behind your eyes. “I don’t know… Something feels off.”

She sets down her spoon, the room so quiet you can hear the soft clink. “Always does these times of year.”

You shake your head. “I know. But it isn’t that. It’s more like...”

Understanding dawns on her features. “Intuition?”

You nod. “Yes.”

She exhales. A soft sigh. “Well then I don’t know what to tell you. God may have gifted some of us a sixth sense, but that doesn’t mean we always know what to do about it.”

The corners of your mouth turn down and you look down at your lukewarm stew. “I suppose you’re right.”

Your grandmother clucks her tongue, causing you to look back up at her. She offers you a small but reassuring smile. “Don’t stress, darling. There will be times when your mind tries to trick you. I was in the bank once, and I was standing near this gentleman. There was something a little odd about him. My gut was telling me to leave, that he was going to hold up the place. But then he simply did what he had to and left.”

Her anecdote makes you feel a bit better. Maybe you are getting worked up for nothing. Maybe it’s just that the night of the Offering has you on edge. You take a breath, consciously relaxing your spine and shoulders. You chuckle. “Thanks, Nanna. I needed that.”

She smiles again and picks up her spoon. “You’re welcome, dear.”

You wrap your fingers around the ornate silver spoon and take your first mouthful of dinner. As you thought, it’s lukewarm and the carrot and beef aren’t as tender, but it’s still delicious.

***

As you wash the final plate and place it on the draining rack, there’s a knock at the front door. You look over your shoulder, in the general direction of the noise.

“I’ll get it,” your grandmother calls from the living room. You hear the modest heels of her shoes move across the floorboards in a steady click, clack, click, clack rhythm.

You leave the kitchen, heading down the hall toward the stairs. Now that your chores are done for the night, you plan on settling in your room and reading for a bit. You reach the foot of the staircase just as your grandmother reaches the door. You begin climbing the steps as she turns the lock and opens it.

“Samuel, Raymond!” You can hear the smile in her voice and the corners of your mouth twitch in response. But you do wonder why Sam and Ray are here. You shake it off as you continue up the stairs and their voices fade into a string of muffled words in the background.

And then you falter.

You frown and strain your ears. You can just make out Ray’s voice. Impatient and harsh. You hear your grandmother’s voice. Small and surprised.

Your heart starts to pick up speed, goosebumps prickling your arms and neck. Your muscles tense and you grip the wooden railing so tight your knuckles hurt.

They’re here for you.

There’s a shout, followed by a crash and a shocked cry. Heavy footsteps approach the stairs and you run. Taking the steps two at a time while trying to stay light on your feet. You can’t let them hear you. Adrenalin courses through your veins as you dash into your grandmother’s room at the end of the hallway. You shut the door as quickly but quietly as you can. Your eyes dart around the dark room, desperately searching for a place to hide. They land on the dumbwaiter on the right wall. You climb into the tight box, curling in on yourself to fit. You close the small square door before reaching for the rope, tugging on it and lowering yourself out of sight.

Then you wait.

Even from here, tucked away inside the wall, you can hear Sam and Ray searching for you. Doors being thrown open, frustrated voices, furniture being moved around.

Your heart is beating powerfully in your chest. So hard you can almost feel it against your leg. You bury your face between your knees, body shaking almost violently. You try taking a deep breath but your chest is too tight.

There’s a muffled bang.

They’re here.

Your arms tighten around your legs and you bury your face further into your knees. You hold your breath, trying to hear what’s going on through the ringing in your ears.

“… don’t have time for this.”

“Relax. She’s gotta be in here somewhere.”

After a minute of rummaging, you hear the closet door slam. “Dammit!”

“Maybe she snuck downstairs,” Sam suggests.

“Wait a minute.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Ray’s footsteps come closer. Closer. They stop, just outside the dumbwaiter. You itch with the urge to run, feeling like you could jump out of your skin. But there’s nowhere to go. You’re trapped.

The hatch lifts, scraping against the edges of the square opening like fingernails on a chalkboard. You bite down on your lip until a metallic taste spreads into your mouth.

You remain silent, even after Ray spots you. He chuckles and grabs the rope, pulling it and slowly bringing you into view. He sneers, eyes raking over your quivering form. “There you are, princess.”

He seizes your arm and drags you out, the ledge digging painfully into your soft flesh before you fall to the floor. You wince, flipping onto your butt and scrambling backward.

Ray clucks his tongue before grabbing your ankle and pulling you back. “No, no, no. You’re not going anywhere, darlin’.”

Sam steps forward and grabs your arm. Ray takes hold of the other and they haul you upright. As they lug you down the hallway, your head is spinning, your vision is swimming and suddenly nothing feels real. A dull pain shoots up your ankle as it snags on one of the steps, but you barely notice.

The men lead you through the entryway and you finally see your grandmother. Unconscious. Sprawled on the floor beside the tipped-over side table, pieces of the broken vase scattered around her.

“Nanna!” you scream, tugging against the men’s grasp as you experience a rush of clarity. They hold you back and haul you past her limp form, out the front door. “No!” you cry, still fighting. Oh god, what if she’s dead? What if she’s dead?

Tears stain your cheeks as you desperately try to escape, but the men ignore your attempts, carting you toward the town square.

***

Your stomach drops when you arrive. It’s been years since you came to an Offering, and even then, it’s a completely different experience when you’re the one being offered.

The air carries a weighted kind of heat, and you can taste as well as smell the woodsmoke drifting from the fire and over the square. Majority of the village has gathered, surrounding the mayor’s podium and the post as they wait. The low hum of their chatter is like white noise.

“Out the way!” Ray yells over the chatter as he and Sam jostle their way through the crowd.

People exclaim and turn, complaints dying on their tongues as they lay eyes on you. Mouths agape and eyes wide, soft gasps escaping their lips as they whisper to the people next to them.

There’s a squeeze around your heart. This isn’t the first time you’ve been the talk of the town. Not the first time people have regarded you with sympathy and pity.

They say bad things come in threes. In that case, you should’ve known something else would happen. Just another thing to break your world apart. Well… This is number three. Maybe this is finally the end.

Who are you kidding? Of course it is. There’s not going to be anything after this. Once those vampires come for you, that’s it.

Sam and Ray drag you over to the post and slam you against it, your spine hitting the wood with a loud and painful thud that knocks the wind out of you for a few seconds. Sam brings your wrists behind you and ties them around the post. Then your ankles are bound and you’re trapped in place.

You almost feel numb. Your mind racing with so many fragmented thoughts that it’s difficult to put your finger on just one emotion.

You’re scared of being taken. Scared of the unknown. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of dying.

You’re worried about your grandmother.

But you’re also angry. Angry that the mayor chose you. Angry that life has thrown you yet another curveball. Angry that you were just beginning to move on from Emily and your parents and it was all for nothing.

You feel a prickle along your waterline and you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

The square goes quiet. A robust young man steps up to the podium. His oily hair catches the light of the moon and nearby flames. He smooths out his suit as he clears his throat. He adjusts the microphone and looks out at the crowd.

“Good evening, people of Riverfield.” He pauses. Glances down. Sighs. “I never know what to say on the night of the Offering. I can’t say welcome, or thank you for coming because being here is not a positive thing. It’s a goodbye. We are handing yet another young woman to the vampires that have prowled our woods for the past several decades.” Another pause. “When I took over this role from my father, I didn’t want to continue this practice. However, I came to realise that I wasn’t willing to risk the lives of the town just to test whether or not it was needed. So, as awful as it is, we are gathered here again. This time to say goodbye to Y/N.”

The mayor looks over at you, and you see the guilt in his eyes. And you want to believe him. Believe his seemingly genuine words and face. But almost anyone can act. And at the end of the day, he still chose you, and you’ll still be gone.  

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “I can’t say anything to make this better. But please know we will all miss you, and I hope that whatever comes next for you is painless and peaceful.”

He looks up at the clockface set in the wall of the church and a few other people follow his gaze.

6:53pm.

“We have seven minutes until they arrive,” the mayor calls. “Everybody please return to your homes and take care. Goodnight.”

And just like that, everyone starts to leave. Just file out of the square and leave you behind.

***

6:58pm.

You stare at the clock as you frantically attempt to fray the rope binding your wrists. Your arms hurt from moving up and down, and your wrists sting with splinters. But it feels like you’re getting somewhere.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you mutter, screwing up your features as you feel the rope going slack.

6:59pm.

It finally breaks and you pull your hands free. You bend down and untie your ankles, staggering forward and feeling the pins and needles shoot up your leg. You curse under your breath, looking around and trying to decide what to do. You can’t go home. You don’t know what the consequences would be for escaping; it’s never happened before. But you doubt it would be pleasant. You look over your shoulder at the road leading out of the village.

The church bell tolls, making you jolt as the heavy clang vibrates the atmosphere.

7:00pm.

Your heart speeds up as adrenalin floods back into your bloodstream. They’ll be here any second. You have no other choice. You turn and bolt for the road.

You wince, almost losing balance as you attempt to run with a dead leg. You recover, ignoring it. It will go away soon enough. You’ve got to get out of here.

You cut across the square– past the church, the community hall, the school. You keep your eyes locked on the road out, letting the adrenalin and your instincts guide you. As you get closer, your chest feels lighter. A sense of relief spreading over you at the thought that you’re going to be free.

Then a stab of pain shoots through your foot.

You cry out, lurching to the side and falling to the ground. You sit up, clutching your foot and looking down to see a shard of glass poking out. You look around and see a broken beer bottle lying in the grass nearby.

“Shit.”

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, before yanking the glass out of the wound. You whimper a little, chucking it to the side.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?”

You freeze as a man’s voice calls out to you. You force yourself to look up, heart in your throat.

Oh god.

Oh god, no.

You scramble to your feet, staring wide-eyed at the unfamiliar men standing at the edge of town square. And you don’t have time to think. You run for your life.

To be continued...

Taglist: @un06 @naviiy @lilyuwon @kangseulgithegreat @seungielvr @saturdayssvillain @wonen-only @msauthor @nshmrarki @sakanelli-afc @b3tt7boop @yunjinswifee @lucycarlisleswife @lol6sposts @fandommaniac07 @strxwbloody @toodeloosoo @jungwonmeover

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Dividers by @dollywons

you find their porn stash - enhypen hyung line

pairing: enhypen hyung line x female reader genre: comedy, smut-ish au: friends to lovers rating: 18+ mdni warnings: veerrryyyyy suggestive, mentions of porn (duh), slight mentions of kinks, a sneaky kms joke a/n: it's apparently my goal to make as many feet jokes as i can..sorry..also i refuse to call twitter 'x' lmao

a/n: ♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!

requests open ♡ masterlist

all rights reserved jayparked 09/10/24 do not copy, repost, or translate

Where are y'all making these cool headers for your fics?? I really wanna make one but idk where to do it. Please let me know how you guys are doing it 🙏

𝔖𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 | 𝔗𝔴𝔬

A/N: Ayy part two's here!! I just realised it's been a few weeks since part one, my bad y'all I'm releasing these as I finish them, so updates might be a little slower. I had fun writing this part, I hope you enjoy it!

And a massive thanks to my editor/cheerleader @un06 for everything she's done so far <33

Synopsis: You find yourself in the vampire's house. One of them isn't as bad as you would think... Somewhat friendly even. But you won't let yourself lose sight of your goal. To get away.

Warnings: None (yet)

Part one / part two / Part three

“Oh, you wanna run, gorgeous? Go ahead. We love a game of chase.”

You barely register his words through the pounding in your ears. You’ve never been this afraid. This desperate to get away. Your entire body is thrumming as you sprint toward the road out of Riverfield.

You finally reach it and for a moment you feel a sense of hope. Like maybe you can do this. Maybe you will be okay. You’re aware of the self-generated breeze fanning your face and tousling your hair. You’re aware of your feet barely touching the ground, and it feels like the closest you’ll ever get to flying. It feels like a taste of freedom.

Then you see a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye.

You look. Just a glance.

Your heart almost gives out. You don’t notice much about the man, just that he’s a few feet to your left and quickly gaining on you. You also catch the wicked smile on his face and his black eyes locked on you like an eagle targeting prey.

You push yourself to your limit, willing your legs to move faster.

You hear a chuckle. “Scared, princess?”

Another voice, more confident. “We’re gonna get you, love.”

Your throat seizes up, and you know– heart sinking past your stomach– that he’s right. You’re struggling to breathe, stitches cramping your sides. Your legs ache, feeling heavier with each step. You can’t keep this up much longer.

Tears build in your eyes, blurring your vision as you desperately try to continue running. But you’re slowing down, your body slowly giving up on you.

No. No, no, no. Please.

You feel an arm wrap around your waist and you let out a strangled scream. There’s a split second before you hit the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of your already worn form.

You’re flipped onto your back and the man straddles you, pinning you down. You force your eyes to stay open. Try to focus on his face, his words.

He studies you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He grabs your jaw and tilts your head so you’re meeting his gaze. “Tag,” he says in a low voice. He leans down and whispers, “You’re it.”

Your chest heaves as your consciousness begins to fade.

No. Stay awake, stay awake, stay–

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel all your energy draining away.

The man lets go of your jaw and your head drops to the side. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

***

You wake slowly, drifting away from sleep despite wanting to remain there. Even once you come to, you keep your eyes shut, nestling your face into the pillow and drawing the covers up to your chin. It’s so warm and comfortable here, there’s no way you’re getting up just yet.

You shift onto your back. Pain shoots up your spine and through your limbs. A dull but noticeable ache all over your body. You wince, going still.

Then… gradually… it all comes back to you. It starts with a feeling, like something is off. Then a few murky memories– nothing more than blurry images, like you’re trying to recall a dream. Then everything comes rushing back, hitting you like a truck– the images as vivid as when they were happening.

Sam and Ray. Your nanna. The Offering. Running away. The vampires–

You open your eyes and sit upright, ignoring the pain in your muscles.

The room you’re in is fairly simple. A timber dresser with a mirror hung above it. A large window covered with a lace curtain. The double bed that you are currently in and a rug underneath it.

You tenderly pull back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You stand cautiously, hoping the floorboards beneath your feet won’t betray your movements. Silence. You tiptoe to the window and peer through the lace at the outside world, wondering where you’ve ended up.

The woods. Of course.

You move the curtain aside and study any possible route for escape. Getting down should be easy. There’s a balcony right there and if needed, you can tie sheets to the railing and climb down. You duck behind the lace curtain and grip the top of the window. You try pushing it up, but it’s jammed. You try again. It still won’t budge. You inspect the frame, eyes narrowing when you spot a translucent yellow stripe connecting the window to the sill.

They sealed the window shut? Jesus.

You run your finger over the material and it feels slightly rubbery. You might be able to cut through it, if you can get your hands on something sharp enough.

There’s a knock on the door and your muscles tense, your body going into fight, flight or freeze. The door swings open and a tall man strolls in like he owns the place (well, technically he does), carrying a plate of food. He uses his foot to close the door behind him, then places the plate on the bedside table. Only then does he finally look at you, sliding his hands into his jean pockets.

“Good morning, sunshine. I figured you’d be hungry.” He nods to the food.

You stare at him for a moment, brows furrowed and suspicion in your gaze as your eyes flick between him and the food. “You really think I’m going to eat that? Who knows what you could’ve put in it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, eat it and risk it being poisoned or don’t eat it and starve yourself. Your choice.”  

You blink, surprised by his attitude. You don’t know what you were expecting from a vampire, but it sure as hell wasn’t sass. You quickly gather yourself. “I’m good.”

The man shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He turns and picks the plate up, taking a bite of scrambled egg.

Your caution almost melts away as you continue to stare at him with mild disbelief. This is what you were so terrified of?

“Stop staring,” the man says without looking up. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

You cross your arms. “Of course they did, but I’m not going to waste them on some bratty vampire.” The words just spill out. You’re so used to using sarcasm, it slips your mind that you’re talking to one of your captors. You freeze again, worried you’ve just pissed him off.

But he just laughs, looking at you. “I’m bratty? I’m simply doing what I have the right to do, seeing as this is my house.”

He puts the plate down, walking slowly around the bed, and you instinctively take a step back.

“You’re like a frightened cat. It’s cute.” He smiles teasingly and it emphasises his youthful features. You hadn’t taken much notice, but he looks young. Like, the kind of young where maybe referring to him as a man is a bit of a stretch. If you had to guess, he’s probably close to eighteen or nineteen.

“What is it?” he asks, stopping a couple feet in front of you. He towers over you, looking down at you curiously. It would be more intimidating if he wasn’t so… normal. He doesn’t appear much different from any other teenage boy. You’re not sure he’s even a vampire.

You clear your throat, looking up at him. “It’s just– I– You–”

His grin widens at your stuttering and it irritates you. You take a second to compose yourself.

“How old are you?” you manage to ask.

He puts his hands in his pockets again. “As in how old should I be, or how old do I look?”

“Um... the second one?”

“Nineteen. What, am I not what you were expecting?”

“Well, not really, no,” you admit.

He smirks. “Let me guess. You were thinking Edward Cullen? Or maybe Dracula?”

Your lips twitch and you almost crack a smile. “No. I don’t know what I was expecting. But it wasn’t you.”

The guy smiles. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“So what’s your name, anyway?”

“You first.”

Really? You cross your arms again. “Y/N.”

His eyes narrow as he thinks something over. “Hm. I’m going to call you neko.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Japanese for cat.”

Your arms fall by your sides. “What? I’m not a cat!” you protest.

“You are now.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Why are you so offended? Cats are cute.”

“I don’t want a nickname from you.”

“Well now I’m offended,” the guy says, but he’s still smirking.

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?” you shoot back.

“Riki.”

You scoff and he crosses his arms, frowning at you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you say, fighting a smile.

He shoves his hands back into his pockets. “Whatever.” He takes a step back, turns around and walks over to the plate of food. He picks it up, then heads for the door. “See you later, neko,” he says on his way out.

You grit your teeth as he shuts the door, not missing the smirk on his face at your reaction.

***

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the last time you saw Riki. He came back the next day. And the next.

And now he’s back again, not bothering to wait after knocking before waltzing in.

You look up from your spot on the bed and eyeball today’s meal. It’s a sandwich. A rather delicious looking sandwich, loaded with fillings.

You’d had to give in a couple days ago, when the hunger became too much and you realised you’d have to eat eventually anyway.

Riki hands the plate to you and you take it, picking up the sandwich and taking a large bite.

“Mm… Thanks.” Your voice is muffled as you chew.

“No problem, neko.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t waste energy arguing with him about the new nickname. It seems to have stuck, and it’s probably going to stay that way.

Riki makes himself comfortable on the end of the bed. “The guys are getting impatient.”

You swallow and look up. “What?”

“The others. It’s day four. They’re not going to wait much longer.”

“For what?”

“You may be dumb, but I think you know.”

You ignore the playful jab and glance at the closed door. Yeah. You know. “They want to meet me, huh?”

“That too.”

You frown. “What do you mean, that too?”

Riki pauses for a second. “We’re due to feed again,” he says.

Just this once, you wish he wasn’t so blunt. The sandwich churns in your stomach. “Right.”

“Don’t worry, neko. It’s not as bad as people think. You didn’t even notice last time.”

You squint at him. “Last time?”

 He gestures to your right arm. “The night we took you, we drew some blood while you were passed out.”

You look at your inner elbow, at the faded mark there. It’s just a dot. You’d barely noticed it at first. “You use an IV or something?”

He nods. “Something like that. It’s called venipuncture. It’s the least painful and messy method.”

“Careful there. You almost sounded considerate.”

He chuckles, then the light-hearted sound fades into the silence.

It’s funny. Apparently, there’s six other men in this house, but you’ve never heard signs of any of them. Except Riki. And if you’re being honest with yourself, as irritating as he can be… you enjoy his company. Truthfully, you don’t know what you’d do without him to break up the monotony of the day. If you were just left to sit here for hours on end with nothing to do apart from stare out the window, at the trees and maybe the occasional bird. You’re pretty sure Riki has been the only thing keeping you sane.

“Want me to be honest, Y/N?” Riki asks, breaking the silence.

You sigh. “Not really, but we both know that’s not gonna stop you.”

His lips curl slightly, then his expression goes serious. “You’re right to stay here.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is hide,” you say, pushing the sandwich aside.

“Whatever you want to call it, it’s a smart move. I don’t think you would’ve coped well throwing yourself in the deep end and going out there on the first day.”

You look at him, genuine worry swirling deep in your eyes. “Is it really that bad?” you ask quietly.

Riki studies you and his expression softens. “Depends what you define as bad. But I can assure you, we won’t hurt you. But– that said– the others won’t go easy on you. They’re going to toy with you, try and get in your head, break through any walls you put up until you give in. I’ve been with these guys a long time. I’ve seen a lot of Offerings, a lot of young women just like you in this house, and I know the boys treat this like a competition. Like a game. Vampires are possessive, that’s the one thing the stereotypes got right. Every man in this house is going to want you, and there’s not much you can do about it.”

“Including you?” you ask with a weak smile, attempting to use humour to distract yourself from the dread winding in your chest.

Riki smirks softly. “No. I’m not saying that you aren’t pretty, but I won’t try anything. With you or any other girl that comes through here.”

“Wow. So you do have some respect.”

He laughs. “Look,” he says, tone turning serious again. “I know you’ve only known me for a few days. And that even then, you barely know me. But I want you to know I’m here to help you whenever you need me.”

You meet his gaze, not missing the shift of the energy in the room. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“Because,” he says. “You’re about to go through a lot and you’ll need someone in your corner.”                   

He notices you staring absent-mindedly at the wall and he shuffles closer. “I’m sorry for freaking you out, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I’m just trying to prepare you. I promise it won’t be as horrible as whatever you’re cooking up in your head right now. It will just be… intense, at times. But you seem like you’re strong enough to handle it. And you have me. You’ll be okay.”

Another beat of silence passes before you speak up. “Will you do me a favour? Will you go with me when I finally go out there?”

“Of course.” Riki pauses. Glances at the door. “Why don’t we go now?”

You look at him wide-eyed. “Are you crazy? After everything you just said?”

He smiles. “May as well get it done, right? Besides, you’re better off meeting the others before they get fed up and storm in here.”

“Stop saying shit to scare me!”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry! It’s not my fault you’re a scaredy cat.”

“We were having a moment and you ruined it.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “What can I say? I speak my mind.”

“Well then get a filter.”

“Stop procrastinating.”

You sniff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not procras–”

Riki stands up, adjusting and smoothing out his clothes. “Come on, Y/N.”

You hesitate, looking up at him like an animal putting their trust in a stranger. You don’t see much difference, really. They’re the people, you’re the deer. Maybe they want to hunt you and put you on display, or maybe they just plan on admiring you. But you won’t find out until it’s too late.

You feel the paranoia start to creep in, like fog settling over a crisp morning. What if… Riki’s like the bait? What if he was sent in here just to lure you out? You’ve been taking his presence for granted the past couple days, but… it could all be fake.

Riki’s smile drops and he looks at you with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

You stay quiet, feeling restless all of a sudden. You glance around the room, at the dresser, the wall, the window–

Wait.

The window. You remember the seal, the only thing preventing you from getting out.

You have to get out.

You look back at Riki. “Yeah, sorry. My mind was just…”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I get it, this is a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“So… are you ready?”

You take a moment, chewing your lip, before getting off the bed. You wobble slightly, your legs taking time to wake up after you’ve spent so long sitting down. “Not really, but… I guess you’re right. Might as well do it sooner rather than later.”

Riki quirks a brow. “You’re sure? I wouldn’t want your heart giving out or something.”

“Shut up before I change my mind.” You walk over to the door, your fingers wrapping around the handle. You take a breath, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

You swing open the door, the smell of aged wood and old wallpaper wafting up your nose. It’s familiar. It reminds you of home, of Nanna. Your newfound courage wavers for a second before you take another quiet breath, drawing back your shoulders and straightening your spine.

You look over your shoulder and see Riki watching you with an impressed gleam in his eyes. He offers you a small smile, comes over and stands beside you. He nods, silently nudging you to go out.

Just go.

You step out into the hall and Riki follows. There’s a window at the end, letting in some light, but it’s still dim. The dark floorboards are slightly worn, the panelling on the walls faded. There are several other doors lining the hallway, all of them shut. You glance at Riki again and he gestures to the left, stepping in front of you and leading the way.

As you walk down the hallway in Riki’s shadow, you feel skittish. Like a scared mouse. Like if there’s any sudden noise, you’ll startle and run in the opposite direction. You hate this, feeling so wound up with anxiety you could cry.

God, what happened to you? You’ve been through a lot, but you always managed to pull through. You were always strong– it was one thing people always admired about you, especially at such a young age. And after all that, now you’re going to cower and hide?

You know if Nanna were here, she’d tell you the same thing– albeit in a gentler way.

And that– the thought of your Nanna and the last time you saw her– is your turning point. You’re never going to see her again if you don’t get out of here. And how are you ever going to get out if you’re avoiding everything and everyone, rotting away in a bedroom?

You and Riki reach the end of the hallway and descend the stairs.

At the foot of the staircase, you see it opens up to a living room. It’s nice, in a vaguely ‘old money’ sort of way. There are two leather couches and three matching armchairs arranged around a wooden coffee table, all on top of an ornate rug. There are bookshelves stocked with hardcover volumes and paperback novels. The walls are painted a dark red, with the same dark wood wainscoting as the hallway, decorated with tapestries and oil paintings.

Riki leads you through the living room, and a wooden louvre door and a matching serving window come into view. You assume they lead to the kitchen.

You can hear soft shuffling on the other side of the door. You try to swallow, but it’s difficult when your mouth is running dry.

Riki grabs the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at you before opening the door. You step through after him and the first thing you notice is the man leaning against the kitchen counter. The first thing you register is that he’s tall. The second– despite yourself– is how he’s the kind of handsome where he’s pretty.

The two of you make eye contact and reality seems to slow down. Not because of how dreamy he is, or because it’s love at first sight, but because of how intimidating he is. You see the look in his eyes and you realise everything Riki warned you about is most definitely true.

The man smirks. “Look who it is.” He puts down the glass in his hand. “Finally come out of your burrow, love?”

You clear your throat quietly and step forward, standing at Riki’s side. “Yes.”

“Y/N, this is Heeseung. He’s the eldest, acts kind of like the leader around here. Heeseung, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung’s eyes sweep over you, and you have to strain not to shrink under his predatory gaze. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. It’s good to see you gained the courage to finally face us.” He picks up his drink again and takes a swig.

You grit your teeth, picking up on his condescending tone. “Pleasure to meet you too,” you say, making sure to insert some venom into your tone.

He smiles. He must be one of those types. The ones who get a kick out of riling people up.

Okay, calm and collected approach it is then.

“Can I get you anything?” Riki asks, interrupting the passive-aggressive exchange.

You tear your gaze away from Heeseung. “I’m good, thanks.”

He nods and walks over to the fridge, opening it and grabbing himself a can of soda. He pops the tab and has a mouthful. “Where is everyone?”

“Helping clean up the yard.” Heeseung places his glass in the sink.

“And you’re slacking off why?”

He chuckles. “I was going to head out after I finished my drink, and then you brought Y/N down.”

“Don’t let me interrupt anything,” you say, attempting your best polite voice.

Heeseung looks at you again. “You’re not interrupting anything, love. It’s just yard work, nothing the boys can’t handle.”

Riki claps him on the shoulder. “How about this? We can go give the others a hand, and neko here can take some time to look around and get comfortable.”

You hold back a snort. Comfortable, your ass.

Heeseung glances between you and Riki, arching a brow. “Neko?”

“It’s her new nickname. She loves it.” He grins playfully at you.

“Clearly,” Heeseung agrees, taking in your expression with an amused smile. “Well, love, I guess I’ll see you later. Feel free to explore. If you need anything, we’ll be out back, the door’s just through there.” He gestures to a doorway off to the side. It must lead to a mudroom or something.

With that, and a small wave from Riki, they head through the door and disappear from your sight.

You look around the kitchen, unsure what to do now. Then, as you stand there in the silence, something occurs to you.

You glance around once more, cautious this time. You strain to hear any signs that someone is nearby, but you only hear the birds outside.

You duck out of the kitchen and back into the living room. You notice a doorway by the staircase. You head towards it, your steps quick but light. As you draw closer, you see– with a flood of hope– that it’s the entryway… and the front door is mere metres in front of you.

 You spot a deadbolt on the door and your heart sinks, but when you inspect it, you realise it’s unlocked.

It’s too good to be true. The whole situation suddenly screams trap.

You chew your lip, looking over your shoulder. Should you turn back around and stick to the original plan of cutting the seal on the window? That might take hours, days. You’re right here. The way out, your chance of escape is staring you in the face. You can’t let it slip through your fingers.

You decide to take the risk, your fingers wrapping around the handle and slowly twisting it. A fresh breeze drifts through the crack, carrying the scent of oncoming rain and decaying leaves. You breathe it in, using it to ground yourself and steel your nerves.

You get ready to run as you open the door. Looking outside, the coast is clear. All there is to be seen is tree after tree, dead leaves covering a good portion of the ground, and dirt broken up with the occasional patch of grass.

You jog down the steps, going to turn left and run for it, when someone appears out of nowhere, blocking your path.

“You actually fell for that, huh, princess?”

You freeze, your eyes making their way from the dirt floor to the man’s face. Short dyed-blond hair, and fox-like amber eyes. He has the kind of features that give him the opportunity to appear youthful and innocent, or mature and attractive. And right now, he looks anything but innocent.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunts, leaning down to whisper in your ear. He grabs your arms and turns you around.

You see Heeseung approaching from around the side of the house. The rest of the men are behind him. Your heart starts to race and your eyes dart between them all like a cornered animal.

“You know, love, this is the second time you’ve tried to run from us.”

Heeseung stops directly in front of you, crowding your space. You feel claustrophobic, caught between the two men with nowhere to go, the adrenalin making your skin itch with the need to run. You feel like you’re overheating, like the air is evaporating and you’re struggling to breathe.

He grabs your chin, tilting your head so you’re looking up at him. “It’s also the last time, I hope you realise that,” he says in a low voice. There’s a tense pause before he speaks again. “You know, Y/N, these woods are extremely easy to get lost in. But we know them like the backs of our hands. If you try to run again, we will catch you. And trust me, you won’t like the consequences… but we will.”

He releases his hold on your face and steps aside, letting the blond steer you back inside.

 As you’re led up the stairs and down the hall, you can’t help but feel like a prisoner being taken to their cell. The man opens the door to your assigned bedroom and pushes you inside, slams it shut, followed by the click of the lock.

You stare at the door, mind reeling. As your heart slows, clarity replaces the adrenalin. You clench your jaw, feeling a sense of anger rise in your chest. You bite down on the inside of your cheek as you feel tears building behind your eyes. Without thinking, you turn around and kick the dresser as hard as you can.

You yell a curse as pain shoots up your foot. Simultaneously, the mirror above the dresser falls off its nail and crashes to the floor. You jump back to avoid the broken glass, eyes widening with surprise. You kneel beside the shattered mirror, gingerly picking up a decent-sized shard of glass. You look over your shoulder at the window, the pieces clicking together in your head, and a smile creeps across your face.

To be continued...

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A/N: Tada ✨ Chapter three is done! Coincidentally the longest chapter written in the shortest time. I really like this one, and I hope you guys will too <3

Shoutout to Rose for all her help and feedback, and for encouraging me when I'm stuck. Love you bae x

Synopsis: After another failed escape attempt, it seems like you're not going anywhere any time soon. You're still not willing to give up, but at the same time... something is changing...

Warnings: swearing, mild violence, angst (mentions of death), smut (implied noncon [in a dream], virgin!reader,loss of virginity, unprotected sex [my bad guys, don't do it], cumming inside)

Part one / Part two / Part three

The last bit of sealant falls away from the window and you don’t even have time to celebrate. You drop the mirror shard, gripping the top of the window and pushing it up. The sound of it opening and the waft of fresh air that follows makes you want to cry with relief. You swing one leg over the sill.

Then you hear the door lock click and that relief comes crashing down in a wave of oh shit.

You hesitate– eyes flickering to the door, then back to the window. You duck your head and manoeuvre yourself through. The door opens and someone steps into the room just as you fall out onto the balcony. You scramble to your feet and run for the railing, looking over the side.

“Y/N!” an angry male voice calls after you.

A thirteen foot drop, maybe? It can’t do too much damage…

With no time to consider anything else, you scramble over the railing and let yourself drop to the ground.

“Y/N– Fuck!”

For a split second, you feel weightless– but also like your stomach is going to come flying up your throat.

You land on the grass with a thud, and pain shoots up your ankle. You let out a hiss. You hear rustling, and the clanging of metal against metal, and you know he’s coming after you.

You get to your feet and the pain flares. You grit your teeth and ignore it, stumbling forward. You try to run, but as soon as you put your injured foot forward, you crumble, falling back down.

You hear him land just behind you and you start to panic. You begin crawling forward, determined to get away no matter what it takes.

You feel fingers wrap around your ankle before you’re dragged backward. You scream, thrashing and attempting to escape his hold but he pulls you back, forcing you onto your back and crouching down to look at you.

“Where do you think you’re going, angel?”

You kick out at him and try to wriggle backwards. He kneels and draws you closer, wrapping your legs around his waist and keeping them there with an iron grip. You yell again, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You never listen, do you?” The man leans closer, hovering over you. “What did Heeseung say, hm? If you tried to run away again, you’d face the consequences.”

Like that was going to stop me, you think venomously. But you can’t get the words out, your chest is too tight.

The man cocks his head. “Look at you falling apart… and we haven’t even done anything yet,” he muses, mostly to himself. He goes quiet for a moment, looking at you as you glare up at him, chest heaving. “I guess telling you wasn’t enough, huh, angel? Alright… Let me show you then.”

 He releases his bruising grip on your legs and hauls you up by your arms. You keep tugging against him, but he doesn’t let go. He gives your arm a tight squeeze.

“Stop making this harder than it needs to be, Y/N.”

“And who the fuck are you?” you spit. Not that you care.

He looks down at you, black bangs falling into his dark brown eyes. You see a small mole on the side of his nose, a slight imperfection that somehow makes him look more perfect. “I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, angel,” he says calmly.  “I’m the man who will have you begging and crying underneath me while I take what’s mine... But by all means, call me Sunghoon.” He stares down at you, watching as his words sink in.

You stare up at him, eyes wide, any protests dying on your tongue.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on.”

Sunghoon leads you back into the house via the back door. ­­­Through the kitchen, through the living room. There’s no-one else around and it’s strangely quiet. Then again, you guess it’s not that strange. This house is always still, and when you’re not face to face with one of the men, it feels like you’re the only living thing in this place.

You go up the stairs. But instead of taking you back to your room, Sunghoon stops outside a room two doors down.

“Let’s see if this changes your mind,” he says. He opens the door and it swings open slowly. It’s dark inside, and you can’t see much besides the silhouettes of some furniture. Sunghoon lets go of your arm and gestures inside. “Go on.”

You look up at him, then into the room. You hesitate, feeling nervous all of a sudden.

“Come on, angel. Don’t be scared now,” he presses with a smirk.

You grit your teeth. He’s got a point. Fear hasn’t stopped you before, why start now?

You step through the doorway and take a few tentative steps into the room. You feel a buzz under your skin, barely noticeable, but there. You swallow, fingers curling and uncurling by your sides, feeling restless.

Now that you’re inside, things become a little clearer. Everything in the room is either dark or silver. You make out a king four-poster bed made of black metal, with black bedding and a sheer black canopy over top to match. There’s a solid timber dresser with a lamp on top. Burned down candles are arranged meticulously around the room. Then, as your eyes adjust, they pick out the concerning details. Like the handcuffs attached to the bed. The bar bolted to the wall. The sofa, the weird-shaped… chair?

Oh god. This is how they punish the girls?

You stumble backwards, in a hurry to get out of the room. Sunghoon laughs from behind you, where he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“What’s wrong, angel? You don’t like it?”

“What kind of sick shit is this?” you say, eyes wide with horror.

“Sick?” He cocks a sculpted brow. “And here we always thought it was fun.” His lips twist into an amused smile.

You slowly put one foot behind the other, backing away. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“No can do.” He gets off the wall and strides toward you, fingers clasping around your arm before you have time to dodge him. “You tried to escape again,” he says as he hauls you back down the hall, down the stairs. “I have a feeling you’ll be in that room again very soon, angel. I can only hope it’s me that ends up in there with you.” He looks at you with a predatory gleam in his eye. “I’ve got a lot of things I plan on doing to you, I may as well teach you a lesson while I’m at it.”

Fuck that.

Your body reacts to your fear, and without you even realising what you’re doing, your fist comes up, aiming for Sunghoon’s face. You catch sight of his shocked expression a split second before the impact. You hear the thwack, followed by a dangerous silence. Pain spreads across your knuckles as you stare at his side profile, equally surprised. His jaw clenches, the vein in his neck popping. His body is tense, and you wait for him to strike you back.

But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything except continue leading you down the stairs.

When you reach the living room, it’s no longer empty. All of the others are lounging on the sofas and armchairs, watching as the two of you enter. Heeseung’s eyes bore into yours as you come to a stop in front of the coffee table.

“Let her go, Hoon,” Heeseung says, sitting directly across from you. His eyes are still locked on yours. “I doubt she’ll run and hide. Will you, love?”

You shake your head.

Sunghoon lets go of you and goes to sit beside one of the men who you haven’t met yet. You feel antsy, but you maintain your composure as you hold Heeseung’s gaze.

“You caused quite a commotion,” he says simply.

You open your mouth, sarcastic response ready and waiting on the tip of your tongue. But he holds up a hand.

“I don’t want a response from you. I want you to listen to me. Really listen because everyone here knows you haven’t been good at that lately.” His tone morphs from calm to irritated. “I warned you what would happen if you were stubborn enough to escape again. And what did you do? Cut the seal with a bit of broken glass and climbed through the window. I know Riki here warned you about us. You didn’t listen to him either, and he was trying to be helpful. And now you’ve punched Sunghoon in the face? Has it not occurred to you that maybe fighting us isn’t the answer and you’re better off cooperating?”

“You think I want to die?” you interject, voice loud. “Has it occurred to you that I’m doing this to protect myself, not just to make things difficult for you, you selfish prick?”

“Who said anything about death?” Heeseung says coldly.

It had only been a thought until now. A possibility lingering in the back of your mind. But now that you’ve said it aloud, your heart hammers. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Bleed girls dry until there’s nothing left, then ditch them somewhere and wait for the next Offering?”

You’re met with the weight of seven stares.

“We let the girls go,” Heeseung tells you. “What happens to them afterwards has nothing to do with us.”

“Except it does. How much blood do you take beforehand? How weak do you make them? Do you just let them walk out the front door and wander through the woods alone, trying to find a way out, knowing damn well they won’t?”

Silence. You know you’ve caught them out, that you’re right.

“You’re killers,” you continue, voice shaky. “You’re responsible for the deaths of so many young women, and you think you can sit there and tell me otherwise? I won’t let myself–”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Heeseung interrupts in a low, icy voice. “You’ll stop talking and listen to what I say next very carefully.”

You close your mouth, glaring into his eyes.

“I’m done dealing with your crap, Y/N. I’m not letting you get away with this bullshit anymore. You step out of line like that again, and I’ll let you know how dangerous I can be. You shouldn’t be worried about dying. You should be worried about what will happen if we catch you trying to run from us again. Do you understand me?”

Everything from his body language, to his tone, to the energy in the room tells you this time it’s serious. You have no doubt that if you ignore this warning, you’re screwed. There’s no winning this time around.

“Fine.”

“I said do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” you reply through gritted teeth.

You turn to leave and Heeseung clucks his tongue at you.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this that easily. I told you next time you tried to escape, there’d be consequences.”

You freeze.

“And I think it’s only fair Sunghoon takes care of it, seeing as you attacked him.”

You spin back around to see Heeseung smirking at you, and Sunghoon grinning in a way that has the hair prickling along the back of your neck. The others exchange nervous glances.

“Are you crazy?” you demand. “He’ll attack me if you leave me alone with him! Please–”

“Hold on.” One of the men stands up. He’s tall too. Short dark hair, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and strong features. “How about we just… take it easy? Just this once?”

“We have been taking it easy. You think she’s going to stop if we keep letting her get away with everything?” Heeseung says.

The man speaks calmly. “Just let me talk to her. I think it’ll help more than punishing her.”

Your eyes dart between the two men, and you pray Heeseung agrees. You don’t know the other man’s intentions, but you’re sure they’re better than whatever Sunghoon is thinking.

Heeseung looks at you, then back at the man. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work, Sunghoon gets her next time.”

Your heart thuds against your ribs as you take a breath.

The man nods, then makes his way over to you. He offers you a reassuring smile and you notice a vague dimple. “Hi, beautiful,” he whispers. “My name’s Jay. You wanna get out of here?”

You nod. You even let him hold your hand as he leads you down the hallway off the living room, grateful that he stepped in.

He stops in front of the third door on the left and opens it, stepping aside to let you in first. You pause for a moment before walking inside.

The bedroom is homely. It feels personal, lived in. Mostly thanks to the clutter on the desk, and the wrinkled sheets on the bed, and the small pile of clothes on the floor.

You make your way to the desk and sit down in the office chair. Jay perches on the edge of his bed, facing you. You wait for Jay to say something. You figure that’s the reason you’re here.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “You know, we’ve never encountered a girl like you before. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had our fair share of fighters. But never anyone as determined as you.” He looks at you with something like admiration. “I’ve never known someone to have your kind of strength unless they’ve had to deal with something that required them to be strong. What happened to you, Y/N?”

 You avoid his soft gaze, crossing your arms. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re not the only one with a past.”

At that, you look up.

Jay’s lips curl up slightly. “What, you thought we just spawned out of nowhere?”

“I… I guess I never thought about it,” you admit.

“Most people don’t. But everyone here had a life before this.” He looks out the window. “I was a guitar teacher. I used to teach elementary school kids.” A reminiscent smile spreads across his face. “They loved it. I always felt like a proud big brother whenever they finally got a part in a song right, or when they played really well.” He pauses. “One morning, I woke up feeling really unwell. My head was killing me, I could barely get out of bed. I probably should’ve gone to the doctor or something. But I figured it was just the flu, so I just stayed home. And then, just as I was feeling better, it got worse. Everything around me started feeling… weird. Like I was dreaming. But it was all the time. I was confused, I didn’t know what was going on with me. And I didn’t want to leave the house feeling like that, even if it was to get help. It passed eventually, but…”

 He sighs, taking a moment before continuing. “When I went back to work, I got the news that one of my students had passed away. She’d gotten sick a couple of days before me, and her parents said she went downhill from there. They took her to the hospital, and the doctors said she had something called HVD. I didn’t know what it was, I’d never heard of it. But when I saw Heeseung’s ad on the internet, and I found myself here, he said it stood for Human Vampire Disease. Most people who caught it didn’t make it. But the survivors ended up like us. ‘Vampires’.”

You sit in the quiet, trying to digest it all. You try to feel indifferent, but you can’t. You don’t know what to say, but there’s a lot going through your mind.

Jay watches your reaction and you see him frowning. “I’m sorry to dump all of this on you–”

You shake your head. “No, don’t be sorry.” You look down at your lap, taking a deep breath. “I lost my sister. Emily. She was nineteen. It was my thirteenth birthday, and she went into woods to get some things to make me a gift. Leaves, twigs, stuff like that. We told her not to go in too far–” Your voice breaks and you sniffle, taking a second to compose yourself. “She disappeared. They looked for her for over a week straight. They told us she’d probably gotten lost, or fallen in the river. The worst part wasn’t that she was gone. It was not knowing whether she was dead, or wandering the woods cold and scared. I dreamt about it every night that week. And I still dream about it sometimes.”

 Your fingers play with the hem of your shirt and you stare at them, not wanting to look up and see the pity in Jay’s expression. You’ve seen it enough from everyone else back in the village. “It hit my parents pretty hard. They didn’t know what to do, how to cope. So they decided to blame me. They couldn’t blame the woods, they couldn’t blame anyone else, so they blamed it on me. Because it was my birthday, and she was out there to make my present.”

 The tears start to build, spilling over your waterline and creating wet paths down your cheeks. Your voice is strained as you try to speak through the lump in your throat. Your tone is tainted bitter and the hurt you felt back then bubbles under the surface. “I was their daughter too. We should have made it through together. But then they left. They said they couldn’t take it anymore, and they moved away. I don’t even know where they went. That’s when I went to live with my Nanna. I was happy there. We were always close. She helped me a lot. And then on the night of the Offering, two of the villagers broke in and the last time I saw her she was unconscious on the floor.”

You choke out the last sentence, eyes blurring with tears and body shaking with restrained sobs. “And I just want to get back home and see her and make sure she’s okay.” Your nails dig into your thighs as you try to keep it together.

You hear Jay moving off the bed and over to you. He kneels in front of you, one hand on your arm and the other brushing back your hair, wiping tears away. “Hey. Hey, it’s alright,” he whispers. “Just take a breath for me, gorgeous.” He hands you a tissue and you wipe your nose while he dabs up your tears. “There we go. It’s okay.”

You take a shuddery breath and look into his eyes, nothing but care and warmth in his gaze. His touch is gentle as he rubs comforting circles on your arm with his thumb.

“Sorry,” you whisper, embarrassed.

Jay smiles at you and that slight dimple appears again. “Don’t be ashamed. It’s good to cry sometimes, it helps us feel better.”

You sigh, feeling the sadness melt away and leave your body. “You’re being so kind to me.”

“Of course. How many times do we have to tell you that, contrary to popular belief, we’re not all monsters?” He grins playfully.

You chuckle.

He chucks the tissues in the bin next to the desk, then looks back at you. “Thank you for telling me. I know it’s hard opening up to strangers. But your story’s safe with me. I won’t tell the others.”

“Thank you.”

You still can’t get used to how considerate Jay is. From Riki’s bluntness to Sunghoon’s intensity, you weren’t expecting to come across someone like him in this house. But you’re glad you did.

Jay takes your hand and helps you stand up. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, clear your mind, yeah?”

You nod absent-mindedly.

“The bathroom is the first door on the right. There are clean clothes in the dresser and closet in your room.”

You look at him cautiously. “Where did you get the clothes from?”

“They haven’t come from anyone else, if that’s what you’re thinking. They were bought from a store.”

It sounds almost weird to you. You never really thought about the entire world outside of Riverfield and these woods. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. It makes you wonder if you’ll ever get the chance to see it.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks again.”

He lets go of your hand with a small smile. “See you later, beautiful.”

You leave, heading back upstairs. You notice on your way that everyone has disappeared again. It’s almost like they’re ghosts, or figments of your imagination. There one moment, gone the next. You still don’t know whether you like it that way or not.

***

You hadn’t realised how much of a mess you were until you went to shower.

You stared into the mirror– at the knots in your hair, the dirt on your clothes and body. You examined the splinters still wedged underneath the skin of your wrists, the cut on your foot, and wondered how the hell you hadn’t noticed all of it before. You guessed you had been preoccupied rebelling and zoning out and all. How the boys could find you remotely attractive in this state also went over your head, but it didn’t matter.

You were surprised to see the bathroom had been renovated, and was actually quite nice. It was also stocked with all the essentials, from painkillers to toothbrushes.

It was finally sinking in just how human the vampires were. And that just raised more questions for you. But you figured you had plenty of time to ask them, seeing as you weren’t planning on another escape attempt any time soon.

Once you finish cleaning up (which takes a while), you decide to head for the kitchen. You’re starving.

You jog down the stairs, stroll through the living room– it’s a familiar route by now. You hear voices and you slow a little, your steps a bit more measured.

You round the corner to see the serving window is open and so is the kitchen door. One of the men sits at the breakfast bar under the window, and you recognise him as the blond who stopped you from escaping the second time around. He looks a lot less intimidating now, with a smile lighting up his face and crinkling the corners of his fox-like eyes. Another man stands in the kitchen, leaning on the counter to talk to him. He has longish black hair. Apart from that, you can’t tell much about him from here.

They see you approaching and look over. The dark-haired one grins.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you brightly and you pick up on an accent. “You’re looking a lot better.”

You smirk. “I would hope so.”

You make your way into the kitchen and open the fridge, assessing the contents inside. Your eyes land on some leftover fried chicken and you grab it, taking off the cling wrap and digging in. Your eyes almost roll at the crunchy batter and tender meat. “Mm,” you hum with satisfaction.

You stand at the counter beside the man and he turns to face you.

“I’m Jake. Nice to finally meet you, sweetheart.” He holds out a hand.

You dutifully ignore the veins running up his hand and forearm, and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

Jake studies you. “You seem different. What did Jay say to you?”

“Does it matter?”

You realise he’s right, though. You feel like you’re finally able to relax a little. It’s… really good actually. It’s a relief, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You don’t know exactly what’s changed, but… maybe it’s for the better. 

The blond looks at you, tilting his head and resting his chin in his hand. “Well, it’s good to see you, princess.” You look at him and he smiles. “I’m Sunoo.”

You give him a small smile in return. “Hi.”

You take another bite of chicken, chewing contently.

Once you finish your food, you put the plate in the sink and then jump up, sitting on the counter. “So what do you guys do for fun around here? I’ve been holed up in my room for a week, I could use something to keep me distracted.”

“Normally we each do our own thing– watching movies, gaming, etcetera,” Sunoo says. “It can get a little repetitive to be honest.” He gives you a sly smile. “But at least now we have you to play with.”

“Cut it out, Sunoo,” Jake scolds him. He looks at you curiously. “Do you have any hobbies, sweetheart?”

“I love painting, and reading. I used to like cooking with my Nanna, too. Other than that, I liked listening to music on the radio… Taking a walk, especially on warmer days… I like watching movies, but we didn’t watch them that often because Nanna had this old analogue television that barely worked.” You smile at the memory.

Jake grins. “We can work with that. You know, I think there might be some old paint supplies in one of the spare rooms. I don’t know if you’d be able to use it, it was here when Heeseung bought the house. But I can try find it for you, if you want.”

Your heart warms a little at his thoughtfulness. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“No worries. If you want something to do while you wait, there’s tons of books out in the lounge. Or you can watch a movie, there’s plenty to choose from.”

“Alright.” You hop down from the counter and walk out into the living room. Jake follows you out.

“I’ll be back,” he tells you. Then he heads down the hallway and into one of the rooms.

You stand in the middle of the living room, looking around and trying to decide what to do. You see one of the few modern things in the room– the large flat-screen tv mounted on the wall. It’s foreign to you. Back in Riverfield, there wasn’t anything fancy. It was fairly old-fashioned. A result of being small and isolated, you guess. You want to watch a movie, but you don’t even know how to turn this thing on, which is kind of embarrassing.

Sunoo sees your confused expression and chuckles, making his way over. “Need some help, princess?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He strolls over to the coffee table and picks up a remote. He stands beside you so you can see the buttons. “Okay, to turn it on, you press this red button here. This little plus sign turns the volume up, the minus turns it down. This one shows you all the channels. These are the different streaming services, where you can watch movies and tv shows. Use these buttons to scroll. Got it?”

Your eyes narrow as you try to remember everything. You nod. “I think so.”

“I’ll be working out here anyway if you need help.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He disappears down the hall.

You sit down on one of the sofas and turn the tv on.

Two people appear on screen, a man and woman, holding hands as they walk into a house. A couple, you’re guessing. The romance genre was never really your thing, but you can give this one a try.

You settle back into the cushions, getting comfortable. The actors are standing in the kitchen now, talking about some guy who had been bothering the female lead.

“You think I’d just let him harass you?” The man moves closer, trapping the woman against the counter.

“I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armour.” The woman tries to sound defiant, but her body language says otherwise.

“Knight in shining armour? I never claimed to be that heroic.” He leans down, his lips ghosting over hers. “I’m just keeping my girl safe. Screw everyone else.” He kisses her and though she tries to pull away at first, she eventually gives in.

You sigh under your breath. You wait for them to pull apart, but they don’t. You shift when the man lays the woman on the countertop, his tongue still somewhere in her mouth. You look out the window, ignoring the film until this part is over.

But then a cry comes through the speakers and you look at the screen to see the woman half-naked, the man between her legs with his hips moving at a rough pace. Your mouth falls open as you realise what’s happening. Moans and sounds of skin on skin play mortifyingly loud through the speakers as you dive for the remote.

“Shit. Where is it? Oh my god.” You cringe as you hear a whiny, “Harder.”

You finally find the remote and hurriedly turn the tv off. You release a breath, slumping back against the sofa.

“Interesting movie choice, princess. I never would have thought you were into porn.”

You flinch, turning around to see Sunoo standing behind you, a laptop under his arm and an amused grin on his face.

“It wasn’t porn!” you exclaim, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “I just turned the tv on and it was normal until they started– I don’t– No!”

He sits down on the other end of the sofa. “No need to be embarrassed. It’s a normal thing to do. Just maybe not in the living room where anyone could walk in.”

“Shut up! I don’t watch porn. I’ve never watched it and I don’t want to watch it!”

“Okay, okay. I believe you, calm down.” He grabs the remote from you. “Let’s just pick something else.”

He turns the tv back on and you’re horrified to see the actors are still going at it.

“Oh,” Sunoo says as the actress kneels on the kitchen floor and licks what looks like whipped cream off the man’s penis. “You know, I never got the whole whipped cream thing. It just seems so messy and sticky. Like sex doesn’t have enough of that already,” he comments casually.

“Turn it off!” you shout, covering your face and wanting to curl into a ball.

“Alright, alright.” The living room goes quiet and you look at the screen. He’s changed it over to Netflix. He hands the remote back. “Here.”

You mumble a thank you and start scrolling through. You put on a random movie, taking note of the rating to make sure it’s safe before putting the remote down and settling in again. Sunoo opens his laptop and starts typing away.

You look over. “You said before that you’re working? What do you do?”

“All of us work for this big entertainment company. I’m a talent scout. I keep an eye out on social media and that for potential trainees.”

You tilt your head, intrigued. “An entertainment company? That’s… unexpected.”

“It was Heeseung’s father’s company. He left it to him, so now he just oversees it from afar, with employees to attend meetings and everything for him. He saw it as the easiest way to earn money.”

“That makes sense. But why not get jobs of your own? I mean, what if you don’t want to do this kind of work?”

Sunoo looks up at you. “It’s not that simple, princess. We can go to the ‘outside world’, obviously. And we do, sometimes. But working out there and being out there all the time just wouldn’t work. It would be like putting an alcoholic in a beer, wine and spirits store. It’s easier to resist temptation when there’s just one person versus when there’s thousands.”

You nod, seeing his point.

“Y/N.”

You turn around to see Jake standing at the mouth of the hallway, a bright smile plastered on his face. “Yeah?”

“I found some of that paint supplies if you want to have a look.”

Your face lights up. “Oh, really? I’d love to.”

You hop up off the sofa and follow him down the hall to the last door on the left.

Inside, it’s feminine, with floral wallpaper and a sewing table set up in the corner. There are cabinets and shelves and tubs all filled with craft supplies. It’s dusty, and you can tell no-one’s been in here for a long time. But it’s still nice. It makes you think of a woman just enjoying her spare time from homely duties and being creative. You like it.

Jake picks up a carboard box and brings it over. “There are paints and brushes and stuff in here.” He gestures to one of the cabinets. “And canvases and easels in there. Feel free to set up wherever you want.”

You peer inside the box and smile, taking it from him. “This is great, thank you so much.”

“Any time, sweetheart. It gives you something to do. And if you enjoy doing it, then even better.”

 “I do. Is it alright if I test the paint?”

“Of course, go ahead.”

You get out a palette and squeeze some paint onto it. It’s runny with clumps in it. Your lips turn down. “It’s separated. I can’t use it.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll buy you some next time I’m out.”

You look up. “What? No, you don’t have to do that.”

He smiles. “Don’t worry about it, it’s the least I can do.” He picks the box up again. “You go and get back to your movie. I’ll take this up to your room for you.”

Your eyes soften. “Thanks again, Jake.”

He nods and walks past you, out of the room. You stand there, looking around for a minute longer before leaving too, closing the door behind you.

***

You don’t know how long it takes for you to fall asleep, just that it takes a while. There had been a lot on your mind. A lot that had happened in one day. And you hadn’t really had a chance to digest it all until you were lying in bed and staring absent-mindedly at the light fixture.

Once you finally do cross the threshold into unconsciousness, all those thoughts bleed through and plague your dreams, creating one big movie.

You’re laughing with Riki. The two of you are sitting on the balcony outside your bedroom, admiring the view. Or at least you were until he cracked a joke and now the two of you are wheezing, bent over with mirth. It’s dusk, and the moon has just appeared in the steely blue sky. There’s a nice breeze drifting through the canopy and ruffling your hair.

You catch your breath and look up, meeting Riki’s eyes. He gives you that cheeky smile.

“You look like a tomato.”

“And you look like a weed.” You smile and playfully bump his shoulder.

You guys lean on the railing, letting silence fill the space around you. You can hear crickets and cicadas, and the rustling of the leaves. You take a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. You feel light. The stress and fear is gone and you feel happy. At home even. You’re no longer wound up with anxiety and paranoia and what ifs? You’ve accepted what fate has in store for you, and you’re going along with it. And it’s so freeing.

There’s a knock on the window behind you and you see Jay standing there. You open it.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I have something I need to talk to you about,” he says.

You nod and climb back inside. “What’s up?”

He grabs your hand and leads you away from the window, voice low like he’s about to reveal a secret. “They’re looking for you.”

You frown, not liking his ominous undertone. “Who is?”

“Heeseung and Sunghoon. You need to hide.”

“What? Why? Jay what’s going–”

He guides you toward the door. “Just go!” he whispers, opening it.

You stumble through and look up and down the hallway. It’s dark and you can hardly see anything. You put one hand on the wall, using it to guide you as you jog blindly down the hall.

Suddenly, a door opens part way and soft yellow light spills out through the gaps. You head towards it.

You step inside and the door slams shut behind you. You jump, whirling around to see Heeseung standing there, one hand on the door as he looms over you.

“You’re not getting away this time, love.”

You back away from him. You hear footsteps and look over your shoulder to see Sunghoon approaching from the other side of the room.

Your heartbeat quickens and you know they have you cornered. Your back presses against the wall and the light– coming from the candles burning around the room– goes out.

An arm wraps around your waist and you’re picked up and slung over someone’s shoulder.

He drops you down on the bed and you feel his weight pin you down as he straddles your legs. You struggle, trying to wriggle out from underneath him and push him off.

“There’s no use fighting, angel,” Sunghoon’s voice says from somewhere to your left. You feel the mattress dip as he gets on the bed.

“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’re tough enough to take both of us, right?” Heeseung purrs above you.

You scream in protest as he gets off of you and you’re manoeuvred onto your stomach.

“Me first,” Sunghoon says. You feel his movements on the bed as he gets behind you. He leans down, his chest brushing against your back, and he wraps your hair around his fist, pulling your head back. You wince at the stinging in your scalp. “You should have listened, angel,” he whispers in your ear.

He buries your face in the pillow, holding your head in place, and your shouts become muffled.

Your surroundings become distant, in a way. Your senses are off. But you do register the cool air hitting your now bare core, panic rising alongside the goosebumps on your skin.

“No!” you try to scream, but you can’t hear your own voice. You feel the tears soaking your face and the pillow, though.

Something prods your entrance and you desperately try and crawl away, but you can’t move. Your voice breaks as you scream as loud as you can.

Your eyes fly open and you gasp. You scramble to sit up, your heart pounding in your chest. You look around. You’re in your own room, in your own bed. You’re alone.

“Fuck,” you whisper, running your hands over your face.

You sit there for a few minutes, but you just can’t calm down. Restless, you throw back the covers and get up. You take a few steps toward the door, but then you pause. Where are you even going? Are you really going to wander around the house this late, after that dream?

You sigh. You don’t want to stay in here. You’ll just start thinking and overthinking and it will drive you crazy. You need a distraction.

You open the door and stop in your tracks when you see the door across from yours open too.

Jake appears, wearing a t-shirt and boxers, his hair messy. He looks up and freezes. “Y/N? What are you doing up?” he asks quietly, his voice rough.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was going to get a glass of water. Is everything okay?”

You chew your lip. “Actually… um, do you think I could… come in? I could kind of use someone to talk to.”

He blinks. “Oh. Of course, come on in.” He steps aside and you cross the hallway into his room.

The lamp on the bedside table casts a warm light over the space, making it feel cosy.

You sit on the bed and look at a framed picture on the dresser that catches your eye. Jake is crouching down, his arms around a beautiful border collie. An older woman and a guy around his age are on either side of him.

Jake shuts the door and sits on the bed beside you. You notice as he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it down. “What did you want to talk about?”

You glance at him. “I’m not sure. But I thought talking to you might help distract me from the nightmare I had.”

“Oh, a nightmare, huh?”

You nod. “Yep.”

“Well I’d be more than happy to distract you.” He falls backwards, lying down. “May as well get comfortable, sweetheart.” He grins.

You chuckle. You look at him, and after a moment you lie down next to him, leaving a few inches between you. You sigh softly, looking up at the ceiling. “So where are you from originally? I picked up on your accent earlier.”

“Well I was born in Korea. But I moved to Australia with my mum and brother when I was nine.”

“Is that them?” You point to the photo frame.

He follows your gaze. “Yeah.”

“You guys make a beautiful family.”

He smiles. “Thank you.”

“What’s your dog’s name?”

 “Layla.” He looks at the photo, smiling fondly.

“She’s adorable.”

“She is... I miss her.” He turns his head to look at you. “Have you got any pets?”

You shake your head. “No. I never have.”

Jake’s eyebrows rise. “Seriously?”

“Mhm. I always wanted a cat or a dog, but…” You shrug. “We never got one.”

“Maybe we should get a pet. It would liven the house up a bit.”

“I think I’ve been doing enough of that lately.”

He laughs. “Yeah, you certainly have.” He yawns and stretches, then flips onto his side, facing you.

You smirk, turning your head to look at him. “Am I keeping you up?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m wide awake.”

You sigh. “So am I, after that dream.”

“It shook you up that bad?”

“Well, yeah. It was fine at the beginning, but then something… I don’t know– bad? traumatising? happened. Something that could– and I’m scared will– happen in real life.”

Jake frowns, concern in his eyes. “What was it?”

You chew your lip, teeth tugging at it until a small flake of skin comes off and the vague taste of blood hits your tongue. You twist the ring on your right hand– take it most of the way off, then put it back on before repeating the movement. You don’t meet Jake’s gaze, opting to stare at the ceiling instead. “Heeseung and Sunghoon. They lured me into that room, the one with all the dark furniture and candles, and they pinned me down and I couldn’t get away and Sunghoon…” You trail off, not sure how to say it or particularly wanting to say it at all.

“Wait. Someone showed you the cell?”

You frown, looking over. “Yes…? Sunghoon showed me right after he caught me trying to get away for the third time. Hold on, you call it the cell?”

“A few of the guys started it. It’s a scare tactic for when the girls act up. We’ve never actually taken anyone in there, let alone used it.”

“Oh.”

He hesitates. “But, if I’m being honest, if any girl was going to end up in that room, it would be you.”

An ounce of the resurfaced nerves and fear shows in your eyes as you meet his gaze. “Why?”

He bites his lip. “I don’t know. There’s just… something about you, I guess. As cliché as that sounds.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to go in there again.”

“You might not. But even if you did, I’m sure they wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I don’t want it to happen at all. I’m not going to have my fir-” You stop yourself, realising your slip up. You look away.

“Wait. Your first time?”

You clench your jaw, which is all the answer he needs.

“Is that one of the reasons you’re so scared?”

“I don’t want to have sex with any of you anyway,” you say and it comes out colder than you mean it to.

There’s a beat of silence.

Jake shifts, inching closer. “Are you sure?” he asks in a low voice.

You turn your head to look at him. “What the fuck do you mean, am I sure? Yes. I am.”

“How could you know without giving it a try?”

Your heart beats a little bit faster as he gets close, his body brushing against yours as he looks into your eyes. You want to retort, but you don’t know what to say. You feel this slight buzz of anticipation.

“Maybe you’re lying to yourself, sweetheart. Or maybe you’re in denial.” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Should we test it out?”

You could push him away. Just say no. But there’s a part of you that’s curious what it would be like. And that part takes over as you nod timidly.

Jake smiles. His hand comes up to cup your face gently as he leans in. His lips press against yours and you feel a warmth spread throughout your body. It’s like a switch flips in your brain and you don’t register anything except him. His lips, his warmth, the lingering smell of his cologne. Without thinking, you tentatively kiss him back. One hand slides up his chest and the other goes to his hair, your fingers threading through the soft strands.

His free hand moves under your shirt and rests on your bare hip. It sends a small shiver up your spine.

The kiss grows more heated, Jake dragging your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You part your lips and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Eventually, you pull away for air. Your chest rises and falls, and your heart pounds. Your cheeks feel warm.

Jake’s thumb swipes under your lip, tugging it gently. “You know, if you’re scared, I can help. I’ll be your first time.”

You look up at him, eyes tinted with lust. “How would that help me?”

“I’ll show you what it’s like, help prepare you. There’s nothing to be scared of, sweetheart.” His voice drops to a more seductive tone. “I can make you feel so good, if you let me.”

Heat starts to pool between your legs at the thought of it. On the few occasions you’ve found yourself with your fingers tracing your clit and dipping into your clenching core, you’ve wondered what it would feel like to have someone else touch you. To have someone inside you. The older you got, the more you wanted it. And now it’s being offered to you on a silver platter. You just have to say yes.

But he’s one of your captors. He’s a vampire. You can’t let–

You don’t care. You want him.

“Do it,” you say quietly, but surely.

Jake leans in and kisses you again. He grabs your hips and manoeuvres you so you’re straddling him. His fingers grasp the hem of your shirt and slowly lift it up, brushing against your skin. You pull away long enough for him to lift it over your head and drop it on the floor.

You feel a little self-conscious as he admires your breasts, but then he places a kiss to your neck and the thought escapes your mind. He peppers kisses from your jaw, down your neck, across your chest. His hand trails up your stomach and his finger hooks the cup of your bra, pulling it down. Your breast spills out and he kisses just above your nipple before taking it into his mouth. You moan softly and your head tilts back. He does the same to the other before sliding your bra straps down your shoulders, one hand then moving up your back and undoing the clasp. Your bra falls between your bodies and he chucks it aside. His lips return to yours and you gladly kiss him back once more.

You pull away, tugging on his t-shirt. “I think this can come off, don’t you?”

Jake smiles and obeys, pulling the shirt over his head and discarding it. Your eyes are drawn to his abs and your fingers reach out to touch them, ghosting over the lines.

“So pretty,” you murmur.

His fingers wrap around yours and bring your hand up to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “You’re prettier, baby.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach at the name.

You can feel your slick steadily dripping into your panties and you start getting impatient. You shift forward on Jake’s lap and you feel how hard he is beneath the thin material of his boxers. A quiet whine escapes your lips as you grind on his bulge. He inhales sharply, grabbing onto your hips. He looks at you and you meet his gaze. His eyes are darkened with desire, and you’re sure yours are too.

“You want to take it further?” he asks.

You nod, and he guides you off his lap. He grabs the waistband of his boxers and slides them off, letting his cock spring free. You almost moan at the sight of it, squeezing your thighs together. You have nothing to compare it to, but it looks long and thick enough to hit all the spots your fingers never reached. So pretty, too, just like the rest of him.

He doesn’t even have to ask before you shimmy out of your shorts and panties, casting them aside.

Jake looks up at you and bites down on his lip. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says under his breath.

You smile shyly, crawling over and straddling him again. Your pussy clenches around nothing, knowing his cock is so close yet so far.

Jake takes your hands and places them on his shoulders before resting his hands on your waist. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“I’ll help you through it, don’t worry.”

You nod. You lift yourself up a little more and move forward, so your pussy is hovering over his cock.

“That’s it.” He wraps his hand around the base, holding it steady for you. “Now lower yourself down. Take your time.”

You do as he says. You feel his tip pressing at your entrance and you take a second. This is it. You take a breath and sink down further, whimpering at the stretch that brings a bit of pain and a bit of pleasure. You close your eyes, trying to relax your body as you attempt to take him. He bottoms out and you exhale softly.

Jake massages the skin of your hips, giving you a small smile. “Good girl. You’re doing well, baby.” He places a short kiss on your lips. “Move when you’re ready, you’re in control here.”

You slowly lift yourself back up, moaning as his cock drags against your walls. Then you sink back down. It takes you a couple of tries before you find the perfect angle, the head of his cock brushing that spot inside of you that has you craving more. The sounds filling the room are downright dirty, but neither of you care. Jake’s head is tilted back, eyes closed and lips parted as he holds on to your hips. His moans sound so sweet, making you want to draw more out of him.

Your thighs start to burn, but you keep going, too lost in the pleasure to stop. The band in your stomach is tightening, getting closer to snapping.

Jake sees you starting to struggle and grips your hips tighter, helping lift you up and down, thrusting up into you each time. You cry out, grabbing onto his shoulders so you don’t fall.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down on his lip. The sound of his voice has you clenching around him.

He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss. He flips you onto your back, barely giving you a second to catch your breath before swiftly entering you again. He leans down and captures your lips in a hungry kiss, his thrusts beginning to speed up. He’s growing more desperate, and honestly, so are you.

You wrap your legs around his waist and the new angle allows him to go deeper. It quickly brings you to the edge, only needing a small push to send you over. “I’m close,” you say in a small voice.

“I got you, sweetheart.” He places a gentle kiss to your neck, his hand reaching between the two of you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles.

You start to squirm, grinding your hips into his touch. The pleasure builds until it’s nearly unbearable, and then it releases, hitting you like a tidal wave. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching. You feel like your nerves are alight, your senses being consumed.

Your orgasm triggers Jake’s own, his hips stilling before he empties himself inside of you. You whimper slightly at the feeling, still recovering from your high.

Jake pulls out and lies down beside you. He turns his head to look at you. “You feeling okay?”

You nod, turning onto your side. “I’m good,” you say with a smile.

He raises a brow, clearly a little surprised. “Really?”

“Really.” You’re telling the truth. You don’t feel bad at all. If anything, you feel better now.

He must see in your face that you’re being honest. He grins. “That’s good, sweetheart. I’m glad.” He kisses you, softly this time. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jake goes and gets a wet towel, then comes back and gently wipes away the mess between your thighs. He picks up your clothes from the floor and helps you put them back on, getting dressed himself before climbing back into bed.

“You can stay here if you want,” he offers.

You settle under the covers, getting comfortable. “I think I will.”

He chuckles to himself, getting comfortable as well. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams to you too.” You close your eyes.

Jake turns out the light and the room goes dark.

As you lay there, waiting for sleep to take over, you can’t help but think how right this feels. It makes you happy, having someone lie beside you. You can’t help but feel like this is a turning point. Not just because you lost your virginity. But like maybe you can finally start putting a bit of trust in the men you’ve found yourself stuck with.

To be continued...

Taglist: @un06 @naviiy @lilyuwon @kangseulgithegreat @seungielvr @saturdayssvillain @wonenonly @msauthor @nshmrarki @sakanelli-afc @b3tt7boop @yunjinswifee @lucycarlisleswife @lol6sposts @fandommaniac07 @strxwbloody @iritas @toodeloosoo @jungwonmeover @sol3chu @skzenhalove @chaoticotaku @moonpri @donttaketome @slvtella @d-dilemma @heeshlove @qrazyquokka @yangjungwonnie @ro-diaries

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Dividers by @dollywons

This is so cute 😭😭

⌇ENHA WHEN MEETING YOUR PARENTS FOR THE FIRST TIME

꒰ ♡ ꒱ enha x fem!reader && 738wc. fluff ; small kisses, petnames, being nervous

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 heeseung stands at your doorstep, hands slightly trembling as he holds a bouquet of flowers. "baby, what if they don't like me?" he whispers, eyes wide with worry. you smile reassuringly, squeezing his hand. "they'll love you," you murmur, leading him inside. your parents greet him warmly, but he can't shake his nerves. during dinner, he fidgets, trying his best to make a good impression. afterward, you pull him aside, cupping his face gently. "you did great, hee," you say softly before leaning in to kiss him. he relaxes instantly, his arms wrapping around you. "thanks, angel," he whispers against your lips, a shy smile forming. "i needed that."

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 jay stands at your doorstep, hands a bit sweaty as he adjusts his collar. "what's the worse that can happen?" he whispers, his voice shaky. you smile, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "nothing, so it'll be fine," you murmur, leading him inside. during dinner, jay sits beside you, his hand finding yours under the table, fingers entwining tightly. he engages in polite conversation, answering your parents' questions with a mix of charm and nerves. you can feel the tension in his grip. afterward, as you walk him to the door, you turn to face him, cupping his cheek. "you were perfect, jay," you whisper, leaning in to kiss him softly. he sighs in relief, resting his forehead against yours. "thanks, love," he whispers, a small smile appearing. 

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 jake stands at your doorstep, his usual bright smile in place even though you know he's nervous. "ready?" you ask, and he nods confidently. as you introduce him to your parents, his charm instantly wins them over. he answers their questions with ease, laughing at their jokes and sharing stories. by the end of dinner, it feels like your parents have adopted him; they're already planning family outings with him included. later, as you both step outside, you turn to him with a grin. "they love you," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. jake leans in, kissing you softly, "thanks, sweetheart,"

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 sunghoon stands confidently beside you, charming your parents effortlessly with his polite manners and genuine smiles. after a few minutes of conversation, he leans in and whispers in your ear, "great, now your parents like me." you feel his lips brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "time for you to get my last name, mrs. park," he teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes. you blush furiously, but before you can respond, he kisses you softly on the cheek, his hand gently cupping your face. "i'm serious, baby," he adds, his voice low and filled with affection.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 sunoo holds your hand tightly as you both walk up to your parents' house, his usual bright smile a bit nervous. "it's gonna be fine," he whispers, leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. as the door opens, he beams, his charm instantly winning them over. during dinner, he keeps sneaking glances at you, squeezing your hand under the table. when your parents leave the room, he pulls you close, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "i told you it would be fine, my love," he murmurs, his eyes sparkling. later, as he helps clear the table, your mom pulls you aside and whispers, "he's a keeper." you can't help but smile, knowing she's right.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 jungwon squeezes your hand as you approach your parents' house, a confident smile on his face. "don't worry, i basically make every parent be in love with me," he whispers, making you giggle. the evening goes smoothly, jungwon charming your parents effortlessly with his respectful manners. as the night ends and you both step outside, he pulls you close, his eyes sparkling under the porch light. "see? told you, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you laugh softly, feeling warmth spread through you, and whisper back, "yeah, you're pretty amazing, my love." he grins, kissing you again.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 you were so nervous for the day, hoping that riki wouldn't mess up. surprisingly, riki seemed nervous for the first time, holding up two ties and asking, "this tie or this one?" finally deciding, he transformed during dinner, completely cool and charming, showing a side of him you never saw. your parents were impressed, laughing at his jokes and enjoying his company. as you got into the car afterward, he leaned over and kissed your cheek, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "piece of cake, babe. now you owe me that $50 you bet," he teased, making you roll your eyes and laugh, feeling relieved and proud of him.

This honestly made me tear up, a 17 year old engene named zika has passed away in gaza. this breaks my heart deeply. she was a fan just like us with dreams to one day see the boys. please try your best to spread her letter so it can possibly reach the boys!

@021894s @dr0wnme0ut @yvnempire @un06 @hee-dazed @heejake-hoon @karinasbaby @en-geneisaxx @enh4s @dollyyun @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @slickchickchocolatier @yeonzzzn @urfavouriteanon @stickypiratepeach @j3nnypng @hoondrop @hoonharem @simpjaes @heeverseblog @heeslomll @jakesangel @acestuffs @dazed-enha @ikeuluvr @ikeuhoonverse

I cannot wait 😃😃😃

Especially for the Jake one 😭😭😭

───── ⋆⋅☆ 1st batch of upcoming wips (oct-nov)

SYNOPSIS ✧ getting blackmailed by an anonymous caller who clearly has the upper hand in destroying what you have worked for in keeping your identity as the renowned faceless camgirl as a secret is definitely not in your bingo card. but you cannot risk of having your side hustle as a camgirl to be exposed to the world, and so you find yourself entering the all-exclusive club upon invitation with the intention to complete your mission in seducing the four notorious figures on campus for some reason. unknowingly, as your irresistible allure serenades them like a siren to the sailors, you soon find yourself in a heady mix of lust and danger orchestrated by them, intoxicating you with their devilry charms and corruptions. PAIRINGS ✧ hyung line x camgirl!reader GENRE ✧ reverse harem, eventual poly, college au WARNING(S) ✧ 18+ (mdni), mean!hyung line, explicit themes, profanities, alcohol consumption, substance use, smoking, corruption, manipulation, coercion, perversion, toxicity, smut

SYNOPSIS ✧ living under one roof with an omega whose pheromone smells progressively irresistible is getting impossible to ignore as they struggle to master self-control. they should not be desiring you, especially not when you're a haughty, spoilt brat who constantly never fails to get on their nerves, but they can't deny their primal instinct to claim you as their mate despite their possessive nature refusing to share you, even if they are best friends. all inhibitions are lost as soon as you plead with them to help you ease your pain in your most vulnerable state yet desirable in their ravenous eyes. just like that, they lose themselves in the heat, showing you how much you will always need them and claiming you as their omega for good. PAIRINGS ✧ alpha!hyung line x omega!reader GENRE ✧ reverse harem, eventual poly, alpha-omegaverse, enemies to lovers, slow-burn kinda, hyung line older than reader by few years WARNING(S) ✧ 18+ (mdni), pissed-off alphas, bratty omega, explicit themes, profanities, alcohol consumption, manipulation, coercion, perversion, angst, toxicity, smuts

SYNOPSIS ✧ marriage is not something heeseung wants to be fully committed to, especially when he values his singularity the most and wants no strings attached, but he also desires the position for the next-in-line succession and refuses to lose against his great nemesis, who turns out to be his own blood. so when the requirement for him entails marriage in order to secure his spot, dread hits him, but the solution comes to mind instantly at the thought of you. you are in the same friend group as him, which began in university, and despite not being as close as he is with the others in your friend group, he knows that you are a perfect candidate. so when he has made an enticing offer that is beneficial to you, you know you can't refuse him. hence, you agreed to be his wife until he attained his goal, but little did you know that your feelings eventually develop into something beyond platonic. PAIRING ✧ fake husband!heeseung x fem reader GENRE ✧ adulthood, fake marriage, friends to lovers, he fell first but she fell harder WARNING(S) ✧ 18+ (mdni), explicit themes, profanities, alcohol consumption, possible violence, light angst, smut

SYNOPSIS ✧ jay is your husband on paper just as you are his wife on paper, so you have long since acknowledged that he would never love you as a husband should. after all, your marriage is purely a convenience — one that jay got blackmailed by your father. jay despises your father with burning passion, so naturally, you assume that his cold detachment towards you is his hatred for you as well since you are your father's daughter, but that does not hinder you from developing feelings towards your feared husband, who is widely known as a heartless beast in the mob world. it is abundantly clear that he wants nothing to do with you, and so you attempt to diminish those feelings, only to be taken aback when he finally shows you how much he values you as his wife more than you would have thought. PAIRING ✧ mafia husband!jay x fem reader GENRE ✧ mob world/mafia, marriage of convenience, morally grey character, grumpy x sunshine dynamic, jay is lowkey a softie towards reader WARNING(S) ✧ 18+ (mdni), explicit themes, profanities, alcohol consumption, smoking, corruption, manipulation, coercion, angst, violence, blood, toxicity, smut

SYNOPSIS ✧ for as long as you remember, jake proposed to you as he had fallen deeply in love with you, yearning for you to spend forever with him, even after there was a long period where he mysteriously disappeared from your life. the two years of your marriage had been nothing but pure bliss, especially when he was madly in love with you just as you are with him. so when jake finally revealed his true colours to you right after succeeding his revenge against your father and annihilating the entirety of your bloodline as well as your father's clan, you were left with nothing, not even jake's love, which you thought was real. filled with despair, resentment, betrayal, and heartbreak, you can't go on any longer and plead jake to divorce you, but he refuses and continues to show you cruelty by keeping you by his side if it means that you will remain unhappy forever, as the thought of you finding happiness elsewhere angers him because you don't deserve happiness. he vows to make your life miserable and diminish your self-worth, not realising that tragedy will soon dawn in his life just as it did to his beloved parents. PAIRING ✧ mafia husband!jake x fem reader GENRE ✧ mob world/mafia, marriage, lovers to enemies to strangers WARNING(S) ✧ 18+ (mdni), explicit themes, profanities, alcohol consumption, smoking, violence, blood, corruption, manipulation, coercion, toxicity, heavy angst, smut

SYNOPSIS ✧ jungwon firmly believes that he is not destined to have a soulmate, and he prefers to stay that way as he cannot risk endangering his other half with his own presence. out of the seven princes, jungwon is cursed to be a bloodthirsty beast, even worse than any other ripper, and almost every supernatural fears him at the power and savagery he revels in. so when destiny leads him to you, he refuses you as his soulmate, especially when you're a human. he fights valiantly against his primal desire to claim you, fearing that he would hurt you, but with the enticing smell of your blood and your undeniable beauty, he knows that he is bound to have you in his eternal embrace. PAIRING ✧ vampire prince!jungwon x human!fem reader GENRE ✧ modern fantasy, supernatural, romance, soulmates WARNING(S) ✧ 18+ (mdni), explicit themes, profanities, alcohol consumption, violence, blood, manipulation, coercion, toxicity, violence, blood, angst, smut

★ comment 💌 if you want to be added to any! (blank, ageless, minor blogs will be denied)

PERM TAGLIST:

@aishigrey @kgneptun @smg-valeria @lhspeachie @enhaverse713586

@strxwbloody @firstclassjaylee @jwnghyuns @deobitifull @loumin908

@sousydive @pinkkami @skzenhalove @darkjongsung @caravm

@slut4hee @immelissaaa @onlyhyunjin @lunavidere01 @heelariously

@fleurixzs @pinkielina @snowesaa @xxbluestrifexx @riribelle

@sunpov @punchbug9-blog @ja3yun @yunhoswrldddd @woniefull

@melonvrs @lovekyr @lovzwoni @loljaeyunz @jaehoonii

@nshmrarki @emberuby @ivesti @cyjhhyj @yzzyhee

@nyxtwixx @criminaluvr @surrik-i @heeshlove @jungwonmeover

@roslayy @jiryunie @wonnienyang

STOP I’M LITERALLY SOBBING

I’VE NEVER CRIED THIS HARD BECAUSE OF A FIC BEFORE 😭😭😭

Our Life | P.JS

jay x reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cum plugging, oral (f.rec), major theme of death and grievance, character death, mentions of alcoholism (very slight, not for mcs), descriptions of pregnancy and birth, strangers to married couple trope, insane amount of fluff, verging on soulmate au, hopeful ending even though it's sorrowful, some parts not proof read, anything else lmk! wc: 34.8k synopsis: one year after his wife passed away, jongseong reflects back on his life, causing him to miss you more than ever a/n: hi! writing this jay fic has come at a really funny time in my life. it's just a fic, i know, but for some reason i'm writing it so personally - a lot of this has to do with me or how i view things, the relationships i have had with my loved ones etc. this fic is the manifestation of the love i want and love i hope everyone experiences. i know we all deserve to have someone care about us so much that we feel safe and cherished. you deserve to be happy, i hope we all find that person. as always, reblogs, comments and feedback is all welcome! i also cried like 5 times writing this so...be warned.

*this fic has serious themes of death, please do not read if this upsets you or makes you uncomfortable! nothing is murder and nothing is violent, but i understand this theme can be upsetting for people!

As Jongseong hears the door of his house gently push open, he can already hear the familiar sound of tiny feet racing towards him. Moments later, the littlest one, Minji, bursts into the room, her laughter bubbling over as she makes a beeline for her great-grandfather.

“Poppy!” she cries, her small arms already outstretched, launching herself into his lap. Thankfully, Jongseong is seated in his favourite recliner so that helps him catch her. A warm smile plasters on his face, ready for her joyful embrace. Minji, at just five years old, is a whirlwind of energy, always eager to shower her great-grandfather with affection. She’s a bundle of life that never fails to brighten the room.

Minhee, her older brother, is a little more restrained. At nearly eleven years old, he’s beginning to see himself as too grown-up for such open displays of affection, though Jongseong catches the fond glint in his eyes. Minhee hovers near the door, perhaps torn between maintaining his cool exterior and giving in to the pull of family warmth.

The children call him “Poppy,” a sweet nickname coined by their mother, Ara, when she was a child. Grandad and Poppa had apparently been too much of a mouthful for her, and the name stuck through the generations. Jongseong smiles to himself, recalling how it all began.

As he waits for Ara to follow them in, Jongseong is pleasantly surprised when Jeyou steps through the door instead. His son, of course, a father himself, offers him a smile that’s full of love and history. Jongseong’s eyes twinkle as Jeyou enters, taking in the sight of his son with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. So many years had passed, and yet, in moments like this, they seemed to collapse in on themselves, leaving just the simple pleasure of being surrounded by family.

And this day a little more bearable.

"Got yourself a couple of shadows today, haven’t you, Dad?" Jeyou says, glancing at Minji who has made herself comfortable on her great-grandfather’s lap, her head tucked under his chin.

"Ah, wouldn’t have it any other way," Jongseong replies, his voice low but full of warmth. He places a gentle hand on Minji’s back, feeling her soft breathing as she calms down from her excited entrance. "Though, I expect you’ll be getting the same treatment soon enough with your old age."

Jeyou chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, she’s all yours for now. Ara’s just grabbing some things from the car, but she’ll be in soon. Couldn’t resist having her kids run ahead."

Jongseong nods. That sounded just like Ara. Always the one to let the children take the lead, full of the same unbridled energy she’d had as a child. Even now, as an adult, she managed to keep that spark.

"Minhee," Jeyou calls, his voice gentle but nudging. "Aren’t you going to say hello to Poppy?"

Minhee hesitates for a moment, then steps forward. His gangly limbs betray his preteen awkwardness as if he's still adjusting to his growing frame. He shuffles over, his eyes on the floor, before glancing up at Jongseong with a shy smile.

"Hey, Poppy," he mumbles, and though his words are quiet, there’s warmth in his gaze.

"Come here, son," Jongseong beckons, and Minhee approaches. He leans down for a brief hug, one that’s a bit stiff but no less genuine. Jongseong pats his great-grandson on the back, feeling the familiar ache in his chest - an ache that comes from seeing the passage of time so vividly in the people you love.

Minhee quickly retreats to the sofa, where he pulls out a book from his rucksack, burying his nose into it as if he hadn’t just shared a tender moment. Jongseong chuckles softly, knowing well that Minhee’s quiet affection is just as real as Minji’s exuberant embrace.

"Just like you at his age," Jongseong remarks to Jeyou.

Jeyou raises an eyebrow. "Was I that shy?"

"Not shy, just...reflective," Jongseong murmured, his gaze softening as memories of Jeyou’s childhood flashed before him. Even as a boy, Jeyou had always been deep in thought, though there had never been a shortage of mischief hiding behind those thoughtful eyes.

But before they could slip too far into the past, the familiar sound of the front door creaking open stirred the present moment. Ara swept in, arms full of bags, her bright smile instantly lighting up the room.

"There’s my favourite man," she called out cheerily, her voice as warm as always. She placed the bags by the door and, in her usual way, let her gaze travel from her children to her father before finally settling on her grandfather. The fondness in her smile deepened as she approached him.

"Hello, Poppy," she said softly, bending down to press a kiss to his cheek. "How are you feeling today?"

Jongseong reached for her hand, his grip gentle but steady. "Better now that you’re all here," he replied, his voice tinged with a quiet sincerity.

Today wasn’t an easy day, and everyone in the room knew it - except for Minji, who was too young to understand the weight the date carried. The family had gathered not just for the usual visit but to offer comfort, to keep his mind occupied. Jongseong had been dreading this day for over a week, the memories from years past creeping into his thoughts, but seeing his loved ones around him made it a little more bearable.

Ara steps back to look around the room, her hands resting on her hips as if surveying a scene she knew by heart. "Right, then. Who’s up for a cup of tea?" she announced, though she didn’t wait for a reply. She already knew her answer.

Disappearing into the kitchen, she busied herself with the kettle, placing three cups in front of her and tossing teabags into each. The familiar clink of porcelain and the hum of the kettle filled the air, blending with the gentle sounds of the family settling in. Jeyou, already feeling at home, sank into the couch, his gaze drifting to his father.

"So," Jeyou began, his tone casual but laced with concern, "has the doctor called you yet about your heart? Your review’s coming up in a few weeks, isn’t it?"

Jongseong let out a soft sigh, not wanting to weigh the room down with his health concerns, but knowing it was pointless to brush it off. "Not yet. They’re supposed to get back to me soon, but you know how these things go."

In his mind, his heart is as fit as a fiddle despite the pieces shattered and medical scans telling him otherwise. Being seventy-six puts him at that age where he doesn’t quite fuss over the little things anymore, knowing that when he starts to go, it’s his time. His family don’t quite see it that way, but they always had a knack for worrying.

They get that from you.

Ara returns from the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs, setting two on the coffee table and one on the side stroller Jongseong uses as a side table. It’s old and it’s definitely not supposed to be purposed for keeping his things close by, but he does it this way anyway. 

“You’re running low on milk and sugar, Poppy,” she states, smiling softly. It’s not like Jongeong to let things run to the last drop, but she supposes it’s probably the last thing on his mind these days. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jongseong returns her kind expression and sits comfortably in his chair.

Jeyou’s eyes drift from the steaming tea on the table to the two untouched cups sitting beside it, their contents long gone cold. His gaze then falls on the doset box, where yesterday's and this morning's pills sit neglected in their transparent slots. A dull ache forms in his chest, growing heavier with each passing second. It’s not like his father to forget things like this. Something in his stomach twists - an unsettling feeling that only deepens when he looks over at Jongseong.

His father, seated comfortably in the old recliner, is absentmindedly running his fingers through Minji’s hair, but his expression is distant. His eyes, usually full of life, are clouded, as though he’s drifting somewhere far away. Jeyou knows that look too well, his father isn’t here in this moment, not really. He’s somewhere in the past, locked in thoughts he won’t share with anyone.

"Kids," Jeyou says, his voice firmer than usual, "why don’t you go play outside? It’s too nice for you to stay in here."

Minji, always eager for an adventure, springs from her great-grandfather’s lap and dashes towards the garden, her giggles trailing behind her like sunshine. Minhee lingers a bit longer, his hesitation clear, but a quick glance at his grandfather’s face tells him everything he needs to know. This was one of those moments where the grown-ups needed to talk. With a quiet nod, Minhee follows his sister outside, leaving the room heavy with unspoken words.

Jeyou scoots forward on the couch, his hands clasped tightly, his heart feeling as if it’s weighed down by a stone. "Dad," he begins, his voice thick with concern, "are you sure you’re looking after yourself?"

As expected, Jongseong forces out a laugh, the sound strained and far from genuine. "Of course I am. What kind of question is that?" He waves his hand dismissively, as if brushing away his son’s worry could somehow make it disappear. But Jeyou can see the cracks in his father’s defences, no matter how hard he tries to hide them.

Ara steps in before Jeyou can push further, her eyes soft but her tone direct. "You look really tired, Poppy," she says, careful not to let too much of her worry spill into her words. She doesn’t mention the state of the kitchen, though it’s hard to ignore. The counters are cluttered with dirty dishes, empty food wrappers, and crumpled paper towels. It’s a far cry from the meticulous space Jongseong used to keep, everything in its place, nothing left unattended. His once-pristine kitchen now looks like it’s seen better days, like he’s given up on keeping it tidy.

And his appearance - Ara notices that too. His hair, usually slicked back with the neatness he always took pride in, now lies flat and lifeless, as though he hadn’t bothered with it at all. Even his clothes seem carelessly thrown on, lacking the care he once put into his daily routines.

"I’m okay, I promise," Jongseong says, offering a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

But they all know better. He’s far from okay, and they can see it in every little detail. His body may be failing, but it’s his spirit that seems most worn down. And that’s not something any doctor could fix with medication or surgery.

Jeyou sighs, the weight of his father’s stubbornness pressing down on him. He knows how difficult it is for Jongseong to open up, especially about something as delicate as his feelings. "Dad, I know it must be tough on you today, with Mum’s anniversary," Jeyou says softly, his voice cracking slightly at the mention of her, "but please, don’t neglect yourself. We need you here. We can’t lose you too."

The room falls silent, the air thick with unsaid things. Jongseong’s face twitches for just a moment at the mention of his late wife, and Ara, sitting by her father’s side, silently curses him with a sharp nudge to his ribs. Her eyes flicker with disapproval, not wanting to mention you so blatantly.

With his smile faltering, Jongseong’s eyes begin glazing over once more as he looks away, as though staring too long into his children’s worried faces might break him. "I’m alright," he murmurs again, softer this time, but no one in the room believes him.

It has been a year since you passed, and while it was easy to put on a brave face for months, something about knowing he has been without you for one entire year puts him in misery, the same misery he felt the day he found you laying on your shared bed, last gasps of breath already evacuated from your body.

jongseong’s heart, once full of love and purpose, now feels unbearably heavy without you. It’s not just the grief that weighs him down - it’s the love. A love that has nowhere to go, nothing to cling to. For over fifty years, his heart beat with the rhythm of your shared life, the quiet moments and laughter you wove into the years together. 

Now, without you, all that love is left to pool within him, filling the empty spaces with a bittersweet ache. He still wakes up wanting to tell you things, still reaches out for you in the night, only to be met with silence. That love, the part of him that was always meant for you, has no place to rest, and he feels its weight with every breath he takes.

He escapes to the past these days, just for the opportunity to see you again.

_____

The party is loud, an overwhelming hum of voices, music, and laughter blending together in a way that makes it impossible to think. The flat is small, much too small to hold the crowd that’s somehow crammed into every corner. 

People from all different majors are squeezed into the living room, the hallway, and even the tiny kitchen, balancing Tesco plastic cups on the edge of counters and bookshelves. It feels like the walls are closing in, the air thick with the smell of cheap alcohol and the heat of too many bodies in one space. Jongseong shifts uncomfortably, standing near the wall with his back pressed to it, hoping to stay out of the chaotic flow of people moving past him.

His friend, Sunghoon, is in his element, leaning over to chat with two girls from the science department. Jongseong can hear snippets of Sunghoon’s conversation - something about biology and "how easy it must be to share a dorm with a future doctor." Jongseong knows what his friend’s after. It’s the same for every party. Sunghoon is smooth-talking his way through the night, hoping to fuck one - or both - of the girls before the party winds down. Jongseong can't help but feel a sense of detachment from it all, wishing he were anywhere but here.

He glances down at his drink, swirling the last bit of beer in his cup, realising he hasn’t even taken a sip in the last half-hour. The music pounds in his ears and the conversations around him blur into a noise that grates against his thoughts. Everyone seems so eager to lose themselves in the moment, but all Jongseong can think about is how out of place he feels, like he’s in someone else’s world.

And then his eyes land on you.

Seated on the worn couch at the far end of the room, you look just as lost as he feels. Your shoulders are hunched slightly, arms folded across your chest, eyes scanning the room with a quiet detachment. It’s like you’re here, but not really. The party swirls around you, but you sit untouched by its chaos. There’s something familiar in the way your gaze drifts, a softness in the way you carry yourself, as if you’re silently wishing to be anywhere else, just like him. 

His heart skips, the noise of the party fading just a little as he watches you, wondering why on earth you are here, or where you even came from. He’s been dragged to enough of these house parties to recognise almost everyone; it’s always the same crowd of wasted university students, all looking for a cheap night and a place to get fucked up.

You shift slightly on the couch, adjusting your position as if you’re trying to get comfortable but failing. The small movement is enough to stir something in Jongseong, a quiet push that breaks through his hesitation of going over to speak with you. He pushes off the wall, weaving through the crowd, his gaze never leaving you. Each step brings him closer to you and further from the loud, chaotic energy around him.

When he finally reaches the couch, Jongseong stands there, smiling down at you. Up close, he notices the small details about you - the way your eyes are slightly glazed over like you're staring through the crowd rather than at it. Your posture is relaxed, like someone who's given up on finding anything remotely interesting in this chaotic scene. You’re lazily twirling a strand of hair around your finger, your other hand drumming absentmindedly on the armrest, and every so often, you let out a quiet sigh. It’s clear you’re bored, as if you're here out of obligation or maybe even on a dare, but definitely not because you're enjoying it.

Jongseong wonders for a moment if approaching you is the right move. Maybe you're waiting for someone, or maybe you'd rather just be left alone to your boredom. But he’s already here, and backing out now would be even more awkward. Besides, there’s a part of him that thinks you might welcome the distraction.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft but just loud enough to be heard over the music. He gives you a small, tentative smile, trying to convey that he’s not like the other loser men at this party, that he’s not here to make your night more unbearable. “Is that seat taken?”

The sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts, startling you for a split second before your eyes lock onto his face. And what a beautiful face it is. His sharp jawline, soft eyes, and the hint of smile lines add to his handsomeness. The dyed white hair that’s slicked back to showcase his fresh undercut makes your mouth dry, then water just a little as you catch yourself staring.

Shaking off the daze his looks have put you in, you nod your head and smile. “Actually, my friend, Imaginary, is sitting right here,” you joke, patting the seat next to you lightly, “but I think she might move for you.”

Jongseong smirks, charmed by your wit, and takes a seat, spreading his legs just enough that his knee brushes yours. A subtle, intentional move that sends a tiny jolt of awareness through you. The music pounds around you, and the room vibrates with the beat, but here, with him so close, it feels like you’re in a different world - a bubble separate from the chaos.

"Are you new?" he asks, his voice carrying a warmth that cuts through the cold disinterest of the party.

"No, but I don't normally come to parties like this," you admit, glancing around the crowded room.

"Why not?" His eyes stay on you, curious, almost as if he’s trying to decipher the puzzle of who you are. There is something so intriguing about you, his soul suddenly ignited by even the prospect of knowing you.

You gesture around you with a slight roll of your eyes. "Lots of drunk people with egos even though they're only uni kids? Not exactly my favourite." The words drip with sarcasm, your disdain evident in the flatness of your tone. You can’t think of anywhere worse than this - people stumbling around, half-shouted conversations about nothing of substance, the smell of stale beer and sweat hanging thick in the air. It’s a headache in the making, a mess of too much noise and not enough space, a place where everything blurs into a haze of chaos and bad decisions. You’d rather be anywhere else, where people know how to handle themselves without being obnoxious, where the air is fresh and the conversations have weight.

Your answer earns a snicker from Jongseong. He ducks his head, a smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, he looks genuinely amused - like he’s found a hidden gem amidst all the nonsense around him. He takes a second to soak it in, feeling something light and warm settle in his chest. 

When he glances back up at you, there’s a brightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "Okay, let me ask you another question, then - why are you here?" he asks, his tone playful but curious, like he’s genuinely invested in peeling back the layers of who you are. 

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I'm gonna have to start charging you for all these questions, y’know." There’s a teasing edge in your voice, but underneath it, there’s also a spark - something alive and electric, something that catches Jongseong off guard, a flicker in his heart.

He laughs softly, nodding along with a look that says he’s enjoying this more than he thought he would. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t just play along with the usual small talk but actually pushes back a little, makes him work for it. He hadn’t expected you to have so much spunk and confidence from just watching you sit there, looking lost in thought. It’s refreshing - a sharp contrast to the superficial conversations that fill the room around him. 

In all honesty, he thought you might have pushed him off, unwilling to even entertain him, never mind willingly try and drag out the conversation with him. That’s what he gets for judging a book by its cover.

"I can pay for a meet-and-greet, don’t worry," he says, his voice low and smooth, proud yet playful. His eyes gleam with a challenge, like he’s throwing down a gauntlet he hopes you’ll pick up. There’s an unspoken dare there, a flirtatious edge that makes your heart skip a beat. It feels like you’re both dancing on the edge of something - something that could tip into something real, something interesting, if either of you is brave enough to take the next step.

“So,” he continues, leaning back slightly, more relaxed now, “why are you here?”

He takes a sip of his drink, and it’s then that he notices you don’t have one. You don’t seem to mind, though, and he doesn’t comment on it, but it strikes him as a little odd. Typically, if someone is having a fuck awful time at a party, they drown themselves in alcohol to let inhabitions go and just pray to God they don’t make a fool of themselves. He knows there has to be a story there, and he can’t wait to uncover it.

"Thought I would check it out. I hear they’re all the rage," you say with a wry smile, clearly feeling the distaste on your tongue. 

Truth is, you’re trying new things this year, pushing your boundaries to help form your character. You’re sick of hearing about all these experiences through the lenses of TikTok videos and Instagram posts from your friends; it’s time to start living out the life you want. Not everything will be your cup of tea - tonight if quite evident of that, you can certainly cross parties off your FOMO list - but there is no harm in trying different things,

“Eh, parties are overrated, if I'm being honest,” he replies, his eyes tracing the features of your face. You’re so beautiful but so fucking familiar. He doesn’t know you, he would remember someone as ethereal as you. But there is part of him that feels you deep inside, as though you’ve rocked something in his soul.

Like you’re placing yourself home in his heart.

"Okay. Then why are you here?" you challenge back, your eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity.

Jongseong leans in a little, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I hate these parties. Can’t stand how loud and irritating they are. The noise, the drunk people who can't hold their alcohol, the same shallow conversations...” His words trail off as he glances around, his lip curling in mild distaste. “I’ve always been a people person, but…just not these people.”

Sucking your teeth, you nod, agreeing with every last syllable of his sentence. You feel this on another level, but considering he seems to be acquainted with parties enough to dissect and disregard them so easily, you still ponder your question. 

Raising your eyebrows, you silently wait for him to continue.  

“Y’know Sunghoon? The campus heartthrob?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He hates to refer to his best friend as such, but that is literally his title within the university. Sunghoon is notorious for having girls and guys falling at his feet, kissing the ground he walks on because he has been voted Korea’s perfect face three years in a row. Jongseong doesn’t grudge it, he votes for his friend too, and he isn’t blind, he can see how attractive he is.

“Yeah?” you respond, intrigued.

“Well, believe it or not, that beautiful son of a bitch is my best friend.”

Considering the way this boy presents himself, you would have genuinely never guessed that he was friends with someone as high profile as Park  Sunghoon. However, it does explain why, even if he hates the parties, he attends nonetheless. 

You chuckle, your eyes glinting as you begin to steer the conversation in the direction you both want it to sail. “You’re saying that like you aren’t equally as pretty.”

Jongseong flushes, his cheeks dusting a faint pink. The warmth spreads across his face, and he bites back a grin, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. It’s the tiny confirmation he needed to know that you want to flirt with him. That information alone perks his confidence up, although still shy under your flattering observation. He quickly plasters on a teasing smirk, fluttering his lashes dramatically and placing his hand under his chin, wiggling his fingers. “Oh? So you think I’m pretty?”

The scene before you brings out an even bigger laugh from you than earlier, though it’s not mocking or condescending - just pure amusement and joy. It’s infectious, and Jongseong feels his heart swell at the sound. He has the sudden urge to make you laugh like that for a long time, to see that carefree sparkle in your eyes again and again. He doesn’t want to say forever, but his heart is sure screaming it.

“I think you’re pretty, yes,” you say, your smile soft and genuine, your eyes sparkling under the annoying table-side lamp with its harsh white bulb - a stark contrast to the warmth you radiate. The lamp is obnoxious and stupid, casting its ugly, sterile light on everything around it, much like several of the people at this party. But Jongseong can't help but find it almost poetic that it’s illuminating something - or rather, someone - so captivating. 

There’s a sense of irony in how this harsh, artificial light only seems to highlight the genuine softness in your expression, the way you carry yourself with a quiet confidence that makes you stand out without even trying. You shine so brightly, even in a room full of noise and chaos, and Jongseong begins to sense just why he was so drawn to you at first glance.

It’s not as if you’re ‘not like other girls’ or whatever cringe, indie-female-lead syndrome that sounds like. No, it’s that in a room full of people competing to be seen, you’re the only one who Jongseong cares to know about. There’s a magnetism to the way you occupy your space - comfortable in your own skin, bored but not bitter, playful but not insincere. You seem untethered from the superficial games playing out around you, and that’s what makes you different. It’s not that you’re trying to be; it’s that you simply are - at least, in Jongseong’s eyes.

He feels a warmth spread through his chest, a lightness he hasn’t felt for a long time. For a moment, the noise of the party fades, replaced by the sound of your laughter, ringing clear and unforced, like something rare and precious in a place like this. It strikes him then - how easy it would be to just keep listening to that sound, to find ways to make you laugh again, to see how your eyes light up when you’re amused.

“How about we get out of here?” Jongseong suggests, his voice laced with a hint of excitement that he can’t quite hide. “Grab some food, and I’ll walk you home.”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Leaving this place does sound tempting...but here’s the thing, I don’t even know you,” you say, your words playful, though the interest in your eyes betrays how intrigued you really are.

He feels a flicker of embarrassment for not having introduced himself sooner. “Shit, sorry. Let me introduce myself.” He straightens up, setting his cup down with a small, almost sheepish grin. Then, with a playful seriousness that makes you chuckle, he extends his hand, inviting and warm. “I’m Jay, I’m 22 years old, I study music technology, and I’m single.”

You can’t help but smile at his theatrics, mirroring his gesture and placing your hand in his. The warmth of his skin sends a flutter through your stomach, your insides skipping in joy all of a sudden, but you ignore it, focusing instead on the easy banter between you. “My name is Y/N, I am 23 years old, and I am also single,” you reply, your tone matching his playful formality.

His grin widens, a flash of confidence in his eyes. “Sounds like the perfect match, don’t you think?” There’s a charm to him that’s hard to resist, an easy confidence that makes you feel like you’ve known him much longer than just these few minutes.

As you hold his gaze, you find yourself drawn to him in a way that surprises you. It’s not just his looks - though there’s no denying he’s handsome - it’s his energy, his wit, the warmth that radiates from him. Never in your life has someone matched your energy so well. He’s like a breath of fresh air in a space that feels stifling, and it’s intoxicating in a way that no drink here could ever be.

You knew, from that very moment, that you wanted to know more about him, and he knew he was going to marry you one day.

_____

"A treasure hunt?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice as you raise an eyebrow at him.

Jongseong had thought about you nonstop since the moment he walked you home from that party. A few stolen moments in your company, a brief but memorable conversation - it had not been enough. Not nearly enough. It was as if something inside him ignited that night, a quiet but unrelenting fire, burning through his thoughts whenever your face crossed his mind. The way you laughed, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke - it was intoxicating, and he found himself craving more. So much more. 

His friends had noticed too; he wasn’t subtle in the least. Every chance he got, he’d talk about you, about the brief time you two had spent together, already analysing every moment like a lovestruck fool.

And so, he’d come up with this date: a treasure hunt. A way to get to know you, to create an experience that wasn’t just the mundane dinner or movie date. No, this had to be different. You deserved different. Something unique. He’d spent days working out the details, coming up with clues, places, and the perfect way to make this evening special. He wanted you to smile, to laugh, to feel how much thought he had poured into this. 

Jongseong grins, proud of himself, "Yep. Well, sort of. I'm going to give you an envelope, and you're going to figure out the riddle."

Your lips curve into a soft smile, the kind that makes his heart race in a way he’s almost embarrassed to admit. You're used to men putting in the bare minimum. Dinner and a movie, sometimes even just a text at 11 pm, wondering if you were still awake. But this? This is different. He’d thought about this, actually put in effort. A treasure hunt on a first date? It was quirky, yes, but endearing. It makes you wonder if somehow, during that boring party, you found a ruby amongst diamonds. The idea makes your stomach flutter slightly and anticipation build.

"Okay," you tease, holding out your hand, palm up. "Where is this magical envelope with all the answers then?"

"Well..." Jongseong steps closer to you, the air between you buzzing with unspoken tension, playful and light. He pulls the envelope from his suede brown jacket pocket and dangles it just above your open hand. As you reach for it, Jongseong pulls away at the last second, flashing you a mischievous grin.

“Really?” You huff, your voice carrying more amusement than frustration. He’s playing with you, and you can’t deny you enjoy it.

"Not so fast," he says, heart thrumming in his chest so loud because fuck you look so beautiful, he just wants to be as close to you as possible. So, he steps even closer, his body towering over yours. The warmth from his body feels almost tangible, and the playful gleam in his eyes makes your heart stutter. "You have to answer me one question before I give it to you."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, though it’s all in good fun. "So not only do I need to use my brain and solve a puzzle, I also have to divulge personal information? You really know how to get a girl talking."

"Pretty much, yeah." His smile is smug, and you can tell he’s feeling particularly clever about his little scheme. It’s adorable, really. 

"And if I say no?"

"Then this date ends very quickly," he shrugs, feigning nonchalance, though you can tell he’s trying hard to mask his anticipation. He leans in slightly, voice low and teasing. "And you miss out on my meticulously planned adventure."

His words are light, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of vulnerability there. He’s trying to play it cool, but you sense how much he hopes you’ll say yes. That small spark of emotion hidden behind his teasing makes your heart soften just a little more. There’s something so sweet in how much effort he’s putting in, and you can’t help but feel drawn to it. Feel drawn to him.

With a dramatic sigh, you nod, "Fine, what’s the question then?"

Jongseong chuckles, clearly pleased with himself and his persuading manner. "Straight to the point. I like it." He holds the envelope out again, this time a little closer to your palm. "What’s your favourite type of food?"

You pause, considering for a moment before a smile spreads across your face. "Hmm... Italian, or! Caribbean."

He raises an eyebrow at your sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Both?"

"I mean, how could I possibly choose between ravioli and kabritu stoba?" You laugh, feeling the lightness of the conversation flow easily between you. This is nice, it feels like you have somehow known each other for years.

"Fair enough," he says, nodding approvingly. He waves the envelope slightly, catching your attention. "Now, open this."

You tear it open carefully, unfolding the piece of paper inside. The words are written in neat, careful handwriting, a small clue to the meticulous planning that went into this.

"To taste where flavours meet and blend, Find the 5treet where numb3Rs enD. Look where hungry students convene, The number’s hidden in this scene."

You frown slightly, reading it over again. Riddles aren’t exactly your strong suit, but you try to piece it together. Okay, there's a 53 in there, and R and D are capatilised...hungry students? Then it hits you, a beam of satisfaction at how quickly you managed to solve it shining from your pleased grin.

"53rd Note!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. "The food stall on campus!" You look at him, a grin tugging at your lips. "I'm right, aren’t I?"

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Jongseong simply gestures for you to lead the way. What he doesn’t expect, however, is for you to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his in a way that feels so easy, so natural, it takes him by surprise. His heart skips a beat, something he didn’t think was possible in a moment as simple as this. Your hand in his feels...perfect. Warm, comforting, and everything he didn’t know he needed until now.

You feel the shift too - the way the simple touch adds a new layer to the evening. There’s something electric in the air, a sense of anticipation and excitement. It’s just a handhold, you tell yourself, but there’s more to it. The quiet understanding, the subtle acknowledgement of a connection that neither of you is ready to speak about just yet, in fear of jinxing something.

As you walk together toward the diner, the city lights twinkling above, the world feels a little smaller. It’s just the two of you, hands clasped, both of you teetering on the edge of something that feels new and exhilarating. Jongseong glances at you from the corner of his eye, his heart pounding in a way he knows he won’t forget. He’s down bad for you, that much he’s realised, fuck, he even came to this conclusion when you told him your name. But now, holding your hand, walking beside you on a slightly chilly evening, the sun setting in for bedtime while the moon starts its shift, he thinks maybe - hopefully - you might be down for him too.

_

The walk to 53rd Note is relatively short, yet it feels like time expands as you and Jongseong fall into an effortless rhythm of conversation. There’s no awkwardness, no fumbling through the typical, banal exchanges that often fill first dates - no one asking about favourite colours or talking endlessly about the weather surrounding you. Instead, the dialogue between you flows naturally, easily, as if you’ve known each other far longer than you have.

Jongseong’s questions are thoughtful, pulling you into a deeper conversation that takes you by surprise in the best way possible. "Why did you pick your major?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his tone. You find yourself opening up, explaining your passions and dreams, not feeling the need to hold back. There’s something about the way he listens that makes you feel heard, truly heard. His eyes never wander, his attention never falters - he is fully attentive.

"Is silver jewellery your thing, or are you allergic to gold?" he asks with a chuckle, glancing at the small silver ring on your finger. The question is odd but endearing, making you laugh. And when you ask about his interest in food, you learn that cooking is one of his many hidden talents. He admits to almost studying culinary arts before choosing music tech, a decision that sparks even more questions between you both.

The conversation continues, and you feel your guard slowly falling, piece by piece. You even ask him why he decided to talk to you that night at the party. His answer is simple, yet it holds weight. "I just wanted to get to know you."

By the time you reach the little food stall nestled on the corner of the student campus, you’re both lost in conversation and laughter. The place is a campus favourite, known for its amazing food and usual agonising long queues. It’s the kind of spot everyone flocks to after lectures or late-night study sessions. But tonight, something is off. The shutters are down, and the sign on the shutter swings lazily in the breeze, declaring the stall closed.

"I-It’s closed," you stammer, disappointment heavy in your voice, not because you can’t eat here, but because you feel a twinge of guilt knowing how Jongseong must have spent time planning all of this, and now you've hit a hurdle at the first stop. The last thing you want is for his carefully thought-out plan to be ruined so suddenly.

But when you turn to face him, the smile on his face hasn’t faltered. If anything, it’s grown wider, as if he’s completely unfazed by the situation. "Come on," he says, his voice full of quiet confidence as he gently squeezes your hand and leads you towards the shutter.

The stall is small but charming, with a bright yellow exterior and hand-painted menus plastered along the walls. Colourful string lights hang above it, though they’re unlit now, swaying lightly in the evening breeze. You notice a small table tucked beside the stall, probably a place for students to gather and chat as they wait for their orders. Everything about this place radiates warmth, even though it's currently closed.

Jongseong raises his hand and knocks on the metal shutter, the sound loud enough to startle a few birds perched nearby. Moments later, the shutter rolls up with a slow creak, revealing a boy wearing an apron and hairnet on the other side. His face lights up as he sees you both, his excitement palpable.

"Two to go, please," Jongseong grins at his friend, whose eyes gleam with understanding. Jake, nods enthusiastically, already bustling behind the counter. You quickly realise this is all part of Jongseong’s plan.

"You... how did you know he was in there?" you ask, confusion and amusement blending together as you look between Jake, who is clumsily wrapping up your food, and Jongseong, who’s leaning casually against the counter, looking as if everything is going perfectly to plan.

Jongseong’s cool demeanour makes you smile. "I know the owner," he says with a nonchalant shrug. "He let me borrow the hut for a minute."

In truth, Jongseong had to beg Woobin - the actual owner - to close up shop during peak hours. It wasn’t an easy feat. He had offered everything he could think of in exchange: guitar lessons, study help, and even his favourite hoodie. Woobin had eventually relented after enough pleading, but only on the condition that Jongseong wouldn’t touch the stock. Still, it worked out, and now here he is, pretending it was all effortlessly arranged.

"The normal guy isn’t here, though?" you ask, glancing at Jake, who looks completely out of his depth as he fumbles with the wrapping paper. It’s clear he doesn’t normally work here, but you can’t help but appreciate his enthusiasm.

Jongseong shifts slightly, his posture still casual, but you notice the flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He takes a breath, his voice calm but tinged with something deeper. "Ah, well... I cooked this meal."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you see a flash of vulnerability in him, a rare crack in his otherwise confident exterior. He’s laid himself bare now. The pressure isn’t just about whether this date is going well - it’s about whether you’ll like his food. 

For Jongseong, cooking is an act of love. Growing up, it had always been how his family showed they cared. His mum, his grandmother, they had taught him that food was more than just sustenance. It was a way to express emotion, to bring people together. And now, he’s hoping you’ll understand that.

He watches you carefully, his heart pounding in his chest as he waits for your reaction. This isn’t just any meal. It’s his way of subtly showing you how much he could care for you, not just tonight, but for as long as you’ll have him. You can feel the weight of his unspoken words, the silent hope behind his playful banter. It’s more than just food; it’s a gesture, a glimpse into how deeply he’s already fallen for you.

Jake hands over the dishes with an exaggerated flourish, grinning from ear to ear. "Enjoy, my beautiful lovebirds," he says, winking at the two of you. You stifle a laugh, watching as Jongseong’s face flushes slightly, the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. He’s clearly embarrassed by his friend’s teasing, and for a moment, you think he might actually throttle Jake. But you, on the other hand, find it sweet - endearing even - and thank Jake with a bright smile, not at all put off by the comment.

Being lovebirds with Jongseong isn’t hard to imagine, not really.

As you and Jongseong approach the small table near the stall, you take a moment to appreciate the surroundings. It’s a simple wooden setup, aged from the constant exposure to student life - scuffed by countless bags, elbows, and books. Yet tonight, it feels like it’s transformed into something more intimate as if the evening air and the quiet chatter in the distance have turned it into your own private dining space. The string lights above the stall, though unlit, seem to glimmer faintly in the twilight, casting a soft glow over the scene. The air is cool, but not cold, carrying the faint scent of campus greenery and the distant hum of city life.

Jongseong pulls out one of the two chairs for you, a small gesture, but one that sends a flicker of warmth through you. As you sit, he unravels the paper bag, the rustling sound filling the air, and the intoxicating aroma of the food reaches your nose before you even see what’s inside.

The first thing you notice is the kimchijjigae. The spicy tang hits you instantly, its deep red broth shimmering with flavour. The scent of fermented cabbage, tofu, and gochugaru wafts up, causing your stomach to rumble in anticipation. Beside it are two perfectly portioned servings of fried rice, golden and inviting, alongside bindaetteok - crispy mung bean pancakes that look so perfectly golden-brown, you can almost hear the crunch as you imagine biting into them.

Everything looks so carefully prepared, yet it’s simple, unpretentious. The kind of food that speaks volumes about the one who made it. Your heart swells as you realise how much thought went into this meal, into every tiny detail. It's not just about the food, it's about the care behind it.

"You made all of this?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with awe as you gaze at the beautifully arranged dishes in front of you. Despite the simplicity, the food looks incredible, and you can feel the thought and effort poured into it. You glance up at Jongseong, your eyes filled with admiration.

He nods, handing you a cup of water after pouring it carefully from the bottle Jake had given him. "Yeah," he says, his tone casual, but there’s an underlying nervousness in his eyes, as if he’s waiting for your reaction, hoping you’ll like what he’s made. "Everything’s vegan too. I wasn’t sure if you had any dietary restrictions or didn’t eat meat, so I went with the safest option."

That small detail, the consideration behind it, makes your chest tighten. He had thought of everything. You’d never mentioned anything about your diet, yet he had gone out of his way to make sure the meal would suit you, just in case. It’s such a thoughtful gesture, so full of quiet care, that it nearly overwhelms you. It’s not just the food he’s offering - it’s a piece of himself, his heart wrapped up in every bite.

Your heart swells with affection, and you smile so widely it almost hurts. "That’s...incredibly thoughtful," you murmur, feeling the weight of what he’s done settle warmly in your chest. You’re not used to people putting this much effort into dates, let alone cooking a meal tailored to your needs without even knowing them. In fact, you don’t think anyone has ever put this much effort into you as a person. It makes you feel seen, cared for, in a way that surprises you.

Without another word, you take your chopsticks and carefully lift a small piece of bindaetteok, its crispy edges crackling slightly as you bite into it. The taste is immediate; crispy on the outside, soft and delicate inside, with a rich flavour that bursts on your tongue. It’s perfect, so perfectly seasoned and balanced that you can’t help but let out a small, delighted squeal.

Your eyes light up as you look at him, your hands coming together in a quick, enthusiastic clap. "Oh my God, Jongseong!" you exclaim, your excitement bubbling over as your feet bounce under the table. "This is amazing!"

Jongseong lets out a relieved laugh, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he watches your reaction. His eyes soften, filled with a quiet joy that he can’t quite put into words. "I’m glad you like it," he says, his voice a little quieter now, the relief and warmth evident in his tone. But there’s something more in his expression, a look of pure contentment as if seeing you happy has made all the anxiety he’s been feeling completely worth it.

He wants to make you this happy forever.

You dig into the rest of the food eagerly, trying the kimchijjigae next. The broth is spicy but comforting, the heat hitting you just right without being overwhelming. The fried rice is fluffy, with a subtle but rich taste that perfectly complements the other dishes. Every bite feels like a hug, the kind of meal that fills both your stomach and your heart.

As you eat and chatter, you can’t help but look at Jongseong, this boy who’s already managed to sweep you off your feet without even trying, your heart doing most of the soaring. You see the way he watches you, the small smile that tugs at his lips every time you take another bite or tell him another story. He’s nervous, but proud, clearly pleased that you’re enjoying the meal. And in that moment, you realise how much he’s already starting to mean to you. This is more than just a first date - it’s the beginning of something, something that feels real and full of possibility.

As you finish the last bite, you feel a surge of warmth spreading through you—not just from the food, but from the entire experience. The way Jongseong has thought through every detail, from the meal to the riddles, makes your heart swell with affection. You smile, letting the emotion seep into your voice as you look up at him. "Jongseong," you say softly, holding his gaze, "this was...perfect. Compliments to the chef."

Without missing a beat, Jongseong's face lights up with pride. He stands up with an exaggerated bow, playing up his role as the triumphant chef, and gives a few playful nods to an imaginary audience. His movements are full of cocky grace, a confidence that’s both endearing and maddening in the best way. You can’t help but laugh, your body suddenly feeling warmer at how effortlessly charming he is - this is depth to Jongseong that you desperately want to unravel, layer by layer.

In more ways than one.

Still glowing with laughter, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another envelope, teasingly waving it in front of you. "Now," he says, his smirk growing wider, "you want the next envelope?"

Nodding eagerly, you can barely contain the glee and anticipation bubbling up inside you. The treasure hunt has been so fun, and now you’re ready to see what’s next.

"Okay," he begins, placing the envelope on the table in front of you, his eyes glinting with mischievous delight. "But first, you’ve got to answer my question."

You nod again, this time pretending to adopt a serious game face, your brows furrowing in faux concentration as you prepare yourself for whatever difficult question he’s about to ask.

"Who was the first person you ever went to see in concert?" Jongseong asks, leaning in, his smirk turning a little more playful.

Your confident expression falters as you immediately dissolve into laughter, the memory of your first concert flashing vividly in your mind. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress your giggles, but it’s no use. Jongseong raises an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. "Oh, there’s a story here, huh?" he prompts, grinning wider. "Is it embarrassing?"

"Not embarrassing... maybe," you begin, still giggling as the memory takes hold of you. "It was... an ‘In the Night Garden’ experience. I was seven years old, and I got to dance with them on stage." You snort, remembering how excited and utterly starstruck you were as a child.

Jongseong blinks once, then twice, as if trying to process the image, and then bursts out laughing. He leans back in his chair, throwing his head back with full, hearty laughter that echoes through the quiet evening air. It’s a deep, unrestrained laugh that makes your heart skip a beat, the kind that feels as warm and genuine as everything else about him. You join in, your laughter melding with his, both of you giggling like children at the sheer absurdity of your revelation.

"In the Night Garden?" he repeats, still chuckling, his voice filled with disbelief. "The kids' show? I was expecting you to say something like EXO or SHINee!"

You hide your face in your hands, the realisation dawning on you that it is, in fact, kind of embarrassing. But you can’t help but laugh at yourself. "I did see EXO and SHINee later on, but they weren’t my first!" you protest between giggles.

"You didn’t think to lie?" he teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Not at all," you say, your voice softening as the laughter dies down. There’s something wistful in your tone now, a hint of sincerity that catches even you by surprise. "I don’t want to lie to you, not about the silly stuff and…not about the serious stuff either."

For a moment, the air between you changes. The playful banter gives way to something deeper, a quiet understanding that passes between you. It’s as if, in this small moment, you’re both realising how much you want to be honest with each other - how much you want to truly know each other. You see Jongseong’s face shift, his teasing grin softening into something tender, something full of affection. He can see it, the way you’re falling a little deeper into him with every word, every shared laugh, and the joy that fills his face is undeniable. His eyes sparkle, and his lips curve into a smile so warm, it feels like a promise.

"Well," he says, pushing the envelope across the table toward you with a soft, satisfied sigh, "I think you’ve earned the next clue."

With a grin, you eagerly take the envelope, your fingers tingling with excitement as you carefully tear it open. The riddle inside reads:

"Under a bridge of lights, a river’s friend. Where music plays, the night will never end. So gather near, beneath the sky so bright, And hear the melodies that fill the night."

The moment you finish reading it, a confident smile spreads across your face. "Oh, this is easy," you say, wiggling your shoulders smugly. "It’s the Han River."

Jongseong nods, impressed but not surprised. "Of course. But there’s a little surprise waiting for you. Come on." He stands, holding out his hand to you, his eyes twinkling with proud knowing.

You take his hand instinctively, your fingers curling naturally around his. As you stand up, you find yourself moving closer to him, your bodies leaning into each other in a way that feels effortless, natural. The walk toward the river feels different, like every step brings you closer, not just physically but emotionally. The night air wraps around you, cool but pleasant, and the distant city lights shimmer like stars scattered along the horizon. The quiet hum of life around you fades into the background as your focus narrows to the warmth of Jongseong's hand in yours and the soft sound of your footsteps together.

Your heart beats steadily, not with nerves, but with a quiet certainty: you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

_

As you approach the Han River, the usual serene atmosphere is broken by the soft hum of excitement. A crowd is gathered by one section, and you spot people seated in a semi-circle, the area aglow with warm, delicate fairy lights and scattered fake candles that twinkle like stars against the night sky. Amps are neatly arranged around a modest stage setup, cables snaking across the ground as if drawing people into the intimate space. The whole scene feels like it’s been lifted from a dream—cosy, inviting, and charged with quiet anticipation.

You turn to Jongseong, eyebrows raised in question. "Is this one of those busking things?"

"Not just any busking thing," he corrects you, his grin widening as he pulls two tickets from his pocket. His excitement is hard to contain as he watches you inspect them.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes fall on the print: Sam Kim, filming for Begin Again Open Mic.

"How did you—?" you begin, stunned, unable to process how he’d managed to pull off something so incredible.

"I might have stalked your Instagram a bit," he admits with a sheepish chuckle, though his expression is anything but embarrassed. "Saw you post about him a few times and figured it was a sure thing.” The tickets weren’t easy to get, though, that part he isn’t telling you. He had to sell one of his precious guitars to make it happen, but the look on your face right now? Totally worth it. 

Your eyes well up, not from sadness, but from a deep, overwhelming appreciation. There’s something unfamiliar yet beautiful blooming in your chest, a warmth that spreads through you and makes your heart race in a way it hasn’t before. "Thank you so much, Jongseong," you whisper, the words falling out on their own. 

Never have you looked at a man and felt this way, and you don’t think you ever will unless it’s Jongseong.

Before you can stop yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. At first, he seems caught off guard, his body stiffening for a moment. But then, as if the feeling clicks into place, he quickly relaxes into the hug, his arms encircling you with gentle but firm pressure. You feel him bury his face briefly into your hair, inhaling your scent, committing it to memory like it’s something precious he wants to hold onto. His warmth wraps around you like a protective shield, and for a second, the world fades away.

If this is what being with you is like, he never wants to spend another minute apart.

"Come on," he murmurs into your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Let’s get our seats."

He leads you toward a blanket with his name written on a small tag in, neatly reserved in one of the best spots. As you approach, he helps you settle down onto the blanket, standing behind you attentively as you smooth out your skirt. It’s a simple gesture - making sure you’re comfortable, that your clothes are fixed just right and you don’t unwillingly flash the poor couple behind you - but it feels like so much more. Your skirt, a flowing, light fabric that swishes around your legs, catches the evening breeze as you adjust yourself, and you find yourself grateful for his thoughtfulness.

Once you’re seated, Jongseong slips down beside you, the space between you both comfortably close. He takes off his jacket and places it over your legs, to shield you from the biting cold wind from the river and reserve your modesty. 

Just as you settle in, the quiet murmur of the crowd dies down, and the soft strum of a guitar fills the air. Sam Kim steps onto the small, makeshift stage, his presence met with excited murmurs and appreciative applause from the audience.

You can’t believe it. Sam Kim, live and in person, just a few metres away. Your heart swells as the first notes of ‘Closer’ begin to play, the song wrapping around you like an old memory, one you didn’t realise you had been holding so close. The smooth timbre of Sam’s voice fills the cool night air, his words resonating deep within you.

You feel yourself lean instinctively toward Jongseong, and without hesitation, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer into his side. His warmth anchors you as the music washes over you both, your head resting lightly against his shoulder. He presses his chin softly atop your head, his hand lightly tracing your arm in slow, comforting strokes.

The tenderness of the moment, combined with Sam Kim’s voice singing about longing and love, stirs something deep inside you. As the next song begins - Seattle - its delicate melody and heartfelt lyrics unravel any composure you had left. Tears prick at your eyes, and you can’t help but let them fall as the song’s quiet emotion seeps into every fibre of your being. There’s something about the raw vulnerability in the music, in the moment, that makes it impossible to hold back.

Jongseong notices right away. Without a word, he gently tightens his hold on you, pulling you closer into him as if to shield you from the overwhelming emotion. He presses his lips softly against your temple in a tender, wordless gesture of comfort, his breath warm and steady against your skin.

As soon as his mouth makes contact with your skin, he feels sick in such a profound way, that all his love and realisation is now reaching from his toes, past his heart, and into his brain.

You glance up at him through your damp lashes, and he meets your gaze with such sincerity that your heart skips a beat. His eyes are full of unspoken promises, of quiet understanding. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you, the way he looks at you, speaks louder than words ever could. In that moment, it feels like the music, the river, the night sky, and Jongseong are all blending together in perfect harmony.

The rest of the performance unfolds in a beautiful haze of music and soft touches. Each song Sam Kim plays feels like a gift, and by the time the last note fades into the night, you’re left with a feeling of warmth and connection that goes beyond the evening itself. It’s as though something shifted between you and Jongseong - a silent but profound acknowledgement that tonight was about more than just a date.

The final notes of the performance linger in the air, weaving through the soft hum of conversations around you. As the crowd begins to disperse, you wipe the last of your tears, touched not only by the music but by the entire night, Jongseong has crafted for you. His presence feels like an anchor, steady and reassuring amidst the emotional whirlpool of the evening.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" His voice is filled with concern, his gentle eyes scanning your face as though searching for any lingering sadness. You sense his earnestness, his desire to make sure every second of tonight was perfect for you. Jongseong knew you liked Sam Kim, but he hadn’t expected your deep connection to the music to stir such raw emotion in you. But now, seeing the impact it had, he’s certain Sam is officially his favourite artist too, simply because of what he’s done for you.

Smiling through the tenderness swelling in your chest, you nod and offer a playful pout. "I'm more than okay. Really, Jongseong, thank you so much for all of this. I don’t think I’ve ever had a date like this," you laugh, the joy bubbling up as you stand up, Jongseong quickly offering his hand to help you to your feet. His touch is light, but there’s an intimacy in the way he smooths out the wrinkles of your skirt, his fingers brushing over the fabric as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A laugh escapes you again, this one softer, almost wistful. "I don’t even think I’ll ever have a date like this again."

But the truth behind your words hits deeper than you let on. You know someone like Jongseong is rare, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of soul. The universe doesn’t often gift the world people like him so easily, and yet here he is, standing before you, having planned the most thoughtful evening you’ve ever experienced. It feels like a miracle, like some kind of cosmic alignment that allowed you to meet him.

Jongseong, ever so sweet, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Oh, you will," he says with a soft shake of his head, a playful yet sincere smile tugging at his lips. "Because I’m going to take you on dates bigger and better than this."

His words settle in your chest, a gentle promise that fills you with an almost dizzying sense of happiness. He’s not just thinking about tonight; he’s already imagining the future - your future together. What you don’t know is that during the mini-concert, as the singer’s voice crooned through the air, Jongseong was secretly planning the next date, and the one after that, and the next one after that one, and so many more. In his mind, he’s already picturing you both years down the line, holding hands when you’re old and grey, still laughing, still sharing moments like these. He’s jumping the gun here but that’s how much he wants you in his life, no, needs you in his life.

You reach up, your hand cupping his face, your thumb gently stroking the cool surface of his cheek. His skin feels smooth under your touch, but there’s a warmth beneath it, a warmth that spreads from him to you. "How about I plan the next one?" you offer, the words carrying a weight of confirmation - you want more. More moments like this, more laughter, more adventures. More him.

Jongseong’s eyes light up, his heart swelling with happiness. "Deal," he says, his voice low but laced with excitement. His gaze, however, drifts lower, his eyes falling to your lips. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with a new kind of energy. He’s no longer just thinking about the next date; he’s thinking about now. The urge to kiss you swells inside him, consuming his thoughts. He wants to feel your lips on his, to communicate the emotions he hasn’t been able to fully express with words. His pulse quickens as he realises just how close you are, how easy it would be to lean in, close the gap, and make this night even more unforgettable.

You sense his desire, and a matching one blooms within you. Your heart beats faster as you step closer, rising onto your tiptoes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you press your lips against his.

The kiss is soft at first, a delicate brush of skin against skin, but it carries the weight of all the unspoken feelings between you. Jongseong stills for a moment, his breath catching as he savours the sensation of your lips on his. There’s a gentleness in the way he kisses you, a quiet reverence as though he’s afraid to break the spell. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, but never rushes. Each movement is careful, slow, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

Your body tingles with warmth, a soft hum of pleasure spreading through you as you kiss him back. The world around you fades into the background—the quiet murmur of the river, the distant buzz of people - all of it disappearing as you lose yourself in the moment. His lips are warm and inviting, moulding perfectly to yours as though they were always meant to fit together. It’s sweet and unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world to explore the depth of this feeling.

As the kiss lingers, you feel the intensity of his emotions bleeding through, each press of his lips a silent confession. He’s telling you, without words, how much he’s already fallen for you. How he’s imagined a future with you, a lifetime of nights like this one. There’s a vulnerability in the kiss, an openness that makes your chest tighten with something more than affection. It feels like trust, like promise, like everything you’ve ever wanted but didn’t know you needed.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingles with his in the cool night air, your lips tingling with glee. His eyes are still closed, savouring the aftertaste of the kiss, as though he’s replaying it in his mind, etching it into his memory.

You both stand there for a moment, soaking in the adoration that seems to swirl around you. The Han River, mixed with the lights of the busking, and the love in the aire from the other couples, you feel it, all so immensely. Something has shifted. This isn’t just the start of something new - it’s the beginning of something deeply powerful. Something neither of you can quite put into words yet, but both of you feel it. It’s in the way he looks at you, in the way your lips just met, and in the way your hearts are already intertwining, bonding you to him for a lifetime.

Pulling himself away from the moment, Jongseong opens his eyes and grins down at you, kissing your forehead, desperate to keep his lips on you in some way. “Ready for the next one?”

“Oh, Absolutely.” Your answer is so self-assured and confident, there is no apprehension in your tone, only sheer enthusiasm to spend every waking minute with him.

Jongseong feels the same way, maybe even more than you. And he can’t wait for the day he gets to tell you how he fell in love with you in this moment.

_____

Laying in Jongseong’s bed, you slouch lazily against his headboard as you lose yourself in the words on your Kindle. The paragraphs of The Handmaiden grip you, pulling you into their twisted world, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside you - a cocktail of disgust, hope, fear, and love. Love especially lingers on your mind, but little do you know that someone beside you is feeling that emotion just as intensely, perhaps even more, because the reason for his swirling heart is real and currently wearing his AC/DC t-shirt.

He stares at you engrossed in your book and for some strange, inexplicable reason, his chest feels tight and the pressure behind his eyes hurt, like he is a bottle of coke and there is a packet of Mentos just landing inside his soul.

"I fucking love you so much," Jongseong says suddenly, his voice soft yet undeniably passionate, carrying a depth that cuts through the silence of the room like a bolt of lightning. His body language or facial expression doesn’t change, in fact, the feeling has been inside of him for so long that speaking the words into fruition doesn’t change a thing about him. 

You freeze, the words on your screen blurring as your mind tries to process what you just heard.  Did he really say that? Maybe you misheard him. “What?” you ask, turning your head to face him, and once you see the sincerity in his face and the fire in his eyes, your heart begins to race, and your question is answered.

“I love you,” he repeats, more pointed this time so you know there is not even a wiggle of doubt, his eyes locked onto yours with a look so sincere it leaves you breathless. “More than my heart or my chest can hold in.” 

His confession takes you completely by surprise. It feels so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment, you’re left speechless. You knew he cared deeply for you - his actions and gentle gestures have always spoken louder than words - but hearing it now, on a random Wednesday night, three months into your relationship, when you were just lounging in his bed, didn’t seem like his style at all. 

And you were right, Jongseong was always the one for grand gestures, for perfectly planned moments. He wanted to tell you over a candlelit dinner, complete with a big speech about all the reasons he fell for you, fighting the urge to tell you on your very first date. But he knew his feelings, he couldn’t deny them nor did he ever want to, however, maybe blurting out ‘I love you’ when he didn’t even know your favourite colour was a bit quick, so he decided to wait for the perfect moment, which he had guessed would be planned.

But there’s something so genuine about this moment - him saying it while you’re here, wearing his oversized t-shirt, your glasses perched on your nose, so absorbed in your book that you didn't even realise he was watching you. There’s no grand setup, no orchestrated plan - just pure, unfiltered feeling. Sometimes, you don’t need a big, fancy gesture; sometimes, the love is enough.

His hand reaches out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch pulls you in, makes you forget about everything else except him and the love reflected in his eyes. Somehow, he looks even more beautiful than he did 10 minutes ago.

You place your Kindle to the side, giving him your full attention, and clasp his fingers with yours, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse under your touch. “You love me?” you whisper, almost as if saying it too loudly might shatter the magic of this moment.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his voice as easy as breathing, because that’s exactly what it feels like to him. Falling in love is supposed to be scary and daunting, placing your heart in the palms of someone who could break it with one wrongdoing is enough to put people off giving and receiving the emotion. But Jongseong? He would give you every part of his body for you to keep hold of - for you to own. You are everything he needs in life, the only person he would start a war for, he trusts you completely; he has never felt anything this strongly before. 

Your chest feels like it’s suddenly desperate to connect with his, to close the gap between you both and merge yourselves as one whole being. His words sink into you, filling spaces you didn’t even know were empty. 

With a shaky breath, you hold back a tiny sob, the aura in the room too overwhelming for your heart. But not overwhelming enough to stop you from saying how you feel. “I love you too, Jongseong,” you confess, your voice trembling slightly, but not with uncertainty - rather with the sheer intensity of the truth.

He looks at you, searching your face for any hint of doubt. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, but it’s just the slight thread of insecurity in being so vulnerable with someone. "You mean it? You aren’t just saying it out of obligation? Because you do-”

You interrupt him, squeezing his hands tighter. “I mean it. More than anything else that has ever left my mouth. I love you.”

A Cheshire smile breaks across his face, bright and unrestrained. He grabs your face in a rush, his big hands enveloping your cheeks as he begins to pepper kisses all over your face - your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, every inch of skin he sees squished between his palms - until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Jongseong!” you squeal, your laughter infectious, and thus he keeps going, pinning you down gently, his weight warm and secure over you, his lips finding every spot that makes you laugh even harder until your sides hurt. This is what love is supposed to feel like, childlike and free, just as you two always are.

You are in love. So incredibly in love.

When he finally stops, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I will love you until my dying breath, Y/N L/N,” he promises, his voice low and solemn. The serious current that accompanies the joy in his voice tells you all you need to know, instilling you with confidence that this man means every word and every emotion he is pouring into you.

A grin spreads across your lips, and you can’t help the heartfelt response that tumbles out: “I’ll love you until we’re food for the worms to eat.”

Your morbid but romantic description makes his heart thump, his expression turning even brighter. He laughs, a rich, melodic sound that fills the room, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you like you’re the only girl in the world. “Had to one-up me, huh?” he jokes.

“You know me, always one step extra,” you tease, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt.

The kiss starts slow, tender - a soft press of lips that speaks of newfound confessions and the quiet promise of forever. His lips are warm, moving gently against yours, and you can feel the way his breath hitches like he’s savouring every second, every little brush of skin against skin. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low, rumbling groan from deep within his chest.

The kiss turns heated, a spark catching flame as his hands slide down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. He slots his body between your legs, his hips situated on yours as his member hilts against you. Your legs spread wider to let him fully lay on top of you, your boyfriend’s heart kissing your own with each beat.

His lips part, deepening the kiss, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. The world around you blurs; all you can feel is the heat of his body against yours, the way his lips mould perfectly with yours, and the electric current that courses through you with every touch, every breath. 

Jongseong’s hand grips your hip, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver, and his lips move with a hunger that matches the rapid beat of your heart. He’s pouring everything into this kiss - all his love, his need, his promise - until you’re both breathless and burning with a desire that you never want to end.

The kiss breaks for just a moment, enough for both of you to catch your breath and him to discard your t-shirt, but Jongseong’s lips don’t leave your skin for long. His forehead rests against yours, and the two of you share a lingering moment of closeness, eyes locked, hearts pounding in sync. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, a shared desire that flows in the charged air between you.

With a soft, almost reverent touch, Jongseong begins trailing kisses along your jawline, slow and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing every inch of your skin with his lips. Each kiss is a whisper of warmth, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through your body. You tilt your head back, giving him access, and he doesn’t waste a second. His mouth continues its descent, moving down to your neck where he plants open-mouthed kisses, his tongue brushing lightly against your pulse point, causing a shudder to run through you.

His hands, warm and steady, explore the curves of your body as he works his way lower, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He lingers there for a heartbeat, nipping gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on, and he responds with a low growl that reverberates against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

Jongseong shifts, his lips now trailing down to the valley between your breasts, each kiss more purposeful, more heated than the last. His breath is hot, his touch sure, and every movement, every press of his lips, leaves you aching for more. You arch your back, pushing yourself into him, craving the sensation of his mouth on your body.

As he continues his descent, kissing lower and lower, until he is at the band of your panties, his breath fans across your skin, and the anticipation builds with every second, every soft press of his lips against you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmurs between kisses, his voice thick with adoration.

You giggle, hiding your face at the chanting confession. You can’t believe a man so perfect is in love with you. Gently, you run your fingers through his hair and pout down at him, “I love you, too.”

The words brush down your torso and into Jongseong’s ears, eliciting a smile from him. That is all he has wanted to hear, from the moment he met you. He knows love like this is precious, and he never intends to waste it.

Carefully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and pull them down, your legs instinctively opening, showcasing your bare, glistening pussy for your boyfriend to see. It’s delicious, succulent, and all entirely for him to devour.

"So fucking pretty," he whispers, sending chills down your spine. The room feels hotter as he settles between your legs, tongue poking through his lips oh so teasingly to wet them, your clit weaping for attention. He does this to you a lot, makes your body react in ways it never has before, even after your first date you felt your panties soaking more and more to the point you dragged him into your dorm room and fucked him. 

Was it a smart idea to fuck a man on the first date? Not usually, but you knew from that day that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him so, what was the harm in some fun?

Kissing your clit, Jongseong looks up to watch you as he always does, loving the way your face conveys the pleasure you feel. Even the simplest of touches has you under his mercy. As he begins to lap at your core with his tongue, you can't help but clutch his hair, your fingers tangled in the strands as you grind into his face. Your back lifts from the bed as you seek even more pleasure.

Overcome with how you taste, he doesn’t even register your fingers in his hair, pulling at it harshly when he circles your clit with his tongue. You’re so wet as he slurps you up but there’s so much it’s dripping onto his chin. It serves as motivation to keep going, to pleasure you as much as possible, to show you how much he wants to devour you, both body and soul.

Jongseong doesn’t get pussy drunk with girls, but he does with you. Addicted to the taste and smell of you, he just wants to rub himself all over you, covering himself in your slick as if to scent him, like you’re both wolves in some ABO universe.

“Don’t stop, Jongseong,” you groan out, the backs of your feet digging into his back as you pin him down as best you can, signalling to him your need for more. 

Smirking at your desperation, Jongseong’s tongue runs itself along your entrance and it makes you buckle, pushing his head in further. He continues his effort, making you a panting mess. His tongue was a gift from God and you’ll need to thank the big man later when you meet him for blessing you with a sex-god boyfriend.

A sex-god boyfriend who is in love with you.

Dipping his tongue in a few times helps him gauge how tight you are, seeing how much prep he needs to give you before he can fuck his love into you. As if reading his lewd thoughts, he feels your pussy squeezing, his tongue taking advantage and swirling around to hit more circumference of your walls. 

“I can’t wait to be inside of you, baby. To show you how much i really love you.”

It’s funny that he thinks sex would showcase his love any more than his eyes and heart already do. You know he loves you, you might have been shocked at how abruptly he said it tonight, but you’ve always known. It’s in the way he kisses you, how he cooks dinner for you even after long days, and it’s in how he would give up anything to see you happy.

Your clit is suddenly being simulated by his nose, it poking at it slightly the more bountiful he inserts his tongue. It feels otherworldly, “Jongseong, s’good, so good, fuck,” Your fingers harshly massage his scalp as you wiggle, close to cumming.

He knows it too, you’re dripping so much it’s leaking over half of his face. It’s so fucking hot how you’re a mess like this, just for him, only for him. Jongseong switches his tactics, lips now encircled around your clit and sucking harshly on it, the new sensation causing you to cry out, a new wave of your juices dripping down his chin and onto his bedsheets 

And just a few seconds later, you’re coming undone. 

Jongseong, ever pleased with himself, cleans you up with his tongue, sucking up the slick that’s flowing form your hole and drinking it greedily. You taste so good he could spend hours down here. But unfortunately, and selfishly, he needs to fuck you. Right here, right now.

Wiping your essence from his mouth, Jongseong crawls up over your body, placing gentle kisses up your torso, past your heaving chest, and back to your lips. He stares at you with something deep in his iris’, a promise that he will always make you feel this inspired, this gleeful, and never cause you any harm. 

When you’re so in love with someone, all the emotions come with it. And while you both encompass the very being of adoration and love, sometimes that red that represented your passion for one another, turned into a shade none of you liked.

_____

Your heels slam against the tiled floor of the hallway as you march through the dimly lit corridor of your apartment building, the sound echoing like the beating of a war drum. Every step sends a jolt through your aching feet, but the pain is nothing compared to the simmering rage boiling in your veins. You fumble for your keys, hands trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury, the metallic clinking of the keyring mocking your every failed attempt. When you finally manage to fit the key into the lock, it sticks, just like it always does. You curse under your breath - a small, infuriating reminder of the list of things that should have been fixed, but like so many other things lately, were neglected.

You give the door a sharp push, the old wood groaning in protest as it swings open, the gust of night air brushing over your flushed skin, cooling the anger that’s blazing just beneath the surface. Without thinking, you slam it shut behind you, the force sending a jolt through your arm as the door rebounds off something - or rather, someone. Your boyfriend. The door collides with his face, eliciting a pained grunt as he catches it just in time to prevent further damage.

“Really, Y/N?” he groans, rubbing his jaw where the door had made contact. His voice is strained, more exasperated than angry, but it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

You toss your clutch onto the nearby table with a careless flick of your wrist, the sharp clatter slicing through the tense silence. Kicking off your shoes with more force than necessary, you whirl around to face him, your vision clouded by a searing flash of red-hot anger. You know you should apologise, at least for the door, but the apology sticks in your throat, smothered by the bitterness that’s bubbling up like a storm ready to burst.

Raking your fingers through your hair, you grip tightly at the roots, desperate to hold onto something, anything, to stop yourself from unravelling completely. “I don’t even want to look at you right now,” you spit, voice thick with venom, every word dripping with the weight of betrayal. Your expression twists into one of pure disgust as if just the sight of him is enough to set you off all over again.

You spin on your heel, determined to escape, but before you can make it to the sanctuary of your bedroom, you feel his gentle grip on your elbow. It’s a light touch, but it might as well be ironclad, and despite every fibre of your being screaming to pull away, you find yourself turning back to him, drawn by a force you can’t quite resist. You wish you could fight it - fight him, fight this magnetic pull that always seems to reel you back in - but your heart, traitorous as it is, weakens at his touch.

His eyes are steady, calm even, but the way his jaw tenses betrays the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. You can see the flicker of frustration in the tightness of his clenched teeth, but it’s not directed at you; it’s aimed at the mess that’s wedged its way between the two of you, threatening to tear apart everything you’ve built together. He’s not angry with you, not even a little, but you can see the weariness in his gaze - the weight of a thousand unspoken words hanging between you like a fog.

“Too bad, because I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We’re talking this out right now,” he says, his voice low but firm. He is not letting you stew in this mess, he hates the way your brain works, how it overthinks for hours, creating a mountain out of a molehill when he knows that one simple conversation can solve all problems.

He does fear that this might not be solved with a quick debate and kiss. This is going to take more than that.

You yank your arm away, swallowing the painful lump forming in your throat as you catch the brief flash of hurt in his eyes, like a knife twisting deeper. “Oh, sorry,” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your words, the sound bitter in your mouth. “What would you like to discuss first? The fact that you embarrassed me in front of my entire family and ruined my sister’s engagement party, or the fact that you punched my dad?”

Each word leaves your lips like a punch, each accusation sharper than the last. You watch as his calm exterior fractures, his eyes flickering with a cocktail of regret, anger, and something you can't quite place. The room feels like it’s closing in, the air heavy with the weight of things said and unsaid, as the silence between you sharpens, poised to snap at any moment.

Jongseong flinches, his expression flickering for a moment, the crack in his composure barely visible but unmistakable to you. He’s always been so unshakable, so infuriatingly composed during moments like this, and for a split second, you see the vulnerability beneath the mask - the guilt, the pain, the anger at himself. But he quickly steels himself, his gaze locking onto yours with a resolve that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think I wanted that to happen?” he shoots back, his voice low and rough, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping it steady. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, as if searching for some kind of understanding in the sea of your fury. “You think I planned to lose it like that? That I wanted to make a scene in front of your whole family?”

His words hang heavy in the air, every syllable a plea for you to see him, to see the mess of emotions churning inside him, but all you can feel is the sting of humiliation, the sharp edge of betrayal slicing through your chest. 

The scene replays in your mind like a broken film reel, each frame more painful than the last. Your father’s slurred words, the way Jongseong’s posture stiffened, the moment things spiralled from heated words to fists flying. You remember the sickening thud of your father hitting the ground, the horrified gasps, and the wave of whispers that rippled through the room. Your heart had dropped to the floor along with him, and in that split second, everything had shattered - your sister’s engagement, your mother’s fragile composure, and the image you’d built of the man you loved. You can still hear the murmurs, each one laced with judgment, each one a knife twisting deeper.

Your dad has always been a kind man at heart, but the bottle changes him into someone unrecognisable, a man who lets the worst parts of himself spill out. You remember the nights as a child, hiding in your room while your parents fought, your mother’s angry voice telling him to sober up or get out, how he would vomit over the living room floor and have no recollection of it in the morning. It’s those memories - the helplessness, the fear, the shame - that have kept you from ever picking up a drink. 

You vowed never to touch the stuff, never to let alcohol turn you into someone altered, and Jongseong understood that about you from the start after you trusted him with your memories. He made the promise to you that night, quitting the moment you told him how much it meant to you, swearing he would never touch another drop again. You didn’t ask him too, he simply did it because that’s how much he loves you.

You step back, folding your arms across your chest, a protective barrier against the storm brewing between you. “You punched my dad, Jongseong!” you shout, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. “You humiliated me in front of everyone. My mom was crying, my sister - God, do you even know what you did to her tonight? It was supposed to be her moment, and you ruined it!”

He steps forward, reaching out as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you take another step back, the distance between you widening. The urge to let him hold you, to fall into his arms and let the weight of tonight melt away is so strong it hurts, but you can’t. Not yet. Not when everything is still so raw, so jagged.

Jongseong breathes out and calms himself, “Listen to me,” he steps forward once again and he’s relieved that you don’t move. “I should not have acted like that, and that is what I am sorry for. But I will not let a man who has caused you so much pain talk about you like you are less than what you are. As long as my heart is beating, even when it stops, I will protect you from anything and anyone. I do not care if it’s family, or a stranger, or even yourself. You mean more to me than any other person on this planet and if I think for a second your heart is in danger, I am willing to do anything to protect it.”

His words hang in the air, raw and intense, vibrating with a passion that cuts through the tension like a blade. His gaze is locked onto yours, unwavering, filled with a fierce, almost desperate determination that pulls at something deep inside you. He’s closer now, just a step away, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with the cold ache of your own heartbreak. For a moment, all the noise in your head quiets, leaving only the thundering rhythm of your own heartbeat and the weight of his promise.

The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as the intensity of the moment settles around you. You’re torn between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the undeniable pull toward him, the man who’s both your solace and, tonight, your greatest source of pain. Jongseong’s words are like a salve, and though they don’t erase what happened, they start to soothe the jagged edges of your hurt. You can see the fear in his eyes - fear of losing you, of becoming the person you’ve always dreaded. There’s a vulnerability in him now, raw and unguarded, and it stirs something soft within you.

You take a deep breath, letting the tension drain from your shoulders, just a little. Your grip on the anger loosens, and the tight knot in your chest begins to unfurl, replaced by a slow, tentative warmth. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out, but you keep them at your sides, not quite ready for the full embrace of forgiveness but open to something gentler, something that feels like understanding.

“Jongseong,” you start, your voice quieter now, less a weapon and more a tentative bridge. “I know you meant well. I know you were trying to stand up for me. But you have to understand… that’s not what I need. I don’t need you to fight for me like that. I don’t need you to get angry on my behalf. I just need you to be here, to help me feel safe. Not like…” You trail off, your eyes dropping to the floor as you fight to find the words. “Not like this. We’ve been together for 5 years now, I told you my dad has his moments like this and as a family, we all chose to stick by him and support him, for mum’s sake. He is trying and sometimes he slips. Punching him and lashing out because he said some stupid shit he won’t remember in the morning isn’t the answer, it’s not what I want from you.”

Jongseong’s expression softens, the fierce determination in his eyes giving way to something deeper, more regretful. Honestly, he hates that you’re all so kind to a man who has caused you grief and misery your entire life, but you, your mum, and your sister are the kindest souls in the universe, it’s in your nature to see the good in people. Jongseong wishes your dad saw you all that way too, rather than taking advantage of the chances you give him.

He steps closer, his hand finally making contact with your skin and you instantly calm, the weight of his palm on your cheek grounding you. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he repeats, his voice breaking slightly, carrying the weight of his remorse. “I know what I did was stupid. I still don’t regret it,” he admits, his honesty ringing clear despite the regret in his tone. “I’d fight anyone who tried to hurt you, physically or emotionally. That’s how much you mean to me.”

You look up at him, the tears you’d been holding back now spilling freely. His confession doesn’t erase the pain, but it does offer a window into his heart - a heart that, despite its flaws and mistakes, beats fiercely in your defence. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between his protective instincts and the reality of his actions.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I know you’d do anything to protect me. But if we’re going to be a family - when we get married - you’ll be part of all this. You have to understand that. You have to respect my mum and dad’s needs.” Your words are a bridge between your love for him and your love for your family. “If you can’t do that, then I can’t let you be a part of their lives. I need you to know that.”

Your voice trembles slightly at the weight of what you’re saying, and the look in Jongseong’s eyes shifts. He doesn’t speak right away, but his silence is filled with understanding. You can see your words land like stones in his chest, the gravity of your family’s importance settling in. He knows how much they mean to you, and the unspoken warning lingers: if he messes this up again, there’s no way forward. The very thought of a future without you sends a ripple of fear through him. He’s never imagined that possibility because, to him, there is no option. He won’t let it happen.

His stomach churns at the idea of losing you, but his hope brightens as you say ‘when we get married’ rather than ‘if’. “I’ll do better, Y/N. I promise, I’ll support you in whatever way you need me to.” His shoulders drop slightly as if conceding to the truth you’ve laid bare between you. “You’re strong. I should’ve known that, and I’m sorry for not trusting that strength.” His remorse is palpable, and you can feel the weight lifting slightly from your chest, the anger and hurt that had clouded your mind beginning to dissipate.

The room seems to settle, the tension slowly dissolving into something calmer, something more manageable. You look up at the man you love, really look at him, and see how much he truly cares - how deeply he regrets what happened, not just for you, but for everyone. His eyes are sincere, remorse shining in their depths, and for the first time since the night began to spiral, you feel a sense of peace.

You exhale, your own apology forming on your lips as the fog of anger clears from your brain. “I’m sorry too. For lashing out, for hitting you with the door…it was childish. I shouldn’t have acted like that.” A flush of embarrassment heats your face, the shame of your actions making you feel small.

Jongseong reaches up to rub his jaw, faking a wince, and thankfully, the playful gesture lightens the air between you. “Nothing a kiss can’t sort out,” he teases, his lips quirking into a small, pouting smile, trying to bring a bit of levity to the conversation.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Let’s just make sure we don’t cause a fiasco at any more engagement parties, okay?”

Jongseong chuckles slightly, his grin widening as he tilts his head. “What if it’s at ours? Do I get groom rights to cause chaos then?”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you play along. “Well, you’d have to propose first for me even to consider that.”

Jongseong’s eyes twinkle with mischief and that same love that has always projected through from his soul as he leans in, lowering his voice to a playful whisper. “Just you wait, baby.”

_____

The heavy wooden doors of the chapel creak open, and Jongseong straightens his suit jacket, his fingers smoothing over the fabric of the black suit you had so carefully picked out for him. It’s tailored to perfection, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a sleek fit at his waist. The crisp white shirt underneath feels a little too tight around his collar, not because of the fit, but because of the sheer enormity of the day. He inhales deeply, gathering all the breath he knows he’ll lose the second he begins his walk down the aisle.

At 34 years old, he’s finally getting married, and it still feels surreal. Even this morning, as he stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting his tie, it all felt more nerve-wracking than he could have imagined. His hands trembled slightly, not with doubt but with anticipation. It isn’t cold feet - far from it. Marrying you is the most certain thing he’s ever felt. In fact, the only thing weighing on his chest isn’t whether or not he’s making the right choice - it’s the fact that, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not by his side.

Last night, the night before your wedding, was the longest you’ve spent apart in years. You’d stayed with your sister, following the superstition that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the ceremony, and while it seemed trivial at first, Jongseong missed you more deeply than he ever thought possible. Since that party so many years ago, he’s spent every moment he could by your side, and now, after sharing a home, building a life together, the thought of you not being there in his bed last night left an ache he hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t the marriage that was causing him anxiety. He couldn’t wait to marry you—to say the vows, to see you in your wedding dress, to call you his wife. No, what had his stomach in knots was the thought of walking down the aisle with all eyes on him. The idea of being the centre of attention, of every gaze following his every move, from the ball of his foot to the tip of his toes, made his skin crawl. Even as a kid, Jongseong hated being the focus of a room. 

You’d always been the one to handle social situations with grace, navigating crowds, talking to guests, and subtly keeping the two of you out of the spotlight when he needed it. God, he wished you were here right now to hold his hand and whisper something to ease his nerves.

But of course, you weren’t. Tradition had stolen you away from him this morning, and now, he had to face this moment alone. The chapel, though filled with friends and family, felt overwhelmingly empty without you by his side. His heart pounded harder in his chest as the reality of the moment hit him.

Suddenly, the soft notes of music swelled from the organ, pulling him from his thoughts. It was the cue the wedding planner had told him about, the signal that it was time for him to make his way down the aisle. He stood still for a moment, nodding to himself as he acknowledged what lay ahead. The attention, the eyes on him, the anxious fluttering in his chest - it would all be worth it the second he saw you at the other end of the aisle.

With a deep breath, he steps forward. His polished black shoes make a quiet click against the stone floor of the chapel, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. Jongseong’s gaze flickers up briefly, catching sight of familiar faces in the pews. His mother, sitting proudly near the front, offers him a warm, reassuring smile. He tries to return it, but it feels stiff, nerves still crawling beneath his skin. His father gives him a subtle nod of encouragement, and Jongseong straightens his back, feeling the weight of their support behind him.

As he continues to walk, the scent of lilies and roses, the same ones you picked out together for the ceremony, fills the air. Sunlight streams in through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant colours across the chapel floor - deep reds, purples, and golds dancing around his feet like blessings from above. He hears the faint rustle of fabric as guests turn their heads to watch him, but he keeps his eyes forward, focusing on the path ahead.

His palms are sweaty, and his pulse quickens with each step. The aisle feels impossibly long, like a steep hill with a drinking fountain waiting at the top. The rows of guests stretch on and on. Jongseong fights the urge to tug at his collar, to loosen the tie just a bit, but he knows it won’t help. Nothing can calm the storm inside him except you.

But as he nears the front, something shifts. The nervousness, the anxiety of being under watchful eyes, begins to ebb away, replaced by something else. Anticipation. Because just after this walk, after these few moments of discomfort, comes you. The love of his life. His future.

He greets your family with fondness and love as he reaches the end. Each one has become integral to his life, the definition of his second family. Jongseong's smile softens as he approaches them and offering a slight bow in respect. 

His future mother-in-law is sitting to the side, her eyes filled with warmth. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, fingers intertwined, though her expression is calm and composed. She has always been a strong presence in your life, and he feels the same quiet strength radiating from her now. She nods to him, her lips curving into a gentle smile that puts him a little more at ease. There’s a silent understanding between them - one forged through shared moments, family dinners, and heart-to-heart talks that had transformed Jongseong from a visitor into a son.

Standing next to your other bridesmaids is your sister, fidgeting slightly with the lace of her dress, her excitement palpable as the number one supporter in this relationship. She beams up at him, her eyes twinkling. She’s always been the one to bring lightness into any room, to ease tension with a well-timed joke or a teasing comment, and seeing her now, vibrant and full of life, reminds him of all the times she’d teased him for being so nervous about today. Her laughter and encouragement had helped him through many anxious moments, and her unspoken support right now is a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed.

They are his family now, just as much as his own parents sitting a few rows behind, and knowing that fills him with a sense of belonging.

Jongseong takes his position at the altar, trying to shake off the nervous tension building inside him. His friend Sunghoon is already there, waiting with a grin that’s equal parts mischief and pride. Sunghoon, who had been there for every milestone in his relationship, claps him on the back. It's surreal for both of them; after all, it was Sunghoon who dragged Jongseong to that dreadful party where you first met. Sunghoon had refused to let Jongseong skip it, even though Jongseong had dramatically declared he’d rather run naked through a field of nettles than attend. Now, Sunghoon stands by his side, proud of the role he played in bringing you both together and wearing the title of groomsman like a badge of honour.

"You look like you're about to get married," Sunghoon teases, laughter dancing in his voice. From where he stands, Sunghoon sees his best friend transformed. Jongseong’s usual cool demeanour is present, but there’s a deeper layer today - one of anticipation and raw emotion. His usually steady hands are clenched slightly, his jaw a little tighter than usual. Sunghoon notices all these small signs, but underneath them, he can see that Jongseong is just waiting to call you his wife, the need to call you Mrs. Park is what’s making him shake.

"Yeah? Too overdressed?" Jongseong jokes, trying to mask the nerves that refuse to leave him completely.

"Just a little," Sunghoon nudges him playfully. His smile fades into something more sincere. "You ready?"

Jongseong takes a deep breath before responding, his voice quiet but confident. "I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready in my life." He ignores the whispers and murmurs from the crowd, sounds he can't quite decipher. Will they be bad? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop his brain from trying to twist them into something else. What if they all think you’re settling? Still, he pushes it all aside, focusing on the one thing that matters: you.

He is so excited to see you. You had kept everything a secret - your dress, your hair, even down to your nails. He had tried every trick in the book to get even the smallest detail out of you, from sweet persuasion to playful pestering. He’d casually ask while you were busy with wedding plans or playfully guess what colour you might be wearing, trying to gauge your reaction. Each time, though, you would just smile coyly and shake your head, refusing to give anything away. Jongseong had groaned in mock frustration, but deep down, he knew it would be worth the wait. He was absolutely certain you’d look breathtaking, no matter what. You always look like the most beautiful person in the world, like the earth around you, only blooms to keep up with your beauty.

Sunghoon grins, breaking Jongseong’s thoughts. "I saw her earlier, y'know. Tried to talk her out of making a massive mistake." His tone is light, there’s no mistaking the fondness in his eyes. Sunghoon had actually visited you before the ceremony, not to convince you of anything, but to tell you how happy he was that you had come into Jongseong’s life. He had joked that he wanted a child named after him, but beneath the teasing, he was sincere. He told you how lucky he felt to witness true love up close, to see two people so in sync that it was like watching a real-life fairytale.

For Sunghoon, it was like one of the bedtime stories he read to his daughter, tales of love that transcended everything else. Sometimes, when he read those stories, his mind would drift to you and Jongseong, imagining the two of you as the characters destined for each other. Even his wife is amazed by the connection you share - two people who fit together so effortlessly that it was hard to believe. Sunghoon and his wife love one another so much, but they can recognise that you and Jongseong’s love is once in a lifetime, and they learn so much from you.

"Yeah? How did she look?" Jongseong asks, his voice tinged with hope. "Nervous? Cold feet? She’s definitely coming, right?"

Sunghoon throws his head back, laughing loudly, the sound echoing through the quiet church, eliciting some confusion on the faces of the guests. "She looks way out of your league, but no, she’s not nervous. She’s ready. In fact, she told me to let you know that you should cry when you see her. If you don’t, she’s marrying Jake instead."

Right on cue, Jake, the other groomsman, pops his head over Sunghoon’s shoulder with a wide grin. "And I will marry her in a minute, so you better get those waterworks going."

Jongseong can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. But he knows you’re serious about the tears. Your man is not one for crying, he rarely feels the need for tears, but he has a sneaking suspicion you’re going to get your wish.

The music starts, and Jongseong stiffens, his heart slamming against his ribs as if it’s trying to escape his chest and rush down the aisle to meet you. It’s only been a night since he last saw you, but to him, it feels like an eternity. The shared bed had felt too big, too cold without you beside him, and in that quiet space, he realized just how much you completed him. He missed you, and though it might seem dramatic, the longing reminded him that this wasn’t just about nerves. It was about the indescribable excitement of committing himself to you, completely and forever.

He had wanted to do this years ago, perhaps two years into your relationship rather than waiting twelve. But you had been the practical one, insisting that you both build your careers, settle into life without the added pressure of a wedding. He hadn’t minded too much; after all, what was a few more years when you had forever to spend together?

As the soft strains of music fill the chapel, Jongseong freezes. It’s an original piece - the one he had composed for you way back in the beginning of your relationship. The ballad, a quiet testament to the love he held for you even then, was something he’d never expected to hear today. Each note flows seamlessly into the next, blending together like the way his love for you has always been: fluid, effortless, natural. 

For him, loving you has never been complicated. It’s as though the melody was written not just with the keys of the piano, but with the strings of his heart. The tears, which you had so eagerly asked for, begin to gather at the corners of his eyes.

Then he sees you.

You appear at the end of the aisle, and his breath catches. Words escape him because they’re not enough to describe how radiant you are. The light from the stained-glass windows dances across your white gown, making you look as if you’re wrapped in sunlight itself. The lace of your dress hugs your figure delicately, each intricate detail shimmering as if woven from the stars. Your veil, soft as gossamer, floats behind you, catching the gentle breeze that filters through the open chapel doors. Your eyes, bright and full of love, meet his, and in that moment, Jongseong knows - if ever there was perfection, it is you.

Your beauty is beyond anything he could have imagined, like a dream come to life. You are the embodiment of every love song, every poem, every whispered promise. As you walk toward him, it feels like time slows, like the world pauses to let him savour every second, every step. You are grace personified, and all he can think is how lucky he is that this is real, that you are his.

Beside you, your father walks proudly with his arm linked through yours. His face shines with pride, his entire being glowing with joy. Jongseong feels a surge of pride for him as well. Their relationship had a rocky start, but now, four years into his sobriety, your father has become someone Jongseong admires deeply. 

The way you and your family never gave up on him taught Jongseong valuable lessons in patience, compassion, and what it means to truly love someone through their struggles. Watching your father today, standing tall and proud, Jongseong knows that all the hardships were worth it. He understands now that loving someone through their demons isn’t easy, but it’s something only the most special people can do - and you are one of those people. You have made Jongseong a better man, and he is and always will be eternally grateful for that.

When you and your father finally reach the end of the aisle, Jongseong’s breath hitches as he sees you up close for the first time. He’s lost for words, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The tears that had gathered in his eyes finally spill over as he gazes at you. Your smile is so bright, most likely happy at his reaction, and he suddenly feels like his heart is trying to burst through his chest just to meld with your own; he is so privileged you hold his heart this way.

“You look…” he starts, but the words catch in his throat.

“Like I’m ready to be your wife?” you finish with a teasing smile, your voice warm and steady.

Jongseong shakes his head, his voice cracking with emotion. “Like my everything.” 

The way he says this, so pure and genuine, your smile falters just ever so slightly, your face now wanting to express an earnest love, the kind of expression you only look at the love of your life with.

Your father, watching the exchange, beams with satisfaction. There’s a tenderness in his expression as he shakes Jongseong’s hand, pulling him into a firm embrace. “I know you’ll look after one another,” your father whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud to call you my son.”

The words settle deep within Jongseong’s heart, and when your father steps back to take his seat, the ceremony begins.

As the officiant begins speaking, his voice soft but clear, Jongseong can’t help but marvel at how your hand fits so perfectly in his, your fingers warm and familiar, yet somehow new, in this moment. Every word that spills from the officiant’s lips feels like background noise; all Jongseong can focus on is you. The way you stand before him, radiating beauty and calm, is enough to make his heart swell to the point of aching. You squeeze his hand softly, pulling him back to the present. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in response, a silent message of reassurance, of love. It feels as if the two of you are existing in your own world, tethered together by this secret moment amid the hum of the ceremony.

Even in a room full of people, he will always only see you.

He glances at your face, catching a fleeting look of emotion dancing in your eyes, and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms right there. You’re holding it together so well, but he knows you too well. The slight tension in your grip, the way your breath catches every now and then - it all betrays the storm of emotion beneath the surface. And it matches his own.

When the officiant calls for the vows, Jongseong inhales sharply. This is the part he’s been waiting for, and yet, the part that terrifies him the most. Not because he’s unsure, but because there’s so much to say, so much love to express, and he hopes he can convey it all with the right words.

He turns to face you, both of your hands now clasped together. He can feel the slight tremble in your fingers, mirroring the nervous excitement coursing through his own veins. The vows - this is where he gets to tell you, in front of everyone you both love, just how much you mean to him. But even as he opens his mouth, his heart beats in time with yours, each pulse echoing a silent promise of forever.

Clearing his throat, he pulls the paper from his suit pocket, calming himself.

“Y/N. I should start by saying how in love I am with you. I think it’s pretty obvious, I don’t think my heart is even mine anymore with the way you hold it. I remember the first time I ever saw you, so bored and begging to be saved from that god awful party. But it’s funny if you think about it because I didn’t save you from anything at all, you saved me - in more ways than I could ever thank you for.

You are my heart, soul, courage, fear, wonder, and love. I am you and you are me. ‘Love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.’ I remember hearing that quote and never fully knowing what it meant. But since we are two people sewn together with the thread of fate, I began to understand that for me to be happy, to live in this world without regret or misery, I need to make sure I love you with every fibre of my being, to make sure you’re happy, safe, and cherished until the very end.

So today, my love, I vow to love you exactly as you are. I vow to protect you, not just from the world, but from any doubts or fears that ever try to steal your light. I vow to be the one who stands by your side when life feels too heavy, to hold you when you need comfort, and to celebrate with you when life brings you joy. I promise to love you on the days when life feels effortless, but more importantly, I vow to love you even harder on the days when it’s not.

I promise to cherish the smallest moments, the quiet mornings and the late-night talks, the laughter and even the silences that only we understand. You have made me a better man, and every day with you feels like a gift I don’t deserve, but one I will never take for granted.

I vow to never let a day go by without reminding you just how much you mean to me. To wake up every morning and choose you, choose us, over and over again. I vow to be your protector, your partner, your best friend, and your greatest supporter. Whatever life brings our way - whether it’s joy or challenges - I will be there, by your side, holding your hand through it all.

And above all, I vow to love you endlessly, fiercely, and without reservation, because you are my heart’s home, and there is nowhere else I would rather be.

Today, tomorrow, and every day after, I am yours. Forever.”

As Jongseong finishes his vows, his voice steady yet laced with emotion, you feel tears slip down your cheek. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, the overwhelming love in his words makes it impossible to hold back. You mourn the people in the pews who don’t get to experience Jongseong’s love because it is unfiltered and pure, the love people dream of and never have. He watches you closely, his eyes softening the moment he notices your tears.

Without missing a beat, Jongseong reaches up, gently brushing away the tear with the pad of his thumb, his touch as tender as his words. His fingers linger for a moment, his smile growing fond and warm as if he’s silently telling you that it’s okay, that he’s here, and that he understands how deeply his words have touched you.

Jongseong leans in just slightly, close enough for you to hear him whisper, "Maybe I should have vowed to never make you cry." His playful tone does little to hide the way his own eyes glisten, the deep emotions brimming just below the surface. 

Your lips tremble into a small smile through your tears, feeling both overwhelmed and reassured by the way he’s looking at you - as though you are the most precious thing in his world. And in that moment, you realise, you don’t have to hold anything back. You’re standing here, with the man who will cherish you for the rest of his life, and there is no need for composure, no need to hide the tears or the love that pours from you so naturally.

The officiant gives a gentle nod, signalling it’s time for your vows, but Jongseong keeps his gaze on you, his hand still cradling your cheek as if to give you strength. His smile never falters, and in his eyes, you see nothing but encouragement, affection, and a quiet promise that he will be right here, every step of the way.

You take a deep breath, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold your vows, and the room quiets in anticipation. You glance at Jongseong, your heart swelling as you realize you’re about to marry the love of your life, the man who has been your everything for so long.

“I kinda wish I went first now,” you laugh softly, stepping back to wipe your tears, earning a round of laughter from the guests. Even Jongseong chuckles, his eyes full of warmth, and the pressure lifts just a little as you prepare to speak from the heart.

“I really can’t believe I’m standing here today, two seconds away from becoming Mrs. Park. Though, let’s be real - I’m never going to be the best Mrs. Park. That title is clearly reserved for your mum,” you say with a playful smile, looking over at Jongseong’s mother. She places a hand on her heart, her eyes shining with affection, and nods back at you.

“Jongseong, standing here before you feels like a dream I’ve had my entire life. It feels like everything in the universe has led me to this moment, to you. You are my heart, my home, and the one person who makes the world feel safe and beautiful just by being in it.

People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. And you have changed my life Jongseong, so beautifully so. I am more confident, resilient, and passionate about my life because I have you beside me. 

There is so much love inside my body that is only reserved for you. Love is the reason we all continue to live, even through tragedies and heartbreak, we seek love in all of those moments because it’s worth living for. Jongseong, you make life worth living.

I vow to honor you with every beat of my heart, to cherish you with every breath I take. I promise to stand by you in every season, to be your unwavering support when the world feels heavy, and your biggest cheerleader when you need encouragement. I will hold your hand through the trials and celebrate with you in the triumphs, always knowing that together, we can face anything.

I vow to love you as deeply as the ocean, to be your steadfast anchor when the waves of life try to pull us apart. I promise to nurture our dreams, to build a life filled with wonder and discovery, and to always remember the simple, profound joy of being together.

You have taught me that love is not just a feeling, but a practice - one that grows and deepens every day. It is in the way we laugh together, the way we support each other’s dreams and the quiet moments when we simply hold each other close. I promise to practise this love with you, to make it a living, breathing part of our lives, one that we can carry into the afterlife and know that even if our bodies are apart through death, our hearts are always linked.

I want to be a wife who deserves you, one who never takes you for granted and gives you back tenfold the love you have for me, and God knows your love is vaster than anything else in this world. You are my heart’s truest song, and I vow to be the harmony to your melody, the gentle refrain that sings of our forever. I promise to be patient, to listen, to understand, and to always come back to you with an open heart.

Jongseong, today and every day, I choose you, not just as my partner but as my greatest adventure, my greatest joy, and my deepest love. Together, we will write a story that is uniquely ours, filled with love, laughter, and a bond that only grows stronger with time. You are my most cherished muse, wholly and completely.”

As you finish your vows, your voice quivers with emotion, and the room seems to collectively hold its breath. Jongseong’s eyes glisten with tears of joy and admiration as he kisses your forehead, his touch is tender and reassuring, and he smiles at you with a look of pure, unadulterated love. The room sighs with appreciation, moved by the heartfelt exchange.

The officiant, his own eyes misty with the beauty of the moment, clears his throat to address the couple. “Having heard these vows of unwavering love and commitment, it is now time for us to proceed with the ring exchange.”

Jongseong and you gaze deeply into one anothers eyes, the ceremony reaching its most poignant moment. The officiant gestures to Sunghoon, who steps forward, holding the rings with great reverence. With a knowing smile, he hands the rings to Jongseong, who looks at them with a sense of awe. This is it. 

“Jongseong,” the officiant prompts, “please place the ring on Y/N’s finger and repeat after me.”

Jongseong’s voice is steady but filled with emotion as he recites the traditional vows, “With this ring, I thee wed. It is a symbol of my love and devotion, a promise to cherish and honour you all the days of my life.”

As Jongseong slides the ring onto your finger, you feel its weight - a tangible representation of his love and commitment. You repeat the same words to him, your hands slightly trembling with the depth of your feelings.

The officiant smiles warmly at the couple. “May these rings be a constant reminder of the love you share and the vows you have made to each other.”

With the rings exchanged, the officiant addresses the gathering. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Jongseong leans in, his gaze locked with yours, and the world seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. His lips touch yours with a tenderness that is both electrifying and soothing. The kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of affection, but it quickly deepens into something more passionate and heartfelt. His hands cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing along your cheekbones, anchoring you both in the intimacy of the moment.

The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and as the kiss unfolds, it feels like a dance - delicate and full of emotion. Jongseong’s lips move with a tender urgency, conveying the depth of his love and the gravity of the vows you’ve just exchanged. There’s gentle pressure, a shared promise in the way his mouth moves against yours as if he’s pouring all the love he holds into this one kiss.

The chapel’s applause and cheers seem distant, fading into the background as you’re wrapped in the warmth and sweetness of Jongseong’s kiss. His fingers gently trace the curve of your jaw, adding a touch of reverence to the moment. You can feel the thrum of emotion in every touch, every caress, as if he’s imprinting this perfect moment onto both of your souls.

As you slowly pull away, Jongseong’s eyes are filled with a mixture of joy and reverence. The intensity of the kiss has left both of you breathless, your hearts racing with the shared exhilaration of this new chapter. His gaze holds yours with profound happiness, and you see in his eyes the same depth of feeling that you’ve always known was there.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Jongseong confesses with more earnestness than you have ever seen in one human being. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to swear in church,” you giggle, pecking his lips to rid him of the sin.

But he’s unbothered, his emotions outweighing etiquette. He shrugs and takes your hand in his. “I think the big man upstairs will forgive me this one time.”

As Jongseong takes your hand, the two of you walk down the aisle together, the applause from your friends and family echoing through the chapel, though it now feels like nothing more than a distant murmur. His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, and every glance he steals your way is filled with an overwhelming sense of love and pride. The weight of the moment lingers sweetly between you, as if you’re both walking on air.

Once outside, the soft sunlight bathes you both in warmth, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. This is everything you could want. 

Jongseong, ever the gentleman, jogs to reach the car first, dramatically pulling the door open with a playful grin. “After you, Mrs. Park,” he gestures with a flourish, eyes turning into sweet crescent moons as the light beams from him.

You raise an eyebrow and chuckle at his antics. “You’re enjoying this, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” he winks, guiding you gently into the car. “I love how it sounds on my tongue,” he leans down until he’s level with your face, “Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park.” 

He will repeat it until he gets bored of hearing it, which will be never and a day.

As you settle into the seat, he quickly slips in beside you, and before the door is even shut, his lips are on yours again, more urgent this time. The kiss deepens with a fervour that wasn’t quite there at the altar, and you can feel his restraint fading. He pulls you closer, his hand resting possessively on your waist, as if he’s making up for all the time he spent holding back earlier - he would have gone all in but something about tonguing you down in front of a priest and about 30 of your closest friends and family didn’t sit well with him. His lips move hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last.

You let out a soft moan in response to the sudden heat, and Jongseong smirks into your mouth, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, but not before brushing his lips teasingly against yours once more. The car starts moving, but his focus is entirely on you. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his breath coming in shallow, heated bursts. The playful glint in his eyes returns as he taps the driver on the shoulder.

“Could you take us back to the hotel for a quick pit stop?” His tone is mischievous, eyes twinkling with intent.

You blink in surprise, your thoughts returning briefly to the chaos of the wedding day schedule. “But…we need to get our certificate signed, take pictures…the reception?” You eye him curiously, though a part of you already knows where this is going.

Jongseong just shrugs, utterly unbothered. “That can wait a minute. Do you have any idea how hard it was not having you last night?”

His words send a ripple of heat down your spine, and despite your initial protest, a smile tugs at your lips. “It was one night, Jongseong,” you laugh incredulously, though you know deep down you shared his struggle. There’s a certain magnetic pull between you that’s only intensified since the moment you exchanged vows.

But before you can say anything else, his mouth is on your neck, his lips trailing heated, deliberate kisses along your skin. He finds that spot just beneath your ear, the one that always leaves you breathless, and you melt into him instantly. Your earlier concerns about timing and schedules vanish, replaced by the undeniable, almost primal need for him.

Every touch, every kiss, is fuelled by the weight of the day’s emotions, and soon you’re lost in him entirely, giving in to the desire that’s been simmering between you. From love to passion, your relationship flows seamlessly between them.

Jongseong’s kisses are searing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and any remaining thoughts of the day’s schedule fade into nothing. His hands grip your waist firmly, pulling you closer as you feel the heat building between you both. The car ride blurs by in a haze of stolen kisses and whispered promises, the tension growing heavier with every touch.

Before long, the car pulls up outside the hotel, and Jongseong barely waits for the driver to open the door before he helps you out, his grip on your hand tight, his thumb brushing your wedding ring with fondness despite the heat pumping through him. 

The hotel lobby is a blur, neither of you paying attention to anything around you as he tugs you towards the lift. Once inside, his mouth is back on yours, pushing you gently against the wall, his body pressed up close, a low groan escaping his lips.

The moment the doors open to your floor, you’re both stumbling down the hallway, hands roaming, clothes being tugged at impatiently. The urgency is palpable, as if every second spent not touching is a second wasted. By the time you reach the room, Jongseong fumbles with the key card, barely able to keep his lips from yours as he finally pushes the door open.

You stumble inside together, the sheer size of your wedding dress catching between you as you attempt to navigate the small space. Jongseong laughs softly into the kiss, but neither of you cares as you pull at each other, the weight of your emotions taking over. His hands work swiftly to find the buttons and zippers hidden beneath layers of fabric, and you can feel his need for you in every motion.

Your lips part briefly, just long enough for you to gasp out between kisses, “We need to be quick, baby.” Your breath is ragged, your voice barely above a whisper, but the desperation in your tone mirrors his own.

“Quick…right,” he mutters, though there’s no sign of him slowing down. His hands are everywhere - your waist, your back, your hips - gripping and pulling as though he can’t get enough of you. He presses you up against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours again, deeper and more urgent than before.

As you pull him closer, the fabric of your dress rustles and tangles between you, but it only adds to the delicious mess of the moment. His hands slip beneath the lace, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs, making you gasp. He smiles against your lips, that same playful glint in his eyes, but his kiss is nothing but intense.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of fumbling, Jongseong’s fingers work the last clasp on the back of your dress. The fabric slips from your shoulders, and the sensation of it gliding down your body makes you shiver. He steps back just slightly, allowing the gown to pool at your feet, his eyes following every movement with hungry intensity.

The moment he sees you standing there in nothing but the white lace lingerie beneath, his breath catches, and a flicker of pure desire ignites in his gaze. His hands, which had been so impatient before, now pause in reverence, as though he’s taking in every detail, committing this moment to memory.

“God,” he breathes out, voice thick with awe and hunger. “You’re fucking perfect, have i ever told you that?”

His words send a wave of warmth through you, your heart racing even faster under the weight of his gaze. Before you can respond, his hands find your waist again, pulling you to him. His lips crash against yours, the intensity of the kiss somehow even more fervent now that there’s nothing between you but the thin lace of your thong and his trousers.

His fingers trace the delicate patterns of the fabric, teasingly brushing over your skin in a way that makes your pulse quicken. His lips move from your mouth, trailing down your jawline to your collarbone, then lower, each kiss deliberate, driving you wild with anticipation.

“Jongseong…” You gasp, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss. The urgency from before still lingers, but there’s something deeper now - a need not just for passion, but for connection. The feeling that you’ve finally, truly become his in every way.

He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the way your body responds to him, his hands sliding over the lace as though he can barely restrain himself, feeling how wet you are for him. His lips find yours again, but this time slower, deeper, as if he’s taking everything in, the moment, you, all of it.

“Quick, right?” he teases softly between kisses, but there’s now no rush in his movements now. The two of you are lost in each other, and any notion of time or urgency is forgotten as he continues to explore you, making every second feel endless and yet not nearly enough.

Jongseong’s teasing words hang in the air, and you can’t help but smile against his lips, your heart pounding in your chest. The fire between you is still blazing, but there’s a tenderness now, an unspoken understanding that this moment is more than just physical. It’s the culmination of everything - every shared glance, every whispered promise, every touch over the past 12 years.

“I’m gonna fuck you, fill you up and have you walk around the reception with my cum inside of you,” he breathes out, his hands busy undoing his dress trousers, fingers fumbling before pushing them down, the fabric pooling to his ankles, quickly making friends with your wedding dress.

The mere thought if it has you deperate, and instantly, you’re jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist, your heat craving his touch.  Jongseong lets out a low groan as you cling to him, the weight of you pressing against his cock driving his need to the surface. He catches your lips again, this time more fervently, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he practically traps you between the wall and his chest. The coolness of the hotel wall contrasts with the heat of his body, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your lips, his voice a mix of frustration and affection. His breath is heavy, matching the rapid beat of your heart. He needs to be inside of you, and he needs it now.

As he adjusts his grip on you, his hand slides between your thighs as he pushes your thong to the side, lining himself up. The anticipation builds, and you moan softly, arching against him, silently pleading for more, the tip of his cock poking at where you need him most. He pauses for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Ready?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, as if daring you to answer.

You don’t need to say a word - your body tells him everything he needs to know, but your nod anyway. “Yes, fuck, Jongseong please.”

With one smooth motion, Jongseong thrusts into you, filling you completely. A gasp escapes your lips as your bodies meld together, the intensity of the moment sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. He groans deeply, his breath ragged as he begins to move, each thrust deliberate and powerful, driving deeper into you.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your core, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside you. The curve of his cock drags down your tight walls, each bump of your inner core being kissed by his bell, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His pace quickens, the need between you intensifying. Your nails dig into his back, holding him closer as he drives into you harder, deeper, the friction and heat building to an unbearable crescendo. The way he looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, filled with raw need and adoration, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him in this moment.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes out, his voice hoarse with desire. His hips snap against yours with more urgency, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he presses his forehead to yours. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Give you all of me just like you deserve.”

You can’t hold back the moans that slip from your lips, your body trembling as you near the edge. Every thrust, every touch, every breath sends you spiraling closer to that sweet release, and you can feel it building, tightening in your core.

“Can’t wait to start a family with you, baby,” he confesses, the sentence thoughtful yet primal, “What if I got you pregnant right now, huh? Would Mrs. Park like that?”

“Fuck, yes!” you mewl out, the way he says your new government name along with the promise of a family is all too overwhelming as it mixes in with the utter lust your body feels. You need him to fill you to the brim, to have each inch of him buried to the hilt of you while he pumps his seed deep into your womb. “I need you… so close…” you whisper, your voice trembling with desperation.

Jongseong's thrusts become more urgent, each one deeper and harder than the last. Your bodies move in perfect rhythm, his name slipping from your lips in a desperate moan as pleasure coils tighter within you. The world fades away, your senses filled only by the heat of his skin against yours, the heady scent of desire, and the raw intensity in his gaze as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mrs. Park,” he whispers, “So pretty, and all mine.” His tone is loving if through gritted teeth, parts of the syllables coated in the desire he has running through his veins.

“I love you, Jongseong,” you whisper, kissing all over his face as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink of euphoria.

He chuckles softly, eyes almost filling with tears. “I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.” And without another word, he kisses you with so much passion and devotion that if you weren’t already breathless from the raw fucking he is giving you, you definetly would have felt the air escape your lungs.

The pressure inside you builds relentlessly, your muscles clenching around him, drawing him deeper. He groans, a low, guttural sound that sends a thrill of electricity through your veins. His lips trail back up your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake before they crash into yours again, his kiss filled with hunger and need, as if he can’t get enough of you.

"You're perfect," he breathes against your lips, his voice strained, thick with lust. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder onto him with every thrust, making you feel every inch of him. “Ready to be a mum, baby? Ready for me to fuck you senseless each and every day and use the excuse of trying?”

“Fuck yeah, Jongseong, I can’t wait.” The grin on your face contorts with pure pleasure as he takes your words and runs wild with them, making good on his promise. If it isn’t today, or tomorrow, or even in the next year, he will make sure he keeps fucking you, until both of you create something wonderful, until you create a family that’s bigger than what you both are now.

You cling to him, nails scraping against his back as waves of pleasure crash over you with every buck of his hips. His pace is relentless now, hips slamming into yours with raw, unfiltered passion, each motion pushing you closer to the edge. Your vision blurs, the world spinning as the sensation intensifies, your body trembling uncontrollably.

You can feel him pulsing inside you, the tension in his body telling you that he's close, just as you are. His name is the only word you can form as your release builds to a peak, the pressure inside you unbearable. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on you, completely focused as he watches you fall apart in his arms.

"Cum for me," he growls, his voice a rough command that sends a shudder through you.

At his words, the coil inside you snaps, and you let go completely. A cry escapes your lips as the orgasm tears through you, your entire body trembling violently as pleasure floods your senses. You grip onto him like he's the only thing grounding you, your nails digging into his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy courses through you.

Jongseong’s own release follows soon after, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside you, his groans of pleasure vibrating against your neck. His movements slow but remain deep, deliberate, prolonging the sensation as both of you ride the aftershocks of pleasure. You can feel his warmth spreading through you, just as he promised, and the thought of it sends a final tremor through your body.

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of the moment still clinging to you as Jongseong’s weight presses you gently against the wall. His chest heaves against yours, and the only sound is the ragged rhythm of your breaths mingling in the charged air.

Slowly, Jongseong pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers trace softly over your flushed skin, and the intensity in his eyes gives way to a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in to kiss you again, this time with a slow, sweet tenderness that deepens the connection between you.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice soft and reverent as his thumb caresses the curve of your jaw.

You nod, breathless and still tingling from the afterglow. “More than okay,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Good,” he chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. He sets you down gently, supporting you until your legs regain their strength. “We have a reception to get back to, after all.”

With a deft, almost intimate touch, his fingers slip between your sensitive folds, gathering his essence before gently pushing it back inside you. His gaze remains locked with yours, a mix of possessiveness and adortation. “Keep that in there until I can steal you away again and give you more.”

Giggling, you nod, biting your lip. You really cannot wait for the day you have this man’s child.

_____

Jongseong bursts into the hospital, his breath ragged, his vision blurred by the panic that clogs his thoughts. The fluorescent lights overhead feel too bright, their sterile, clinical glow only exacerbating the coldness gripping his chest. A sharp antiseptic smell wafts through the air, mingling with the faint hum of machinery and the occasional cough from sick patients in the waiting area. The beeps of heart monitors and distant murmurs of conversation all blur into a single cacophony, lost on him as his sole focus narrows to one desperate objective: finding you.

His eyes dart wildly across the expanse of the lobby, scanning for some kind of guidance. There, tucked away in the corner, is an oak reception desk. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a sympathetic smile, taps away at her computer, unaware of the storm about to come her way. Jongseong rushes over, his heart pounding, each thud reverberating in his ears like the ticking of a countdown he can’t afford to lose.

"Excuse me, do you know where the maternity ward is?" The words tumble from his mouth in a breathless jumble, barely coherent even to his own ears. It doesn’t sound like him - this frantic, uncollected version of himself - but he doesn’t care. He can’t afford to. His gaze flickers briefly to the woman behind the desk as she begins to reply, her voice gentle, almost calming, in stark contrast to the chaos raging inside him.

"You're in the wrong section, sweetheart. Maternity is ward 48, it's down the ha-"

But he doesn't wait for her to finish. Her words are cut short as he spins on his heel, legs propelling him down the long, seemingly endless corridor. His heart is racing, but not from the sprint. It’s the weight of fear, the gnawing dread that tightens his chest and churns his stomach. He might miss it. He might miss you. Miss being by your side when you need him the most. The thought alone makes his insides twist, as though someone had reached into his ribcage and clenched his heart in a fist.

This is supposed to be a joyous moment - the birth of his son, your son, the culmination of months of waiting, preparing, and dreaming. But right now, all he feels is the gnawing anxiety that he won’t make it in time. That he won’t be there to hold your hand, to look into your eyes and tell you that you’re doing great, that everything will be okay. 

His mind races back to when he received the call from your sister, the news hitting him like a freight train. He had been at work, neck-deep in paperwork and deadlines. He had barely believed it at first. You weren’t due for another two weeks; surely, this was a mistake. Yet, here you were, two floors above him, about to deliver his precious son into the world.

But none of that matters now. What matters is getting to you, being by your side before it’s too late. 

His legs burn as he pushes himself forward, following the overhead signs that guide him toward ward 48. The corridors stretch out before him like a maze, every turn only amplifying the desperation pooling in his chest. The sharp click of his shoes echoes loudly in the silence, but all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, the frantic beat of his own heart drowning out everything else.

When he finally crashes into the ward’s front desk, it’s not graceful. His body slams into the counter, breath heaving, his muscles taut with adrenaline. He grips the edge of the desk as though it's the only thing keeping him upright. "Excuse me, what room is Y/N Park in?" The words come out strained, his voice thick with tension. Every fibre of his being feels stretched to the breaking point, as though his body is barely containing the swell of emotions surging through him.

The receptionist looks up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There’s a knowing look in her eyes, one that says she’s seen this before - fathers on the verge of breaking, desperate to be there, to not miss the moment that changes everything. "Down the hall, third door on your left," she says kindly, nodding toward the direction he needs to go.

He doesn’t wait. With a sharp intake of breath, he pushes himself off the counter and bolts toward your room, his legs moving on autopilot, every step pounding with urgency. His mind races, imagining you lying there, scared or in pain, and it tears at him. You shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself. He swore to be there, to hold your hand through every step of this, and now he’s running on borrowed time.

The corridor leading to your room feels impossibly long, each door blurring past him as he counts them off in his head. First door, second door...third door. His hand trembles as it reaches for the handle, the weight of the moment crashing over him like a wave. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the truth is, nothing can prepare him for this. The surge of love, fear, and anticipation battling inside him is overwhelming, but all of it pales in comparison to the thought of you.

When he opens the door, his heart nearly stops. There you are, lying in the hospital bed, your face flushed with exertion but glowing with a strength he has always admired. You look up, and the moment your eyes meet his, it’s as if time itself stops. Relief floods your features, and he rushes to your side, gripping your hand as though it’s the only tether keeping him grounded.

"I’m here," he breathes, his voice cracking with emotion, kissing all over your hand. "I’m here, baby."

And as you squeeze his hand, the world narrows to just the two of you. The chaos of the hospital fades into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing, the soft murmurs of encouragement from the midwife, and the quiet reassurance that, despite everything, he made it. He’s here.

“Okay, Y/N, I need you to push again for me. You’re doing so great, hun.” The midwife's voice is soft, almost a lullaby amidst the storm of chaos within you. It’s as if her words offer you a momentary anchor, a delicate thread of calm amidst the crashing waves of pressure building up inside your body. You nod, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling with exhaustion, but her voice mixed with the familiar warmth of Jongseong’s hand in yours somehow gives you strength. His fingers, strong and steady, wrap around yours, grounding you in this moment of overwhelming intensity.

He whispers soothing words, his thumb brushing over your clammy skin, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow. But you barely register them. The noise of the hospital fades into the background as your body screams for release. It’s all-consuming, this pain—a deep, primal ache that makes you wonder how anyone could endure this more than once. You’re making a vow to yourself in this very moment: this is definitely the last time you’ll be giving birth.

The midwife’s calm encouragement pulls you back into the moment. “That’s it, you’re doing brilliantly, sweetie! He’s crowning!”

Her words send a jolt of both fear and anticipation down your spine. He’s almost here. You’re almost at the end. But it hurts - God, it fucking hurts. You can feel your body stretching, tearing, and it feels impossible, like your entire being is being pulled apart at the seams. You wonder how anyone survives this. You wonder how people choose to do this again and again. But the end is so close now, you can feel it, and it’s that thought, that hope, that pushes you to dig deep into a reserve of strength you didn’t even know you had.

Jongseong leans in, his face inches from yours as he wipes the sweat off your forehead. His touch is gentle, careful, as though you might shatter under the intensity of what’s happening. “My beautiful girl, you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His words are meant to comfort you, but in your overstimulated state, they fall flat, like a pebble tossed into a stormy sea.

"You did this to me!" you cry out, your voice a strangled mixture of rage, exhaustion, and raw pain. The agony, the pressure, the sensation of your body trying to expel a living, breathing being from your core - it’s all too much. The frustration bubbles up and spills out as you glare at him through half-lidded eyes, loathing him, if only for a second, for putting you in this impossible situation.

Jongseong doesn’t take offence. Instead, he chuckles under his breath, a sound almost swallowed by the sheer intensity of the moment. He presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, seemingly immune to the iron grip you’ve got on his hand, your fingers squeezing so tightly it’s a wonder his bones aren’t crushed. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the tension. “I’m a bad man for giving you the best fucks of your life and putting you in this situation, aren’t I?”

Despite the searing pain wracking your body, you manage a weak, breathless laugh. His words, paired with the earnest yet amused look on his face, somehow cut through the fog of agony. For a brief, fleeting moment, the tension in the room eases, and even the nursing team joins in with a soft chuckle, their eyes sparkling with fondness.

“You’re the worst,” you retort, your voice strained, yet the humour dances between you like a fleeting lifeline. You don’t mean it, and once your beautiful baby is in your arms, you’ll forget every resentment towards your husband, the pain long gone and only love clouding your senses.

But the pain comes roaring back in full force, and the midwife’s voice cuts through the moment. “Alright, Y/N, I need you to push again. Just one more big push, okay?”

You nod, though you don’t trust your voice to respond. Your entire body tenses as you prepare for the final stretch, the last hurdle. The pressure builds, an unbearable weight pushing down on you, and with one last groan - deep, guttural, like a battle cry those old vikings used to do - you bear down, gripping Jongseong’s hand with all the strength you have left.

“You’re doing it, Y/N! That’s it, keep going!” The midwife’s voice is urgent but encouraging, guiding you through the overwhelming sensations. The room seems to blur at the edges, your vision tunnelling as you focus on nothing but the task at hand. You feel the burn, the rawness of your body stretching beyond its limits, but you push through it, every fibre of your being screaming for this to be over.

And then, with one final, agonised push, it is.

A high, piercing cry fills the room, cutting through the tension like a blade, and suddenly the world stills. The pain, the fear, the exhaustion - all of it fades away as you hear the first wail of your son, your precious baby boy. You collapse back against the pillows, your chest heaving, tears slipping down your cheeks as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

Jongseong is crying too. His hand is shaking as he wipes his eyes, his gaze locked on the tiny, wriggling figure in the midwife’s arms. “He’s here,” he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. “Our boy… he’s here.”

The midwife checks your son over for a moment, and once she deems everything is perfectly healthy and fine, she offers you a small smile. “Would you like skin-to-skin?”

Without hesitation, you nod, exhaustion clouding over you. “Yes, please.”

The midwife places your newborn son on your chest, his tiny body warm and wet against your skin. You feel a rush of emotions - love, relief, awe - all of it crashing over you in waves so powerful they steal the breath from your lungs. Jongseong’s hand is reaches up to your face, his fingers trembling as he brushes a tear from your cheek.

“You did it,” he breathes, his eyes shining with pride and wonder. “You really did it, my love.”

You look down at your baby, his small hand curling against your chest, and despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs, you can’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “We did it,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your son’s soft cries.

And in that moment, as the three of you are cocooned in the quiet warmth of the hospital room, the world outside ceases to exist. There is only this. Only the love, the relief, and the overwhelming sense of joy that, despite everything, you’re finally a family.

Bringing life into the world is a moment of pure wonder, filled with a sense of awe and joy that nothing else compares to. The arrival of a new soul, fresh and full of potential, feels like the universe itself holding its breath in reverence. It’s beautiful chaos, tears of relief, the quiet weight of a newborn in your arms, the sweet fatigue that follows the storm of labour. There's a rawness, a vulnerability to it that makes it sacred. The start of life is an unspoken promise, a beginning with endless possibilities stretching out before it.

But as beautiful as the act of bringing life into the world is, it's devastatingly cruel when life is taken away. 

_____

Jongseong ascended the stairs slowly, each step sending a dull ache through his brittle bones. His knees groaned under his weight, no longer the strong, agile legs that had once carried him with ease through the vigours of life. The years had settled deep into his joints, a reminder of a long life lived. At seventy-five, his body had become an archive of memories, each wrinkle and creak a testament to the passage of time. But he didn’t mind, not really. He knew aging was inevitable, and while he wasn’t the fit man he used to be, he had grown accustomed to the slower pace, to the small sacrifices his body demanded. Today, though, his knees seemed to be protesting more than usual.

The morning was still quiet, the kind of peaceful stillness that only early dawn could bring. Jongseong had woken up earlier than you, something he had done a bit more often lately. Your still frame lay blissfully as he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake you. He wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, nothing extravagant, just something simple and sweet. Toast, a little bowl of fruit, and your favourite yoghurt arranged neatly on a tray. And, of course, a tiny daisy from the garden, a little burst of yellow and white placed beside the cutlery - a small token of the love he still carried for you, as bright and fresh as the day he’d first met you.

He smiled to himself as he finally reached the top of the stairs, breathing out heavily. His chest rose and fell slowly as he gathered the air back into his lungs, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. “Y’know, baby, maybe we should invest in that stairmaster,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the thought. “My knees are giving up on me here.”

He pushed open the door to your shared bedroom, the familiar scent of lavender and old wood welcoming him in. The room was a sanctuary, a place where the two of you had spent decades creating a life together. The walls seemed to hum with memories - of laughter, whispered arguments, nights spent comforting a scared baby Jeyou when he was small, his little body tucked between the two of you as you soothed his fears. Even now, the room felt like a cocoon of warmth, filled with the quiet reassurance of a life well-lived together.

Jongseong’s eyes softened as they landed on you. There you were, lying so peacefully, your grey hair splayed across the pillow, half of your face buried into its softness. Your lashes rested delicately on your wrinkled cheeks, and even now, after all these years, you looked so beautiful to him. He’d always loved watching you sleep, loved the way your face relaxed into a soft serenity. He stood there for a moment, tray still in hand, just looking at you, his heart swelling with the same love that had carried him through all the challenges, all the joys and sorrows of life. Every wrinkle on your face told a story he cherished, every line a map of the life you had built together.

But as he stood there, something shifted. The quietness in the room felt...different. The silence was deeper, more still than usual. He tilted his head, waiting for the familiar soft snort you made when you exhaled in your sleep, or for the small rise and fall of your chest that always reassured him. 

But none of that came.

His heart, which had been so full just moments ago, plummeted in his chest. A chill washed over him, the warmth of the room suddenly replaced with a growing panic.

“Love?” His voice was uncertain, his body moving on instinct as he placed the tray down on the dresser by the door. His legs, tired just a second ago, suddenly felt weightless as he rushed to your side. “Y/N?” He sat on the bed, his voice trembling now. “Baby, come on, wake up.”

He reached out, brushing the hair from your face, the strands falling softly between his trembling fingers. His hand lingered on your cheek, feeling for the warmth he had always known, but your skin felt cool beneath his touch. Too cool.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. His other hand found your shoulder, shaking you gently at first, and then with more urgency. “No, no, no. Come on, baby, stop joking around. Wake up. Please.”

The stillness of your body was a stark contrast to the frantic tremor in his hands. He shook you again, harder this time, but you remained as you were - so peaceful, so unbearably still. His chest tightened, the tears pooling in his eyes blurring his vision. He blinked rapidly, as though he could chase away the truth that was slowly sinking in, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of his heart.

“Please, baby, please. Don’t do this. I need you to wake up.” His voice was barely a whisper now, broken and fragile, like a child pleading for a nightmare to end. He pulled you closer, his trembling fingers gripping your arms as he collapsed over you, his body draped across yours as the sobs tore through him. The tears fell freely now, landing on your skin, tiny droplets of his heartbreak mingling with the softness of your stillness.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice strangled by grief. “Please. Don’t leave me. Not now. I’m not ready.”

The room, once so full of love and warmth, felt unbearably cold now. The silence stretched on, suffocating him, pressing down on his chest until he could barely breathe. He held you tightly, his arms wrapped around your lifeless body, as if by sheer will alone he could pull you back, make you breathe again, make your heart beat again. But you didn’t move. You didn’t stir.

Jongseong’s tears soaked into your skin, his sobs shaking his frail frame. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, every beat more painful than the last. He pressed his cheek against your forehead, inhaling the faint scent of your skin, the scent that had been a constant comfort to him for all these years. But now, even that was fading, slipping away like you had.

“I can’t do this without you,” he cried, his voice breaking as he held you tighter. “We’ve always done everything together. How am I supposed to keep going if you’re not here? Please, baby, please...just come back to me.”

But there was no response, no stirring beneath his touch. Only silence. The kind of silence that comes with finality, with the weight of something precious being stolen away forever.

He stayed there, curled up beside you, his tears flowing unchecked, his heart heavy with the unbearable realisation that the love of his life, the woman who had been his everything for decades, was gone. The weight of it settled into his bones, deeper than any ache he’d felt before. This wasn’t just the weight of age, but of loss - a weight that would never truly lift.

For a long time, Jongseong didn’t move. He stayed wrapped around you, whispering soft apologies, broken words of love, promises that no longer had a future. His tears mingled with the daisy he’d picked for you, now wilting beside the untouched tray on the dresser, a small, fragile symbol of the life that had once bloomed between the two of you.

Jongseong's sobs gradually gave way to a trembling stillness as he lay beside you, his breaths coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. The tears had begun to slow, leaving trails of salt on his cheeks, mingling with the remnants of the breakfast tray that had once held such promise. The quiet of the room felt like a heavy blanket, oppressive and final. It was the kind of silence that seemed to stretch endlessly, a cruel reminder of what was now lost.

He pulled himself up slightly, lifting his head from where it had been buried in your shoulder. His eyes, red and swollen, scanned the room - the room that had been a sanctuary of shared dreams and countless memories. He looked at the framed photographs on the bedside table: the smiling faces of a younger you and him, the family portraits, snapshots of Jeyou through the years. It was all a tapestry of a life lived together, and now, it felt like a cruel joke.

“C’mon, love,” he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. He took your hand in his, holding it gently, trying to draw strength from the familiar warmth that was no longer there. “We still have so much more to do.” His voice cracked, but he pressed on, his mind desperately clinging to the plans they had made, the future they had envisioned.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand with a tenderness born of countless shared moments. “Remember, we were going to finish the garden? We talked about planting those roses in the front yard. You always said you wanted to see them bloom better than the witches next door. And the trip to the lake -  Jeyou’s been asking about that fishing trip for ages. You promised him, remember? We were going to take him and Minhee out there and teach them how to catch those big trout.”

Jongseong’s tears began to flow again, mixing with the desperate, pleading edge in his voice. “What about Jeyou?” he continued, his voice breaking. “You can’t leave him behind. We’ve always been a family. He needs you, just like I do. He’s grown up so much, and he still needs his mum. We were going to watch him grown old and brittle like us, how can you do that if you don’t wake up, huh?”

He bent his head, his forehead resting against the cool, unmoving surface of your hand. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered, the words barely audible through the sobs that wracked his body. “If you can’t come back for me, come back for him. Please, please, please. Don’t leave him with just memories of you. He needs you. I need you.”

His pleas hung in the air, a desperate cry to the silence that had become so final. He squeezed your hand, the small, gentle action a futile attempt to make you respond, to bring you back. The room felt impossibly cold now, the warmth of shared dreams replaced by the chilling finality of loss.

He stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding your hand, whispering promises and plans that would never come to pass. The light from the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but it seemed to mock him now. The day they had planned, the future they had envisioned together, was slipping away, drowned in the ocean of his grief.

Jongseong’s heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, each shard a fragment of a life that would never be. He tried to imagine moving forward, but every vision was tainted by your absence. The world outside, with its ongoing rhythm and pulse, felt distant and irrelevant compared to the hollow ache that had settled within him.

_

Jongseong stood by your grave, the ache in his chest so profound it felt like it had hollowed him out completely. He had known, of course, that your funeral would be difficult but nothing, not even the endless condolences and the gentle words from well-meaning friends and family, could have prepared him for this kind of pain. The grief gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. It was the kind of hurt that no words could soothe, no embrace could soften. Nothing - except you.

His black suit hung loose on his frame, a stark contrast to the confident man he had once been. His posture, usually straight and proud, was slouched, his shoulders weighed down by the unbearable burden of loss. His face, pale and drawn, was a shadow of the man who once carried the light of the world in his heart. That light, he feared, had been taken with you. Since the moment you passed, the world had dimmed, and he wondered if he would ever feel warmth again. When the earth loses the sun, there is only darkness that remains.

He hasn’t slept. How could he? The bed is too big, too cold, too empty without you. Every night since your passing, he had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, his hand reaching across the bed to where you used to be, only to be met with nothing. He would run his fingers over the cool, empty space, the ache in his heart growing stronger with each passing minute. The silence was unbearable, the kind that swallowed him whole. He wondered how he was supposed to go on without you when every reason for his existence was tied to you. You had been his purpose, his love, his everything.

Since he was twenty-two years old, he had known nothing but being your other half. You had been there with him through every step, every joy, every heartbreak, every victory. Now, you weren’t here, and it felt as though half of him had been torn away, leaving a void that nothing could ever fill. His hand felt empty, void of your comforting squeezes, the way you used to reassure him with just a touch. He would never feel that again. He would never hear your laugh, never see your smile light up a room, never feel the warmth of your embrace. The thought was unbearable, a suffocating weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe.

Choking back a sob, Jongseong clenched his jaw and squeezed his throat shut, trying desperately to keep himself together, if not for himself, then for the family who stood around him. He knew they were hurting too, how could they not be, when you had been the centre of their lives as well? But it was hard. It was so hard to stand there and be strong when his insides were crumbling, when every fibre of his being screamed for you. He stared at the ground, his vision blurred by tears, the earth below looking so final, so cold.

The sky overhead was grey, a dull blanket of clouds that seemed to mirror the grief that hung in the air. The wind was gentle, but even the breeze felt like it carried sadness, the chill sinking into Jongseong’s bones. It felt as though the world itself had lost its colour, its vibrancy, ever since you had gone. The trees that surrounded the cemetery stood still, their leaves barely rustling, as if even nature was mourning. Every corner of the graveyard seemed muted, the flowers on the graves dull and lifeless, the headstones stark and lonely. Even the birds seemed quieter today, as though they too understood the magnitude of the loss.

Jongseong forced himself to look up, his eyes finding Jeyou across the gravesite. His son stood beside his wife, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed, his gaze locked on the casket that had been lowered into the ground. Jongseong’s heart ached even more at the sight of him. 

He wanted so desperately to be strong for Jeyou, for your son. He wanted to walk over and put a hand on his shoulder, to tell him everything would be alright, to hold him the way he had when Jeyou was a little boy, scared and unsure of the world. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t be anything for anyone right now, because the one person who had always given him the strength to carry on was gone.

Ara came up beside him then, slipping her arm through his. She didn’t say anything, after all, what could she say? There were no words that could take away the pain. Jongseong felt her presence beside him, her quiet support, but even that couldn’t bridge the gap that had opened up in his heart. Ara’s touch was gentle, her hand squeezing his arm, but the void inside him was too vast, too deep for even the love of his granddaughter to reach.

The priest’s voice droned on in the background, speaking the final words of the burial, but the words seemed to drift away, lost in the weight of the moment. Jongseong could barely hear them over the pounding of his heart, over the sound of his own ragged breaths. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free again. He didn’t want to fall apart, not here, not in front of everyone. But how could he not, when the love of his life was leaving him forever?

Jongseong bit his lip, his eyes glassy as he glanced down to your coffin-covered body, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. But there was none to give. This was it. This was the end. You were gone, and there was no miraculous happy ending where you would come back to him, where you would smile and tell him you were never going to leave. There was only the harsh, brutal reality that he would have to live the rest of his life without you.

Jongseong’s knees buckle slightly as the final prayer is spoken, and he feels Ara tighten her grip on his arm, grounding him, keeping him upright. He wants to collapse, to lie beside you and never get up. He wants to close his eyes and pretend that this was all just a terrible dream. But it isn’t. The casket in the ground is real, the earth that will cover it is real, and you are truly gone.

Jongseong let out a shaky breath, the air catching in his throat as he continued to stare at the grave. The casket, now partially covered by the earth, felt like a cruel finality, the last barrier between him and the love of his life. The flowers scattered around the site seemed dull in the overcast light, their once vibrant colours muted by the grief that hung over the cemetery like a thick fog. Everything seemed too quiet, too still, as if the world itself had paused in reverence to the enormity of his pain.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing with the agony of knowing that this was the end—no more shared mornings, no more gentle touches, no more stolen glances. The weight of it all made his chest tighten, a crushing force that left him gasping for breath. He could hardly believe that this was real, that the woman who had been his reason for living for so many years was now gone, leaving him to navigate a life he no longer knew how to live.

Ara tugged gently at his arm, her silent plea to move, to take a step forward. Jongseong hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground, unwilling to leave the spot where you lay. His eyes remained fixed on the grave, as if by staring hard enough, he could will you back into existence, could bring you back to him. But he knew it was futile. You were gone, and no amount of wishing or hoping could change that.

With a deep, ragged breath, Jongseong finally allowed Ara to lead him away. His feet dragged against the soft ground, every step feeling like a betrayal, a distancing from the life you had shared. Ara’s head stayed resting on his shoulder, her silent support both a comfort and a reminder of the family you had built together. He felt the weight of her love, the warmth of her presence, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same without you.

As they moved slowly away from the grave, Jongseong couldn’t resist one last glance back. His eyes, swollen and red from the tears that had yet to stop, locked onto the casket once more, now almost completely covered by the earth. It looked so final, so unbearably permanent. The soft hum of the wind through the trees seemed to carry with it a whisper of the life they had once known, a life that was now out of reach.

The grey sky overhead mirrored the dull ache in his heart, its heavy clouds hanging low as if they, too, mourned the loss of something irreplaceable. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh flowers, but even that felt too bittersweet, a cruel reminder of the beauty that could still exist in a world where you no longer did.

As Jongseong allowed himself to be guided away, his shoulders hunched under the weight of grief, he knew that a part of him would forever remain at that graveside, buried alongside you. The rest of the world moved on around him, but for Jongseong, time had stopped the moment you left. Each step he took felt like a journey into an unknown future, a future without you by his side.

And as they walked further and further away, the image of your grave growing smaller in the distance, Jongseong couldn’t help but whisper under his breath, a final, desperate plea to the universe. “Wait for me, love…just wait for me.”

His words faded into the wind as Ara squeezed his arm gently, and together, they walked away from the place where his heart now lay, buried with you.

____

"I miss her," he says, his voice trembling slightly, breaking the stillness. It’s not just a simple statement—it’s a confession, raw and unfiltered, the kind that makes his chest ache as though his heart is being twisted by an invisible hand. He can feel the familiar sting of unshed tears burning behind his eyes, but he fights them back.

The living room is quiet again, but the kind of quiet that suffocates rather than soothes. Jongseong sits on the edge of the worn couch, his eyes fixed on the photographs that line the mantle. They are still - frozen moments of a life that once brimmed with joy and love. His mind drifts back to the present after the painful journey through memory, and he sighs, his heart heavy with the weight of a year without you.

The pain, sharp as it is, feels like a key turning inside him, unlocking emotions he thought he had long buried. A year. A whole year without you. Not a single day has passed where he doesn’t think of you. The mornings are the worst, when he still, out of habit, sets out two cups for coffee. He never drinks the second one - it just sits there, untouched, a quiet tribute to your absence. The daytime programmes you loved continue to play on the television, though they bring him no comfort, just the dull hum of voices filling a void. Visiting your grave has become his ritual, the only place where he feels some semblance of peace, though even that is shadowed by the overwhelming loneliness.

Jeyou shifts beside him, his own expression mirroring his father’s grief. He reaches out, gripping Jongseong’s hand with a firm, comforting squeeze. "I can't imagine what this day is like for you, Dad," Jeyou says, his voice soft, heavy with understanding. After all, he lost his mum, the one woman who sacrificed everything for him to attend the best schools, follow his dreams, and always made him feel like he belonged in this horrible world. 

He misses your soothing words, particularly on days like today, when he would give anything for your advice.

Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat, shaking his head slightly. "I only pray that you go first before your partner, so you don’t have to deal with this suffering," he replies, his voice hoarse but sincere. He knows how morbid it must sound, talking so freely about his son’s death, but he means every word. Losing the love of your life is an agony he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, let alone Jeyou. It’s not something you ever get over. The pain is deep, cutthroat, and unrelenting, carving out pieces of your soul until you’re hollowed out, just an echo of who you used to be.

They continue talking for the next few hours, the conversation a gentle distraction, though the sorrow lingers in every pause, every shared glance. Minji and Minhee return from outside, running about the room, their laughter a bright but distant sound in Jongseong’s ears. He watches them, a small smile flickering on his lips. Their energy, their innocence, is a reminder that life does go on, even when it feels like yours has stopped.

As the night begins to peer it’s head, it’s time for them to go. Jongseong hates goodbyes now, even the small ones. Ara looks particularly reluctant to leave, her brow furrowed in worry as she watches her grandfather. She’s always been able to read him like a book, even as a child, and now she can see the light fading from his eyes, just as it has been ever since you left.

"I’ll pop around tomorrow, okay? We’ll get you some shopping in," Jeyou says, standing up and shrugging into his jacket, his eyes lingering on his father’s frail form. Jongseong looks thinner these days, the years catching up to him faster than ever before.

"Thanks, son," Jongseong replies, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He knows how much of a burden it must be, looking after him, checking in on him. He should be the one taking care of everyone, the way he used to, but these days, it’s hard just to get out of bed in the mornings. The world feels heavier.

Minji and Minhee run up to their Poppy, throwing their arms around him in a tight hug. He leans down, pulling them close, inhaling the sweet scent of their hair as he squeezes them back with as much strength as he can muster.

"Be good, okay? I’ll see you soon," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Minji giggles and gives him one last squeeze before darting off towards the car, while Minhee sighs in compassion for his great grandfather before following his little sister. He doesn’t know the full extent of everything that goes on, but he knows the old man is hurting. 

Jeyou lingers a moment longer, his eyes searching his father’s face. There’s concern there, etched deep into his features. "Look after yourself, Dad. I mean it," he says, his tone firm but filled with love.

Jongseong nods, offering a faint smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "I will," he says quietly, but they both know it’s more of a promise to make Jeyou feel better than a commitment Jongseong truly believes in.

As the door closes behind them, Jongseong stands by the window, watching as the car pulls away, his heart sinking deeper into the loneliness that has become his constant companion. The house, once filled with life and laughter, feels far too quiet now. He turns, his gaze drifting back to the photographs on the mantle - snapshots of a life well-lived, of love shared, of a happiness he fears he will never feel again.

With a sigh, Jongseong walks to the mantle and gently picks up the frame holding your picture. His thumb brushes over the glass, tracing the contours of your face, his chest tightening with the ache of missing you.

‘Look after yourself,’ Jeyou had said. But how could he, when the one person who made life worth living was gone?

As the silence wraps itself around him once more, Jongseong sets the picture back in its place, his heart heavy with the weight of another day without you.

Climbing up the stairs, he makes his way to your bedroom, the day draining him of everything he has left. Jongseong steps into the bedroom, the air feels heavier, thick with memories and the lingering presence of you. The familiar scent of lavender still clings to the room, though it’s faded over time, much like the vibrant colours of the quilt you both once shared. He pauses by the doorframe, his eyes falling instinctively to your side of the bed. It’s exactly as you left it - untouched, sacred. He’s been afraid to disrupt it, afraid that even the slightest disturbance might somehow break the fragile connection he feels with you, like it might shake you wherever you are in the universe.

But tonight is different. Tonight, the ache of missing you is unbearable.

Slowly, Jongseong crosses the room, each step feeling heavier than the last. His heart hammers in his chest, his breath shallow as he reaches the bed. He hesitates for a moment, his trembling fingers reaching out to touch your pillow, the one that still sees your head laying upon. Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he doesn’t wipe them away. He lets them fall freely, each drop a testament to the love he’s carried for you all these years, a love that still refuses to fade even in your absence.

With a shaky breath, Jongseong lowers himself onto your side of the bed, feeling the mattress dip under his weight. It feels strange at first, like he’s intruding on a space that should remain untouched, but the yearning to feel close to you again overpowers the guilt. He lies down, resting his head on your pillow, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as his tears soak into the fabric.

“I love you, Y/N. More than my heart and chest can hold in,” he whispers into the empty room, the same words he had once said to you all those years ago when he first confessed his love. It feels like an echo, like his heart is trying to reach across the vast distance between him and wherever you are now, hoping that you can hear him, feel him.

He swallows the lump in his throat, his body trembling with grief. "I don’t know how to do this without you, Y/N. Everything... everything is so hard now. Even getting out of bed in the morning. There’s no joy in anything anymore." His voice lowers to a near whisper, almost as though he’s confessing to the universe itself. 

The room feels impossibly quiet, the stillness pressing down on him. His mind races with memories of you, of your laughter, the way your smile could light up even the darkest day, how your hand in his made everything feel right. He presses his face into the pillow, inhaling deeply as if he could somehow capture the last remnants of your presence.

Jongseong closes his eyes, exhaustion creeping up on him, though it’s not the kind that can be cured by sleep. It’s a soul-deep weariness, the kind that comes from carrying too much pain for too long. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry like this in a while, always trying to stay strong for the family, but here, in the silence of your bedroom, he finally lets himself feel the full weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispers, his voice barely audible now. "I don’t know how to live in a world without you. I miss you so much it hurts... I just want to feel you beside me again, even if only for a moment."

He feels the tears slip down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting, but he’s too tired to wipe them away. His body sinks deeper into the bed, the familiar warmth of the blankets enveloping him, though it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same without you.

Jongseong closes his eyes, his hand clutching your pillow as if it were you, as if holding on tight enough could bring you back. The exhaustion weighs heavier on him now, pulling him under, and before he knows it, he’s drifting off to sleep - something that has eluded him since you passed.

Jongseong lies still, his breath slowing as the quiet of the room wraps around him like a blanket. The familiar scent of your pillow soothes the ache in his chest, though not entirely. His hand remains clutching the pillow, his knuckles white against the soft fabric, as if holding on just a little tighter might somehow bring you back.

His frail body begins to relax, the weight of the years and grief easing off his tired shoulders. His eyelids grow heavy, the darkness behind them more inviting than the empty, lonely room. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you; he swears he can feel you surrounding him.

Jongseong’s heart, worn and bruised by your absence, finds a strange calm. The sharp pain of loss that has haunted him for so long softens, as if your presence - though unseen - soothes him, guiding him gently. He can almost hear your voice, soft and familiar, calling his name from somewhere far off, yet so close.

Exhaustion weighs heavier now, pulling him further into that quiet space between sleep and memory. His body sinks deeper into the mattress, the aches in his bones easing as his breathing slows. In the stillness, each breath comes softer, more rhythmic, like the gentle ebb of a distant tide.

As sleep pulls him in fully, a peaceful expression settles across his face. The lines of grief soften, replaced by something close to serenity. His grip on the pillow loosens, his hand falling gently to his side.

And in that stillness, Jongseong rests, his breathing gentle, his heart finally at peace, as though in the silence of the room, he has found his way back to you.

_____

“Dad?” Jeyou’s voice echoes through the house as he steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. A strange, unsettling quiet fills the space, not the kind of silence that welcomes you home but the kind that makes your skin prickle. There’s no familiar sound of his father calling out from another room, no clattering of dishes in the kitchen or the hum of the TV from the living room. It’s still. 

Too still.

He pauses at the base of the stairs, staring up as if expecting his dad to appear at the top, grinning, telling him to come up. But nothing. The quiet presses down on him, growing heavier with each passing second. Everything in the house looks exactly the same as it did yesterday - the framed photos of family lining the hallway, the shoes left in a pile near the door, and the faint scent of yesterday’s lunch lingering. Something feels...off.

Jeyou swallows hard, dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he places his hand on the bannister, fingers trembling slightly. He starts up the stairs slowly, the soft creak of each step the only sound breaking the silence. With every step, his heart pounds harder, his breath growing more unsteady. The house, once full of warmth, now feels cold, unfamiliar.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, the hallway stretches before him, just as it always has. But the air is different. It feels heavier, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Jeyou walks toward the bedroom, his pace quickening as he reaches the door. His hand hovers over the handle, the knot of anxiety twisting tighter in his chest. He pushes the door open slowly.

There, lying on the bed, is his father.

Jongseong is still in the clothes he wore yesterday, his body lying peacefully on the bed, his hand hanging limply off the side, fingers curled and unmoving. His face is calm, serene even, as if he’s just fallen into a deep sleep. But the sight is all wrong. His chest doesn’t rise and fall with the steady rhythm of breath. The colour in his cheeks has faded, his skin now ashen and pale.

Jeyou’s breath catches in his throat, his chest tightening painfully. "Oh... no..." he whispers, the words trembling as they leave his mouth. His jaw clenches, trying to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over him, but it’s no use. His eyes burn, tears pricking painfully at the corners before spilling over, running down his cheeks before he can even bring himself to step closer.

He drops to his knees beside the bed, his hands shaking as they reach for his father’s limp hand, the warmth long gone. His fingers brush Jongseong’s skin, but there’s no response, no twitch, no familiar squeeze. His father is gone, and Jeyou feels the reality of it shattering through him like a blow to the chest.

He leans over the bed, resting his forehead against his father’s hand, the sobs he’s been holding back finally escaping his throat in broken gasps. “No... please... not yet, Dad,” he chokes out, his voice strangled by the tears, the grief clawing at his insides. "Please..."

Jeyou lifts his head, staring at his father’s peaceful face, and for a moment, it feels like he’s just sleeping. But the quiet, the terrible, awful quiet, tells him everything he needs to know. His father, the man who had been his rock, his guide through life, is no longer here.

There is a sweet irony in this moment.

As Jeyou's sobs echo softly through the room, Jongseong’s spirit hovers nearby, watching his son with a tender, bittersweet smile. Although he mourns the pain of his son, there’s no longer any weight on his heart, no sense of loss or longing. Instead, there’s a warmth, a gentle, reassuring presence by his side. He feels it before he even turns. A familiar hand slips into his, fingers intertwining with his in the way they always had, fitting perfectly, like pieces of a long-lost puzzle finally reunited.

He turns, and there you are, standing before him with that radiant smile that never failed to brighten his darkest days. It’s the smile that spoke of every quiet moment you shared, every laugh, every whispered confession of love. His heart, which had carried the unbearable ache of your absence for so long, suddenly feels whole again. The years of sorrow and longing melt away in an instant, replaced by the purest form of joy.

“Took you long enough,” you say with a soft pout, your voice light and teasing, just as it had been in life. There’s no hint of sadness or bitterness in your tone, only the playful warmth he’s missed so much, the kind that had always made his heart flutter.

Jongseong smiles in return, a gentle, peaceful expression settling over his face. For the first time in a year, he feels truly at ease. “I was caught up, sorry, baby,” he replies softly, his voice filled with love as he gazes at you. His hand squeezes yours gently, his fingers brushing over your skin as if to reassure himself that this moment is real, that you’re really here.

And then, without hesitation, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss so tender, so full of longing and relief, that it feels as though the time apart vanishes in an instant. The kiss is soft yet meaningful, filled with all the words he could never find to express how much he had missed you. It's like coming home - like slipping into the warmth of an embrace that was always meant to be. 

The sensation of your lips against his is more perfect than anything he remembers, as if all the love he ever felt for you has been distilled into this one beautiful moment. The warmth of it spreads through him, igniting his soul with a peace he hasn't felt in a long time.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His soul feeling light yet beautifully full, free from the ache that had weighed him down for so long. He finally feels whole, finally feels like he’s where he belongs - beside you, where he’s always meant to be.

For a moment, he glances over his shoulder, back at Jeyou. His son kneels by the bedside, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the pain of his loss fresh and raw. Jongseong watches him with a soft expression, understanding the weight of the grief that will soon settle into Jeyou’s heart. But even in his son’s sorrow, Jongseong knows he will be okay. Time will heal the wounds, and Jeyou has the strength to carry on. He has a family, a loving wife, beautiful children, and the memories of both his parents to guide him.

Jongseong’s lips curve into a sad yet hopeful smile as he watches Jeyou. ‘You’ll be alright, Jeyou' he thinks, though no words leave his lips. He knows Jeyou will heal, just as he himself did once, after his own parents passed. There will be sadness, yes, but there will also be love, laughter, and life to carry him forward.

With that comforting knowledge resting in his heart, Jongseong turns back to you, his grip on your hand tightening just a little, as if to reaffirm the bond you’ve shared for decades. The past, the pain, the loneliness - it all falls away, leaving nothing but peace and love.

“Ready?” you ask softly, your eyes sparkling with a familiar warmth, as if you’d never been apart.

Jongseong nods, a contented smile playing at his lips. “Always,” he replies, his voice steady, filled with a quiet, unwavering certainty. With your hand in his, he takes the first step forward, leaving behind the world of sorrow and stepping into forever with you.

And as the two of you walk together, the light grows brighter, the burdens of the mortal world disappearing entirely, now walking hand in hand, just as you were always meant to.

_____

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